Whiskey and Country

20

DAHLIA

Nick’s hands stayed anchored to my waist as I sang the lyrics of a song I hadn’t performed in a while. The entire time, I had to force my focus back to the music, dizzy after breathing his essence in. Everything that made him who he was. There was a well of grief in him. I recognized the signs. I could feel his pain now, the shadow of sorrow that marred his eyes and tensed his arms around me. Even more after the song was done and I relaxed into his body. The song had triggered one of his memories, I could tell. His arms circled my waist, keeping me close, as if he feared I could vanish. His heartbeat a steady melody I felt through my back. Something happened to him. Had he gone through some life-changing experiences? Just like me. When I lost Jeff, pregnant with Jack.

Life put him on my road. For a reason bigger than us.

Something in me felt right in his presence as if I was meant to be a part of his life and he, of mine. This moment together, this air we breathed, it felt right too.

My heart had loved before and had splintered with agonizing pain. From then on, I’d lived only for Jack. And Carter. Because while I cared for those I loved the most, I forgot about my own suffering. The fissures scarring my heart. It took me years to start living for me again. To give room in my life to the happiness I deserved too. To enjoy each breath of fresh air filling my lungs. In a way, I could see the same struggle in Nick. The tug of war between dwelling in grief or living life to the fullest.

We stayed in the moment for a long time, his thumb grazing my abdomen with distracted caresses. Against the firm chest, my body relaxed and my mind calmed.

Our silence connected us, enveloping us in an oyster of peace. Whatever tomorrow brought, today was meant to be. I turned my head to look at him. His smile reached the innermost end of my heart.

Something I’d been wanting to talk to him for a while but wanted the moment to present itself. Butterflies woke up in my chest. With a deep inhale, I looked straight ahead and whispered, “Remember the day we met? You told me about your friend who died…” I paused. Nick’s hold on me stiffened. “I just wanted to say. I understand. Some aches in this world seem like they have the power to break us in two, yet we must stay strong. I’ve been there. So, if you ever wanna talk about it, you don’t ever have to, but if you did want to, then I’m here. One call and I would leave everything to be with you. Even if you didn’t want to speak, but just wanted me to be there to share your silence. I am here, okay? I know how it feels. I’ve been there.”

The strokes of his fingers stilled at my words. I placed my hands gently on his, waiting out his grief, his locked arms around me, as it poured in the vibes between us. I stayed silent. The air tautened with tension, then captured its prisoners. Nick sighed and allowed me in his sacred orb, listening to his unsaid words as my mind swam in the memories of the trauma of my husband’s sudden death that shook my core.

In a hushed tone, I explained, “When Jeff died, I withdrew into myself for months, unwilling to accept anybody else’s support. But once I did, it helped with the grief. With the emotional overload. I’m extending the offer. Paying it forward.”

For a beat, I let the words sink in. Moving closer, Nick rested his forehead in the crook of my neck.

I pinched my lips together, willing my own emotions to slacken their grip around my heart. I hadn’t revisited the struggle of Jeff’s death in a long while. Nick’s hands splayed on my stomach, his warm palms shooting their heat through me, holding me closer. With me in his arms and these shared emotions binding us stronger, we stayed silent, grieving our past experiences.

For a long while, I didn’t know how long, we stayed like this. Time had no meaning, it just moved around us, helped us to heal. A gentle kiss on the nape of my neck. The fear prickling my insides, the idea I had overstepped, died. Nick understood. He’d accepted my soul as it had spoken to his.

With a deep breath in, I pulled away from him and turned around.

With my fingertips, I pushed the tendrils of his hair away from his forehead, taking in the sliver of pain in his eyes and acceptance tinting his visage.

With both hands, I framed his face, my thumbs rubbing his scruffy jaw. “Don’t lock it all inside when it gets to be too much. Promise me you’ll find someone to share it, okay? Even if it’s with your silence.”

His eyes slowly met mine, and I saw the relief my words brought. His chest expanded with a deep intake of air, and he nodded.

Little by little, I watched as pain melted away, and his expression smoothened in my grip.

When our gazes joined again, something shone in his whiskey-dark irises.

“Thanks, Dahlia.”

He closed his eyes, and his lips connected with my forehead, resting there for a long minute, as if our contact could heal his bruised heart.