Vital Sign

“April 20, 2013.”


“I met Mrs. Hampton the kidney lady and Terry Jones the liver guy. They were nice. She apologized a lot. He bought me dinner. His wife made me cry. I hated all of it. I may skip on meeting the guy who got your heart. I can’t take this.”

Seven. “April 22, 2013.”

“I met him. I met Alexander McBride. I miss you.”

Seven.

“April 23, 2013.”

“Jake. Jake. Jake,” she says into the phone like a prayer. It breaks my heart a little more. She doesn’t say anything else.

Seven.

“April 24, 2013.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never should have let him touch me. I never should have wanted him to touch me. Jake…” Her violent crying fills my ear and have my eyes stinging with brewing tears of my own. I take a deep breath and swallow hard to keep it together.

Seven.

“April 27, 2013.”

“I messed up. I messed up so bad. There isn’t room for both of you. I wish I knew if you could hear me wherever heaven is.”

Seven.

“April 30, 2013.”

“I don’t know what to do, Jake.”

Seven.

“May 10, 2013.”

“I read your letter. I’ll keep my promise. I swear it. Thank you, Jake. Thank you for being you. Thank you for the letter. I wasn’t ready for it up until now. I’m scared, but I’m ready.”

Seven.

“July 1, 2013.”

“This—this is the last time. I cancelled the cell phone service finally. I have to go after him. I have to get him back. I’m going back to Tybee. Jake, I—I love him. I love Zander. I want to invite him in. I just hope that I can explain—that he can forgive me for staying away. That he’ll still want me. I have to let you go now. I have to let myself live. I love you always, Jake. Always.”

The call ends and the robotic greeting begins. “You have no more saved messages. Press—”

I end the call and just stare at the phone like it’s a fucking mystery. I’m shaking. What the fuck just happened? My mouth is hanging open a little and I feel like I’ve swallowed a fistful of wet sand.

“She loves me?” I mumble to myself, testing the words like they may evaporate before they even pass over my lips.





Chapter Twenty-Five


Making Room


Sadie


June 29, 2013

I guess the funny thing about grief is that it has a way of dictating so damn much.

If you let it.

And that’s what I have done for so long. Too long.

I had dismissed myself into the shadow of loss to disappear there because the bright light of my reality was far too much for the eyes that had seen so much, that had cried so many tears. I retreated into the caverns of my dimly lit existence and stayed there to keep company with invisible wounds, sure that I was far too weak to do battle with my opponent.

Then there was Zander. He slipped into my darkness and beckoned me out into the light to face reality. Not because he lured me there. Not because he enticed me. Not because he forced me. No. Zander summoned me without even knowing it. He gave me the courage to realize that the wholeness that fills me when I’m with him is so much more powerful than the guilt and sadness that I’ve insisted on carrying for so long. I’ve refused forgiveness and in turn have endured the torture of self-punishment. No one is capable of punishing a person quite like they’re capable of punishing themselves.

I’ve been cruel and unkind to me.

I picked on Sadie Parker, the girl who once had a carefree, artistic spirit. I despised her. I think I only envied her. I was angry that she had gone and I thought that wherever she’d retreated to was out of reach for the shell she’d left behind. I made myself sad and bitter and angry at the world around me for no reason other than misery loves company, I suppose. I forgive me, though. I forgive me. I forgive me. I forgive me. Everyone needs forgiveness, even from themselves. Maybe…mostly from themselves.

Only I am capable of giving myself that gift and so I have. I’m working on it. I’m doing battle against the darkness. I’m doing battle against the two years that I spent allowing myself to be miserable and dragging everyone around me down into the pits of my personal hell.

I wish I could write a letter to myself and drop it in the mail, sure that wherever the old me had moved on to, she’d get it. She’d read it and know that I intend on righting my wrongs. Starting with Zander. I have two years of my history to rewrite and it’s all in hopes that when I see him again, I’ll be a woman worth loving. He deserves that. He deserves all of me. I may not deserve him, but I have to try.

***

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