Remembering Phoenix (7 page)

“But you don’t want me to stay in my daughter’s life.”

Her demeanor goes from guilty to heated in a mere second. “She’s not your daughter. She’s Marcu—“

“Marcus’s. Yeah I fucking get it. I get that you’ve been letting me play daddy for nine months, and also letting him play daddy too. But I don’t believe it. I won’t believe she isn’t mine until I have proof. I demand a paternity test. And if she is my daughter, I will make your life hell. You understand me? I gave you everything. I promised I would do everything for Claire. For you. Yet, I’m the asshole in this situation. At least that’s what everyone will think. Isn’t it, Jodi? You’ll make yourself look like the victim and me, the bad guy.”

She folds her arms in front of her body. “I’ll give you two minutes with Claire. After that, we’re leaving.”

I take one final look at her before marching into the living room. I bend down and pick Claire up off the makeshift pallet she’s asleep on. Pulling her into me, I smell the lavender shampoo she always gets bathed in. I twirl her little brown ringlets around my finger, memorizing her every detail. Her raspy little laugh she gives when you tickle her toes. How she has the faintest dimple in her left cheek. “Hey, Claire Bear,” I whisper so only she can hear me. She squirms as she wakes up. “I want you to know I love you, little one. You were, and will always, be the single greatest thing to ever happen to me. If I never get to see you again, I just want you to know that you are loved.” I stop as my throat closes up with emotion. I kiss her forehead gently, hugging her for what could very well be the last time.

She babbles in my arms as Jodi walks up to us. She holds out her hands to take Claire from me. “You don’t have to keep her from me.”

“It’s not fair to her,” Jodi concedes.

I kiss Claire one last time before handing her over to her mother. “What you did wasn’t fair,” I correct her. “But you selfishly made us both love each other for over nine months.”

She sighs heavily and looks up at me before turning away to leave. My front door swings open and who can only be Marcus stands in the doorway. My anger boils. But, in an instant, my anger dissipates into absolute heartbreak as Claire looks at me and says for the very first, and possibly last, time, “Da Da
.” 

I pinch the bridge of my nose as the memory floods me. Living with a memory is hard. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I just want to find her, take her, and never let her go. But I can’t. She’s not mine to take.

Two weeks after Jodi left, I was given the news Claire wasn’t mine. That was the night I went to the bar, looking to drink away the pain.

A throat clears beside me. I look to my right and see Charlie standing there. “Could you scoot over a bit?” She shoos her hands in the direction she wants me to move. I do, because even though I don’t want to, I kind of want her to sit by me. And I need the distraction from my thoughts. She is the perfect distraction, I must admit. “Thanks,” she says as she stands next to me.

“I can’t believe you’re sitting by me.”

She looks down the table, eyeing every occupied chair. “Didn’t really have a choice, now did I?”

“Way to make a man feel good,” I respond.

“Well,” she shrugs, “I try.” She sits down, scooting the chair up.

She sips on her punch, and cuts her eyes to me. She looks as enthused about this thing as I am. “Having fun?”

She laughs. “About as fun as one could have, I guess.”

“I hear you,” I say. I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s stunning. Her blonde hair swooped back and up off her neck. The way her makeup makes her green eyes shine brighter than they already were. “It was good seeing you out last night.”

“So you say.” She rolls her eyes as she takes a bite of a tortilla pinwheel.

“I do say.” I smirk. “I’m glad you decided to come instead of staying home.”

She shrugs. “It was for my sister. That’s all.”

She goes back to picking at the food on her plate, and I continue watching her out of the corner of my eye. I can’t help it. She’s like a magnet and I can’t help but move closer to her. To know her. Watch her. To be around her.

The lights suddenly dim in the room, catching us off guard. I look up to see what’s going on, when a screen comes down from the ceiling with a projector shining directly at it. The atmosphere turns serious in an instant.

