As we make it through the employee entrance, the overwhelmingly familiar medicinal smell of hit my nostrils. I’m instantly nauseous. I try to block every memory of this place from my mind, but all the feelings come flooding back. Neil turns around and notices my distressed state.
“Are you OK?” he asks stopping suddenly.
I can do this. I nod quickly.
“There is no reason to be nervous, Phoenix,” he says as though he can feel my fear. Braeden always said he was good at reading people.
We make it through a series of hallways and I become lost, not knowing what’s up or down. We make it to the nurses’ station and I instantly spot her, my lips turning up in a smile!
“Phoenix!” she shouts as she rounds the counter top, her long arms wrapping around me in seconds.
She squeezes so tightly I fear I have re-broken a rib.
“I am so excited that you’re here.” She smiles as she pulls away.
Her eyes look at me up and down, the fire burning in my cheeks.
“You look smoking hot in the get-up, might I add.”
“Thanks,” I whisper, suddenly hating all the attention on me.
I hear a throat clear behind me.
“I’ll be back around five to take you home,” he says, now in doctor mode
~
The next few hours are a blur, a series of instructions that become a jumbled mess in my brain. I am happy to be trusted with things less life threatening. I followed closely behind the other volunteers, watching how they interact with the patients. Once we finish visiting all the rooms, I am told we get a break. I am more than ready for some air. Leaving the nurses area, I head toward what I think is the exit, but it only takes me a matter of seconds to get turned around in the labyrinth of corridors that all look the same. I’ve always had a horrible sense of direction.
I aimlessly walk around the hallways, figuring I’ll make it back somehow. But something tells me to look right, my eyes finding a semi-dark room, sunshine from partially-closed blinds illuminating it softly. I stop at the corner of the door frame and peer inside, feeling like a total stalker. In front of the window is a petite fragile frame sitting in a chair, the profile of her face bruised. My mind screams for my feet to move forward, but I can’t move. I am frozen. I watch this little girl move around in her seat, a wince coming across her face with every movement. I know that there are a million things that can explain her injuries. Maybe she had an accident. Maybe she tripped and fell.
But I know. She didn’t cause this herself. Her head turns in my direction, my presence is no longer invisible. Realizing I’m invading her moment of privacy, my feet finally move me away from her room. After a few more twists and turns I find myself back at the nurses’ station, ready for the rest of the day.
~
By the time Dr. Harris and I pull into the driveway, the sun has already set for the day. When I notice that he doesn’t pull the car all the way into the garage I look toward him.
“I have something else I have to take care of,” he explains, his eyes not looking straight at me.
Since it’s none of my business I just nod before exiting the car. I stop when I hear him call my name out again.
“I might be home late, so I want you to set the alarm,” he explains. “Do you remember how to do that?”
“Yes.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, my nerves getting the best of me.
“You are perfectly safe here,” he assures me. “He’ll never be free.”
My heart skips a beat, an image of Carl behind bars flashes across my vision. He nods and I shut the door, watching the light from his headlights disappear from my sight. Grabbing the spare key that Braeden showed me on my first day, I slide it into the key hole, pushing the front door open. I quickly get inside and lock the deadbolt. Punching in the code, I see the light switch over to green. I let out a deep breath that I didn’t realize I was holding in. Dropping my bag on the floor, I scan the room, everything quiet and peaceful. My eyes find themselves peering out into the backyard, the shed illuminated by the backyard lights.
A small part of me wonders why they keep it. Why burden themselves with that memory every day? I yawn loudly, realizing how beat I am. Heading up the stairs slowly, I reach the door of my bedroom but the door is closed. Not how I left it. Taped to the front of it is a piece of paper, with Braeden’s handwriting. Reaching up I peel it off, unfolding the paper.
I felt like your walls could use something special.
I look at the paper, confused, and shake my head, knowing he is up to something. Pushing open the door I instantly see what he did. On the floor of my room is a massive stack of art supplies, tears blurring my vision. Typical tears of joy. Drawing was something I always loved to do. My father encouraged the artistic vision I always had when I was younger. We used to have drawing contests on napkins whenever we went out to eat but, like everything else in my life, when he was gone, so was any encouragement of my creativity. Kneeling down I run my fingers across all the paint cans, picking up the brushes, feeling the soft bristles underneath my fingertips. Putting my fingertips to my mouth I effectively hide my smile, shaking my head slowly. On top of the pile is another piece of paper. Reaching over I grab it, opening it slowly.
I can’t wait to hold you in my arms again.
I love you Seraph.
Clutching the piece of paper against my chest I can feel my heart soaring. I thought only men like him existed in fairy tales. I often wonder what I did to deserve him. Getting up from the floor, I walk over to my nightstand, sliding the note into the drawer. Walking over to my closet, I slide off my dress and find my favorite pair of yoga pants and an over-sized t-shirt that I stole from Braeden. Sliding myself on top of the bed I feel my eyes becoming heavy, sleep overtakes me quickly.
