Finally Finding Faith
Page 8The cab rolls to a stop and I get out and then take her hand to help her stand. I don’t let it go as I walk her to the door. “I want to kiss you,” I blurt out. I want it with every fiber of my being.
She shakes her head. “Not unless you plan to come back tomorrow. And the next day. And the next.” She bites her lips together. A strand of hair gets caught on her lip and I pull it free and tuck it behind her ear.
I can’t promise her anything. “Thank you for spending the day with me today,” I say quietly. She steps up onto the bottom step and we’re nose to nose. Her breath smells like French fries and ketchup.
“Thank you, Daniel,” she says. “I really appreciate today. I needed it more than you know.”
I nod. I don’t know what to say to her now.
“Goodbye, Daniel,” she whispers.
“Goodbye, Faith,” I whisper back. I close my eyes and breathe in the scent that’s all hers. It’s coffee and antiperspirant and… Faith.
Faith goes inside and closes the door with a soft snick behind her. She doesn’t dawdle. She doesn’t hesitate. She just leaves.
I take the cab back to my hotel and decide to walk around the city a little while since I have time until midnight. I walk around and enjoy the hustle and bustle, and feel invested in the people around me for the first time in a very long time. I smile at an elderly woman and she grins back at me. I take her arm and help her across the street, even though I’m almost as slow as she is. I pick up a toy a little girl drops from her stroller and hand it to her, and she smiles up at me. There’s happiness all around me. Why have I been missing this for so long? Why couldn’t I see what’s right in front of me?
I walk around until my leg starts to hurt, and I realize it’s a quarter until midnight. I have to hurry, if I’m going to do what I set out to do. I let myself in the room. I have had all this planned so well for so long. I unlock the safe and take out my gun. And I take out a few bottles of pain pills in case I am too much of a chicken shit to use the gun. I line them up on the bathroom counter and stare at them.
I sit down on the edge of the tub and let the minutes tick by. I look toward the TV, where I can hear the countdown. I pick up the gun and click a round into the chamber. My f**king hands are shaking.
I wait.
I blow out a heavy breath.
Less than a minute until midnight. I purposefully got a room near the fireworks in hopes it would drown out the sound of the gunfire. Wishful thinking I suppose.
Who will clean up the mess when I’m gone?
That’s a stupid question.
10.
9.
8.
7.
6.
5.
4.
I stop counting, because there’s a new sound in the room. I look around. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. I look down at my watch. It’s making the faintest of whispers, but I hear it over the fireworks. It’s midnight. It’s the new year. And my watch just started back up.
Holy shit.
I heave in a deep breath, watching my chest bellow with air. My chest fills, and I glory in it. I am alive. My watch didn’t stop after all.
But what I was about to do… that’s some serious shit. I need some help. I can’t do this alone. I know it. But for the first time in a really long time, I have faith that I am not alone.
Holy cow. My watch is working. I press my palm to the face of it and squeeze.
I call my CO, because he’ll be able to help me. I scare him shitless when I start to talk to him, but he’s understanding. He promises to help. And he puts things in motion to get me some help for my PTSD and my depression. He does it while he has me on his cell phone line. I can hear him barking orders into the landline and it makes me smile.
I am not alone.
I am not alone.
I am not alone.
I am shaking while I wait for the car they’re sending. But I have one more thing I need to do. I open my computer and start to shop. I have money left from my mother’s life insurance policy. I never had anyone to spend it on. But now I do.
I go on the internet and find what I’m looking for. I call the number and realize they’re in New York. I scream into the answering machine that it’s an emergency and they’re going to think I’m f**king nuts. Maybe I am. But almost immediately, someone calls me back. I tell her what I need. She agrees to do it. I dictate a quick note to go with it, and she promises to put it in the box when she has the package delivered. The store is in New York. They can take it to Faith by courier tomorrow, she says.
I wait for my car.
I wait for help.
And I am not alone.
Faith
I wake up with thoughts of Daniel in the back of my mind. I wonder where he is and what he’s doing. I get dressed and go check on Nan. Granddad is reading to her quietly, so I leave them to it. She likes to hear him talk. It calms her.
Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door. A woman stands at the bottom step and she looks up at me. She’s holding a box. “Are you Faith?” she asks.
I nod.
“You’re one lucky woman,” she says. She laughs. “He told me to send this by courier, but I wanted to see the woman who gets this. I hope you don’t mind.” She shakes my hand, looking into my eyes.
“I don’t understand,” I say.
“Open the box,” she says with a kind smile. She turns and calls, “Happy New Year!” over her shoulder.
“Happy New Year,” I murmur back.
I take the box inside and set it on the table. I open the box first, because seriously, who opens the card first? Come on…
I look inside and can’t believe my eyes. It’s a German Black Forest clock with tiny dancers who come out of the clock when the hour chimes. I immediately wonder what goes on behind closed doors. I smile. “Who could have sent…” I whisper to myself. But I already know. I can feel it in my heart.
“Granddad!” I call. “Look!”
I carry the clock toward Nan’s room and I hold it up for them to see. It’s truly in pristine condition. It probably cost a shit ton of money.
“Nan,” he chides.
But I cover his hand with mine. She’s so happy. He stops talking.
“I love it so much,” Nan says. She grabs Granddad and pulls him down to kiss her. He laughs against her lips. I wipe my eyes and sneak out of the room, because I’m dying to read the card.
I open it.
Faith,
They say time waits for no one, but it waited for me once and I hope you’ll wait for me now.
Daniel
PS – You fixed my watch. Thank you.
