Authors: Charlotte Swanpol
Jade
The silence in the empty mausoleum weighed heavily on Jade, the once-judgemental faces housed in dusty frames now peered at her with sympathy. She had sat in the folding chair sobbing for half an hour, wailing at the top of her lungs. She was grateful that her tears fell on deaf ears; she hated crying in front of people.
She didn’t think she had any tears left; it felt like that was all she’d been doing the last nine months, whether happy or sad, or anything in between. She felt wrung dry; thoroughly empty and void of emotion. It was wonderfully cathartic.
She sat in the quiet, staring through the polished glass door housing her mother’s ashes, the brass urn waiting patiently for whatever else might come. She took a breath and sighed, all the tension from her body diminished. She was exhausted. She’d held nothing back, crying about everything: about what happened that night with Owen, and about what happened with Lewis. About her guilt over both. She cried about her fears, and her betrayal, and about her mother. She cried out of grief, and frustration, and anger. She cried about things she’d thought were long buried. And finally, after nine months, she mourned the loss of her mother.
“I really needed you tonight,” she whispered. The sconces on the wall cast a warm glow on the cold words. “I’ve been trying really hard not to be mad at you, but I am. I’m mad that you weren’t here for me, tonight. I’m mad that you’re not here, and that you’ve been robbed of the rest of your life. I’m mad that I wasn’t there when you — when it happened. I’m mad at your doctors and nurses. I’m mad that there was nothing we could do.
“I’m mad that every time I go to call you, you won’t answer the phone. And I’m mad that every time it happens, I forget. I’m mad at the fact that you won’t be at my wedding, or get to meet your grandchildren. And that I couldn’t run to you to show you my ring. I’m mad at this fucked up situation I’m in! I’m mad that you aren’t here to hug me, and listen, and tell me that it’s all going to be okay! My fucking fiancé is at home cheating on me, Mom, and you’re not here! I need you here!”
New tears stung hot down her cheeks, the end of her scream trailing off among the walls of glass. She felt as though there was a ball of molten lead where her heart should be, and it took every ounce of strength left in her to stop herself from clawing it out. Hopeless and helpless, she sat gasping among the ghosts.
“I can’t let you go,” she coughed. “I can’t do this without you, Mom. You’re my best friend. I need you here.”
She sat rocking, softly, her tears dried up but her grief a freshly salted wound.
“What do I do?” she asked. “What am I supposed to do, Mom? I need your advice.”
She thought about Lewis, and wanted to punch the wall. She thought about Owen; how she was certain she’d fucked everything up. She looked at her engagement ring, and back up at the photo of her beautiful smiling mother.
“Did you even like him?” Jade asked. “I know what he did for us, when you were sick, and what he did for me when—you died.” She made herself say it.
“But is that enough reason to stay with him? I know what I did tonight was terrible, I know that. But Mom, he’s been so different these past few months; jealous, and possessive, and cruel. He’s been so mean to me, Mom. Do I have to stay with him just because he held my hand at your funeral?
“I mean, it wasn’t always this way. There’s a reason we’ve been together for three years. But when times get tough, he pulls away? Shuts me out? He pushes me away so he can pull in someone else. Since the night we got engaged, he’s broken my heart. He’s broken my heart every day for the past three months. I deserve better.”
She sat, stunned, her truth echoing around her as if the listening dearly departed agreed.
She took another deep breath and looked around, the early morning light beginning to peek through the stained glass. Looking at her phone, she noticed she had quite a few missed text messages and calls; three from Lewis, and two from an unknown number. After she’d decided against calling Lewis back – he’d be furious if she woke him up this early – she noticed she had a voicemail. Dialing her machine, she waited.
“Hi Jade,” a familiar voice rumbled. “It’s Doctor Aze- it’s Owen. I hope it’s okay that I got your phone number from – it doesn’t matter. Look, I wanted to apologize for what happened. I meant what I said, I don’t regret it. But I can’t have made this easy on you. I just want you to know I’m always here for you, if you need or want me to be. I don’t take back anything I said, about my feelings. Anyway, I hope you know I care about you. And I hope I hear from you.”
Of all the silences she’d experienced that night, that one was the heaviest. Reeling, she scrolled through her missed messages in an attempt to distract herself from what she’d just heard. Among the few from Lewis, and one from her best friend and Maid of Honor, Mandy, was a text message from the same unknown number. All it read was an address.
Jade was up and out the mausoleum doors before she knew it, very nearly running to the main road. Speaking to the dispatcher for a taxi was difficult to do while she hurried, but somehow she’d communicated her need of one, and when she arrived at the front door to the funeral home, one was waiting for her. She threw open the door and spat the address at the driver.
As they navigated the streets into the suburbs a wide, bright grin spread across her face. She’d made up her mind. Her back ached from the boning in her gown; she ached to take it off. At that, her smile widened even further.
They drove past a giant oak tree, and she leaned her head against the car window. The cool glass felt good against her skin, she thought she might combust.
I wonder what he’ll say!
When they pulled up a moment later in front of a handsome little bungalow with a delightful little covered porch, her grin became a contented smile. She took a moment to soak it in; it was charming. After paying the driver, she got out of the car and closed the door as quietly as she could, so as not to wake him, or his neighborhood.
As lightly as she could, she climbed the porch steps, all the things she wanted to say speeding through her mind.
Hi Owen,
she rehearsed.
I got your message, and the address you texted me. I hope I didn’t screw everything up. You were so romantic, the things you said – I couldn’t stop thinking about them all night.
She wracked her brain to see if there was anything she’d left out of her speech. After she’d made all the revisions she could fathom, she paused to take a breath before knocking on the door.
This is it.
