Crashing Back Down (2 page)

Walker was my most frequent visitor, pretty much like clockwork. Every Sunday at noon, I expected to see his bright green eyes light up when I opened my door. He was going through his own process of grief and loss. I think he needed the company as much as I did.

Walker Eastman was Randy's right hand man ever since they pledged their fraternity. He was even overseas with Randy when the military-deemed-accident had happened.  There were some faulty cables that snapped when the parachute tried to open. Needless to say, there was no condolence letter good enough from the military to cool my anger and sorrow. All of us came hurtling down to earth that day. Walker was the only one who never said the wrong thing, or pressured me into talking. I welcomed his company warmly, to my surprise. Mostly we just sat, drank coffee and watched TV; simple yet perfect.

When I finally coaxed my eyes to open, I read eleven-thirty on my alarm clock and sighed, looking at all of the pamphlets from all of the different organizations supposed to help me with my grief.  I rolled my eyes and shoved them out of my mind, allowing myself to ignore them for a little bit longer. Knowing Walker would be showing up sooner than I wanted, I fought through my down comforter to find my phone.
Maybe he won't mind missing one visit.
I really was not in the mood for cheering up that morning.

Once my phone was finally in my hand, I fumbled through my contacts, clicking on his name. Before I could even rethink the call, Walker was on the other end declining my suggestion for a rain check. Right as I started to protest, I heard my front door slam shut. He hung up as he entered my room, his brawny arms carrying a box of donuts and coffee. I couldn't help but smile, a little relieved Walker was just as stubborn as I was.

I felt like it was the first time I’d truly opened my eyes in weeks and to my horror, I realized how disheveled I looked, and how messy my room was. My baby blue carpet was almost entirely hidden under dirty clothes. My makeup lined up on top of the dresser was a huge mess and I hadn’t even made it out of my bed yet. I was wrapped up in the covers with all the pillows thrown on the floor. Randy always made fun of me for being a ‘pillow tosser’ in my sleep. I wasn’t even allowed to have beverages on my nightstand for fear of knocking them off in the middle of the night.

I cringed with shame from the mess and my wretched appearance, "Walker, I'm not even dressed. I'm sure I look like hell!” I shrieked, diving back under my blanket. I was in one of Randy’s old Army shirts, and basketball shorts, makeup still on from the night before and smudged all over my eyes. My dark-brown hair must have looked like a lion’s mane, a tangled mess. I felt it, half-matted to the side of my face.

I could hear Walker’s deep southern drawl through the comforter, "Come on Mags, I've seen you at your worst. Trust me, you look like an angel compared to a few months ago."

The time Walker referred to were our darkest hours that we were just starting to break away from. The few months prior were riddled with sleepless nights and bedridden days; we were both walking dead. During that terrible stint, we spent a lot of time holding onto each other for dear life, like it was the only thing keeping our world from shattering around us.

He climbed onto the foot of my king-sized bed, handed me my black coffee and set out the food carefully. "How about breakfast in bed and a movie?" He pulled
Almost Famous
out of his jacket pocket and tossed me a smirk. The smell of the bitter coffee made my mood lift a little, and I peeked out from under my blankets.
There is no way I can turn down that smile, my favorite movie, and breakfast bribery.

"How could I say no to an offer like that?" I jumped out of my bed, tousled my hair a little, attempting to tame it slightly, and put all of the pillows back onto the bed while Walker started the movie and threw his black leather jacket onto the floor.

We climbed under the covers, cuddling down to have an awesome breakfast with good company. Walker’s shoulder cradled my head as I slurped coffee from the plastic lid, and let my eyes wander over his muscular, tattooed arms. I had been with him and Randy for almost every one of their ink sessions. I could only imagine the swallows on Walker’s chiseled chest that he gotten about a month after we met. He was handsome, tall and had an erotic stare that could make any girl wet within seconds. I never knew why he just jumped around from girl to girl, not even able to define monogamy. Randy always said being promiscuous was just in Walker’s nature, and I never questioned it further.

It was comforting to have someone fill the other side of the bed. We watched the movie, reciting every line, and munched away on the glazed treats. When the credits started to roll, Walker pulled me to him tighter; he could always tell when the tears were about to start. I breathed in his mix of salty tears and men's cologne, a smell that had become a little too comforting to me recently. We lay silently while the credits played out, the movie soundtrack hushed in the background of our embrace.

When the room went silent, I buried my face into Walker’s chest a little harder, "You'll never know how much it means to me that you come here every week," I choked, unable to contain my emotions any longer. His thumb battled the tears cascading down my exposed cheek.

Walker’s big green eyes were soft, a look rarely seen from the hard-ass-country-boy. Knowing that made his kind face and words mean so much more to me. "I'll never miss our Sunday tradition. It's the best part of my week. You still don't know how much it helps me too."

The sincerity of his words spread over Walker’s face, and again, he stunned me. His chiseled jaw line, jet black hair, and olive skin made his light eyes stand out, and when he was vulnerable to emotion, it made everything that much more handsome.

I knew our time was going to get cut short because of my Father-in-law, Jim’s, birthday party that evening.  Walker had promised Liz, my mother-in-law, that he would help her with the planning and getting everything prepared, but I was not ready for Walker to pull away as quickly as he did. Breaking our lingering stare, Walker looked over to my clock on my nightstand. "Mags, I got to head out. Liz needs me to pick the cake up for Jim's party tonight …”

Trailing off, I watched his eyes scan over the pamphlets scattered next to my clock.  Picking a few up, he turned to me with concern and frustration spreading like wild fire across his face, his green eyes darkening and his jaw flexing, burning away the loving glare I was enjoying so much. “Mags.” He sighed and shook his head for a moment. “You promised.”

