Bloom (8 page)

Vasili wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pushed my arm in uncomfortable positions. “Ouch.”

“Sorry,” he said. “But if you don’t do those stretches it’s bad for your muscles and your skin. You have to muster through the pain for the end result.”

I turned and faced him. “What is the end result? My doctor has a bunch of skin grafting plans for me. He’s talking about plastic surgery every time I see him. I don’t want that. I don’t want to be fake.” I sighed. “Everyone says I’m crazy. To just do it and get it over with. But what do I want the end result to be? I’ve been thinking a lot about this.”

Vasili shrugged. “You lost me.”

“Everything with Anastasia. Then James and Abby. I don’t know.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I laughed. “I don’t know. Do I want my end result to be fake perfection? Just another attempt to appear like the world wants me to? Do I want to feel safe and pretty and loved?” I turned and faced the mirror, taking in my new self. “Or do I want to embrace who I am now and tell the world to bug off?”

He laughed. “Bug off?”

I smirked. “What? You like that?”

“Sounds fierce.” He touched my shoulder. “Let’s finish up, okay?”

We did a few last stretches and he walked me to the door.

“Thank you for everything you’re doing for my niece.” He turned the doorknob. “It means a lot to me. She looks up to you a lot.”

“I look up to her.”

He smiled. We were close enough that I could smell his shampoo. I wondered if a man like him would ever love me, then shoved the thought away. I didn’t need love. Or a man. I needed to find rest with myself. My new self.

I walked down the hallway and Vasili called out, “See ya tonight.”

I waved and continued out the door. Yes, I forgot about tonight. Rehearsals for
It’s a Wonderful Life
. I’d practiced my lines in bed for the last three weeks. I know it was something fun for a little girl, but I took it quite seriously. Even made Ella read lines with me. She was pretty good too.

Two weeks left until Christmas Eve.

We all sat around
in the living room of Mama Koursa
ris’ house again. Vasili stumbled over his lines as everyone laughed. I didn’t buy it though. He wanted to make us laugh. Lighten the mood. Plus, I had a feeling he wanted to surprise us on opening night with a phenomenal performance. I could tell. He definitely knew how to act. The shy ones were always the best ones.

We finished the last of it when Natalie said, “So will Vasili and Sarah need to kiss in this?”

“No,” he said. “I wouldn’t do that.”

I admired his faithfulness, but his quick response dampened my heart. Did he find me that unappealing? But he never seemed to push the plastic surgery thoughts. He was one of the only people who encouraged me to do whatever made me happiest, not prettiest.

“Sarah?” Sophia snapped her fingers in front of my face. “You in there?”

I nodded. “I’m just tired.”

“I had to order her casket today.”

“What?” I reached for her hand. “Oh, Sophia.”

Her bottom lip trembled. “Yanni barely leaves her bedside. As hard as it is for me, somehow I think it’s worse for him. He won’t plan her funeral with me. I think he’s in denial.”

“I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine.”

“She’s so happy, Sarah.” She crossed her arms and touched her chin to her shoulder. “She doesn’t need me. Every time I tell her, ‘It’s okay, dear. Cry on my shoulder if you need to,’ she tells me that she’s okay and doesn’t need to cry. I don’t understand why someone so young and beautiful and full of life needs to die so young.”

Vasili leaned into Sophia. “Death is only a stage of life. In fact, it marks the beginning of true life.”

She sniffed and nodded, then fell into his arms. He pressed her head into his chest and held her as she wept. I rested my head against hers and cried with her. Within minutes, the entire family was crowded around. A tight, warm group hug. We stayed there for a while. Feeling the pain of a mother losing her baby. Until she finally lifted her head and inhaled. No one said a word after that. We didn’t need to. It was understood.

As much as the pain seared the hidden recesses of my heart, I walked out of their house feeling alive. One step closer to being whole. It was then that I realized the joy of pain. The beauty in struggle. Sometimes the most human thing we can do is struggle. Together. Fighting for goodness and love through blood, sweat, and tears. Sometimes the moments we are most in tune with reality are not the fun times where we dance under street lights high on life, but the moments when we weep. For others. For ourselves. When we realize that the tears dripping from our eyes invisibly flow over the darkest parts of us, washing away the stains and revealing beauty we never knew we had. Real, strong beauty not shaken by even the cruelest of flames. Humble beauty. Like the earth anticipating the moistening of spring’s tears, the heart, parched by its own selfishness, awaits these moments. These moments we so often push away and discard, not realizing that it’s the tears which cleanse and enliven our hearts.

I sat in my car. And I didn’t wipe my face this time. I let my tears soak into my cheeks. Dwelling there. Cleansing me. Renewing me. I smiled and drove away, knowing that for the first time in my life ... I felt a radiance the world and its cutting stares could not muddy.

I felt beautiful.

Anastasia mainly stayed in bed. She could still get up and walk if she wanted to, but her health had declined so severely that hospice nurses aided Sophia each day until sunset. Her favorite nurse, Laura, was a lovely woman from England who embraced the family with warm gentleness.

After a long day at her bedside, I kissed her sleeping forehead and whispered, “I love you,” then hugged Yanni, Sophia, and even Laura. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I promised Ella I’d come back early to greet Tylissa.” My phone played
Canon in D
. “And there she is now.”

“Thank you,” Sophia said.

Yanni nodded in agreement.

“No need to thank me for loving someone so easy to love.”

Laura walked me to the door.

“How long do you think she has?” I whispered.

“Honestly, it’s difficult to say. Normally when they stop eating we see a steep curve, but right now she’s hanging on and eating her veggies.”

I tried to smile. “It’s not painful, right?”

