For the Love of Alex

by J. E. Hopkins

  Leah scowled. Regrettably, her mother would never change and this brief moment of letting down her guard was long gone. Francesca Rhodes, the upper-class cold bitch was back, but this time Leah would not get upset. At least she saw a hint of who her mother really was and understood why she opted for this unflattering personality. She was protecting herself the only way she knew how—attack and push people away so that no one would ever really see her.

  Her mother would never change, but at least there was hope they could learn to get along. “I’m due in early March and my weight is perfectly normal according to my doctor.”

  “You must admit that having an illegitimate child fathered by a drug addict is not a good move for you right now.”

  “Mother…” Leah growled. The woman was insufferable at times.

  “I didn’t mean that as an insult. It was just an observation. Next time I will keep my observations to myself.”

  “Good idea, Mom.” Hadn’t anyone taught her that if you couldn’t say something nice you shouldn’t say anything at all? Her mother lacked filters. She just spoke her mind, caring little about who she offended. At times it was admittedly amusing, but mostly it was just cruel. No wonder she didn’t have any real friends, but Leah knew her mother didn’t want any. She didn’t want anyone to know the real her.

  “Well, this baby gives you even more of a reason to fight for Alex. I may not have liked the boy for you, but anyone with eyes could see he adores you as much as you adore him. That kind of love is worth fighting for. It will bring you lots of pain, but it will bring more joy than you could imagine.”

  Her mother sounded so wistful for a moment. Leah wondered if her mother had ever dreamed of such a love. Her parents’ relationship always seemed so cool and distant. At times, they didn’t seem to even like each other. They just tolerated one another to maintain appearances. That was the most important thing to both of them.

  “Mom, you are starting to sound like a romantic.”

  Francesca scowled. “Oh please. You will ruin my reputation with such silly notions. Romance is for housewives who read silly novels about billionaire lovers who fall for the lowly maid or waitress and whisk them off into paradise where they live happily ever after. Like reality could ever be so kind.”

  For a person who seemed to hate the subject, she seemed to know much about it. “It’s escapism, Mom. Nothing wrong with putting your problems aside and fantasizing about something better.”

  “That’s the problem with most people. They look for the escape and never face reality. You would do well to learn that, Leah. There are no princes, no knights, no billionaire lovers. There are no heroes, no perfect lovers, no happily ever after in this life. The world’s full of deeply flawed human beings. The goal is to find one you can tolerate enough despite those flaws and build a secure and safe life with until death frees you from this life.”

  Leah would never make the mistake of referring to her mother as a romantic again. She was so deeply cynical and hopeless. The only thing she seemed to want out of life was security, and growing up the way she did never feeling secure, Leah could understand her mother’s desire for it—but love should have a role in her life as well. The two did not have to be and should not be mutually exclusive. Trying to convince her mother of that was pointless.

  “I have no romantic delusions about life and love, Mom. I have loved an addict my whole life. Believe me, I know how to deal with life’s imperfections.”

  “No doubt you do,” Francesca conceded. “Well, I must be going. I would like to see you more often, Leah. Maybe we can try to talk more. Your father would like to see you as well.”

  Leah doubted that, but she would keep those feelings to herself.

  Her mother continued, “Tristan could use a big sister to guide him. That boy is a migraine.”

  “That’s because you spoil him rotten.” Tristan was overindulged, and Leah suspected her parents spoiled him even more when she left.

  Francesca nodded. “I often wish he was more like you,” she said, and Leah nearly choked from surprise. She spent most of her life believing her mother resented her for who she was, and yet she wished Tristan were more like her? “But, alas, you can’t pick your children. So you make the best with what you get.”

  She would never win mother of the year, but Leah knew she would rather have her in her life than be without her. Her mother had a tough life, tougher than she appreciated until now. She was glad her mother finally opened up to her and allowed her some insight on what made Francesca Rhodes into the woman she became. A childhood of addiction and loss forced her to toughen up at a young age. The result was that she became so hard, so emotionally detached. Leah hoped one day she would soften enough and allow herself to embrace love at least from her children and grandchildren. A life this empty and hollow was not a life worth living. Francesca Rhodes deserved more than she allowed herself.

  Francesca made the first move by opening the door of communication and reaching out to Leah. Leah would keep that door open and work on having some kind of relationship with her mother. They might never be close and loving, but they could still be something worth fighting for. It would not be easy, as there was still so much hurt from the past, but Leah felt that hurt lessen after listening to her mother’s painful words.

  She wished for her mother’s sake that she would allow herself to embrace some type of happiness. By shutting her emotions to block out pain she also shielded herself from feeling anything good like love, like happiness.

  “Mom, I would like to see you, all of you, more often. Maybe we can do dinner.”

  “Christmas Eve dinner would be nice,” Francesca suggested. “We always have dinner and then attend church together. It has been too long since you’ve last joined us. It would be nice for you to be there as well this year. Let me know if you can come. I will arrange a place setting for you.”

