Prologue
Geoffrey
“I’m not ready for you to go,” I whisper against our hands. Her hand rests cold and limp in mine, her body unmoving. Charlotte hasn’t responded to my touch since yesterday afternoon. “I don’t think I can say goodbye.”
Not a word. Just the harsh sounds of her lungs begging for air.
I thought we’d have our whole lives together. Turns out fate had other plans.
All I want is another five minutes. That isn’t asking for too much, is it? To hear her voice one last time. Catch one final glimpse of her sparkling green irises. Tell her I love you and that I will never forget her.
I could never forget her.
The fluorescent light above her bed hums, the only light illuminating the room flickering as often as my heart skips. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and concentrate on matching my rhythm to the one on Charlotte’s monitor.
Tha-thump. Tha-thump. Tha-thump.
Over the last week, I have memorized the rhythm of her heart. Although the sound is mechanical, hearing that constant beat has kept me alive as well. I lay my head beside our hands, my eyes heavy. I haven’t slept in days, wanting to be alert if Charlotte wakes.
Just as I’m drifting off, a blaring alarm fills the room. On the monitor, her vitals scream and my heart stops. I forget how to breathe.
A flat, red line scrolls across the screen, a red zero flashing beside it.
No. Please don’t let this be happening. “I need help in here!”
Within seconds, nurses and doctors flood the room. A bulky machine is wheeled in behind them. A chill spreads from head to toe and I freeze next to Charlotte.
“Sweetie, you need to step aside. Let the doctors help her.” But it takes me too long to absorb the command before the kindly nurse is shoving me out of the way.
The calm quiet from ten minutes ago is gone. Organized chaos takes its place.
The oxygen tube is yanked from Charlotte’s nose and replaced with a silicone mask attached to an air pump in the nurse’s hand. She squeezes the bulbous bag, forcing oxygen into her lungs.
Each time Charlotte’s chest rises and falls, my heart beats more sluggishly, my palms damp and clammy. The monitor continues screaming in the background, one of the doctors watching the flat line while performing chest compressions, asking one of the nurses to silence the alarm.
After a minute, the doctor removes her hands and my chest hollows out. Has she given up? So soon?
My questions are answered when a nurse takes a pair of surgical scissors to the front of Charlotte’s gown, cutting the flimsy material down her midline and exposing her torso. As soon as the frigid hospital air hits her bare chest, the doctor slaps two large adhesive pads into place. Gooseflesh prickles my limbs and my body convulses.
In the few seconds needed to charge the defibrillator, I age eighty years.
“Clear!” the doctor bellows.
Every person aiding in her care raises their hands, taking a half step from the bed. The doctor presses a button, and I suck in a breath as Charlotte’s body jolts upward from the sterile sheets of the hospital bed. Every pair of eyes is glued to the monitor, mine included, waiting for a response.
If there is a god in the universe, please don’t let this happen to Charlotte. I beg you.
The flat line on the monitor is unchanged. I pinch my eyes tight and repeat my previous prayer.
“Charging…” a nurse says, her calm demeanor shredding my sanity.
The nurse with the air resuscitation bag returns the silicone triangle to Charlotte’s face, pumping the bag to a rhythm in her head, a steady flow of oxygen pouring into Charlotte’s incapable lungs. I shuffle to my left, stepping out of the path of the hospital staff to get a better vantage point of Charlotte’s pale body.
“Clear!”
Charlotte’s body bows off the bed again, and her hollowness resonates in my chest. The voltage does nothing to restart her heart, the muted heart monitor remains unchanged. The nurse at the head of the bed forces more oxygen into her chest before the defibrillator fully recharges for another round.
“Clear!”
Everyone steps back, the image of the room blurring behind the haze of tears filling my eyes. Come on, Charlotte. Fight! For you. For us. Fight!
The pounding of footsteps and tear-filled screams enter the room, Charlotte’s mother running to my side. Sobs wrack her frame as she squeezes my hand tight. I want to console her, but then who will do that for me?
Another charge from the defibrillator pierces Charlotte’s flesh and runs to her heart.
But there’s nothing.
After multiple attempts to resuscitate her, the team pauses, exchanging glances, an unspoken agreement passing through the room. Removing the adhesive pads from her chest and setting them on the cart, a doctor closes the front of Charlotte’s gown, looks up at the clock over the doorframe and calls out the official time of death.
