by Daisy Allen
"No. I'm okay. Do you mind staying?"
“No, sure, of course.”
I give him a soft smile before I close my eyes and lay my head back.
He might have Ram and Kaine. But I have Cameron.
And maybe, maybe that’s what we’ll have to be happy having, for the rest of our lives.
I knew I should never have told him.
But it turns out, neither of us has ever been really good at protecting the other.
Thirty-two
Him
"Hey. Dickwad."
The giant turns, slowly, from the waist, his biceps protruding like two baked hams from his shoulders, his forearms dangling by the elbows. I can't help but wonder how he can reach behind to wipe his own ass. He blocks most of the light from the main road into the back alley where I’m leaning against the paint-cracked wall.
"You better not be fucking talking to me,” it growls, as it tries to place my face in the dark.
"I don't see any other dickwads around here, do you?" I push off the wall, the vibrating from the club music on the other side causing too much fuzz in my brain.
"No, but I see a little shit about to get his brains pounded out.”
"Well, that definitely can't be you then.”
He growls again, and I can see the rumble of the wide expanse of meat, muscle, and bone up his barn door of a chest as he takes a step toward me. There’s a ripple across his reddening forehead that suggests he’s a little surprised that I don’t move back in response.
He wouldn’t be surprised if he knew why I was here. And running away isn’t a part of it.
“You got a death wish, you fuck?”
Yes. But that’s beside the point.
“I heard you caused a bit of trouble for my guys at the construction site.”
“What do you know about that?”
“I know I don’t want anything getting in the way of that youth shelter being ready in a month.”
His eyes narrow and I know he knows why I look familiar now. “Well, I don’t want that bleeding heart tax write-off around the corner from my apartment building. Those little shits are going to cause trouble. Let them go litter the streets with their overdosed stinking corpses somewhere else.”
There's a pounding behind my eye that mirrors the pounding I want to give him.
Not yet, Xave. Not yet. I tell myself.
“Wow, you’re a real gem of a human, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, you bet I fucking am. I’m not trying to lower anybody’s real estate value just so I can sleep at night. Don’t you stand there in your fucking Armani and Rolex and lecture me about charity, what the fuck do you know about being on the streets? Give me a break, fucking savior complex. You and your buddy and that blonde whore strutting around Harlem like you’re God’s gift to the poor.”
He spits straight ahead. And I've got to give it to him, it takes some balls to do that without even feeling the need to turn his head. His phlegm lands about a foot from me, and the repulsion quickly replaces the grudging credit I might have given him if he wasn't a complete fuckbag.
My hands pull out of my pockets as I walk up to him. He smells just like I imagine, a combination of over-sprayed cologne, testosterone, and bourbon.
I walk up to him, and I don't stop until I can count the number of clogged pores on his nose.
"Stay. The Fuck. Away from my employees. And away from my youth center."
He snickers, and the bourbon fumes almost knock me off my feet.
"Or what?"
"You don't wanna know."
"Too bad. I'm a curious fella. Come to think of that, that blonde, she is a cute one, isn't she? Why don't you send her to do your negotiations next time? At least there’s something from her I want. Or maybe I can just take it."
He barely finishes his sentence before my fist connects with his face. Experience tells me, I should feel the burn of my knuckle-skin tearing and the jarring of my whole arm, but I feel nothing. In slow motion all I see is his face turning back toward me, blood already dripping from his nose, the startled look on his face already turning to something like bloodlust.
If he wants my blood, he can have it. But not without paying with his own first.
I pull my hand back and swing it toward him again before he can react. This time it rams into his chin and he barely stumbles to the side before I feel a giant fist slam into my diaphragm. Every ounce of air in my body leaves me, and I feel the bile push up into my esophagus.
Before I can steady myself, I feel my arms pulled backward, two hands around each wrist, like vices.
Fuck. He wasn’t alone.
"What? You can't handle me on your own, you gotta bring your goons in on this?" I taunt him, trying to struggle against them, but there's no point. It's three giants against me now.
He just grins, nostrils flaring at the pheromones seeping from his own sweaty skin as he pushes the sleeves of his shirt up as far as they can up his baked ham forearms. He walks up to me, his rough sausage fingers gripping my chin as he bares his teeth.
"It's going to be such a shame to fuck up this pretty face. Your little blonde isn't going to recognize you once I'm done with you,” he pants.
"Still going to be prettier than that overcooked meatloaf you've got on top of your shoulders.” And this time it’s my turn to spit straight at him.
His eyes narrow and his lips tighten against his top row of yellow teeth. It'd be almost comical if I wasn't thinking about how it's going to be the last thing I ever see. He draws his fist back and slams it into my stomach, and it feels like a truck driving into my guts.
I try to double over, but they hold my broken body up.
I'm wrong, the last thing I'm going to see is stars.
And the last thing I'll say is her name.
Thirty-three
Her
My phone is ringing. It's ringing and I have no idea where it is. Or where I am. I open my eyes, and I don't recognize the sheets on the bed, the pillow under my head, or the clock on the nightstand next to me. I drag myself up, patting the mattress around me for my phone, my eyes focusing on the window to my left. Those curtains. Those curtains I do recognize. I bought them. For Cameron.
