Epilogue

Chapter Fifty (Final Chapter)

Previously, on "Memoirs Of A City Girl":
Ch. 49 (Amazing)
-Rosie revealed that she was 11 weeks pregnant when she
left her husband and sons behind.
-Calla was just as shocked as Brad to find that she has 
family members she never knew about.
-Knowing this is something Brad needed to talk to his
family about in private, I decided to leave my classroom.
-I urged him to give his mom and sister a chance and
reminded him that they are hurting just as much as he is.
-When he stopped by the house later that day, he revealed
that he confronted his mom about everything and it was
very emotional for everyone.
-As happy as I was for him, I knew the time has come
to tell him the truth about where we stood.
-I told him that I'm in love with Luke.
-He was shocked and hurt, but he understood.
-We both decided to let each other go, knowing it was time
to move on.
-A few months later, I visited Hangman's Tree to say my
goodbyes to Emma, Jesse, William and Luke.
-I accepted the fact that it simply wasn't meant to be in
this life and I was better off alone.




Location: Wolfson’s Hospital And Research Facility
Date: Wednesday, 1/11/2012
Time: 10:19 a.m.

“Thank you for coming in this morning, Lyn.” Dr. Chan flashes me a warm smile as I sink comfortably on the chair, facing her. There’s a quiet assurance about her that I really admire, as if she’s in no hurry at all, and she has all the time in the world to answer my questions. It’s almost hard to believe that this is the same woman Brad introduced me to a few months ago, when he was down here for two weeks. Now she’s my doctor. “I wanted to discuss the results of your lab work in person.”

“It’s no problem,” I mutter as I set my purse on the floor. Since this weekend, I’ve been feeling rather ill. I’m not sure if it was the suspicious looking plate of Sloppy Joe’s I ate in the school cafeteria or a virus going around, but I haven’t been able to stomach anything down. I’ve slept for the most part of the weekend, and I’ve barely been able to stay awake in class. At one point, Dr. Weston came in to my classroom and told me that I’ve been looking pale. She wouldn’t let me come back to work until I’ve seen a doctor. Yesterday, Dr. Chan called to let me know that my lab results came in, but she didn’t feel comfortable discussing it over the phone. So I’ve had to miss work again today just to see her since she leaves early on Wednesdays. “My principal knows about my appointment. She has a sub covering for me.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” She quietly flips through my file, scanning the notes scribbled on my paperwork. “Okay, let’s see here. Your blood pressure and temperature are a little high.”

“I’m finishing up the antibiotics you gave me,” I explain, feeling somewhat alarmed about my blood pressure. It’s always been normal, but I guess I haven’t been too gentle on myself with all the hours I’ve spent at work lately. Sometimes I won’t come home until 9 p.m.---or least when the custodian reminds me that he’s getting ready to set the campus alarm. Sometimes I just don’t want to go home, for fear of what’s waiting for me---the unbearable silence---leaving me vulnerable to thoughts of Luke. “I guess I’m still coming down from my fever.”

“Good. You may want to take a few more days off.” Dr. Chan closes my file as she looks me in the eye, her words deliberate, “You’ll need the rest.”

“But I’m getting better, Dr. Chan. I don’t think I can miss any more days of work.”

“If not for your sake,” she calmly insists as her demeanor changes into a more serious---motherly tone, “then for the baby’s sake.”

Bricks. Crashing through the roof of the hospital, landing on Dr. Chan’s desk, the top of my head and my unsuspecting lap. This...this word that I thought I just heard, pummels me on the back, knocking the oxygen out of my lungs. Baby. It couldn’t be. I must be hearing things. When I finally regain my composure---and ability to breathe, I whisper weakly, “W-what?”

“You’re seven weeks pregnant, Lyn.” Her eyes are straightforward and unflinching, delivering the words as if there’s no other room for interpretation. As if they are fact, a non-negotiable fact, and the moment they leave her lips, they are etched permanently into existence. “Congratulations.”

Congratulations. This concept sears into my heart, unleashing a place I’ve tried to forget about in the past few months. All of the pain, the disappointments, the lost chances, the days that seemed to drag on, completely devoid of meaning and purpose---brought this one morsel of a miracle. A miracle I have secretly and silently prayed for in my private moments of despair. Congratulations, fate seems to say to me, handing me this gift of life---a part of me---and a part of Luke. Overcome by my own emotions, I look down and try to suppress the scorching tears from falling.

“Are you okay, hon?” Dr. Chan asks as she hands me a tissue. “I hope those are happy tears.”

“Y-yes,” I laugh softly as I wipe my eyes, “they are.”

“You’re still five weeks away from passing the first trimester, which has the highest incidence of miscarriage. That’s why it’s very important that you take it easy and take care of yourself.”

I nod quietly.

“I want you to go home, get some rest and make sure you eat healthy from now on. Try to avoid any type of stress. If your blood pressure doesn’t go back to normal next time I see you, I may have to put you on low-dose medication for the duration of your pregnancy. Until then, pre-natal vitamins should help you out.”

“Okay, I’ll do that,” I take a deep breath, feeling completely dumbfounded at this new-found change in my life. At the same time, I’m bursting with hope---and filled with so much gratitude that I’ve been given back the baby I lost not too long ago. And this time, it’s with the man I love. I don’t know where to go from here, but at least I’ll have a reason to contact him. “Thank you, Dr. Chan.”

“You’re very welcome. Are you excited to tell the father?”

“He’ll be surprised for sure.”



Location: Hangman’s Tree National Historic Landmark
Time: 11:11 a.m.

After I left Dr. Chan’s office, I must have sat in the truck for at least ten minutes, letting the news sink in, while trying to figure out when and how I should tell Luke. When I was pregnant with Brad’s baby, I didn’t find out until I was in my tenth week and I still wanted to wait to tell him. And just like Dr. Chan’s warning, the stress caused me to have a miscarriage. I can’t afford to lose this baby. Not now, now when it’s Luke’s. Not when it matters the most. 

