Bitter (A Winter Story)
âKaiden, no, no, no,â I sob as I rock my sonâs lifeless body. âNo.â The final whisper escaping my lips before I canât form anything other than tears.
I flip the thinly shaved meat before cutting it into fine pieces, moving the strip-loin to a cooler part of the grill and topping the ingredients with a few cold pads of garlic-rosemary butter and a couple of slices of provolone. Itâll give the meat a rich, delicious flavor by complementing the cheese without making it overly greasy. Dousing the hottest part of the grill with a herb-and-pepper-infused oil, I throw a handful of sliced mushrooms, peppers, and onions on the cooktop to sizzle and caramelize.
It is currently eight in the morning, but someone wanted my popular Philly Cheesesteak instead of a normal breakfast of eggs and toast. I thought it strange, but to each his own. As long as no one bothered me they could do whatever they liked. The snow and wind was howling outside, propelling our small, northeastern townâs mild winter into something bordering on arctic, so I was surprised anyone even came in for a meal. My sandwich was known for its peppery kick, so maybe the patron needed something to warm him up, but itâs still loony for anyone to be here. Of course, Iâm here, but I braved the storm so I didnât have to sit at home alone with unwanted thoughts.
I flip the veggies a few times, my turner spatula scraping the good bits into the food. Once everything is ready, I brush the inside of a hoagie roll with a generous coat of warm alfredo sauce. Iâm fond of saying this is my âsecret sauceâ to the perfect sandwich, when, in reality, it takes several layers of flavors to give it its signature, artful kick. I love taking ingredients and puzzling through different combinations to see what worksâespecially sandwiches. I despise sammies where everything oozes out of the sides and covers your hands more than your tongue. That is no way to eat food. My technique is a compromise to the traditional Philly Cheesesteak. The customers of Gioâs get all the flavor and all of the ingredients into their mouth. A total win.
I slide the plate onto the warming counter and ding the bell. âOrder up!â My boss, Gio, tries to catch my eye as he snatches the plate, but I refuse to look at him. I donât want to see the pity loitering around his attempts at conversation.
Iâve been at Gioâs for nine years, and many in town would consider us friends. We are friends, but after my son died a year ago our relationship changed. He could never truly understand the heartache of that loss, despite loving my kid like a favorite nephew. What he never grasps is that I will figure out how to handle life without Kaiden on my ownâlike I do everything else.
Itâs been a year since I found my son drowned by the river flowing behind my house. The coronerâs report said Kaidenâs body had seized from the cold, preventing him from swimming. The police think he slipped on a patch of ice, plunging him into the current, and pulled along under a mostly iced-over surface, he didnât have a chance to breathe. Damage done, the cruel waters released his body nearly six miles downstream from where he had started. The details mean little to me. It shouldnât have happened. Kaiden was eight and knew plenty well that he wasnât allowed to be by the river alone. I wish I could know what prompted him to go to the river, but more than anything I just want my son back.
Turning my back on Gio, I step deeper into the kitchen. I donât want to hear any of his positivity and advice on how to handle my tragedy, not today. What I need is a little relief from my memories. To combat them, I pop a couple pills to help with the anxiety welling in my chest. Itâs the second time today Iâve downed the drugs, but itâs the only thing that seems to help. Being awake is miserable, and this is the only way I can cope.
âJeremy! Hey, Jeremy!â Gio hollers from the front of the house.
I scrub my hands across my eyes before answering, âYea?â I jump as a hand lands on my shoulder. How did he get to me so fast? Iâm lucky Gio didnât see me take the pills, heâd have my head.
âHey, man. How you doinâ?â
I turn to face my boss. âNot the best. I just need something to keep my mind off today.â
âHey, Jeremy, itâll get better man. Youâre always going to miss Kaiden, but one day the pain wonât be so bad.â
I narrow my eyes at him. âI donât need a pep talk, Gio.â
He holds his hands up in surrender, âI wasnât trying to give you a pep talk, Jer. I miss the kid, too.â
I shove past him. âJust leave me alone.â
âMaybe I could understand better if you would open up to me,â he says, following.
I whirl on him. âI said leave me alone!â
He steps back and I can see the hurt in his eyes. Gioâs my best friend, but thereâs no mistaking the look of confused betrayal.
He turns his interest to something else, anything besides me, and says, âGo home, Jer. Iâm shuttinâ it down for today.â
I grit my teeth for a few seconds, unwilling to comply to the dismissal. I shouldnât be sent home for being a little angry. My arguments are on the verge of an avalanche, yet when he steps out of my path and glances to the front, I deflate a little. I see it in his face. His comment is not about me but about the raging snowstorm outside. âYea, okay.â
I crawl home in my 2005 red Chevy Silverado. It takes me forty-five minutes to make the six-mile trekâthe storm is that bad. Iâve not seen a white-out like this in four or five years. Gio is lucky he lives directly above the diner; he just has to walk up a flight of stairs.
