“What’s up?” I ask timidly, not sure if I really want to know the answer.
He reaches out and smooths his hand atop my hair, his eyes soft and calm. “The night we discussed our bucket lists, everything got a little crazy after I asked you to marry me, and we never got back to the final thing on your list.”
My breath hitches and my pulse stalls. We weren’t supposed to revisit this. I’m happy with only crossing off four.
“So I found your list crumpled up in the garbage,” he continues, “and I’m sure you’d rather not have this conversation, but you wrote what you did for a reason.”
I press my hand to his chest and shake my head. “Tavian, it’s not necess—”
“You’re wrong. It is fucking necessary.” He grabs my wrist, careful not to hurt me, but forceful enough to show me he means business, and locks his electric blue gaze on mine. “If April 23rd of next year is in fact our date, we go with no regrets. No guilt, no uncertainty, no reservations. And if you want to go home to Houston one more time, whatever the reason is, then we’re there.”
“Tavian—” I try to argue, but once again, I’m shut down. This time with a bruising kiss.
“Sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas, Buttercup,” he murmurs against my lips. “You pick the date, or I will.”
TAVIAN
11.26.15
A tryptophan coma is a real thing. I know this, because I’m struggling to keep my eyes open as I lie here on my mom’s couch, watching the Lions and Packers play in a classic Thanksgiving matchup, despite the fact it’s not even 8:30 p.m. And it’s all the turkey’s fault.
We ate the formal dinner around four with Ma, Sammy, and several of my aunts, uncles, and cousins, but after the extended family members left an hour or so ago, I filled up a second plate with just as much food as the first and inhaled it like I hadn’t eaten all day. Lyra sat across the table and laughed at me, sipping her coffee and nibbling on pumpkin pie, reminding me she has antacids in her purse whenever I need them.
My wife already knows me so very well.
The last four months with Lyra have been an absolute whirlwind, and although I never in a million years would’ve expected my life to take this path, I wouldn’t change a single fucking thing. Even if it means this might be the last turkey day I’ll ever get to enjoy—a thought that hasn’t been far from my mind the entire day.
Lyra and I came over around mid-morning to help Ma with the meal and get the house ready. She insisted she could do it all on her own, which I have no doubt of, but I really just wanted to spend as much time with her as possible. My mom has always loved hosting Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners, but after Dad and my brothers died, her enthusiasm for the holidays dwindled drastically, and understandably so. She always tried to keep things as normal as possible for me, but there was nothing ever normal about their empty spots at the table.
But today, with Lyra and Sammy here with us, the sparkle is back in Ma’s eyes. And no matter what happens, I never want to forget the look of pure happiness she had while we all ate and talked and laughed today. Those are the moments it’s all about.
“Are you about ready to go, babe? I’m not sure you’re gonna be conscious if we wait much longer,” my wife says as she perches her cute little ass on the edge of the cushion near my ridiculously-full stomach. God, I’m going to be doing crunches for days to work off those mashed potatoes and honey-butter rolls.
I grin lazily up at her and link our hands together, loving the bold black numbers on our ring fingers that serve as a constant reminder of the day our world changed. “Yeah, especially if you still want to get up at whatever unreasonable hour you said earlier to go Black Friday shopping. Maybe I can get a few hours of sleep beforehand.”
“You don’t have to go. I told you that. Contrary to what you think, I’m perfectly capable of driving around the city by myself now. I don’t even hit that many curbs anymore!” she exclaims as if she’s conquered some great feat by not clipping ‘that many’ curbs. My poor tires and wheels may not make it much longer.
“I know you’re capable, babe,” I reply, because I’m a quick learner in this marriage-business, “but I want to go with you. I’ve never done it before, and I want to see all the crazy people fighting over TVs and game systems and stuff. It’s like an American tradition, right?”
Her face lights up as she bends forward to place a sweet kiss on my lips. “Right. It’ll be fun, I promise. I’m taking my camera, so even if we don’t find any good deals, we can get some good shots. It’ll make for a fun blog post.”
