It took me a lot longer to realize I could survive, and it took me much longer to realize I could even be happy again, and longer still to believe it was okay to be happy again.
☼19☼
Good-bye
Saying good-bye to Martha wasn’t the worst, surprisingly.
Of course, I didn’t think about it at the time, but leaving in general was just the worst.
I blocked out everything I had of Raiya—from our memories together to the places she lived, worked, and dreamed—and left it all, all for my own desired comfort, rather than facing the uncomfortable truths I left behind.
Still, saying good-bye to Martha was like ripping the flesh off just over my heart.
Leaving my parents behind proved to be more easy and more difficult than I expected. I don’t think I ever officially said good-bye to them. In the first weeks of summer break, something changed between us.
Cheryl busied herself with her work and her new firm, but stopped working overtime. She was home when I came home from work, and she was home when I came home from school after it started up at the end of summer. I can’t remember a time in my life where she deliberately sought to give me more attention, and paid much more attention to what I wanted and what I needed. And me, finally receiving her attentions without working hard or trying to please her, or even without trying to tick her off, found that her love was a very small something I could learn to depend on in a world where more of myself had disappeared.
She even gave up the weird diets.
Mark, in comparison, began ignoring me and avoiding me. He said barely anything to me over the next several months. He was there, and he did things for me, but his forlorn detachment was enough to cause a sense of relief when I finally got ready to head off to college the next summer, starting a semester earlier than originally intended. I think that the handshake he gave me as I headed out the door settled something of whatever was bothering him about me, but I didn’t know for sure.
I gave him a smile, regardless, because I knew as much as my heart was broken, he had been trusted and burdened with my true identity for longer than I had known, and he had protected me as best as he could. Some people would think that was expected of a doctor, or a parent, but I knew just how hard it really was to put yourself before any other person, even if you did love them. It is something that, if expected, becomes selfish and destructive.
No, my parents weren’t hard to leave.
It was Rachel who was perhaps the hardest to say good-bye to.
When I walked into her café for the last time, the place where I had called my second home for the majority of my high school years, her eyes met mine and immediately sparkled with tears.
“Hamilton.”
I was a little surprised she recognized me. I didn’t go back to the café until I knew it was time to say good-bye for forever. “Hi, Rachel.”
She tried to smile, to play it off, but it was Letty who really saved her from losing it.
“Just get it over with,” Letty said. “You’ll feel better.”
“Mom!” Rachel gaped at her.
“What? It’s true.”
“I can’t believe you’re being so rude.”
“Oh, well, dear. Life goes on,” she scoffed, before lighting up a cigarette. Rachel, for once, did not stop her. Instead, she sat down, slumped over, and closed her eyes.
When she opened them, she thanked me, for everything, and that was that. There was so much unsaid but unable to be said, and so much we knew just couldn’t be said. Saying some of those things would have ended something inside of us, and I had little enough left to go on. Rachel didn’t look like she had the gumption for it, either, so we said, “See you soon,” and “Keep in touch,” and “Thanks,” and that was it.
I did not even ask for a doggie bag.
Letty was, I suppose, trying to be helpful in her own way, but I think she wasn’t completely right. Time goes on, the world goes on, and even life may go on, but it doesn’t mean living goes on.
*☼*
So I sat there, on the train, with my bags packed along with the pieces of my heart. A new chapter of my life was beginning. Or maybe it was ending, or both. Or maybe even neither. I didn’t know.
I am a lawyer at heart, and as I saw it, there was a very big distinction between beginning and ending that started with hope and ended with expectation.
Thinking of endings made me think of my graduation day, of the speech I gave as valedictorian. I had somehow managed to find a speech inside of me devoid of several important memories, but still it managed to reveal more of myself than I ever could have guessed. My twelfth grade English teacher, Mrs. Runsallus, painstakingly prodded me to get it done and finished.
I remember making my speech. But rather than reading through the one I’d written, I made a new speech up, talking about how small things were great things, and how ordinary things became extraordinary, all thanks to life and love and other stuff that I thought sounded good. (This is the part that, should Hollywood ever get the rights to make a movie about me, they will have to make up. In all fairness, I was doing that, too, so I figured it would even out in the end.)
I didn’t mention Raiya.
Maybe some part of me was trying to make up for never giving Raiya the speech she deserved. I was doing this, of course, in typical grief-stricken illogical fashion, by trying to pretend I’d never met her.
A wind had whipped by, scattering the music of heaven past me, and I found the first sparkle of hope as I looked down at my scattered speech papers, only to see the barest hint of a springtime violet anchored to the summer dirt. I picked it up, and then I heard it.
“I’ll be waiting for you.”
I heard the words, and nothing happened.
Nothing happened. Nothing.
It was a moment that breaks you or builds you, and you have the choice to decide which.
