by D. B. James
Case: Lee feels strange to type. I like babe better. It fits you. You’re a babe, not a Lee. Anyway, I wanted to let you know the police caught the guy who broke into the shop. He was trying to sell the lights to a local pawn shop. Needless to say, the owner turned him in. And I have all of my possessions back while he sits in jail. Yay for the good guys!
Case: Sorry I called you babe again.
Case: I’m a dick.
Case: Are you mad?
Case: Shit, you’re mad.
Case: Lee?
Case: …
I’m not sure how to respond to any of it.
Wait, yes, I do. Part of it anyway. It’ll be short because of my surroundings, but hopefully he’ll know I’m brushing off the babe comment. Well, keeping myself from bringing it up and making it an issue. Again.
Me: I’m glad they caught the criminal. I’m at the doctor. Talk shortly?
Evading is what I seem to do best when it comes to Case. Maybe I should talk to Dr. Beesley about him today instead of Michael. It’s him who’s taking up most of my thoughts this week, if I’m completely honest with myself. I’m not sure if it bothers me half as much as it should. I know it’s been two years since he died, but shouldn’t I still want to think about him instead of another man? I mean, should I want to move on? Or wait…I don’t know what I should or shouldn’t think. I don’t know what normal is. What I thought normal was, died. But I later learned he was a lie. At least the last few months with him were a lie. Ugh. Fucking men, why do they always have to send such mixed signals? Michael may have given me permission to date, but it doesn’t mean I understand it. Or hell, am ready for it.
“Tenley?” Dr. Beesley calls from the door leading to her office.
Good, she’s calling me back exactly when I need her the most. Instead of answering her or glancing up, I gather my purse and trudge my way back into her office. I’m pacing before she closes her office door.
“What has you this visibly upset?” Miranda asks.
“Case.” The stupid man. “Wait, no. Michael,” I reply.
“Is Case the man you’ve mentioned meeting a few weeks ago? Around the same time you started getting Michael’s gifts?”
“Yep,” I reply, the word popping from my lips. “The one and only.”
It’s a good thing she has wood floors, or I’d be leaving a nice trail in the carpet from all this pacing back and forth.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
“Okay, and what did he do to cause you such upset?” she ponders.
It’s such a loaded question. He didn’t technically do anything. He’s alive, isn’t it enough? Shit, now I’m sounding mean. I’m sorry, Case. Damn, I’m such a hot mess.
“He likes me.” Deciding her chaise looks as appealing as it always does, I stop my pacing and plop myself down unto it. “And I like him, but I shouldn’t. It’s the whole problem. He lives in Austin, it’s not like it’s exactly easy to see him. And when he was here, I avoided time alone with him because let’s face it, I’m a big ball of mess. He doesn’t deserve to be tangled up in it with me. He deserves someone whose husband didn’t die two years ago. Someone who has their shit together. Someone who isn’t me,” I vent.
“Tenley, it’s been a few years now since Michael passed away. Yes, you’re still healing. Have you asked this Case if he wants to be in your life, or have you only pushed him away? Because you deserve happiness and if he makes you happy, you shouldn’t deprive yourself of it. Healing doesn’t make you a mess. Your progress is further along than I thought it would be at this point. When you started coming to see me, I didn’t see you in this place for weeks yet. You’ve made new friends, taken on a new job, tackled a few of your fears, and you’re sleeping better than ever before. You, my dear, are moving forward.”
Well. Shit.
It’s not like I didn’t know I was healing, because I did. I’ve noticed when I stare in the mirror I’ve taken on a new…healthier glow. What I find shocking is how she thinks I deserve to be happy with Case.
“What if right now all I can offer him is my friendship? What if it’s all I’ll ever be able to offer him? Because it’s my fear. I’m scared I’ll let him all the way in, he’ll invest too much into our relationship, and when I’m all healed, maybe I won’t want him anymore. And I’ll leave him in shattered pieces like I am now. What if? It’s all my mind can think about when he’s near. When I can breathe anyway. He likes to steal the air from my lungs. It’s scary but amazing,” I confess.
