Lost In Rewind (Audio Fools #3) (24 page)

I haven’t made up my mind if I’ll ever talk to him again, but my heart knows; it recognizes his and won’t allow us to separate, not yet. Another text from Jeff pops on my screen.

-If you only knew how confounded I am by the things I feel for you … I have no right to feel anything, but I feel so much. Please, don’t throw me out. Let me talk to you. There’s an urgency inside me that needs to tell you everything-

I’m lost in his words, in his story, and in his world, which I feel I belong in. Lost and found, I guess you could say.

Wordlessly, I wrap my arms around my waist and give my poor body a hug. There is no room for my ego or my pride today. My heart is running this spectacle. I let out a long, defeated breath. Look at me—a confused, curious fool who can’t let go of hope. How far will I go to satisfy the curiosity he ignited?

-Kali, please let me hear your voice-

His texts sound as if he may be suffering just as much as I am. I decide to type back a reply. He obviously knows I’m reading his messages, and I’m not about to start playing games
.

My fingers seamlessly type out candid words that my common sense tries but fails to block.
-I don’t know what to say to you. Every part of my body is at conflict. I want you and I don’t, I like you and I don’t, I want you to leave me alone … but I don’t. I have no idea what this is-

I wish he were here for me to see his reaction and talk this out.

-I’m sorry for making you feel that way. You’re a smart, incredible woman who only deserves respect. Please forgive me. I’ll make sure I’m clearer next time on what I mean. I had a horrible nightmare. It’s not an excuse for being a total piece of shit, but that’s the truth. I didn’t mean what I said. I only meant you have me so twisted up inside … I can’t think straight ever since I met you. I only wanted you to know how lost I am without you-

I fight back the smile his words give me, hesitantly accepting his apology. He hadn’t meant to belittle or offend me, but his words betrayed him and did so anyway, no matter how he’d meant them to come out. I ponder if his bad dream had to do with his past demons or me?

I walk out of my bedroom and head to the kitchen to make some coffee and try and put this morning train wreck behind me.

-How do you like your coffee?-
I inquire in an attempt to get us away to a safer, superficial type of conversation.

-I like it dark, sweet, with a slice of lemon-

My face twists in disgust.

Almost as if being able to see my facial expression he adds:
-Don’t knock it until you try it-

I smile at his ability to read me through texts.

-Let’s make a deal, don’t ever make me try your coffee and I’ll never make you listen to my music-

I laugh to myself. We don’t need to make any promises, I’m one hundred percent sure we’ll never see each other again. This has been too complicated, and I’m not even sure it’s healthy.

-I didn’t mean what I said to you before about not liking to listen to the sound of a violin. Any music is beautiful, especially if it means something to the person you love-

It’s clear in my mind that his words are not intended for my sake, but more so for his. I’m certain there’s a story behind his text, and maybe I will one day hear it. I look at my phone and press the call back button, because deep inside, my heart already decided that Jeff Rossi and I are not finished, and I’m convinced that the heart is always right.

“
She’s Like The Wind
” by Patrick Swayze

I
can’t run away from this or her, and I won’t let myself make a mess of things like I always do. She deserves the truth. Whether her reaction will have a shit effect on me or not, she earned the right to hear about her grandmother’s words, like I’ve promised. She has put up with my mixed signals since the day we met, and there is no way I can just leave her alone and pretend we never met. I can’t stop thinking and dreaming about her for the love of God. I fear I’ve become obsessed with her.

I walk to the kitchen to make myself coffee. I look down at my phone, clutched tight in my hand; this is my subconscious attempt to hold onto her. I wait for a reply as if I wait for my sentence to be read by the judge. I busy myself with my coffee while I sit at the kitchen counter and continue to wait. I look around the grand opulent space I call home and realize it has become increasingly cold without my wife. I think about Kali’s cozy little apartment and recall how warm and familiar it felt. I’ve done this already. I’ve carved out an imaginary world with a girl to escape my harsh reality, and here I am once again. Until Kali knows everything about Sara Klein and me, she won’t know anything.

I see a text come through asking me how I take my coffee. I look at my dark coffee and can’t help but smile at her line of questioning. I playfully type back my response, tempted to send her a picture of the slice of lemon floating in my black coffee as I long to hear her voice and kiss the sadness my callous words have caused.

My phone begins to ring and her perfect face fills the screen as if God heard my plea. If her just calling can have this kind of effect, I can only imagine what her voice will have the power to do to me.

“Thank you, thank you for giving me another chance,” is the first thing I say as I clutch the phone to my ear, beyond thankful for the opportunity to still speak to her. She’s silent—all I hear is the sound of my own heartbeat.

She clears her throat and softly adds, “No worries, Jeff. This shouldn’t be personal.” Her voice cracks—along with my heart—when she says my name. “I want to hear more about you and Jacky. I still can’t understand why you said there were two sides to your story. Did you remarry someone else?” Kali fires off questions, which I can’t yet answer. I ought to calm her concerns, but I need to tell this tale my way. I halfheartedly continue with the story of my life.

