Every Rose (31 page)

I’m back to hugging her tightly again when I hear her murmur, “Catholic, huh?”

I sit back and start gushing about how I found my way to the Catholic Church.

………………………………..……..........................

Now that I’ve gotten myself together a little, I know what I have to do. I call and make an appointment with Father Patty. When I show up, he gives me a vigorous hug and tells me he’s so sorry for my loss.

“Thank you, Father. I’m sorry I haven’t been by to see you sooner, but I just needed some time.” I tell him about Michael’s brother coming to see me and how I found out that he didn’t have a Catholic burial. “Is there something you can do about that?”

“Oh yes, of course,” he reassures me. I’m so relieved. That had become the most important thing to me all of the sudden.

“Thank you so much, Father.”

“Of course, of course. You had to be so shocked Lorraina as I was so shocked about it all. He was doing so well. But only God knows our plan and our fate. We have to believe that He knows best even in these unbelievably tragic situations like Michael’s.”

“Yes, Father. I hope one day I can understand that, but I have to admit I’m not there just yet.” He gives me a knowing smile. “Will you pray with me?”

“Of course,” he says as he invokes the Trinity and offers me words of wisdom and comfort.

………………………………………........................

After Father leaves Michael’s graveside. I just stare at it in a strange state of peace and disbelief. Father’s words were so beautiful, and I feel so blessed to have realized that Michael and I needed that.

I sit down on the grass beside his grave and start running through it all. Reliving my pain, my guilt, my mourning. Part of me feels like I don’t have the right to grieve because I wasn’t there for him in the end. I tell that part to shut up.

I end up lying down beside him and am surprised to see stars shining back at me. It hurts to experience that beauty without him. I need to go soon, but I’m just not ready yet.

My voice startles me after so much quiet for so long. “Michael, Michael. I miss you so much. Can you see me? Do you know how much you are loved and missed? I’m sorry, Michael. I’m so sorry. I wasted so much time that we could’ve had together.” A twisted laugh escapes me as I consider where my thoughts are headed. “Michael, you remember Heathcliff? I get it now. Really get it. I thought I got it before; but, no, I was clueless. I would give my very soul if you would haunt me for all eternity. Anything to have you near even if in only in my twisted and damned psyche.” I shake my head a little and relinquish that insane thought. “That’s not true, Michael. I wouldn’t give up my soul for that because then I wouldn’t get to be in Heaven with you. My time here is limited, and it will be over before I know it. I want eternal life with you. So, as hard it will be, I’m going to live a good life on this earth, trying every single day to be an amazing person, the person you saw in me so that God will see fit for us to spend eternity together.”

I tear up and wipe them away quickly. I feel like I’ve cried enough tears to last me a lifetime. Instead, I start to filter through all of my memories of us, of him, of his beauty, of his flaws, of his goodness.

I wake with a jolt. Disoriented for a moment, I blink rapidly. I slap myself on my forehead and start laughing uncontrollably. “Oh my…” I tsk. “Michael, you’ve turned me into Poe.” I wipe tears of laughter from my face and giggle anew as I imagine Michael and I laughing together one day over the fact that I’d fallen asleep next to his grave just like Poe used to do for his Virginia. Our time in Heaven was going to be amazing.

………………………………....................................

Today’s the day. The day I uphold my end of the bargain in more than one way. I open the door to the tattoo parlor and am assaulted by a bevy of emotions, most of them sensual in nature.

“Hey. What’s up?” One of the artists asks me.

“Hi. I’ve got an appointment with Brody,” I tell him.

“Alright, he’ll be right with you.”

I nod and take my paper from my purse and smooth it out. I hope he can do what I want since my paper is so crinkled. Chad did a great job with my roses, but I want Michael’s usual artist to put his name on me.

A very tall, very bald, very tattooed gentleman greets me, “Lorraina? Brody. How’s it going?” Brody thrusts his hand at me.

