Free Your Song by Gina Elle Page A

anyone. Never talked to anyone about how much I was missing Danny. Never shared stories about him with anyone. He was gone and I felt like the old Eric was too. Talk about being all alone. Not only were the memories buried six feet under with Danny but also for all of us hurting, so was a future.
    I smile when I see the first sign of tulips as I wind my way along the bike trail at James Gardens. Early June and the flowerbeds are filled with bright red and purple flowers. The rock gardens sit as peacefully as ever and the pond where Danny and I used to stop and sit by is as tranquil as always.  The nature trails are filling up with eager hikers this Sunday morning. I stop my bike and get off to rest on one of the park benches.
    I pull out my iPhone sitting in my pouch to check the time. 11:16 A.M. and one missed call . I didn’t hear the phone ring. I check for the caller ID and it reads Private Caller. Again? Didn’t I get a couple of calls on my house line last night that showed up as Private Caller as well?  I wonder who’s been trying to get a hold of me.
    I return the phone to my pouch and take a long drink of water from my water bottle. I think about Mr. Callahan and am saddened. Nearing the end of his life. I think about which would be better: to just die suddenly and unexpectedly with little or no time to even realize you were dying, like Danny did?
    O r would it be worse knowing that your death was imminent, allowing you the time to prepare your loved ones for the end, like Mr. Callahan? I think about my own death and conclude that if I were to die today, my death wouldn’t impact anyone as strongly as Danny’s death affected Lara. Life without a love to share it with feels unfulfilled. Life without the one you love is just as unfulfilling. You’re damned either way. But, after meeting Caroline, I decide I have to give love a chance. That is, if I can find her. Tomorrow at work, I’m going to start working on Plan B in “Operation Seeking Caroline.”
    I ride up to my parents’ front door around noon and lean my bike up against the wall of their front porch. My parents live at the intersection of Islington and Eglinton, a short ride from James Gardens. Time to pay them a visit, I figure, and to drop in to visit Mr. Callahan, just a few doors away. As soon as I walk through the door, I’m welcomed home by the memorable aroma of my mother’s paella simmering on the stove and Billy Joel on the stereo.
    “I had a feeling we’d see you today,” my mother comes and meets me at the front door, cooking spoon in hand, donning the infamous apron around her waist. I give her a kiss on the cheek and then make my way to the bathroom to wash my hands and face. My father is sitting at the kitchen table reading the Sunday paper. I walk in and take my seat at the table, the same seat I sat in for the twenty-five years when I lived here. I just like to keep things the way they were.
    “How are you doing today?” my dad asks me before even looking up from the Sports page. My parents are living the anniversary of Danny’s death as well.
    “I rode to James Gardens,” I offer, not sure what else there is to say.
    “He doesn’t look very well,” my mother says while stirring the paella at the stove. Neither of us says a word.
    “David told me you guys went to High Park yesterday,” my dad tries to steer the conversation in a different direction. When David was a baby and young boy, my parents used to watch him all the time while Claudia was putting in all those long hours at the law firm. My parents share a very close bond with their only grandchild, spoiling him like crazy.   
    “Yeah . . . we went on a long hike and then to Dairy Queen,” I say reaching for my fork. My mother has placed a huge plate of paella in front of me. I take in the smell of the saffron, lemon zest, bay leaf, chicken, and other spices before digging in. She loaded the paella today with sausage, chicken, and shrimp, knowing how much I