“Perhaps a bit, but not too much. She’s on medication and it should see her through to the end.”

I looked down. The end. More like the beginning of life outside the cocoon according to Vasili. “Thank you, Laura. You’re a wonderful nurse.”

“No need to thank me for loving someone so easy to love.” She winked.

We both smiled as she closed the front door behind me.

The drive home was easy. Uneventful. I considered my own life, wondering how it would end. When it would end. Who would be at my bedside? Ella barely left my side at the burn unit. I’m sure she’d be there. Who else, I had no idea.

I didn’t see Tylissa’s car when I parked. Phew. For some reason Ella insisted I get home before Tylissa. I never won any awards for being on time, but didn’t like disappointing others either. Bad habit I always said I’d break, yet didn’t.

I opened the front door and the darkness lit up like an electrical shock had zapped the house. I screamed as a flashback of the fire coursed my mind and dozens of smiling faces yelled, “Surprise!”

My mind caught up with my eyes. People. Faces. Ella. Tylissa. Vasili. Natalie. Kyriakos. Eleni. Dee. Derek. Miranda. Gavin. Matt. Lydia. Mom. Dad. Kelly. Nicole. And more. So many more. Why?

“You look shocked,” Ella hugged me. “Happy birthday, sweet friend.”

“Birthday?” I said. “Mine?”

“You’ve been so preoccupied with Anastasia that you forgot your own birthday. You made this easy.”

The happy faces were yelling surprise for me? “Wow.”

Everyone laughed.

“Oh, dear. I think I’m gonna cry. No one has ever—“

“We love you.” My mother stepped up to me with tears in her eyes. “If anyone deserves this, it’s you.”

She embraced me as my father stood behind her, waiting. He never showed much emotion, but the way he hung his hands nervously at his sides showed me he cared. When Mom let go, Dad hugged me and kissed my forehead. “You’re still my baby, Sarah. So glad to have you back.”

“I miss you both so much.” I looked around the room. “I don’t know what to say guys. Thank you. All of you.”

“Alright.” Matt clapped his hands together. “Time to eat.”

Everyone laughed, drawing the attention away from me. Perfect timing. I was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable.

Each person waited in line to fill their plates with delicious food. Ella, as always, gave her speech about local animal products from humane sources. My parents sat down next to my grandmother, who I didn’t notice until now. We smiled at each other and I sat beside her as I ate. She couldn’t speak much after her stroke, but she nodded as though she were listening as I recalled childhood memories with her. Such a precious woman.

I tossed my plate in the trash and leaned against the dining room entryway, watching as my friends and family mingled in the living room.

Vasili nodded to me. I couldn’t miss his eyes amidst a sea of people if I tried. Unusual for a Greek man to have such bright eyes. Especially bright considering his dark eyelashes. Like a mix of sky and land. What am I doing? I thought. He’s taken. And I’m nowhere near as pretty as his fiancé. He’s my brother, I reminded myself as he waved me over.

“Hey,”, I said, suddenly dazed. All of this feeling normal stuff was starting to make me feel ... normal again.

“Happy birthday.” He handed me a small bag. “Open it. It’s from me and a special little girl who wished she could be here.”

I unfolded the tissue paper and pulled out a frame. A picture of Anastasia and me. Framed by aqua matting shaped like a heart. A quote just below it read:

The best and most beautiful things in the
world cannot be seen or even touched.
They must be felt with the heart.
Helen Keller

I stared at the photograph of our two scarred faces side-by-side, taking in the simple, yet profound, truth of the quote below it. Yes, I believed it to be true. I experienced it personally.

Helen Keller said it as a little girl with a dirty dress and windblown hair would say. Or a blind person who can only feel with the hands and heart would say. Or anyone without the tainted views of our society would say.

True beauty is not in the eye of the beholder. It cannot be held. By the eyes or the hands. It can only be experienced by those with a ripe, humble heart. And just when you think you’ve wrapped your hands around it ... it slips out of your hand like sand through a sieve.

“Thank you.” I held the frame against my chest. “This means more to me than I can express.”

He tapped the picture. “I didn’t know you before. So I’m only speaking from what I know now, but the two girls in this picture are the most beautiful people I’ve ever known.”

I tried to speak.

“I mean that.” He walked away, brushing my shoulder. His subtle cologne lingered minutes after he passed.

I didn’t know what to say or feel after that. All I know is the rest of the night people kept saying to me, “Your smile is brighter than usual.”

Perhaps. Or perhaps they saw the effects of a woman who had finally found contentment, regardless of outward circumstances.

I enjoyed the evening, meandering from friend to family to friend. Laughing about the past and clinking glasses to the future. Then I thought of Anastasia. Leaving the world.

I hid away in the kitchen and texted Sophia. She eased my worries. Anastasia was awake and happy as usual.

“You okay?” Ella said.

“Just checking on Anastasia.” I set my drink on the kitchen counter. “You know, I realized it doesn’t matter how many people love us throughout our lives. I’ve spent my life trying to pretend to be perfect, thinking I was making people happy. It’s all fake though. And it doesn’t matter how many people show up at our funerals. Since I was a kid, I had this strange preoccupation with my funeral. Wondering how many people loved me enough to show up. How stupid of me, really. Take Anastasia, for example. I’m sure some people will show up who barely even know her, not because they loved her or even knew her. Maybe they’re just a friend of the family. What really matters is not how many people kiss our cold hands as we lie in a casket, but how many hearts we’ve warmed while alive. And you know, the little imprints we leave on the hearts of others may go unnoticed sometimes, but not even death can erase them.”

Ella raised her eyebrows. “Wow, Sarah.” She wrapped her arms around me. “Welcome back.”