by Liz Durano
I smile as the memories come, one after another, of the man who helped get me back on track. So why the fuck couldn’t I do it right when it was my turn?
Another memory comes, of seeing Alma sitting on the chair next to the bed. Drew and Todd weren’t around. It was just her with a book in her hands, her brow furrowed in concentration. I figured she was probably studying one of her education textbooks again but for some reason, I needed to hear her voice.
What are you reading?
She looked up, surprised, before smiling, her cheeks reddening as if embarrassed. Poetry.
You love poetry?
She shook her head. I wouldn’t say love. But I like it. And not just any poetry, for that matter, more like, larger than life type of poetry. The type that I read if I want to feel brave.
You’re brave, Alma. You married a Marine.
She laughed. Not brave enough sometimes. But I try.
What poem is it? Do you mind reading it to me?
She frowned, hesitating at first. Then she pulled her chair closer and cleared her throat.
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole–
I thank whatever gods may be, I continued as she looked up, looking surprised. For my unconquerable soul.
She cleared her throat and this time she didn’t look at the book. This time I didn’t want to interrupt or impress her. I wanted to hear her voice.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried out aloud,
Under the bludgeoning of chance
My head is blood, but unbowed.
Alma stopped to look at me, as if waiting for permission to continue and I nodded.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll–
I am the master of my fate, I continued, my voice cracking as she lifted her gaze up to meet mine, I am the captain of my soul.
We didn’t talk for a few minutes, as if both of us were locked in some kind of meditation afterward until a nurse popped her head in to check on my leg and then left.
I’d never have pegged as a poetry man, Alma said.
I’m not, but we had to memorize a poem in eighth grade. My girlfriend chose Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe and I picked Invictus by William Ernest Henley. Guess I wanted to impress her.
Did it work?
I shook my head. I remember why I picked it and it had nothing to do with trying to impress her. It was so I could handle my mom’s drinking and bringing home guys who used her. She said it was too macho for her. Too angry.
I don’t think it’s a poem one would pick to impress someone, Alma said. It’s more a poem to spur you to do something noble, something that scares the crap out of you.
Like what? Joining the Marines the first chance I got?
Maybe, she said, the faint smile on her face telling me that there would have been more to her answer but she was being careful. If my body couldn’t knock the infection in my leg, I could lose it and it would be devastating. Anyway, why am I not surprised that you already had a girlfriend at eighth grade?
Blame it on a growth spurt, I replied and Alma giggled. It’s true. Suddenly my voice changed and I was a head taller than everyone else.
After a few moments laughing, we’re quiet again. Where’s Drew?
He and Todd are in the cafeteria, she said. I didn’t want to leave you alone so I told them I’d keep an eye on you.
You didn’t have to, but thanks, I mumbled. That means a lot to me.
I don’t know how long I sit staring at Drew’s headstone but by the time my left leg starts feeling numb, I get up and dust the grass from the seat of my jeans.
“I’m going to take care of her, man. I promise I’ll take care of her and Ty,” I mutter under my breath. “I wish you could have gotten to know your son, Drew, because he’s such a beautiful boy. I wish you’d stayed alive long enough to see him because maybe, you’d have changed your mind.”
My throat tightens, my mouth turning dry as the next thought comes. “But then if you did, I wouldn’t be here, would I? I wouldn’t be with her.”
17
Alma
The room is dark when I wake up with a start, the same dream with Drew’s face hovering over me fading away. For a moment, I forget where I am but as my hand touches Sawyer’s back, I remember. I touch the base of the bedside lamp and the light goes on. The hotel clock blinks 4 AM.
Beside me, Sawyer rolls onto his back, covering his eyes with his arm. “Everything okay?” His voice is thick with sleep. I nod, but he does’t look convinced. “You sure?”
Oh, Alma, what’s the point in lying and pretending that everything is okay? You spent a full year after Drew died doing this. You couldn’t allow yourself to be vulnerable to anyone, no matter how much they tried to help you until they stopped.
I sigh. “Actually, I’m not sure.” I shift onto my side facing him and trace his naked chest with my fingers, his muscles rippling beneath my touch. “I’m sorry about what happened today. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
Sawyer brings my hand to his lips, his beard tickling my skin. “You don’t have to apologize. I can only imagine how the meeting went.” He chuckles dryly. “I’d have punched something if it were me.”
I smile, knowing he’s right. “Then I’m glad you weren’t there.”
“I just wish you didn’t have to carry the burden alone, Alma. Whatever you need, I’m here if you need me.”
“I know, and I’m really grateful for all your help,” I whisper. “I hate that you had to leave work behind. You didn’t have to fly all the way here.”
“For you, I’d do anything.”
I peer at him, relieved to see a half smile on his face. “Anything?”
“Yes, anything.”
I scoot closer to him, feeling his arms wrap around me, enclosing me against his broad chest. I inhale his scent, taking in everything he represents—strength, safety… home.
“I miss you holding me,” I whisper as his arms tighten around me, pulling me closer. He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear.
“Promise me there won’t be any secrets between us, Al.”
I bite my lip but nod. “I promise.”