~
I snap my eyes open and turn over to glance at the clock. It’s incredibly early in the morning, the sun not due to rise for hours. Pushing the covers off of me, I slide on my robe because the house is frigid. I head into the kitchen, grab the water kettle and fill it with water from the faucet. Clicking on the burner, I watch the blue-and-orange flame crawl up the sides of the kettle, the warmth flowing to my face. While I wait for the whistle, I look around the kitchen some more and start looking for a spoon but instead I find a stack of dusty pictures. I pull them out and my heart instantly aches at the sight of them. They are all various stages in the family’s life. Some of when Braeden and Thomas were babies, all the way up to what seems like less than a year before the accident. In each one of them everyone is smiling or laughing. Everything about them is perfect.
I hear the whistle of the kettle, so I slide the pictures back to where I found them and head back over to the stove, pouring the hot water into the already-dispensed cocoa mix. Stirring it with the spoon, I pick it up, smiling at the turtles staring back at me. When I make is back upstairs, I take a sip of hot chocolate and stop, finding myself staring at the large, blank wall to the left of my bed.
Setting my mug down on the dresser I bend over, gathering multiple brushes and paints in my hands and set them on the ground next me. Looking back up at the wall I smile wide, only one thing coming to mind.
I work until the soft lights of the morning sun creep through the window, both my body and mind exhausted. After a few more soft strokes of the wings I step back, even amazed at myself at what is looking back at me. Setting the brush back down in the paint can I stare at myself in the mirror and smile, seeing that I am speckled in paint from head to toe. Stripping down, I climb back into bed hoping to get a few more hours of sleep before my day begins.
Chapter 50
Braeden
Work and school on the same day fucking sucks. An entire day without Phoenix was torture. I couldn’t concentrate at all and most of my work at the hospital was lacking. Even being here is tough; there are memories of her everywhere. Every corner of the hospital seems to have a little piece of her there. But I hate myself for missi
ng those moments. I need to keep thanking god she isn’t still here. That she’s not the broken girl that he created anymore. I pull out my phone and check it, for the thousandth time in the past hour, wanting to hear her voice, needing to know how her first day alone is.
“You’re going to break that damn thing,” I hear a voice over my shoulder.
“I wish that she would just call me,” I snap back.
“She’s busy, man,” he says. “Don’t you remember how stressful your first day was here?” Donovan asks.
We both laugh a little, my first day on the job was nothing less than disastrous.
“Now just think how she feels,” he says softly.
“She must be fucking mortified,” I say softly, running my hands through my hair.
An idea pops into my mind, making me smile. “I’m gonna take my lunch,” I say as I bolt out the back door and hop on my bike.
~
When I get back to work my nervousness only increases, now my mind wants to know what she’ll think of her gift. When I saw the look on her face in front of the art shop I could see the love in her eyes. I could definitely tell her past was trying to claw its way out. Sometimes I wish she would open up more. I want to hear more about the good in her life. I love watching her tell me about the times with her father. She’s always her most happiest at those moments. The minute hand on the clock on the wall moves at an insanely sluggish pace. My patience for being here is wearing thin. Once it hits 6:59am I dart out the back entrance, hop on my bike again and pedal back to my father’s house. When I reach the front door I put my key in and push it open, a loud buzzing reaching my ears.
Stumbling into the kitchen I reach the key pad, my brain not functioning as well as it should, exhausted from my ride over here. Fumbling with it I hear the beeping becoming more consistent, knowing my thirty seconds is running thin. After my third attempt, it stops. Shutting the door on the pad I bound out of the kitchen and up the stairs, wanting to see my baby girl more than anything else in the fucking world.
When I reach her door I can smell the fumes from the paint, a wide grin coming across my face. Pushing the door open slowly I instantly find her form curled up in itself, her eyes closed. I walk over slowly, my vision in a tunnel, as it always is whenever she is around. I stare down at her angelic state, I reach out and brush the soft flesh of her cheek, making her stir gently but not awaken. Just when I thought I couldn’t love her more, my heart literally soars at the simple sight of her. Lifting my eyes from her I look up at the wall, the painting staring back at me weakens my knees. Moving around the span of the bed, I walk over to it, my eyes going over every line of the painting. It’s absolutely breathtaking.
“I hope you like it,” her soft voice fills the room.
I can’t even look back at her, my eyes glued to this amazing piece of artwork.
“You painted this?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says, her voice nervous.
I finally peel my eyes away from it and they fall upon her again. She slides herself off the bed, the dark circles underneath her eyes again, a sign she was up all night. She walks over and wraps her arms around me and I lean down, placing a kiss on top her head.
“Thank you,” she announces.
“For what?”
“For the art supplies,” she says shyly.
“You don’t have to thank me, Seraph.”
“You’re too good to me,” I hear her mutter.
Pulling her body away from mine, I look into her eyes, small flecks of paint surrounding them.
“You deserve more than I could ever give you, Phoenix, but I will try my hardest to give you the world.”
“Braeden, you give me everything just by being here. I wouldn’t be able to stand if it wasn’t for your faith in me.”
I can tell that she is starting to get choked up, so I just pull her back into me, both our eyes back on the painting.
“So, what made you want to paint an angel?” I ask.