  “It would be nice. I’ll see you then, Mom.”

  Francesca patted her on the shoulder and left. Two hugs in one day would probably give her a stroke, Leah mused.

  Regardless, for the first time in years, Leah felt hope that she could have a relationship with her family. It would never be warm and fuzzy, but at least it could be. She could use her family’s support, especially if Alex lost the war against heroin.

  She didn’t want to think about it, but after hearing about Uncle Eddie, it was a reality she could not deny. Alex may not be bipolar, but he did suffer from depression. He had since he was a teenager. He was on some medications but he stopped taking them. He never liked the way they made him feel. What if his depression on top of his addiction became too much for him? If heroin didn’t kill him, he might kill himself.

  No longer hungry, Leah decided to go to bed early.

  Chapter 8: Pay it Forward

  The Christmas season was in full swing. As Leah walked to her office, everywhere she turned there was some reminder of her favorite holiday—yet this year, there was no comfort in seeing all the decorations and or the happy children posing with Santa. For the first time, there would be no merry Christmas for her. She would likely be spending the holiday alone.

  She planned to go visit her parents on Christmas Eve, but that wouldn’t be the same as waking up on Christmas morning with Alex beside her. Last year, he woke her up at 5am completely naked except for the big red bow he had tied around his head and the foil wrapping paper he’d secured around his waist. She had spent all morning, afternoon, and night unwrapping him and enjoying Christmas in the arms of the man who was the best gift she could have ever received.

  This year would hold no such surprises. She hadn’t heard from Alex since she left him in the hospital. He hadn’t responded to her email. She knew the odds were unlikely that he would ever see it, but the part of her that had still hoped was now exhausted from more disappointment.

  One of these days she would learn to stop wishing for miracles and setting herself up for the inevitable letdown, but when it came to Alex, she couldn�
��t find the will to walk away or give up. She wanted to fight with him, fight for him, but she couldn’t make him fight for himself. Until he decided to fight, there would be nothing more she could do for him, but wait.

  Well, there was one thing she could do. That was focus on her baby girl. March was getting closer and closer and Dr. Lechter suspected that Leah would likely deliver a bit early. It was time for her to start preparing.

  She signed up for a local Lamaze class. Claire volunteered to be her coach, for which Leah appreciated the gesture, but she couldn’t quite imagine Claire in the delivery room. It might prove to be entertaining, listening to her friend bark out orders like she owned the place and then inevitably pass out at the slightest hint of blood. Claire was tough, but not when it came to needles and blood.

  Once Leah had talked Claire into donating blood with her at the college blood drive. The end result was Claire passed out in a bathroom stall with her pants at her ankles and her butt in the air for everyone to see. That sight ended up as a picture on Leah’s phone that she would occasionally threaten to post on her Facebook page. She would never do it, but she loved to bait Claire about it.

  There was no way Claire would last a minute in the delivery room. The devilish side of Leah would enjoy watching her friend try. She appreciated Claire’s willingness to be there for her. She didn’t have many options.

  Marcus would be inappropriate for so many reasons. The only other option was her mother, and even though the tension between them had eased some, Francesca Rhodes was not quite coach material. Leah couldn’t imagine how her mother managed to give birth. She was not the “get messy” type. She probably had a hair stylist and makeup artist waiting for her in the recovery room.

  Leah was hoping to give birth completely naturally. No drugs. Drugs had already taken too much of her life away. She refused to have her daughter born with drugs. She knew the epidural wasn’t the same as the drugs that had taken Alex from her, but for her any drugs were evil and she wanted her daughter to be born completely drug free.

  Leah reached the office just before 8:30. Work had become her salvation. Her last article about Alex had run for several weeks. Marcus had not wanted to replace the story, as it had attracted so much attention. This gave Leah extra time to work on her next piece, which would focus on codependency. A topic she learned much about during her counselor visits. This would be a first in a series of articles talking about being addicted to the addict. Leah had spent her entire life so caught up in Alex’s battle that she never learned how to live her own life, find her own interests, and discover her own wants and needs. All day, every day was about Alex. Now she was learning who she was independent of her love for him. Although she didn’t like everything she learned, she was happy to have her own identity.

  Leah stepped off the elevator and walked over to her cubicle. There was a note on her PC that Marcus wanted to see her immediately. She dropped her coat and purse and walked over to his office.

  She wondered what he could want first thing in the morning. He never left notes like that and she couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous about what he might say. Things had improved considerably, but in the back of her mind she always feared that he would grow tired of her problems and ask her to leave. And she really could not afford to lose this job.

  Marcus was in his office typing furiously on his laptop. She stood there in the doorway mustering up some courage. Before she could knock, he swirled around in his chair and motioned for her to have a seat.

  There was no humor in his eyes. He looked stern, serious, and even a little concerned. Leah’s legs trembled as she reached the chair and sat down.

  “How are you feeling, Leah?” he asked.

  Like I might be sick, she thought to herself. “Fine. You wanted to see me?” No point beating around the bush. If it was bad news, she wanted to get it over with right away. Rip off the Band-Aid.

