by Fields, MJ
“Does that mean, like, he’s a six out of ten?” I worriedly press my lips together. It’s not a date, but I also have no patience to see a guy who’s an asshole.
“It means that Vincent doesn’t do business with shady guys. I’m sure Alexander runs a clean operation. Anything more than that, I don’t know.”
An uncomfortable silence moves between us.
I clear my throat. “Okay. Well, I’ve got to get there. I’m just going to go and have fun. I don’t need to marry the guy. Slade might have gone through some stuff, but he was on drugs, and he is a liar. I can’t even believe you’re trying to discuss him with me after you saw what he did. Do you know I have discoloration on my back?” I look around the office floor, relieved that no one seems to be listening to my conversation.
“Don’t be mad at me for wanting to tell you,” she says in a rush. “You know I love you. I understand you’re still angry, and you have every right to be. Slade is in a bad spot, but he’s not a stranger. You guys had some amazing times. You know who he really is. I know you do.”
“I’m going out with Alexander, okay? Slade cannot be part of my thought process right now.” I grab my purse and strut out of the office.
“Just trust your heart. If you want a date with Alexander, go for it. I’m friends with Slade, but I’m friends with you, too. Best friends. I’m not the enemy.”
I exhale through my nose. “I’m sorry I got upset. I know you only want to help.”
“I get it. I really do. Go and enjoy your date. You deserve it.”
My heels click against the dark wooden floor. There is a lounge in the front of the restaurant, complete with a bar and low white couches, and then a separate dining room in the back.
The shiny wooden tables in the main restaurant are already out, large to accommodate big groups and smaller ones around the perimeter. There is also a long, rectangular table in the center of the space, which I assume is for communal dining. Raising my head, I count seven huge chandeliers hanging from the massive ceiling. Well, I’m impressed.
Suddenly, the lights dim.
“Hey.” I hear a masculine voice behind me, and I turn around, startled. “Sorry, I was playing with the lighting. Don’t want you thinking it’s tacky.” He laughs. In a trim navy suit and white shirt, unbuttoned at the top, he looks like casual elegance personified.
“I realize what I’m about to say might be too much information way too soon, but I just want to get it off my chest.” I bite my lip.
He nods, waiting for me to continue.
“There was someone else recently. And we didn’t date long, but he did a serious number on me. I’m not in the state of mind to get into anything real with anyone. Whatever this is between us, it’s capped at fun.”
He raises his dark eyebrows. “Lauren, you don’t even know me. Why not give us a chance? I’m not asking for love right now. Not yet. If fun is what you need, I can do that. For now.”
He gives me a sexy grin, and I know Alexander’s got the patience of a saint. He’s already invested a month into coaxing me to go out with him, and he’s accomplished it. My little speech didn’t seem to bring him down at all. If anything, he looks like a man ready for a challenge.
“Just a little time, okay. But it will be temporary. I’m older than you, if you haven’t noticed, and eventually, I want to find someone to settle down with. Once I’m back to myself, of course. So, right now, with us, it’s just fun.”
“Fun and temporary,” he repeats in all seriousness. “I get it.” There’s a sheen in his eye like he doesn’t actually believe what he’s saying. “Let me show you around.”
I nod.
We spend about thirty minutes walking through the restaurant. My body tightens with nerves anytime his hand grazes my back, but I do my best to stay relaxed.
“Did you notice the second entrance outside? That’ll be for the nightclub downstairs. But there’s also access via the restaurant, if you want to have dinner here before heading down.”
“Oh, I love that!” I exclaim, clapping my hands together. “Old ladies like me hate driving from spot to spot. I love the idea of one place for dinner, downstairs for dancing, and then back home.”
He chuckles. “That’s the plan.” Not bothering to respond to my old lady comment, he guides me out of the restaurant. “Ready for dinner?”
I roll my eyes. How presumptuous of him. I check my phone, and there are no missed calls. I click on e-mails next. Nothing but clothing flash sales on my personal account and correspondence from the lawyers on my work e-mail. If I were in a movie, I would hear from Slade right now. I hate him for what he did to me, but I hate him more for not calling me to explain. I need to move on, but instead, I’m stuck in this painful in-between. I still love him, and I despise myself for it. How can I love a man who treated me the way he did? I’m no better than the women from the Center. I’m sure Eve could give me some sort of closure, but I refuse to take it from anyone other than the offender. He shouldn’t have a get out of jail pass. If there’s something he wants me to know, he’s going to have to tell me himself.
“Sushi work for you? I know a place …” He smiles.
Swallowing hard, I tell Alexander, “Okay.”
Dinner is easy and fun. He makes me smile and laugh. He tells me about his crazy family in New York City and even mentions Mafia connections. It’s all said in jest, but something tells me there’s truth within his jokes. All in all, Alexander is the perfect gentleman. After we eat, he drives me back to my car.
“Next week?” he asks, holding my car door open for me.
I sit inside the leather driver’s seat and twist my hands together. Could I? Should I?
He interrupts my thoughts and says, “Don’t answer yet. I’ll call you.”
He is being patient, and it warms my heart.