Not knowing what to do, I decide to pay another visit to the one place that gives me solace, despite the bittersweet memories permanently lingering around it. Hangman’s Tree. Maybe I’ll find the courage to call Luke and tell him the news. If fate is truly kind, maybe, just maybe…I’ll find him there. The way Jesse and I always found our way to each other--- at our sacred place. 

As I walk up towards the barren oak tree, my pulse starts to quicken for a reason I can’t explain. When the sea of fragrant yellow roses, white camellias and pink azaleas come into view, a sudden gust of chilly wind shakes up the trees, causing the leaves to rustle before it moves through my body, leaving me breathless. A shiver runs up my spine, making me fold my arms over my breasts. Something is happening. I can feel it in my bones and every tingling pore in my body. This nagging, unshakeable feeling that I’m supposed to be here. Right now.

The moment the barren oak tree comes into full view, I see the old familiar park bench. My heart stops, along with the movement of my feet, at the sight of Luke sitting on the edge of it with his face buried in his hands. I swallow, close my eyes and count to three. One…two…three. I open them again, to find him still within my sight. Oh my God, he’s here. He’s really here.

“Well, here we are again
I guess it must be fate
We've tried it on our own
But deep inside we've known
We'd be back to set things 
Straight”



Afraid that he might vanish if I don’t act quickly, I inhale deeply and carefully walk in his direction. It takes all the self-control from every molecule in my body not to run up to him, take him in my arms, kiss him all over his handsome face and tell him it’s going to be okay. Instead, I stop when I’m a few feet away, waiting quietly until his eyes look up to meet mine. They widen in disbelief as they probe through my whole being, making time stop all over again as his face slowly lights up. 

Without a word, he gets up from the bench and takes a few steps towards me until he is a mere foot away, never wavering his gaze. There’s a weariness in his eyes, a sort of quiet desperation from trying to break free, just like I have, but the remnants of our connection simply refuses to die. There’s so much to say, so many questions to ask, but words fail us as we stand there just looking at each other, absorbing each other’s presence and marveling at how we both ended up here. “Hi…” he whispers, finally breaking the silence after what seems like a long, excruciating wait.

“Hi…” I whisper back, nearly croaking as the sound of his voice triggers all of the longing, the desire and the emptiness that would never go away, no matter how hard I tried. My heart aches all over again, sending this dull, piercing need to the very depths of my core, a sort of hunger for everything we have shared and everything we have lost. “What are you doing here?”

“I was hoping…you’d be here.” He admits, with a tender honesty in his voice that just melts away my insides.

“You were?” 

“Yeah...Brad called me this morning.”

“Oh…what did he say?”

“He said you told him to check on me.”

“Yes…I did.”

“He also said…” He hesitates and looks away for a moment, into some far-away place I can’t quite reach, or describe. Then his pale green eyes---reminiscent of glowing, liquid emeralds---return to mine.

My heart just about leaps in my throat, morbidly curious at what else Brad revealed. Whatever it was, it was serious enough to make Luke drive down here in the middle of work and look for me, based on the uniform he’s still wearing. Bracing myself, I manage to squeak, “Y-yes?”

“That…you’re in love with me.” 

“Oh…” My head spins. It’s one thing to admit this to myself---heck, even to Brad---but it’s a completely different story when confronted by Luke. The one person that I safely guarded this information from is the very same person standing in front of me now, looking me dead in the eyes, and it makes me feel really vulnerable. There’s no escaping it. 

He takes another step until his face is merely a few inches away from mine. As he looks down at me, his breathing becoming more audible, he reaches out to caress my face---making me tremble. “Is this true, Lyn?”



 “Y-yes,” I search his face, finally acknowledging the truth. I become bombarded by a wave of heaviness surging through me, wearing down my defenses, until they flood my eyes. In one blink, the tears come crashing down, making my heart feel like it’s being squeezed to the very last drop of blood. “I’m so s-sorry, Luke. I screwed everything up.” 

“No babygirl, it’s my fault.” Without warning, he grabs me and takes me in his arms, squeezing me so tight that he nearly knocks the wind out of me. Everything ceases to exist. His masculine scent, the warmth of his muscular body pressed against mine, the jingle of tree branches being gently caressed by the breeze, the sweet essence of flowers nearby, the cozy morning sunlight hovering over us, even the way his voice breaks as he wipes my tears. They all fade away under the wild drumming of my own heart and the jumble of my own erratic thoughts. “All you needed was time and I was too selfish to understand that.”

I quietly reach out to cup his face; gently tracing the contours of his cheekbones, his strong jawline, the curve of his luscious lips, the width of his chin and the tip of his beautiful nose with my fingers.

It’s just me and him---with all of our fragile hopes and dreams---suspended in time, lost in this very moment we both have been silently waiting for. He adds, “I’m sorry about the things I said. I never meant to hurt you.”

“It’s okay...you lost your dad. I should have been there for you.”

“You were,” he picks me up until my feet are dangling off the ground and my eyes hover over his in an infinite, hypnotic dance. “You were.”

“I still remember when
Your kiss was so brand new
Every memory repeats
Every step I take retreats
Every journey always
Brings me back to you”

“I’ve been lost…so lost without you,” I whisper, running my fingers through his thick, silky brown hair as I absorb the intensity of his eyes, which are now burning like transparent green embers---penetrating through the very depths of my soul. I feel just as helpless as the first time me made love, knowing he sees right through me, knowing I can’t hide anything from him. 

He smiles and squeezes me even tighter as traces of sorrow faintly emerge from his face. “Me too…”

“What we shared that night and that morning meant so much to me, but I never told you,” I admit without any hesitation or fear, baring myself to him because it’s something he deserves to know. It’s something he should have known a long time ago. “I should have told you how much you mean to me. I should have told you how much…I love you.”

A gust of air escapes his mouth as he closes his eyes, as if he’s been waiting an eternity to hear those words, both a surprise and relief. When he slowly opens them again, he gives me a puzzled, almost accusatory look. “You…love me?”

“Of course I do. I love you, Luke. It just took me a while to realize it.”

