I draw my knees up, bringing forth another pain. The bump that gave me comfort through my mom’s suffering is no longer there.
He tries hugging me, begging me to stop. Stop what?
“Where!” My voice comes out unhuman, like a wounded animal, like a lost soul.
Is that what I am? A lost soul?
I THINK IT’S BEEN A week.
It feels like much longer.
I’m stuck in a constant battle of sleep and numbness. I’m hostage to seclusion and depravity of emotions that wreak havoc on my soul.
I’m not sure what day it is. If it’s night or day. If I’m alive or not. If the air I breathe is air I deserve. I killed her. My daughter. She’s gone, and it’s all my fault. How else did she not make it to live, to grow, to love? She missed it all. She missed everything a child should get. No hugs. No kisses. No love. You are so loved, baby girl. The sounds that escape me are animalistic, like one hit by a car, suffering until someone has the humanity to put it down. That’s me—broken, irreparable, and inconsolable.
I haven’t moved out of this bed other than to use the restroom. Even then, it’s a chore. The ache constantly wears on me. I’m barely alive... if you could call this living. I’m a shell. I’m barely here, and it’s anything but okay.
They’re gone.
Both of them.
Both of them.
Her name. We decided on a name last month. My heart breaks as I think of her. Think of her small body. Her tiny hands, her ten tiny toes, her button nose, her eyes that would never open, the lips that’d never smile, her mess of blonde hair like her father. She was so beautiful. Would she have his eyes or mine? Would she grow up to be sassy like Jaz or stubborn like Ace? I’ll never know. She never got the chance. We never got the chance.
Lilac Brae Collins.
Her name.
The one who has both Jase’s mom’s middle name and my mom’s middle name.
The perfect name for the child too perfect for this world.
I heave, the dryness the only thing coming from my throat. The tears won’t come. I’ve tried. I’ve cried all my body allows. I’ve vomited all my body would let me. There’s nothing left. I haven’t eaten. I haven’t seen my children, and Jase has kept them away. I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t want them to see me like this either.
My bed smells of sweat and sorrow. It beckons me to get out of it and find a new hidey hole. I make it all of ten steps before I shake uncontrollably. The weight of my body, the fatigue, and the dizziness takes everything out of me.
What did I do to deserve this?
Mom. Lilac. Did they die knowing I loved them?
That thought alone takes my breath away, purging me of everything I thought I’d numbed myself to.
“Mom, I know I didn’t say it enough, but I love you so damn much,” I cry out to no one. “I loved you, baby girl, even though you never heard the words while I kissed you goodnight.”
The crippling awareness has me shaking, or maybe it’s the lack of food and water. Jase tried shoving both down my throat yesterday, but I nearly bit his hand off. I stare at the ceiling, begging for answers no one will ever have for me.
“You knew that, right? You knew that you were my world, my savior, and the one that got me through everything, right?” Tears trail my cheeks, the pain eating me alive. “I know I didn’t come around often enough, Mom. I know you were alone a lot, with Dad having to work and with Nate in another state. I know, Mom. I’m sorry in your last hours you couldn’t speak. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything I needed to.”
I collapse to the linoleum, my knees smacking the floor with a loud thud. The ache smothers me. The pain doesn’t register in my mind, though. I’m completely void of feeling.
“I’m sorry, guys. I’m so fucking sorry!” My scream reverberates through the room. “Please. Please make this pain go away.”
It hurts so fucking much.
There’s so much regret in my soul. No wonder it’s why I’ve completely shut down. No wonder it’s why I can’t breathe on a daily basis. No wonder I feel paralyzed from deep within.
No one ever tells you how much agony heartbreak will bring. No one knows how immeasurable the pain is, that it comes when you’re weakest but also when you’re happiest. It hits you at random moments, plowing into you like a two-ton weight. It flattens you, breaks you, and slowly kills you.
“Mom,” I cry out, “Lilac.” Sobs attempt to overtake me, but the tears are still struggling to escape. “Why did you leave me?”
