Lost In Rewind (Audio Fools #3) (8 page)

Emily and William stand on either side of her while holding each of her hands, and I think they’re singing or something, because Emily is making exaggerated hand gestures while swaying and William looks like he’s yelling at the top of his lungs. I spot Louis sitting on the far right, drumming his hands on his chair, and it would all be funny and entertaining if Sara weren’t lying frozen in the center of the scene. I know what they’re doing … they’re trying to wake her up. They’re trying to make her come home from the hell she’s apparently lost in.

I close my eyes and wish I could figure out a way to switch places with her. I’ve begged and pleaded to be able to switch places with Jacky thousands of times, but I’m still here. I pull apart my tear-filled eyes to see them all motionless on the other side of the door. Emily is crying and suddenly falls to her knees. William hangs his head down, and Louis sprints to his wife’s side.
Show is over.
I move away from the door as I see Louis approaching with Emily hysterical in his arms. They leave Sara’s room without noticing me standing, like an unwanted intruder, on the side. I can hear the anguish in Emily’s sobs long after they disappear, and I somehow feel like I’m to blame. I feel personally responsible for Sara. I always have.

I look back into the room again. It’s just her and William as he sits on a chair by her side. He’s still clutching her hand and kisses it repeatedly. He lets go of her hand to touch her hair. The door is slightly ajar and I can hear him speak to the woman he obviously loves and deserves more than I ever have.

“This is my favorite strand of hair, the one that usually fancies falling into your eyes. It’s the strand that drives me bananas whenever I spy it anywhere near your eyes, the one I must adjust at all costs.”

I feel like a ghost witnessing a moment not meant for me. She hasn’t moved and the strand he speaks of is static, suspended, devoid of life. That strand is me.

“I won’t bloody live without you, Sara. You hear me? You’re my life, you’re my perfect ballerina. Open your eyes and say something smart, for the love of God,” he yells at the top of his lungs at a motionless, helpless girl. “Do you know that today was supposed to be our wedding day? Today oughta be the happiest day of our lives, yet I feel like the last person left on Earth.”

I swallow his words as if they are my own.

I want her to get up, open those bewitching eyes, and breathe on her own. I want her and him to have a life together—a good life, the kind she deserves, the kind I couldn’t give her.

I’m transfixed; I can’t stop watching them, and almost as if he can sense me, he turns his head and stares right back. You can clearly see every possible emotion pass on his features. He hates me. He wants to hurt me. He wants me to be lying on that hospital bed fighting for my life instead of Sara, and I want that, too.

I open the door, attempting to go against the grain and be less of a coward and more of a man. William instinctively gets up without letting go of Sara’s hand to face me. He seems frantic and agitated, as if bracing himself for a fight, but I’m not here to fight; there’s no competition. He wins. I don’t even know what to say to him.

I’m thankful that he begins speaking first.

“When I was flying back to New York, I finally had a moment of clarity. You see if A is meant to be with B, it doesn’t matter what C does. In the end, A will end up with B. C can stay and watch A and B come together, but C can’t have what was meant for A and B in the first place. I’m quite sure that I’m C in this debauched equation.” He lets go of her hand reluctantly, making a fist with his barren hand and continues looking me straight on. “I knew when I was returning back to New York, again, the city that hates me and my family, that I was on my way to witness the destruction I’ve choreographed firsthand. That I was headed back to see A and B have their happily ever after, surrounded by dead bodies and broken hearts. Because, you see, everything I love is cursed, and slowly but surely, gets taken away from me—first my brother, then my sister, now my baby, and eventually, my ballerina. And, Jeffery, I just want her to get through this. I promise, if she pulls out of this, I’ll leave you pair alone. I’ll go as far away from her as humanly possible and allow her to be happy. I will never ask for anything again if she makes it out of this alive.” He half weeps, finding her hand and clasping it once again.

I stand and listen to him in total bewilderment. He thinks Sara chose me? Does he really have no idea how much this woman loves him?

“Thank you,” I hear come out of his mouth, which catches me even more off guard.

I’m not sure if he’s being sarcastic or I’m imagining things. I’ve had such a long, tumultuous week that I don’t fucking know what planet we’re on.

“I’m rather glad you were present for Sara,” he adds as his voices cracks at uttering her name.

I look at him and nod, still in shock. “I’m sorry,” I manage to expel and look at my peaceful Sara, who seems miles away. “I’m sorry this happened to you guys, and I’m sorry if this was my fault. I tried to get help. When she fell to the floor and I could see the blood coming out … I wasn’t fast enough. I panicked. I tried to find the security guard and I wasted too much time. I should’ve gotten her to an ambulance faster. She seemed fine, I mean, we were talking and arguing and…”

I try and find the right words to tell him that we were saying goodbye. That we were finally letting one another go … when he adds, “Kissing?”

I look back at him, shocked, and my former self would be gloating and taking full ownership of that innocent kiss, but I love this woman. I can’t do this to her. I owe the person she loves the truth since she’s unable to provide it.