“I understand the fear. Write it down. Tackle it. Use it. But whatever you decide, do not let your past dictate your future, Tenley. What I’m saying in essence is this…don’t let the love you’re capable of still giving to someone die with Michael,” she says.
Boom. She hit my fear precisely on the head. I’m afraid of loving again. It’s what the true issue here is. I’m also scared if I do love someone again, I’ll be doing a disservice to Michael by doing so. Don’t get me wrong, I know he’d want me to be happy again, and to find love, but I feel like somehow what I’m doing would be wrong. I know…it’s way beyond fucked up. He’s dead. He’s never coming back and I need to deal with it completely before I let someone like Case in as more than my friend. Yes, I feel something for him. And yes, it’s not only a feeling of friendship. It’s what he’s said, it’s…more. And I’m running as far away from him as possible. It’s a good damn thing he’s in Austin and no longer within my reach.
“Okay. I’ll, uh, write it down. Fear of loving again. Check.” Shaking my head yes repeatedly seems to have taken the place of my pacing; it’s like I need to be moving. I’m not sure if I’m mad anymore, stressed, or plain frustrated. Maybe it’s a combination of all three.
“Tell me more about Case. How did you meet him exactly?” Miranda asks.
“Oh. He came into the bookstore a few weeks ago.” It’s all I say. For fifteen minutes. I’m completely silent and Dr. Beesley lets me be. She doesn’t ask any more questions and I don’t offer up any more information. It’s…comforting. She understands me completely.
“We’ve done enough for today, Tenley. And it may not feel like we made much progress, but we did. You’re moving forward. Please remember what I said about not letting the past dictate your future. You can’t let what happened to Michael hold back the rest of your life. You’re still young and you deserve every happiness in life. Take it. I’ll see you in a few days.”
And with those parting words ringing in my ears, I exit her office.
That wasn’t completely bad. I guess.
And now, I have another fear to add to my life.
Number 597 or some shit.
Fear of falling in love again.
Pulling into Van’s driveway the next morning, I glance down at my provisions. I came prepared with coffee, muffins, and plenty of gossip to fill the drive in to Pensacola. She’s waiting for me on her front porch swing and begins making her way to my car before I have the chance to put in it in park. Julian comes rushing out the front door, grabbing her by the hand and halts her before she can make it all the way to me. He gives her a passionate kiss. I feel like a voyeur and like I need to fan myself. Releasing her, he waves to me and walks back toward the house.
“Morning, Lee. Are you ready to shop your ass off?” Van asks as she’s climbing into my car.
Laughing, I glance over at her to see her eyes filled with mirth. She’s joking, or at least I hope she is. How horrible can one day of shopping with her actually be?
“Uh, I think I am?” I question because I’m truly questioning my sanity at this point. Good thing I bought myself a huge coffee, looks like I’ll need it. “And, talk about a goodbye kiss, I feel like I need to tip y’all for treating me to a peep show,” I tell her in jest.
She tosses her head back in laughter, hitting the head rest with force, but she doesn’t seem to mind. “Julian is affectionate, he’s never had an issue showing me how much he loves me. It was his whole sleeping with
my sister bullshit that led to us divorcing. I’m happy we finally forgave each other and forged ahead.” Turning to take me in, she continues on, “Don’t question it, the shopping thing. We’ll have tons of fun; don’t you worry about a thing. Harrison and Morgan may end up meeting us for lunch. It’s depending on when his charter gets back. I know Morgan would enjoy some more time getting to know you.”
“I’d love to spend more time with her. You’ve said before how much Morgan loathes shopping with you, I’m surprised with myself for agreeing to come. Needing new clothes won out, my closet is sorely lacking. Sadly, I haven’t been shopping for myself in years. Frickin’ years, Van.”