Charlotte’s mom falls to the floor beside me, clutching her stomach and dropping her head to the sterile, bleach-scented linoleum. Her loud cries echo out of the room and fill the entire floor of the hospital.
My feet have turned to stone—heavy and incapable of moving. My chest is a forest fire, the burn spreading from my heart into my lungs. My vision fogs, the room disappearing.
My world has stopped moving. Life transitions from living to existing.
Because I don’t want this life if she isn’t a part of it. It will always be her. Only her.
As my vision clears, my mind slips into a newfound numbness. One that feels as silent and permanent as the heart monitor’s flat red line.
One
Magdalena
“What are you doing here, Mags?” Lessa shrieks, coming around the corner and yanking me into a tight hug.
“I thought I’d be adventurous this morning. Plus, I love seeing you,” I manage to say as she wrings my torso like a wet cloth. Her hugs are the best. But sometimes she can hug the life right out of a person.
When she realizes I’m having trouble breathing, Lessa steps back and releases me from her grip. “Sorry. It’s just so nice to see you outside of dinners at your house. Did you want to order something?”
She steps back behind the counter and stands opposite me, poised and ready to take my order.
“Yes, please. Can I have a hot green tea and a blueberry bagel, whipped and excited,” I laugh as I place the order, my cheeks heating.
Lessa is the proud owner of Java and Teas Me, an eclectic coffee and tea café in our small town of Lake Lavender—named for the lavender fields near the town’s only waterfront—a hidden gem less than an hour from Olympia. When she proposed the idea of opening the shop to me and Lena, the other part of our trifecta, I almost spit my drink across her business plan.
All of the food on the menu at Java and Teas Me has an eccentric name. The bagel I just ordered… “whipped and excited” means with whipped cream cheese and a dash of cinnamon sugar.
Lessa gives me a wicked grin, knowing how reserved I am. “You got it. Do you want it for here or to go?”
“Here, please. I still need a little me time before I start my day.”
Her smile is wide and could make any person’s day better. It’s one of the many things I love about her. One of the things I envy her.
“Cool. Have a seat wherever and I’ll bring it out in a sec.”
I weave my way through the throng of tables, passing a handful of college students with earbuds in place and eyes fixated to their laptop screens. Selecting a table on the semi-closed patio, I have a perfect view of the morning sunrise and the sidewalks of Main Street.
Summer mornings are my favorite and the most beautiful. The air is crisp with a slight chill as the scent of piney evergreens float in the breeze and dawn breaks over the mountains and tree lines. The sky is painted in a spectacular array of pinks and oranges, allowing the cyan of the day to make its morning debut.
The sunrise today is a little pinker than yesterday as I relax in the plush padded wicker chair. I take a deep breath and get lost in my own personal wonderland. A moment later, my tea and bagel are delivered.
“If you’ll be here for a bit, I’ll come back and chat, but business is starting to pick up,” Lessa tells me, regret highlighting her features when she eyes the growing line.
“No worries. We’ll catch up later. Love you.”
“Love you, too, Mags.”
I pick up my mug, cradling it between my palms, and blow on the surface of the steamy beverage. As I settle into the chair, my gaze falls over the women and men strolling down the wide sidewalk. Some peering into storefronts, others grabbing a quick bite or drink before heading to work. Laughter, smiles, and joy highlighting each of their days. The sight sparks envy in my chest.
Today I took a leap. It was time to step outside the four walls of my home for something other than groceries or necessities. It was time to start living again. Time to start breathing after years of routine and care-giving.
I tear off a piece of my bagel and pop it in my mouth, giggling to myself. “I’m finally growing up,” I whisper to no one. A rush courses through my veins. It’s both invigorating and terrifying.
I can do this. My new motto.
Lessa falls into the chair across from me, my hand slapping against my chest as I gasp.
“You scared the shit out of me.”
“Sorry,” she tells me, blowing her hair out of her eyes.
“It’s great out here. I think I may come here more often.” For a moment, I contemplate reaching across the table and closing Lessa’s dropped jaw. But I give her a moment to digest what I told her. I’m sure it surprised her as much as it did me.
“I’m sorry, did I just hear you say you plan to come here more often?” she asks, her eyes pinching as she cocks her head.
“You heard correct. I must’ve had an enlightening dream last night. I think it’s time I try to find myself again. Don’t you agree?”
