I walk to the door of the house. Taking a deep breath, I grab the door knob and turn it to push it open.
“Bronx.” He obeyed, coming next to me, sitting and watching me, waiting for his next command. I patted his head, sighing.
“Go on.”
Reading his expression, he was anxious to explore the new territory. I walked in slowly, looking at all photos. Walking through the house, I thought nothing has changed, not one bit. I had the slightest warming feeling I hadn’t expected to have. It crept up on me. As I walked all throughout the house, I had one room left to get reacquainted with, my bedroom. Going in, of course it was the same. I looked at all the photos of me and Lissa. So young, happy, and vibrant.
Closing the door behind me, I still wasn’t ready to dig into the past. I went to the fridge, thankful seeing there was beer inside. I hadn’t eaten a thing since I left. Not that I was hungry. My nerves were a mess. A beer would calm me down. Popping the metal cap, I sit on the couch next to Bronx. Well, he had no problem making himself at home, did he?
I settle and relax next to him. My eyes feel heavy. I just need to get this over with and head back to my safe haven, where nothing of my past exists except in my memories.
*******************************************
At the funeral home the next day, I felt out of place. I've never had to bury someone before. I've never even been to a funeral before. My parents were private people. Sheltered me most of my juvenile life. Less friends, even less relatives.
"Hello Ms. Brookes, Welcome to Grace's Funeral Home. My name is Mr. Grace. We offer our condolences."
"Thank you Mr. Grace."
My throat feels dry. I realize how much time I missed out with my father, running from the past. Regret fills my body. The man that took care of me, sheltered me, and loved me—I disowned him so easily. How did I become so heartless to my father? I loved him so dearly. My hero, my saving grace from my retched mother. The man had always been in my corner. When I informed him I was going to Washington for college, I could see the pain in his eyes. He kept me so close. I made the decision to break the network of our bond. I made that decision, not him. I feel so sick to my stomach. I choke back the need to run away as I always have. I need to do this; I owe this to my father, to give him my last respects.
He always told me. "You can't change things that are out of your control baby girl, you can only change the things in your control." I thought he was talking to himself, saying that he could not keep me here if I did not want to stay.
I thought he was just trying to keep me in town. Close. Now I see he was giving me life advice. I miss his way of knowing what to say to make me feel at ease. My heart is pounding.
I'm so sorry daddy. I love you.
Mr. Grace leads me first to the caskets. There are so many ranging in color, size, and price. I see a beautiful casket; a dark, cherry wood color with gold bars and gold emblems in the corners that are crosses. It is beautiful. I knew it would be perfect for my father's final resting place. I walked over to it while it sat open. White silk covered the inside—so soft. Yes. This is the one. Mr. Grace writes down the serial number and we move onto the showing times. I chose the day after tomorrow. I have chosen a blue suit and black tie for my father's everlasting slumber. He was always so formal. I knew he would want to look modest. The flower arrangements are next. I chose carnations because my father had always given me carnations on any occasion he could, such as every birthday, Valentine’s Day, and my first dance.
Mr. Grace said he would provide the pall bearers; which was a huge weight lifted off my shoulders. I had no way to figure out how to accommodate for those to carry my father to his timeless stupor.
Of course he would have a plot next to my mother. I understood the reasoning. Love is eternal. He would want to be next to her, with her in the afterlife. I understood their endless love, I just didn't understand her.
As I was leaving the funeral home, I was glad all that was over with. On my way to Lissa’s house for dinner, I had to swing by and pick up Bronx and change into more comfortable clothes. Lissa had been married and divorced since I was last here. She lives alone. Like a cat lady, minus the cats. Loading Bronx into my jeep, I drive to her house. I was excited to see her. So happy that something I was sure of was good and I was genuinely happy about it. I pulled into Lissa’s drive way. Whoa! Nice house.
It has beautiful rose bushes lining the house which is a two-story pale blue in color, with white shutters. She has a nice white fence around it. What a beautiful home. Go Lissa! I silently cheer for my friend. Lissa had become a journalist for the Branchwood Courier. She was very good at her job.
