004: Melia

There was something in the air, and Melia couldn't quite put her finger on it. It wasn't salt, like the salt spray in Catalina, and that was what she'd been used to for the last eight weeks, or thereabouts. She missed Catalina, she wanted to go back there. Jared was wrong, she had nothing but happy memories there. Her memories here were not all that happy. They were interrupted with fear and doubt and uncertainty. She stared out at the beautiful yellowish green foliaged landscape, the trails leading down to the river wash. It seemed barren to her right now. Barren, like the Alaskan ocean had seemed when they were there.

A week. Her eyes blurred for a moment as a gust of wind picked up. A week ago, they'd been down on the beach together, sleeping in the sand with their baby under an umbrella.

That was a good memory. Why couldn't she go back to that time? A week was all she'd need. Just go back.

She felt arms encircle her back and neck from behind and stiffened till she realized it was her sister. Strange she didn't feel annoyed as she had when so many people were hugging her earlier. Right now, Megan's touch was fine.

"Hey, sista." Megan whispered in a sing song voice that reminded Melia of a song they'd just recorded recently, called Hey Sista. She started singing it, and Megan joined in matching her harmony to Melia's perfectly. She sang all the chorus and then started in on a verse that she'd never sung before, just making up the words. Megan followed her so easily. They swayed a little, Megan's cheek near hers, as they sang.

Melia was relieved. Megan knew better than to start asking her how she was and stuff like that. Wasn't it obvious? She was grieving. She was in shock. She was in pain. There was no word that could describe it at all. It was like having the air sucked out of her on a continual basis. Each thought was centered on HIM. Each time she wanted to go and tell him something she couldn't. How did one stop feeling the need for him? She didn't know. And she didn't want to talk about it. Megan sensed this and left her alone to work it out. No questions.

They stayed there, looking out at the land. Another cooler breeze came up and tore through the baby's blanket and Melia pulled her closer, but knew she'd have to take her in, she was getting fussy and probably needed to eat. She turned and Megan's arms dropped off her back, their eyes met.

It was the first time she'd actually seen anybody in three days. Melia realized in shock that she couldn't look into anyone's eyes, she hated the compassion, the sadness. She needed to be strong, and she couldn't if all she saw was pity. But right now, she stared into Megan's eyes. Analytically, she supposed they were just like her own eyes, but having looked into Megan's eyes far more than she'd looked into her own, she wondered if hers were as pretty.

"You have pretty eyes." She said as they dropped to look at the path back to the house.

"Thanks." Megan said. "You do too."

"You're not just saying that?"

"Why would I?"

"I don't know. To make me feel better?"

"Are you kidding? If that's all it takes..."

There was nothing else to say. So they made their way back to the house that had belonged to Jared Patrick, and where he had lived before he met her. Inside the house people had cleared out and were heading over to Lily and Merlin's, at least the family was. Her own parents were still standing in the doorway talking about what they were going to do now, and the kids, many of them were out by the bus that they'd come in. Yes, she thought vaguely, the bus. They had to have a bus to haul all of them. And all of them had come.

She went into Jared's bedroom, the room they'd slept in when they were here a few months ago. His baseball cap was where he'd left it hanging on the bed post, his change from his pants was in a little jar on the dresser. Nothing was fancy, nothing was special, everything here was older and tarnished. He had planned to die here. If it wasn't for her, this is where he would have died.

She laid the baby on the bed, the rumpled bed, that hadn't been changed since he'd slept in it. That was his pillow. She moved Hannah up so she was lying on her daddy's pillow and then turned to her own suitcase on a chair by the bathroom door.

"What are you looking for?" Megan asked.

"My brush." Melia said pawing through her belongings that had been haphazardly packed, unlike her normal thought out style of packing. She had this "I don't care" sort of fog going on and it hadn't cleared yet.

Megan stepped inside. "Is this it?" she picked up a brush from the nightstand and handed it to her sister.

"No, that's Jared's." she said, and put it back exactly where it had been.

Megan looked at the brush lying there. "Are you going to keep it right there forever?"

Melia straightened up. "Is that a bad thing? I don't want to move his stuff yet?"

"If it was me, I wouldn't touch it ever. I'd sit and look at it and remember when he put it there." Megan said and then sat on the bed and held a sock up in front of the baby's eyes. "Can you see this little Hannah?"

Melia looked sort of shocked and then sat down on the bed as well. Megan's eyes turned to hers again and she whistled low. "What's wrong?"