The legs of her chair scrape against the brick below as she pushes up and barrels toward me. Within a beat, I am wrapped in Lessa’s arms again, happy I inhaled beforehand. I give her to the count of three and then pat her back, a silent signal to release me from her clutches.
Another ten seconds pass. Another ten seconds that I’m deprived of the ability to breathe. I love the bonding moment, but my lips may be turning a little blue.
“Can’t breathe.”
In an instant, she releases me. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. I’m just so excited about this. Excited for you!”
At least one of us is excited. Me? I’m a bit queasy and am glad I only ordered a bagel. “Thanks, Lessa. I think it’s been a long time coming, but the eureka moment only struck today. Will you help me?”
Her lips form the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen as she takes my hand in hers. “You know I will. Lena and I are here for anything you need. You know that.”
Giving her hand a gentle squeeze, I reply, “I know you are. I could not have asked for two better people in my life.” I pause a moment, drawing in a breath. “This is going to sound stupid, but… I don’t know how to be different. How do I act normal?”
She takes my hand in both of hers, cradling it with the gentle nature a mother would a child. “Just be yourself. We’ll figure the rest out as we go.”
“Just be myself. I can do that,” I affirm. “I’ve been putting more time into packing up Dad’s stuff. It’s sad, but cathartic. And I think it’s helping me move on a little more each day.”
“You know Lena and I will help you in a heartbeat. Just say the word.”
I crumple my napkin into a ball. “Yeah, I know. But I think boxing everything is helping me transition from mourning to living. I’m only keeping a few mementos from him and Mom. The rest is being donated.”
A soft glow lights Lessa’s face. “Well, keep us in mind.”
I nod before she sweeps me into another hug. It has been challenging to sift through my parents’ belongings. Every time I pick up a shirt my dad wore, I’d press it to my nose and inhale his woodsy scent. The thought of never smelling it again swelled my throat and pricked my eyes. Mom’s perfume faded from her clothes several years ago, but I kept a bottle of the rosy scent for the days when I miss her most.
“Have you considered getting a job? After you take care of everything, of course,” Lessa suggests.
Work had crossed my mind. It would be a huge leap in the right direction. “Yeah, but is it weird that I’m not sure where to begin?”
Her eyes widen as if a lightbulb has gone off in her head. “Why don’t you put your degree to some use? You worked your butt off to earn it.”
That’s an idea worth pondering. And, for the first time in years, a rush has my pulse soaring. “Maybe I’ll go talk with Beatrice when I leave here. I’m sure she can guide me in the right direction.”
“Yay!” Lessa claps before squeezing me close again, this one brief when she notices the line at the counter growing.
Not wanting to monopolize her time, I shoo her away. After she steps behind the counter and resumes business owner mode, I send her a quick message.
Magdalena: Thanks for everything. Have a great day! See you at dinner tomorrow.
After tapping send, I stash my phone in my purse. She’ll respond to me later, once business has slowed down. Grabbing my mug and plate, I head over to the bin and place the dishes in the gray tub.
Just be yourself. We’ll figure out the rest out as we go.
As I head for my car, Lessa’s affirmation repeats in my thoughts.
Just be myself. I can do this.
***
One Month Later
The parking lot of Black Silk is bustling. I’d never been here any night except Friday, but I’m sure there was never a slow night. Just as I spot a parking space, I notice Lessa and Lena walking inside, glad they wouldn’t be waiting long for my arrival.
We’d started coming to Black Silk two weeks ago—as a celebration for my new job—after Lena overheard a customer raving about it. Within thirty minutes, Lena had found every scrap of information on the internet about the place. Our group text thread blew up as she sent screenshot after screenshot of reviews, telling us the pictures looked amazing. After one visit, we loved it so much it’s now a weekly occurrence.
Black Silk was an upscale restaurant but also had an adjoining nightclub upstairs. In the time since we’d been dining here, none of us had climbed the stairs to the second floor. Often, I wondered if the nightclub was worthy of our time—you could never hear a sound from the dining area below.
A short time ago, I may have decided to step out into the world a little more, but I know I wouldn’t be the one to initiate the ascension of that staircase.
I walk along the small pathway between the lot and the restaurant, a man stands at a set of tall oak doors and opens them as I approach. Black iron connects the doors to the frame, giving them a medieval vibe. I step inside and thank the man as I pass.
Stepping past the hostess station, I weave my way toward my friends.
The restaurant is both eclectic and elegant.
