The Way It Used to Be

33

I had slept on and off through the night. I couldn't get comfortable, and I felt immense anxiety over the coming days with Beau... and with Jamie. When Beau was asleep and the house was silent, I thought about Jamie. My fiancée. I thought about the promise I had made that I didn't love Beau anymore. I knew every day when I woke up that it was a lie, but Beau's wreck proved that I couldn't live a life without her.

When I thought for a split second that Beau had died, too, I wanted to lay down and die along with her. Regardless of whether or not Beau and I were together, I couldn't exist in a world where she didn't. I couldn't wake up to a day that she didn't see.

When I woke up on Sunday, Beau was the first thought in my mind. I looked down at her, smoothed her hair away from her face, and carefully slid from her bed without waking her. I had spent so many nights in this same bed, her curled against my chest, my arms around her. Why was I so nervous now?

I spent the morning calling the funeral home and pacing the kitchen floor, trying to figure out what I was going to say to Jamie.  When I finally called her, she was still asleep. My sweet, adorable, gentle fiancée answered the phone still half-asleep

"Mmmhello?" she rasped into the phone.
"Hey, love, did I wake you? I thought you'd be up by now?" I glanced at the clock in the kitchen. It was after nine.

I could hear her moving around, most likely sitting up. "No, babe, I'm up. How are you? Are you home?"

I didn't know how to tell her I was still at Beau's and probably would be for a while. "Um, no, Jamie." I paused for effect. "Look, she's a mess. I'm gonna hang around for a few days. Try to get her settled. Handle the funeral."

I could hear her sigh, but it wasn't in her nature to be mean or accusatory. "Well, what if I come over? I could bring food?  Or anything?"

I shook my head in response before I realized she couldn't hear that. "I don't think so. I think she just needs to take it easy. Jack and I are both here, but... we are just kind of staying out of her way. Letting her rest. Handling visitors."

I thought of Beau upstairs, asleep, and the fact that I had slept with her. I wasn't staying out of her way. I couldn't believe how easy it was to lie to her.

"Are we okay?" she asked. I knew it was her way of asking me if I was somehow falling for Beau again. I also knew that I had never stopped loving Beau.

"Yes, love, I promise. I'm just tired... and rattled. Verne was like a second mother to me. You know that." I paused, dragging a hand through my hair. "I'll be over as soon as I can."

She sighed again before adding, "Let me know the funeral arrangements?"

"Of course," I answered, knowing there was no possible way I'd get her to stay away and no lie I could tell that would make sense. "It's on Tuesday at 1:00. Visitation is at 10:00."

"I'll be there for you and Jack," she responded, before adding, "I love you."

"I love you, too," I answered. "Bye, love." I hung up, and I hadn't lied. I did love her. I really did. And I could imagine a life with her.

But imagining a life with Beau was far easier.

When I went back upstairs to check on her, she was awake. It took everything I had not to run to her. Hold her. Kiss her.

I hated how she felt pain every time she moved. I resolved to help her in the only way I could think of... but the bath was going to kill me.

Beau and I hadn't been so close in so long. And now, I was pulling her clothes off, careful today avoid her cast or her cuts and bruises. Careful not to seem too eager. 

I didn't want to be turned on by her in this moment. I didn't need to be. She was hurt. I was engaged. Her only family had just died. She had just rolled down the highway.

I tried desperately turn my thoughts off, but the more I worked my hands through her hair, over her skin, the more I wanted her. The more I wanted this to be more than me just bathing her because she couldn't do it herself.

I was doing this because I loved her.

And even with the soap and the scrubby... where I was touching her... God damn, it was going to kill me. She could still bring me to my knees. All I wanted to do was crawl into the bathtub with her and hold her.

I had to consciously remind myself to take slow, steady breaths.

When the bath was over, I dried her off. I dressed her in one of my old T-shirt's. Of course she still had a drawer full of my shirts. I still had things of hers hidden away in my room.

Her engagement ring was still hidden in the bottom of my nightstand drawer.

I loved seeing her in my shirt. Even after all this time. I loved combing her hair. I loved being close to her. I was under the same spell I had been under since I met her, constantly craving more.

When she was tucked back into her bed, I finally began to shake my thoughts. I had to remind myself that I was engaged. I could be concerned for Beau. I could care about Beau. I could even wish things had been different. But I couldn't love Beau anymore.

The rest of the morning was relatively boring and predictable. People stopped by. They were in and out of the house all morning, talking to me and Jack, leaving platters of fried chicken and casseroles for us and Beau to get through the coming days.

Beau slept for hours. I checked on her every half hour or so, just to see if she needed me or anything. A few times, I sat down next to her. I wanted to make this go away for her. I wanted to be able to wake her and tell her it was all a dream. She was in pain, physically and emotionally. She wouldn't eat. She barely spoke. I was worried about her.

I'm here, Beautiful. I've got you.