The ringing of my phone startles me, and dread sinks in my bones.
With clenched teeth and a nauseous stomach, I answer the call. No reason to prolong the inevitable embarrassment.
“H-hello?”
“Hey, did you just call my phone? Is something wrong at the house?”
I shut my eyes and hold back the words I want to tell him. “Um, yeah, that was me. I just called to see how you were doing.”
I miss you every single day.
“To see how I was doing…” His voice trails off, and his tone gives nothing away.
“Yep, that’s it,” I say, trying my hardest to sound lighthearted and relaxed.
Sometimes, if I close my eyes, I can still feel your lips on mine.
He sighs into the phone, and I hear the television in the background trailing off, as if he’s leaving the room.
“Celia…” He sighs again. “You can’t just call me out of the blue anymore. It’s just … it’s not okay.”
I cover my mouth and nose to muffle the sound of my sobs. I wish for the weight of the memories, if this is the alternative. My heart splinters, slices into unsalvageable pieces.
“I know … I’m sorry,” I whisper, afraid he will hear my sorrow if I raise my voice any louder.
You were my heart, my soul, my laugh. I tried to be your sweet … your sparkle.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he says in a gentle voice, telling me I’m doing a terrible job of hiding my hurt. “Look … take care, all right?”
“Yeah, you too.”
Please save me from this empty life.
“Good night.”
He hangs up before I have a chance to reply.
Sarge whistles a tune while we rock in silence, and the beautiful sound softens my mood and feeds my soul. The faint creaking of the rocking chairs, along with his whistling, fills the evening air. His eyes are closed, and he looks as serene as I feel.
“I suggest you start sipping that mint julep, little lady. We take teatime serious in these parts,” he mutters with a cracked eye.
He goes back to rocking and sings an old Frank Sinatra tune. The only thing more captivating than Sarge’s whistling is his singing. His deep baritone flows like a perfectly aged merlot, deep and rich.
“You’d give old blue eyes a run for his money, Sarge. Did you ever think of singing professionally?” I ask as I sip my syrupy drink.
His booming laughter surprises me, and I turn to face him, curling my legs up into the chair.
“Girly, this voice was made for wooing the ladies and church on Sunday. Nothing else.”
I giggle. “Now, why do I think you wooed more ladies than sang hymns?”
He winks at me and nods his head. “Because you know a charmer when you see one. Had to beat ‘em off with a stick, I did. But I only had eyes for my sweet Rose. After fifty years, she still moves me. Some things are just written in the stars.”
“You’re lucky to have found a love like that … to live it all these years.”
“Girly, luck has nothing to do with it. We choose each other, every day. Finding love is the easy part. Living it, working your tail off to keep it? There’s no luck in that. It’s hard work.”
“But worth it, right?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“Every ounce of blood, sweat, and tears.” He chuckles and closes his eyes. “Whenever times were tough, when Rose and I didn’t see eye to eye, I always went back to the beginning. There’s an oak tree out on Highway 88. It’s where we first kissed, where I proposed, where we—well, you get the picture…”
I giggle at his comment and the boyish grin playing on his lips.
“Anytime I have doubts, I sit under that tree and remember the good times. And then I always come to the realization that even the bad times are good times, as long as my Rose is by my side.”
I wrap my arms around my legs and rest my head on top of my knees. “I wish I had a place like that—a place to center me and clear the fog.”
I have no family home to speak of, and I don’t feel Grams at the cemetery. My St. Jude necklace dangles on my neck, and I know it’s the only thing that makes her feel close. Sometimes I hold the pendant tightly in my fist, and whisper all my worries and wants, just like I used to with Grams. But an actual place? I can’t think of one.
“You just haven’t found it yet, but it’s out there.”
“Yeah,” I whisper wistfully, just as the screen door creaks.
“Celia, darling, you dress is hemmed and ready to go. I hung it on the back of the door,” Granny says as she crosses her arms and leans on the doorframe. “Is the old geezer minding his manners, or do I need to withhold his apple pie?”
“Stop your crazy talk, woman. There’s no old geezer out here.” Sarge nudges me and smiles.
I play along and clear my throat. “Nope, I only see a dashing gentleman on this porch.”
Granny walks to Sarge and steals a kiss from her all-too-eager husband. “He is dashing, isn’t he?”
I gather my purse and quickly duck inside to get my dress. Granny helped me out of a pinch, and the dress looks to be the perfect length.
“Thank you so much for your help, Granny. And, as always, thank both of you for the company.”
I give each of them a tight hug. These visits mean the world to me, and I don’t know what I would do if Cain ever asked me to stop seeing his family. It may very well be my breaking point. To a girl with no family, an evening with Granny and Sarge is priceless.
As I walk down the porch steps, Sarge’s rocker begins to creak, and his gentle whistle fills the air. I reach my car and turn to find Granny following closely behind. She crosses her arms and leans against the side of my car.
She gives me a knowing look. “Are you ready for tomorrow night, sweet girl?”
I release a sigh and give her a grim smile. “I guess I have to be, right?”
“Yes, I guess you do,” she says, brushing my hair behind my ear. “When you see my grandson, I want you to remember something.”
“What’s that, Granny?”
She stands and holds me by my shoulders. “You’ve left him with no other choice, my darling. I love you like one of my own, but the truth is the truth. You’ve left him no alternative but to move on with his life. Please remember that.”
I give her a quick nod, knowing she’s speaking the truth. No matter how seeing him with Kimberly makes my gut twist, I have no one to blame but myself. So I square my shoulders and swallow my fate.
So tomorrow, I’ll watch Alex marry the love of her life while seeing Cain happy with the love of his.
“Still” by Matt Nathanson
Present Day
KIMBERLY’S NAILS RUN up and down my sleeved arm as she clutches on to me for dear life. I chalk it up to nerves. She’s out of her comfort zone with my friends. She’s pretty clingy normally, but she’s reminding me of a damn octopus today. For the hundredth time, I regret my decision to invite her.
We sit under a massive oak tree on Alex’s family’s golf course, bathed in twinkle lights and the scent of wildflowers. Adam softly strums the guitar from the front of the makeshift altar as we wait for the bride to arrive. Come to think of it, we’re still waiting for most of the women. No doubt, they’re all crowded together pecking and squawking like a house of hens.
Alex and West have waited what I’m sure feels like a lifetime for this day. I watched them struggle and claw their way through setback after setback to be together. I sat back as they duked it out from the beginning, and it’s been quite a show. What started out as a weekly golf game between Alex and me quickly evolved into a threesome. It’s humbling, to say the least, getting my ass handed to me by a girl and a one-legged man, but the company makes it worth the shame. They are two of the coolest people I know, and I couldn’t be happier they found their way back to each other.