Ashley & Benjamin - Part 1 of a 3 Part Saga! (Romance Mystery)
PROLOUGE
When I open my eyes I’ll wake up and this will all have been just a bad dream, right?” Slowly I opened my eyes, seeing nothing but spots. I had shut them so tightly they ached. I sat there unraveling the tissue balled up in my hand as I looked around the room. These were all people I knew. Friends, family, co-workers, people who were all supposed to gather at a far different event. It felt like I was living a nightmare with what should have been a dream come true. None of this made any sense. I looked at the clock with the white sailboat background it was 11:23am on April 23, 2012. My flight was scheduled to leave at that exact time and in a few hours I was supposed to be lying on a beach in Jamaica with the love of my life beside me. Instead here I sit in funeral home saying goodbye.
Only days ago I was getting ready to marry Jonathan, the man of my dreams. My entire family and most of my friends were in town to celebrate the glorious event with us. It was a day that I had been waiting for since the moment I first laid eyes on Jonathan Bresley my freshman year of college. We had a Creative Writing class together. It's cheesy to say but it was definitely love at first sight. He was the most handsome man I'd ever met. Gorgeous hazel eyes, blonde straight hair that he had slicked back of course, his features were model-like and I was instantly hooked. By some sheer form of luck he felt the same way about me. It became an epic love story that I swear could have been turned into a romance film. He was my entire world and the day he proposed I felt like all the pieces of my life were finally coming together.
So you can imagine the agony I felt when I learned my Jonathan would not be making it to the Church., As I stood there in my wedding gown listening to my mother say that Jonathan had been killed by a drunk-driver, I prayed that I would wake up. But I never did.
"Do you need more tissues honey?" My mother asked as the Priest read his final reading of the morning.
"No I'm fine." I replied holding up the stack I still had left in my lap.
The last few days I heard that same kind of question over and over again. "What do you need Ashley?" or "Is there anything we can bring you?" and of course the most common line that's used when a loved one dies, "What can I do to help?" Of course, I replied with the typical polite responses and thanked them for their generosity when all I really wanted to say was, "You want to help? Undo the last few days of my life. Remove that drunk driver from the road and give Jonathan back to me." But of course, I'd never say that because not only is it impossible it isn't polite. After all everyone is just trying to be supportive and do their best to be there for me.
"There will be a burial at Beachwood Memorial Cemetery immediately following the conclusion of this service. I ask that those of you wishing to attend the burial to please make your way to your cars and line up for the procession." The Priest said concluding the service.
Everyone stood up almost in unison. They gathered their belongings and took one final look at Jonathan before exiting the room and undoubtedly heading to their cars to wait for the procession to begin. After the room was cleared my family and Jonathan’s family were the only people left in the room. That’s when the Priest approached me one final time.
"Would you like to take one last look before we close the casket?" He asked.
I nodded and he helped me to my feet. I walked slowly towards casket preparing myself for my final goodbye. I stood there for a few moments looking at this man that I loved so deeply. I brushed the lint off his blue jacked that I had picked out for him to wear for the funeral. My hands were shaking so much I could barely move them about his body without disrupting something that a loved one had placed inside the casket.
"I brought something for you, something I thought you should have." I whispered reaching inside my pocket and pulling out his wedding band. "I know we never got to exchange these but I thought you should have it. You will always have my heart."
I leaned in and kissed his lips. They were so cold and were no longer the soft lips I had become so used to kissing. "I will always love you." I said before stepping away from the casket. That was to be the last time I would see Jonathan's face.
The gravesite where Jonathan would be laid to rest was really quite lovely. His mother and I picked out a beautiful rosewood stone head that read "Jonathan Presley - Beloved son and husband." We both decided that even though he and I had not yet been married it was only right that he be laid to rest with the title of "husband." "It's what he would have wanted." His mother, Abigail, said when we made the final decision.
When the last of the mourners arrived at Jonathan’s spot the Priest handed everyone a single white rose to throw on top of the casket. They were the roses that were used for my bouquet that Jon never got to see. Each rose had a white ribbon around it, the ribbon was made from the wedding dress Jon never got to see. Because he died on our wedding day I wanted to incorporate important pieces of the wedding into his funeral. When it came time for me to place my rose on the casket my heart was beating so hard I was afraid it would leap right out of my chest. Rather than toss the rose in I knelt down and placed it gently on top of the others. With that the funeral came to an end. With a few last hugs and tissues exchanges the crowd began to disperse. The ground-workers quickly came back to their posts and began to prepare the site for Jonathan’s final journey.
"Come on Ash, let's get you home. You don’t need to see this" My mother said putting her arm around me as I stood up. She wanted to get me out of there before they started to lower Jonathan into the ground.
I turned around to take one final look and for a split second I expected to see my Jonathan standing behind me smiling. I expected to hear him say this whole ordeal was just one big sick joke. Of course, this wasn't a science fiction movie and such things weren't possible. There was no one there, just the ground workers and the casket. Just like that, in the blink of an eye Jonathan was gone forever. I was now left with the impossible task of carrying on without him.
