Hell on Heels(53)

He was valiant, generous, and so very over-the-top.

The blades slowed down and Beau insisted on being the one to help me from my seat, even though Jason could have easily gotten there much quicker.

There was a pathway lit up with hanging Christmas lights that led to a table in the center of a large deck surrounded by four propane heaters.

“You could give date planners at The Bachelor a run for their money,” I joked—or, well, half joked. It was mostly the truth.

Beau laughed.

Instead of pulling a chair out for me, he pressed the button on a small speaker on the table, and music drifted out across the snow.

“Dance with me?”

I took his hand. “Of course.”

He pulled me tight as the soft melodies played.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and rested my cheek on his chest.

“You’re wonderful,” I told him.

He didn’t answer for quite some time. Just moved me slowly in the cold air until finally he found what it was he so wished to say.

“I would love you with absolution, Charleston,” Beau whispered to me as we danced. “But something tells me you won’t let me do that just yet, and for the life of me, I can’t understand why.”

I lifted my cheek from his chest and looked into his perfect blue eyes.

He wasn’t asking me to give him something I couldn’t.

He was just being open.

He was just being Beau.

I pressed my lips against his.

He kissed me back, before whispering, “It’s okay. I’ll wait.”

Oh, the rogue nature of inarticulate hearts.

I hoped Beau wasn’t suffering at the hands of mine.





Tuesday, April 16th, 2017



April wasn’t spring for me.

April wasn’t the beginning of longer days for me.

April was the month Henry died.

They say April showers bring May flowers. In my world, April showers brought with them a world of hurt.

My cellphone rang from somewhere in the apartment.

I pulled the blanket over my head, ignoring it.

This week would mark the ten-year anniversary of Henry’s death.

“Hey, Bumf*ck Police, I’m being chased by a guy who likes to pull tongues out of severed heads with his teeth. Is there a special extension for that?”

I was watching one of my all-time favourite horror movies, the 2001 classic Jeepers Creepers. Listening through the quilt as Darry yelled at Trish.

My cellphone rang again.

I didn’t answer.

Every year, on the week leading up to April 22nd, I stayed home.

I didn’t go to work.

I didn’t go out.

I didn’t see friends.

I just wallowed in misery until it was time to get in my car, drive to my parents’ house on the day of, where we would miss Henry together.

I heard Trish scream and pulled down the blanket.

I loved this movie.

Henry had loved this movie too.

He always sang that stupid song.

“Jeepers creepers… where’d ya get them peepers…”

I smiled to the room.

My eyes felt heavy from crying.

I’d cried so much.

Drifting asleep on the sofa, I heard my cellphone ring again.

“Jeepers creepers… where’d ya get them…”

Jolting awake, I gasped.

The credits were rolling on my television screen and my heart ran a thousand miles per minute.

Maybe I should watch something else.

I clicked through the Apple TV and pulled up where I’d left off on season one of Outlander.

It was an unusual choice for me, being it was a far cry from my typical indulgence into the world of gore and suspense, but it had become somewhat of a guilty pleasure of mine in these last months nonetheless.

I was drawn to the way Claire felt tethered to more than one man. I was allured by the way each held such a vastly different future. I was exceptionally fond of the grace in which she handled her confusion, and the boldness in which she conducted herself. In short, I’d come to adore her and envy her all the same. She had boundaries I lacked.

There wasn’t two hundred years in the Scottish highlands preventing me from making a decision, just the eighteen inches from my head to my heart.

I pulled the hood of my grey sweater over my unwashed hair and lay back down.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

I hadn’t ordered any delivery today, so there was no reason to answer.

I ignored it.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

“Go away!” I yelled down the hallway at whoever had the audacity to intrude on my misfortune, this week of all weeks.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Whoever it was pounded on my door so hard it rattled on its hinges.

“I said go away!” My temper had started to flare as my shout morphed into a scream of sorts.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

“Heads are going to roll,” I muttered to myself, as I threw back the blanket and climbed off the couch.

My black sweatpants that were too big pooled around my bare feet as I stalked towards the door.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

“For the love of all that is holy!” I hollered threw the copper.