Never Stop

13. Via

Chapter thirteen

Via

2023

N ight shifts are long, and they take a toll on me. By 6:30 a.m., I am usually pretty run down. Just as I start to tell Dessa goodbye for the day, the call bell goes off, and as she realizes who's requesting assistance, she looks up at me with knowing eyes and a soft smile.

"It's your man!" Dessa says as she laughs.

Dessa and I met through work two years ago, and our friendship developed quickly. What started as a work friendship promptly evolved into a sisterhood between her, Izzy, and me.

For the longest time, it was just Izzy and me. Now, I can't imagine our tiny circle without Dessa.

Izzy is the hotheaded wild child who freely speaks her mind without hesitation. She's the one who you'll find dancing on the bar top after three beers or completely sober. Izzy is never afraid to be seen or be authentically herself. People find that intimidating, but I love it about her.

Dessa is the levelheaded, outgoing, easily approachable, bubbly one who is so friendly that she could probably make friends with a rock if she wanted to.

Then, there's me. I'm the blend-in-with-the-crowd type who's a little awkward, introverted, and entirely too softhearted. I try to solve everyone's problems and thrive on sarcasm and quick wit. It's all about balance, and we indeed balance each other well.

Dessa is beautiful and spunky, all wrapped into one. She stands about five feet tall, curvy like me and has short brown hair clipped into the cutest long bob. She has a very girly sense of fashion and a way of making even scrubs look good.

"Here I was thinking he stood me up this morning," I reply with a laugh as I throw my purse back under the desk and hurry towards his room, wasting no time.

"Well, hello, Mr. Earl, it's good to see you up and at 'em this morning. Ready for your walk to get some coffee?" I chirp as I help the fragile elderly man up from his bed. The smile he throws my way as he welcomes my presence into his room always warms my heart. We aren't supposed to pick favorites, but it's too bad. He's mine. He knows it .

His conversations always bring me peace. He's our grumpiest resident at the assisted living facility and hasn't gotten visitors in over four years. I've made it a point to give him someone to talk to once my shift is over every morning that I work. I have no one and no reason to rush home, so it works out for us both.

For a while, he was a tough nut to crack. He didn't open up to me easily or at all for a long time. He would sit there in silence with his arms crossed tight over his chest. The only sound I'd get from him was a stubborn huff of approval or disapproval as a response to short questions I'd ask to attempt conversations to fill the silence that always seemed to linger between us. That didn't matter or last long.

We're a lot alike in that manner. I never pushed him to talk about anything specific, significantly more than he was willing to. He's never pushed me, either, unlike many others. Our conversations all come organically; although he's seventy-six years old, we have a special bond.

He isn't the friendliest by a long shot. He's rough and rugged around the edges yet is still incredibly swift with his wit and sarcasm. Those attributes are some of the things I love about him.

Once our friendship evolved and he finally opened up to me, he told me about his family. He told me about his beautiful wife, who he loved dearly. She died during labor with their only child. He told me how, after his wife's passing, he tried not to blame his only son. His heart was so broken that he turned to alcohol, and he did not make his son's life pleasant. He was the furthest thing from a 'good father,' and he hated himself for it. He's told me about how, before coming to the assisted living facility, he cleaned up his life and tried to make amends with his son, but the damage was too far gone.

Earl Jacobs is convinced he is far from a good person. After getting to know him and getting a first-hand view of his personality, hearing him describe himself in his self-deprecating way has me questioning whether 'good people' even exist.

Are we really all just 'good or bad'? Is life indeed that black and white? Or are we all capable of both good and bad, where neither outweighs the other?

"There's my favorite nurse. I thought I missed you today," He says with his grumpy, rough voice and the softest smile he's capable of forming on that stone face of his.

"Now, you know I can't leave here without my coffee, and some company before heading home isn't so bad either," I say jokingly as I assist him into his wheelchair, and we head toward the social quarters.

We sit silently for a bit, sipping our coffees and enjoying the fresh air while relishing the company and comfortable silence. That is until I nudge him softly as someone across the patio catches my eyes, as she usually does.

"Oh, Mr. Earl, you must still have it going on. Clara Jean is giving you the googley eyes again," I whisper as I laugh innocently.