Bronx and I exit the jeep and walk up to knock on her door. Midway to the door, it suddenly springs open. Lissa runs out barefoot. I instantly thought of Bronx. “Heal.” he obeyed, stood next to me ready to strike at anything that slightly endangered me. I beamed at my pup—all protective. Lissa wraps her arms around me nearly knocking me down to the ground. As we both find our footing, tangled in each other’s excitement, we burst out laughing.
“I’ve missed you so damn much!” Lissa shouts.
“I’ve missed you too.” We walk toward the house. It’s even more amazing on the inside. Lissa always had a brilliant decor side to her. She still has that edgy side of her too. After all these years, she is still as beautiful as I remember; tall and slender, with bright blue eyes. They always reminded me of the sky. Shoulder length blonde hair with layers that spike out at the ends; little make-up, she never needed much make-up. She always had that natural beauty to her. She has art decor all over the walls and a bright red couch. I see her wild side has come through her decorating. I have a seat in her living room while she brings in two glasses of ice tea, sitting down next to me, hugging me again. I welcome the warmth. I’ve missed her so much.
“I can’t believe your here. You are really here. I’m so excited.” she sings.
“Me too, I’ve missed you terribly.”
We sip our tea and get comfortable, Bronx at my feet. I’m so glad she allowed Bronx in the house. I really would have been lost without him.
“So how’s being a nurse?”
“It has its ups and downs, but I really love my job. I feel I was born to help people. It’s my calling.”
“Ah.” she says.
“How is being a journalist treating you? Fairly well I would say.” I say, looking around her house.
We laugh. “Yes, well it’s not that good. The divorce helped.” She says with a wink. She always seemed to bounce back from any uncertain turn in her life. She has always been an independent woman who has her own opinions and is not scared to tell anyone what she thinks. I admire her fire.
“Still the same Lissa, I see.”
“Did you expect any less?” She says with a little smile. No, I guess I didn’t. I’m glad she is the same. Life hasn’t changed her one bit. Me, on the other hand, I’ve changed a lot.
“No, I love you just the way you are Ms. West.”
We sit and chit-chat about things that's happened since we have last seen one another. We mostly talk about work, her love life, because mine is none existent.
“So, this Jack character, how did you meet?” I ask.
“It’s crazy really. I was on a date with this really smug guy, full of himself. So I started drinking, really drinking. I over done the drinking and felt really sick.”
“Hmm… Go on.” This does sound crazy, but I’m interested.
“I was stumbling to the bathroom, I swing open the door and rush to the closest sink to me and toss my cookies.”
“Oh, Okay. That seems like one hell of a horrible date.”
“Yes, it was but I’m just getting to the good parts.” She said. I nod for her to continue, which I can’t figure out how this could possibly have a good end to it; with up-chuck being involved.
“Turns out, I was in the men’s restroom. Jack was there. He cleaned me up, took me home. We’ve been inseparable ever
since. That was two months ago.”
Seems so odd how a relationship could blossom and bloom over throw up. Who knew? As long as she’s happy, I am happy for her.
We finish our tea and sit out on the front porch so Bronx can get some air and run around some. We talk about him and how he’s helped me over the years, and how I’ve trained him. I showed her all his commands and how well he listens to me.
We down two more glasses of tea and some cookies while we finish catching up and I head home.
*******************************************
The Funeral was nice. It was respectable to my father and his wishes. It was a cloudy day, which I was thankful for no rain. A few people showed up. I didn’t expect a lot of people. The family was private. Very little relatives and fewer friends. The ceremony was nice. Up-lifting. The photo of my father was from his younger years, holding me in his arms. I was maybe, six years old. He looked so handsome, full of life. I always wondered why or how he ended up with my mother, the worst of the worst. The man was nothing but full of gratitude, kindness, and love. Love takes all prisoners. My father was a prisoner to my mother, tied down by his love for her. I know they had me at a young age, sixteen; that is why my mother was so happy for me to prove her assumptions right of me turning out just like her. I wonder if she ever got tired of being horrible? Mean? I guess not, or she would have changed. My father was still the kind, loving man that I loved with every fiber of my being. He gave me life and love. But some things can’t be forgiven.