“It wasn’t that kind of kiss! Don’t be angry with her; it was all me. It was a goodbye kiss. It was an I’m-finally-happy kiss. It was an I-never loved-you-the-way-I-love-him kiss. It was a we-have-children-together kind of kiss. She already told me about you guys expecting a child together. She was so happy when she said it. It was the first time in years I saw her eyes smile and shine with hope. I never made her smile like that. I only caused pain and tears. You … you make her happy. She was never mine the way she’s yours. I was just lucky to be a small part of her world, and I’m infinitely a better human for knowing her. I owe her everything.”

The tears that I’ve held for years are out in full force. William hasn’t looked away from me while holding Sara’s hand tight. He looks like a different person than the arrogant enemy who stood over me in our old apartment a few days ago. He seems deflated, defeated, scared and lost, just like me. Helplessly watching the best part of you struggle to live is the worst pain in the world; I know, because that was my life for over fifteen years.

“Thank you for fetching her help. Thank you for not abandoning her. Thank you for doing the square thing. I lost one of my babies, but I beg the universe and anything that is holy I don’t lose them both.”

I nod my head, praying that the pretty girl I once met on a dance floor, the girl I’ve always carried with me in my heart, gets to dance again, even if it’s not with me.

“She will make it and everything will work out for you guys. I’m going home to see my kids, now. I’ve been a shitty, selfish father, like you said, since my wife died. But, if it’s okay, I’ll be back to see how she’s doing?” I reach out my arm as William still clutches Sara’s delicate hand. He reaches out his left hand and gives my hand a weak shake that I wouldn’t have anticipated from him. I look into his exhausted eyes; the overly dilated pupils now hide the blue that I clearly recall. I think to myself that you can take any man, no matter the size or status, and completely incapacitate him by wounding the thing he loves most. He loves her to the point of insecurity, weakness, helplessness and hopelessness; he loves her to death.

T
he nice thing about New York City is that all roads lead home. Each step is a memory of the last fifteen years I’ve lived here. I have enough happy and sad stories to last me a lifetime. I miss my children with every breath and every step. They are my only gift I pray is never taken from me.

For years, every morning I woke up with a purpose: to give Jacqueline a good life, a fucking fairy tale, to build a life that didn’t seem temporary within the agony and hell she was forced to live. But as the sun would set each day on our harsh reality, all my hopes and dreams would be depleted. I would run to Sara to reignite and refuel my soul to be a man again tomorrow.
That’s not a life.

Every notion delivers me a step closer to my home, which is no longer a physical place. Home is inside my heart where Juliet and Jacob dwell. I will now wake up every day and make sure I give those two perfect humans an ideal life with enough love to never have them feel devoid of a parent.

The image of Sara bleeding in my arms and losing her pregnancy assaults my mind unexpectedly. I swallow around my guilt and pick up the pace, running to my children. They are the only things that can refill my soul now; they are my reason to live.

I round the corner out of breath as my townhouse comes into focus. I look to my left and she’s there, sitting, waiting at Joanna’s restaurant with her chocolate croissant and tea, watching over us like she has every morning for years. Not knowing that I’ve financially kept this restaurant in business for years to ensure she had a dependable place to watch her children from every morning. Only she’s not there today. She’s still unconscious and unaware that her happiness has been suspended once again.

I run up the stairs and fumble with the lock, unable to shuffle in fast enough. The second I enter, my little monkeys attack me. It’s as if they stood by the door awaiting my return, which perhaps they have.

“Daddy, you’re home. Did you find our angel?” Juliet repeatedly kisses the side of my face.

I’m too overwhelmed with the flood of gratitude I feel at holding them both in my arms that I can’t even understand what my daughter is asking of me.

“Daddy, Mommy promised you’d find our guardian angel. Did you find her? Does she have wings? Does she look pretty, like Mommy?” Jacob takes my face with both his hands to direct my attention to him in an attempt to support his sister’s query.

My mother must see the horror manifesting on my face as she removes first Jacob and then Juliet from my arms and explains. “It takes time to find a guardian angel. Daddy still needs time to find her. One day you’ll meet your guardian angel, I promise.” She smiles sadly and winks at me.

“Mommy said her name is Sara. Daddy, look for an angel named Sara.”

I stand motionless, unable to breathe or speak.

“Juliet, let’s go start your bath time. Daddy will come read you both a story, maybe two if you behave.”

My mother offers me another sad look. I thank her with my eyes and kiss the disappointed looks on my children’s faces. I pray that one day Sara finds her own happiness and comes back to meet the miracles she helped create. We’ll be here waiting.

“
Send Me An Angel
” by Real Life

I
t’s been almost six months since Jacqueline passed away. It’s the first week I’ve stopped alternating between sleeping in Juliet and Jacob’s bed almost every night, chasing away their bad dreams with my presence. Juliet is adamant on me going to find us a guardian angel. Every time she mentions that her mommy promised a beautiful girl named Sara was going to come and live with us, my heart stops beating for a second to reset its rhythm. They’re too young to even understand that their mommy isn’t coming back. They still think she’s somewhere in a place called heaven getting treatment, and I thank God for their innocence.