My home phone is screaming as I open the door from the garage. I have a cellphone too, but you canât always rely on towers in this area. I let it go to voicemail as I unwrap. Not thirty seconds later, the phone screams again, and Iâm tempted to ignore it, but if itâs my mother sheâll never stop until I answer.
âHello?â I say, a little grudgingly.
âOh, thank God, Jeremy! I was so worried about you. Iâve been trying to call all morning,â my mother says.
âI was at the diner, Ma.â
âYou went out in this storm? Are you insane? Do you want to get yourself killed?â
Her needless panic sets me on edge and darkens my mood, especially her last question. I donât want to be reminded of death in any form on today of all days. âI have to work, Ma. Gotta pay a mortgage somehow. Iâm home now, so you can stop worrying.â
âIâll always worry about you, Jeremy. Youâre my son.â
I donât respond.
She could never stand silence, so she adds, âHow are you doing today?â
âIâm fine,â I reply. Logically, my brain tells me Iâm not fine, but I have no desire to talk about any of the things that are making me not fine, things I just want to process alone. Right now, I want to take some sleeping pills and go to bed. Itâs the most efficient way to sail through today since I donât have the diner to distract me.
Her voice is soft as she says, âHoney, I miss Kaiden too. Time willââ
âMa, Iâm not really in the mood to talk about this,â I cut her off before she, too, can lament the loss of my son. I donât think she gets a right to speak since sheâs never had to bury any of her kids.
âJeremy, you need to talk to someone about this, holding it in will only make it worse,â she says quietly. âMaybe someone at chââ
âGoodbye, Ma.â
It wasnât the nicest thing for me to do, but I really didnât want to hear it. I donât need advice on how to get through my problems. Iâll figure it out for myself, I always have, always will.
Alone, finally, I look around at my sparse home. Last year the place was decked out with all kinds of Christmas stuff. Kaiden celebrated this time of year with gusto. He always begged me to start putting things up at the beginning of November and wouldnât let me take anything down until the end of January, at which point I had to force his cooperation on the matter. This year, I couldnât muster the excitement to decorate for the holidays, not even in memory of my son. The dim emptiness is a glaring reminder of what I donât have. Life.
The thought sends a pang through my chest. This is why I went to work this morning, so I didnât have to look at this all day. I stand frozen in the middle of my living room, staring at the ashy fireplace. I should start a fire, but the idea only perpetuates the ache in my chest because Kaiden loved having a fire. He would sit in front of the warmth for hours reading, drawing, or playing with his toys, all while sipping âDadâs Special Hot Chocolateâ. I just added cinnamon and nutmeg, but for Kaiden no one made hot chocolate like I did. I pull in a staccato breath as the thought rolls through my brain. I really donât want to be here.
I spin and stride back toward my keys, yanking on my coat. I know that leaving is the stupidest thing I could do right now, but I donât care. I just want to be anywhere but in this house.
I crawl again through the streets of town and make my way past the last barely-visible stop light. The road, at least what I think is the road, is nothing but a fluffy white blanket, yet I donât turn around and I donât take my foot off the gas. I make it for thirty minutes at this snailâs pace before I hear a loud *Ka-chunk* and my truck stops moving. I give it a little gas but my tires just spin and I see extra white fluff poof up for a second around my windows.
I was only planning on going for a short ride, just to get out for a bit, and of course, this happens. I pound the steering wheel in my frustration. Iâm an idiot for not adding chains to my tires. Knowing Iâm stuck, I shut off the engine. I need to save gas so I can heat the cab at regular intervals to keep from freezing. I consider grabbing a road flare before hunkering down, but no one will be driving by in this mess, and Iâd rather save a lifeline for when it doesnât have the potential to get buried under snow. Instead, I grab the heavy wool blanket I always keep in the back for the âjust in caseâ moments, and settle into a comfortable position. I pop a couple more anxiety pills and a few pills to help me sleep before shutting my eyes.
tap, tap, tap I groan at the sound. tap, tap, tap I sit up, groggy, and turn my stiff neck toward the driver side window. tap, tap, tap
âHey! I know youâre in there! I can see your outline! You okay?â A faint female voice filters through the still howling wind.
Confused, I just stare at the window.
âHey! If you wanna be left here, fine by me, but can you at least let me know youâre okay?â The woman shouts again.
I fumble for the door handle. I have to see who the other insane person is besides me that would come out in this weather, plus I would actually like to be rescued. I open the door, and I canât tell who it is. This woman is wrapped head to toe to protect her skin from the cold. I blink stupidly at her for a moment before saying, âCan you give me a ride back to town?â
âSure thing, bub, my trucks over here,â she shouts back, thumbing in the direction of her rumbling diesel.