ONE-YEAR GONE
It's been a year to the day since Jonathan left this world and I haven't done much with my life since. With the exception of my hair color, which was one red but is now jet black, my new job as the proud owner of a small publishing company called, Bresely & Associates and of course my new studio apartment in downtown Los Angeles, I suppose moving from a house in the Hollywood hills to a studio apartment in dirty downtown L.A. qualifies as a significant change. I just couldn't stay in the house that Jonathan and I designed together. If I was ever going to start a life without Jonathan I had to truly start over. That meant a new look, new job and a new home. If I could have changed my name without all the hassle of waiting in line at City Hall I would have. What can I say? After Jonathan’s death I kind of went a bit crazy.
I’ve since returned to reality and am finally starting to move on. In fact, this evening I have been invited to join my friends for drinks at a lounge on Sunset Blvd, and I think I’m going to go. It’s time to step back into the social network so-to-speak. Besides I was really looking forward to checking out this lounge it was extremely posh and was always swarming with celebrities. When Jonathan and I first moved out here three-years-ago we used to “celebrity-see,” on a nightly basis. Basically we would scope out the areas we knew celebrities frequented and keep track of which celebrities we say and how many paparazzo were following them. The nostalgia for celebrity hunting quickly wore thin and we stopped the tradition after a year of constantly bumping into celebrities every day. Now I just refer to them as former neighbors with higher paying jobs than mine. Since his death however, I have re-started the tradition on a much smaller scale and tonig
ht was the perfect “celebrity-seeing” opportunity.
“Caroline? It’s Ashley.” I said after taking the initiative to call Caroline Reisen, my best friend, and inform her that I was in for drinks.
“Hey Ash.” She replied. “How you doing?
“I’m doing okay. I was calling to say, count me in for tonight.” I said with as much enthusiasm I could muster.
“Oh that’s wonderful!” She said excitedly. “You’re going to love this place. Nicole and I went a few nights ago and we had the most incredible time. We ran into Matt Damon and his wife, whose name I am completely blanking on, but does it really matter? I kept thinking about calling you but I wasn’t sure if you were awake. You would have loved it!”
“Sounds like a lot of fun. Maybe tonight we’ll run into Johnny Depp. He’s single now as far as I know.” I joked.
Johnny Depp was my “free pass.” Jonathan and I decided we could each have a celebrity “free pass.” So if I had the opportunity to sleep with Johnny Depp I could and Jonathan couldn’t be angry with me. Same for Jonathan if he ever had the opportunity to sleep with Eva Longoria he could and I couldn’t get mad. It was a silly bargain but bare in mind it was also decided after drinking all night.
“Should I just meet you there?” I inquired.
“Sure. I’m going to pick Nicole and Drea up on my way. Figure around 9:00. Does that work for you?”
“Absolutely! Just text me the address.”
“Perfect. See you soon.”
Caroline and I have been best friends since we were in diapers. Our parents were really good friends so she and I grew up together. As the years went on we only became closer and practically inseparable. We did everything together and even ended up at the same college. She still takes credit for Jonathan and I getting together even though all she did was recommend I take the very creative writing class that I met Jonathan in. Caroline was incredible and without her I never would have survived the last year. I guess I felt like I owed her this night. She deserved to have her best friend back and I wanted to be back. I missed the old me. I was tired of being sad all the time and watching life pass me by. It was time to take a stand and regain control over my emotions and the way I lived my life because, as Jonathan’s death showed me, life was short and you just never knew what day would be your last.
The minute we hung up panic began to set in. What was I going to wear? I had not been out in a real social setting in over a year. If I saw my friends it was when they came over for dinner or when I stopped by their homes for a night in. I avoided public outings because I feared I’d run into Jonathan’s friends and I was not ready for that. Tonight I ran the risk of doing just that but I knew that I was finally ready to accept the terms of my new life and run with it. It would be a challenge but my friends were the best and if anyone could get me through this it would be Caroline.
I rummaged through my closet hoping I would find something of substance to weak. Dress after dress I searched finding nothing I liked enough to even consider. I must have been looking through my closets for nearly half an hour before coming across a blue dress I bought at the mall a few weeks ago. It was a bit on the fancy side but it was my first night out in a long time and I was going to do it right.
By the time I was ready to walk out the door it was already quarter to eight. Great job your first night out and you’re late. I said to myself. In the last year I had been doing a lot of that, talking to myself. I used to have Jonathan to talk to but now I only had me. During the first few months after his death I talked to Jonathan a lot. Any time I had a major decision to make I would talk to him about it as if he were still here. I think part of me did it because I hoped he would answer me. I could swear there were nights I heard him whispering to me. Maybe I was just hearing things but I believed he was with me.