“I’ve loved you from the moment we met.” He loosens his hold on me until my body slides down against his and I can feel my feet touching the ground. He gently lifts my face up with his hand as he leans in---so close---that I can feel his warm breath on my quivering mouth. My stomach twists into all kinds of knots as his soft lips lightly press against mine, an explosion of hot sparks on contact, making me whimper like an inexperienced schoolgirl. Yearning for more, all I can do is hold on to him as I try to keep my knees from buckling in weakness. As he rests his forehead on mine, he breathlessly whispers, “You’re my Lois Lane. You’re everything to me.”

“When love is truly right
This time it's truly right
It lives from year to year
It changes as it goes
Oh, and on the way it grows
But it never disappears”



The moment he said Lois Lane, I lost it and I could have sworn I heard my soaked panties drop to the ground with a THUD. My poor, unsuspecting, hopeless romantic heart had no chance. None whatsoever. As I watch my inhibitions fly out the window, I grab Luke’s face and hungrily devour his mouth. He lets out a deep, primal groan as he grabs my ass and presses his crotch against mine, his fervent breath all over my face. I wrap my arms around his neck as I open my mouth wider to meet his hot, moist tongue---dancing, probing, sliding against mine---sending a bolt of electricity between my legs.

“Lyn…” His voice becomes lost amidst our frantic breathing and gyrating bodies, completely unaware if we’re alone or if there are people around us. 

“Hmm?” I murmur blindly and deliriously as his mouth moves down my neck.

“We should…slow down…” His hands slip inside my top, possessively squeezing my aching breasts, as he bites my lower lip and says, “Or…I will rip…your clothes off…and...bend you over...this bench.”

“Oh, daddy...” My hands slide down his forearms and squeeze them as I try to regain my composure---and common sense. I close my eyes, count to three and breathe deeply. God, you can bend me over anytime. I don’t give a damn who sees. Even my own lewd thoughts betray me, and I force myself to think of something else. It doesn’t help that Luke has a major bulge going right now. “So...um...Brad talked some sense into you, huh?”

At first, he just stares blankly at me. Then he chuckles. “Yeah.”

“I’m trying to be good, okay? I really am.” I shake my head and give him a mischievous grin. “So…are you guys okay now?”

“We’re getting there. He told me what happened with his mom and sister. He said you were there for him.”

“I was. Calla’s one of my students.”

His demeanor shifts into a more serious tone as he grabs my waist and pulls me close, our bodies exchanging heat once again. He looks at me. I can feel his eyes trace every single line and curve of my face, from my forehead all the way down to the crinkle of my lips. Then he takes a lock of my hair and slip it between his fingers, watching it fall down my shoulder repeatedly. “So…it’s really over between you and him?”

“Yes. I haven’t spoken to him since November.” The way he plays with my hair is so relaxing, it puts me in a sort of trance as I absorb the tingle of every hair follicle. But it doesn’t change how hard it was for me to let Brad and Luke go, and accepting the possibility that love may just not be in the cards for me in this life. That was my reality until today. Until I found out I was pregnant---and until I found Luke here. “I will always care about him as a person but it wasn’t meant to be. He needs to find himself so he can be happy.”

“So it’s really me and you this time?” 

“Yes, it’s really me and you.” I rest my face on his hard chest and savor his delicious, familiar scent, praying I won’t wake up---if this is merely a dream. “And...the baby.”

His body tenses up. “Baby? What baby?”



“I’m seven weeks pregnant, Luke,” I divulge nervously, meeting his interrogating gaze. “You’re gonna be a daddy.”

There’s a hazy look in his eyes as if a semi is speeding in his direction, and he’s lying immobile in the middle of a highway. His hands hold on to my waist, almost hanging on for dear life, as he whispers, “Oh my God…” 

“Are you excited?”

“Excited?” He picks me up without effort and carries me in his arms. My Superman. My wonderful, amazing fireman. “You’re having my baby. What more could I want?”

 “If we have a boy, I’d like to name him Joseph. To honor your dad.”

“I’d really like that.” He leans in to give me a soft, lingering kiss. “If we have a girl, can we name her Abigail?”

“Yes,” I nod, swept away by my own emotions, “Abigail is perfect.”

"After all that we've been through
It all comes down to me and you
I guess it's meant to be
Forever you and me, after all”

*Copyright Lyn C.S. 2013*
---------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's Note: Wow, this chapter was bittersweet for me to write. As happy as I am that we got to see how it ends, I'm sad that I have to say goodbye to the characters and the wonderful readers who have stuck with me from the very beginning. For those of you who don't know, this humble little story started out as a picture thread in the Sims 3 forums, with my simself exploring the Pets EP (in case you were wondering why the main character shares my name). I actually tried to change her name (I felt weirded out) but I was already five chapters in. So it was too late. From there, it just grew, along with my writing. This story has also been healing for me. I was going through some family issues, and for the last two years, writing was my form of release---and therapy. 

I just wanted to thank all of you who have been following this story. I know I put you guys through it and left a lot of you screaming at your computer and pulling your hair out. lol I must admit, that was the best part. Hehe. :P A little sadistic perhaps? Maybe. But I really enjoyed taking you guys in this journey and surprising you with the twists and turns. My characters have grown, and so have I.

It has been an honor to share parts of myself with you through my stories. I hope you had as much fun as I did! HUGS!

PS: I'm working on the Epilogue. I should have it posted soon :)

"After All" by Peter Cetera and Cher
Video by: eclipsehunter2002

Chapter Forty-Nine (Amazing)

Previously, on "Memoirs Of A City Girl":
Ch. 48 (Hurt)
-Instead of driving back to Appaloosa, I decided to stop by
my parents' house. 
-My dad answered the door and I ended up crying in his arms
when he told me how much he missed me.
-He asked for my forgiveness, for not protecting me more
and being more involved.
-I admitted that I never felt like I was good enough, that
my parents loved Naveah more.
-My dad reassured me that he has always loved me but
he just didn't know how to show it.
-When I found out that my parents kicked my sister
out after Brad told them what happened, my mom got
upset and blame me for everything.
-I got fed up and finally gave her a piece of my mind.
-I told my mom that if I ever became a mother, I
hope I never become like her.
-When I went back to work, I had a parent-teacher
conference with Calla and her mom.
-It turned out that Rosie is also the same woman
that abandoned Brad.