I grip my chest, wondering where my heart left. Did it leave with you? Did it leave with my stillborn child? Was it ever there to begin with?
I’d once thought it beat for Jase, but then I had Ace and Jaz, and learned it beat for an entire other reason. Now, who does it beat for? Because it sure as hell isn’t for me.
Life’s unfair, but even with knowing, the loss isn’t any easier.
“You were getting better! You had such good days, and still, you left!” The anger comes too, the absolute hate for fate, that she left. “Lilac was healthy! She was supposed to meet me, Mom! She was supposed to grow with Jaz and Ace—to know what love was like!” I beat the floor with my fists, then with my palms. The smacking vibrates up my arms.
“I know you didn’t have a choice! I know you were taken, but why’d you take her with you, Mom?! Why’d she have to go too?”
She gave up.
She gave in.
And Lilac did too.
“Why did you have to take her with you? She didn’t even get to meet me yet! She left with you. I know they say angel babies are ones that are too good for earth, but I wanted her! I wanted to raise her, Mom! I wanted her to grow, I wanted to see that. Why, Mom? Why did she leave me too?”
My entire body shakes with uncontrollable heartache. My chest getting heavier with each breath. My soul weeps for everything taken from me. The body ripped away from me, the heart taken with their deaths. With each memory passing through me, I cry.
It was a death sentence. Even knowing that, even realizing it was killing her that she’d never have survived, it hurts. It only hurts further that my daughter left along with her.
It’s like she knew—knew that she needed to help my mom be at peace.
And then I was all alone.
Surrounded by people, but completely alone.
chapter twenty-three
Present
Jase
I refuse.
I refuse to accept she’s pregnant.
She can’t be carrying a child. Our child? I made goddamn sure to wrap up every single time we fucked. Jesus. My mind races, wondering how I ended up sleeping with my wife’s best friend, how I allowed myself to get into bed with a woman who isn’t my wife. Resentment bubbles through. Did she tamper with the condoms?
Stop. She wouldn’t do that.
Nora came at the right time. She knew I was suffering.
Just like in college when I knew she was hurting.
But you never cheated then.
Back in high school, I used to call her Eleanor. It’s how I pushed her aside. She hated that name. Then, it turned to Nora, the woman who got inside my chest, burrowing her talons in me endlessly. I never saw her coming, couldn’t even prepare for it.
Seeing Lo’s face in the driveway, I’ve never felt astronomically stupid. What have I done?
I thought I would have a chance to fix us, to not ruin everything and move forward. Grovel, maybe. Show her I fucked up, but nothing has changed. She’s the only love of my life. She’s my soul. Not the mate but the soul. She keeps it intact, keeps me sane and wholesome. The more I think of it, the more I see Lo’s face after seeing Ellie... I know it’s over.
It’s over.
We’re done.
I feel it inside of me, the weight of it festering inside like a geyser, waiting to explode, waiting to destroy everything in sight, and my heart is first to go.
“Jason,” Nora whines.
Usually I
find her peaceful. Right now, she’s cancer. She’s obsidian death creeping over my limbs, sucking me dry of anything light. Without Lo, that brightness is gone. Without Lo, only blackness and hate survives.
“She hates me,” Nora pouts, her lip wobbling, making me hate her in this moment for making this about herself.
“What the fuck do you expect?” I bark, my face hot. “Did you think she’d be okay with us fucking? Tainting the only love either of us had with her? I told you to stop, that we were done. My biggest regret is sticking my dick in you when she needed me. Biggest fucking regret, Eleanor. Look at you now. You’ve ruined it... for the both of us.” The vehemence spitting from my tongue is as acidic as the taste in my mouth. Lethal. Rotten. Decayed.
Grinding my teeth until they feel like they’ll break, I breathe through my nose as much as possible. If I open my mouth, I’ll say shit she doesn’t want to hear. I’ll say shit I’ll regret. I’ll say shit that’ll tarnish every good memory, replacing it with bad. Only bad.
