I play the next message right away, which was left just days later. “People tell me that I need to get out and enjoy life. Because I’m alive. But I don’t feel alive. Everything hurts all the time, but at the same time, I feel nothing. How can you feel nothing and everything at the same time? It doesn’t make sense, I know. It’s like…it’s like I died and they forgot to bury me. I’m not sure what to do. You’d know, but if you were here…” She breaks off crying, and the line goes dead.
I don’t think as I press play on the next message, which is from a few days after the last. “Jake,” she breathes his name again, and I feel a weird stirring inside me, and it takes everything I have to repress the truth. I’d give anything to have someone say my name with such longing, which is totally fucked up. The woman is grieving the loss of her loved one. “It’s been raining all week and everyone is worried about the river. They say these things can happen fast and the currents are strong. Scott called today and asked me to stay with him for a while in Orlando. He said he’d take me to Disney World. I’m tired of people treating me like a child, even though you know I love Disney.”
I find myself smiling at her words, heart breaking at the same time.
“Maybe I should go,” she continues. “Because I feel like I’m drowning, like I’m caught in the muddy current of the river and I can’t get my arms and legs to move to fight it. Because I don’t want to fight it.”
The message ends and I bring the phone away from my ear, letting out a breath. I blink and stare at the window, listening to the river in the background. The pain in this woman’s voice is hauntingly beautiful, awakening the dark parts of my heart and making me feel.
I haven’t felt anything deep in years.
I look back at the phone and scroll through the messages. The voicemail box has to be close to full, but since there’s nothing else on the phone taking up memory, it’s able to store them all. For now. Once I start using the phone I’ll have to delete the messages, which seems wrong for some insane reason.
Her words are spoken in heartbroken whispers, not meant for anyone to hear. And yet I can’t stop listening.
The next message is from two weeks after that and is considerably shorter. “Mom made me see a therapist today. She also told me to write down how I feel on a piece of paper. I left it blank. She seemed annoyed, but that’s how I feel. Empty.”
“Fuck,” I mutter and lock the screen on the phone. No more messages tonight. My mystery woman’s words hit a little too close to home. I set the phone down, shower, and get into the uncomfortable bed, which instantly makes me eager for my new mattress to arrive tomorrow.
I pull out my Kindle and try to read, but my mind keeps drifting to the woman who left the messages. Collectively, I’ve heard her speak for only a few minutes. Yet it’s not the time, but the depth of her words. The emotion in her voice. I can’t get her out of my mind and I don’t know her name or what she looks like.
If we ever met, I’d be fucked.
Chapter 3
Sierra
“I’m not taking no for an answer. It’s my birthday.”
I pick up a box cutter and carefully slice through the packing tape. “I don’t know, Lisa,” I say to my cousin, who also doubles as my best friend. “There’s a lot to do here tonight.”
I don’t have to look up to feel her incredulous stare.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I mean, we just got this shipment in and I have five-hundred dollars to spend on new orders tonight.”
“Tonight?”
Her one-word questions further prove how little she believes me. “And this has to be done on a Friday night? Don’t most places not process orders over the weekend?”
“No, lots of places ship every day of the week. And it’s going to take time going through the catalog, plus I’ve been slowly convincing Mrs. Williams to stock more indie books.” Since Jake died over a year ago, I haven’t felt like myself. It’s like part of me died with him, and all that remained was the part of me that does day-to-day tasks, surviving, getting by and fooling those around me.
But not living.
I flick my eyes up from the box of books in front of me and see Lisa’s face. She’s annoyed and concerned, like everyone else close to me, though Lisa is one of the few who didn’t put a time limit on my grief. But I know it won’t last forever, and I don’t want to throw away a lifetime of friendship.
“Sierra, please,” she says softly. “I miss hanging out with you.”
I remove packing paper from the box of books and close my eyes in a long blink. Lisa is my only remaining friend. Everyone else ran out of patience, it seems, and didn’t feel comfortable hanging out with me. I don’t want to lose Lisa too.
“I guess it could wait,” I start.
“Fuck yes!” Lisa exclaims and then winces. “Sorry,” she says to the customers milling about the store. “We’ve missed you, Sierra. So much.”
“Who’s all going?” I ask and try to ignore the instant regret I feel for agreeing to go. Though even before I became the shell of my former self, I wasn’t much of a going-out person. I enjoyed quiet nights at home reading or binging a show on Netflix.
“The usual crew: Katie, Bella, and Heather. But not Francine. I can’t stand that bitch.”
“I can’t either. She’s too judgmental.”
“She’s worse than me, and I’m a very judgey person,” Lisa quips.
“What’s the dress code?”
“Sexy.” She lifts her hand and points at me, pushing her eyebrows together. “Don’t think I forgot what a total knockout you are. I’m still jealous you broke the Belmont curse of the flat chest.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Trust me, I’d trade with you any day. Especially in this heat. The sweat dripping between my boobs all day is so lovely.”
“Well, put those suckers to good use tonight and get us some free drinks. Flirt a little and have some fun. I want to see you enjoying life again.”
I smile at her words but feel the dull edge of the knife in my heart. “I do too.” And I do, but I fear the void inside is too big to ever be filled.
I sit on the edge of my bed looking down at my multi-colored pastel heels. It’s the only thing I’ve put on so far other than a bra and underwear, and am having a hard time picking out an outfit for tonight. I ordered these shoes the week before Jake died, and since the flower design is hand-painted, they didn’t arrive until after his funeral. I’ve never worn them until tonight.
Standing, I go to my closet and look through my clothes. I settle on a white sundress with flowers stitched onto the thin straps. I put it on, and go into the bathroom to do my hair and makeup. I keep things simple and add big, loose curls and just a bit of eye shadow and mascara.
When I step back and look at myself in the mirror, it’s like I’m looking into the past, and I’m overcome with longing again. But this time, it’s for the woman I used to be. I want to be her again, though the thought of laughing and going out with friends, of moving on, makes me feel guilty.