Location: Appaloosa Plains Public School
Date: Friday, 11/11/2011
Time: 4:07 p.m.

Mom. The moment that word leaves Brad’s mouth, my heart stops, and I can feel my blood cells freeze, along with time. The woman that raised Calla is the very same woman that abandoned Brad when he was a child. I quietly retreat back to my desk and brace myself on the smooth polished wooden surface, just to maintain my sense of balance. A part of me is unsure if I should even be here to witness such a private, yet profound moment. Rosie’s once calm and composed demeanor has become stricken with dread and guilt, challenged by Brad’s unrelenting gaze.

“What are you---” he studies her face just to make sure he’s not mistaken, that he’s not seeing things, but he’s unable to vocalize his thoughts completely. In his eyes---I see an emptiness that comes from deep inside---still yearning for a mother’s love and acceptance. It’s the very same thing I see in myself. “How did you---”

“Mom, what’s going on?” Calla’s voice reminds me that she's also witnessing all of this and she’s probably wondering why her mother looks like a deer caught in the headlights. She takes a few steps towards Brad, giving him an appraising look and asks, “Who is this?”

“Mom?” his eyes widen, alternating his gaze between the middle-aged redhead and the rebellious 16 year old in front of him. “You have a daughter?”

“I’m sorry…” Rosie fumbles with her purse as she looks down at the floor, unable to withstand the questions and scrutiny of her own children---who apparently have never met. “I can explain everything.”

“Oh, you better. You have 17 years that you need to explain!” Brad shakes his head and folds his arms. I can hear him breathing through his nostrils.

“Calla, this is Bradley…your brother.”

Silence. The truth finally emerged in its rawest, purest form---leaving no room for any other interpretation or possible denial. I saw it leave Rosie’s lips, harpoon through Brad’s heart and land on Calla’s throat. “I don’t…understand,” she mutters warily, “I thought I was your only child.”

“Honey...the truth is...I left your father and two older brothers 17 years ago.” Rosie sighs, reluctantly revealing the missing pieces of her past. A painful past that she ran away from, just like I did, when I moved to this town. “I was 11 weeks pregnant with you.”

“What?? My dad is alive? And I have two brothers?”

“Yes, baby. You see, your dad was very…abusive.” There’s an undeniable strain in Rosie’s voice at the mention of the man who is the father of her children. Her eyes suddenly become clouded with sorrow---as if the vile memories are flashing in her head---opening up old wounds. “He hurt me and your brothers. I just…I wasn’t strong enough…to deal with it all.”

“And we had to deal with that alcoholic monster.” Brad breaks his own silence. There’s a coldness in his voice, the kind that is almost necessary to contain the dam of anger itching to break free. With a look of disgust, he points at Rosie while his eyes search Calla’s face. “See this woman right here? She left. She didn’t even try to come back for us. Why do you get to be so lucky?”

“Lucky?? I just found out my whole life’s a lie!”

“I kept the right ones out
And let the wrong ones in
Had an angel of mercy

To see me through all my sins

There were times in my life
When I was goin’ insane
Tryin’ to walk through the pain”

I become increasingly uncomfortable. Like a fly on the wall, only everyone can see me and they know I’m here. Having just dealt with Luke---and my own parents---I’m still emotionally drained. Now this. Having to watch this drama unfold in front of my very eyes, and not knowing how it’s going to end. This is something Brad needs to deal with on his own. I walk up to him and whisper, “Brad, I’m gonna go.”

“No, don’t leave.”

“You need to talk to your family in private.”

“Can I---” he hesitates for a moment, looking down at the floor, before returning my gaze. I know that look. The need for refuge after the storm, when all you have left is bits of your sanity---and fragments of yourself that you managed to salvage. The overwhelming need to share the aftermath with someone---because if you don’t, it’s easy to get lost in the debris---and you may never find your way out. “Can I see you afterwards?”

“I’ll be at home,” I lean in to give him a soft kiss on the forehead, letting him know that he’s not alone. “Talk to them, Brad. They’re hurting just as much as you are.”

He nods morosely. “I’ll…try.”

I flash Rosie an empathetic smile to let her know that I understand---that they need their privacy. She gives me an appreciative nod. I turn to Brad’s sister and say, “See you Monday, Calla.” 

“Bye, Ms. Santori.”

Location: 1012 Pomona Promenade
Time: 6:05 p.m.

By the time Brad stops by, it’s already past six and I’m actually glad to see him. In the hour and a half that I’ve been home, I couldn’t take a nap. I couldn’t concentrate on whatever I was watching on t.v. I could barely even eat anything, despite my stomach’s complaint that I only had a flimsy salad for lunch. In the silence of my own home and the fading sunlight, Luke’s presence still lingers. Memories of him, of us, of the incessant reminder of what could have been---wondering if he’s thinking of me too. 

As Brad takes the spot next to me on the couch, I force myself to stay in the present as I push Luke out of my mind. “How did it go?”

“It was brutal,” he takes a deep breath, somewhat lost in his own thoughts as he blankly stares at the fireplace. It’s almost hard to believe that we made love next to it not too long ago. Now it feels like a distant memory, as if I’m merely recalling from a hazy past. “I blamed my mom for everything. I yelled. I screamed. I cried. She cried and apologized. My sister cried too. It was a mess.”

“You guys finally confronted everything.” I smile as I briefly search his face, reassured that I did the right thing by leaving. Despite the puffiness around his eyes---there’s an unmistakeable serenity that I haven’t seen in a long time---usually reserved during our passionate, intimate moments. “That’s good.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m still angry. But I remembered what you said and it helped me stay calm enough to hear my mom out.”

“I understand what you’re going through, trust me. I just confronted my own parents. All my life I thought my dad loved my sister more and I just found out it’s not true.”

“Did you---” he pauses, especially after the mention of Naveah, as if he’s unsure if he should tread that topic, “see her?”

“No. My parents kicked her out.” Strangely, the mere mention of her doesn’t feel like a punch in the gut---the way it used to. Before, I couldn’t even think about her without being consumed by blind rage---and my heart being shanked. Now she’s more like a sore, tender, swollen scab. Almost closed up, still healing, but not as painful. “And my dad told me what you did.”

