Unspeakable Truths (3 page)

I climb the marble staircase up to the second level, enter my cavernous bedroom, and toss my purse onto the dresser. I plug my cell in the charger before I strip down to my t-shirt and panties, tie my hair up into a messy bun, and climb onto the massive bed. It’s not even twelve o’ clock in the afternoon, but I feel emotionally drained after my visit to the cemetery. Sleep is the best thing for me right now—if I’m lucky I can escape my feelings through sleep. In the beginning, I would dream of chocolate eyes, the eyes that I used to love getting lost in which now sadly only haunt me.

I wake to the sound of my cell phone ringing; my eyes try to adjust to the light as I clumsily reach out for my phone.

“Hello,” I answer with a groggy voice, not even bothering to check who it is. I don’t get many phone calls anyway; realistically it can only be a handful of people.

“Hey Everly, I was just thinking about you and I wanted to check in. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

I let out a sigh doing a poor job of hiding my slight annoyance. “Oh hi Morgan. No, no, it’s not a bad time, how are you?”

Morgan is my best friend if you can even call her that anymore. She’s one of the many people I’ve pushed away since Tyler died; she’s also one of the only few who haven’t given up all hope on me. Every couple of weeks she calls me to “check in”. It’s nice that she still cares enough to bother, and I guess I don’t mind the phone calls, it keeps me somewhat connected to the outside world, but today is just not a good day. It’s been four years since the day I married Tyler, and it’s just one day shy of the day he died.

“I’m good, I just haven’t talked to you in a while, and I thought that maybe you’d want to meet up for dinner or something?”

I lie. “I’m sorry Morgan, I’m coming down with a cold or something and I’d feel terrible if I got you sick.”

I hear her sigh on the other end of the line, her frustration with me is so evident that she doesn’t even try to hide it anymore. I don’t blame her; I’d be frustrated with me too. I’ve only seen her four or five times in the last two years, and it isn’t due to lack of trying on her part, but Morgan always tries to make everything better. The kind of girl who tells you that everything will be alright when you’re so deep in shit that you can’t see anything else. She’s the first one to tell you that everything happens for a reason; that you have to try to find the positive in even the worst situations. Unfortunately I find it difficult to find anything good about having a dead husband.

“Okay, I understand. I’ll try you again in a few weeks. Hopefully you’ll feel better by then.”

“Yeah, well thanks for calling,” I respond before ending the call and falling back into my bed. I feel bad for blowing her off, but I’m not so fired up to hear any of the self-help bullshit today. If I wasn’t starving, I’d attempt to go back to sleep because I’ve been known to sleep entire days away. After Tyler died I suffered with bouts of insomnia, and the only thing that helped were the sleeping pills my doctor had prescribed to me after my near nervous breakdown. After a while he refused to keep refilling the prescription, so now when necessary I just chug Nyquil like I would a can of cola.

I get up, putting on the same jeans I discarded earlier, and head downstairs to the kitchen. I decide to peruse the contents of my freezer, quickly coming to find that there
are
no contents in my freezer. I’ve got to give it to my mom; she’s usually right on top of making sure there’s enough food in this house to keep me fed. I’ve never asked her to go grocery shopping for me, but after four years, I’ve kind of come to expect it.

“Cereal it is then,” I murmur to myself as I open the refrigerator door. I look around a moment before finally accepting the fact that there is no milk. I shut the door with a little more force than I intended to use. I can hear the rattling of whatever jars may be situated inside. I walk over to the island in the middle of the kitchen and lean against it, resting my head in the palm of my hands. I’m waging an internal battle—do I order food and pray that my mom actually comes through with groceries in the near future or do I act like an adult and go buy my own.

The mere fact that I have to contemplate this at all sickens me. This isn’t how I’m supposed to be, sitting at home with no motivation to do anything. I used to love life. I loved everything about it—the way the sun shines through the window in the morning, and the way it felt on my skin when I’d go for a walk. I loved spending time with my friends, taking trips, having fun. The girl I am now is a far departure from who I used to be, and I’m disgusted with myself. The fact that I’ve let myself get to a point where the simple act of buying groceries is cause for concern. Have I really become that much of a recluse?

“Fuck this.” I push off of the counter and go to grab my purse and car keys. I will not let something as mundane as buying food overpower me. This is where I need to draw the line. I need to start taking better care of myself; I shouldn’t have to be reduced to starvation because I’d rather wallow in self-pity. The drive to the grocery store just outside of town takes only 15 minutes; I choose this one with the hope that my chances of running into someone I know will be significantly decreased.

I grab a shopping cart and take my time slowly going up and down every aisle, putting things in my cart as I go. It’s silly but I actually feel a sense of power that I haven’t felt for years, doing something for myself, making choices for myself, getting what I want. Something as ordinary as going to the grocery store, a task that most people find boring or mundane makes me feel like I’ve just jumped a tremendous hurdle. I pay for my purchases and push the cart out to the parking lot, popping the trunk and placing everything inside. Just as I move to slam it shut I hear a voice from the past, an all too familiar voice.

