Part of Your Heart

It was a cool, crisp fall day. Leaves in a multitude of colors fell from the trees, creating a naturesque carpet for the two of us to tread on as we walked hand in hand down the forest path. Jimmy hummed a random tune as we went, no notes at all in mind; just the sounds of a song from his enormous heart. It was days like these that I realized how lucky I truly was to be married to a man like Jimmy Sullivan. The tall, blue-eyed gentle giant had flown into my life and helped to rekindle my intense love for the simpler things in life.

"How does this spot look, Roison?" Jimmy asked, stopping to survey the landscape. He'd always had such a fascination with my name; it flattered me.

"Absolutely perfect," I replied, my voice airy and soft. I was such a feminine creature, such a stark contrast to Jimmy, who was strong and robust and - for lack of a better word - manly.

Jimmy spread out the blanket he'd had folded over his lanky arm and placed upon it our picnic basket. From within the basket he produced two crystal wine glasses and a bottle of sparkling Napa Valley red wine, aged two hundred years. "Sit down, Roison," Jimmy suggested gently. I sat down on the blanket next to him, crossing my legs as I watched him prepare the glasses of wine. I sighed and closed my eyes. Life at the moment could not get more perfect.

When I opened my eyes next, I was no longer in the forest clearing with my beloved; rather, I was alone in bed in my pitch-black bedroom. I let loose a groan as I swung my feet over the side of my bed. I'd been having that dream - that teasing image of memories lost - at an incredible frequency since my dear Jimmy's death, and the lack of sleep it was causing was beginning to catch up to me.

I let my face fall into my hands as I started to cry. These past seven months without Jimmy had been hell for me. That day had been the worst of my life; I would never forget waking up next to Jimmy's cold, lifeless body, his arms still wrapped tightly around my waist. I often saw the image in my sleep. The coroner said he'd died of an enlarged heart, which I found ironic. He died because his heart was too big. A normal heart simply did not have the capacity to hold the love of Jimmy Sullivan.

I could barely pick up my feet as I shuffled down the hallway to the bathroom. I splashed a bit of cold water on my face; despite the unholy hour that it was, I knew I wouldn't be getting anymore sleep. I never could after that dream, not when I had to return to my bed alone.

Suddenly the tiny life nestled inside my womb sparked to life and I drummed my fingers over the taut drum of my stomach with a slight smile. The discovery of my pregnancy was a bittersweet one; on the one hand I was happy to know that I would be a mother, but on the other hand I knew Jimmy would never be able to be a father to his son. He didn't even know I was expecting. I didn't find out until after he was buried.

I sighed. Jimmy would have been a good father. And now he would never get the chance.

I walked back into the bedroom and glanced at the clock; upon seeing the lateness of the hour, I sighed again. This rouse was getting old. Being up this late with only myself for company allowed my mind to run rampant, and there was nothing worse than being left alone with your thoughts and the ghosts of your memories. 

I fingered my phone, thinking about calling one of the guys, perhaps one of their girlfriends. But I knew they'd all be asleep. Besides the fact that it was so late, they had a long day to look forward to. Tomorrow they would be replacing Jimmy. It was odd to imagine anyone else sitting behind the drums, but it had to be done. It was for the best of Avenged Sevenfold.

"You need to go to sleep, Roison," I mumbled to myself, running a hand back through my long, red hair. "They'll be expecting you there tomorrow. It's been seven months; you need to quit mourning and head back out into the world."

God, now the night had driven me so far as to talk to myself, I thought to myself as I curled up in my duvet. I rolled to my side and closed my eyes, praying that sleep would steal me away to see Jimmy again.

♪•♫•♪•♫•♪•♫•♪•♫•♪

"How much sleep did you get last night, Roison?" Brittany Sanders asked the instant I stepped over the threshold of the studio. I looked into her sympathetic blue eyes and she sighed, already knowing my answer without me even having to say it.

"I had that dream again," I announced, my voice barely above a whisper. But Brittany heard every word. She came over to me wordlessly, wrapping her arms around me and allowing me to cry freely into her shoulder. She knew how much I hated that dream. Most people assumed I enjoyed it because Jimmy was involved, but that was the precise reason that I didn't like it. It reminded me of my life before Jimmy died, the life I wanted back so badly.

