Behind Tear-Stained Eyes: Charting New Waters Filled With Hellfire

By Jyl London

Behind Tear-Stained Eyes is the sequel to the fictional book, Behind the Fake Smile. Both books are based on real-life experiences. 

Depression can’t hit a moving target. That was a phrase to live by for Chelsea Hansen-Smith. She was full of life and love, and she had big goals, but she was to discover that life do

• Language: English
• Publisher: Author Jyl London
• Release date: Apr 27, 2020
• ISBN: 9781734598131

Jyl London

Jyl is the Author and Writer of Behind the Fake Smile and Behind Tear-Stained Eyes. A book series based on her actual real-life events.She is also the CEO and President of several companies and the Founder of Love of Life (LOL) Foundation, a non-profit organization. She has worked in IT for over 28 years and has a zest for knowledge in all thing's technology.As you read her book, you will discover that her life experiences are that of a soap opera mixed with a little fairytale.

Book preview

Chelsea gazed out her bathroom window, trying to erase the images of her dad lying dead. His skin a purplish-grey tint, reminiscent of clay. Whether asleep or awake, she would see his face frozen solid. He looked to her more like a statue than the man she knew as her dad. It all happened so quickly. One moment he was out of surgery, and, the next, he was dead without warning, she thought.

She was startled from her thoughts by singing. She looked over and saw one-year-old Carter playing with the singing balloon from his grandpa’s surgery. Carter is obsessed with that balloon, but if I have to hear the song, Don’t Worry Be Happy, one more time, I’m going to pop the damn thing.

She grabbed the balloon and hid it from Carter. It is nice to have something happy in our household right now, but I’m tired of hearing that song, Chelsea sighed as she distracted Carter with a new toy that he’d received for his birthday. She looked at the toy and smiled, grateful that Carter’s first birthday was the week before her dad’s death. It was a blessing. No one would have guessed a week later that her dad would be dead.

Chelsea was in full organization and productivity mode as she dealt with all of the funeral arrangements. Staying busy was a way to occupy her time and her thoughts while she was grieving. Chelsea wondered why she went into work mode to deal with the tragedy while those around her seemed to shut down.

As she was ordering flowers for the wake, her mind kept drifting to why she felt guilt for not shutting down while grieving like everyone else in her family. She finished up the order and added the arrival date to her planner.

She had recently attended her boss’s funeral, and now she was planning her dad’s funeral. She barely had time to think, let alone find time to organize her dad’s finances, and file the insurance claims for her mom.

Chelsea was walking to put laundry away but stopped at Carter’s room and found herself stuck in place, staring at it. The dump truck matched a stencil painting that Chelsea was about to paint on the wall of the bedroom, which would transform Carter’s baby room into a toddler room. Chelsea’s dad had finished it days before he died, and she had set it in Carter’s room when they got home. She hadn’t really thought about it before now. She had set it on the nightstand with little thought or care about placement. But now she wondered whether her dad knew that he would die. He finished so many things before his death: a clock, a will, and a few signs for the doors of her children’s bedrooms. Clearly marking thirteen-year-old Tabby’s space, nine-year-old Mace’s space, and Carter’s space.

She laughed as she reminisced the time that she had pointed out to her dad that he had forgotten to make one for Aaron, her husband, and he gave her an eye roll before he said that he’d work on it. A day later, her dad had something for Aaron too.

She sat on Carter’s bed, staring at the clock, folded laundry forgotten.

Perhaps he knew, subconsciously, she thought to herself. Tears filled her eyes, but she didn’t notice them. She was still thinking about her dad and how much he left behind. Before the surgery, before his untimely death, he had changed as a person, for the better.

She was trying to recall whether she had ever forgiven him. She resented thinking about how selfish he had been most of her life, but the last year he’d changed—in his demeanor, in his willingness to take an interest and spend one-on-one time with her children. His words were more loving, as were his actions. There was no denying it. Was it the church that made him change? They had all started going to church when Tabby decided to get baptized. Or maybe he knew that his time was almost up? She couldn’t say.

But sixty-five years old is young, and to pass after a scope on his knee? It’s all odd and makes absolutely no sense. She sighed to herself and stood back up, tears forgotten even as they dripped down her face.

Chelsea tossed and turned all night. She looked at the clock and sighed at how early she was awake. She decided that she should soak in the bathtub. I’ll put Carter in my bed to sleep, and, that way, when he wakes up, I don’t have to jump out of the bathtub and run all the way to the opposite side of the house to get him, she declared.

As she was running the bathwater, she caught a look at herself in the bathroom mirror. She looked tired. She felt it too. She submerged herself in the bathtub, trying to drown out the images of her life flashing before her eyes. She was so lost in thought that the simplest tasks were taking her forever, and she had a full day ahead of her at the funeral home. She allowed the water to swish around her sides as her mind faded into dullness and foggy illusion. The sensation of the steamy water calmed her.