“It’s going well,” I tell him. I can hear the nerves in my voice. When I was here with Michael, it was like a dream. I barely even remember the pain. Now, I think, all I will remember is the pain.

“So whatcha got in mind?” He asks as I get seated in his chair. I hand him the paper and tell him that Chad did the roses for me already, but I need the name added to it.

“We can do that,” he assures me.

Before I know it, I’m done. It wasn’t even that painful. Brody hands me a mirror to see it from his perspective. I smile broadly. Michael’s neat little signature is forever etched on my body, and I just love it.

“You like?” He says as he cleans me up and bandages me.

“Definitely. How much do I owe you?” I ask as he moves to clean up, and I pull my stretchy skirt back over my hip.

“This one’s on the house, girl.”

“What do you mean? Why would you do that?” I laugh nervously.

“You’re Mike Bang’s Lorraina, right?”

My heart plummets and I close my eyes tight, willing myself not to get too emotional over those most beautiful of words. “Um…yeah,” I finally respond.

“Yeah, well, Mike and me go way back; so it’s the least I could do for his girl.”

“How…how did you know?” He chuckles and suddenly I realize how incredibly attractive he is. He’s not Michael beautiful, but really, who is? That thought is immediately followed by the thought that, for the rest of my life, I will probably compare every single male I meet to Michael.

“It may have had something do with the fact that I had to stare at your face for about thr
ee hours when I inked his last tattoo.” At my confused look, he continues. “You know? When he had that sketch of you and inked on his thigh.” I gasp and stare at him open-mouthed. “You didn’t know,” he states.

“No, I didn’t know.” I close
my eyes for a minute and let that image sink in. Michael sitting here, getting my face inked on his thigh. “What did it look like?” I finally manage to ask.

“You’re looking ri
ght at him with your hands folded under your cheek like you’re lying down about to go to sleep.” I nod my head up and down. I think I know the drawing. It was in the box. “Anyways, I have a picture of it. Besides his Mary, it was one of my favorite profiles that I’ve done. Wanna see it?”

All I can do is nod my head again. Would he ever stop gifting me with beautiful memories? Brody comes back over with a book open to many tattoos. My eyes seek out my profile. They land on it pretty quickly. I look so beautiful on Michael’s copper skin. I’m inked in all black except for my eyes. My emerald eyes stare out at me. It looks like a more beautiful version of me. “Wow! I look beautiful!” I exclaim without thinking as I run my fingers over his thigh and my face.

“Yeah. He’s one talented mother—” He breaks off and blushes a little when my eyes shoot up to his. “Uh…sorry. I tried to get him to go into the business, but he had other plans.”

“Thank you for sharing that with me.” I reluctantly draw my fingers away from the picture.

“Hey, you want this copy?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I can get another one printed. No problem.”

“Thank you so much,” I gush.

I hold the picture to my chest as I say my goodbyes and make my way out to my car. I lay my head down on my steering wheel and just focus on breathing. Shit! I was suddenly so torn over leaving this town. What if there were more memories of Michael just waiting for me to discover them. Suddenly, my thought about Michael haunting me didn’t seem so crazy.

I stare at myself on his thigh and imagine him lying down to go to sleep at night and caressing my face while we were apart. Staring at me while he talked to me on the phone. I shiver and try to rub away the sudden onslaught of goose bumps covering my flesh. I try to focus on what I need to do now.

I take the picture and place it in my visor next to my absolute favorite rose that he sketched for me…well, one of my favorites…and a couple of candid shots of him and us. Those pictures would make for some interesting conversation for Jerome and me on our way to New York.

……………….………….………………..................

I watch as the last rays of the sun snake out over the Gulf. I have never seen a sunset like the ones I’ve seen here. They are absolutely breathtaking. I’d come here to make my peace with my Point Cadet Michael and reminisce over the spectacular memories we made here. It was where we’d spent our first quasi-perpetual night.