As always, he rolls his eyes at me and laughs as he shoves me softly.

"Thank God you're a better nurse than you are at trying to play matchmaker. " His warm laugh reaches my heart this time.

"Touche', but at least I'm trying. You know you should give her a chance. She's lovely," I say. Clara Jean has had her eyes on Mr. Earl since she became a resident here. She couldn't make it any more obvious. He proves that age doesn't make men any wiser when it comes to women because he's completely blind to her subtle hints and thinks I'm making it up. I see the way he looks at her. Like she could be his second chance, the pain and fear in him won't even allow him to talk to her.

"Trying? Trying would be going on a date for yourself. You're young, and I'm old. You're more worried about my dating life than your own. You need to reevaluate that, honey," He deadpans, raising an eyebrow at me and leaving me almost speechless.

Almost .

"I'm happy to report that I have a double date tonight with Izzy, Maverick, and one of his work friends. So now, it's your turn." He smiles at this, and I can tell he's more pleased than I expected.

"Well, hot damn. It's about damn time," He says as he pats me on the back.

"Hey now, don't push it." I can't contain my laugh, which I accompany with a playful eye roll.

The broody elderly gentleman who doesn't give smiles or laughs freely is smiling from ear to ear and chuckling. At my expense, of course, but that's okay. I'll take it.

"You gonna tell me who the lucky guy is or leave me guessing?"

"Well," I shrug, "I don't know who he is. All I know is that he goes by the name. . ." I hesitate, knowing that he will give me shit for this, ". . . Bear"

He choked on his coffee and barked out a laugh.

"Bear?" He asks with his eyebrows raised, "Sounds like a douchebag!"

We must look like a bunch of fools because I snort out a laugh so loud that heads turn to look us over, breaking the silence that coated the patio.

"Earl Jacobs!" I cough out his name through my laughter. "Who in the world taught you that term?"

He flashes me a smug, cocky grin. "What can I say? I'm just hip!"

I shake my head, "More like you're a trip."

After we settle down from laughing at the douchebag debacle, we sit in silence for a beat while sipping our coffee. We stay out on the patio, both taking in the sounds and scenery of the bayou out back.

Some people may see murky water, but it's a beautiful sight to me. The way the sun beams off it as it bends and curves on the edges reminds me of simpler days. It's no mountain view, but it holds its beauty all the same.

"You're quiet today, Via. Are you nervous about tonight, or has that asshole brother of yours tried to contact you again?" Mr. Earl's eyes are on me, staring intently as if trying to read me. I attempt not to let the intense question phase me, but it's evident that it does.

Mr. Earl is the only one I discuss Liam with. There's something about how he described his troubled past to me, and I could still view him as a human even after he told me the terrible things he's done that somehow made me comfortable enough to get his opinions on Liam. He's never held back and has always been honest with me.

Granted, Liam is a whole other beast, very different from Mr. Earl. After hearing Mr. Earl's guilt for the things he's done wrong to the ones he was supposed to protect, I couldn't help but hold out a little hope that Liam also felt guilty. I've tried to have a different outlook on him, but it hasn't been easy. He's done everything but make it easy.

I take another sip of my coffee and take a deep breath while carefully choosing my words.

"I've gotten a few more calls from the prison, all of which I've ignored. He left one voicemail saying I needed to answer his calls, calling me names and saying he's all I have left and need him." I can tell the frustration is evident on my face.

Liam's words don't surprise me, including the irony in them. His saying that I "need him" is almost comical, considering he's locked in a cage, and the last person I need or want anything from is Liam. Instead of saying he needs me, he must try to manipulate the situation. Go figure . He's desperate, and I honestly have no feelings for his emotions. I've been numb to Liam and anything concerning him longer than I'd like to remember. His threats don't even seem to phase me at this point.

One year ago, Liam was convicted of domestic abuse against his then-girlfriend. This isn't Liam's first arrest nor his first go at serving time. This has become common for him. Somehow, he keeps getting out. He seems to serve time repeatedly for little charges but has never been investigated for the ones he and I both know he's guilty of.

