Mortified, I answered the door in my pink terrycloth bathrobe.
“Hey,” Zac said, his black hair shining under the hallway light. He easily surpassed six feet tall, and his biceps bulged underneath his button-up. I couldn’t help but stare at his sexy-as-hell five o’clock shadow and his perfect dimples.
“Uh, didn’t you get my text?” I asked as my cheeks turned crimson.
“I did, but I came up here anyway. Did you know your RA is smoking pot in her room? Didn’t even notice me as I passed.” He chuckled.
“I can’t come tonight. I’m, uh, busy. Have to study.”
My roommate, Francine, rolled her eyes while painting her nails. “She’s just nervous.”
I shot a death glare toward Francine, terrified to return my gaze to Zac. But when I did, his smile melted my heart into a puddle at my feet. Somewhat still reluctantly, I asked Zac to give me a few minutes while I dressed.
“I’d wait forever if you needed it,” he said.
Francine pretended to gag, but I couldn’t help but fall in love. At that exact moment.
Sometimes you just knew when you meet someone that they would change your life forever. Zac changed my life, and he was still changing it, even though he was gone.
Every few hundred yards or so, cars crossed the bridges over the river to get to the other side of the city. I recognized a few of the drivers and waved hesitantly, unsure if they'd remember me. After all, it'd been many years since I stepped foot onto the path beside the river. Not to mention, I didn't grow out of my awkward phase until after I moved to Ashford. It was possible some people in Keygate wouldn't be able to place me.
Finally, I reached the secret spot I visited far too many times to count growing up. I hopped the low fence and climbed down a steep incline to find the small creek and waterfall. The rotten scent of sewage wafted through the air, but the waterfall's beauty helped mask the unfavorable smell.
There was a concrete ledge that extended almost over the creek. It was slightly crumbling and bore the faint sketches of past graffiti. There were strange symbols painted and dozens of names. It almost served as a ledger of who loved who in Keygate.
Taking off my flats, I tiptoed across the concrete landing and sat at its edge; my feet dangled and caught mist from the waterfall. I remembered coming here years ago, on a rare occasion, with friends. We thought we were so cool. We'd smoke cigarettes and sometimes a little pot. We'd talk about our futures and discuss the universe. Life was so simple back then. We believed we were invincible.
Returning as an adult, I envied my former self. I wished I could experience that again. I wished I still believed nothing, and no one could ever hurt me. I wanted to feel untouchable. I still had a long life ahead of me, but it was different now. The cruelty of life had revealed itself far too many times. Time had a way of chipping away our exterior until we were exposed to its truth, no matter how unforgettable.
I opened the flask and sipped from it, then gulped down its contents. The familiar warmth of liquor spread through my body, calming the demons and squelching the body shakes.
Suddenly, I heard several voices coming closer. I whipped around as a group of teenage boys, skateboards in tow, climbed over the fence and made their way down to my spot.
One of them, a boy with shaggy hair, stopped. "Oh, hey. Didn't know anyone else was here."
Others snickered behind him, clearly not expecting to see a woman down here.
"It's okay, I was just leaving," I said as I stood up and brushed myself off.
"You don't have to leave!" one said, winking.
I was at least ten years older than these boys. I wondered if guys my age acted like this back then, although I couldn't remember. Or rather, I tried to forget.
"No, thanks," I said politely, grabbing my flats and hiking back up the little hill to the fence.
I heard one whistle, and I rolled my eyes. As I climbed over the fence, the boys eyed me carefully.
"Hey, kids," I called out.
“Yeah?"
"Don't grow up," I said.
Six
"How was the river?" Jack asked.
I peeked outside the window to spot a straw sunhat on top of my mother's head. She picked up gardening in the past few years and used it as a tool to keep her busy in retirement.
"Quiet," I answered, not wanting to mention the teen boys at the waterfall or the fact I drank several ounces of vodka.
"Great time of year for it. Hopefully, the geese didn't give you too many problems." He winked.
I smiled. Heaven knew I needed a lighter mood today. Jack and my mom decided not to join me at the funeral but sent my dad their condolences in the form of flowers and a card. Despite their decades-old divorce, they tried to remain civil.
In my childhood room, I applied my makeup and added a few loose curls to my hair as planned. I chose a plum lipstick which contrasted with my eyes. I could only imagine how many people I'd see today, and though I tried not to care what others thought of me, I always did.
I sat on my bed and pulled my nude pantyhose over my knobby and bruised knees. It didn't matter if I was thirteen or thirty, I always managed to scrape myself up somehow, even if I couldn't remember doing so.
Next, I slipped into a pair of black stiletto heels and smoothed my dress. I ran out of time to take the garment to the dry cleaners before departing for Keygate, but it'd have to do. I didn't have a choice in the matter now. It was time to bury my stepmother.
While the liquor numbed me to an extent, I could still feel the voracious pull of grief at my soul. I wanted to pretend Callie was still alive. That Carin was still alive, and most importantly, that Zac was still alive. But life didn’t work that way. No matter how much we wanted to frame and mold our lives, we only ended up ruining it even more.
I arrived at St. Matthew's and found my father at the church entrance, greeting those who came to pay their respects. I wrapped my arms around my dad's neck and kissed his cheek. It would be a hard day for him, maybe the hardest he'd ever had.
Today was also the first funeral I’d attended since Zac's. My pulse quickened, and beads of sweat danced down the small of my back. I nibbled at my cuticles and held my breath. Grief shoved its way through my consciousness. There was nothing I could do to send it away.
Dozens of people showed up. I wondered if my father would lose his strength or break down in front of half the town. Instead, he stood tall and took the day in stride. I planted my feet beside him. The weight of death seemed to push me deeper into the ground, urging me to meet those who passed and rested beneath the earth's surface.
Carin's family was there, and while we were not close by any means, they remained cordial and polite. So many of her friends came too, weepy-eyed and downtrodden. Many of them spoke on her behalf at the service. Even my father gathered all his strength to do so. I, however, respectfully declined. But I sat and listened to the stories and memories retold by those who loved her deeply. Carin never had any children of her own, so when she and my father married, she treated me like her own child. This didn't go over well because I already had a mother. Her urge to control and parent me created miles of tension between us, which ebbed and flowed during my teenage years.
"Carin and I were married just over a decade and a half," my dad said. "She was my best friend and my soulmate. After my divorce, love seemed like a distant concept to me. I doubted I'd ever find it again. I didn't want to find it again. With love often comes heartbreak. I couldn't bear to have mine broken anymore.”