For months I felt Jonathan’s presence all around me. He was with me when I slept, when I woke and he was with me helping me make all my important decisions. Even though I truly believed he was there I needed proof so I did what any irrational person would do, I found a psychic who claimed she could communicate with the dead. Helena Walsh was her name and I found her in the Yellow pages under psychic, which should have been my first clue that something was not right. None-the-less I called her up and made an appointment for the following evening. She instructed me to bring something personal of Jonathan’s, something that only he would be able to connect to.
The following evening I went to a shady part of Los Angeles a few blocks passed Hollywood Boulevard. Helena’s office, or apartment really, was located in a broken down apartment building. The place looked like something out of a science fiction movie. The building was four-story walkup that looked like it was inhabited by monsters. Shatter windows lined the outside walls that were charred from an apparent fire that had consumed parts of the building. Every inch of me was screaming, “Turn around! Don’t waste your time here,” but I was not thinking straight, all I could think about was connecting to Jonathan again. I finally reached Helena’s office. My stomach was in knots as I rang the doorbell. The sound echoed throughout the empty hallway. I couldn’t imagine there were more than twelve occupants in the entire building, if that many. I heard a lot of movement on the other side of the door. It sounded like someone was rearranging furniture. I assumed Helena was just preparing herself for our session.
“Welcome.” Helena said opening the door to her ‘office.’
She was a small woman, couldn’t have been more than five feet tall. She didn’t like any psychic I had ever pictured. She looked more like someone’s crazy old Grandmother. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun complete with what looked like a dishcloth covering the front of her head. She looked and smelled like she had not showered in days and she was missing half her teeth. I felt like I was walking into a bad horror movie where the victim gets chopped up and boiled into the stew.
“You’re Ashley and you are trying to reach someone you loved dearly. Am I correct?” Helena asked.
I suppose she was trying to hone in “psychically” to me, or she thought she was showing off her skills, but I mean if someone is going to see a psychic medium isn’t it kind of obvious as to why they are there? I was far from impressed.
“Yes I am.” I replied entering the ‘office.’
It was the most repulsive thing I had ever seen. There was an overwhelming smell of garbage that entered my nose as I entered the main room. In the corner of the room that looked like it was a converted living room, was a small round table with a funky tablecloth and a crystal ball of all things. This woman really had the stereotypical psychic thing down and it wasn’t appealing.
“Come sit down my dear. Let’s see if we can reach who you are trying to contact.” She said motioning with her arm for me to go to small table she had set up.
“A crystal ball?” I said commenting on the set up.
“I know it seems corny but it helps some people feel more at ease.” She explained, an explanation that made no sense to me.
“Shall we get started?” She asked. I nodded and sat across the table from here as she began her “ritual,” before she could be in tune with the spirit world.
I was growing increasingly concerned about my own sanity as I sat there and watched her “work.” I never thought I would be sitting across the table from a self-proclaimed psychic trying to reach my dead fiancé. Then again I never thought I would have the need to turn to a psychic to talk to my Jonathan.
“Spirit world hear me now.” Helena said waving her hands towards her as if she were pushing an invisible wall toward her body. “Jonathan Presley, hear my words. I have your fiancé, Amber…”
“Ashley.” I said interrupting and correcting her. She stumbled after realizing her shtick was just about up. The simple fact that she had already forgotten my name signaled that she truly was not a professional psychic.
“I have your fiancé Ashley here with me. She wants to speak with you. If you’re here and willing to talk to us please sh
ow us a sign.”
Initially nothing happened but then all of a sudden the table started shaking, quite rapidly. I jumped when it started and at first, believe that it was Jonathan coming through. Of course, as with most psychic mediums, it was all just a ruse. When I took a closer look I saw that Helena was shaking her leg rapidly under the table and that she had placed a block that was attached to the underbelly of the table. As she shook her leg she would hit the block thus giving the illusion that the table was shaking by some unseen force. This is when my patience began to wear thin.
“Has he said anything yet?” I asked playing into her game. I was planning on calling her on her scheme but I wanted to see just how far she would take it.
“Yes. He is speaking to me now. He says he knows you miss him and think about him every day. He wants you to know that he is okay and that he forgives you indiscretions.” She said.
“What indiscretions?” I inquired.
She clearly had no idea what she was talking about, as I had never been unfaithful to Jonathan. Not even in dreams or fantasies. I never fantasized about any other man actor or otherwise. Jonathan was my entire world, he was all I wanted and needed.
“He hasn’t been specific but he knows there have been a few.” Helena replied. “He says he understands and wants you to move on however, he asks that you return to me once a week so he can check up on you. Of course, I will give you a frequent visitor rate.”
I stood up violently. She had definitely crossed a line and I did not appreciate being lied to that in order for her to get more money out of me.
“I want my money back now!” I shouted at a bewildered Helena.
“I don’t understand. We made such great progress today.” She said trying to reason with me.
“Progress? Lady you just flat out proved what I already thought, you’re a freaking fraud!” I shouted.
I headed for the door. I wanted to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible before I turned around and punched her face in. She was messing with people’s emotions. She was playing with their weaknesses and making them believe things that they were so desperate to believe. She was praying on the weak for her own gain.