There will never be space in my heart for forgiveness when it comes to him. I may hope he changes, but even if he does, it will never be enough to change our relationship. He's caused the damage that I'm pushing through.

Liam should be in jail for at least another four years this time. His imprisonment gives me more peace than I can describe.

I know who he is and what he's capable of more than anyone, and I mean it when I say that the world is a better place when Liam is locked away. I know how cruel that makes me sound, but honesty and truth aren't always soft.

Mr. Earl shakes his head in disgust with Liam as he can see the frustration taking over my entire mood, "I'm sorry for bringing him up," he says.

"It's okay, but it is time for me to take you inside. I need to get going home and catch up on my beauty sleep," I say with a soft laugh, pointing out the bags under my eyes and attempting to lighten the mood. He nods as we head back inside.

I remind him that I'm off for the next few days and make him promise not to forget me while I'm gone. He laughs, and we say our goodbyes, which always include a soft hug and no words.

This shift was long, and that conversation could have been heavy. My brain is drained, and I need to get some sleep. I make my way out to my car and tell Dessa goodbye with a wave.

As I turn the blow dryer off and the silence suddenly fills the air, my attention gets pulled to the laughter and giggles in the next room.

Growing up, Izzy was always the one who was anti-relationship. I was surprised if she slept with a guy more than once. We both were, honestly. I'm glad she found Maverick, and he's changed her mind and heart. For a while, I was worried she'd never want to settle down and date anyone. Now look at us. Oh, how the tables have turned. I don't mind it; her happiness is enough to make me happy- most days .

Being alone does get lonely. Although Doctor Carr made valid points about reopening myself, I don't see the point. Believe it or not, I was a hopeless romantic at one point. I loved love and the idea of it. When I had it, I embraced it and reveled in it.

Now, I only know reality. Reality has shown me that no single thing is promised, and the pain of loss is far greater than the pain of being alone.

There was a point where I even tried to push Izzy away. I was sure being a part of my life came with consequences of pain. I also began to believe that I was the problem.

I can thank Liam's manipulation for that one. Someone tells you something so many times that there comes a point where you can't help but believe it for yourself.

Thankfully, Izzy is far too strong-willed and hard-headed to fall for my shit. She pushed right back and gave me no choice. Even when I ignored her and went through a slight hateful resentment phase, she was unbothered and loved me through it. In an Izzy way. This included a lot of her saying, "Enough with the bullshit, bitch" and "You can try as hard as you want; you're as stuck with me as I am with you."

Soul mates come in different forms than what people think is typical. For me, I have two. One soulmate is my platonic best friend, who has seen me through every storm, even when I didn't want her to.

The other is the boy I undoubtedly fell in love with as a child. The boy I would have done anything for, even hurt myself, which is precisely what I did. I think about him more than I should. I fantasize about who he probably is today, but I'll never have the courage to find out. I last heard that he had moved on and had a long-term girlfriend. After that, I asked Izzy not to tell me anymore. All I can do is hope he's found the happiness he deserves. The same joy I know I could never give him myself.

That doesn't make the pain of letting him go hurt any less .

After all of these years, I've gotten used to the pain.

Trying to shake myself out of my thoughts, I stop staring in the mirror, dazing off, and force myself to get dressed for what is sure to be an awkward double date. I'm not even sure why I agreed to do this. I hear Izzy calling my name and yelling for me to go to her, so I approach her room.

"You rang, your majesty?" I ask sarcastically as I walk in and plop myself on her tiny sofa across from her bed.

Izzy and Maverick are cuddled up close together on the bed. They both let out a chuckle at my stupid little remark. Izzy rolls her eyes at me as she laughs.

"I just wanted to check in on you," she says, and Mavericks kisses her on the forehead as he gets up.

They're so cute that it's almost repulsive. He stops and hugs me goodbye, then grabs me by the shoulders and says, "It will be fine; I promise you will have a good night," almost too enthusiastically, as if he's trying to convince himself, too.

"I'm okay, -ish. I think. I guess. WHATEVER! " I say as I laugh and roll my eyes. "Are you leaving now? I thought you were riding with us." I choke out, and the panic is evident on my face and in my voice.

Maverick gives a soft smile and looks at Izzy, who gets up from the bed and walks towards me.