As the ceremony came to a close, my father was lowered into the ground. I threw my red carnation down to him—my last goodbye to the first love of my life. No matter what, he was still my father. Lissa was beside me, giving me complete comfort as she always did. I swear I would not be alive if it wasn’t for her. She always said I was too forgiving. But, I never forgave, I just moved on and buried it deep down with the rest of my unspoken pain. My family was not perfect, but to me, my father was damn close. I take a last look at the burial site, I don't know that I will be back to this place, so I take a mental picture. I wipe a lone tear running from my eye as we walk away.
Goodbye daddy.
Lissa drove me straight home to Bronx. I flopped down on the couch, Bronx at my side and Lissa on the other. We didn’t speak much. Words were not needed for the way I was feeling. I never spoke about feelings very much since to me they were weakness. I don’t show weakness.
“Are you hungry Hun?” Lissa quietly asks.
My stomach was growling, but the nausea feeling over-powered my hunger.
“No sweetie, I’m not. Thank you though.” I reply. “I could go for a beer or four.” It was true, this week has ran me into the ground with all that has happened. Being back home was most of it. I’d rather drink down my emotions than speak of them.
“Okay, get up.” Lissa said.
“W-What?”
“Get. Up. We are going to drink until we are ten sheets to the wind.” she says with that happy, upbeat, bubble of a personality.
“Where are we going?”
“Just get dressed. I’ll explain in the car. I’ll borrow something from you; I don’t want to go all the way home.” She says skipping to my bags in the corner. I still refuse to sleep in my room. The couch is fine with me and Bronx was fine as long as he was with me.
“Lissa, you live a few streets over.”
“Oh, I know. But it’s so far.” She says. I can’t help but laugh. She is still as funny as I remember. She always makes me laugh, even at the worst times. She is the sun shining through my storm.
“Okay, let’s go. You’re right—alcohol is needed after this day.”
“That’s the spirit! Let’s get ready.” She yells from the bathroom, already getting dressed in my clothes.
I dig through my bags looking for something. I pick a red and white flannel with my light blue-jean, boot-cut jeans and cowgirl boots. Comfortable. Not trying to win a date or anything. That is the last thing I need or want.
I tell Bronx to stay, a quick kiss goodbye to him and we are out the door. Even Lissa gives him a pat on the head.
*******************************************
“The Dirty Dog. Really Lissa?”
There are very few bars in the tiny town of Branchwood. She has to bring me to this one?
“Yes, really Harleyyy.” Nice emphasis on my name. Dragging it out of her mouth means she is dead serious.
“Why?” I ask.
“Because, Jack is here and I want you to meet him. Is that okay?”
Oh, I did not expect that. She doesn’t want me to meet anyone unless she is serious. She made a special trip to me in Washington with her ex-husband for me to meet him. Oh, no! She is serious about him. Even if she plays it as cool as she thinks she is. I can see right through her. Great! I will be a third wheel. I am not in the mood to watch gushy love birds. Ugh. Sometimes I think of trying the dating world again, but I just end up throwing myself into my work. She has always had my back; there was never really a time where she needed me. On this rare occasion, she needs me. I will be drinking my emotions down anyways. It isn’t like I was going to pour my heart out to her. She knows I have been burying my emotions since that day, so she doesn’t push me. I love that she doesn’t. So if she needs me here and now, you can bet your ass I got her back.
"I have something else to tell you." Okay, now I feel lost, caught off guard. Lissa was never good at keeping things from me. I'm shocked a little at her secrecy. Hmm. I'm kind of proud of her.
As we pull in and park the car, she turns to me. A sudden feel of dread spreads through my mind. Deep breaths. She needs you, just hear her out. It cannot be as bad as your thinking.
"Don't freak out babe. Jack is…well, he's a Hell Hound." My mouth dropped open. She is dead serious. She knows how I feel about them. She springs this on me, right before she wants to ambush me with them?