As Sawyer pulls me closer, I feel his warm breath against the top of my head, the soft brush of his lips and his fingers stroking my hair. I tilt my face up to look at him, his mouth descending on mine. He tastes of peppermint and ruggedness, of strength and promise. A future.
Suddenly I don’t want to talk anymore. I don’t want to think. I just want him to hold me, kiss me, and make love to me. I want to feel the roughness of his hands and the strength of his body, his hard edges meeting my softness, my vulnerability. I want to feel his love for me, a love that feels so complete that I run out of words to describe it.
“I love you, Sawyer,” I whisper and I hear his breath hitch. His kiss deepens as he pushes me back on the bed, cupping my breast through my night shirt, his thumb and index finger pinching my nipple. When his hand drifts lower between my legs, sliding my panties out of the way, I hear him growl against my mouth. I’m so wet for him.
“I love you, Al,” he whispers before his kisses continue down my jaw, my neck, my breasts. As Sawyer licks my nipple and slides it between his teeth, he inserts a finger inside me and I gasp. I moan and gasp, feeling my pleasure building, cresting like a wave and keeping me there. It’s all so primal, so possessive and it’s about to be my undoing.
I want him to help me forget what tomorrow will bring, not just the possibility that I’ll lose custody of Tyler but everyone who believed in Drew, once the truth comes out. I hate not having a choice beyond the one I have to pick out.
A future or a past. I can only choose one, but that will be f
or the morning. Right now, as Sawyer makes love to me, I’ll take whatever I can get.
Hours later, we arrive at the county courthouse two hours before the scheduled time and find Gordon waiting for us in the hallway. We’d requested a last-minute meeting with Frank and Doreen and they’d agreed. Gordon told me that they’re expecting me to acquiesce to their demands.
I can’t stop thinking about what Gordon said yesterday, about telling the court why I had to leave Drew. How will Frank and Doreen accept the truth that Drew had given me no choice?
There’s only one problem: they didn’t make a promise to Drew. They didn’t promise to keep that part of him behind closed doors.
I did.
I take a deep breath and remind myself to remain strong. I’ve allowed myself to be beaten down for the past year since Drew died and I can’t do that anymore. What message am I sending Tyler as he grows older when he sees I can’t stand up for myself? If I can’t do that, how on earth can I stand up for him?
“You look beautiful.” Sawyer squeezes my hand and smiles. “You’ll do great.”
“Thanks.”
I’d tried looking for a serious-looking outfit to wear, something that involved a jacket or pantsuit. Luckily, I found a full ensemble at a thrift store in Torrance yesterday, a dark blue skirt suit and matching close-toed pumps. I need to make a good impression to the court and show them that I am a good mother. Just because I live off the grid doesn’t make me irresponsible.
Sawyer is wearing a light blue open shirt collar under a tailored jacket with black trousers and comfortable shoes. It’s a far cry from the usual t-shirt and cargo pants he always wears in Taos but he looks good. I love how he carries himself, so self-assured.
As I excuse myself to talk to Gordon, Sawyer gives my hand a soft tug. “No secrets, remember?”
“You may not like what you’re about to hear.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m going to let you go into that meeting by yourself,” he says as Gordon clears his throat.
“I got your call and I have everything here,” he says as the elevator doors open and Frank and Doreen step out with their lawyer.
Sawyer squeezes my hand. “You’ll do great, Al.”
“Best to get the meeting started then.” Gordon pulls the conference room door open and Sawyer and I walk in.
“Are you here to negotiate?” Doreen asks the moment the doors close behind their lawyer. “All we really want is access to our grandson, which means you and Tyler need to move back to California.”
“None of this off-the-grid nonsense,” Frank scoffs. “What if you give up on Tyler like you gave up on our son? Who’s to know until it’s too late? Before we know it, it’ll end up in the front page news.”
“Mr. Thomas, please,” their lawyer says sternly before turning to face Gordon. “What is this meeting about? If there is anything you need to show us, it should have been–”
“Miss Thomas has something to say,” Gordon says, nodding his head toward me.
I clear my throat. “I know you have never forgiven me for Drew’s loss and I understand that. And I never wanted things to go this far.”
“Stop beating around the bush, Alma,” Frank says.
“I never gave up on your son, but I had to make a difficult choice. It was either staying with him and risk losing the baby as a result of one of his flashbacks or leaving him and saving Tyler and myself.”
“Excuse me, what?” Frank stammers.
“What are you talking about?” Doreen asks.
“I left Drew because he was abusing me,” I begin, willing myself to remain calm and hoping my voice doesn’t break. “After his last deployment and the end of his contract, Drew had a difficult time adjusting to life outside of the Marines. Most of all, he was having really bad flashbacks, most of them stemming from an event years earlier.” I pause to glance at Sawyer and see him frown, his brow furrowing. “It had to do with losing his men. Drew could never get past that, and even when he was getting help for it at the VA—therapy, medications—it just kept getting worse.”
“What do you mean by flashbacks?” Doreen demands. “What the hell are you talking about? He was fine.”