“Everly?”

My body stiffens, and I can almost feel my blood begin to boil the instant I hear the deep timbre of his voice. An intense anger fills up every crevice of my body, making me feel nauseated and unsteady. Memories rush back into my head, opening a floodgate of emotions that I didn’t need to feel, especially not today. I slowly turn and come face to face with
him
—the sole reason that Tyler is gone today.

“Luca,” I say on a breath, but looking at him again breaks something apart inside of me. Something that I’ve been struggling so hard to keep under the surface, and I hate him for it. I hate him just as much today as I did when my life was obliterated four years ago, and suddenly I’m back there again, back to the place where I lost it all.

I’m awoken by the shrill sound of a nearby telephone. I open my eyes and try to get my bearings. It takes me a second to realize that I’m at the hotel. I peek over my shoulder, and Tyler is still sound asleep. Who could possibly sleep through that ringing?

I reach over to the nightstand and grab the receiver bringing it up to my ear.

“Hello?”

“This is your courtesy wake-up call,” says the voice on the other line.

“Thank you,” I reply before hanging up. I throw my head back on the pillow and stretch my arms up over my head.

“Ty, we have a flight to catch babe,” I groan out mid stretch. Excitement starts to build at the thought of Tyler and me on a beach, sipping drinks and soaking each other up.

I roll my head to the side and smile at the sight of my sleeping husband. My husband… I still can’t believe that we’re married.

“Come on Ty, we have to start getting ready.”

He turns his head to squint at me. “It’s still early babe. Our flight isn’t until later.”

“I know honey but by the time we get up, get ready, and have breakfast, it’ll be time to go. The airport is over an hour away, did you take travel time into account?”

I hear a low chuckle escape from his lips. “Alright, go hop in the shower. I’ll be up by the time you’re done.”

I smile at him. Tyler has never been a morning person, and getting him out of bed is always a challenge, but he’s right we have time. “Okay. But you better be up by the time I come back in here,” I say. I place a quick kiss on his lips and make my way to the bathroom. I take a few minutes inspecting my reflection in the mirror, funny… I know it’s silly but I thought I’d look different somehow as if getting married changes you somehow.

I take my time in the shower enjoying the feel of the warm water on me. I imagine that Tyler is probably still in bed, the things we can do together if I just went back into the room and crawled in beside him. Tyler knows me like the back of his hand, he knows exactly what to do to set me off and with him it’s always sweet. From the beginning it’s always been about making love, expressing how we feel about each other intimately. I don’t know if it can get any better than that, although him being a little bossy in bed yesterday was a nice change, that might be fun to explore in the future. I turn off the shower and dry myself off before wrapping the oversized towel around my body. I towel dry my hair and run a brush through it before exiting the bathroom. As I walk back into the bedroom I notice that Tyler is up and dressed already.

“You’re actually up already?” I question with amazement. “Aren’t you going to take a shower?”

He walks over to me wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me in for an embrace. “I’ll grab a shower when I get back babe. Luca dropped by and asked me to give him a ride home. He spent the night at the hotel too and apparently his date ditched him last night.”

I make no attempt to hide my annoyance when I use my hands to push at his chest enabling me to disengage from him. “You’re joking right?” It comes out like more of a warning than a question.

“No.” He sighs. “It’ll take me a half hour tops babe. He’s my best friend, what do you expect me to do?”

“How about telling him to call a cab?”

“Is that what you’d do if Morgan knocked on the door right now?”

He has me there, I’d never deny my best friend anything, but Luca is different. He’s always been a source of contention in my relationship with Tyler. He and I have never gotten along, and I hate the fact that he has the power to cause tension between me and Ty.

“Alright fine, go. You always come to the rescue where he’s concerned.” Arguments like these are not uncommon for us, but the day after our wedding, when we’re about to go on our honeymoon… Even I can’t believe this shit.

“Please don’t be that way. He’s like a brother to me,” he says reaching out and grabbing my hand. “But you…you are my wife, and we’re about to leave on our honeymoon and have an amazing time. It’ll be just you and me.” He pulls me closer wrapping his arms around my waist and placing a kiss on my neck. “And when we get to Antigua Ev… I’m not letting you out of the room for at least twenty-four hours… At least!” he declares with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

“You promise?”

“Mmm hmm.”

I let out a sigh; he knows he’s won me over already.

“Get yourself dressed and ready, I’ll be back before you know it. I’ll take you to breakfast on the way to the airport.”

“Alright, but hurry up.”

“I will.” He releases me and grabs his keys off of the nightstand. “I love you,” he calls out right before he walks out the door and just like that he’s gone.

My eyes are shut tight and I’m holding on to my car for dear life while I gasp for air and fight for breath as the memory recedes. The panic attack hit too quickly. I haven’t had one in over two years, and I’d thought that they were behind me, but seeing
him
again must have triggered it.