“There’s not a day that I wish I can change that. I’m not proud of it.”

“Well, I’m proud of you for telling the truth.”

“Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

There’s a moment of silence where neither of us know what to say. I’ve made my peace with my parents, I no longer allowed my anger towards my sister to control me and now---there’s only one other person I need to make my peace with---which is Brad. As I quietly study him sitting next to me, his familiar scent waking up old memories, I become bombarded by a wave of sadness. I put so much of my hopes and dreams in him, believing that he was my soulmate, “the one”. In reality, I was trying to make him into something he’s not.

All of the qualities I searched for---passion, kindness, profound connection and courage---were qualities I found in Jesse. I projected all these things on Brad, not knowing he is just as emotionally damaged as I am. It’s not a wonder he cheated on me, it’s not a wonder he failed to hold up his end of the relationship and it’s not a wonder that he didn’t appreciate me until I was gone. How could I expect him to love and cherish someone when he doesn’t even know what love is? When it’s something that I had to prove to him?

“How did it go with Luke?” He breaks the silence by clearing his throat and looking in my direction. “J.C. told me they had the funeral today.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” I reply softly, getting up from the couch and trying to find a way to tell him the truth. In another time, I would have welcomed the idea of us starting over and trying to make things work, a sort of clean slate. But now---knowing Jesse has come back, knowing Luke and I just made love, knowing he’s my other half---I’d just be lying to myself. How can any other man live up to him?

“Oh. What happened?”

“Brad---” I turn around to find him standing in front of me, his eyes emanating a mixure of concern and apprehension. “I’m…I’m in love with him.”

“I see,” he whispers calmly, but even his eyes can’t hide the sharp blow from my revelation, both a harsh and sobering truth. “So why did you come back early? Shouldn’t you be together?”

“We haven’t spoken since I left. He asked why we’re not together and I told him I didn’t know. I just needed time. He got upset and told me to leave.”

“It's amazing
With the blink of an eye

You finally see the light
It's amazing
When the moment arrives

That you know you'll

Be alright”

“I’m not gonna lie. I still want to be with you.” There’s a tenderness and honesty in his voice that just tugs at my heartstrings, bringing back that old, familiar pull. His pale blue eyes---which I used to get lost in---silently plead in their last attempts to hang on to me, to what we had. “But…if Luke is the one you love…then…there’s nothing I can do.”

Silence.

“I think you should spend the rest of your time with your mom and sister here,” I make an attempt to appease his disappointment. One of us has to be strong and firm. Otherwise, we will fall back into our own pattern of blindly believing that any “love” is better than nothing. Two people who are afraid to be alone---and left with the daunting task of facing their own selves. “They need you. Especially Calla. She really needs a male figure in her life. And who knows? Maybe your whole family can finally reunite someday.” I reach out to cup his handsome face---a face I know very well---and search his eyes. “You had a tough life Brad, but you didn’t let it break your spirit. You actually became a doctor.”

“That’s because you believed in me,” he whispers, the finality in his voice evident by a different kind of strain, causing his eyes to well up. Even though neither of us put it into words, we feel it deep in our hearts. We both know that the time has come to let each other go. “What am I gonna do without you?”

“You’ll…b-be…okay,” I break down, no longer able to fight the impending tears. It hurts---really hurts to have to do this. Brad has been such a significant part of my life, of my identity, that it’s almost like…saying goodbye to a part of myself. Like an alcoholic throwing away the last bottle of liquor, a food addict throwing away the last slice of cake, a smoker throwing away the last pack of cigarettes and a junkie throwing away the last syringe. They know it’s destructive and unhealthy, but it’s a kind of comfort they learned to depend on. “You’re a survivor.”

“I’m gonna miss you,” he leans in to give me a soft, lingering kiss---his tepid tears mixing with mine.

“I’m gonna miss you too,” I pull him close and cling to him for what seems like an eternity; savoring his scent, his voice, his presence and the warmth of his body for the last time.

“Bye, baby.” He searches my eyes as his hand finds my face, gently caressing it. “Be happy.”

I nod quietly. Just as he pulls away, I find myself calling out his name.

“Brad?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Can you give Luke a call? He really needs a friend right now.”

“Yeah.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

Location: Hangman's Tree National Landmark
Date: Tuesday, 1/10/2012
Time: 4:47 p.m.

Winter came, bringing Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s with it. The first few weeks without Luke was hard, but I managed to survive by keeping myself busy at work. Everytime I found myself thinking about him or longing for him, I’d just push him out of my mind. And if I couldn’t, I’d wait until I was in the privacy of my home to cry. It helped that I could always call my dad and Adam if I ever got lonely. They would cheer me up and remind me they miss me. For Christmas, they came over. I cooked dinner, I showed them around town the next day and we had a picnic at the lake before they drove back to Bridgeport.

I haven’t spoken to Brad since that day we said our goodbyes. He hasn’t called or tried to stop by the house. I knew that going in, but still---I didn’t expect to be hit with such loneliness now that he’s out of my life. I’ve had to learn to just take it one day at a time. This is how it should be. This is what I need. That’s what I tell myself anyway.

Instead of going straight home from work today, I decide to stop by Hangman’s Tree. The weather hasn’t changed since I was last here. It’s just as crisp and sunny as fall---with a light, cool breeze. As I stand on the spot where everything started---and ended, I’m filled with overwhelming sorrow as the sweet essence of azaleas, roses and camellias fill the air.

This is the spot where Jesse died in my arms. This is the very same spot where we made a promise to each other 100 years ago. What happened to that promise? How is it that I’m alone again, just like Emma, and left to carry a torch for the rest of my life?

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as I drop to my knees and bury my face in my hands, lost in my own sobs. “I’m so sorry, Emma. I’m sorry you had to leave your children behind. I’m sorry you couldn’t be with the man you loved. I’m so sorry, William. I’m sorry I loved another man. I’m sorry you had to catch us together.

“Jesse…oh Jesse. I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you when you left for war. I’m sorry I kept your daughter from you. I’m sorry that I waited too long to leave my husband. I’m so sorry that things had to end so tragically.