I gaped at him, taking the pamphlets out of his hand.  I looked down at a few terrible titles like, ‘How to Cope with the Loss of a Spouse’ and ‘It’s Okay to Grieve,’ suddenly feeling like I was going to lose my breakfast. I took the lot of them and shoved them away in the drawer of my nightstand. “Yeah, I know … but I just want to do this on my own. Don’t worry, I set up an appointment with someone.” I faked a smile, and it seemed like enough of an answer for Walker.

He stood up and stretched. “Alright, as long as you’re taking care of yourself, I’m happy. See you tonight?”

Trying to push away my frustration, I let my mind wander back to our relaxing morning. "Tell Liz I'll be there at eight, unless she needs help with anything."

"Okay, I'll let her know." And with a quick kiss to my forehead, he was out the door. I hated watching anyone walk away from me. Being alive was hard enough, but alone, it was almost unbearable. As Walker shut my front door, I curled up in a ball on my bed and let hot tears pour again from my aching eyes. The thought of having to spend time with a large group of people that night was almost too overwhelming. I longed to run away and hide from life for the rest of the day. It was a terrible coping mechanism I had developed, but it was effective. I cried harder when I figured there was no escape from our plans, and buried my face deep into my pillow.

Randy grew up down the street from where we ended up purchasing our home. He always said family needed to be close for when our kids were growing up. Now, silently I thanked him for forcing me into this house five minutes from the in-laws, because I needed them as a different type of support system than expected. The City of Orlando had really turned into home for me. My heart died there, and I was determined to revive it there eventually. It was what Randy would have wanted. He would have been so happy to know my mom moved here to help take care of me, and that Walker had stayed, too. "A support system is important, Mags. It doesn’t always have to be you against the world, ya know."

            My phone buzzed in my hand, bringing me back from my pity party and daydreams of my husband. I looked down to find a message from my mother-in-law, Liz:

Don't worry; Walker and I are taking care of everything. See you at eight.

            I sighed, rubbed my eyes and dragged myself out of bed. The clock said six, and even though I could walk to their house, I figured I need the extra time to start putting effort in my appearance since it had been so long since I cared what I looked like. I made my way into the bathroom and let the water start to get boiling hot while I sat on the toilet, waiting.

My mind tripped back to my amazing in-laws, and how important they had become to me, especially with the terrible situation we found ourselves in. Liz and Jim McManus had been more than just in-laws to me ever since Randy and I first started dating, and I owed it to them to put on a brave face. Even though they lost their son, they had been instrumental in bringing me through my grief that I worried they didn’t get the chance they deserved to grieve themselves. The shame made it difficult to even look into their eyes most of the time. It was unbearable to walk around with all the different forms of guilt inside me. I knew I had to get better for everyone’s sake.
Today can be the beginning of a brand new start.

As I got into the shower I could hear Randy's voice. "I married one hell of a woman, you know that, baby?" I smirked as I massaged shampoo into my scalp. Those are the memories I never got used to being reminded of. All of the little things he would to do to make sure I knew he loved me, that he belonged to me. I wished I had told him more how much they meant, how much he meant to me.
I miss you so much it hurts
. The hot water rushed over my pink skin, while steam floated out over the curtain. I stood, holding myself, letting the water run over my body for a few moments, before mustering up the courage to step onto the cold tile floor.

Without even drying myself, I tossed my hair up in one towel and then wrapped another around my dripping body. Looking in the mirror over my sink, I was disgusted at the black, puffy circles around my eyes, and how hollow my cheek bones were.

Skulking back into my room, shuffling my feet along my fluffy carpet, I grabbed my makeup and turned on my flat iron. I sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the closet door mirror and began to apply eyeliner. This had become a habit from the first time I slept over at Randy's room in the fraternity house. I would always take my shower first, and while I got ready, Randy would wash up. The only place for me to be able to do my primping was on his floor, sitting Indian-style in front of a full-length mirror propped up against the wall Randy bought for me after I complained about not being able to do makeup in a fogged-up mirror.

Once my eyes were just the perfect blend of smoky gray and black, my natural curls burned into submission, I took one last look at myself in the mirror, again disgusted with my appearance. I still felt like an empty shell. It was terrible to see on my face. The lack of sleep, improper nutrition and guilt had started to take a noticeable toll. I grabbed my blush and bronzer, blending my cheeks more to hide my uncharacteristically pale skin. One last look in the mirror, I closed my makeup kit.
This is going to have to do
;
makeup can only hide so much
.

I rummaged through my closet, trying to find something to wear. All the way in the back, I found a dress that still had the tags on it from right after Randy got deployed. I had a lot of free time back then, and usually filled the void with shopping with Cali, mostly for things I had yet to wear. I yanked the dress off the hanger, slipped it over my head and pulled on a pair of wedges.
Good enough.

I sighed and trudged down the stairs to the freezer, taking my black-labeled savior out of his icy home. I was going to need all the help possible to put on a brave, put-together face, and whiskey was my known choice for liquid courage.
Here goes nothing.
I took one big, deep breath and headed out my front door.

W
hen my feet planted on the McManus’ front porch, a rush of warmth folded over me, almost like putting on a comfortable sweater. I always loved my in-laws, and I was truly happy I made the effort to come. Jim was hitting the big six-zero. The number had never fazed him; as he would put it, “you’re only as old as you feel.” His optimism was something I always admired, but his best feature was his laugh. He was always cracking jokes, even making himself roll on the floor from time to time. Jim had one of the best booming, barreling hoots I ever heard. He was known to cry, kick his feet up and cry hysterically during some of his fits. He was a big, burly man with a laugh that matched him pound for pound, bellowing through the huge smile he always wore.