Iâm still groggy from the sleeping pills, so I fumble my way out of my truck and over to hers. Once safely hidden behind doors again, she unwraps her head covering. Curly auburn locks spring free from the containment. I canât help it; I gape at her.
âWould you shut your trap, you look ridiculous,â Laina Morello says to me with her well-known sarcasm.
I do as she demands, and then say, âIâm sorry. The town mechanic is the last person I expected to see out here.â
âAnd I didnât expect to find a red pick-up in a snow ditch with an idiot inside either,â she replies.
I glance over at Laina, but sheâs concentrating on the road too much to pay attention to me. Weâre silent for a while, and the tension is killing me, yet I donât want to speak first. I donât know Laina well enough to venture into small-talk.
âSo what were you doing out here, Jeremy?â Laina asks. Thereâs a slight hint of an accent, though Iâve never been able to pinpoint the region from the few brief conversations we've exchanged.
The skepticism in her voice grates at my ears and picks at my heart. I wish I could put my finger on why it does but I canât.
âI just needed to get away,â I say. Itâs a completely truthful answer, and a safe one.
She snorts. âAnd you thought cominâ out here was the best place to do it? Go to your neighborâs house if you need a change a scenery, but you shouldnât have been driving.â
âAnd whatâs your excuse? You shouldnât be out here either,â I bite back. I donât like when people point out my carelessness.
âYouâre right, I shouldnât be out here,â she shrugs.
âThatâs not an answer, Laina.â
She lets out a heaving sigh. âI needed to run to the next town over for a spare part.â
I scoff. âAnd today was the day to go pick it up?â
She twists her hand tighter around that wheel. âWell, they wouldnât hold it for me for an extra day.â Then she mumbles, âJerks.â
âOkay, but is it worth risking your truck and your life for it?â I ask. I have to know why she deemed it so important to leave the sanctuary of her shop. I can feel the curiosity stamping around in my stomach like a kid splashing through puddles.
âI have a reputation to maintain, Jeremy. If I donât get this car fixed by tomorrow, then my customer is not going to be happy, and unhappy customers donât come back for repeat business,â she says.
The pieces click into place. Laina Morello was a transplant from a big city. Hidden beneath her heavy winter clothes, sheâs got tattoos all up and down both arms, and itâs anyoneâs guess as to where else she might be hiding more. Sheâs also got a donât-mess-with-me attitude, so with those two things combined, the residents of this town only tolerate her because sheâs a fantastic mechanic. I swear she looks at a vehicle and itâll start working again. Everyone would give an ear to know more about her history, instead they just gossip about her. I hear more than my fair share of ill-conceived ideas at the diner about Laina, and Iâll admit that even Iâve avoided her unless I needed something for my truck. It was stupid of her to come out in this storm, but I get why she did it.
âSo why did you want to get away?â She asks, cutting through my thoughts.
Is she serious? The whole town knows what happened to my son. Laina showed up here a few years after I did.
âYou really expect me to answer that?â I growl.
âYes, I do, because wallowing in memories wonât bring him back. I get that losing Kaiden hurts, but you canât let it consume you.â Quietly, she adds, âItâs not worth it.â
âAnd what would you know?â I spit. âYou canât begin to imagine what Iâm feeling, today of all days.â
She takes her eyes off the road for a split second to give me a hard stare before returning her attention to the hazy white of the snowstorm. It takes several moments, but finally she says, âI lost my father, my brother, my sister, and my mother to a drive-by shooting four years ago.â
Thatâs around the same time she showed up here. I gape for a split second. Could anyone blame me? Thatâs a heck of a story.
Continuing, Laina says, âThe gang members were pissed that my father wouldnât work on their cars any longer because he left that life. I was inside the house getting a drink at the time... making me the lucky survivor.â Tears color her last statement and there is a really long pause as she gathers herself. âSo, donât tell me that I donât know the pain youâre feeling. I lost my family just like you did. You shouldnât assume things about people, Jeremy.â Quietly, she adds, âAt least you still have people around that love you.â
Around the lump in my throat I say, âIs that why you came here? To start over?â
âYes,â Laina says.
âIâm sorry,â I say after a few seconds of nothing but the howling wind eating at our tension.
âI donât want your sympathy.â
âI meant sorry for assuming you wouldnât understand.â
Laina just nods. I finally see the first set of street lights come into view, and a tightness grips my chest. Thereâs probably still another thirty minutes before we get to my house at the speed sheâs driving, but itâs nice to be around someone whoâs experienced loss on the same level I have. I donât feel so alone, and honestly, Iâm tired of feeling alone. Thatâs mostly why I take the pills. If I spend my days in a fog, I donât have to confront the fact that my house is quiet.