“And Luke…my Luke. You came back for me and what did I do? I wasted my time with Brad. I was too blind to appreciate you and I pushed you away. I’m so sorry about your dad. I’m so sorry for screwing things up.

“I need to let you go. I’m sorry it didn’t work out in this life. I should have told you I love you. I should have told you how I felt. And now...you’re gone.

“Goodbye my love,” I wipe my eyes as I take one last look at the barren oak tree---and the bittersweet memories permanently etched on it. “Be happy.”

“That one last shot's

Permanent vacation
And how high can you fly

With broken wings?
Life's a journey

Not a destination”

*Copyright 2013 Lyn C.S.*
---------------------------------------------------------

"Amazing" by Aerosmith
Video by: AerosmithSongz

Chapter Forty-Eight (Hurt)

Previously, on "Memoirs Of A City Girl":
Ch. 47 (You And I)

-Knowing I wouldn’t be able to make the two-hour drive

back to Appaloosa, I decided to call sick from work.

-I made pancakes, Luke’s favorite, but we didn’t even

get to finish our breakfast.

-We ended up having a tryst on the dining table.

-Afterwards, Luke and I slow danced, just like his parents.

-He sang “You and I” by Stevie Wonder to me, which

happens to be one of my favorite songs.

-It was that moment that I realized he’s the one I’ve been

looking for all my life---and I started to have dangerous

visions of a life with him---being his wife and the mother 

of his children.

-This grasp of happiness was so close, I could taste it, but

it terrified me. Terrified of losing him all over again.

-He asked why we’re not together, and I freaked out.

-I couldn’t give him answer and the pressure was too much.

-He got angry and lashed out at me, telling me to go back to Brad.

-I lashed back by accusing him of being a scared little chicken

shit who left me high and dry---twice.

-Not only did he tell me to leave, bu he also said he wished he

never met me. I was crushed.

-Even his saying “I love you” wasn’t enough to keep me from

walking out the door.

Location: 272 Windsor Drive
Date: Wednesday, 11/9/2011
Time: 11:41 a.m.

I must have sat in the truck for an hour, numbly watching the flecks of snow continuously land on the windshield. Instead of turning on the wiper to clear the white layer of ice crystals blurring my vision---I let it accumulate---hoping it will shield me from the rest of the world. I lean against the door, the side of my face pressed against the cold glass as another set of tears leak from my swollen eyes. Pulling the hood of my sweatshirt over my head, I curl up in a near-fetal position as I try to keep myself warm---and hidden---an injured animal licking its fresh wounds.

Luke…The mere thought of his name hurts. The sound of his voice echoing through my head hurts. His laugh, his smile, the way his lips and hands have the ability to pause time; just enough to let my mind and body absorb the beauty of his touch. What was once a glimpse of heaven has now become the flashbacks of hell. What was once a dream has now become a recurring nightmare. And every moment of passion, every tender memory, every taste of closeness, every recollection of raw honesty in his eyes cuts through my heart repeatedly. With every teardrop---it cuts---slashing mercilessly at old scars.

Luke was my refuge when things went wrong in my life. He was my safe shore during perilous storms, and I crawled back to him for safety. And now…now that I finally felt safe enough to tread the water again, a tsunami knocked me down without warning, leaving me mangled, bruised and all alone. There is no refuge. There is nowhere to go for comfort.

And if I came back to Bridgeport only to be slapped by another disappointment, I might as well try to confront its source.

"I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that's real"

Taking a deep breath, I gather my courage---and pieces of my heart---and force myself out of the car. The early chill of winter greets my face as I walk towards the front of the house, feeling even more anxious at the sight of the old familiar door. Bittersweet memories---mostly bitter, some sweet---greet me like long-lost relatives I haven’t thought about, but now recognize.

 The five year old girl who wondered why her mother never hugged her. The 11 year old sixth-grader who was punished and yelled at a lot, even when she didn’t understand what she did wrong. The overweight 16 year old high school junior who felt awkward, self-conscious and invisible because she was constantly compared to her older sister. The 22 year old working student who dreamed of the knight in shining armor who would rescue her from the realities of her stunted, sheltered life.

And now, the 26 year old would-be-doctor-turned-teacher who feels just as inadequate now as she did as a child---knocking at her parents’ door.

I take a deep breath, trying to instruct my heart to calm down.

As the door slowly opens, my father’s widened amber-hazel eyes greet me directly. The silence between recognition is brief, but long enough for both of us to notice. He blinks one more time, whispering, “Lyndsey…”

“Hi, daddy.” I haven’t called him this in a long time, but at this point, it seems to be the only thing that gives me solace. It reminds me that no matter how old I get or how far I move away from home, I’m still someone’s daughter.

“Sweetheart!” Without thought, he closes the door and takes me in his arms, whispering, “I’ve missed you.”

I’m not sure if it’s the familiar warmth of his embrace or the nostalgic aroma of Old Spice and pine-scented aftershave emanating from his jacket, but I shrink in defeat and start sobbing. “M-me too…dad…”

“What’s the matter?” he asks, briefly pulling away to search my face, “Have you been crying?”

“Everything has g-gone wrong. Every…thing.”

“It’ll be okay.” He pulls me closer, making me forget the snow falling on our faces, and soon, our body heat won’t be enough to fight off the blistering cold. But it doesn’t matter. In my father’s arms, I am that little girl again; beaten by the world, laughed at by fate and all I can really do is cry. And hope that my father can make the pain go away---perhaps make it all better. “I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

“For what?”

“I should have…I should have protected you more. I should have been more involved.”

“Y-yes,” I reply quietly, burying my face in his neck, “you should have, dad. All my life I felt unworthy. Like…like I can never be good enough. I tried so hard to please you and mom...to be a good daughter…but…you always loved Naveah more than me.”

“That’s not true. I’ve always loved you. I just…I just didn’t know how to show it.”

“Oh, daddy…”

“I’m sorry, pumpkin,” he smooths out my hair and softly kisses my forehead, “I’m sorry I failed you.”

