1. A faded memory #3
It’s been a few weeks since the funeral, and home feels…
empty. Lifeless . Sitting blankly at the table, I think back to how Rosie always woke me up with pancakes and eggs before work, and I’d have dinner ready before she returned for the evening.
My job allows me to work remotely–the pleasures of working in cyber security.
I create firewalls that can’t be hacked.
Unless I’m the one hacking. I provide a good defense for protecting things others deem small, which is my selling point.
Ironic. I’m also well versed in other aspects like code cracking.
The sushi aroma escaping the bag in front of me reminds me of a distant time. Years ago, Rosie introduced me to it, and when my tongue hit that first ‘Philadelphia roll,’ it was heaven. She laughed at the speed I scarfed them down, then passed me hers. But that was a time when things were simpler.
As I open the bag, a sigh gives way. “This one’s for you, bestie.”
Grief came in waves over the past weeks. Some days were better than others and some…worse. Nightmares of a fiery vehicle haunted me, and burning screams played on repeat. Between that and Rosie’s death, sleep became something I loathed entirely.
Eating was once a delight, and now it’s more of a necessity. Most days, the only time food crosses my mind is during dinner, so the entire day would collapse before I notice any hunger pangs.
I can’t fix breakfast, that was her thing, and I’d betray her trust if I did. Silly to think? Sure, but to let go of a memory so good, when there aren’t many left; hurts.
A breeze of cold air seeps through the vents, telling me winter is coming, and a chuckle escapes at the thought. We’d binge watched Game of Thrones, and every year, Rosie would yell, “Winter is Coming!” in an accent she wasn’t good at.
The time reads half past eight, and streetlights are turning on down the road.
Dinner is over, and for the past few minutes, my gaze has wandered around the living room, looking at old photos and cases containing my martial arts trophies.
Even with all my training, I still couldn’t save her. Useless.
I grab a jacket off the rack–Rosie’s to be specific–mine was destroyed during her attack. Placing it over my hoodie, I slide my shoes on after, then grab the foldable blade I now carry. Courtesy of that dreadful night.
How am I supposed to move on from losing her?
I can’t, but this place will permanently become my grave if I don’t attempt to deal with her death.
So tonight, a walk will be the start of doing so.
The locks click, and the numbers on my door stare back.
“Zero, two, zero, four.” One of the reasons we chose this apartment was because it held both our favorite numbers.
“Come on, let’s go,” I whisper to motivate myself to walk away.
My lungs swallow the cool air, and a rogue gust flows over my shoulder.
Other people have the same idea, as I am not the only one out for a walk tonight.
Low chatter and dogs barking travel about.
It helps quiet the thoughts, and for these precious moments, it’s a weight off my shoulders.
The goal was to reach the street’s end, but once there, my legs continue moving.
“Going somewhere?” a nagging voice interrupts.
“A walk, Detective Jacob. Or is that a crime?” I bite back, giving him an eye roll.
“You’re still on our suspect list, Kyra. Two deaths happened on your watch, and you were told to stay put until we–”
“Does it look like I’m trying to flee? Do you see any bags in my hands? I’m walking. Unless you have orders to arrest me, leave me the fuck alone.”
He sighs in annoyance, but that makes two of us. I have little care about being investigated. I didn’t kill Rosie, no more than the woman trapped inside her car. Now if the charges were not being able to save them, sure, lock me up. That much I deserve.
“We still need to talk, and I have more questions,” he yells from the curb. “I’ll be here once you’ve finished with that ‘so called walk’ of yours.” Gracefully giving him the middle finger over my shoulder, I round the corner.
There’s a little daiquiri shop not far from our place, my place , that we’d stop at any time we were out.
As I grow closer, the idea of getting one doesn’t seem half bad.
With two people in line, I take the third slot, and my phone buzzes, startling me.
More messages from social media. People convey pictures with Rosie as if they were friends, yet none of them attended her funeral, and the ones that came shouldn’t have.
After another eye roll, I place my phone into my pocket. To hell with all of them.
“Hi there. How can I help you?” a young fellow asks. The green tips of his hair blend against the green hues of his eyes.
I return a fake smile and proceed. “Can I get a peach bellini with an extra shot please. Make it a medium.”
“Wait. I need to see some I.D. You don’t look twenty-one,” he flirts.
“Dude, I come here all the time.” I’m not in the mood for his flirting.
“I don’t make the rules, kid. You must be twenty-one to buy a drink.
” His teeth flash, and he points to a rusted sign.
Wrinkles fall over my brow as I pull out my I.D.
and hand it over. “Ohh. You just turned twenty-one this year…Kyra,” he mocks, then hands my card back.
“I tell you what, drinks are on the house.”
A few minutes pass, and the line grows longer. Some resort to small talk while they wait. “Ma’am.” The young fellow returns. Against my wishes, he holds a size larger than what I asked.
“Thank you.” My smile is dry and everything but kind.
“No problem, hope to see you soon.” He winks those green eyes, and mine roll with exhaustion.
I head towards the park’s running trail, often filled with people doing what I dread most, exercising.
Don’t get me wrong, I may be out of shape and can’t run worth a damn, but my clothing size doesn’t change.
So that’s a win. My lungs simply don’t have the capacity to run. Not that I want to anyway .
An empty bench calls to me with promises of resting. My ankle is healed, though now and then, numbing pain finds its way back. And what little burns I sustained, are now a light spot of skin. A blemished reminder.
Popping the seal on my daiquiri, I blow out a breath of frustration.
The asshole wrote his number on my cup with a little note beneath it.
‘If you like daiquiris, you should try cock-tails. Give me a call cutie.’ And a damn smiley face under it.
He’s not even cute. I mean sure, he has a nice smile and eyes, but that’s it.
I can’t get off on a nice smile. So, fuck him and his little ‘cock-tail’ he has between his legs. “No, thank you.”
To my left, a couple walks down the trail, holding hands and giggling. Apparently, it’s funny enough for them to stop, and the guy leans forward, slapping his knee. An exaggerated gesture. She pushes him against one of the trees, kissing him with a passion so wild, he is even caught off guard.
I avert my attention opposite of them and find a man strolling towards us in the distance. He wears a long coat, almost scraping the ground, and a crisp earth scent passes by me from the same direction. I pull up my hood, disregarding my surroundings, and focus on my drink. *Sip*
“Stop.”
“No, you stop,” says the couple heading my way, play-fighting. He slaps her on the ass, and she screams while running away. It’s futile to say the least, because in an instant, he catches her with a firm embrace, and the cuteness of their laughter echoes.
Regardless of another seat across the trail, they perch beside me. She’s on his lap with his face in her neck. Seriously? Giggles erupt, and I remain straight, but my peripheral catches it all. *Sip* His hand caresses the side of her hips then eases up towards her breast.
“Stop,” she whispers, jerking her head towards me. My phone vibrates, and I can’t be happier. Thank God for notifications . My fingers bounce between social media apps, trying to focus on anything other than these two.
He whispers back, “Don’t worry, she can’t see us.” Oh, but I can, sir. Clear as fuckin’ day. He catches the one time I decide to pry and smirks. Caught off guard, I quickly stand, leaving my beverage and walk as far from them as possible.
Trees and bushes pass by until the couple are no longer in sight, and I walk some more. Reaching another bench almost a mile away, I sit. Silence is finally my only companion.
My heated temperature lowers after meeting the seat’s cold touch, and I turn my head upwards, catching a single star shining brighter amongst the many.
“Rosie, girl you should’ve seen this. Your freaky ass would’ve asked to join,” Ichuckle.
And when a moment of peace finally finds me, my cheek collides with the ground from something striking the back of my head.