The shirt Michael gifted me with during his last gift drop was the first piece of new clothing I’ve received since his funeral. Which wasn’t truly a funeral since his body was never recovered, but that’s beside the point. I’m in need of new clothes. Horribly. Enough to risk my life by agreeing to shop with Van. I’ve heard the horror stories from Morgan.
“Yay! I’m super excited. You’d think I’d be excited to buy new clothes for myself but I’m not. I’m over-the-moon excited about helping you buy some new clothes, Lee. The first time I took Morgan shopping was for a date with Harrison, and she found this killer emerald dress. The poor girl thought she was done after the dress. Oh, no. She needed new shoes, undergarments, jewelry, you name it. By the time we were done shopping, I swear I was the tired one, but never tell her. I have a reputation to uphold,” she jokes.
Before I can respond to her, she’s turning up the radio and singing along. Maybe she didn’t want me to respond. Oh, well, no matter. I’m not sure what I’d say exactly anyway. I’m flattered she wants to help me pick out some new clothes; my bank account may not be as thankful though.
I’ve missed this.
This feeling of friendship.
I’ve known Van since high school, you’d think this wouldn’t be a new feeling for us. Sadly, it is. Before everything happened with Michael, I had a few close girlfriends—Van included, and we’d meet once a week to have dinner and gossip over wine. In the weeks and months since, they drifted away. Like the sand does each time the ocean waves meet it upon the shore. One has literally moved away. Two others have since married and I’m positive they don’t want a depressant like me in their happy lives. Van is the only one left. And up until a few days ago, she had spent the last several months in Paris getting reacquainted with her husband and moving him back to the states.
Where did this feeling of melancholy come from? When I awoke, I was…happy. When I picked up Van, I was still happy. What’s changed? It can’t be the company, obviously I love her. It has to be the thoughts of the friendships I’ve lost. My life has taken such a turn in the last few years. One would never have seen these changes coming. Some great. Most bad. But again, some great.
“Hey, Van?”
“Hmmm?”
“Thank you.”
“Okay, I’ll bite. Whatever for?” she inquires.
“For being you. For asking me to go shopping with you, and not caring it turned into a shopping trip for me. Most of all for always remaining my friend and standing by my side,” I say with all the love in my heart I hold for her. She’s a true friend.
She says nothing in return for a solid five minutes. I’m counting to sixty for the sixth time when she finally breaks the silence.
“You don’t have to thank me. For any of it. It’s easy to be your friend. Sorry about the silence. You made me cry, Lee…I was taken aback by your words, and my tongue was twisted up. Me. You tied my damn tongue. Basically, what I’m trying to say is, you didn’t have to thank me for my friendship because I love having you as my friend. We both clearly have always needed each other. Can we agree to not bring up sappy shit for the rest of the day, please?” she begs.
“Agreed.”
It’s the only thing I can say because now I’m crying. Good thing we’re only a few minutes away from our destination.
A song by Maroon 5 comes on the radio and it couldn’t be more welcome. We need some cheering up in this car. Turns out Adam Levine singing about animals is exactly what we needed.
Four hours later, we’re sitting down for lunch in a cute little café near the beach. We’ve taken a much-needed break from shopping. One I couldn’t be more grateful for. She wasn’t kidding when she said she can get carried away.
For Morgan it may have all started with a dress, with me it all started with a pair of thigh-high boots. Nude in color, and a huge killer to my bank account by themselves, but they couldn’t be resisted. We hadn’t been in the store for more than ten minutes when I saw them. What came after can only be described as an act of God. Or in this case, an act of Savannah. She was determined to find me a closet full of clothes to go with those boots. Five pairs of skinny jeans, seven blouses, three t-shirts, a couple of tank tops, and countless undergarments later, we find ourselves here.
“I’m calling in dead to the bookstore tomorrow.” I’m only half kidding.
“Don’t talk too loudly. Morgan is walking up; she may overhear you,” Van whisper yells.
“And your point is?” Again, I’m only half joking.
“You’re my best friend. At least pretend to love shopping with me. Leave out the part where you cried in the dressing room. I’ll buy your lunch and love you forever,” Van says.