Later on, I knew, as the train left Apollo City, beginning its hustle toward Pittsburgh, pulling past the buildings of the city of my birth and childhood, past the places remembered, places forgotten, the foreign and the familiar, all the things which had made me who I was and promised to remain in me as I became something more … I knew I hadn’t made up my mind just yet.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Dear Reader,
Please, don’t panic! This is not the end of the story. There’s one more book to go yet, and to tide you over until then, Chapter 1 immediately follows my usual message.
If you have read my other work, or if you are familiar with my story, you might know I began write this series my last year of high school. It would take several rewrites and many drafts to become what I wanted, but eventually, Slumbering was born in its current form, and the rest have followed faithfully.
This book is part of that original pain. I didn’t have a completely happy ending to high school. I was done, but the triumph I expected was more like a tepid pleasure, which almost makes it worse than outright disappointment. Not because I didn’t finish well (I did), but because so much seemed unsettled. I expected things to be finished, but they were far from over. This realization was not only unexpected, but disappointing and depressing.
I’ve come to see that, while time does not heal all, it does provide important perspective. Years later, as I write this, some months before my ten-year high school reunion, I can see that. It is not only my pain I understand better, but God’s hand through it all. I can look back, and I can see more glory and more grace than I could see while I was facing the fire. It is indeed an ongoing, eternal moment that continues to astound me.
In the believer’s journey, we go through trials and pain. Suffering is a given in this life. As my favorite line from Cry, the Beloved Country, says, “For our Lord suffered.”
As dark and deep suffering is, love still lights the way. Love carries us through it, love lifts us up out of it, and love is waiting for us, surrounding us beyond the pain.
For this reason, part of this book’s them
e is courage. Be courageous. Dare to suffer for what you love, for what you believe, for what is right.
Christians are called to holiness more than happiness. There is a cost to choosing that life, to committing to that life, to continuing through to the end. It is not easy.
We must be brave. Power is at its most potent when it is laid down for love. And we know this to be true, for this is what our Lord did.
So, be brave and take heart. Hamilton and I will see you soon, next time, in the last book in this series, appropriately titled Everlasting (Book 7 of the Starlight Chronicles).
Until We Meet Again,
C. S. Johnson
AUTHOR’S ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
EDITOR
Jennifer C. Sell
Jennifer Clark Sell is a professional book editor and proofreader. She works from her home in Southern California. With her years of professional and personal experience, she offers several quality packages for authors. Find her at https://www.facebook.com/JenniferSellEditingService.
Photo Credit: Savannah Sell
AUTHOR’S ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
COVER ILLUSTRATOR
Amalia Chitulescu
Amalia Iuliana Chitulescu is a digital artist from Campina, Romania. Raised in a small town, this self-taught artist has a technique which is delineated by the contrast between obscurity and enlightenment, using dark elements in a dreamy world. Her areas of expertise include the use of theatrical concepts to create a macabre and surrealistic world that still maintains a highly recognizable attachment to reality. Bridging a diaphanous environment with light elements, an eerie view, she creates a dream world of dark beauty, done with a blend of photography and digital painting. Find her at https://www.facebook.com/Amalia.Chitulescu.Digital.Art
Photo Credit: Amalia Chitulescu
SAMPLE READING
Chapter 1from
EVERLASTING
BOOK SEVEN of THE STARLIGHT CHRONICLES
C. S. Johnson
☼1☼
Beginning Again
For the fourth or fifth time in less than an hour, I looked down at my legal pad, only to realize I had no idea what was going on.
My office seemed too bright. The lights seemed too sharp. I glanced around as the client in front of me continued to babble on about some financial legal nonsense.
Everything else was in its place: My various diplomas and certificates, celebrating my undergrad and graduate degrees, hung on the wall, proudly and prominently displayed right across from the entrance; my desk was off to the side, facing the wall, with the window behind me; my books were stacked in precise order on the bookshelf, tucked in with some of my awards. Among them was my newest one, the from the Pittsburgh Law and Order Association, declaring my position as “Best Associate Lawyer of the Year” that arrived just before Thanksgiving last month.
Outside, the streets of my adopted city were hobbled with people looking for warmth and a cozy corner to cuddle up in, all while the snow continually dumped down out of the sky.
Nothing was out of place, not even the typical, dull-looking client in front of me.
No wonder I was bored.
The room was a temple to law and intellect, and I’d made sure to erase quite a bit of my heart in the process of setting it up.
No wonder that, instead of taking notes, I’d been doodling.
Despite the fact I had suddenly caught myself not paying attention to my meeting (again), I smiled thoughtfully, almost longingly. Raiya used to do this same thing in Martha’s class, I recalled.
Instantly, as though I’d touched some mental flame inside of my mind, I flinched. Where in the world did that thought come from?
I didn’t like to think of her anymore. Not if I could help it.
Of course, now that I was completely against thinking about her, my mind wasn’t listening to me, and I wasn’t sure I could help it.
I didn’t have to glance at the calendar on the wall of my office to know more than seven years had passed since that day.
Seven years. Seven years.