She watched the steam blur her image in the mirror. Just then, she saw from the reflection in the mirror closest to the door the singing balloon floating in the corner, and she smiled. She had tried to figure out where to hide it earlier that week, but, every time she thought about how to get rid of it, she remembered Carter’s smile and the way her nine-year-old, Mace, had smiled when they picked it out for her dad. She couldn’t get rid of it yet. The balloon reminded her of her dad and of how happy her children were in the days before his death. The children wanted to give that balloon to their grandpa so bad, and, when he received it, he loved it and played the song over and over.

Chelsea reminisced about her dad sitting in his chair. That was the last place she had seen him alive. Her dad’s chair was his sacred space to unwind at the end of the day. He would plop himself down daily on the unattractive, mud-brown throne and immediately turn on the television. He would be glued to the box, with his eyes almost turning square as he sat entranced, watching sports—but that night was different. He turned down the volume on the TV and didn’t yell as her children stood in the way of his view. Her dad sat holding Carter and watched Mace as he made the balloon sing. Carter would giggle every single time, which made everyone in the room giggle with him, her dad’s booming laugh filling the room. It was such an entertaining last night, and she couldn’t give up that balloon yet.

She sat lost in thought, staring at Carter asleep through the reflection in the mirror. His little sleeping face turned toward the open bathroom door. He looked peaceful —the opposite of how everyone else seemed to be sleeping in the house. It warmed her, and her smile grew a little wider.

Chelsea climbed out of the bath and began drying off. She stood staring at Carter when, out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the balloon move from the corner of the room. The balloon rolled under the vaulted ceiling to the non-vaulted ceiling. It continued through the ceiling fan blades and floated to just above Carter, where the ribbon string landed into his open palm. He felt the ribbon and was awoken by it. She rushed over, marveling at what she’d witnessed. She moved the balloon to the side so that she could pick up Carter, and it began to sing as she touched it.

Well, why didn’t it sing as it was bouncing across the ceiling? she thought as Carter started to give his infectious giggle as it sang. She kissed his cheek hard and asked, Did Grandpa come and play with you?

Carter looked at her, smiled, and reached for the balloon.

Chelsea began wandering through the dark woods, enjoying the crisp air and ominous brittle silence when she heard the buzzing of a machine. The sound reminded her of the scroll saw-machine that her dad used to use. She began walking toward the sound. As she walked closer, she saw a bright light in the dark, shining upon her dad sitting at the machine, wood chips flying through the air. Dad? she called.

Her dad turned around, smiling at her as she ran up to him and hugged him. Dad, you left without saying goodbye. I didn’t get to tell you all the things I wanted to tell you. Nobody expected you to be gone already. Chelsea started crying.

He let out a booming laugh. I haven’t gone anywhere. I’m right beside you now.

Chelsea smacked his shoulder playfully. I mean in real-life, not in my dream state. Clearly, you’re a smart-ass, even in heaven.

He bellowed, turned to her, and, with a serious look, said, Chels, I know it’s hard, but nothing is as it seems. You have lots to do in life, and I need you to be a strong example to those around you. You’ve no idea how many people look up to you for inspiration and help.

Chelsea, dumbfounded, said, Why would anybody look to me for inspiration and help? My life has been anything but ideal, and I certainly am not an example of what to do in life.

He tilted his head and stated, You’re much more than you realize. Life’s been hard on you, and I wish I could say it’ll get easier, but it won’t. It all was written in the stars. Continue to have that big and forgiving heart of yours. Don’t let others take you from your purpose. I’m proud of you and all that you are. One day, you’ll look back on this talk, and it will become clear.

My purpose, what purpose? Like what? I don’t understand, Chelsea asked sobbing.

Her dad touched her face and wiped away the tears. Everything will be okay. I love you.

She watched as the light faded, and darkness surrounded her again. Chelsea fell to the ground, imagining the same thing over and over again. The paradise with her dad was instantly taken apart as if she had lost him again.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Chelsea pushed the snooze button, hoping to return and find her dad, but after tossing and turning, she willed herself to wake up. She knew it was no use—she was up, and her brain was going a million miles an hour.

Aaron walked into the room with breakfast, and a bright red rose on a tray. She sat up, and he placed it on her lap. The plate had waffles, scrambled eggs, and turkey bacon with a side of orange juice. All of the foods were her favorites.

Chelsea said, Breakfast in bed, huh? Thank you for being so amazing. It looks delicious. How did the smell of bacon not wake me up?

Aaron smiled and said, That nasty turkey bacon doesn’t have the wake-up aroma.