"You need to get some more sleep," Brittany said as she pulled away. I wiped my eyes. "It's bad for the baby for you to be up at all hours of the night."

"I know," I sniffled. "But Brit, I just can't sleep."

My friend sighed again. I knew she was conflicted over this whole situation as well. But there was no way she could truly understand my predicament; after all, when she went home, she still had Matt to sleep next to, she still had Matt to hold her close and make her feel loved. She still had the love of her life by her side, while mine was six feet under in the Huntington Beach cemetery.

"Roison sweetie, are you okay?" Brittany's gentle voice asked. 
"You haven't said anything for a few minutes."

"I'm fine, just thinking about the baby," I lied smoothly.

"Oh, is he kicking?" Brittany chirped, falling into my trap. She placed her hands on my swollen stomach, hoping to feel the rythmic tap tap of the baby's feet against my skin. When she felt nothing, she frowned.

"I guess he stopped," I said with a shrug.

"He always does that," Brittany complained. "I never get to feel little baby Sullivan kick."

I offered my friend a forced, sympathetic smile, and as usual, she instantly bought. In a way, this showed how little my friends truly knew about my mental and emotional state of being. I was a walking mirage; broken apart on the inside, carefully sewn together on the outside so that no one could see the scars. A deep, familiar voice called out from inside the lounge room of the studio, and Brittany and I turned our heads. The voice belonged to Matt, who was calling us into the studio.

"Come and meet our new drummer!" he hollered. Their new drummer. Such simple words, but such a difficult thing to grasp.

Brittany headed in the direction of her husband's beckoning voice, and I followed at a slower pace. It wasn't just the fact that I didn't want to meet this man that I moved so slowly; my seven-month baby belly also played a role. When I arrived in the lounge room, everyone was sitting awkwardly on the couches and loveseats, and all alone in the single recliner sat an unfamiliar face. This must be him, I thought. I studied his face. He looked rather young. 

"Oh, Arin this is Roison," Brian introduced, gesturing at me with a tattooed hand. "She was--" Here my friend stopped himself mid-sentence, realizing his mistake. My gray eyes welled up even at this close call, and I hastily pawed the tears away. 

"Go ahead and finish your sentence, Brian," I croaked. "I'm not ashamed of what you were going to say."

"She was Jimmy's wife," Brian finished, meeting my gaze sympathetically.

This new drummer named Arin looked to me with widened eyes, and I knew immediately that he would never be able to think of me without feeling sorry for me. I hated the sympathy; I hated it with a fiery, burning passion. That was everyone's immediate reaction when they found out about my situation, even more so when they learned that I was carrying his child that he would never meet.

"I'm sorry," he forced out, and I bit back a sigh.

"For what? You didn't kill him," I replied hotly. I hadn't meant for it to come out so rudely, but my insomnia made me snarky.

"Roison, did you not sleep well last night?" Matt asked, his purpose clear.

"No Matt, I didn't," I snipped. I rested my hands on my stomach, something that had become a habit since my bump had appeared. I sighed unhappily. "I haven't slept well since…since Jimmy died."

"We understand, Roison," Zacky's girlfriend Gena put in, but they didn't. They didn't understand. They could pretend that they understood, but they never would. Not until they lost their entire world. 

"Well Roison, this is Arin Ilejay," Matt introduced, an obvious attempt to thwart the tension building in the small room. "He used to drum for the band Confined, but we're gonna try him out behind the drums for Sevenfold."

"That's great," I forced out. But it wasn't great. The only person who should ever be behind the drum set for Sevenfold is Jimmy. But he's drumming for Jesus now, and I know he'd want Avenged Sevenfold to continue no matter what. He'd want the others to have a good time, even if he was no longer here. "Well, it was nice meeting you Arin, but I think I'm gonna go home."

"But you just got here, Roison," Brittany protested. "Why don't you stay for a little while longer? We were thinking about going out to dinner later."

"Baby Sullivan is making my stomach hurt," I lied. I knew they'd buy that; they bought anything that pertained to Jimmy's mini-me. They wanted to keep my unborn son safe as much as I did.

"Alright, well feel free to join us if you feel like it," Brittany sighed. She hated seeing me like this, I knew. And I hated being like this. "We'll be here 'til about four thirty, and then we'll head to Red Lobster, okay?"