The photography blog Lyra started recently has become her little pet project, similar to the book I’ve been working on. With the rest of our bucket list trips scheduled later this year and at the beginning of next, we’ve spent the last few months just hanging out around the apartment—spending time together and learning more about each other—with and without clothes on—as well as exploring our individual interests and hobbies. It really couldn’t get any better.
Sure, we don’t have the day-to-day stresses many couples have with full-time jobs and financial strain, but we would both forfeit our plentiful savings accounts in a heartbeat if it meant Lyra could have her parents and I could have Dad, Cody, and Dawson back. But even more, the unspoken fear and anxiety we carry with the mystery of the numbers and the unknown surrounding our rapidly approaching date… it’s immeasurable. If it weren’t for Lyra’s constant presence to keep me grounded and focused, I would’ve already lost my mind. Counting down the days to your wife’s and your possible deaths can really fuck with your head.
“C’mon in here, you two, and make some doggy bags!” Ma calls out from the kitchen, sensing our impending departure. “Make sure you take the rest of the pies. My butt doesn’t need those around.”
I hear Sammy chuckle and say, “I like your butt just fine, woman. Especially when it—”
“We’ll take all the food, as long as everyone can stop talking about my mother’s ass, thank you very much!” I shout as I jackknife up and shake my head, trying to erase the image of someone checking out Ma’s rear. We may all be adults, but there are some things a child, no matter their age, shouldn’t have to think about or discuss.
Everyone cracks up at my outburst, including my wife, who doesn’t even try to stifle her laughter. Pushing to my feet, I grab Lyra’s hands and pull her up next to me, whispering in her ear, “You think I’m funny, Buttercup? We’ll see who’s laughing when I’m spanking your sweet ass later in bed.”
Suddenly silent, she jerks her chin around and stares up at me, a combination of sexual energy and uneasiness swirling in her stormy blue eyes. “You wouldn’t,” she hisses, daring me.
Now it’s my turn to laugh. My sexual style is far from what I’d consider kinky, but I am a fucking man, and many of the times when Lyra’s bent over in front of me, I’ve fantasized about smacking her firm little buns. Particularly when I’m grabbing her hips from behind and…
Ughhhh. I scoot behind Lyra, using her as a screen while I adjust myself, forcing my swelling cock down. “Let’s get the food and go,” I grunt. “I need to show you what I’m thankful for this Thanksgiving.”
With a silent nod, she takes off toward the kitchen and I follow close behind, trying my hardest not to look at her ass in her fitted jeans. I fail miserably.
“I’ve got turkey and dressing, mashed potatoes with gravy, green bean casserole, and cranberry sauce packed up in storage containers,” Ma announces once Lyra and I are both there, calling out each item as she sets it in a large cardboard box. “I don’t have anything to put the pies in, so I’ll just cover them in foil and you can bring the dishes back some other time.”
I grab the loaded-down box and hoist it up to my chest. “Thanks, Ma. You’re the best.”
Beaming at my compliment, she wraps her arm around my shoulders and gives me a squeeze. “You’re not too bad either, son. I’m not sure I could’ve done better. Sammy and I will walk you both outside.??
?
Once Lyra and I shrug on our coats and pull our hats down over our ears, the four of us meander through the front door and out into the cold, sleety November night, stopping on the porch to say our goodbyes. I shake Sammy’s hand the best I can while holding the bulky box and sincerely tell him how glad I am he joined us today. And other than the butt comment, I really mean it. Ma and Lyra hug and kiss each other’s cheek. We switch spots, and suddenly there’s a lump of emotions lodged in the back of my throat, making it hard to talk as I hold my mom in a snug embrace.
“Thanks again, Ma. Today… today was everything. I love you so much,” I finally manage after a couple of hard swallows.
I’m thankful the nearby streetlight is burnt out to hide the wetness blurring my vision during the bittersweet moment. Leaving my mom behind is what scares me the most about the numbers. I don’t want her to be alone. I want her to forever remember how much love she was surrounded with on days like today.
