~*~
The crowd cheers, chanting the words “one more song” over and over. I look over my shoulder to my band, their expressions reflecting the energy from the crowd.
I turn back toward the audience, shielding my eyes past the lights. There, standing at the end of a long table that seats my friends, is my Gia. She’s grinning big and clapping. I run my gaze down the long table. Blake is sitting with Layla pulled into his arms and Raven, my sister, sits wrapped in Jonah’s arms. Mason, Caleb, Owen and his wife Nikki, Eve, all of them are here to show their support.
They’ve welcomed Gia into the fold as if she’d been there the whole time. She waves at me. I wink and she blows me a kiss. Damn, my head’s fuzzy with the euphoria of it all.
I strum the beginning of a new song we’ve been working on. Talon joins in with the snare and double bass hits. “One more song, huh?”
The crowd erupts in cheers, and Lane and Ty fade in with rhythm guitar and bass.
“You got it.” I step back from the mic stand and concentrate on the intricate picking of the lead-guitar part.
I’m pumped and feel alive for the first time in my life. The music curls around me like an embrace, and looking out into the faces of adoring fans and my family is something I never thought I’d do.
The words flow from my lips as an extension of my soul. Pouring out my heart in lyrical form, I belt out the words and hope that she knows there for her. I pray that they penetrate to erase the memories of the past again so that we can replace them with possibilities for our future.
You came into my life, like a gentle breeze.
Bringing me fresh air that enabled me to breathe.
And with all that you are, your kindness filled me up.
The first taste of your lips I knew would never be enough.
Your body’s my sanctuary; I worship at its gate.
Unworthy of its treasure, you let me in anyway.
I found my cure within your heaven and the miracle of you.
I devote my life to proving I’m worthy of everything you do.
Because . . .
You I will remember.
Your love’s my safety net.
Keeps me from memories that destroy.
Gives me strength when I’m fighting to forget.
The road ahead is paved with pain and shards of a broken past.
Life offers no guarantees, and no good is good that lasts.
But when the darkness closes in, we’ll do what gets us through.
We’ll clasp hands through the storm; I’ll find my refuge in you.
Because . . .
You I will remember.
Your love’s my safety net.
Keeps me from memories that destroy.
Gives me strength when I’m fighting to forget.
And I’ll fight to forget.
Together we’ll fight . . .
Keep fighting to forget.
With my eyes closed, I sing the vow I wrote to Gia, while sitting in the hospital waiting for her to come back to me, my promise to devote my life to her and do everything I can to bring light into the darkness of our souls—to give our love a chance despite all the shit we have to work through.
The last chord rings out, and the room erupts in hollers and whistles. I squint into the crowd, searching for the bright hair and gray eyes of the other part of me. Finally, I find her. She’s standing close to the stage, eyes brimming with tears, her full lips pulled into a shaky smile.
So gorgeous and all mine. Forever.
I put my lips to the mic. “The girl does cry.”
She smiles through her tears and it hits me hard. That’s what she’s always done, faced the worst possible circumstances with a grin and her fists raised.
Fuck, but I love this woman. Her passion, fight, determination to take on the worst of evils and come out on top.
My girl.
My Gia.
Epilogue
Gia
“Are you sure we’re doing this right?” I stand back and study the six-foot Christmas tree that’s sitting crooked in its stand, lights hanging off in places, and ornaments shoved between branches.
Rex scratches his head and shrugs. “No clue. I’ve never done this before, but shit, how hard can it be?”
I chew my lower lip. It shouldn’t be that hard, but neither of us has celebrated Christmas before and I had no idea how hard decorating a tree would be.
“They never had a tree for the kids in the group home?” I shove my fingers through some branches, pushing back a red glass ball until it disappears behind the needles. Huh, that doesn’t look right either.
“Nope.” He shoves the tree upright only to watch it lean back when he steps away. “The institution never put up a tree?”
I string the multicolored lights up higher on the tree. “Nah. It would’ve been considered a hazard. You know, electricity, sharp things.” I study the tree again. “You sure these are the right lights? They seem too big.”
“Honestly, baby, I have no fucking clue. The box said lights.”
“Huh.” I check the digital clock on the oven. “Everyone’s going to be here in an hour.”
We stare at the tree for a few seconds and then burst into laughter.
Rex decided he was ready to have people over, and we thought a Christmas Eve get-together would be the perfect excuse. But everything that comes easy to most is hard for us. We didn’t have conventional childhoods and lack the traditions that make things like decorating a holiday tree easy.
“Fuck it.” Rex picks up an empty ornament box and throws it in a big trash bag he pulled out earlier. “I think it’s perfect.”
“It kinda is, isn’t it?” I look at our pathetic tree again. “It’s our kind of perfect.”
He kisses my forehead. “That it is, baby.”
The last couple weeks have been hard. We’re both in intensive therapy twice a week, once together and once separately. We’ve had to rehash things that we’d both wish to forget, and Rex’s memories are still filtering back little by little.
The other night he woke up shaking. He’d had a dream about his mom. She was crying, and he felt so desperate in his dream to get her to stop. He said he’d actually felt her arms around him, telling her that he was the only man in her life who truly loved her. She called him “her little man.” He curled into my arms, and I sang to him until he fell back to sleep.
As wonderful as it is for Rex to have that part of his mom back, it doesn’t come without consequences and pain. At twenty-five-years old he’s losing his mom all over again.
But we find joy in the little things, making macaroni and cheese out of a box and s’mores over the gas burner in the kitchen. He bought me a dirt bike for my birthday, which isn’t until February. When things get too intense, we take to the hills and ride together or make a trip to the Stratosphere, little things that remind us that we’re alive and together.
Remind us to look forward.
Keep moving.
And never stop fighting for our chance at happiness.
~*~
I’m looking over the dessert table that’s spread with every kind of Christmas food we could think of from eggnog to decorated sugar cookies and peppermint bark, mini assorted chocolates and a big thermos of hot chocolate.
The bathroom door opens and Rex walks out. My eyes freeze on him and two steps toward me, his legs do the same.