Prologue
Zach
You see that guy wearing a dark suit, crisp dress shirt, and a tie? Yes, the guy with dark brown hair and blue eyes. Wait, you’re looking at my twin brother. I mean the one next to him. The man with the vacant expression. The poor asshole who can barely stand and would like to be anywhere but in this cemetery.
This isn’t the best time to meet me. I’m not at my best. Under different circumstances, I’m the one who’d be making you feel welcome during this gathering—even when it’s a funeral. I could give you an insight into Zachary David St. James. My friends call me Zach. I’m twenty-seven, and the owner of Café Fusion. If you’re ever in Boston, come and check it out. As you can see, I’m down on my luck. My wife of six months died in an accident last Monday.
I believe in love.
The kind of love that wraps your heart to your soul and hand delivers it to the person you’re meant to be with. I’m not saying I’ve been planning my wedding since I was six. That’d be my baby sister. I just knew that one day I’d get married and start a family.
When I met Calliope Brassard, I thought, this is it—she is love personified.
Callie was supposed to be the one I’d spend the rest of my life with. She was supposed to be my eternity—if that’s even a term.
I chuckle inside my head. If Callie heard me call her love personified or my eternity, she’d be laughing at me. She used to say I was corny. Too corny. At the beginning of our relationship, I thought we were complete opposites who fit perfectly. In the end…
I stare at the mahogany casket that’s being lowered into the ground. This trip isn’t what I thought when Calliope said she wanted to take a trip to celebrate our six-month anniversary this weekend. She hoped we’d go to a luxury beach, like Plage des Sablettes in France. I suggested we travel to Seattle, maybe spend the weekend in Silver Lake with my family. It’s the fifth anniversary since we lost my brother, Archer. She was uncomfortable with the idea of going to his celebration of life.
And here we are, at Holyhood Cemetery—ironically, celebrating her life.
Burke, my twin brother, squeezes my shoulder as the priest sprinkles holy water. The next step is to toss a red rose that lands on the mahogany casket. Callie preferred orchids, but my sister, Teddy, said that roses are more practical. After releasing the red flower that falls slowly on top of the elegant box, I look around. My three brothers and my baby sister follow my lead.
They welcomed Callie as part of the St. James family, even when they thought our wedding was too sudden.
Was it sudden?
At least I got to be with her for six months before…I can’t even think about her being dead. A part of me is waiting for her to walk up and say, “What did I miss?”
“Why her?” I hear a woman cry. When I look up, I spot Callie’s mom sobbing.
I don’t know why it happened to Callie, and I don’t plan on asking. If I begin to ask questions, I’ll drive myself crazy. What-ifs are also forbidden because I can’t deal with the answers.
“It’s time for us to go,” Burke says, placing his hand on my shoulder and directing me to where I have to walk.
My twin and Teddy have been taking care of everything, including me. I’ve been a zombie ever since two police officers arrived at the coffee shop Monday evening to tell me that my wife wasn’t picking up her phone because she was dead. I was hoping it was a tantrum because I didn’t want to go to France. No. Callie was dead.
“Are you sure those are Callie’s parents?” I hear Teddy ask.
“Yes.” Burke sounds annoyed. “Why do you ask?”
“I remember her saying they were horrible people. Look at her sisters. They are crying for her. I—”
“Stop,” I order Teddy. “We’re not discussing Callie.”
She nods, giving me an apologetic look.
I know what she’s about to say, and I’m not ready to listen to any of it. I just lost my wife.
I glance one last time to where I left her to rest, alone. If there’s something Callie feared, it was being by herself. I feel like I should stay behind with her. That’s what they used to do in Egypt, wasn’t it? I lift my gaze, looking at her parents, who are archeologists. They’d know, but I guess it’s too late to ask them if what I’m doing is right. One thing is for sure: I don’t care to uncover any secrets or learn more about my wife. All I know is that I’ll never listen to her voice or see her bright smile again.
All I know is that I probably died with her.
Podcast Week 1 Season 6
June 10th
“Hello, all you beautiful people. I’m Persy, and this is Life with Persy. Each week, I’m answering your questions about your relationships with your cat, your significant other, your parents, your siblings, and your roommate, to name a few.
“Need to get along with a nosey neighbor from hell? There’s always a solution.
“Did you marry the grump next door, and he’s driving you crazy? I have a trick or two to tame your man.
“Does that cute guy from Tinder come with more baggage than you bargained for? We’ll talk it up and dish it out here.
“I’ll offer advice, tactics, and tools that you can use in your daily life to create your own slice of happiness.
“Just a reminder, this podcast is not suited for work, but you can play it almost everywhere else on your favorite podcast listening devices.
“Welcome to a new season. I can’t believe that I’ve been on the air for six years. I hate to start this season and this episode with a sad note. Most of you have been with me since the beginning of my journey. You know my family pretty well. This is my safe space where I share a lot of what’s happening in my life. With sadness, I have to announce that my baby sister, Callie, died last month. Please keep my family and her husband, Zach, in your prayers.
“This is a difficult time for the Brassards. I’m having trouble wrapping my head around the loss of my sister. I just want to know, why? Maybe that’s my problem, that I always ask why. I always have questions, and sometimes there aren’t enough answers to satiate my curiosity or soothe my pain. I just want to know why her so I can give some peace to my devastated parents.
“I guess when we grieve, all we want is answers, more time with the person we love, a second chance. Losing my baby sister has given me a different perspective on life. I’m tempted to change my commandments, or at least add one. Make it eleven. Live every second of your life.
“But enough about me. It’s time to concentrate on my listeners. Since we’re talking about sisters, our first email is from Unable to Decide. Well, that’s a funny way to sign an email.
“Dear Persy,
My sister and I have a good relationship, so the answer to my question should be easy. It’s not. So, last week I caught my sister’s fiancé playing tonsil hockey with another woman outside a hotel. The man is clearly cheating on her—again. She’s getting married in less than a month. The question is, do I tell her or not?
You might say it’s a simple yes, do it. It’s not. My sister believes in (let’s call him Tyler) blindly. When it comes to him, she makes the worst decisions ever. Tyler can do no wrong. It doesn’t matter that Tyler left her at the altar. He stole money, wrecked her car, and killed her cat. He ran over him with his bike. Every time he does something harmful, she swears she’s going to leave him. She does until she takes him back.