“I love you, too, Octavian, and I’m so proud of the man you’ve become.” She hugs me back. “I think it’s a great idea you and Lyra are taking this first year of marriage to build a strong foundation by exploring the world and spending time to really get to know each other.”
Guilt prickles in my gut. I didn’t want to lie to my mom about everything that’s going on with Lyra and me but I had to give her some viable reason for taking a leave of absence from the university and all the upcoming trips. Thankfully, since she’s a romantic at heart, she fully supported the impromptu wedding and the idea of a yearlong honeymoon.
“Oh, Marie, I completely forgot,” Lyra says after hugging Sammy goodbye. “I brought that photo book for you today, but I left it in the car earlier. Let me run and get it real quick.”
“Lyra, wait, I’ll go—” I holler, planning to offer to get it so she doesn’t get in the freezing rain, but she’s halfway across the yard before I can stop her. Glancing over at my mom, I shake my head and smile. “I try to be a gentleman, Ma. She’s just so damn independent.”
The loud rumble of an engine revving pierces the still night at the exact moment bright-beam headlights illuminate the street in front of the house, just as Lyra’s crossing the road to where my SUV is parked. Startled by the loud noise and the blinding lights shining directly on her, she freezes and turns to look at the car, holding her hands up to shield her eyes.
The next few seconds play out in front of me in slow motion, like in a nightmare when you can’t scream or move and are left to watch helplessly as the events unfold. The box of food crashes to the wood deck near my feet as the car—a black sports car—peels out and accelerates at top speed directly toward Lyra. My stomach lurches and my heart plummets, the two colliding somewhere in the middle.
I think I hear someone yell for her to run, but like me, her feet seem to be cemented to the ground. A black streak flashes in front of the house a split-second before the sound of screeching brakes are drowned out by an ear-splitting scream and a gut-wrenching thud. My wife’s limp body is flung up into the air and crumples onto the neighbor’s yard. It’s not until the car skids to a stop and a familiar blonde falls out of the driver’s side, landing on her knees and calling my name that I’m jarred back to the present.
A reality worse than any nightmare.
TAVIAN
11.26.15
“Lyraaa!” I roar as I bolt off the porch and dash across the yard, forgetting to breathe in the process.
The world around me fades away as adrenaline surges through my veins, fueled by gut-wrenching fear and white-hot rage. In the blink of an eye, I’m on my knees by my wife’s side, frantically surveying the damage to her broken body. This can’t be fucking happening. Not now. We still have time left, damn it! I can’t lose her yet.
Folded in an awkward heap of tangled limbs in the freezing wet grass, she’s knocked out cold, but appears to be breathing. Halle-fucking-lujeh! She’s alive. We’ve still got a chance. I’m not letting her go that easy.
“Hey, buttercup, I’m here. I’ve got you,” I soothe, needing so fucking badly to be strong for her. “Stay with me, Lyra, baby. Everything’s gonna be okay.”
Afraid I’ll do more damage than good if I try to move her, especially if she has a neck injury, I gently brush the hair back from her face, revealing numerous scrapes and what looks like turf burn from forehead to jaw on the entire left side. Thankfully, none of the lacerations appear to be very deep, but the trickle of blood oozing from her nose scares me quite a bit.
The shoulder on that same left side, which must have taken the brunt of the blow when she landed, is clearly out of socket, and the arm attached has a gruesome fracture just below the elbow. Bile shoots up the back of my throat at the repulsive sight, and before I can stop it, the contents of my churning stomach end up on the ground next to me.
I spit out the nasty taste and wipe the back of my mouth with the sleeve of my coat then turn my attention back to Lyra, silently praying for her to open her eyes, for her to say something… anything. Never in my life have I felt so helpless. I need to save her; that’s my job. And I can’t.
“I tried to stop, Tavian. I swear I did. I changed my mind! I didn’t mean to hit her. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” Annie sobs hysterically from behind me, and her voice flips a switch inside me. A switch that’s never been flipped before.
Blinded by all-consuming fury, I shoot to my feet and whip around to face her, causing her to stumble backward and nearly lose her footing. She tries to grab for me in steadying herself, but I push her away and laugh cruelly when she falls on her ass and starts crying harder.