And at this moment, I know. I know she made this little thing happen. She made it so Lo would see her. She knew. Somehow, she realized Lo would come home and see us together. It’s what she wanted. Her little revenge, a temper tantrum.
Lo’s face proved what I already knew. She’s not going to recover any time soon, if at all.
“Do you think I care?” she screeches, her eyes full of tears and smeared with mascara. “I don’t. She’s nothing to me. You are everything, Jason.”
Is she fucking mad?
In what world would we have been together?
Even with feelings involved, they didn’t touch my profound and fierce love for my wife. Though she helped heal me, she was nothing. She paled in comparison.
“Leave,” I shout, waving her off.
Her eyes narrow, her hatred and venom dripping from the sneer on her lips.
“You can’t do this. I won’t let you. I’m carrying your child,” she hisses.
“Maybe if you listened or even shut your mouth for five seconds, this friendship could’ve been salvaged. Not anymore.”
“Friendship?” she jeers, spit leaving her lips. “We have something, Jason. It’s love!”
“No!” I growl. “Had. We had. It was an indulgence, a selfish cry for help. You’re the drugs that’ll kill me. Loren is the rehab that’ll save me. She is the cure, and you’re the fucking disease.”
I don’t look back when I walk away and slam the front door, locking it behind me. My back collides with the wood, and I slowly slide down it.
Ace
YOU’RE TOLD NOTHING is certain. It’s explained many times by many people. Nothing is perfect or right. But my parents? They’ve always proven that statement untrue.
They proved love conquered all.
It survived their school years and the birth of me and Jazzy bear. I even thought it survived Grandma’s death.
It didn’t.
Suddenly, love didn’t conquer all.
Love didn’t endure her death.
It didn’t prevail all circumstances.
It lost, and so did we.
Lilac. I had another sister. We never got to meet her. I remember Mom talking about her, telling us she would love us, and I love being a big brother. I love protecting Jazzy, and wanted to protect Lilac, too. Dad said she had to go, that her love was too bright and beautiful for the world, but it didn’t stop me from being angry. It hurt that she didn’t want to meet me as much as I wanted to meet her. I wanted to help Mom feed her, watch her grow big like Jazzy, and to one day need me to defend her. I wanted to play video games with her and help her learn how to read.
But she left.
She abandoned me, too.
I’m young, but I see things. When you’re forced to grow up in the midst of death, you see everything from the outside. It’s like your life is a fish bowl, and you’re the one looking in.
I remember seeing my mom break, seeing her beat herself up over Grandma’s death. It hurt me to see her in so much pain. It killed me knowing there was nothing I could do.
I tried loving the life back into her. No matter how much love I put into her, into our family, into everything around us, it wasn’t enough.
She disappeared for a while.
I know it wasn’t her intention. She tried. She failed, though.
Even when she was lost, she loved me.
I love her so much.
Now, she’s back. It’s like no time has passed, but I see the pain she tries to hide. I see everything she tries to keep from us all.
She’ll hug me, and it’s like she has to remind herself that it’s okay to love me. When she kisses my forehead, it’s longer than it once was, like if she lets go too soon, I’ll disappear too.
She’s damaged.
She doesn’t know that I see how she is with Uncle T or how he watches her with more love than Dad shows her, but it’s like she doesn’t notice. Her eyes are almost vacant, the life gone or hidden beneath the brown hues of her irises.
I want to hug and love the sadness out of her. Is that possible? Can I protect her from her pain and ease it with my own love? It hurts seeing her in pain and noticing Dad doesn’t care. He doesn’t protect and heal her like he’s supposed to.
He changed.
We were close once. He used to take me to baseball and football games. We used to play catch, go to the movies, and even play video games together. It’s not like that anymore, and at first, it made me unbearably sad. Now, all that’s left is anger.
It’s because of Aunt El. He doesn’t know that I know, that I’ve seen them, that Gray told me everything months ago.
And I hate them for it. Both of them.
“Ace!” Gray yells, running toward me.
