“No, she passed out on the couch before I even made it downstairs,” Holly answers for me. “She’s still being blind and stubborn,” she informs him, and he shakes his head in disapproval.
Ignoring their comments, I grab a sippy cup, fill it with milk, and take it to Drew. Pouring Chloe and Tara’s milk, I place them at their settings and excuse myself to go get ready. My feet skid to a stop when I hear Chloe say to Aunt Holly, “These are much better than Trey’s. Where is he?” A heart wrenching pain hits my chest. Is it really fair that I take him away from her too? Quickly, I disregard the thought, it’s better now than in a few months when this life becomes too much for him to bear.
I pass the closed bedroom door to Caden and Jen’s room. Briefly, I think how I would have borrowed something from Jen to wear today on any other occasion. All her beautiful dresses and pants suits from the dinners and faculty events she attended with Caden. The noise from kitchen float up the stairs showing the kids are finally really waking up. My hand reaches for the doorknob on its own accord. Twist it, I tell myself. Bury yourself in the grief, surround yourself in it. Looking down at the floor, I rush in and shut the door behind me.
The smell of fresh linen and cotton has my eyes closing in remembrance of my sister’s favorite scent. Her room spray that she had to swap for candles after the kids came rests on the dresser counter. The bed is made with the precision Caden always possessed. The suitcases sit on the floor next to the footstool. Trey must have brought them in when we returned. Pictures of her and Caden at their wedding, the day they brought Drew home, and all of us last spring on the porch steps line along her dresser. A bowl full of dried up rose petals from the first bouquet Caden ever brought her amongst them. Slowly I walk to the bathroom and their toothbrushes rest next to their designated sinks. Caden’s cologne placed on his shelf with his aftershave and deodorant. Everything exactly where it should be as though he had outlines drawn to where they belong.
Jen’s side a little messier, her hairbrush laying on the counter with strands of her chestnut hair weaved through the prongs.
I walk into their enormous walk in closet. The one Jen demanded Caden redo when they bought the house. There are shelves for her sweaters, shoe racks for her high-end designer shoes. All of Caden’s ties rest on a custom made tie rack Jen had made for him when he became Professor at Western. Jen had ‘Professor Hottie’ engraved across the top. His laundered shirts, hanging up according to color, plaids, or stripes. A small smile creeps across thinking about how Jen and I always imitated his obsessive-compulsive tendencies, and he would tell us that is a serious condition. We would continue laughing until he would leave the room in a huff throwing a pillow at us. For the first time, it hits me; I’ll never have that again. There are no more movie nights where Jen and I force Caden to watch a chick flick while he sits there begrudgingly, secretly enjoying it. We won’t have the rock, paper, scissor game to predict who washes the dishes after a holiday meal. Nothing in my life will be the same again.
A flood of memories come over me. Caden’s expression when I slammed the door in his face that first time I met him. When he asked me for Jen’s hand in marriage and included me in the planning. Their small wedding at Aunt Holly and Uncle Clyde’s, Jen with flowers in her hair like some free spirited hippie. Caden in his nice blue suit, his eyes only on her as she walked to him. When Chloe came home and the small bickering between them on who would feed, or change her. Me getting up in exasperation to just make it stop. Their laughter when I returned that it was a game to get me to do it. Me throwing the pillow in their faces then.
All the loss becomes too much for me, and I grab one of Caden’s sweatshirts, throwing it over my head. Pulling a scarf of Jens down, I sink to the floor, curl up in a ball and cry into the scent that’s home. That mixture of Caden’s musk cologne and Jen’s crisp peach lotion that made them, Jen and Caden, a love that ended much too early.
Sobs scream out of me. My fists bang the carpet. My legs curl into me. I’m not sure how long it’s been before Uncle Clyde busts into the room and sits down next to me. Placing his hand on my back, he whispers things will be okay, we will get through this. I allow him to tell me all the bull shit people say after someone dies. I stand up and hug him, saying he’s right and I’ll be fine. Then I walk out of the room, get in the shower, and dress in my best black dress.
Aunt Holly and I dress the girls while Uncle Clyde takes care of Drew. We do their hair and make them look like beautifully angelic girls. Aunt Holly shifts her skeptical gaze to me occasionally. She sees the coldness in every step I make, the robotic moves and directions. I’m slowly shutting down just like I did when I was ten. Pretty soon I’ll be completely in a black hell, it’s safer there. I don’t give a shit what anyone says; I’d rather be alone than feel this heartache again. Twice in one lifetime is enough for me.
Chapter 19
Trey
I sit in the driveway and bang my head against the steering wheel before throwing the car in reverse and speeding off. Not wanting to go home, I continue driving. Thoughts of my whole life float through my head like a slideshow of pictures. All the girls, drinking, and band gigs swarm around my memory of my college years. The baby and Zoey peek through the fog of my mistakes the past five years. I just can’t let Kailey push me away when every fiber in me screams she’s where I belong. It’s her and the kids I’m meant to be with. They’re a package deal, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. Now I just need her to stop being so fucking stubborn.
Hours later, I pull in my driveway, and Bridgette’s house is thundering with music and high-pitched laughter. Cars line up and down the street while students mill around the yard with red Solo cups and cigarettes. This is the first time in months that I crave a cigarette. I park the car and holler over at a group of guys huddled around the keg. A guy turns around, and I ask him to bum a cigarette. He’s on his way over when Bridgette appears out of nowhere and holds a butt of one to my lips. She flicks the lighter, and I allow her to stick the cigarette in my mouth before raising the lighter. Inhaling deep, I can’t help but let my eyes wander down her exposed cleavage lit up from the red iridescent glow of the flame. When my eyes turn back up, she’s flirtatiously smiling up at me. A look that would have had me pushing her up against the side of the house already in my former life.
“I heard about Professor Campbell and his wife,” she says flatly. “Shouldn’t you be playing your role of daddy now? Or is the mommy still wanting you to chase her.” Her bitter words has me wanting to flick the lit cigarette in her face.
“God, Bridgette. Jealous?” I accuse, wishing like hell I would’ve just gone into the house.
“Why would I be jealous? She might have gotten you wrapped around her finger, but people like you and me don’t change, Trey.” She takes her finger and slowly moves it down the front of my shirt. “It’s probably for the best, you would’ve broken her heart eventually,” she finishes and smirks up at me.
“You don’t know shit. You’re just a fucking slut, whom no one gives a shit about. I get it, I hurt you. You thought you could be more to me that a good time, but you weren’t. And seeing how spiteful you can be makes me pretty damn happy about that. Don’t hate Kailey because you’re jealous of her. I know there’s a lot to be jealous of, she’s pretty fucking spectacular, but you’ll never be it the same league. Hell, I’m not in the same league, but god damn it if I’m not going to try to make her believe I’m good enough for her,” I assert and turn around toward the house.