The screech of a microphone cuts through the silence. “Hi everyone,” Lizzie starts. “I just want to thank you all for coming and celebrating this special day with Stetson and me. I can’t express how grateful we are to have all of you here. There are some very important people missing from this day, as you all know.” She takes a deep breath. “Stet’s parents passed away several years ago, and I know if they could be here, they would. I hope they approve of me.” She laughs sadly.

I know they would approve. Lizzie has been nothing but good to Stetson since they’ve been together, and all my parents asked for was for us to find someone who was good to us. Stetson found that in Lizzie. Me? Yeah, I’m still coming up short.

“I’ve never met them, but from what I can tell, they were incredible people who loved their sons endlessly. I know they raised an amazing man, who I get to spend the rest of my life with.”

There’s an ache in my chest as the words, and the reality, set in. I’ve handled my parents’ death very well, considering. I’ve mourned, but I’ve moved on from the pain. I don’t dwell in it, because they wouldn’t want me to. They lived a life so full of energy, love, and passion. They’d want me to do the same, not stay stuck on their passing. It doesn’t mean the pain isn’t always there.

“There’s one more person who isn’t here today,” she continues. “I am sure y’all noticed, but we didn’t have a ring bearer. I couldn’t fill a spot for someone who is absolutely irreplaceable. My nephew, Phoenix, was the light of my life, as well as for everyone who got the privilege to love him for the four short years we had him. I don’t want this day to be sad, but I couldn’t go through the most important day of my life without acknowledging one of the most important people in mine.” She stifles a cry. “This is for you, Phoenix. I know you’d be so proud of your mommy. I sure am.”

The screen flickers on and instrumental music starts floating throughout the reception area. I scan the room with my eyes, but all eyes are deadlocked on the screen. Photos start floating across the screen.

The first picture is of a baby, swaddled in a tiny little airplane blanket. The sadness in the air is palpable. You can nearly feel everyone’s ache. The second photo floats across the screen, then stops. It is of a little boy, maybe two. He’s got blonde hair and the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen. He’s beautiful.

He looks just like…

Charlie.

I turn my head towards Charlie, but she’s only focused on one thing—staring directly at the screen in agony. Her hands clutch her chest as she watches the slideshow and listens to the beautifully heartbreaking music. I flick my eyes back to the screen just as a photo of Charlie and who I now know is Phoenix are in a warm embrace. There is nothing but pure, brazen love shining from their faces. Charlie’s hair is shorter, her face bare of the scar. But she doesn’t look any more or less beautiful than she does now. She just looks…happy. There’s a smile spread across her face, one that isn’t forced or fake. It’s real, and absolutely stunning.

I quickly look back to Charlie as tears quietly stream down her face. My chest constricts as I watch her fall apart in front of everyone. I’m torn between giving her space and getting her out of here.

What do I do?

I act, grabbing her hand and lightly tugging it. “Come on.”

She looks at me, then back towards where Lizzie sits. Lizzie watches her with sorrow on her face. Charlie mouths to her,
It’s okay. I have to go.
Lizzie nods in understanding.

I squeeze Charlie’s hand a little tighter as we weave our way through the maze of tables and chairs until we reach the exit, not caring if I’m leaving my brother behind on his wedding day. He should understand. Apparently he knew about this and failed to mention it to me. Not that he had any reason to. I damn sure would have appreciated it, though.

“Shit,” she whispers as she digs in her bag. “I forgot I didn’t drive my car, and I need to go. Now.”

She takes the back of her hand and wipes under her eyes, black mascara smearing with it.

I pull my keys out of my pocket, dangling them on my finger. “I’ll take you wherever you need to go.”

She looks up at me apprehensively before looking back towards the church. “I don’t know. I just can’t stay here.”

“Alright. My truck is this way.”
We walk over to my truck and she hops in as I turn the ignition. “Where am I taking you?” I ask.

She laughs bitterly. “I don’t know. I don’t have my apartment keys, so I’ve got nowhere to go.”

“Not true,” I reply as I pull my truck out onto the road.
“You can go to my house.”