Her mom just dropped her off, and we usually walk to class together. Gray has this unspoken crush on me, but she’s too good of a friend for me to want romance. I’m focused and determined to get into Brookewood like my dad.
“What’s up?” I inquire when she finally catches up to me.
Her eyes search my face, like she’s holding something back. We have Baker’s class in fifteen minutes. If she doesn’t spring it on me now, she’s not going to be able to. Our history teacher is strict about talking.
“Well, spit it out, String Bean.”
“I hate when you call me that,” she mutters. “I don’t know how to tell you. No matter which way it goes, you’ll hate me. I don’t want to lose our friendship, Ace, and I definitely don’t want to make home worse for you.”
Gray knows about my mom. I tell her everything. Literally. She’s the only person I can talk to who understands. If our parents weren’t best friends, I wouldn’t say it.
“You’re making me nervous,” I pry, hoping she’ll give me relief. This has my anxiety worse than normal. She knows this. She was there for me as my mom shut down on us all. She always listens to me. Hell, she’s practically family.
“Your dad...” she pauses, biting her lip. She grips the straps to her backpack, her eyes on the ground in front of us,
“My dad, what?”
“I saw him...” She stops again. Her knuckles blotchy from the grip she has on her bag. “I saw him with my mom this morning.”
Why would he be with Ellie?
Why would it matter that he was with Ellie?
They’re old friends.
Something unsettling builds inside me. Dad never came home last night.
No. He wouldn’t do that to my mom, to our family, to Jazzy. No. He wouldn’t. It must be my teenager brain. He wouldn’t cheat on Mom. Right?
“What do you mean?”
There, not jumping to conclusions.
“I woke up earlier today for pictures. Wanted to curl my hair, or whatever,” she says, blushing. “But I heard talking and went to investigate. Mom never brings guys home...” she trails off as if embarrassed. “Well, I went into the kitchen. Your dad was kissing her, his shirt wasn’t on, and they were practically humping.”
&nb
sp; By the end, she has tears in her eyes. Whether from fear or disappointment, she’s crying. And I’m fuming. A rage I’ve never experienced fills me. Hatred unlike anything describable makes my body freeze in the middle of the hallway.
“What the fuck did you just say?” I demand venomously. I don’t mean to sound cruel, but the bitterness in my system is stronger than any care in the world.
“Our parents. They’re cheating on your mom.”
Cheating. My piece of crap dad is stepping out on my mom.
“Why’s Daddy and Aunt Ewwie fighting, Ace?” Jaz mopes next to me, bringing me back from the memory. I’ve been watching them for a half hour through the blinds.
My sister isn’t aware of the bad things in life, and I plan to keep it that way.
“Probably forgot that it’s my birthday soon,” I lie.
My dad and Ellie have been screwing around on Mom, and she just found out. Good. I told myself I would tell her if he didn't. She doesn’t deserve to be lied to. But I didn’t. I chickened out. It’d destroy our family. It has destroyed our family.
“It’s your birfday?” Her eyes are wide, and her bottom lip protrudes. “We didn’t get you a cake,” she pouts.
“Oh, no, Jazzy bear. It’s not for a few weeks. Don’t worry. You didn’t forget,” I cajole, trying to soothe her anxiety. I pull her onto my lap, kissing her forehead and rubbing circles into her back. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head.”
“I don’t like when everyone fights,” she whimpers. Little whimpers continue to shake her tiny frame.
I hold her close then lift her, taking her to my room to watch Shrek.
“Let’s watch your favorite ogre,” I say, distracting her. “I’ll even make you popcorn.”
“Really?” she asks, her crying put on a momentary hold. She has a dog’s attention span sometimes, and I admire that.
“Yup, and I’ll even let you sit in my chair.”
“No way!” she shouts, her face filled with excitement.
I wipe away the stray tears and set her on my bean bag chair.
“I’ll be back. Get the movie started,” I suggest. She may be young, but she can operate the Xbox like a pro.
Inhale, Exhale Page 20