“You changed your mind?” I thunder ferociously, standing over her like a looming monster ready to rip her to shreds. “Are you fucking kidding me right now, you crazy, stupid bitch? You ran my wife over with your car, and I’m supposed to think it’s okay, because you changed your goddamn mind, didn’t mean to hit her, and now you’re sorry? What the fuck is wrong with you, and why are you even here?”
“I-I-I came to apologize to you. I miss you. I miss you so much and wanted to tell you I’ll be here for you when she’s gone,” she blubbers through her tears. “And then… and then I saw her and thought…” Suddenly, her tears magically dry up and she pops her defiant chin up to stare me directly in the eye. “Wait a minute. Did you just say your wife? You married her, you asshole?”
My brain doesn’t even process what she says, because when our eyes meet, I hiss in a startled breath and my racing pulse slams to a dead stop. Holy shit. Her numbers. They’re back, same as before, brighter than ever.
Oh, God, no. Tell me this doesn’t mean….
I spin on my heels, completely ignoring Annie and whatever stupid shit is spewing from her mouth, and drop back down next to Lyra’s body, hopeful her same numbers will be back too to assure me I haven’t lost her yet. Carefully, I pry open one of her eyelids, but when I gaze into her pupils where the six-digit date should be, I can only see a black circle of vast nothingness, stealing all my hope.
Panicked, I search for a pulse in her neck and as soon as the faint throb vibrates against my fingertips, I screw my eyes shut and slump over Lyra’s frail, listless frame, wanting, if nothing else, for her to feel me close. To know she’s not alone. Annie continues to scream hateful things at me in the background, and I hear my mom attempt to silence her, but I pay them no mind. Nothing else matters without Lyra.
The next thing I know, a strong hand is tugging on my shoulder. “C’mon, sir. You need to move so we can help her,” an unfamiliar man’s voice barks in my ear. “The quicker we get her to Jefferson, the better. You can ride there with her in the front of the ambulance. Go wait for us near it.”
I jolt up and glance at the two men in paramedic attire squatting next to me and nod furiously once I realize what they’re asking me to do then scramble backward to make room for them to get to Lyra. Finally, help is here. They need to save her. They have to save her.
Staggering to my feet, I take a few sec
onds to survey the scene around me, all of which feels like a complete out-of-body experience. The bright red and blue flashing lights on the multiple squad cars and ambulance illuminate the entire block from the sinister darkness surrounding us. Ma and Sammy are huddled up talking to a couple of police officers, while at least a handful more men in uniform and a group of neighbors stand around and watch the paramedics transfer Lyra from the ground to a gurney.
Annie is gone. I have no idea where she is, but it’s probably for the best right now. Murdering someone in front of all these witnesses, primarily cops, wouldn’t bode well for me in court. And though I have full intentions to make sure she gets what she deserves for this, I’ll deal with her later. Lyra is my top priority.
Lyra is my everything. My eternity.
Acting on autopilot, I stalk out to the street toward Ma and the group of people she’s with, not giving a shit as I step in the middle of the circle and interrupt the officer who’s talking. They all have numbers again, and like Annie’s, Ma and Sammy’s are the same as before, so I can only assume everyone’s are.
Everyone’s, except Lyra’s.
“Get your keys and meet us at Jefferson University. I’m riding in the ambulance with her,” I tell my mom as she launches herself at me and buries her tear-stained face in my coat.
“I’m sorry, Mr. West. We need to finish asking your mom a few more questions first, and we have several for you as well before you can leave,” the cop says in a tone I don’t fucking appreciate one bit.
Releasing Ma, I whirl around and level him and his partners with a menacing glower that is wholeheartedly meant to be a threat. “That ambulance isn’t leaving without me in it,” I grit out through a clenched jaw, “so unless I’m under arrest for some reason, Officer, I’ll leave whenever the fuck I want. If you want my answers to your questions, you can meet me there, and I’ll talk to you after I find out what’s going on with my wife.”