Chelsea laughed. I can’t believe you went and shopped for turkey bacon for me. I’ve been so busy. I knew we didn’t have many groceries. My morning started with waking up from a dream with my dad. I felt like I lost him all over again. So great timing. Thank you again for the breakfast. It looks delicious.

Aaron stooped down and kissed Chelsea on the forehead. He said, I know you are going through a hard time. I’m glad I made you smile today. Hey, I’m going to take all the children to play with their cousins. It’ll allow you to maybe get some peace and quiet for a bit.

Chelsea grinned. I have a lot of organizing to do. That’ll be great.

Aaron shook his head and asked, Can you try to rest in there too?

She shrugged her shoulders playfully and exclaimed, I’ll try, but no promises. I love you.

I love you too, babe. Have an amazing day, Aaron said, as he slowly closed the bedroom door.

Chelsea thought and realized that this day would be the first time she would be alone with her thoughts since her dad’s funeral. She looked forward to organizing and cleaning since it made her feel like she could control her surroundings in some way.

As Chelsea was in the family room, putting back all of the items she took to her dad’s funeral, she heard a knock at the door. She opened the door to see a younger pregnant woman holding a plate of cookies. Hi, I’m Heidi, and I wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.

She had jet black hair with piercing brown eyes that seemed to dance when she spoke. Chelsea noticed her nails had been bitten down to the quick. She had nibbled them away, like a starving mouse. Her shoulders were slumped, and she was unable to make eye contact with Chelsea. She seems nervous and shy.

Chelsea wanted to accomplish quite a bit while her family was away, but something told her that she needed to stop what she was doing and talk to this young woman instead.

Thank you for bringing these cookies. That was sweet of you. Let’s have one and chat for a second, Chelsea said as she embraced her in a hug and ushered her into the family room.

Chelsea thought, The timing sucks, but what is it that I feel about this woman? She seems familiar to me, and I can feel sadness in her.

They both sat on the couch next to each other. Heidi was sitting straight up, with her legs forward, and Chelsea plopped down, more relaxed with one knee bent and pointing toward Heidi.

Usually, Chelsea would be annoyed by a surprise visit, mainly when she had so much to do, but this time she could sense that this young woman needed her.

Chelsea looked at Heidi and said, Tell me about yourself. Have you lived here long?

Heidi’s head lowered, and she fidgeted. Quietly, she said, My husband, Jeffrey, bought the house a few months ago when he found out I was pregnant.

Chelsea smiled. Well, it’s a beautiful house to raise a baby. Do you know if you’re having a boy or a girl?

Heidi stammered, "Um . . . my husband won’t let me find out the sex of the baby, but he wants a boy. I’m not sure I can handle a baby and my husband. He’s a bit of a drinker and a scary drunk."

Chelsea consoled her, Babies are a lot of work, that’s for sure. I have a little baby as well. I’m sorry to hear about your husband. It sounds like he can get quite violent and controlling.

Heidi pursed her lips and blurted, That’s an understatement. I’m so scared of him, and I told him that. He blamed my depression and called me bipolar.

We all go through rough patches, said Chelsea, but violence is never acceptable. Is there anything I can do?

Heidi’s eyes filled with tears as she spoke, It’s only when he drinks. He promised me that he would give up drinking. If I see him start drinking, I usually jump in the car and drive. I come back the next morning when I know it’s safe and he’s hungover.

Chelsea touched Heidi’s shoulder as she started to sob. You’re welcome to come over here anytime. Hopefully, he stops drinking. That’s probably contributing to your depression. Not being able to relax and be pregnant.

Heidi nodded and dried her tears.

Ever since Chelsea was young, strangers would immediately tell her intimate details of their lives. Chelsea’s mom used to marvel that people felt so comfortable around her. They would talk as if they had known Chelsea their whole life—and then look to her for advice.

Chelsea listened, feeling her energy absorbing Heidi’s energy. Chelsea started to feel strange because she felt vibes as if Heidi’s soul were weeping. As she was listening intently to Heidi, she watched her become more comfortable in her body language.

Chelsea found that Heidi was only twenty-one years old and unexpectedly pregnant with her first child. She had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, but she had to go off her medicine due to her pregnancy—all of which had made her even more anxious about her husband.

As they were talking, Heidi looked up at the clock and panicked. She blurted to Chelsea, I’ve got to go. Jeffrey is coming home, and I need to have dinner ready.

Chelsea lightly grabbed her arm, walked her into the kitchen, and stated, Here, take this casserole home. The kids are out to eat with their dad, and we won’t eat it. We’ll talk later, okay?

Heidi looked at the casserole with surprise, smiled, and gave Chelsea a big hug. It was a hug that a child would give her mom, but Chelsea