She looks defeated, worn down, and absolutely heartbroken as she looks up at me. “This isn’t some ploy to try to get me to sleep with you, is it? Because that isn’t happening.”

She looks like her world is crumbling, but she still finds a way to let her dry sense of humor sneak through. “No. I would never take advantage of anyone when they’re down.”

She looks at me with appreciation. “Thank you.”

She’s been in a catatonic state for hours just holding on to a tiny picture.

I don’t know what to do. Stetson and Lizzie have both called and tried coming over to check on her, but I told them I had it. It’s the night of their wedding, they’re not coming to check on Charlie.

Not when I can take care of her. I hope.

I fix the fourth glass of cold ice water and bring it into the living room, hoping she’ll actually accept this one. She is curled up on the couch, her head barely peeping out from above the blanket as she stares off at the lit fireplace.

“Water?” I ask. “I also brought you some Advil. I’m sure you have a headache.”

She blinks a few times and looks up at me through her tear soaked eyes. She takes the water. “Could you get me my clutch?” she asks, pointing to the tiny bag on the coffee table.

I grab it and hand it to her. She quickly rustles through and pulls out a pill bottle, opening it and taking one out. “I get awful migraines. It’s prescribed. Promise.” Her voice is so soft and broken.

I hold my hands up. “I didn’t say a thing.”

Sitting up, she throws the blanket off of her. She brings her knees up to meet her chin, smoothing the fabric of her dress down her legs. She looks up at me, staring blankly for a beat, she says, “Sorry.”

I sit down on the other end of the couch, my gaze never leaving hers. “Sorry for what?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “For going off the deep end. I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting it to affect me so much,” she admits. Her eyes cast down, like she’s ashamed, embarrassed maybe. But she has nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about.

“I get it,” I tell her. “Is Phoenix your son?” She cuts her eyes towards me and nods ever-so-slightly. “He looks just like you.”

“Looked,” she corrects me. Her face flashes with so many different emotions that I can’t decipher them.

“Why talk about him in past tense?”

She stares at me angrily. “Past tense? Because he’s dead. Gone. Buried.” She looks down at her fiddling hands. “And I don’t even remember,” she whispers, barely loud enough for me to hear.

Remember?

“What do you mean, you don’t remember?”

She laughs bitterly as tears start to stream down her face. “This scar,” she runs her fingers over the raised skin on her cheek, “I got it the night we got in the accident. October fifteenth was two years ago. The only memories I have are from the past two years. Absolutely nothing before. Doctors call it retrograde amnesia. Fancy name for such a shitty problem.” She pauses for a few seconds, wiping her tears, before looking back at me. “I ache, I hurt, I die inside everyday over a little boy I don’t even remember. A little boy whom I birthed. I know, because I have pictures and a C-section scar to prove it. I know, because even though my mind doesn’t remember him, the pain and hollowness in my soul is more real than anything you could ever fathom. The mind might forget, but the heart never does.”

It hits me like a ton of bricks. The night we first met. The night I was so consumed with my own grief over losing Claire, a child that is still alive, and pissed with having to live with only the memory of her, she was mourning the anniversary of her son’s death. A son she doesn’t even know.

I am a huge asshole.

“Charlie…”

She holds up her hand. “Don’t, okay? Don’t say you’re sorry. Everybody says sorry, and all it does is pour salt into my already gaping wounds.” She hangs her head in defeat and her tangled hair falls in her face.

“I wasn’t going to say I’m sorry.”

“What?” she asks, never picking her head up.

“I wasn’t going to say I’m sorry,” I repeat. “I was going to say that really sucks, and I wish I knew what I could do to make it better, but I can’t. But I am really sorry for being a self-absorbed asshole the night at the bar. I thought my problems were insurmountable. I thought nothing could get worse, so I went to the bar to drink my sorrows away. I stole your shots, but in my defense, I did pay for them, plus the rest of your fifty-dollar tab. So if you think about it, you really owe me fifty dollars. I’m not counting though, because you’re hurting and I’m a self-absorbed asshole. That’s all I’m sorry about, though.