“You already love me, and you already promised to buy my lunch. If you agree to buy me dinner tonight, too, I’ll keep it between us. Deal?” By the time we get to dinner, I’m afraid I’ll need a gallon of wine. I’m scared to think about going back to shopping after lunch. My credit card may end up crying like I did.
Before she can agree, Morgan and Harrison make their way to our table. They truly do make the most stunningly gorgeous couple.
“Sorry we’re late, Harrison insisted on showering before leaving,” Morgan informs us.
“No worries, dear, we haven’t been here long at all. Lee was only now browsing the drink menu, as you can see, we’ve only ordered water.”
Standing up, I hug Morgan first, then shake Harrison’s hand. Every time I see him, I can’t get past how familiar he looks to me. But he does run a local fishing charter, so I may have seen him around. He’s a local, only a few years younger than myself. I wasn’t kidding when I said they are the most stunning couple. They are.
“Okay, don’t find this weird, I have this thought each time I see you two together. Y’all are gorgeous. Stunning together, apart yes, but more beautiful together. I’d like to feature you on the cover of my next novel. Mind you, I don’t know when it’ll be written but I’d like to have you both on the cover. Because…” I stop and gesture to each of them, up and down, “look at you. It’s like you won the genetic lottery. Holy shit. Can you imagine what your babies will look like? All of her garnet hair and his stormy eyes. Fucking perfection.”
Yup, I blurted it all out. I did warn them, at least they were semi-prepared. Dammit, word vomit has been hitting me at the strangest times lately.
Instead of them greeting me with strange looks or comments, I’m greeted with howls of laughter.
Morgan laughs so long and hard that the waiter has to come back twice to get their drink order.
Harrison speaks for them both while she’s still laughing.
“I can’t say we’re not both flattered. We are. And if I can speak for my fiancée, sure. We’ll agree to posing for your book cover. Morgan is a little delirious at the moment. She’s a fan. I’m surprised she hasn’t revealed herself already. She’s read all of your books before you became friends with her. I think she’s a bit shocked, to say the least.”
It still surprises me I have fans. Actual readers out there. People who find pleasure in my words. My stories. My characters. They enjoy the stories I let take over my brain for weeks and months on end. Sometimes years on end. To know I’ve provided them with an escape from their everyday lives for a few minutes a day is surreal to me. It still blows my mind. And it reminds
me I need to get back to doing what I love the most. Writing. Giving a voice to the stories in my head and getting them out to the readers of the world. It’s time I tackle my fear. I’ve let it rule my life for too long. Fear of not being able to connect to the words. Screw it. I’m no longer succumbing to this particular fear. Starting today.
“Thank you. For agreeing and not finding my request too peculiar.”
“Oh, it’s strange. But fucking awesome.” Morgan has quit laughing and found her voice. The waiter decides to come attempt to take their drink order as soon as the words leave her mouth. “Sorry, I’ll take a Coke,” she mumbles. This spitfire of a girl who one second ago was swearing to me mumbled her order while blushing.
Not able to help myself, I laugh like a loon. It seems the laugher of moments before was contagious. The next hour is spent much the same way.
I love every second of it.
Over the next week life resumes in much the same way as before. It’s not entirely a horrible thing.
I’m focusing on tackling my fears, including writing. I’ve turned in a new story idea to my publicist and asked for the last one to be scrapped. At this point there’s no way I’ll be able to commit to those characters again. They were born when I was a whole person. The new characters and story needed to be born now, when I’m not yet myself, but not completely broken anymore.
Stuck somewhere in the happy medium between.
Will it end happily? I’ve yet to know the answer. The idea I sent my publicist wasn’t a complete one. Why? Because I’m still living it. It’s my story. It’s me, fictionalized. The main character loses everything but works on finding herself along the way. In a way it’ll be like gazing in the mirror. Odds are, I won’t like it ninety percent of the time. But the other ten percent? I’m praying I love it.