"That's his sock. Did you find it on the floor?"

Megan kept dangling it in front of Hannah's face, and she clearly followed the bright green material with her eyes. "Yeah, so? Is that where he left it? So what? Eventually you would have to vacuum."

Melia sighed. "We were looking for it before we left. It's one of his favorite socks. He says it's his lucky sock. He had it for years."

Megan looked at it carefully. "Yeah? It's kind of worn through in a couple of spots. I'd keep this one if I were you. It definitely reminds me of him. His lucky green sock!" she flipped it over so it landed on Melia's lap, who fingered it briefly, and then glanced up at her sister.

Megan's eyes were her usual frank and forthright self. "That would have made me cry." She said honestly. "I don't see how you're not bawling all the time right now. This is so hard."

Melia looked away. She didn't know why she couldn't cry either. She'd cried a lot while he was alive. Every day, many times a day. Any thought of him not being here and she cried. And he held her while she cried. But he wasn't here to hold her, so she couldn't cry. She looked back at her sister. "I don't know why I'm not crying." She said.

Megan shrugged. "It's a grief thing." She nodded and picked up a chain off the nightstand and dangled it for Hannah. "It's well documented, all bottled up inside, kind of in shock. It's okay not to cry, maybe you're all cried out right now."

Melia just stared at the chain as well, remembering when Jared had held it out to her, and told her where he'd got it. Had that been very long ago? No. Had they just got up and walked out leaving all their memories intact right here? Would everything remind her of him?

Megan glanced around. "This is probably pretty weird for you. You guys were just here together not that long ago, huh?"

"It's weird, yeah." Melia said, but she was thinking of just a week ago. "Actually it's weirder that just four days ago...."

Megan's eyebrows rose. "Yeah, that would be weird. Four days ago you guys went for a run and then... poof, he's lost the use of his legs and then poof, he's gone." She shook her head. "Hard to believe. But you know what? Maybe it's better this way. Not so long and drawn out. You know if he'd just lingered, unable to do anything and one by one lost all ability to see and speak and hear and stuff. That would have been worse."

"You don't think I thought of that?" Melia snapped.

Megan wasn't a trained grief counselor, but she had taken classes at ABCSC. She understood grief. She'd seen people in grief. She knew that Melia would snap out at her. In fact, being her normal flippant self would cause Melia to snap to some extent. She'd be more worried if she didn't.

"Well, yeah, I guess you'd have thought of it. I was just saying it." Megan picked Hannah up and cuddled her gently, finally stood and left the room. Maybe Mommy needed a few minutes in Daddy's room alone.

Melia sat there on the bed they'd shared so recently. She smoothed the pillow thinking that she had just snapped at Megan, and she knew Megan was trying to simply be there for her. She appreciated that, but she didn't want it right now. She was holding on so tight, and she didn't really know where to turn. Everything seemed so empty right now. The place she would have gone to for comfort and answers had disappeared. Every inclination was to talk to him, but he wasn't there.

Not there? How could he be not there? It just didn't seem possible. Even knowing that this was the outcome of their union, she still couldn't believe it. She couldn't understand it at all, her heart just wouldn't let go.

She kept smoothing the pillow. She'd slept here. He'd slept right there. She'd traced the sun tan wrinkles on his face, played with the little earring...his eyes had turned to her, knowing what she wanted, and he'd complied, loving her so well, every day they were together. There hadn't a day gone by... until after the baby came, and even then.... She choked and pushed that thought away.

She could feel him. Skin on skin. She closed her eyes and drifted. She could bring back the smell of him, the sound of his breathing when he slept, the twitch of his eyes. A blink.... The feel of his touch as he smoothed her skin, her hair, the way he looked at her. Right now, he would sit behind her, he would put his arms around her, under her breasts and lean into her neck, nuzzling her hair aside, and kissing her there. A hand rose to touch the exact spot. He was there, she knew he was. She could feel him. His arms were thick and corded, only a little hairy, his skin wasn't soft, more coarse, tanned permanently, and inked. He had scars. She held his arms there, and ran her thumb over the scars. Memorized scars. She laced her fingers with his, could feel the joints, he'd broken every one of them, and they were knobby.

She ached. Literally ached to hold him again. If she could, she would just sit here, and hold him. Why hadn't she held him more? She should have just held him and not let go. She rocked back and forth, feeling bereft, more bereft than she'd ever felt in her life. How could she feel so alone? She wasn't alone, had never been alone.

*****