Charcoal black walls are decorated in an array of black-and-white photographs, sketches, and paintings. Along the ceiling, striking oak beams spanned from one end of the restaurant to the other, the wood stained a medium gray.
Classy, antique lighting hung four feet above each table, adding a soft, dim ambiance to each place setting. The oak tables—matching the sturdy beams above—adorned with pale, stone gray tablecloths and a small candlelit, floral centerpiece.
Adding to their namesake, each person’s silverware rested on a black, silk-like napkin.
Lessa and Lena spot me before I reach the table, their hands gesturing a wave in my direction. My chest warms at their enthusiasm to see me and I can’t stop the smile that pains my cheeks.
Before I’m able to take my seat, Lena’s eyes run up and down my body, giving me a once-over. Her visual assessment has me cringing internally, my smile fading as I fight to not wrap my arms tight around the center of my body.
“Hey, girl. You’re looking beautiful, as always. Actually, I’d like to amend that statement. You look hot tonight.”
Lena, my dear, sweet friend, has a keen eye for fashion. Her business depends on it. But I wasn’t so sure about her opinion of me right now.Hot was never a word I associated with my appearance, even when I was dressed or dolled up.
And I was neither at the current moment.
Heat stains my cheeks, the fever spreading slow over my chest as I sit in my chair.
“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” I mumble. “I just reached in the closet and grabbed whatever.”
She lets out a low huff, a huff I’ve heard on more than one occasion. “Seriously? You have to know how stunning you look right now. Low cut, black top accentuating your perfect bust. White jeans hugging those amazing legs, which I’d kill for, by the way. Finish it off with the black heels.” She pauses and shakes her head. “You know how much I envy you, right? And your hair… it always looks perfect.” She cocks her head to the side, then says, “Do you have a date later?”
I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes. Her assessment and inquisition have me taken aback.
First, she knew I never saw myself as she saw me. Second, she knew I didn’t date.
Anyone.
Ever.
At least not since my dad’s stroke.
Taking compliments has never been a strength. In fact, compliments are a cloak of awkwardness. They make my stomach twist and knot like a pretzel. A sudden obligation overwhelms me and I feel the need to compliment her in return. Something I’m not prepared for, my brain to mouth filter temporarily out of service.
So, I say the first thing that comes to mind.
“Just a date with the two most amazing women I know.” My cheeks heat anew as I mutter, “Thanks for thinking I look hot. But you know I beg to differ.”
If someone compared shades of red to my cheeks right now, I’d vote mine were similar to strawberries or hand-picked cherries. I couldn’t see myself, but I could feel the sweltering heat of embarrassment as it spread across my flesh.
I take a minute to look down at my attire, confused at what makes something so simple look so alluring. It’s a shirt and a pair of jeans, for crying out loud.
“I don’t think anything. I know it. Please take a compliment without doubting it, just this once,” Lena cajoles, her matter-of-fact tone meant to settle any further negations.
Accepting compliments is a weakness I’ve had for years, but a part of me I will continue to work on.
The waiter approaches the table, poised and ready to take our orders. Looking to Lessa and Lena, I subliminally ask for one of them to start. Lessa reads me like a book and speaks up.
Once we’ve all ordered, he turns on his heel and walks off.
As soon as he’s gone, I’m prepared for the lecture. It’s been the same speech every Friday. Without fail.
Lessa works hard at throwing me her best stink eye, all while trying not to laugh. “Still just water, huh? I thought you were going to live a little, weren’t you?”
The first question, I expected. It was as ritualistic as my life.
The second question, on the other hand, hits me like a strike to the gut. It knocks the wind out of me and I’m uncertain how I should respond.
They knew why I didn’t drink alcohol when we went out. It went without question.
And tonight would be no exception.
Unbeknownst to me, tonight’s version of nagging sat heavier on my shoulders. Even though she was teasing me, the words were loaded with something more I couldn’t see or grasp. Resonating in a different place in my chest, a piercing ache beneath my sternum.
The sudden urge to defend myself grew strong. “You know why I don’t drink. Not since Mom died. The occasional teasing is getting old. Plus, I don’t need alcohol to have a good time.” For added effect—and to lighten the mood—I stuck my tongue out at both of them.
“Mags, all we want is for you to relax and enjoy the evening,” Lena chimes in.
I could sense the pang of guilt she bore and I didn’t want either of them to have that burden.