Gratitude moves into my chest, but I simply nod. He shuts the car door, and I buckle up, turning on the ignition. Alexander is a great guy, and I’m doing nothing wrong. And yet, guilt sits heavily in my chest. Of course, it’s Slade. I miss him. Yes, Alexander is wonderful. But, no, he doesn’t give me that same excitement for life as Slade did. He doesn’t move me.
I pull out of the parking lot and grip the steering wheel, frustrated at myself for comparing.
After washing my face and slathering my skin with an anti-wrinkle serum, I put on a comfortable pair of plaid pajamas and turn on my laptop. Sitting upright on my bed, I skim through my e-mails. The name I see sitting in my inbox has my heart skidding to a stop. With a shaking hand, I click.
Slade McCormack
To: Lauren Amini
Subject: Hello
Lauren,
It’s been eight weeks since we’ve seen each other or spoken. There are so many things I wanted to tell you but couldn’t. The truth is, I shouldn’t be contacting you. Not yet. Not while my life is still in shambles.
When you’re done with this letter, you might think that I wrote it because I want your sympathy. It’s not the case. I realize that, after what I’ve done, I don’t deserve forgiveness or your friendship. I only want to share the truth because you ought to have it. We weren’t together long, but I swear it when I say, you mean something to me. More than anyone else ever has. I hurt you, physically and emotionally. And I am so sorry. Hopefully, after this letter, you will understand why I acted the way I did.
I left the SEAL Teams because I killed my best friend, Rex. It wasn’t my bullet, but I didn’t stop the one that shot him. My failure caused his death. After he died, I couldn’t go on. I wasn’t acting straight. Doing my job became impossible, and I retired before they could discharge me.
I came home to an empty house. Not only were my parents gone, but my brother had also recently died in combat in Iraq. After selling my family home, I got on the road. Stopping in New York City, I met Vincent at a boxing gym. We became friends, and he offered me the job at the Milestone to run security for him.
Thing
s were decent for a while after that. Until they weren’t. Flashbacks began to assault me for any reason or no reason at all. I brought a sweet girl to my place and had an incident in my sleep. She woke with my hand around her neck, choked out. She was physically fine afterward, but I wasn’t.
Pills to help me relax was where it all began. And then pills to help bring me up. Pills to settle my nerves when things got overly stressful in my head. Mixing them with liquor when needed.
When we shared a room in Vegas, I didn’t trust myself to be near you in the night. I slept on the floor after drinking a glass of vodka from the minibar and swallowing a few pills. I did the same when we shared a room near Lake Powell. I knew my nightmares could put you in danger, and instead of telling you or anyone else the truth, I self-medicated, taking medication I was never prescribed, all depending on my mood.
When my regular supplier no longer had what I needed, I went off to find harder stuff. I’m ashamed to admit it, but that night when I took you to the motorcycle club? I was scoring drugs from a guy named Lion. I know what you’re thinking, and the answer is, yes, it’s the same Lion. The president of the MC, ex-husband of Alicia who came into your Center. He hooked me up.
Memories from war were crippling me, and I felt that nothing but drugs could keep me afloat. I was already in too deep. If Vincent knew I had a problem, he’d fire me—which he did that night Hook opened. If you knew about my issue, I thought you’d run—which you did after I completely fucked up. I thought the drugs would balance me. But all they did was screw me up even worse. I deserved to lose you and my job.
After our huge fight in your hotel room, Vincent found me with a gun in my mouth. I was in the middle of the mountainside with nothing left to lose. He got me to a hospital, although I have to admit that I’m not sure how he got me there. I must have blocked it all out. Rock bottom is what they call it. But I call it get help or die.
After switching from psychiatrist to psychiatrist, I’ve finally found a doctor who seems to understand me.
Dr. Sullivan was a Marine, and that got my attention. Unlike these other doctors who were sitting in medical school, studying and living in freedom, while I was sacrificing my time and my life. Sully made the same sacrifices. He understands the world I lived in. The first time we met, it was like he knew exactly what I was going through. When he explained that, sometimes, there wasn’t even a trigger but that my emotions would go haywire with random bursts of irritability and anger, I was shocked. Not because he was wrong, but because he was right. He told me to go get an MRI, and for once, I actually listened. I’m waiting now on the results.
I hope you’re well. It’s hard for me to sleep, knowing what I put you through. Memories of war are hell, but losing you has been its own form of torture. I’m so sorry for what I did.
Sincerely,
Slade
I read the e-mail over again. And then again. I’ve replayed our ending a thousand times in my head. This past month, I’ve fantasized about him returning to me. His huge, heavy body on top of mine in the night. Tracing the bone frog tattoo on his damp chest, sweaty from sex. His lips groaning against mine. Slade saving me and … loving me. Sitting on the back of his bike when he takes me to the mountains. Cooking dinner. Laughing. I imagined all the things I wish we’d had time for, like watching a movie on his couch. More meals together.
Tears fill my eyes. Because I don’t think any of that will ever happen. I was furious at his disappearance, but it wasn’t his fault. He’s … sick.
Written in his own plain language is the truth. Slade is an addict who tried to kill himself. I’m in love with a man who’s broken. Beyond repair maybe.