"He's going meet up with Bear. They're going to get there early and grab a table and a drink so we can have more time to get dressed and give you more time to overanalyze everything!" she says with a soft yet joking tone and a huge smile.

She comes to sit on the sofa with me, wrapping her arms tight around me reassuringly. They know me well, and I'm terrible at these situations, so they seem to be handling me carefully. I look at her and scrunch my nose, rolling my eyes as I let out a light sigh, shaking my head.

Izzy is curling my hair for me. She just finished doing my makeup. Although both are much more done up than I would typically do myself, I like what she's done. She went with neutral colors for my eyes, which I appreciate. I'm usually a mascara-only kind of girl. I know how to do my makeup; I never feel up to it. The last time she did my makeup, I felt like I was the star of a drag show; it was so glamorously over the top. I'm glad she kept it simple and accurate to me this time because I feel very pretty right now.

"Did Mav give you more info on this 'Bear' guy? Also…. "BEAR? What's his real name?" I ask, trying to sound as confident as possible and not show the anxiety that's starting to grasp its hold on me.

"He doesn't know his real name. They all call him Bear at work," she shrugs.

"I can't believe I'm going on a date with a guy called Bear!" I say, laughing as I softly hit my face with my palm.

"I'm going on a date with a guy whose real name none of us knows. Why does this seem fitting?"

She returns my laugh. "I don't know, Via. 'Bear' sounds sexy, don't you think?"

"Izabel." I smack her arm jokingly as we laugh before she can grab the curling wand again.

"All Maverick said about him was that he's his closest friend on their work crew. He said he reminds him of the male version of you. He's also internet famous—"

"FAMOUS!? FOR WHAT! ?" I blurt out as I accidentally cut her off.

"Well, he's a…. musician, and apparently he's really good but also humble. He doesn't want fame. He blew up after some of the guys at work took videos of him singing his songs while playing guitar and posted them to their TikToks. He doesn't pay attention to fame or care about it."

"Oh god. A Musician!? Izzy, you know how—" I start to whine like an infant as she cuts me off, literally.

"Damn it, Via! You have this long list of unacceptable things; therefore, no one ever makes your cut. It's one date. Give the guy a chance!" She demands.

I want to fight back and make my point, but it's pointless. She's right, and musicians are a big no-no for me. There's only one musician I could be interested in, and I don't need any reminders of him.

Instead of protesting, I nod. When she sees that she's made her point and has gotten through, she smirks and basks in her victory.

"That's all the info I have on him. We will both have to be surprised and do more digging tonight," she says triumphantly.

"Okay. So a guy named Bear, who doesn't want to be famous, plays music and is just one big ole mystery. Sums it up?" I ask with a sarcastic grin.

"Yeah, that about sums up the information I have on him, I guess." She shrugs and laughs.

"So, did Mav say how Mr. Tiktok feels about going on a blind date?"

She spits, and she laughs so hard at my 'Mr. TikTok' remarks, "Maverick said he hasn't dated in a while, and he's being almost just as stubborn as you are,"

Well, I can't argue there. I sigh and shake my head in defeat. I won't put up the fight that I want to. I'm more at ease now than I was before. At least I won't be the only reluctant one there. Don't get me wrong, I'm still incredibly nervous, and I think this is a horrible idea, but I'm giving it a shot.

Mr. Earl and Dr. Carr had better be proud of me when I tell them I actually went through with this .

I may feel pretty tonight, but I'm still not sure why I let Izzy convince me to do my hair and makeup. Stepping out of the car and into the Louisiana humidity almost completely ruined my hair, and it was nearly perfect before we left the house. Now, the frizz has already taken control.

With this hair, there's no way I was meant to live down here. It was meant for much more fantastic, less humid weather. My dark brown, curly, puffy hair drives me crazy more than it doesn't, but part of me has learned to love it about myself, which is surprising. It's almost like my own little trademark piece.

I do like the outfit that Izzy and I finally agreed on. My hair and makeup may be more than I usually do, but my outfit is somewhat true to myself, which I love. I'm dressed casually. I wear a black long-sleeved crop top that falls below my naval. It's a v-cut neckline and shows a little cleavage. For me, that is the only thing that's a little different. I typically wear loose-fitted band T-shirts that cover me entirely.