“Yes, I know. And I love you both for always wanting me to enjoy myself. But I promise, hanging out with the two of you is all I need.”
Truer words could not have been said.
Lessa and Lena were better than any other remedy I’d received after each of my parents passed away. Our bond was this invisible life force, an impenetrable bubble no one could pierce.
“I hope that’s true because we’re headed upstairs tonight,” Lessa declares, her face lighting up as if she’d won the lottery. “I’ve been dying to check out the nightclub since we started coming here.”
The excitement of what secrets awaited her up the stairwell made her bouncy. It was adorable and infectious and made my stomach flip.
The waiter returns with our drinks and I sip the cool liquid, my nerves calming a smidge.
“So, Mags, it’s perfect timing that you wanted to live a little more. I’m excited to check out the club after dinner. I know nothing about the vibe, but I overheard one of my employees say it was amazing.” Lessa beams, her excitement tangible.
I don’t think I have seen her quite so giddy in a while. The more she speaks, the higher her volume escalates.
It is no secret she and Lena tried to get me out of the house more often. Always attempting to break me out of my homebody status. And they both agreed my shifts at Statice didn’t count toward getting out there.
I may have stated I wanted to expand my horizons, but there’s nothing wrong with enjoying my own company. As the old saying goes… If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.
All I needed was a little tweak.
“What did your employee say?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.
“She wasn’t forthcoming with the details. She said everyone should experience it without bias, and to go in open-minded,” she explains before adding, “I think it sounds mysterious and exciting. Am I right?”
I force an uneasy smile, not wanting to put a damper on her good mood. In Lessa’s eyes, dinner couldn’t finish fast enough. She bounced in her chair like a child begging for the coolest new toy.
Me, on the other hand… I continue to wipe my sweaty palms over my thighs, praying dinner will take hours.
Why would her employee be evasive? It’s a nightclub, not the plotline to a movie.
“Doesn’t it seem strange they didn’t tell you anything about the place?” I question, my voice cracking a little.
Lessa glances at me, and for a moment I see a tinge of pity in her eyes. Pity was something I had become all too familiar with over the years. She shoves it aside quick before answering me. “I’m not sure. I suppose some things in life should be experienced firsthand.”
Her comment wasn’t meant to be harsh, but I could sense the simplicity her words meant to deliver. Both of them made life appear effortless. If only I could have a fraction of that ease. To walk down Main Street with confidence in my step. To talk to strangers without my heart racing in my chest or my limbs trembling. To have some semblance of normalcy.
What I wouldn’t give for an ounce of their strength and courage.
Lena cajoles me—her best pouty lips and puppy dog eyes on display. “Come on, Mags. Let loose a little with us tonight. It’ll be good for you. I promise. You know we’d never let anything happen to you.”
They were doing what they thought best for me. Trying to help me tear down the wall I’d built around myself years ago. Helping me to grow again, in a different way than our youth. Bringing out the beauty they saw in me, allowing it to blossom. To discover the newer version of myself.
I want to be free from my past. More than anything.
But fear floods my veins. No matter how brave I want to be, it still holds me captive. A vicious cycle of freedom and restriction.
I trust Lessa and Lena with my life. They would never put me in harm’s way. I wish they knew how to extinguish the anxiety pinning me down. To vanquish the uneasiness holding me back from the world.
How does one overcome fear?
How can I escape and discover everything I have been missing?
How do I open myself up to new possibilities?
Introspective for a few minutes, Lessa and Lena continue a quiet conversation between themselves, allowing me time to think. My quiet tendencies have never been odd to them, not since Mom died.
My fingers fidget with the silverware on my napkin while my thoughts wage war inside my head. It would be great to do something fun with them, for a change.
It had been so long since fun had been a word in my vocabulary. I miss fun.
Plus, their judgment had never been something I questioned or doubted.
Taking a deep breath, I speak with hesitancy, “Okay, I’m in for going upstairs.” As I say the words, butterflies flutter with intensity in my belly. Deep breath in, deep breath out. I can do this.
Lessa shrieks, and it surprises me the whole restaurant didn’t turn to shush her. “Yes! We’re going to have the best time up there. I can feel it in my bones.”
Although I couldn’t match her exuberance, I express myself the only way I know how. With loads of awkwardness. I raise my glass and smile. “Here’s to being myself, living outside the box, and diving in headfirst.”
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