Page 451 of One More Kiss

ETHAN

She called me E,and it nearly destroyed me. I was seconds away from crumbling.

It’s been too long since I heard the nickname Alana used. Considering the anniversary of her death is upon me, waiting to destroy me from the inside out, it was too much to hear coming from Vada’s voice.

As soon as I tensed and turned to flick the lights off, I knew she could tell something was bothering me. She assumed it was what she said about getting used to this—us being together—hell, she even apologized for saying it, but I was too lost in my own head to speak.

She didn’t know that being called E was the nickname my late wife had for me; she couldn’t have, considering I haven’t divulged that part of my life to her. It was nothing more than a coincidence, and I wish I could go back and tell her my reaction had nothing to do with her and everything to do with my past, but I was caught off guard.

After Vada falls asleep in my arms, I slide out of bed, put on my clothes, and quietly leave. For hours, I sit in the tower and replay my life and all the events that led me to this very moment. I sit long enough to watch the sun barely peek over the horizon. Pink and purple hues paint across the sky in long painters’ wisps, and I feel like I’m smothering in my thoughts to the point where I need some fresh air.

Putting on my shoes, I grab the keys to my car because driving sometimes helps clear my mind. I head down familiar streets, but nothing looks the same. Though I have nowhere to go, I follow pavement until I’m driving under the Magnolia Cemetery archway. As soon as I pull in, a heavy weight presses on my chest.

Every year on this day I visit, even though it brings me back to all those memories and makes me miss them even more. It was hard to come here at first, especially that first year, but after a few times, it became a little easier. Though being here will never be considered easy.

Sucking in a deep breath, I park at the edge of the street and walk across the plush grass to the oak trees by the river. As soon as I see the black marble of Alana’s headstone, I almost fall to my knees.

No matter how much time passes, seeing their names engraved in stone always brings me back to the moment in the hospital when I found out Alana was gone. The only sliver of happiness I felt was knowing I had a piece of Alana in Paris until my sweet baby girl passed away soon after.

The pain in my heart is almost too much to bear as I read their names, Alana and Paris Rochester, together. Burying my wife and child made me second guess everything about life, especially the whys.

“My girls,” I whisper softly, tracing their names with my finger on the cool stone. It was never supposed to be like this. We were supposed to have a handful of kids and grow old and happy together in our house on the small hill by the creek. I was supposed to watch my daughter take her first steps, hear her say her first words, watch her play at the playground, and go to her first day of kindergarten.

So many things that were taken from me.

I’ll forever be robbed of those memories and of ones I’ll never be able to experience. Her walking across the stage to graduate high school, driving her to college, and eventually walking her down the aisle.

Covering my face with my hands, I try to get a hold of myself, but it’s a losing battle. The should-have-beens are enough to drive me crazy.

Sitting here under the oak tree is the only time I allow myself to fully give in to what happened. At the funerals, I was in a perpetual state of shock. Hell, for the last five years I have been. Most of the time, I try to keep my pain and loss buried deep. But being here, like this, there’s no escaping my reality. I’d give anything to be able to hold the two of them again.

The cool morning breeze brushes over my skin, and I wish it could take all the pain away, but it never does. When I’m here, it’s as if time stands completely still.

“Aunt Millie says you’d want me to be happy.” I wait as if I’m going to hear her voice speak back to me. Nothing but the wind rustling the leaves on the trees can be heard.

“I know deep in my heart you’d want me to be happy and continue living my life, but I don’t know if I can. Every day, I think about you. I think about Paris. I think about what we could have had. Where the three of us would be right now at this very moment. The studio is everything you wished it would be. It’s doing so well, and I know you’d be proud.”

A single tear streams down my face and splashes on my hand. I didn’t even realize I was crying. I tell myself that out here, it’s okay to feel something. It’s okay to let those emotions take ahold of me. I close my eyes and find what I’m trying to say.

“I met someone.” I let out a stifled laugh. “And you’d love her. She doesn’t take my shit or let me say whatever I want. Aunt Millie met her too and basically gave her approval, but you know how she is—she likes anyone who isn’t afraid to call me out on my shit.”

Many times, Aunt Millie and Alana would gang up against me, and I find myself smiling about it now. I know it’s been five long years of trying to find a way to cope and heal the shattered pieces of my heart, but this is the first time I’ve ever spoken those words. Moving on—I’ve been against it. However, being here today, knowing Vada is back at the cottage waiting for me, feels different this time.

“I’ll always love you and our baby, Alana.” But I know she knew that. No matter what happens in my life, Alana and Paris will hold a special place in my heart—always and forever. Trying to pick up the pieces and move on doesn’t mean I’ll forget them. I have to remind myself this even though Mama has told me that a million times.

“I don’t know what to do,” I say, wishing she were here. “I just…I wish you could tell me that it was okay, that you’d want me to move on so I’d stop feeling guilty at the thought of it.” I sit and wait, but not surprisingly, nothing miraculous happens. After a while, the sun beams down on my skin, and I know it’s time to go. I look at the grave one more time before I walk back to my car.

By the time I make it home, I’m emotionally and physically exhausted. I sit on the couch and fall asleep thinking of her.

Alana walks through the kitchen with a smile on her face, leaning against the doorway. I rub my eyes, not believing what I’m seeing.

“I know I’m dreaming,” I say.

Walking across the room, she sits next to me. I glance down and see the wedding ring on her finger, and somehow mine is there, too. Though I wore it for years after her death, I stopped wearing it when I almost lost it while working on a piece. I wanted to keep it close to me still, so I keep it in the drawer of my nightstand along with Paris’ footprints.

She grabs my hand and gives me a wink. “Ethan,” she says, in that tone I was so used to hearing.

I look into her blue eyes, pulling her into my arms, never wanting to wake, never wanting to let go.

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