“It’s not just any angel.” She laughs. “It’s a seraphim angel.”
I look down at her confused. She just shakes her head and smiles.
“A seraphim angel has six wings instead of two.”
I look back up at it and count the wings. Six. I notice a single word written in the feathers of each wing.
Nelson, Sophia, Thomas, Neil, Braeden and Phoenix.
I look back down at her, a wide smile on her face.
“What’s with the names?” I ask.
She looks back up at the painting.
“They’re my family.” She smiles. “The wind beneath my wings.”
At that moment I want to drop to the floor, begging her to be mine forever. But I knew that she would be, whether I asked or not.
“Thank you,” I hear her utter. “Thank you for being my savior.”
Chapter 51
Phoenix
You know the saying time flies when you’re having fun? Well, for the first time in my life, I truly understand what they meant. Before I know it, Braeden and I fall into a routine. I stay busy volunteering at the hospital, Braeden continuously busy between school and work. Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months. The days start to grow exponentially longer, the heat of every day rising. Summertime in San Francisco isn’t that hot to begin with, but the sun soaking into my body is a welcomed notion.
Shimmying my glasses on my face, I pick up my drink on the side table next to me, the condensation falling off the bottom and rolling down my chest. Moments later I feel a fingertip between my breasts, wiping up moisture. I let out a giggle.
“That tickles.” I laugh.
I look up at Braeden, who is now straddling my body on the chaise on the deck. I gaze over his exposed upper torso, all of its glory out for me to see. Leaning up, I hook my arm around his neck, pulling him closer to me, his lips pressed against mine. I wonder to myself if the feeling I get for kissing him will ever waiver, each of our kisses as great as the first. My body is then lifted off the cushion and thrown over Braeden’s shoulder. I don’t even have to guess where we are headed.
When I first came here, it was apparent that neither Braeden nor Dr. Harris had set foot out past the balcony since her death. But over the past couple months I convinced him to come out here slowly. His long legs bound down the steps in seconds and both our bodies fly, the cool water reaching my skin. I inhale sharply, hoping not to swallow half the pool as I go under. My feet touch the bottom of it and I push off, shooting myself to the surface.
Wrapping my arms and legs around Braeden, I place my lips on his, our bodies bobbing in the water. When he opens his eyes again I see them shift to the direction of the shed, it making me nervous.
“Babe,” I say softly, hoping to distract him.
“Do we really have to go tonight?” he whines. “I just want to stay in tonight with my arms wrapped around you for the whole night.”
Maybe we shouldn’t go. “But it’s important,” I try to explain. “Plus, we told your father we would go.”
I hear a low grumble escape his throat. “My father will just want to show me off to all of his colleges,” he whines.
I shake my head and laugh. “Yes, how terrible to have a son that you are proud of and want to show everyone how proud he is of you.”
Braeden rolls his eyes. “I haven’t graduated yet,” he explains.
“Doesn’t mean that he’s not proud of you,” I add. “Or that he is the only one that is.”
He slyly smiles. “You’re proud of me, Seraph?” he asks.
I bite my lip while nodding excessively. His grip around me tightens and we remain silent for a second.
“I could never spend another day without you in my life,” he whispers into my ears.
I pull back, putting a hand on each side of his face.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell him, my eyes boring into his. “I’m yours, always and forever.”
We pull ourselves from the pool once our fingers become pruney, our di
p easing the burn of the unusually-hot weather. Wrapping my towel around my body I head inside, instantly spotting Chelsea coming through the front door.
“Hey!” she says as she walks into the family room, two large black garment bags slung over her shoulder.
“Hey,” I respond, slinging myself onto the couch.
Her eyes find Braeden coming through the back door, a towel wrapped around his waist, water from his hair dripping off and rolling down his chest. A grin envelopes on Chelsea’s face and I don’t know whether to laugh or be jealous.
“You two have a nice swim?” She laughs and I instantly know what she’s getting at.
“Har har,” I say before getting up from the couch.
Chelsea takes one of the bags off her shoulders and throws it at Braeden.
“We better get started.” She smiles and heads off into the direction of my room. “Give us…a few hours…”
I widen my eyes at Braeden, silently begging him to stop her but instead he just smiles.
“See you soon,” he says as he leans in, placing a kiss on top my head.
“Lord help me,” I mutter as I walk away from him.
“Phoenix, get your ass up here right now!” I hear Chelsea scream from upstairs.
When I get there, I widen my eyes at the amount of makeup and hair products that are now laid upon my dresser.
“Here,” she says as she hands me a variation of bottles. “Make sure you rinse your hair good, that chlorine is horrible for it.”
I look at her confused, never using anything but shampoo. Before I came here I had to wash my hair with bar soap. Spinning me around she pushes me towards the bathroom.
“And make sure you shave!” she calls out. “Everything!”
Over the past few months Chelsea and I have become quite close despite our age difference. She is sort of like the mother I never had. Once I finish in the shower, I am already tired. Braeden’s idea of staying home sounds pretty damn good about now. As soon as I re-enter my room the next unknown amount of time flies by, a mixture of hairspray and perfume filling the air.
A Brand New Ending Page 25
