Alana
April thirtieth
I WATCH THE shiny, sleek, maple coffin lower to the ground, next to Cole’s grave site. My scalp prickles as fresh warm tears leak down my cheeks.
“Please, don’t leave me,” I whisper between each sob. His grandma, Annie, holds my hand as she stands there leaning on her cane.
“You were good to my grandson.” Tears run down her wrinkled face. “Thank you.”
Gunner, Crystal, Ron, and my mom wrap their arms around me as I weep. I knew this day was coming, but you don’t know what someone truly means until they’re gone. There is no possible way I could have prepare for this type of heartache. I’m drowning in my own tears and having a hard time breathing. Harsh reality smacks me in the face, he’s gone. How do you say goodbye when your heart doesn’t want to say it? The ache in my chest is too unbearable. People pat me on the back and speak to me, but I tune them out.
Several hours later, I’m staring at the carved gray tombstone, and I’m by myself. I pull my jacket closer to my body, my black heels buried in the muddy ground. I kiss my fingers and rub the tombstone.
“Goodbye, Charles,” I say.
My heels click on the wet asphalt as I walk to my car. Darien leans against my car. A custom-made black suit hugs his biceps. It should be a sin for him to be this hot. He has a beard like a caveman—it’s cute though. My heart swells and nearly leaps in my chest and those butterflies are back. I miss him so much. It’s been three months since we had a conversation. Three months since we made love. Three months without his warmth.
“What are you doing here?” I tilt my chin to look at him. I want to touch him, want him to wipe the tears from my face and have me once again. I long for his touch and the warmth of his body.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” He pulls out a joint, dragging it to the corner of his mouth and lighting it. The familiar smell of weed hits my nostrils.
“Are you really, Darien?”
“Yeah, I don’t like to see my girl hurt.” He pulls me into a tight hug, and I try not to get tears on his shoulder.
“You broke my heart, Darien.
“I know. I want to make it up to you.”
I shake my head. “It’s too late. You should have thought about that before you took the decision away from me.”
“Alana, let me be there for you.”
“No.”
“Let me ask you a question.”
I stop in my tracks. “What?”
“Would you have chosen him over me?”
He wants to ask me that now, after I buried Charles?
“No. I never was gonna choose him. It was always you, Darien.” Still is. But I don’t say it.
I get into my car and put my Range Rover in drive, pulling off onto the asphalt. I watch him in the rearview as he gets smaller and smaller.
I listen to Charles’ favorite song, Crow and Butterfly by Shinedown, as I pack up his golf clubs. Never thought I’d say this, but I feel at peace. Feel like a burden has been lifted off my shoulders and I got to be with him in the last part of his life, and I’m thankful that he didn’t die without me saying goodbye.
I throw dishes and plates and the rest of the kitchenware into brown boxes. Crystal pours a glass of wine and slides it across the counter to me, and I gulp it down and set it back down on the counter. I take the white tape and tear it with my teeth and place it on the box and put it by the front door. Ariel is in her bassinet, and she starts screaming, so Crystal picks her up and snuggles with her. She had her two weeks ago.
I go to my son’s room, pack his stuff and place it by the door. I plan to give their clothes to Goodwill and leave the house to his grandma. I pack up the scrapbooks and pictures and place them in the trunk. As soon as we are finished, I drive to my lonely apartment. I never lived out on my own. It feels new not having someone to come home to, but it’s peaceful. I can take the time to learn more about myself. As I make my way to my door, Darien leans against it.
“What do you want?” I say.
“You.”
“Not good enough.” I take my key from my purse and stick it in the hole.
“Please.”
“Darien, you don’t get to tell me when you want to deal with me. Or when we get to be together. Everything has to be on your terms. And if that’s what our relationship consists of, then I don’t want it.” I turn the knob on the door. “Now if you would excuse me, I would like to grieve alone!” I slam the door in his face.
“Do you understand the math problem?” Tate asks me. We both sit at the dining room table, staring at my laptop screen. I invited him over because I remember a while back he told me that he volunteers to tutor undergraduates at NYU. I am struggling with college algebra, and he is good at math. So I decided to reach back out to him. We haven’t spoken since we hung out at the museum and he graduated back in December. Now he’s working for a firm as a corporate attorney.
“I think I do. Don’t understand why I would take that class online in the first place.” I shake my head.
He chuckles and says, “You’re brave.”
I grab a strand of my hair and begin to play with the ends. There is an awkward silence.
“I’m sorry about your ex-husband.”
As soon as Charles died, friends and family flooded my timeline on Facebook with their condolences. It got so annoying that I deleted the app from my phone.
“I’m fine. Are you seeing anyone?”
“Yeah, but it’s not serious. Casual dating. What about you?” he asks.
There is a loud banging on the front door, so I stand up from the dining table and pad to the door. I look through the peephole, and my heart beats fast as I see Darien. What the hell does he want?
“Alana, open up the door. I can hear you.”
I shift on my feet as my eyes burn with tears. God, I missed him so much. It’s been two weeks since I saw him. The one thing I hate about love is that the feeling doesn’t go away. And right now it’s flooding my chest, suffocating me.
He pounds on the door again and says, “Sweetheart, please.” His plea pierces my heart. I exhale as I turn the lock on the door and open it. We stand there, looking at each other for a minute too long.
“What, Darien?” My voice is barely a whisper.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, so fucking sorry.”
Tate comes to the living room, and he looks between the both of us. “Is everything all right, Alana?” Tate asks.
“Why the fuck are you here?” Darien’s jaw twitches and a vein pops in his forehead.
“Darien, you need to leave.” My voice is firm.
“We need to talk alone,” he says.
“Fine.” I turn towards Tate. “I’ll be back in a second.” I follow Darien into the hallway and lean against the door. “You have five minutes. What is it?” I say, folding my arms across my chest.
“Why the fuck is Tate here?”
“Four minutes, Darien Casey.”
“I made a huge mistake in breaking up with you. I was scared, Alana, that you would choose Charles over me.” His chest rises and fall as he speaks.
“That’s your fault. You should’ve had more faith in me. You should have known my heart belongs to you, but instead, you took away that opportunity for me to choose,” I say, holding back the tears. “I would never have chosen Charles over you. Charles hurt me beyond repair, and even if he lived through his illnesss, I would have told him no.” I wrap my arms around myself. “You put me in the category of your mom and Mia, and you know how bad that hurt my feelings. To know that you don’t have faith in me.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Please take me back.”
“No, Darien. I tried, and you broke my heart,” I whisper. “So please just go away.”
Darien’s eyes glisten with tears, but they don’t fall.
“Goodbye, Darien,” I say, slamming the door in his face. Exhaling, I flop on the couch next to Tate.
“You want to talk about it?” He pulls me into a bear hug.
“No.”