My heart feels like it’s cracking in my chest, vibrating from the realization. I want to write back and tell him … tell him how I feel, too. Tell him that I’ll be there for him through it all. But I won’t because I can’t sacrifice myself for him. I’ve bled.
A healthy relationship can’t grow from disability. We had a beautiful week, but there was pain, too. And I can’t let us fall into the same pattern. Eve is right. Slade must get better on his own. I might lose him by not replying to this e-mail, but the alternative might be worse.
Shutting down my computer, I cuddle up under my soft covers and bring my legs to my chest in a fetal position. I won’t reply. I can’t. I want Slade but not at the expense of my life.
Three days later before bed, another e-mail shows up in my inbox.
Slade McCormack
To: Lauren Amini
Re: Hello
Hey Lauren,
I got the results of the MRI, and I wanted to share them with you. It turned out that, even while my brain is resting, I have spontaneous activity in my temporal lobes. This causes my temper to rage for no reason at all. My PTSD is severe, but Sully says it’s manageable. I’m on a good path.
Vincent and I also worked some things out. I’m taking a leave of absence while I sort out my personal shit, but my job at the Mile will be waiting for me.
For all the times I flew off the handle and lost control, I’m sorry. For the time I hurt you up against the wall during the opening of Hook, I’m sorry. For that same night, when we had sex on the floor and I was completely out of my mind, I’m so sorry. For pulling the gun on you, I’m so sorry. For the lies. For the deceit. For taking advantage of your kind and open heart.
Lauren, you never deserved it. Even though my temper was out of my own control, I still withheld what I was going through, which is the same as a lie. The medications I took made things worse. It was illegal and dangerous and wrong. And, regardless of all the excuses on earth, I realize that I acted in ways that were completely unacceptable. I’m a grown man who doesn’t shirk away from responsibilities or problems. That’s not who I am at my core. But it’s what I did.
Using a combination of medication and psychotherapy, Dr. Sullivan has me in a twelve-week course of treatment where I talk about my trauma. He also has me write in detail about my time overseas. I started off pretty generally, just jotting down notes about how I got into the SEAL Teams in the first place. But, slowly, I’ve been getting into the gritty parts. Turns out, opening up doesn’t make things worse, as I initially thought it would. It sets the pain free so that I don’t have to wallow in it alone.
He’s put me on some medication, but all of it is now under his control, not mine. I am putting my trust in him.
I hope you are well. You’re on my mind every minute of every day.
Slade McCormack
To: Lauren Amini
Subject: How are you?
Lauren,
You’re the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met. Have I ever told you that? Harming you was one of the worst things I’ve ever done. I know hearing from me might not be what you want, but I care about you too much to just walk away. I know you want a husband. You want a family. You want a life of your own filled with love. I want that for you, too. I don’t know when or if I’ll be better. Or if I’ll ever be in a position to be good enough for you. Or even if I got my shit together, if you’d ever forgive me for the pain I caused. I wish I could swear that I’d be healed completely one day, but to say that would be a lie.
You don’t reply to my e-mails. I know I don’t deserve your time. I want to beg though. Beg that you’ll give me a chance to get out of this.
I’ve been through war. I’ve come home, only to realize that hell isn’t always in a moment but can live in memories. But then I saw you at the hospital that night when Vincent was in a coma, and I was literally struck dumb by your beauty. It didn’t take long for me to know your level of stunning is so much more than skin deep. Lauren, if you only knew how just your presence fills me up inside.
I’m missing you.
Slade McCormack
To: Lauren Amini
Subject: Hi there
Lauren,
How is everything going? Are
you doing okay? Eve keeps me updated on you. She tells me you’re going for the master’s in social work. I’m so glad for you. You should never settle for anything less than you deserve. And you deserve to love your career.
Lauren, somehow, with you, I want to speak. With you, I want to open my guts and spill what’s in my heart. This is not how I normally operate. I have always kept things inside. Maybe it’s because you are so pure. There’s a strength within you that calls to me. I’ve always been tough. Tough in the face of hardship. I think maybe my hardness was also related to fear when it came to you. I feared rejection. I didn’t think you would ever love someone like me. Between my nightmares and drug abuse, I realized my worth was limited. I kept an iron curtain between my heart and yours. You should have a man without these hang-ups. You deserve more. Even if I learn to control these issues, Sully tells me they might never be gone completely. Still, I wish there were a way I could erase my problems. I want to be the type of man who deserves you. I’m going to try.
Slade McCormack
To: Lauren Amini
Subject: Hey there
Hi Lauren,
How are you? How is school? I’m getting a good handle on myself, and Sully is trying to get me to alter my thinking. Remember when we talked about mental strength and how important it is to keep your thoughts in line? I’m working on that. Lots of what happened is in the past, but I’m trying to change the way I see it in my rearview mirror.
I still can’t say it was an accident that Rex died because I should have seen the bullet coming. Protecting my brothers was my duty, and I failed. Sully wants to keep working on changing my mindset, but in this, I’m unchangeable. The best I can do is make peace with my errors. And that’s why I came out to Texas—to visit his parents.
