by J. S. Cooper
“Seeking the Kingdom of God?” he asked, amusement in his tone. The seeds of doubt being planted not by me, but by some external source. Who was I to be a non-believer?
“Seek ye first the kingdom of God,” I repeated dutifully, wondering if I was being tested. I don’t remember his next words. I wish I did. I remember thinking that they were inspired. At least inspired enough to get me to follow him away from the church and down to the bookstore a mile down the road. Edward Sullivan was always a man of few words. Few words, but powerful ones. I wish I knew how to explain it. I wish I could tell you of how he spoke, how he felt, how he looked. I wish I could tell you in finite detail the thoughts that went through his head. I wish so many things. But then I guess we all do. When you get on in life, there are so many things you look back on and ponder. What if I’d done this? What if I’d done that? What if I hadn’t waited? What if I’d paid more attention? What if I’d lived a different kind of life?
Poppy Sullivan. That was Edward’s wife. I see her sometimes. She wasn’t from here. She had a slight accent, made it hard to understand what she was saying sometimes. She had the blackest hair I’d ever seen in my life. As black as the night sky, blacker even. It was beautiful. Silky. Asides from the days when it wasn’t. She hated those days. Those days she locked herself in the bathroom trying to perfect it. Or she’d go to the hairdresser. I think she thought that having perfect hair would make Edward love her more than he did. She didn’t realize that he loved her as much as he was capable of. His lack of enthusiasm and interest had nothing to do with his love for her. Poppy gave him three kids. Maybe four. Maybe even five. I know they lost one. When she was six months. It hit them both hard. Pain. Real pain. That’s what you feel when you lose a child. Cutting, deep, cold pain. The despair and distraught can take over your life. I still remember the baby. I think her name was Alice. Yes, Alice was her name. She was a wonder. A capricious delight. She had her mother’s raven hair and her father’s bright blue eyes. And she giggled like she was an angel. Which I suppose she is now. Perhaps. If I still believe in things like angels, and heaven, and God. Edward Sullivan didn’t like believers. He tried to indoctrinate me. Tried to make me lose all of my good teachings. Tried to make me a heathen and take away all the things my momma had taught me. ’Cause momma loved all the teachings, believed every single one of them. Momma tithed ten percent every week, even during weeks when we barely had enough to eat. Momma made me pray day and night. I prayed for everybody in our damn town almost every week. Though, damn’s not a good word. Kind of obfuscates the whole thought, right? Damn and prayer should never be in the sentence. Blasphemy. What fear it is to incur the wrath of God into a little boy? Hell and damnation and eternal fires singing the skin. Hard to not be a believer when the alternative was so scary.
***
1980 was a glorious year. That was the year that I realized that nothing in life was as important as just being able to live. That was the year my best friend Yakov died. Yes, it’s weird to call a year glorious when your best friend dies. It was also weird that a Hasidic Jew and a devout Christian, such as myself, would have been bosom buddies. Only it wasn’t really. We just never spoke of Christ. Or the fact that Yakov was the believer and I wasn’t. Irony laughs in the face of those who test him. Yakov knew Edward about as well as I did. He knew that Edward read five books a week. What a feat it is to read five books a week. I don’t know how he did it. Edward loved to talk about books and the greats. I sometimes wonder why he never wrote his own book. Such was his love of the written word. I thought and Yakov thought that he could have been a great writer, if he only put himself to the task. However, he worried too much about everything being perfect. He said he preferred to devour what others had written. I knew that that wasn’t true, but sometimes you can’t make a man step out of his comfort zone. No matter how hard you try. No matter if it’s his dream. 1980 was a great year. I see Yakov sometimes in the apartment building. He has dinner with Edward every Friday night. Like they did in the old days. They drink bourbon and talk about history. I try and stay away when they start talking about Zionism and Israel. I know on those nights, they’ll be arguing all night. Blame the English, Edward says always. And I always agree, no matter what state I’m in.