Seven years, and I still crumbled as I remembered Raiya’s body as it collapsed against mine, still sucked in my breath as the last breath of her words passed me by, still felt the dying chill of the fire-feather she’d tucked into her hair as it flicked into darkness.
Seven years, and it was still much too painful for me to acknowledge that the only person I’d ever loved more than myself, I was unable to save.
“Sir?”
I nearly jumped out of my seat as I realized that I was still in the middle of a legal hearing. “Yes?” I straightened up in my seat, trying to look nonchalant, and, as was my usual, managed to succeed enough to get out of any possible trouble.
“Are you all right? You look … troubled,” my client, Mr. Brown, muttered reproachfully.
I put on my most winning smile. “I’m perfectly fine, Mr. Brown. I am just making some extensive notes on your business concerns so we will be ready with the rebuttal at the end of the trial.” I tucked the drawing up against my chest, making sure he couldn’t see it, just to be on the safe side.
Mr. Brown visibly relaxed. “Oh … well, good.” He nodded. “For a moment there, I could’ve sworn you started daydreaming.”
I almost shouted, “Lawyers don’t daydream!” It took a surprising amount of self-control not to.
Instead, I laughed cordially. “No, no, sir, not at all. I assure you, I am the most capable lawyer available for handling your case. I know what is needed to get the job done.”
“See to it, then,” Mr. Brown said as he looked at his watch. “Well, I best be off for now. I’m to meet my wife for dinner.”
“Well, don’t keep her waiting on my account.” I smiled. “I’ll get your files pulled and we’ll be ready for court as soon as the judges assign a day for it.”
“Good to hear.”
“Thank you for your time. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll have your case wrapped up in as little time as possible.”
“I’ll send you your retainer check in the mail.” He grinned. “With a nice Christmas bonus, just to make sure you know how I appreciate your dedication.”
And then Mr. Brown picked up his hat, put on his jacket, and walked out the door.
When he was gone, I just rolled my eyes. I hated representing people who weren’t concerned so much with justice as with getting out of justice, but I had to do my job. I supposed.
I didn’t like to think about that too much either.
When I did allow myself those small moments of reflection, I longed for another life. But I could hear a certain annoying voice in my head, chiding me for making life one big to-do list.
Then I quickly squelched my desire. I would, to this day, never admit to Elysian, my old “pet” dragon from years ago, was right. Not if I could avoid it.
I began to pack up my stuff for the day. I had my own dinner plans for tonight.
One of my best friends from my hometown of Apollo City was coming in to see me, and I wanted to have some time to prepare for the unpleasant lecture I was sure to receive.
My eyes fell to the notepad drawings I’d created while Mr. Brown was droning on and on about the unfairness of his situation, the integrity of his investment portfolio, and how his company was no doubt infiltrated with spies who had set him up to look like an embezzler.
My face softened for a moment, as the picture staring back at me was of a lovely young woman with wings fluttering out of her head. Even though the picture was not in color, I knew her eyes were the shade of the most vibrant spring violets, and her hair was the color of Christmas gingerbread. And even though the picture was not supposed to be real, the watchfulness and steadfastness of her eyes were more than mere reflections.
I sat down in my chair and looked at the picture glumly. When did I get so good at drawing? I wondered to myself.
I’d been only working as a lawyer here at Pharris & Dahlonega for … was it a year, already? Surely, I hadn’t been doodling for all
that time.
And when did I start allowing myself to think of Raiya again?
Of course, it’s entirely possible I never really forgot her, I mused, since she was the—No! I’m not going to think about it!
I silently chastised myself as I packed up my things. Thinking about her only made it worse, I knew.
I barely remembered graduating from high school at all. When I looked back at my pictures from that time, I could tell part of me was not there.
I didn’t have any pictures from the summer after I graduated. All I could remember was looking for her and not finding her, and having to drag around this emptiness in my chest all the time.
Thankfully, I’d transferred out of Apollo City College’s dual enrollment program, and actual college began soon enough. I’d whisked myself away to Pittsburgh, to a new city, to a new home, a new school, and new distractions.
But no new self to go along with it. I was still in love with a memory.
Anger and sadness pushed through me; I shoved the doodles into my briefcase and slammed it shut. I’ll deal with those later. I can’t think of this now. I have stuff to do …
Once more, all of my secret longing, all of my hurt and anger, all of it was swept away under the carpet of scheduling.
*☼*
“So, you’re a bonafide Steelers’ fan now, huh, Dinger? That’s great.” The man sitting across the table from me laughed heartily.
I smiled at him; he was one of my oldest friends, Mikey Salyards. “Come on, why wouldn’t I? They are among the best teams in history.”
Mikey stopped laughing and turned more somber. “You’ve changed a lot, I guess.”
“I haven’t changed, Mikey. I’m still the best of best of best.”
If anything, I thought, it’s Mikey who’s changed since high school. The awkward teenage years and the pressure of always being in my shadow had dispersed to reveal a strong, confident, and capable (looking) person underneath. It was almost a shock for me to see my old friend looking so different.