I like my clothes to feel like a shield that protects and keeps me hidden. It doesn't feel that way tonight, and I'm not against it, which is truly surprising. Letting my cleavage show is odd, but I feel somewhat confident.

The shirt hugs me tight around my bust line and loosens as it goes down to my waistline. I'm wearing distressed blue jeans that are tight around my hips and butt and loosen as they go down and slightly fray at my ankles, paired with my black low-top Converse.

I almost let Izzy convince me to wear a dress, but she backed down quickly once I started fighting her on it. I think she was treading lightly, which is funny. Izzy does not tread lightly for anyone, especially not at my expense. I can see how badly she wanted me to come along and have a good night, so I'm not trying to be too difficult.

There was once a time when I loved wearing dresses—so much that they were almost a part of my identity. I'd even wear certain ones to sit around my house, and I'd wear them to play outside. They were an extension of me—until the flowy fabric was proven to betray me with its minimal coverage.

I learned quickly that I couldn't hide my body or myself in a dress. It's wild how the things you go through affect everything down to your core being. Trauma is like a tidal wave that crashes in without regard for its surroundings, overspraying and soaking whatever is in its wake, uncaring if it's waterproof or not. Trauma tarnishes even the little things that once seemed minute. It can turn you into a version of yourself you sometimes don't even tend to recognize.

"Earth to Via!" Izzy whispers in my ear as she snaps in front of my face. I love her, but she knows how to get someone's attention when she wants it obnoxiously.

"Yes, ma'am?" I ask her sarcastically as we continue walking through the parking lot toward the restaurant.

She rolls her eyes and nudges me with her shoulder.

"Don't be an asshat, I asked if you're sure you're ready for this?"

"Well, you've picked a hell of a time to ask me that question sincerely. Ready or not…. Here we are!" I sigh, and she ignores me with a smug smirk, and we continue.

I'm glad the restaurant is laid back. Crave's is my favorite restaurant, located in New Orleans. It's an eclectic place filled with bright colors, rock bands, memorabilia, and local artists' most recent works. They also offer amazingly diverse menu options; everything I've ever tried is delicious. My favorite part is the rooftop dining option. I'm a little sad we aren't dining up there tonight. I love taking in the view of the city from up there.

Walking in, we quickly spot Maverick, but he doesn't see us. It's busy and loud here tonight. So loud that I could barely hear my thoughts. I see the back of the head of the guy sitting across from him, which I conclude to be "Bear."

He seems to have longer brown hair on top, although I can't get a good look at it with his baseball cap on. He's wearing a short-sleeve black shirt that is nicely snug around the muscles on his arms. I can see tattoos spread on both his arms, down to his hands.

I haven't seen his face yet, but just from the back of him, he already seems like he'll be attractive.

Tattoos have never been something that excites me in someone's appearance. Some girls go crazy over that shit.

Once you have so many of your own, it's like, "Oh, you have tattoos? Cool!" or "Oh, you don't have any tattoos? Cool!"

I'm indifferent to them either way. What I find most attractive in guys is their body build. That sounds odd. I have nothing against skinny men, but I'm a total sucker for a tall, slightly muscular, stocky, and sturdy type of man. There's just something about them that I find incredibly handsome and appealing.

Their muscles don't need to be very defined; they're just a bigger guy, and I'm attracted. I guess I am weird; Most women are attracted to something simple like a man's eyes, and then there's me.

As we get closer, Izzy waves towards Maverick. His eyes dart up, and he flashes a smile as he waves for us to come over and points us out.

We are mere feet away from their booth as I look down at my feet while walking; the nerves are taking over when I hear Izzy say, " HOLY HELL !" in a soft voice but loud enough for everyone nearby to hear and whip their heads around to look up at us.

My eyes quickly shoot up to search for whatever has stunned her. The panic in her voice has my stomach in knots. That's when it happens. He turns toward us with an expression that looks just as mortified as I can imagine my own.

Anderson Anthony Cole.

Bear is Ander. Ander is Bear.

What the actual hell?