I'm in Cameron's bed.
The realization dawns just as my hand closes around the flat, smooth shape of my iPhone. Jade, the name flashes at me.
"Jade?" I rasp into the phone.
"Isabella," she says. And I know. Something is wrong. "It's Xavier."
"What's wrong?"
"Just go downstairs, Kaine has a car for you, it's going to take you to the hospital."
"The what?" I spring to my feet. I'm relieved to see I'm still dressed in my underwear, my dress slung on the back of the chair in the corner.
"Just come. Hurry." She hangs up the phone with a click and I freeze for a moment, trying to decide between calling her back and running the fuck out of here.
Then the sound of her voice saying "hurry" replays in my head and I throw my dress over my head, running for the door.
"Woah! Where are you going? I brought you coffee!" Cameron almost slams into me, as I rush down the hallway.
"I... I gotta go. Can't talk! Sorry!" I don’t even have time to feel guilty for running out on him like this as I grab my bag and run out the door, my partner calling after me.
The ride down the elevator gives me time to straighten my clothes but I ignore my reflection in the glass. Then it dawns on me, how did Kaine know to send the car here. Two minutes ago, I didn't even remember I was here.
The answer is there when I arrive at the street to see Ram holding the car door open for me. I can't meet his eyes, I just mumble hello and slide into the back seat of the town car. He closes the door behind me and settles into the passenger seat, giving the driver a nod.
I wait until we're in traffic before I ask, "Ram! What's wrong? What happened to Xavier?"
But it's silent all the way to the hospital.
***
Jade
is the first person I see as I rush into the ER. I'm relieved to see her, even though her hair is falling like a bird's nest around her face, and she's dressed in what looks like Kaine's suit coats over her pajamas. I've never seen her look anything but completely put together.
"Isabella!" She jumps up out of her seat and runs up to me, throwing her arms around me. I hold onto her a moment longer even when she pulls away. I don’t know who is comforting whom.
"What happened?" I ask, biting the inside of my lip to keep from yelling from the acidic fear burning in the pit of my stomach.
"He... Xavier... they found him..." Her red-rimmed eyes fill instantly with tears and she stops, trying to catch her breath. I just want to shake her to get the information out, but I can see this isn't easier for her than it is for me.
Not for the first time, I can't help but think how lucky he has been to have found such friends.
"He's in bad shape," Kaine says as he comes up behind his wife, touching her softly on the shoulder. "He was being beaten up by some guys in a back alley near the Cotton Club. Some people walking past saw it and they intervened. Lucky because... as it is..."
"W-w-what... how bad is it?"
I'm too scared to look at Jade again, who lets out a sob, and Kaine leads her over to the row of seats before coming back. He gestures with his head and I follow him to a quiet spot down the hall.
"He's in surgery right now."
"Oh my god!"
Kaine waits for a beat while I process before he continues. "He has at least three fractured ribs and a broken cheekbone."
I gasp, but he's not done yet.
"But what the doctors are most worried about is that he might have some internal bleeding. They... they beat him up pretty badly."
I don't know what to say; I just stare up at him. He's pulled his hoodie back, his face completely exposed. But instead of feeling uneasy, I find something comforting about his scars. Or that he trusts me with them.
"We'll know more soon. I've got the best doctors on it, you know that."
I nod. I know.
"Why... what? Why did this happen?"
"I'm... I'm not sure. We're still looking into it."
There's a twitch of his jaw, and I know there's more than what he's telling me. But I'm too busy worried about Xavier's current state to dwell on it too much.
"Can... can I do anything?"
"I think being here is the best thing you can do. I know he'd want you to be here."
"I don't know. We... we had a fight at the..."
Kaine reaches out and squeezes my hand. "No. He'd want you to be here. No matter what," he says, his voice soft but firm.
I just nod.
Down the hall, we hear Jade cough, and his head whips toward her, his eyes sharp but worried. It's an involuntary action that tells me everything I need to know about them. She wraps her arms around herself but doesn't cough again. I see his shoulders relax and he turns back toward me. The corners of his eyes crinkle a little when he realizes I was watching him.
"She's been a little tired lately, the baby's been keeping her up."
I shake my head, "No, don't apologize for worrying about your wife. It's really sweet."
He smiles at me and walks back to her, before stopping and saying over his shoulder, "You know, everyone cares and worries in different ways. Sometimes it's sweet. Sometimes it's destructive. And sometimes it's up to us to decide whether the way we show that love is right or wrong."
***
An hour later, I see Ram walk through the hospital entrance. Leaning against him is Xavier's mother. He helps her over to a chair before giving me a quick look, as if to ask if I'm okay. I shrug and give him a little wave. His chin drops in the slightest nod and then disappears back down the hall, his giant shoulders slumped, his head down.
We haven't heard anything from the doctors yet, and with each ticking minute the tension rises.
