Free Remembering Phoenix by Randa Lynn

smiling, living . When I see that mother and son, jealousy, anger, and sadness overwhelms me. It consumes everything within me. Why can’t I have that? What did I do so damn wrong in my life to be punished so badly? Was it not enough to lose my son? Was it not enough that I had to lose every ounce of memory I had of him, too?
    Was it not enough?
    Because I’ve had enough.
    I grab the bottle of liquor off the coffee table and down it as I stare at the tear stained pictures.
    There’s a picture of Lizzie, Phoenix, and me at Lizzie’s high school graduation. Phoenix is in my arms; his curly blonde hair is perfect against his tan skin. He’s kissing Lizzie on the cheek and holding a sucker in one hand. I’m smiling, genuinely happy, just staring at my son in awe.
    Why can’t I be happy again? Lizzie doesn’t get it. Mom and Dad don’t get it. Stetson doesn’t get it. They always say how sorry they are. I don’t want I’m sorry, I just want my memory.
    Why do people always say sorry? I think Slayter is the only person who hasn’t apologized for the shit that’s happened to me. Why him? Why is he the one who understands that I don’t need apologies?
    I grab the picture I always carry with me and clutch it to my chest. “Phoenix,” I cry, “please, please come back to me.”
    Grabbing the bottle again, I let the burn of the alcohol take away my pain, even if only for a moment.
     

“I’ll email the paperwork over later. I’m not home right now to get to a computer, and I didn’t send the files to my phone.”
    “I need the paperwork by the end of the day, so I can read it over with the client and their attorneys tomorrow and close on this deal,” Paul, my right hand man, says. He’s worked in the construction business since before I ever came along, and I’m damn lucky he’s stuck with me.
    “Paul. Have you forgotten this is my business? I’m the boss. But don’t worry, you’ll get the damn paperwork. Patience.”
    “Yeah, I hear ya, Beck.”
    I hang up the phone and slide it in my pocket, looking up at the apartment number. I don’t really know why I’m here. I mean, yeah, I want my coat, but I have twenty more. I don’t need my coat.
    But I need to see Charlie. I’ve had this weird feeling in my gut since last night and it’s got her name all over it. It could be because I haven’t quit thinking about her since the night of Stetson and Lizzie’s wedding. It could be because that kiss has me messed up.
    I don’t do messed up. Yet here I am about to knock on her door and use the excuse that I’m here for my coat.
    I’m so messed up.
    I rap my knuckles three times and stand back and wait. And wait. And wait. And wait some more.
    I knock three more times.
    Finally, the door cracks open. One eye peeps at me through the crack of the door. “You’ve got to be kidding me?”
    “I need my coat.”
    “Jacket,” she says, opening the door wider. “How do you know where I live? Stalker.”
    “Uh, I might have an informant in the form of a brother. Don’t blame him. I really need my coat.” I point inside. “Are you letting me enter your lair?”
    She cuts her eyes to me, and when I get a good look at tem—bloodshot and puffy—my heart dips. It can only mean one thing…
    Phoenix.
    “Never mind,” I say, not wanting to make her shove me out the door before I ever make it through. “I’m coming in. Thanks.”
    She turns around and walks down the short hallway until we enter the living room. The first thing that catches my eyes is a liquor bottle shattered on the floor. Then, I see pictures scattered everywhere. “What the hell happened here?” I ask, looking around her apartment further. My eyes go to the walls. Bare, white walls. Not a single picture hung on them. What photographer doesn’t have any pictures hanging on their wall? It’s completely bare of any personal touches, minus the mounds of pictures strewn across the floor.
    “Nothing,” she quickly replies, falling back