As I sit on the old avocado colored sofa that spent most of its life wrapped in clear plastic---protected from inevitable stains and permanent human imprint---I become bombarded with the essence of a life I once knew. The dampness in the air, the lingering scent of potpourri scattered in ceramic vases, the almost penetrating aroma of wet lo mein noodles and fish sauce screaming to remind me of half of my identity and sturdy walls cradling family photos---and everyone else’s sanity.

There’s a quiet assurance as I look at my father sitting across me pensively. What I once took as distance and coldness from his demeanor now resonates as a subtle frailty of a man who did the best the he could---with what he knew. There’s weariness in his eyes, in the gray roots overtaking his dark locks, in the deep crows feet hiding behind his glasses and the force of age declaring itself on his face. Even as I fill him in on my life in Appaloosa---my house, Mr. Nunu, Nicki, my job as a teacher---the sadness in his smile is hard to ignore.

“Brad was here a few weeks ago,” he comments unexpectedly after a moment of silence.

I stare at the wooden floor for a moment before returning his gaze. “What did he want?”

“Well, he brought back your car,” he explains calmly before searching my eyes---as if dreading the words coming out of his mouth, “And…he told us what happened. We know what your sister did.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t planned on my family knowing about the failures of my personal life. It’s something I’d rather forget, but here they are, peering into my face again. They seem to be mocking me, basking in my fresh wounds, pointing and laughing, as if I was deluded enough to think that I can actually escape. What are you going to do now, Lyndsey? What did you expect? That the whole world wouldn’t know how pathetic you are? What are you even doing here? You think your parents are going to give you support? They seem to provoke. Even Luke doesn’t want you!

Enough! I’ve heard enough! I scream back at them, their voices morphing into something familiar---a particular shrill voice that I still dread to this day. The sound of my own mother berating me with her thick accent.

“Frank, honey, who’s at the---” Amidsts the footsteps, my mom appears with widened eyes gazing down at me. “Lyndsey…”

“Mom...”

"The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything"

Without a word, not even a weak attempt at a half-hearted hug, she walks by me and sits down next to my dad. I can feel her brown eyes, which I apparently inherited, flash at me like the abrupt winter air---icy and piercing. A part of me hoped that she would at least acknowledge my return, but a part of me also knew that’s as foolish as expecting the next hour to be sunny, clear and a toasty 85 degrees. Summer will always be hot. Winter will always be cold. Leaves will always fall in autumn. It will always rain in spring. It would take nothing less than a miracle or a practical joke from God to make things any different.

“We also know about the baby,” my dad cuts through the awkward silence---and my mother’s evaluative head-to-toe stare, “I’m so sorry, honey.”

“Yeah…” I look away and shift in my seat in an attempt to control the pain and emptiness gnawing at my insides, threatening to flood my eyes. But I force myself to think of something else, anything that would prevent me from crying in front of this woman, who is a stranger to sympathy---or remorse, for that matter. Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry!

 “I’m furious at Brad for what he did,” he adds, “I wanted to kill him. But if it wasn’t for him telling the truth, we would never know where to find you.”

My dad makes a good point. Brad didn’t have to say anything, let alone come here and own up to his actions. But he did, knowing he was risking his ties with my family. And the fact that he never mentioned it…could be a sign that he did it for me. Not necessarily for his selfish glory. “He gave you my address?”

“Yes, I forced it out of him.”

“So why didn’t you ever visit me?”

“I wanted to, but Adam told me to give you more time. You’ve been through enough as it is.”

“I need to talk to Nav. Where is she?”

“She’s staying with her friend Jessica.”

“She moved out?”

“We kicked her out after she admitted---”

“I never kick Nav out,” my mom abruptly rises, her eyes seething with contempt in my direction. “Your father did! You happy now? She was out on streets!”

 “Xhun, stop! What are you---“ my dad immediately blocks her path, which appears to make its way towards me.

“It’s okay, dad. I can handle this.” I give him a grateful glance before summoning up my own courage to get off the couch and face my own mother. That tender moment of honesty between us earlier (my father and I) gave me a new backbone---a sort of quiet, knowing security that I was not alone---that my father has been on my side this whole time. Taking a deep breath, I look her dead in the eyes and retort, “Are you seriously blaming me for what happened? You’re still defending her? You’re still---”

“You no talk to me that way, little girl!” Her lips curl in that familiar wrath, nostrils flaring, letting me know that I pissed her off even more. “You better know your---”

“No. It’s my turn to talk.” Calmly, I take another step towards her with unwavering gaze, until we are face to face, barely a foot within each other. “And if I have to tie you up to get you to listen, I will do it,” I add, the silent fury boiling within me---a lifetime of unleashed fury---letting it pierce her almond-shaped eyes, her face, her throat, until it forces her to swallow whatever remnant of oxygen or saliva down her throat. “Don’t make me do it, mom.”

Silence.

“All my life, you’ve treated me like shit,” I continue. The moment she tries to look away, I grab her chin and force her to meet my eyes. “Look at me, damn you! You made it clear that you didn’t love me and you made it clear that Naveah is your favorite. I was never pretty enough, I was never skinny enough, I was never smart enough, my cooking was never good enough, the house could never be clean enough, I was damn near Adam’s nanny! She never had to do anything. She got away with everything. Me? I had to go to med school just to prove that I didn’t have to marry a doctor.

“Do you have any idea how much you messed up my self-esteem? Do you have any idea how much Nav hurt me when she slept with Brad? Of all people? Do you have any idea how close I was to jumping off the bridge when I found them together? I almost killed myself, mom! Because of what your daughter did! And you have the audacity to blame me for getting her kicked out?”

SMACK. The palm of her hand lands on my cheek---leaving a familiar, burning sting.

“You think…you can t-talk to…me like that?” Her voice breaks, failing to suppress the tears---and lash of truth leaking from her eyes. In a barely detectable flash of time, I painted a picture vivid enough for her to see what she has done. Despite her pride, she continues to emotionally attack---but I know she saw herself in me, gnawing at her forgotten conscience. “Because you move out? You think you grown? You’re nothing…b-but…ungrateful child!”