***
Jazz brought Edward and I together. Soulful jazz. Etta James, XYZ, XYZ, XYZ. Like music to my ears. I could close my eyes and just imagine sitting in an audience somewhere, listening to the saxophone player taking his breaths, swaying to the beat. It made my heart race. Jazz music makes me remember. Nights when blurry images didn’t matter. Poppy smiling. My mother kissing me on the cheek. Memorizing psalms and poems. Laughing loudly when my son told jokes he’d made up. Lying in bed trying to remember where I was at three in the morning. Closing my eyes and picturing Alice’s eyes. Thinking of her growing up. Crying. Loving. Being closed off. Hating how hard it was for me to share what was in my head. Preposterous really.
***
Edward Sullivan is my neighbor. My best friend. He lives in apartment 19. I mean room 19. I live in room 35. He’s graying, though sometimes his hair is jet black. Some days he reads the dictionary for fun. Some days, he plays with his kids. Though, those days are rare. Some days he tells me stories that make me laugh. Other days he makes me cry. Those are the days when he can’t remember who I am. When his eyes stare at mine in the mirror and I see someone I don’t really recognize. I remember that the lord is my shepherd, but somehow I’m always left wanting. Momma wouldn’t like hearing me say that. Pops either, though he never heard anything because he was never there. Pops, papa, father, dad. Sometimes I see him coming to me. I have vague memories that pop into my mind at random times. I saw my son once and he told me, with a sad look in his eyes, you thought I was Granddad. Do I look like Granddad? I just blinked at him. I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. I had no idea who he was.
***
They told me I should be a writer. All my life. They told me, you could be one of the greats. I knew they were just being nice. I knew that I didn’t have what it took. But now, now that I barely remember my own name. Now that the memories come and go so frequently. Now that I see her face in every woman. Now when I see my fifty-year-old son as a teen. Now that I dance in the rain and jump over fences and can’t sign checks anymore. Now that I get angry at the drop of a hat and punch the wall in frustration. Now that my hand shakes when I play dominoes and I read the same newspaper over and over again. Mark Ballast hit a home run. Mark Ballast hit a home run. Mark Ballast hit a home run. He did? He did? He did? Who are you? Are you my son? My friend? My mother? My doctor? Get away from me? I don’t know you. I miss my wife. My miss my life. I miss my freedom. They told me I should be a writer. All my life. They told me, you could be one of the greats. I knew they were just being nice. I knew that I didn’t have what it took. But now, now that I barely remember my own name.
Now.
They say his name is Edward Sullivan. They say my name is too. I’d like to meet him someday. Maybe I will.
“You named a character, Janie,” I said, tears in my eyes as I looked at him. “Was it after me?”
“No.” He shook his head. “It was you.” He grabbed my hands. “I know that was a long read and I know that you wanted to talk, but I needed you to read that first. I wanted you to see. I wrote that after we met in college and you’d stopped talking to me. I wrote that I loved you, Janie. Don’t you see? You’ve always been my first love. My only love. I’ve tried to forget. So many times. I didn’t want to lose you again. But I can’t keep living this lie. I love you more than life itself. I love you as more than a friend. I want to be with you, Janie. I want us to be lovers and friends and I want us to get married and have babies and I want to write stories about our adventures and journeys through life together. I’m not scared anymore. My granddad wouldn’t want me to be scared. I was scared to write and share it with people and he encouraged me. And then you encouraged me and I realized that this was what it wa
s all about. It’s about taking chances. It’s about living. Not just playing it safe.”
“Oh, Nate.” My heart melted at his words. “Is this real life? Are you really here?”
“You’re so brave, my darling, Janie. You’ve taken so much crap from me and yet, you’ve always been here for me. You’ve loved me and forgiven me and opened up to me and I’ve been an idiot. Will you forgive me, my darling? Do you still love me?”