  “Deverson emailed me an article that he wanted me to post on the site. It was a comment letter to your piece about Alex. He wanted it posted today but I felt you should read it before I shared it with everyone. If you don’t want me to post it, I will tell Deverson to screw himself. I won’t hurt you for him.”

  Leah was grateful for his support, but she would not let him risk his career for her. She opened the door to her life when she wrote her article about Alex. She couldn’t hide from that now. She would have to accept the comments, whether good or bad. There was no running from his anymore.

  “May I see the article?” She tried to sound confident and composed, even though she was crumbling on the inside.

  Marcus handed her the hard copy of the article. He stood up and walked out the office. “Take all the time you need, Leah,” he said before he left her alone in his office.

  Her hands were shaking. Somehow she knew the words in this letter would change everything for her. She wasn’t sure it would be good or bad, but she knew things would be different.

  She took a deep breath and then focused on the letter.

  For the Love of Leah

  I read your email. I read your article.

  I have been battling my addiction my whole life. All I’ve ever know was the temptation of drugs. My first memory is getting high and that feeling of complete and utter bliss as I first sampled heroin, the white powder. Even though there were times when heroin was not a daily presence in my life, I always craved it. I always missed it. I always yearned for that feeling. I had convinced myself that the only way I could feel pure joy was with the needle in my veins filling me with that liquid fire. I was too blind, too seduced by heroin to realize that the false happiness it provided was actually preventing me from feeling real happiness, real joy. I couldn’t accept that heroin was tearing me away from the one thing in my life that was real—you and your unwavering love for me.

  I thought heroin was my happiness, but it was you all along. You were the one who made me smile. You were the one who made me want to wake up in the morning. You made the nightmares go away. You gave me hope, you gave me faith, you gave me a chance, and I wasted all of your gifts. I threw them all away, choosing the white powder over your love, over my life.

  I know how much I’ve hurt you. I could see it in your eyes each day I came home wasted and lost. Rather than throwing me away, you would find me. You would find the real Alex in the haze of drugs and bring me back into reality with you. Yet I never stayed there for long. Heroin would call, and I would go running back like the coward I had become. I went back to the drugs, disappointing you, and breaking your heart all over again. For years we have lived in this endless cycle of love and pain. Love, the gift you would give, and pain, the thank you I gave you in return.

  With your generous heart, you will probably forgive me for all my sins, but I will never forgive myself for what I’ve done to you. What I have done to us. There is no way I can undo the years of hell you have endured all for loving me more than I deserved. I used to think setting you free of me was the best gift I could give you, but after reading your words and hearing your plea for me to fight, I know that death is not the answer.

  What I can do for you, what I can do for me, is fight. Fight for our love, fight for our family, fight for my life. I am fighting, Leah. No matter how long it takes, I won’t give up. You have never given up on me and I will never give up on us.

  I will not ask you to wait for me. I have no right, but I will ask you to keep believing in me because it is your faith in me that gives me the strength to endure.

  I promise you, for the love of Leah and for the love of our daughter, I will fight this disease and I will win this war. I will never again surrender to this white powder.

  Leah read the letter several times, her tears blurring the words. It took several attempts before she could fully appreciate Alex’s plea. It sounded like the old Alex before the drugs had taken over him. The Alex she feared was lost to her forever.

  She was so confused. Where had this come from? How did Grant Deverson get this letter? Wh
ere was Alex? She needed answers.

  She stood up on shaky legs. Immediately, Marcus was at her side. “I don’t understand this,” she cried.

  Marcus held her closely to him and she wept in his arms. He held her for several minutes as she tried to grapple with Alex’s words.

  She pulled away from Marcus. “I probably drenched you shirt,” she mused.

  “It’s okay. I’m like a human Kleenex, but don’t blow your nose on me. I only do tears.”

  Leah laughed. “Thank you.”

  “Like I said, Leah. I won’t publish this if you don’t want me to. I don’t care what Deverson says.”

  But Leah cared and she would not allow Marcus to get in trouble on her behalf. Besides, she wasn’t concerned about the letter being published. She was more curious about how Grant Deverson got his hands on it.

  “He can publish it for all I care, but where did this come from? I know it’s Alex, but how did Deverson get it?”

  “No clue. It was posted on the blog. It was sent to me directly from Deverson. The guy has his contacts, but I can’t imagine why he would have reached out to Alex or why Alex would reach out to him.”

  Leah didn’t know why either, but she would find out. Grant Deverson might be the only person who knew where to find Alex. His parents had not seen him in weeks. Rose finally admitted that when Leah called her the previous night. Alex had left their home after the botched intervention. They had not seen or heard from him since.

  “I’m going to see Deverson.”

  “Leah, wait.” Marcus clutched her arm. “You can’t just see Deverson. You have to get on his calendar. Generally, you have to be invited.”

  “This letter was his invite as far as I am concerned. I am going to his apartment.”