Before she had had time to think about knocking, the door flew inward, two voices cut off as soon as she was visible.
“Jade?” Alexa snorted incredulously. “What are
you
doing here?”
Jade looked from the girl to Owen, the shock of her still contorting his beautiful face.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“Well, I should think it was pretty obvious,” she giggled, gesturing to her rose-colored ensemble.
The frigid ocean that washed over Jade extinguished any lingering threat of combustion. Alexa rattled on, but Jade wasn’t listening. She just looked up at Owen, searching desperately for silent answers, but his eyes would not oblige.
If she hadn’t spent the whole night crying, Jade was certain she’d burst into tears. As she took in his shirtless form, she noticed dozens of bubble gum-pink smooches all over his torso, made worse only by the countless trenches in his luminous skin, no doubt made by the girl’s fake nails.
She was disgusted. She was disgusted with Owen, and his abhorrent taste in women; with his thoughtlessness. She was disgusted with herself, too, for allowing herself to believe that she was any different in his eyes. She felt foolish. She was sure there was steam rising where her cheeks met the brisk, December air.
Without a word, she turned on her heel and descended the steps, marching away from this stupid little house in the stupid suburbs. She wanted to scream.
***
Her fourth cab of the night pulled up in front of her apartment building, and she couldn’t think of anywhere she wanted to be less.
If that slut is still there when I walk in, I don’t know what I’ll do.
Walking down the hallway to her apartment door was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. The memory of the last time resurfacing time and time again, but she forced herself to walk on. She made sure the make a racket with her keys before sliding it in and unlocking the door. She took a moment before opening the door; she was terrified of what she might find on the other side.
The apartment looked normal enough, sun pouring through the kitchen window to reveal a sink full of dirty dishes.
It’s like nothing happened
. The thought upset her. Her life was shattered, changed forever; everything else should be different, too.
It looked the same, smelled the same; the only thing changed was her view of the place. She couldn’t believe that the same apartment could appear so different without changing a wink.
The last thing she wanted was coffee – she’d been up all night, and crying to boot – but she couldn’t bring herself to sit anywhere. She couldn’t bring herself to open the bedroom door. As the coffee dripped, Jade scanned the room. She hadn’t noticed any strange shoes or coats, for which she was glad, but that didn’t mean anything. If this had been going on as long as she suspected, they’d have grown as skilled at hiding the evidence as hiding the crime, itself.
Walking into the bathroom, she nearly howled. Her reflection was a pitiful sight; no wonder Owen’s face contorted when he looked at her. Layers of sodden makeup crusted her face, her eyes bloodshot. Suddenly she wanted to shower – not wanted,
needed
. She unzipped her gown and let it fall to the floor, a pool of shadowy regret at her feet.
The water was hot, a little too hot, but the pain felt good. She scrubbed and lathered several times over before sitting down, the gravity of her circumstances tugging at her spirit. She was terrified.
But you’re not afraid of what you might find,
she rationalized.
You’re afraid that you know what you’ll find. You’re afraid of what finding that would mean; what finding that would change.
As she sat beneath the droplets, strategizing, the shower curtain slid open. Lewis knelt outside of the ceramic tub, his face streaked with worry.
“Lewis! I -- ”
“Where the
hell
have you been?” he demanded. “I’ve been worried sick about you! Why didn’t you answer my calls?”
He looked genuinely frantic, his face dancing between relief and anxiety. Jade looked down, silent. She wasn’t ready to do this yet. She still had so many words to organize in her mind.
“I was at the mausoleum,” she explained. The dance on his face halted, replaced only with compassion.
“By yourself? Why would you do that? That must have been so difficult – I told you I wanted to be there with you the first time.”
Her rapid heart slowed and, for a moment, she almost forgot the night before. He had mentioned that to her; she knew that he understood what going to the mausoleum meant for her. He knew what it meant that she’d gone alone. Her lip began to tremble.
“Hey,” he whispered, caressing her quivering lip with his thumb. “You did something really brave last night. You did something that was really, really hard and I’m proud of you.”
She looked up at him, his eyes seeking hers, and she knew he meant it. She nearly exploded in laughter; she must be quite the sight, huddled up on the floor of the tub, a curtain of long, wet hair matting against her skin. She indulged him with a smile.
“You had quite the night – you must be starving. Why don’t we go and get breakfast?”
She leaned over and kissed him, softly, on the mouth. It was the last thing she wanted to do, but also the only thing.
She looked up at him with a small smile, and he smiled back. Despite everything that had happened, when he looked at her like that, her heart still skipped a beat.
“Do you still want to marry me?” she asked.
“Yes,” he nodded.
“Even all pathetic and sopping wet like this?” Jade joked.
“It’s a good look,” he teased, and Jade grinned back. He still loved her.
After a moment, he dropped his smile, worry creasing his face. His brow furrowed, and Jade held her breath. When he looked at her again, tears and sorrow swam in his eyes.
“I need to tell you something.”
Owen
Owen stood in his post-operation shower, thinking; the water that beat down a little hotter than usual – almost too hot. Almost. He normally found hot showers to be overbearing – they made him dizzy, lightheaded, which was not good for surgery – but he’d built up a tolerance over the last two weeks.
The first of its kind occurred after he shut the door behind Alexa. Scalding water couldn’t cleanse his conscience, but it could cleanse his body, and that was a start. He’d leaned up against the shower wall, relishing the heat. He’d been furious with himself.
How could he not remember that he’d called Jade? That he’d sent her a message with his address? He had wanted her to come, most definitely – that’s why he’d contacted her. Had any part of him actually believed she would? Was there any part of him that thought she wouldn’t? How Alexa ended up in his bed? Now it was final: he’d fucked up. Big time.