“Of course I still love you, Nate. Of course I still love you. I’ve always loved you. There’s never been anyone for me, but you.”
“Will you marry me, Janie?”
“Isn’t that moving a bit fast?”
“I think we’re moving pretty slow.” He grinned at me. “And is that a yes? I haven’t heard an answer yet.”
“Of course that’s a yes,” I said happily and then yelped as he pulled me into his arms and started kissing me. I could feel warm tears on my face and I looked up at him in shock. “Are you crying?”
“Yes, I’m crying.” He gave me a huge kiss. “You have just made me the happiest man in the world. You don’t even know how happy I am right now.”
“If it’s anything like how happy I am right now. I would say that you’re super duper happy.” I grinned at him.
“Can you forgive me, Janie? I know I’ve been horrible. A jealous brute. A fool. I’ve broken your heart and I’ve hurt you dearly and it pains me so much.” He looked strained. “I don’t know how I could have done that to you. I just don’t know.”
“I forgive you, Nate.” I wiped the tears off of his cheek. “I love you, Nate. I would forgive you anything. You know that.”
“How did I get so lucky as to deserve someone like you?” he asked me softly as he kissed both of my hands. “I don’t deserve someone like you.”
“No, you don’t.” I laughed and then winked at him. “But I’m glad you recognize that I’m worth more than a hookup.”
“Ugh.” He made a face. “I don’t even want to think about that. Though, if I remember correctly, you’re the one that said that you wanted to hook up. And with Dylan I might add.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” I made a face at him. “I can’t believe I even thought about playing those silly games to try and get you.”
“What silly games?” He paused. “The chess stuff?”
“Ha-ha, kind of.” I leaned forward and kissed him again. I didn’t think now was the time to tell him about the jealousy plan. “By the way, do you know what happened with Dylan and Anabel? She won’t tell me and I’m dying to figure it out.”
“I have absolutely no clue.” Nate shook his head and he looked at me thoughtfully. “I never thought I would say this because I never thought it would ever happen, but I really think that Dylan fell for Anabel.”
“You think so?”
“Well, I don’t really know, but I’ve never known him to be upset about a girl ever,” he said and then he kissed me again. “But enough about them, how about we get this towel off of you and then I can show you just how badly I love you.”
“You mean how badly you want my body.” I laughed as I stood up and dropped the towel to the floor. He gawked up at me with lust and desire in his eyes and I grabbed his hand. “Come with me, big boy. Come and show me how badly you want me.”
“Yes, Janie. Anything you want.” He jumped up and I headed toward the bedroom feeling like the luckiest woman in the world. Everything hadn’t gone according to plan when we’d gone to Belize but it had worked out even better than I’d thought possible.
“I love you, Nate.”
“I love you, Janie. More than you’ll ever know,” he said and then he pushed me against the corridor wall and kissed me softly. “I love you with everything in me. Never forget that, okay.”
I nodded up and him and I could see the love staring down at me. “I won’t forget.”
“This is forever,” he said as he kissed me again. “This is forever and ever.”
Thank you for reading The Takedown. I hope you enjoyed it. You can join my Mailing List here! Everyone that joins the mailing list receives a free book.
My next release is a standalone romance called Carry My Heart.
Sage Weston and Jacob Phillips met as children at Little Kitty Orphanage. They had the type of friendship that could weather any storm and they vowed that they would always be there for each other. And then Jacob was adopted, and everything changed. At first the letters were fast and furious but then they stopped and Sage was left all alone.
Four years later, Sage and Jacob bump into each other at a university party. Sparks fly, daggers are drawn and Sage wants nothing to do with Jacob or the bevvy of women that seem to follow him everywhere he goes. Then Sage loses a bet, and she can no longer avoid Jacob. Though she does everything she can to let him know that they are no longer friends.
But Jacob has plans, and is determined for Sage to know the truth about what happened four years ago, even if it costs him everything.
Join my mailing list to receive teasers from Carry My Heart.
