Where I Found My Heart (2 page)

Chapter 3

I opened the door of the fridge and noticed with a deep heavy sigh it was time. I don’t wear a watch. I don't look at clocks. I eat when I have to, and drink when I’m thirsty. But the cabinets were empty and the fridge was worse. There was half an apple that had turned brown and shriveled. A jar of sauce, half full, a Ziploc bag with pasta that had grown green spots, and a four bottles of water. On the door was a bottle of wine that was almost empty, it’s cork pushed in lopsided.

I gave up alcohol, because it required going out in public to buy more. But I welcomed the numbness it brought me. It even came close one time to giving me the bravado required to do what I needed to do. I don’t remember what, but something stopped me. I think it was that elusive smile. Stupid alcohol.

I had set one task for myself these days and unfortunately, that time was now. So I resolved to get it over and done with. I shut the door and walked back in the bedroom. Pulled a sweatshirt from the closet and grabbed the jeans I had thrown over the chair, I don’t remember when, and dumped them in the middle of the unmade bed.

I pushed myself to get into the shower, cleaned, dried and dressed. All the while I kept repeating ‘after you get this over with you won’t have to go out again for another four weeks’ like some twisted mantra.

That was how perfect I got it down. I knew how much to buy to keep myself going so I didn’t have to go out again for another four weeks. I tugged my jacket on and pulled a hat over my unruly hair before making my way out the door. I took the elevator down to the garage level and walked over to where I had parked my car a mere four weeks ago. How the time flies when you dread going out.

I opened the door and slipped in behind the wheel, but not before wrinkling my nose at the smell of urine. From what I could remember it was stronger than the last time I ventured out. Dylan would have made a complaint, telling the building supervisor they needed to keep the garage clean and empty of stragglers. He used that word a lot. Stragglers.

I sat looking around me like it was the first time I’d been in this car. It always took me a good five minutes to get reacquainted with driving. I double-checked that I had my credit card and license, both in my cardholder, and after confirming I did, I put the key in the ignition. The loud sound of the engine starting never failed to give me a jolt. I counted to ten slowly in my head before slipping the car into drive and exiting.

I tried to avoid looking at the people walking about. They seemed so alien now. Like they were from another place and time, where I once existed as a young girl who used to smile. I wasted no time letting those happy memories fade. I drove almost an hour out of town to avoid running into anyone I might know or who might know me.

The hell with their misguided pity.

I preferred anonymity.

As I pulled into the parking lot of a random Stop and Shop I could feel my hands tremble. A thin coating of sweat covered my scalp. I was petrified, angry, and sad. I didn’t want to do this. But I climbed out of my car, hung my head down and I slowly walked into the store.

I kept my eyes averted, not wanting to see the weak smiles or pitiful glances I seemed to get from the other shoppers. It was as if I wore a sign that said ‘sad, depressed and misplaced’. All I wanted was to bag my groceries, pay and leave.

I placed several items in my cart before leaving the pasta isle and turning into the canned goods isle.

“Excuse me.”

I heard the words but walked a little faster. I didn’t know if they were directed at me or not and I didn’t care. I kept my head down and walked.

“Miss.”

My fingers tightened around the already sweaty bar of the cart, and was gripped with fear. I turned my head slightly to find a man, tall with a broad build, no older than thirty standing behind me. In his hand was my cardholder.

“I think you dropped this.” He said before looking down at the cards. “In fact, I know you dropped it.” Then he took another look between me and the picture on my license and I could see confusion flit across his face. I didn’t look like that picture anymore.

“This is you right?” He looked once again at my face before looking at the picture. His surprised look angered me and I walked over and pulled my cardholder from his hand.

“Thank you.” The words came out sounding more like a ‘fuck you’ than a ‘thank you’. But in my defense, I was put out by his audacity. I shoved the cardholder back in my jacket pocket and took two steps away from him before I heard the cardholder once again fall to the floor.

“Hole in my pocket.” I said sheepishly.

I quickly bent down and shoved it into the other pocket, but not before I heard him laugh softly.

I bent my head down and pushed my cart. I had three more aisles I needed to cover before leaving and I was determined to do it a fast as I could while avoiding the man with the jolting blue eyes who was still laughing at my expense. And now to top it off, he seemed to follow me. Although I’m sure he was also trying to get through the last few aisles himself.

I was so relieved when I finally pulled the cart up alongside the trunk of my Ford and I got my bags into the car encountering no one else.

