Rose/ Lost & Found/ Page 6

Lost and Found

It had been six months since Mackeyla had died. Jezzabelle would never forget the day she’d received The Call.

The day up to that point hadn’t been particularly fine. It had been raining full – pelt since four that morning, and work had been so slow she could not only see the top of her desk, but the floor of her office as well.

With five thity finally rolling around, marking the end to an exceptionally hellish day, the insistent ring of her mobile all but improved her state of exhaustion.

The words ‘collide…tree…dead…Mackeyla…’ were all that Jezzabelle had remembered of that monumental phone call. It took all of three days, the fourth being the funeral, before Jezzabelle reluctantly conceeded to the fact that Mack, her best friend, her rock, her bubbly roomate would never again borrown Jezzebelle’s clothes without asking. Or drag her halfway across the city at six in the morning for a half price Gucci sale. Or forget to buy a new carton of milk for Jezzebelle’s morning coffee.

She’d never be around – and Jezzebelle just didn’t know how to live with that.

Paul, Mackeyla’s boyfriend, had been so kind to Jezzebelle. Everyday for the past six months, he delievered pizza, McDonalds, Chinese, Japanese, sandwiches, donuts…anything to get her to eat.

Jezzabelle just fel numb – all the time.

She’d quit her job, withdrawn from the prying eyes of civian life and began life as a hermit.

She’d developed a relationship with the television – it was about to get serious.

‘Mackeyla wouldn’t have wanted you to live like this, Jezzie.’ Paul said to her one day.

‘Mackeyla wouldn’t have wanted a lot of things to happen.’ Jezzabelle retorted, tears in her eyes. ‘But they did.’

‘This hasn’t exactly been easy for me either, you know.’ Paul snapped.

Jezzabelle wiped away her tears, remaining silent.

Paul leant forward. ‘Do you know that I’d asked her to marry me that day?’

Jezzabelle turned slightly to face Paul. ‘What did she say?’

Paul looked down at his hands. ‘Yes,’ he murmmered.

Jezzabelle felt a little more of her heart break. ‘I’m sorry,’ she consoled automatically.

Paul gave her a small smile.

After a full three minutes of silence, Jezzabelle realised that Paul was waiting for her to say something.

‘Chocolate fudge ice – cream,’ she managed to croak.

Paul tilted his head, staring at Jezzabelle. ‘You want some?’

Jezzabelle shook her head and grinned briefly. ‘Whenever one of us had a bad break – up, we’d always cry over chocolate fudge ice – cream. It was the best substitute for sex,’

Paul chuckled. ‘So what would you have to celebrate?’

Jezzebelle pursed her lips guiltily. ‘Double chocolate fudge ice – cream.’

The couple giggeled, then fell into silence for a moment, remember Mackeyla in their own way.

‘I remember the fist time I saw her,’ Paul reminiced fondly. ‘She was crossing the park in front of the University, the sunlight shining on her hair. You know how it looked red in the sun?’ he smiled. ‘She was wearing a white flowing sundress with those strappy gold heels.’

Jezzabelle grinned. ‘Actually, that was my dress. She loved it, and was always stealing it.’

Silence fell between them once again. To be fair, the couple hadn’t really spent much time together, even though Mackeyla had always wanted them two, being the two most important people in her life.

It had always been on Jezzebelle’s to – do list.

Glancing at Paul, Jezzabelle saw him wearing an expression that told her that he knew what she was thinking. Instead of commenting, he pursued the stroll down memory lane.

‘I loved her smell. I don’t know how, but she always smelt like honey.’

Jezzebelle smiled. ‘Welcome to the daily female routing of washing, scrubbing and moisturising.’

Paul shrugged and grinned. ‘Whatever you’re doing, keep it up.’

‘You know, I remember a time when Mack and I went out on the town. Nothing really happened, but we just…talked. All night. And it was probably the best night of my life. She taught me everything about life and love. She was…’ Jezzabelle grinned. ‘…My angel.’

They both had very fond memories of Mackeyla. She had literally been a shining star in their lives; an optimistic, compassionate and extremly kind woman. A real diamond in the rough.

After sharing a few more fond memories, and laughing together over the abundance of fun and humour that Mackeyla had brought into their lives, Paul and Jezzabelle found their eyes locked. Both single now, neither at a particular stage in which they were looking for love, both struggling to accept their recent loss…they suddenly felt drawn to one another.

It was crazy, right? But it was as if they were being pushed together by an invisible force.

Mackeyla?

Jezzabelle licked her lips. ‘How could Mack do this to me?’ As she spoke, she felt herself tear up. ‘How could she think I’d be able to go on without her?’

The tears began to flow freely, and Paul put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him.

‘I don’t know how to,’ Jezzabelle sobbed into Paul’s shoulder. ‘I don’t want to know.’

Paul remained silent, pressing her close. He felt her pain; he really did.

But most of all, he remembered the Secret.

‘I’m dying, Paul,’ Mackeyla had told him one day after a doctor’s appointment. It was Breast Cancer, too far gone to allow a glimmer of hope.

‘I don’t want to fight,’ Mackeyla had said to Paul as he’d sat down with a stunned look on his face. ‘My mother died long before her body had gone cold. She lost who she was. I didn’t even recognise her.’ She’d gulped, tears in her eyes. ‘I don’t want that to happen to me.’

Then she’d proceeded to tell him about how Jezzabelle could never find out, and that it was Mackeyla’s dying wish that Paul, who had had a thing for Jezzabelle many years ago, be there for her when in any way necessary.

‘Because she’s my angel.’

It was raining. He knew, though, that she’d be there.

It was something that she’d needed to do.

Jezzabelle stared at Mackeyla’s headstone for a long time. The bouqet of orchards she’d brought stood against the stone plaque.

‘I wish you were here, Mack. I miss you so much.’

The world around her was silent, except for the small breath of wind that ruffled her mid – length black hair.

Jezzabelle squatted at the end of the grave, imagining – and hoping – that somehow Mackeyla could hear her.

‘I forgive you for leaving me, Mack.’ Jezzabelle licked her lips. ‘But I can’t – don’t want to – go through this life alone. I need you with me.’ She smiled. ‘I need you to keep me in line. You know me, I’m bound to screw up.’

Jezzabelle imagined hearing Mackeyla’s soft, musical laugh.

‘I don’t want to say goodbye – I can’t.’ Jezzabelle’s voice began to crack and she bit her lip. ‘It’s too hard.’

‘So maybe you don’t end with goodbye.’ Paul said from behind Jezzabelle. Leaves crunched under his feet as he squatted next to Jezzabelle.

‘I’m not,’ Jezzabelle said, touching the fresh rose petals that someone – most probably Mackeyla’s mother – had recently scattered over the grave.

‘I want you to know that I love you,’ Jezzabelle told her long – time friend. ‘I always will,’

Jezzabelle stood up slowly and opened her closed fist, rescattering some rose petals. Than she turned to Paul, who stood up and took her hand in his, stepping closer to her.

Jezzabelle rested her head on Paul’s shoulder. Together they watched the sun breaking out from behind a cloud, shining down on them.