“No, I was only married once. Jacky and I moved to the city right after we got married. It was a small ceremony for our closest friends and family. We couldn’t even go on a real honeymoon due to all her scheduled treatments, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to give her the fairy tale like a stupid delusional kid. Her parents moved us into a multi million-dollar townhouse on the Upper East Side,” I say as I look around my home. “I had it made. I was surrounded by everything I loved. I was even within walking distance to my best friend—Eddie—and his family. I began working for my father-in-law’s firm. If I closed my eyes, it almost felt perfect, like everything would be okay.

“Her parents did everything to make our lives more bearable—they hired a chef to cook special foods to keep her strong, and every other imaginable luxury money could buy. Our days revolved around Jacky’s chemotherapy and attempting to get her as comfortable as possible. It was awful. I wouldn’t wish cancer on my worst fucking enemy. I chose this life with her, and I had to be strong, keep the morale high, be positive, be her rock and continue fighting and believing, or I would lose her even sooner.

“If I were the one diagnosed with cancer, I’d lock myself in a room and fall into a deep depression, or possibly just jump off a building. Not Jacky, though. She was amazing. She never complained, never demanded a thing. She was usually more concerned about everybody going out of their way for her than her own wellbeing. I constantly felt like the asshole who was mad at the world on her behalf. I wanted to blame someone and hold them accountable for her suffering. Why her? She was a fucking saint; she didn’t deserve it. I hated feeling sorry for myself when
she
was the one getting punched and beaten by life—not me. I couldn’t watch her die. I know I promised to be by her side physically, but emotionally, I was shattered and I had to cling onto some kind of hope or I would go insane.

“Jacky was always upset about me spending too much time in the hospital or at home with her. She wanted me to go out and try to pretend I had a normal life, make friends at work and other places. She was stubborn, forcing me to socialize and live for the both of us. She wasn’t just my wife, she was my best friend, and she could read me better than anyone else could. She knew what watching her suffer did to me, and she tried to keep me busy. The times that she would be too tired or too sick to leave the house, she would somehow find errands for me to do all over town, or literally arrange meet-ups with some of my buddies. I was a weak, spineless fool who had plenty of escapism when I should’ve had more realism. I wasn’t a good friend or husband to her. I was always selfish.”

“How were you selfish?” Kali’s voice is defensive on my account. I can sense her growing irritated with my negative self-assessment, but she just experienced my egotism firsthand, so how is she asking me this?

“Remember I told you that I will be presenting two stories in order for your grandmother’s words to mean anything?” She immediately “a-has” me. “Ask me that same question after you hear the second part of my story, deal?” She agrees with an “a-ha” once again.

I know once she finds out about Sara, she’ll understand exactly what kind of selfish person I really am.

“Do you believe in miracles?” I question, already knowing her answer.

“No, there are no miracles. My life has proven that whatever is meant to be will be, and nothing a person does can change their destiny.”

I smile, even though I don’t agree.

“What if a person that had a year to live was granted fourteen instead?” She’s silent, probably doing math in her head.

“Jacqueline, your wife, survived cancer and lived for fourteen years?” Her voice is alert and shocked.

“She was never cancer free, or worry free, but she was in remission, and we had fourteen years together. If that’s not a miracle I don’t know what is. I prayed for my best friend to get better and stay with me for as long as possible, and my prayers were answered—to a certain degree. I can’t tell you how much she suffered, the fear I felt every time we sat down to talk to one of her physicians, or how many surgeries we lived through, but she was always the happy one, convincing me how blessed she felt, even though I felt cursed. Instead of trying to cram a lifetime’s worth of happiness into a year, we got almost fourteen. We’ve never spent a day away from each other and I always woke up to Jacqueline in my arms.” Every word I tell Kali is true, it’s just that in my case, I have two truths.

“Tell me about your enfants. I’d love to hear about them … if that’s okay,” she questions cautiously.

Her voice sounds different—hopeful—and it makes me want to smile, but before I answer, I look down and unclench my left hand. I touch my colorless tattoo that lived silently for years under the place my wedding band once occupied, and I no longer want to smile.

One life, two women, two truths, two lies—infinite pain.

“My wife was the most nurturing, caring, loving person I’ve ever met. Us having kids was never something she allowed herself to dream about. But after her surgery, and after living cancer free for over two years, she started to bring up the subject of us having babies. At the time, the doctors told us it was possible since she didn’t have a hysterectomy, but nature wouldn’t allow it. We couldn’t have kids and I’m glad we didn’t; her body didn’t need more exertion. I think part of Jacky’s problem was that she never permitted herself to stop and feel sick and fully acknowledge her condition. In her mind, she was just another girl trying to get pregnant. We all deal with things in different ways. I guess that’s how she protected her sanity and dealt with our fucked-up reality.”

“But you guys did have kids. Did you adopt?”

I clench my fist again and try to swallow the memories. But some memories aren’t meant to go down smoothly; they’re meant to choke you until you suffocate.

I graze over one truth and choose to tell her another … the one that will be easier for her to comprehend, at this point. It’s the same truth I’ve used to lie to myself every day. I hold on to this truth with both hands every minute of my life, because the second I let my mind recall the other, my life becomes unbearable.