Once I got home and put away all the groceries, I climbed out of my jeans tossing them back over the same chair I’d found them on and pulled up a pair of flannel pajama pants. I made my way back into the kitchen to cook one of the frozen meals I’d bought, shoved it in the microwave, and took it with me into the living room where I turned on the television. My jacket was tossed on the couch where I’d left it. I slid over and took the cardholder out of my pocket.

“Who are you?” The woman’s face staring back was a happy face.

I was still smarting from the man’s laughter, but after examining the picture on my license more carefully I had to admit, I kind of understood. I no longer looked like the carefree girl I once was. I looked older now. Much older.

I dropped the cardholder on the table and folded my legs under me. Leaning back I changed the channel settling on an old western, knowing I would be safe with my selection. Westerns were full of men, doing macho things.

Chapter 4

“You need to say goodbye now Reny.” I heard a voice in my ear; minty breath fanned my cheek.

“I can’t.” I barely whispered.

He squeezed my shoulders and stepped back. I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Dylan. My fingers grazed along his cheek, his skin ice cold, lips tight and pale. “This is not my Dylan, his lips…his lips were perfect…just perfect.”

“Reny.”

“Mom don’t. Just don’t. Don’t say it. I can’t say goodbye.” I hardly recognized my wailing. “Please mom. Help me. I can’t say goodbye.” My whole body was trembling. I mean really trembling. Like you see in the movies. Only this wasn’t a goddamn movie. This was my life, and my reason for living was lying in front of me with his goddamn hands crossed over his midsection, instead of around me like they should be. I wanted to scream till the heavens crushed down on me.

I held his hand, my small fingers wrapped around his.

If I could only hold on, if I could only breathe air back into you. If I could only be with you. Help me Dylan, I’m so lost with out you.

“Reny. Please honey.” My mother’s voice cracked. I could tell she was losing it herself.

She was as lost as I was.

We all were.

I don’t know how or when, but I must have gotten up and left him there, because I now found myself in a windowless room of a restaurant. Waiters were speaking in hushed tones, taking orders for drinks and food.

Like I could eat anything.

I shook my head and heard my mother place an order for two meals. I assumed one was for me. What a waste of food, was all I could think.

I was like some freaking robot. Saying ‘thank you for being here’ to everyone who dared walk up to the ‘crazed looking’ grieving woman. Finding myself trapped in what they assumed were comforting hugs. They weren’t. However, they kept me on my feet. Without them, I probably would have slithered down to the floor like a sack. It was like an endless line of people wanting to tell me how sorry they were. ‘We’re here for you if you need us’, and ‘I’ll pray for you.’

You know what? Don’t pray for me. Please don’t fucking pray for me. I don’t want your pity. I want my life back like it was before…

I sat up in bed and for the bizillionth time since Dylan’s death, I screamed, cursed and cried until I was exhausted enough to fall back asleep…

Chapter 5

I woke up sometime later on the couch my coat pulled over my shoulders. The half-eaten frozen dish and the fork sat on the table. A new western had come on and I lay there with my eyes half open watching. I dosed off again.

That’s exactly where I found myself the next morning.

I got up threw the dish in the trash, the fork clanked as I tossed it into the stainless steel sink and I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth.

“At least I have coffee.” I said to myself, “and creamer.”

I took my cup of hot coffee into the living room and sat on the same spot I slept on last night. Flipped through a magazine I’d found in my mailbox. All the pretty faces and happy smiles made me feel like I was a failure. I tossed it on the table and picked up the remote.

“Let’s see what you have for me today.”

I went through the channels, Bridges of Madison County – um no. Twilight – yeah right. A Bridge Too Far – I can deal with that one. I leaned back and looked straight ahead, seeing men dressed in army green laying down explosives while an army marched towards them. I closed my eyes and slowly fell asleep.

“Reny. Can you hear me? You need to stay awake.”

“My baby.”

“We’re doing everything we can, you need to help us. You need to push Reny.”

“Nooooo. It’s too soon. It’s too soon.” I was breathing heavy. Getting dizzy with the effort.

“The baby’s heart rate is dropping.” The faceless man turned to the outline of a woman, “Get her to op one Stat.”

“Noooo. Please no. It’s too soon.”

I felt a rip in my body, like I was being torn in two. I screamed from the pain, and tried so hard to stay alert, but I was fading. My body gave into a tremor, shaking me to the core. My mind was traveling the speed of light—visions of faces, smiles, gentle touches—until I was lost.