I’m puzzled over the fact that I’m a little torn up to be leaving this place this time. I’ve never had a problem going after what I’ve wanted even if that led me away from here, but I feel as I’ve made peace with so many things and people that had me dreading this place. I almost don’t want to go, but I know this is what Michael would want for me, and I want it for myself so much.

I close my eyes for a moment and whisper some words to him. I walk closer to the water for a second and crane my neck to see the remnant rays. Satisfied that I had, in fact, viewed my last sunset here for a while, I start towards my car and pause by our little oak tree that I so adored. I don’t know what it is about this little tree that I so connect with. Oak and beach just don’t seem to go together, but it just works here.

My eyes widen with disbelief as I catch a glimpse of a carving. I squint and move in closer, struggling to make out the carving on the tree. Unbelievable! There he goes again. Carved on the little tree are our initials. I run my finger over the design. The raised oak makes up a combination of our initials. In the middle is an M. On one side is a backwards L conjoined with the M and on the other side of the M is a forward facing L. He had made our initials mirror images of one another. I marvel at them until I can barely see them.

The sudden darkness surrounding me prompts me to dash to get my car and dig my camera out of one of my already packed bags. I sprint back and snap several pictures of the carving. It looks like behind the initials is a setting sun with all its rays surrounding it. I decide that it will be my next tattoo. I guess what they say is true. Tattoos really are addictive. My ink from my last isn’t even dry yet.

I head back to my car and shift my box of Michael’s things to the backseat so that my brother and I will both fit up front. For some crazy reason, he wants to drive through the night. I glance up at the impromptu collage that covers my visor and sigh. I’m happy that my brother is going with me. He’s so excited, but I would give anything if it were Michael.

As I pull out onto the highway, I smile as I feel the burn of the addition to my Michael tattoo; and I grin even bigger when I anticipate the sting of my future Michael tattoo. I frown a little as I realize that I’m sure, eventually, I’ll find someone to love and someone who loves me. I’m not naïve enough to believe that I can spend the rest of my alone as much as the thought of being with anyone repulses me. I grin again, though, as I realize that whoever loves me will have to love my Michael too because he will be with me in almost every way possible—forever.

###

In Loving and Precious Memory of

Michael Leon Bang

This book is dedicated to Michael's memory. Some events were inspired by real events; and, of course, I named my main character after his inspiration. But my Michael is a work of fiction and my imagination.

To my soul mate best friend, Bobbie Myers, without your encouragement and enthusiasm, this wouldn't have been near as exciting to write. You were with me every joyful and frustrating step of the way. Your belief in my abilities kept me from succumbing to self-doubt and writer's block. And thank you for writing my biography!

To my husband and best friend, Sean, thank you so much for always believing in me. No matter what crazy ideas I've come up with over the years, you've always been the first on board and the most encouraging.

To my sons, Austin and Nolan, you inspire me everyday to be my best and do my best. Nothing in this world has made me prouder than calling myself your mama.

I love ya'll so much!

Many members of my family inspire me on a daily basis, but none more than my momma, Marie McAdams. I'm so grateful for your love, support, and respect. I hope I made you proud. I love you.

Finally, to my many students over the years who've supported me and inspired me, when I think of you, tears brimming with gratefulness; love; and respect spring to my eyes. I'm so proud to call myself your teacher, and I'll always call you my student. A special shout out to BHS Class of 2017!

About the author

For as long as she can remember, Lynetta Halat has lived to read and has written countless stories and plays since she was a young girl. A teacher by day
and an avid reader and closet writer by night, she has always dreamt of penning books that people could connect with and remember; and her first novel,
Every Rose
, is the perfect catalyst to launch her into the world of publishing. Her love of the English language prompted her to pursue a Master's degree in English from Old Dominion University in Virginia. A self-proclaimed “Coast Girl,” she lives in Mississippi with her adorable husband, two amazing sons, and two loveable dogs. She is currently at work on her second book.