Part Two:

“She lives her life like a flame; a dance of purposeful chaos.… Her enchanting light can guide you and quell your fears… She’s hot; warming those who respect her and burning those who don’t… She is a flame with an unforgettable glow… A weak man will try to dim her luminance… but her soul mate will take pleasure in fanning the blaze.” – Steve Mariboli

Chapter 1

Ember

“I’m done. Seriously, I may die in the next five minutes if I don’t soak my feet.” My best friend Blayr says. We’re rehearsing for a huge show at the community center for the Harvest Festival and I’m pretty sure we could both dance it in our sleep. “Practice makes perfect, B. Quit bitching.”

“Well, then we’re perfect No worries, Em. C’mon I want a margarita and reruns of my baby Jax. I swear I’m going to kill Gemma if she doesn’t stop fucking with Tara. I swear Sons of Anarchy makes me want to pack all my shit up and join a badass motorcycle club.”

I start gathering all my things that are scattered around the studio, shoving them all in my pink Nike bag. “I’m pretty sure Samcro is looking for everyone BUT a prima ballerina, but maybe in your dreams.” I turn to the ancient tape player in the nook by the door, shutting off our music and tossing the tape in my bag. “Let’s go Ms. Badass, I’m dead on my feet,” I yell back at her as I walk towards the parking lot.

I climb in and crank the air to high. Living in Louisianathe heat is no joke. At any given time you are drowning in a bucket of sweat from one hundred percent humidity. Yep, one hundred.

“I have to go by Nan’s tonight. Wanna meet up later for dinner?” I say as I look over at Blayr.

“I have to finish a paper for psychology, so I’ll text you later and let you know. Do you have class in the morning? We should so go out! We haven’t been out in forever. Let’s go Ember!” she pleas.

“Maybe?”

“No, every time you say maybe it’s really no. You’re such a maw maw, Ember, I swear. No one would even know you’re old enough to drink. When is the last time you did something not dance or school related? Nan probably has a better social life than you,” she says exasperated, throwing her hands up.

I love Blayr. We’ve been friends since birth, and our mothers were best friends. We’re exactly 22 days apart. I think of her more as a sister, an annoying one, but my sister. We’re complete and total opposites. She’s vivacious, outgoing, and full of life. I am quiet, reserved and a total introvert. We mix like water and oil, but I don’t know what I would do without her. I don’t know who I would be without her.

“How about I let you know later? You know Nan, I’m sure I’ll be playing bingo with her and Mr. Barker until midnight. Okay, maybe she does have a better social life, but I’m happy with my life, B. Just let me be,” I whisper.

“Em, I just want you to get out more. You’re a college student! Go out and have a little fun. You don’t have to feel guilty for moving on with your life...”

“Stop, I don’t even want to open that door right now. I’m fine, stop pushing me when I’m not ready.”

“He’s not coming back, Em. You can’t put your life on hold for a ghost.”

I sigh, pulling in the driveway of our small two bedroom. I turn the car off, grab my bag from the backseat, and start to open the door.

She grabs my arm, pulling me to her.“I love you. I just want you to be happy. You know that right?” she whispers as she hugs me close.

“I know. I just feel like there’s so much empty space inside me. How can I be happy when I know he’s never coming home? He was my world B, my whole world.” I sob into her neck, her arms tight around me. Lord knows what I would do without her.

Pulling away, I open the door and step out. Turning back I tell B over my shoulder, “Text me later and we can figure out some plans. Love you.”

It’s not often that I like to lose my shit in front of others. I can’t stand the look of pity on their faces. Pity isn’t what I want. I don’t want you to look at me and think of me as the sad girl that can’t move on. Don’t pretend to understand my pain, because you don’t.

Walking to the closet, I pull down the box from the very top shelf and sit on the floor. Removing the lid, I begin pulling out the memories of us. I know if Hale saw me now he would be disappointed in the person I’ve become. Death takes its toll on everyone around them, sucking the life out of what’s left. I would do anything for another minute with him. I would give up every last breath to hear his laugh, to see the dimple in his cheek when he smiles, to feel the stubble on his jaw, and to his smell clinging to his t-shirt as he holds me tight. For months after he died, I spent hours reading over the letters and emails, and running my finger over pictures. My body became a shell, barely taking me through each day; the grief consumed me. I laid in bed, wishing for an escape from the pain that I felt every day. Every second of everyday felt like hell.

Looking back now, I wonder how I even made it through those days. How I even put one foot in front of the other. I know I have to move on, I know that. It’s actually doing it that is the hard part; the part that I struggle with every day. I go to school, I dance, I visit Nan, but I don’t live anymore. I go through the motions. I have to make a change. I want to be someone Hale would be proud of. I know he would want me to be happy and to chase my dreams. I have to start with putting this box away. I’m going to go out and make friends. I can do this for me and for Hale. I’ve got to accept that he’s gone and start living my life, no matter how much my heart hurts. It’s time to start healing and move forward. I want to live, not just survive.

I put the lid back on and stand, reaching to the very back of the closet, and set it on the shelf. I turn off the light and close the door, grabbing my phone from my desk as I make my way towards the living room. I plop down on the couch and text B.

Me: Okay, let’s go out. I need to do this.

B: Is this a joke Em? If so, not funny bitch! I got super excited for a second.

Me: I’m serious, let’s go to that new place that opened on Laffite.

B: On my way home NOW.

Me: See you soon xx

“Remind me why we have to do this again...” I say as Blayr wraps another long strand of my hair around the curling wand.

“Because you NEED time out with other people your age, not the senior citizens of Crescent. Quit bitching, you can do this!”

Rolling my eyes, I sigh. “Fine but can we hurry?”

“These locks must be tamed, Em,” she replies. She finishes curling my unruly brown hair and starts applying makeup.

“Keep it on the down low. I don’t want to look like a hooker,” I playfully tell her. “Me? Never!” she laughs and continues with the brush against my cheeks. “I’m so jealous of your cheekbones, they’re perfect. Seriously. I have the fattest chipmunk cheeks,” B complains.

I move towards my closet, searching through jeans, t-shirts, and sweaters. Looking back over my shoulder I say, “B... is this place casual enough for jeans?” She looks at me like I’ve grown a beard and says “Are you nuts? Ember, it’s a nightclub, not Chili’s. Seriously, come on.” Taking my hand, she drags me toward her room. “We will find you something perfect! I’m bound to have something.”

I sit on her bed while she sifts through her closet. “Jeez, B, it’s time to donate some of this to the Goodwill. Like, yesterday,” I say, looking around at the clothes, purses, and shoes strewn everywhere, “there’s enough stuff here to clothe an army.” “All necessary grasshopper, trust me,” she says with her head buried in her closet.