I nodded to show my understanding, and then I quickly left the studio. I barely made it outside before the tears came steaming down my face. I hated this. I could try to muster up my strength and put on a strong front, but it was getting weaker everyday. It was fucking ridiculous how one man - one bright, infectious soul - could cause me such grief. I barely slept, I hardly ate, I cried multiple times a day. In a few months I would be a single mother. God had twisted my previously perfect life beyond recognition, and now all I could do was stand back and stare at the wreckage.

♪•♫•♪•♫•♪•♫•♪•♫•♪

Jimmy's gravestone was simple. His parents and I chose it together. It was engraved with the usual things: his name, his date of birth, his date of death. But his epitaph was far from generic. His lifelong friends from Avenged Sevenfold had come together and decided on an inscription for their friend's gravestone, and it was these words I traced now as I crouched carefully in front of his grave.

Jimmy jumped into life and never touched bottom.

"Hi Jimmy," I greeted weakly. Whenver I came here, I spoke to Jimmy as if he could speak back. It helped me to pretend that he wasn't really gone. "The guys found a new drummer. His…his name is Arin. I haven't heard him play yet, but I know there's no way he'll be better than you. You were prodigous. It's gonna be weird seeing someone besides you sitting behind the drums at a Sevenfold concert. I…I-I miss you, Jimmy. I know I say that every time I come here, but I only do that because it's true. I miss you every day. I miss your beautiful blue eyes, your smile, the smell of your cologne on the bedsheets. I miss your kisses, and the way you made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world whenever we made love. But most of all, I miss your passion. You loved your music and your band and your fans so much. You never missed a chance to play with Sevenfold, even if you were sick." Suddenly I paused and took a short second to collect myself, to catch my breath. "I can't believe it's been seven months. It seems like just yesterday we were cuddled on the couch watching corny Christmas movies. I wish I could have you back, Jimmy. But I know I can't. You live with God now. I hope you're saving a place for me, because I won't be spending eternity anywhere but at your side."

"That was beautiful," a voice said suddenly. I jumped and let out a yelp, placing a hand to my heaving chest. Turning around, I saw the new drummer standing behind me. Oh, what was his name again? Arin. Yes, that was it. Arin. He was unmistakeably young; it showed in his face. He was skinny - like Jimmy - but no where near as tall. "You really miss him, don't you?"

I crossed my arms over my chest and let out a ragged sigh. "Of course I do," I mumbled. I missed him every day, like the desert missed rain.

"Boy or girl?" he asked next, gesturing to my large stomach.

"Boy," I replied shortly. Jimmy's son, I thought immediately. "His name is Gaje."

"That's um…that's a nice name," Arin complimented. I ducked my head and mumbled a thank you. What on earth was this kid doing making small talk about my dead husband in a cemetery?

"What are you doing here?" I asked, voicing my question. 

"I think you and I got off on the wrong foot earlier," Arin responded. "I didn't realize you were gonna be there, and…and when Brian introduced you, I felt awful."

"Why?" I asked. 

"'Cause I'm replacing your husband--" he started.

"You are not replacing Jimmy," I stated strongly. "No one can replace Jimmy. No one can replace his smile, or the way he smells, or the way he lifted up a room when he walked through the door. No one."

"I didn't mean like that," Arin put in quickly. He ran a hand back through his lengthy brown hair. "I know that there's no way anyone could replace Jimmy in that way for you or any of the guys. I just meant…I'm replacing him as the drummer. And Zacky told me that it might hard for you to deal with that."

These words made my hair bristle angrily. Zacky had no right to go around saying things like that. Whether or not it was actually true, it was my choice to let people know. "Be that as it may," I hissed. "You still didn't have to follow me to my husband's grave. This is a private place. You didn't know him."

"But I wish I had," Arin said softly. "From what the others say, he was an amazing person."

"He was," I agreed with a soft smile. Suddenly I was whisked away to the past, when Jimmy was still alive and well and loving me. The memories were bittersweet; I loved them, but at the same time they brought me immeasurable anguish. "I think I'm gonna go."

"Oh, that reminds me. Brittany said something about bringing you along for our eating plans even if it meant forcibly dragging you there," Arin admitted sheepishly.

I laughed a bit. That did sound like something Brittany Sanders would say. "Tell her I'll be there as soon as I can," I told him. He gave a nod, and my eyes followed him as he left the cemetery.