Itâs interesting to me that she doesnât seem deeply affected by what happened, or maybe sheâs just really good at covering it up. Either way, I want to know if she ever âmoved onâ as everyone in my life keeps telling me.
âHow did you get over losing your family like that?â I ask.
She huffs. âYou donât just get over something like that.â She uses a couple fingers to emphasize the words âget overâ. âI still miss them more than words can express. Nothing will erase the bloody scene from my mind, but truthfullyââshe pauses to study me for a secondââI have hope that Iâll see them again.â
âHow?â I choke. âTheyâre gone, just like my son.â Those last words are so painful to speak.
She works her lips for a few moments, like sheâs testing how far she can push the subject. âIâm a believer, Jeremy. I have hope that Iâll see them again in heaven, and itâs thanks to my Papi that I have such a hope,â she says.
My gut reaction is brush off her words, but the conviction in her voice is real enough. I grew up in church, but stopped going once I left this tiny town for school. Ma has been begging me to go back, especially since I lost Kaiden, but I could never see how going into a building would help. The act would give me nothing but âPoor, Jeremyâ looks from people who donât really know me and no real answers. The conviction in Lainaâs voice, however, tells me that I shouldnât brush away the idea. Is it worth going back to my childhood roots?
It's not an idea Iâm willing to gravitate towards easily. Thereâre a lot of questions without answers from my church days. What I know for certain is being around Laina, having a piece of her story, doesnât make me feel so bitter. Iâll take her no-nonsense attitude over syrupy sympathy and overly cautious words every day of the week.
âDo you mind if I just go back to your shop with you, so I donât have to go home?â I ask quietly, hurriedly I add, âI wonât get in your way.â I bite the inside of my lip, hoping sheâll take my request seriously.
Laina raises a brow at me. As the brow lowers, she gives me the briefest of smirks. âSure, whatever floats your boat, but Iâm gonna put you to work. You donât get to sleep on my couch for free.â
I laugh. I never knew how snarky she could be. I donât think Iâve done that in a long time, laughed. It releases a pressure from me thatâs been hovering all day.
âWas that an actual laugh?â She asks with mock surprise. âWord is you donât laugh anymore.â
I sober quickly. âI donât.â
The silence compounds inside the cab as I stare out the window.
âHey,â she says. âKaiden would want you to laugh.â
I huff in disagreement.
She sighs, but says, âI used to think the same way, even with the hope that I would see my family again. With them gone, their exuberance snuffed out, what reason did I have to smile, to laugh, to be happy? How could I be happy when they had all suffered?â
Sheâs silent. I donât know if she wants me to engage in the conversation or if sheâs doing it for dramatic affect. Finally, I canât resist, so I say, âAnd...?â
âAnd the truth is, thatâs a difficult question to answer. In fact, I donât think there is an answer.â
âThatâs...helpful,â I say, rolling my eyes even though she canât see them.
âBefore I moved out here, someone told me that my family would want me to keep living. If my Papi was still around, what would he want to see? A smile, even if itâs a small one? A laugh, even itâs nothing more than a short chuckle? Me happy, even if itâs a small measure? The answer to those questions every single time is, yes, because my Papi loved me and wanted the best for me.â
I grunt. âKaiden was a kid. He didnât understand the concept of what was best for someone.â
âThatâs the biggest lie I think Iâve ever heard,â she says, with a tone that makes it feel like Iâm getting my ears boxed. âHe may not have been able to put the concept into words, but donât sit there and tell me that Kaiden didnât understand emotions. He would want you to be happy, Jeremy. To feel love.â
I want to deny her words. Picturing my sonâs smiling, laughing face feels like an elephant is parading on my chest. Yet, she has a point. Several memories flash in my vision, each one of them showing Kaiden doing his best to make sure Iâm smiling, showing me in some way that he loved me. I remember those feelings, and Laina is right, Kaiden would want that, because he was the greatest kid in the world and wanted everyone around him to be happy. Itâs easier to hold on to the comfort of pain, but I canât deny what Laina saidâmy son would want the best for me. A couple tears trickle down my cheeks. I donât bother to wipe them.
She pulls into the parking lot of her shop and starts to bundle up to face the cold. I stop her with a touch to her arm. âThanks, Laina.â
She gives me a sincere smile, and says, âNo problem, Jeremy.â She starts bundling again, and her next statement is muffled by the chunky scarf. âNow, you get to be my tool tray while I put this car back together, and tomorrow morning weâll go tow your truck outta that ditch.â
I smile, briefly watching her before moving to follow. Today will likely always be a bitter day for me, but Iâm grateful to Laina. I finally feel the first breaths of untainted air hit my lungs, and the hurt is just a little less.