“She’s convulsing, we need to stop the bleeding.”

“Her BP is dropping.”

“Reny. Hold on Reny. We need you. Your baby needs you.”

“Don’t let my baby die. Don’t…”

All I remember then is the cloud that covered me like a thick blanket, making it difficult to hear or see anything. It was like I was walking in a deep fog, lost, alone. I could feel something tugging at me, pulling me away. I wanted to go, but I knew I needed to stay. I needed to stay for my baby. He would need me. I was so cold I could feel my teeth chattering. The glare of lights over me was strong enough to pierce the cloud and my eyelids, but I still couldn’t see. I was floating now, trying to find something to hold onto.

It was noisy. Many sounds were bouncing off of the cloud. Beeping. Talking. Hushed tones. Then nothing. It went from movement to nothingness. It was completely silent. I wasn’t in any pain, but I did felt empty. Hollow. Like someone carved a big hole in my body and left it open. I could feel the coldness settle inside me, inside the big hole.

“Jeff, I can’t tell her. I can’t tell her.” Her sobs soft and steady.

I knew that voice. It was my mother.

“Rhonda, you need to stay right there.”

“Jeff.”

“Rhonda. Reny needs you.” It sounded like a command.

I tried to open my eyes but it was as if someone glued them shut.

“She’s waking up. Call the nurse.”

“No Rhonda. Don’t. She needs her family, not strangers.”

“But…”

My mother at a loss for words?

No way.

‘The woman can talk the balls off a brass monkey’ my father would always say. I smiled remembering the look on her face when he said that. Feigned indignity. That was my mothers’ real talent.

I tried hard to open my eyes.

“Jeff?”

I sat up straight and felt tears cascade down both cheeks. Sometimes, it’s best not to fall asleep. Sometimes it’s better to watch A Bridge Too Far.

Strangely I didn’t cry when my father told me the baby died. I didn’t. It’s not something I’m particularly proud of, but it happened and that’s that. I guess I was too numb to feel any more pain. Or I could be in denial, in which case, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near me when that realization hit.

“You will have to allow yourself to mourn Reny.”

My mother and her infinite wisdom
.

“I think I’ve mourned enough mom. I can’t mourn anymore. Not now.”

I saw the look that passed between my parents. The ‘she’s in a state of denial’ look. I wasn’t. There was nothing to deny. I lost the two loves of my life. Both ripped away from me leaving me feeling so empty inside; so angry and alone.

We had a small memorial, no one but us—the immediate family.

I often wondered why that was the chosen term to describe the people in your life you couldn’t escape. There was nothing immediate about them, no urgency. It was a silly description to give them distinction, some badge, some importance over everyone else.

‘There had been enough pain and heartbreak’ my father said and I agreed with him. I think I would have shot myself if I had to go through that again and he sensed it.

Thank you daddy, I love you.

The days went by, one blending into the next. I was never one if those people who were good with having guests stay with me. Oh, I’m not a hardass, I really loved it when they first got there—guests that is—but loved it even more when they packed up and left. And this was how I was feeling right now. I wanted to be alone.

My mother thought I should go home with my father and her, and as much as they both insisted, that wasn’t home anymore. Hadn’t been in some time. I couldn’t go back with them, which caused my mother undue stress. She was practically begging and after desperately trying to get me to change my mind, my father once again ended the discussion.

“She needs to heal at her own pace Rhonda. Leave her be for now.”

Again, thank you daddy.

I was adamant. I refused to leave.

This is where my life was…had been. I needed to be close to where I was happy once.

And I was so happy.

So with a tearful goodbye at the airport—my mother was a mess—I watched my parents go through security and down the corridor to the waiting area. I was dry-eyed. I actually felt sorry for my father.

I seemed to have spent all my tears. The only ones I had left came when I slept, or tried to sleep. It was odd. I was torn about the notion of sleep. On one hand, I would see us—Dylan and me—together in happy times. And on the other, I would wake to find I was still very much alone.

If you want to know the ugly truth, I totally lost my faith. What little I had to begin with. How do you love a God who takes away your reason to breathe? How do you love a God who steals the small baby you love so much growing inside your belly? It was my baby. Our baby. Dylan’s and mine. It was all I had left of him and now that was gone too. So God? Fuck that. It’s a myth. Out-and-out bullshit. I was tired of racking my brain trying to discover the reason I was damned. Bone tired.