“And now here you are… with a man who embodies the shit you like, but that shit you like cost you a lot.” They rolled in the silence for a bit. “All that glitters isn’t gold. Everything that shines isn’t a diamond and fire may look nice in a fireplace or hearth, but it spreads fast, can be destructive and has no filter.”
They locked eyes.
“You’re not gold, Aries, but you’re invaluable. You’re no diamond, but damn do you shine. You’re definitely fire. No other words needed.”
“And you were Nehemiah’s rain,” he said. She smiled sadly. “Flames always need water, Lauren, not gasoline. Some women stoke the flames, others soothe. You call us out on our damage, but pacify the blaze. Yet, you’ve got a problem.”
“What?”
“You’re a storm that’s attracted to a raging inferno.” He pulled away from the curb and continued on. After a couple of minutes, she reached for his hand and squeezed it.
“Nehemiah and I had been having troubles a few months before he died.” He turned the music off, then clasped her hand again, intertwining their fingers. “I wanted to have a baby, or at least start trying, and he didn’t. He said we were too young. I also had been on him about working so much. It seemed we hardly had any alone time together. I… I carried some guilt about how I rode him about that so often.”
“Why?”
“Because all he was trying to do was provide a good life for us. That’s one thing I loved about him. His work ethic. I should’ve been encouraging him instead of the opposite. I was wrong. He was right.” She sniffed. “It was too soon to talk about babies. We hadn’t even gotten to do much yet. The night he passed away, and I got that call,” she bent her head and shook it, “all I could think of was the fact I’d said to him I was sick and tired of coming second in his life. Work was his wife. I was the mistress. That’s what I’d told him.”
“Lauren, you can’t beat yourself up about that. He was your husband and you missed him because he worked a lot. Couples have disagreements, we fight, it comes with the territory. He knew you loved him.”
“How do you know?” She turned to him sharply.
“Number one, because if he and I are as much alike as you say we are, then he wasn’t stupid. Number two, if he was unhappy with you, he would’ve left.” She nodded and turned away. “He would’ve left your ass. I mean that. He stayed because you loved him. And he loved you. It’s just that simple. You wanted to spend more time with your husband. You got on him about it sometimes. Big fuckin’ deal. That was no reason for him to second guess your love for him. In fact, it more than likely did the opposite. People die on us, they leave us. Doesn’t mean we have to carry guilt because we didn’t like everything they did or said.”
“Sometimes it’s not that simple.”
“It is that simple. I’ve lost too many people my damn self to not know how this works. You don’t think I was angry at my grandmother for not knowin’ more about my father, not being closer with my mother, and said things to her I shouldn’t have? I have friends that have crossed over, too, and Lord knows we got into it our fair share of disagreements many times beforehand. Sometimes I speak before I think. I have a tough skin and forget not everyone is like me, but I meant what I said to them at the time and that’s just how the cookie crumbles. It sure as hell didn’t mean that I didn’t love them and vice versa. I miss them like crazy. But they’re gone, so I hold on to the great memories.
“You’re choosing for it not to be that simple, baby, because you still feel like you owe him and it’s easier to hang on to a ghost than look ahead towards the future.” She looked downright insulted, but made no comment. “And as long as you hang on to those fights you had with that man before his accident, blaming yourself, then you’re always in debt and remembering him the wrong way. It’s a punishment. Torture. You told me one time how you didn’t feel guilty about his death, but that was a lie. You’ll never be in a