Faith
I pull my glasses from my nose and set my letter to the side. Daniel’s newest letter makes me feel hopeful. He is improving every day while in therapy. Daniel went from being a really active man in the service to not active at all after he lost his leg. He was a runner, and he suddenly couldn’t run anymore. The doctors think that contributed to his depression. His PTSD is a little harder to get through, but he’s making progress. His letters are full of laughter and jokes. And some seriously sexy innuendos.
It has been four months since he sent the clock, and I would love to see him, particularly on a day like today. Today we bury Nan, and I feel like someone took a piece of my soul. Yet, I feel uplifted at the same time. I know she’s no longer suffering and that’s what matters. The last few months were hard for her. We watched her decline, and Granddad never left her side.
She made us put the clock that Daniel sent in her room, even though it chimed on the hour, every hour. She loved it. She spoke of Daniel often, even though she only met him once. I think she knew how I feel about him. I even read her his letters. Or at least the parts that were clean enough. I’ve fallen head over heels in love with the man who sends me these letters. I just wish I could see him.
A voice calls from the front door. “Faith!” It’s Granddad. The funeral car must be here.
“I’m coming,” I call. I grab my umbrella because we’re not sure what the weather is going to be like.
My parents are here. They’ve been here a lot this past month, which is good for them and was good for Nan. And good for me, too, if I have to admit it. Watching Nan decline was hard. It made me feel helpless and alone.
Nan died a week ago. I’m not sad about it anymore. Today is a special day when we can honor her life. We asked visitors to arrive at the church in their brightest and best party clothes because Nan would have liked that.
We get to the church before everyone else and we go into a room to wait for the service to start. Granddad and I stand alone in the room for a few minutes and he turns to me suddenly. He takes my shoulders in his hands and looks me in the eye. I think he’s gotten shorter through the years. But it makes no matter. He looks at me and he says, “Don’t waste a minute, Faith. Not a single minute.”
Tears fill my eyes. I can’t help it. “Okay,” I breathe.
“You have to grab hold to love when it finds you,” he says. “Sometimes it’s work. And sometimes it’s wonderful. But never take it for granted. Because when your life is over and you look back, it’s the only f**king thing that ever mattered, Faith. I swear it.”
“We’re in a church,” I whisper to him playfully.
“I know,” he whispers back. He looks into my face again. “Don’t waste a minute, Faithy,” he says. “You understand?”
“I think I do.”
“Even on a day like today, grab love when it comes to you.” He looks over my shoulder and smiles. I turn around and I freeze. Standing in the doorway is Daniel. He’s dressed in his Class A’s, and he’s so amazingly handsome that he takes my breath.
I look at Granddad because I almost feel like I need permission to be happy today. It almost feels wrong. But it feels so right, too. “Grab it, Faith,” he whispers vehemently. “Never let it go.”
Daniel hasn’t moved. He’s holding a rose in his hand and he’s smiling. I wipe the tears from my face and then I give it up. I run toward him and hit him square in the chest. He wraps his arms around me and holds me tightly. I almost knock him over, but he just laughs and holds me close. I sob into his dress uniform, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
“Hey, Faith?” he finally says, when my sobs have quieted.
I look up at him. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
He brushes the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs and looks at my lips like he wants to kiss me. “I have one question for you,” he says.
“What?” I ask.
I look into his brown eyes and want to fall into them and stay there.
“Do you have panties on?” he asks playfully. He tugs a lock of my hair.
I laugh. I can’t help it. It was exactly what I needed. He is what I need. “I do,” I say. “But you can fix that later.”
He freezes in my arms, his body tensing. “Promise?” he whispers.
“I swear it,” I say. I step onto my tiptoes and press my lips to his. Our first kiss. He tests me, his mouth tentative and soft. It’s sweet and respectful. But that’s not what I want. I nip his lower lip with my teeth.
He groans. “We’re in a church,” he pulls his head back to say.
“I know, but Granddad just dropped the f-bomb on me, so I think a kiss is okay.” I giggle. It’s a watery sound, but I’m so happy he’s here. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“You couldn’t have thought I would miss this day,” he says, tipping my face up. “I know how much she meant to you.”
“How long can you stay?” I ask.
“As long as you’ll have me,” he says.
My heart leaps. There’s a knock on the door so I push it open and find Granddad on the other side. “They’re seating the family,” he says.
Daniel takes his hand from mine to go sit with the visitors and I feel the loss of him immediately. I start to protest, but before I can, Granddad shoos us forward and tells the ushers, “He’s family. Let him through.”
Daniel smiles and comes with us, sliding into the bench seat. He leans across my body to shake hands with my dad, and I am so happy he’s here that I can’t sit even an inch away from him. I don’t just hold his hand. I wrap my arm through his and hold him tightly. Mom smiles at me and winks.
I lay my head on his shoulder through the service and feel him clutch my hand tighter when I start to sob. He is my strength today. I’ll be his another day. That’s how it works, right?
Daniel
We sat through the service and the gathering afterward, and I’m a little surprised when Faith’s grandfather pulls me to the side, because his apartment is still full of people. Nan was well loved, apparently. He leads me to his office where he pours two snifters of some kind of amber liquid. He hands one to me and clinks glasses with me.
I lift it to my lips because I don’t want to be rude. It burns the whole way down. “It’ll put hair on your chest,” he says.
I laugh and take another sip. I don’t typically drink. And really don’t want this, but he’s drinking his. I can’t imagine how hard today is for him.
“I have something for you,” he says. He opens his desk drawer and hands me a small jewelry box.