How thoughtful of her!
Why doesn’t she just kick me in the head and get it over with. At least my emotions wouldn't be clouding every rational thought I had. My week has been rough enough with losing my father and now she wants me to be okay with walking into a Hell Hound bar. Let alone meet one?
What if he is in there right now? Looking over to the building, I get a sense of panic that hits me hard. I start breathing hard and Lissa squeezes my hand. I look into her eyes, trying to read how important it is for me to meet Jack to her. Hope filled her eyes. Damn it! I knew it was important. She would’ve never put me in this kind of position. I swallow hard, slowing my breathing.
"I'll be right here with you, it's important to meet him—for me. The bar was the best for alcohol. I knew you wouldn't like the idea of him belonging to the club. At first, I didn't either. I just want your blessing."
"I'm drinking, a lot. Don't slow me down. I'll meet him and then I'm gone. I love you Lissa, you know this. We are going to have a long talk tomorrow, after my assessment tonight."
"Of course. I'm so happy! I knew you would have my back."
That made my heart hurt a little. Did she question our bond, our sisterhood?
“I'm an adult. I save people’s lives. I can support my damn best friend! Time to grow up! Get your head out of your ass Harley!” I say, giving myself an inner pep talk. What could it hurt?
“Okay, off we go.”
I can see the smile grow larger on her face, showing her bright white teeth. I can feel the happiness rolling off of her. She must really be into this guy. I will have to check him out if it is most definitely this serious. Besides, a best friend has got to approve of the new beau right? I’m flattered she still opens up to me, needing my approval when I’m closed off from her. She has always been that rock for both of us—always. I’ll be that for her tonight.
My full attention goes to my rock tonight. My friend.
Getting out of the car, there is a ton of motorcycles, a few trucks and cars. Clearly it’s a biker bar. Great! Makes the situation all the more real.
Great. Be strong. She needs you, for once. She needs you. Be there for her.
I don’t want to pass judgment, but this place could use a good cleaning with bleach—a lot of it. The smell of cigarettes and alcohol crowd my nose, making my eyes water. Has anyone heard of opening a window? Or a fan? Do they know what damage cigarettes can do to the body? I’m guessing not or they don’t care. Either way, it’s turning my stomach. The faster I get a beer, the better.
Lissa leads us to the bar. It’s packed tonight. It is a Saturday so I guess it should be, right? Lissa put on my tight, short red dress, I don’t know why I packed it. It still had the tags on it when Lissa took it out of my bag. It fits her well. I should just give it to her, it deserves a life of adventure; not sitting in my closet like it has the past year. I bought it on a whim.
Wearing her heels from the funeral, the outfit looks really good on her—even though it’s October. She still looks beautiful, chattering teeth and all. I order a shot of jack and a beer to chase it with.
I need to drown out these damn nerves. I feel like a teenager who is out past curfew, I should be home like a good girl. Nope, have to look for trouble. I feel so out of place. All the women here are barely dressed; might as well be naked. I wondered how someone could dress that way, so degrading to the female species. Rosa Parks and Susan B. Anthony are turning in their graves right now. Tut, tut. Our own kind, feeding into the stereotype we've all battled over for centuries. Shaking my head in disgust,
Lissa gets a water because she is driving. Good thing. I didn’t think of that. She is always making the right decisions. I down my shot and almost my whole beer, ordering two double shots and another beer. Lissa is sipping her water. I down my shots and I’m half-way through my second beer when I see who I assume only could be Jack. Unless, they all walked with this much confidence.
He is tall; maybe six feet, or six-one. Bald, but clearly not caused by age—I take it, it's by choice. Strong jaw, dark green eyes. His shoulders are wide—thick. Tattoos all over, from his neck to his hands. I can clearly imagine he has them on his chest and back as well. His beard is clean cut, maybe four inches long. He is clean cut, considering he is a “biker”— he’s hot. No wonder Lissa didn’t think twice about the biker vibe. As he gets closer I see his cut says “Hell Hound”.
Delayed Love Page 3