“You know what, Mom?” I shake my head in disgust. “Thank you. Thank you for helping me see what I needed to see. All these years, I thought there was something wrong with me. The truth is, it’s you. You’re just a sad, bitter woman who took everything out on me. I’m sorry your parents disowned you. I’m sorry you had to leave China at such a young age. I’m sorry you had to abandon your dreams when you married dad. But you have no right to treat me this way. And if I ever become a mother, I hope to God I never become like you.”

Her mouth drops with a gasp---as if that’s the only way to ease the blow of my words, hurled at her like shiny, pointed, sharpened spears---straight into her heart. This shock reverberates all over the walls of the living room, further intensifying the thick silence. I watch myself standing in front of my speechless parents. I watch myself become freed.

I turn to my father, kiss him on the cheek and whisper, “I love you, dad. Come visit me some time.”

I walk out the door.

"And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt"



Location: Appaloosa Plains Public School
Date: Friday, 11/11/2011
Time: 3:35 p.m.

When I returned to work yesterday, I received a phone call from a parent who preferred to be called by her first name, Rosie. She wanted to set up a conference regarding her daughter’s behavior in class. I told her that I was available today after students are dismissed at 3:15 p.m. When she and her daughter entered my classroom, I was awestruck at this woman’s presence. Flaming mahogany hair that’s graying at the roots, a robust figure draped in earthy colored clothes, empty champagne eyes and heavy make-up. Sitting next to her is the very same girl who called me a "bitch" on my first day of work. She does not look pleased.

“Calla, you owe Ms. Santori an apology,” Rosie turns to her head-strung daughter, the tone in her voice serious and unflinching. “And we are not leaving until she gets one.”

“Whatever,” Calla briefly glances at me before rolling her pale blue eyes and looking down at my desk. “I’m not apologizing to anyone.”

“Do you know she’s the only teacher that actually talked to me first? Before writing you up?” Her mother continues to look in her direction---her disappointment evident---despite Calla’s refusal to look up and acknowledge either of us. “The rest of them send you to the dean with a referral.”

Silence.

I sit back and quietly study this girl in front of me. This 16 year old girl who is failing half of her classes, who is constantly getting in trouble, who is crying out for something---perhaps attention---who obviously feels unheard and invisible in her own way. I’ve been that girl. Calla wants to scream at the world while I shrunk away in self-doubt. The fact that her mother is here, trying to drill some sense into her, shows that she cares.

But where is the angst coming from? Could it be an absent father? Having just confronted my own parents---and my issues with them---I suddenly feel an obligation to this girl. She should not have to wait until she’s 26 years old with damaged self-esteem to try and make sense of her life. She needs guidance now---before it’s too late.

“Calla, I said this to your mom on the phone and now I’m going to say it to you,” I lean closer, carefully choosing my words and the tone of my voice. “I think you’re a bright girl, but you don’t want to show it. You obviously have an influence over the students, but you use that influence in a negative way. Now, I get that I have to earn your respect since I’m new, but you need to understand that there are consequences to your actions.”

“Wait…” She looks up and finally meets my gaze, somewhat bewildered by what I just said. “You think I’m bright?”

“Of course,” I flash her a warm smile, which instantly softens her guarded face. “When you decide to pay attention in class, you actually finish your assignments. And when you finish your assignments, other students do too.”

“Oh…” a soft chuckle escapes her lips as she looks at Rosie sheepishly---who is shaking her head but smiling---before returning to me in a sort of awe. “You notice that?”

“I notice everything.”

“I’m sorry for disrespecting you, Ms. Santori,” Calla’s voice softens as she sits up in her chair, her true personality finally outshining the loud colors of her watermelon-inspired hair. She’s just like any other teenager---still a child---who needs something to believe in, and someone who believes in her. Some people call this encouragement. “It’s just…none of the teachers ever stick around and we pretty much gave up on learning.”

“I understand. And appreciate your apology.” A wave of warmth and calm washes over me as I absorb what just transpired. The girl who is known as the troublemaker, who was responsible for scaring away former teachers, who refused to apologize even in front of her mother---just opened up to me. They gave up on learning because everyone else quit on them. And it’s this very same moment that I realize where I need to be. Not in a hospital, but in a classroom. I can always go back to finish my residency, but I owe it to these kids to finish the school year. “Listen, I’m going to do my best to help you guys out. But I need your help too.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I need you to use your influence in a good way. I need you to be a good example.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a leader, Calla. And leaders need to set an example so other people can follow.”

“Nobody’s ever said good things to Calla, Ms. Santori,” Rosie breaks her silence as she pats her daughter’s back. “She’s always getting in trouble.”

“That’s because they don’t see her the way I do,” I reply with the utmost sincerity, looking at Calla the whole time.

“Thank you, Ms. Santori.” A rare glow emanates from this teenager’s face, a mixture of pride and this thing that can be very hard for teachers to earn---respect.

“You’re welcome. Don’t forget, we have a test next week so you need to study. And I’ve been checking on your grades from your other classes. You’re failing half of them. If you want to graduate next year, you need to start stepping up.”

“Yes, maam.”

“Come on, sweetie. Your teacher needs to go home too.” Rosie gathers her purse as she rises up from her chair. “Thanks again, Ms. Santori. I’m really glad they hired you.”

“You’re welcome,” I reply, but my heart stops at the sight of Brad coming in. I told him that we needed to talk when I returned from Bridgeport, but he insisted that we do it over dinner. And I certainly didn’t expect him to show up in my classroom. Dr. Benson must have told him where I work. My eyes return to Rosie as I add, “Don’t hesitate to call me if you have any questions.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Rosie mutters when she turns around and sees Brad standing behind her. “I didn’t mean to keep your husband waiting.”

“It's okay, this is Brad. He’s… a friend of mine.” I give a brief but somewhat awkward introduction as I step away from my desk. “Brad, this is Ms. Clem---”

“Brad?” She repeats his name almost reluctantly---as if it just triggered painful memories---but her eyes widen in undeniable recognition. “Bradley?”

“Mom?”

“What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end”

*Copyright 2013 Lyn C.S.*
--------------------------------------

"Hurt" Cover by Johnny Cash
Original by Nine Inch Nails
Video by: GCBeep