Kim Karr - Torn

He sits in the chair and just looks at me as if uncertain of how to answer. It’s a look that makes me smile. “It has nothing to do with sex, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Almost horrified, he tells me, “No, that’s not what I’m thinking at all.”

“I know, I’m just kidding, silly.” I want to reassure him and let him know that even though I’m sad, I will be okay.

My mother’s hope chest is old, and the creamy-white paint is almost completely peeled off. Bending down to reach it, I open the lid and realize I haven’t looked in here in a long time, not since the break-in when I had to put everything back in it that wasn’t destroyed.

I smile when I see my dolls, yearbooks, diplomas, and various mementos. As I’m digging through the contents, I feel his arms wrap around my waist and he hugs me tightly. I clutch his arms and squeeze him back for a few seconds before moving to sift through the items for what I want to show him.

When I find it, I have to hold it close to my heart first. Then I turn to hand it to him. Smiling, I point to the small, blond-haired girl in the photo, surrounded by seven adults. “For my tenth birthday, when my parents asked what I wanted, it was an easy choice—I wanted to meet Elton John. My mom started to say no, but my Dad just beamed at me and told me of course he could arrange that. And he did.”

I look at River and he’s studying the picture as I move across it with my finger, “That’s Grammy, Auntie, Uncle Scott, Mom, Dad, Grace, and that is Sir Elton John himself. My dad even managed a private show before the concert where Elton John sang ‘Believe’ and then ‘Happy Birthday’ to me.”

River leans over and kisses my cheek. “Wow, what an awesome birthday present, especially for a ten-year-old.”

I grin because I remember that day so vividly.

He looks at me and in complete seriousness asks, “Why Elton John and not Hootie and the Blowfish or someone a ten-year-old might gush over?”

“Because of Grace. Elton John was her favorite. Every day after school I stayed with her until my parents came home. We would sing ‘Crocodile Rock’ and ‘Bennie and the Jets’ so many times, Serena threatened to throw the CD away and Ben would run and hide in his room. Neither of them liked Elton. But Grace and I loved him and she always said meeting him was one of the best days of her life.” I notice he didn’t even flinch this time at the sound of Ben’s name.

River takes the picture and walks it over to the dresser, standing it on display next to the one of my parents and me. “How about we leave it out so we can both enjoy that memory?”

I nod and as I start to close the chest, I notice the screwdriver that Ben had put in there so long ago and know what I have to do to stay close with Grace. But the doorbell breaks me out of my thoughts as I take the screwdriver and close the chest.

Before either of us moves to answer the door, Xander is yelling, “Loverboy, Muse, we’re coming in so you better be decent.”

I look over to River and I can see he’s somewhat unsure about this, but the light in his eyes tells me he’s happy. Just hearing Xander’s smart-ass voice like everything is okay between them warms my heart. I hold out my hand and he grabs it. Leading the way, I squeeze it tightly and he does the same. Odd that I’m the one reassuring him right now. It makes me feel a little more whole.

The front door is still open as we enter the foyer. Looking into the family room I can see that Xander is standing near Bell, who has a shopping bag in one hand and is pointing with the other. She’s giving orders to Garrett about where to set the tinfoil-covered pans of food, Nix is lugging in a cooler, and Xander is just standing there, his arms crossed, watching the scene unfold.

We stand in the foyer and River clears his throat. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Xander’s eyes shift to River. “Talk to your sister. She insisted we bring dinner over.”

River looks at him. “Thank you for that.”

He looks back. “No problem. Actually, we all wanted to be here for the both of you.”

My eyes move to Bell, who looks a little apprehensive as she shrugs her shoulders and I give her a warm smile, assuring her that our relationship is intact. Then I shift my gaze to Xander. “Thank you, Xander.”

“Anything for you, Muse,” he says.

River nods in appreciation to both his brother and sister. Everyone looks over at us and it’s quiet for a split second until Garrett says, “Why is everyone acting like someone just died?”

Bell gives him a swift kick and he turns pale and freezes. His eyes dart to mine, “Shit. Oh my God, Dahlia. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I was only trying to lighten the mood.”

Nix smacks Garrett across the back of his head and says, “Man, you always talk out of your ass. It’s a good thing no one ever listens.”

We all laugh to break the tension and the flurry of activity continues.

I rest my head on River’s shoulder as we watch them set up the meal they’ve brought over for us. He kisses my hair and then whispers to me, “Are you okay with this?”

I nod and let go of his hand, turning to cup his cheek. Motioning with my eyes to Xander, I quietly urge, “Go talk to him.”

With a determined nod, he gives me a swift kiss and heads toward the kitchen. I watch him walk with that same gait I’ve seen a thousand times. But it’s thrilling each time—how lucky am I to have a caring, compassionate, and loving man like him in my life?

He cautiously approaches Xander, who pats him on the shoulder then motions him outside to the deck. Xander looks back before exiting the sliding glass door to give me a nod and a quick smile.

“Hey Dahlia, you doing okay?” Nix asks and I have to blink because I never saw him approach me. I have to swallow repeatedly to hold back the tears. I wasn’t expecting condolences from any of these guys. As I try to find the words to answer, Garrett is at my side, giving me a one-armed hug. “I’m sorry for your loss, Dahlia.”

I take a deep breath and return his hug. “Thank you,” I manage and step back before turning to Nix and answering his question. “I’m doing better than I expected.”

It’s true. I am. I’m actually interacting with people, rather than withdrawing into my own world like I have so many times before—a world where I can’t focus on what people are saying to me, where my responses are nothing but mindless nods, and my hugs are nothing but stiff embraces. I’m stronger than that now.

“Hey, you guys are suffocating her. Move away and let her breathe,” Bell says.

She takes my hand, pulling me to the sofa. Once we sit she looks anywhere but at me. I want to be the first to say something, to reassure her that I’m not upset at her in the least bit, but she beats me to it.

“I’m so sorry all this has happened. I don’t even know what to say. Do you think of me differently?” she asks, hesitating as she tucks her foot under her leg.

Taking her hand, I cover it with mine. “Bell, look at me.” Her sad green eyes dart to mine and I say, “Of course not. I don’t blame you for anything that happened. I don’t. So please don’t think that. I know the situation is awkward, but let’s not let it change things between us. Okay?”

Nodding, she bites her lip. “You know I never knew he was the same person.”

“Let’s just not discuss him. Please?”

“I’m sorry, Dahlia,” she says. Then, just like her brother, she has the uncanny ability to change topics seamlessly. “How are you doing?”

“Much better than I ever thought I would. How about we see what’s in all those trays in the kitchen? I’m hungry.”

She smiles at me and pulls me in for a big hug. “I love you, Dahlia.”