“No, he wasn’t. Drew was suffering from PTSD.”
“No, he wasn’t,” Doreen says. “Not Drew.”
“Yes, he was, Doreen, and he was going to the VA for treatment.” As I speak, Doreen and Frank stare at me in shock. I guess Kevin didn’t tell them either. “But Drew didn’t want anyone to know. Whenever he felt he’d run into men he knew, he wouldn’t follow through. It was a constant struggle to keep reminding him to go.”
Frank shakes his head in disbelief. “Drew would never lie to us. He never said anything was wrong with him after he left the Marines. He was a war hero.” He points at Sawyer. “Drew saved your life. You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for our son. No, my son did not suffer from PTSD.”
“Drew had flashbacks that left him acting violent and it worried him. That’s what prompted him to get help,” I continue. “I tried to stay with him for as long as I could but when he choked me one morning–”
“He what?!” Doreen exclaims. “I can’t believe you’re making things up, Alma. This is beyond ridiculous. My Drew would never do that.”
“The day he choked me, I knew I had to make a choice.” My voice is firm as I continue. “It was either I stay with him and risk losing the baby during one of his nightmares when he’d wake up and not recognize who I was, or leave him while also giving him a chance to get the help he needed. I was always in contact with him after I left. I rented a long-term hotel room a mile away and stopped by every day. I just couldn’t spend the night.” As I pause, Gordon hands their lawyer a thick folder. “That’s the hospital report the day after he choked me. I thought I could keep it quiet but after I started to have some spotting, I was afraid that something had happened to the baby. Luckily everything was fine, but the ER doctor noticed the bruises on my neck and my difficulty talking and swallowing.”
“Did you know about this?” Frank asks Sawyer.
“No, sir.”
Frank flips through the pages in the file folder, stopping to view the first picture of me standing in front of the camera, the bruises on my neck like a dark stain on my skin that no amount of makeup could hide. “Oh my god.”
“I knew that he was having flashbacks and that he was getting help for it, but I knew nothing about this,” Sawyer replies before turning to look at me, shock and hurt written all over his face.
“Did you… did you report this to the police?” Doreen asks. “How do we know you’re not making this up so we’ll drop the lawsuit?”
“The doctor did. He said he had to. Something about being a mandatory reporter for domestic or child abuse,” I reply. “But I told him to first send the hospital report to the VA. That way, they could address it as part of his therapy. The reports are all in the file.”
“Why didn’t you tell me, Al?” Sawyer asks.
“I tried,” I whisper before hearing Doreen gasp.
“Oh my god. It’s true then.” Doreen stares at the pictures, shock written all over her face. “I had no idea.”
“If you go ahead with the custody hearing, this will come up,” I say, clearing my throat. I hate that it sounds like a threat but it’s out of my hands. “That means this hospital report, along with the police report that’s also in the file, will have to go on the record.”
“Drew was distant toward the end,” Frank says, his voice cracking. “He was angrier, impatient especially around Kevin who just wanted to be with his older brother and have fun. I kept telling myself he was just adjusting to life outside of the Marines. I mean, he served for six years and I’m sure that must be a drastic change. He loved the Marines, but he just couldn’t see it as career anymore. Not after four combat deployments.”
“The holes in the walls, the broken furniture at the house. That was him?” Doreen asks and I sigh, nodding. “You mean it was happening the whole
time since you guys moved up here and you never said a thing?”
“He didn’t want anyone to know.” Even my answer sounds silly and weak. Looking back, I can’t believe how I managed to function every day until one day, I couldn’t keep fooling myself.
“Drew was always proud,” Doreen says almost to herself as she hands the report back to Frank. “He was never one to accept help from everyone. It’s a miracle he even got help from the VA. But the fact that he didn’t tell us…”
“He didn’t want anyone to worry about him, Doreen,” I say. “He was so used to taking care of everything that he thought he could take care of this on his own. He truly believed that. He was waiting to get into an inpatient therapy facility when he… he killed himself.”
Frank rakes his fingers through his gray hair angrily as he paces the floor. “I can’t believe this.”
“I’m so sorry.” I press my lips together, hating how everything Drew worked so hard to build—his legacy, most of all—is falling apart. But truth does that to lies and I can’t lie anymore. As much as I loved Drew, he wasn’t perfect and he wasn’t always the hero that he thought he was. Instead, he became the villain of his own story. He became the monsters he fought in his head.
“You could have lost the baby.” Doreen starts to cry, tears streaming down her face. “Oh, Frank, this is just terrible.” She turns around and buries her face in her husband’s chest.
Gordon says something to the other lawyer but I’m not listening. I should remember his name but I can’t remember anything beyond the promise I just broke. Somehow, it feels as if I’m no longer in the room. Instead, I’m back in the house Drew and I shared and he’s half-kneeling in front of me, his hand on my pregnant belly.
Promise me you won’t tell anyone, Al. I’m not the monster you think I am.
“Mr. Davis, my wife and I no longer wish to proceed with the custody hearing. We’re going to need a few days to process all this,” Frank tells his lawyer. “Do what you need to do but we’re not showing up at the hearing.”