I do the only thing I know how to do in that moment. I get up and sit down in the empty chair next to his mother. She scowls at me, her eyes wet and red, her lips tight against her lips. I ignore it and simply reach over, take her hand and squeeze it tight, not letting go.
She looks at me for a moment and then turns her face away but doesn't pull her hand back.
We all care and worry in different ways.
***
The door swings open and the doctor walks toward us down the hallway. We all stand up spring-loaded ready for the news.
"There was some damage to his spleen, but not a lot and we were able to repair it. His broken ribs didn't puncture his lungs and that's what we were most worried about. He should make a full recovery. We’re going to keep him sedated for a few more hours to make sure he gets the rest he needs. He’s very lucky that the damage wasn't worse and he was found when he was," the doctor says, and gives us a small smile.
Xavier's mother bursts instantly into tears. I have to bite my lip to stop myself from joining her; instead, I watch as Jade runs over and puts her arm around her. I hear Kaine pull the doctor aside with questions as I face the wall and stare at a poster of a doctor explaining to a child about cancer, trying not to think about what could’ve been.
The hours tick by. Slowly. Torturously so.
Several nurses come by to tell us he won’t be waking up any time soon and maybe we should go home and get some rest, but nobody moves. Eventually, they just stop trying.
I’ve felt time moving this slowly before.
Those first few days after I fled college following the attack, sitting in my hotel room, trying to sleep the day away. Watching the watch on my wrist tick second by second by second until midnight, when another day would pass. Another day I had survived without him. Another day I’d managed to stop myself calling him, writing him, begging him to come rescue me.
For the first time in my life, I’m questioning the choice I made then.
Had I made the right decision, not telling him?
It had taken me a long time, years, to get over the idea that I had only myself to blame for the attack. I’d never thought of myself as naïve, but knowing what I know now, would I ever have put myself in that position? I had felt uneasy with Damien before. But I still went to the studio that night. Because I thought dance was everything.
Turns out it wasn’t. I was still able to live a life without it.
And Xavier? Would I still able to live a life without him?
Survive, yes. But in just the few weeks he’s been back in my life, I’ve realized it wasn’t much of a life I was living before.
The image of him in his pajamas and slippers in the middle of Manhattan flashes in my mind. And I can’t help smiling.
He is many things: stubborn, uncommunicative, infuriatingly protective. But he’s always been able to do one thing. Surprise me. Well, two things. Surprise me and make me smile.
And that hasn’t changed after all these years.
Xavier, sweet Xavier. He’s become everything I ever envisaged he would be, and more.
Everything about him, compared to how he was twelve years ago, is just… more.
More passionate, more confident, more thoughtful, more gentle and forceful all at the same time.
More generous.
He had so little back then, and yet he gave so much of himself. Now he has a fortune at his fingertips, and he works even harder to share as much of it as he can.
I was wrong. I made the wrong choice. I should’ve trusted him to understand. My shame was just that, mine. And I realize now, it wasn’t that I thought he would not be able to handle it, it’s because I didn’t think I could.
Me. It was me all along.
The revelation makes me almost cry out, and I choke back a sob.
I did this to myself.
I did this to the both of us.
And it stops today.
“Um. Hey,” I look up and Kaine is standing beside me.
“Yes?”
“He’s awake.”
Thirty-four
Her
I hang back, letting Jade help his mother in to see him first. As much as I want to run in there and tell him what I’ve realized, I know there will be time. We will have all the time in the world now.
They're only in there for a few minutes before they emerge, his mother sobbing as Kaine gently helps her to a seat. Jade gives me a small smile and hugs me for a second.
“He’s really weak, but he’s asking for you. I’m just warning you though, he doesn’t look great.”
His eyes are closed when I walk up to the side of the hospital bed. If I were here alone and looking for him, I would not recognize the person lying in front of me. His face is bruised, dark purple and swollen. A bandage loops around the circumference of his head, and I can see blood still caked on his scalp. It’s dry, burgundy red.
I wipe away the tears streaming down my face. He’s okay, I remind myself. The doctor said he would be okay.
I sniff, and the sound makes him open his eyes. Eye. One is swollen shut.
“Hey you,” I say softly, running my finger along the hem of his hospital gown.
“Hey,” he croaks.
“I hate to see what the other guy looks like,” I try to joke, and his mouth tightens into a split-second smile.
“Yeah, he’s a mess.”
“The doctor said you’re going to b-“
“I can’t do this anymore, Malynda,” he says, cutting me off.
I stop. I’m not sure I heard him right.
“What are you talking about, Xavier?”
He tries to turn his head to face me and winces.
“I mean, I can’t do this anymore. Live like this. Or, almost die like this. I have to stop. I have to stop chasing you. I have to let you go.”
His words crush the air from my body.
“Xavier, no. I’m sorry. I’ve… I’ve done this all wrong. From the beginning, I was wrong.”
“No, you didn’t know any other way. And I get that. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to protect you. And you’re right, I’m trying to make up for the past, but I’m just fucking up the future. It’s time for me to realize that what we had is over.”
