The Redemption

by S. L. Scott

  Turning back around, I say, “Dex—”

  “I never told you this before, but as much as I loved him…” He pauses and gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing twice in his throat.

  I cut him off this time. “Don’t say it, okay?”

  We stare into each other’s eyes, holding the moment a few seconds longer. Pulling his sunglasses back down over his eyes, he gives a small nod before sitting back and looking out over the yard. From his profile, I can see his mood shift through his expression. He stands suddenly, grabbing his glass and going inside.

  Following him in, I say, “I’m sorry. It just feels too personal—”

  Anger covers his words. “It is fucking personal. It’s personal to me. You go back and forth between square one and practically having sex with me in the hot tub the other night. Maybe I’m unclear as to what the fuck is going on between us, but I know how I feel. So I guess you need to figure your shit out and let me know so this doesn’t end up messier than it needs to be.”

  “Shit? It’s not shit, Dex. It’s my life. I don’t have to explain this to you. I owe you nothing.”

  When I turn to leave, he says to my backside, “Go ahead. Leave. It’s safer that way, much like wearing your underwear in a hot tub.”

  “You’re an ass, Dex.”

  His comeback is swift and tinged with arrogance. “A sexy one if I interpreted the way you stared at me the other night correctly.”

  I give my best pointed look. “You can interpret my stares however you like, but that doesn’t change the fact that I think there’s more truth to the tabloid tales than you like to admit.”

  “Really, Rochelle? We’re going there? Because how I see it, we can skirt the issue all we want but somehow we keep ending up…” He steps closer and I stay strong, unwavering as his hands grab my hips and our mouths are only separated by our height difference. In a whisper, he says, “Right. Back. Here.” His lips press against mine, and my eyelids close as my mouth meets his in the middle.

  “You’re right,” I say as my heels touch the ground again, my anger subsiding. Every time. Every time, he proves over and over how weak I am to him. I give in feeding his ego and say, “Fine. I like you.” I add a shrug to make it come off more casual, but he sees right through me.

  A huge, obnoxiously cocky grin appears. “What? Rochelle Floros, did you just say you like me? I think I just kissed the pissiness right out of you.”

  His teasing and the poke to my side makes me roll my eyes and smile. “Yeah, don’t hold it against me. I’m weak to a good kiss.”

  Swiveling my hips against his, he raises an eyebrow and says, “It won’t be your like for me that I hold against you. Trust me on that.”

  I swat his chest. “You are so bad.”

  Leaning down, he kisses my neck, then whispers in my ear, “Which is what you ‘like’ so much about me.”

  “Mama, I fell down.” Surprised by CJ, I turn just as he tugs the bottom of my shirt. “I need Band-aid.”

  Dex bends down and picks him up. “I got one, buddy.”

  “It hwerts,” CJ replies, then pouts his bottom lip out.

  Dex sets him on the counter and pulls out a first aid kit from the cabinet. “Show me the damage,” Dex says.

  I lean against the counter and watch, fascinated to see how this goes. CJ points to a small pinkish scrap on his left knee. There’s no blood, but Dex treats it like a medical emergency, all for show, for CJ. “Oh man, I think we’ll be able to save the leg, but we definitely need a Band-Aid on the situation. Let’s get you all fixed up.”

  And there goes my heart, melting for the sweetness of this man. First he cleans the boo-boo, then he puts antibiotic ointment on, topped with a big Band-aid. “Better?”

  “Mama kisses it. Makes it heal faster.”

  I smile hearing my youngest say that, but it works. Dex bends down and kisses the bandage. “You think you’ll be able to run like that?”

  CJ smiles and nods. Then he melts my heart by leaning forward and hugging Dex. I see the surprise on Dex’s face, but he takes my son and hugs him back, his expression one of appreciation. My heart blooms with emotion in the moment. CJ turns to me when they part and says, “Do we have time to play?”

  “Ten more minutes, then we need to go. Okay?”

  I watch as he runs off yelling to Neil how they scored ten more minutes.

  Dex asks, “Only ten?”

  “I need to get them to bed on time tonight. They start day camp tomorrow.”

  While cleaning up the medical mess, he asks, “What about you?”

  “I have two meetings tomorrow. Proposals for a tour next year. The events team wants to do something different.”

  He turns, his eyes narrowed with irritation. “Next year? We don’t even know if we’ll tour next year. Damn, we leave to finish this tour off in two days.”

  “Tours take a lot of time to plan. It’s good to hear the ideas. Doesn’t mean the band is doing it.”

  With a heavy sigh, he puts the kit away, then looks at me. “So I’m leaving. Eight shows left.”

  The topic of him leaving is not one I like to think about right now, but I try to convince myself otherwise. “Only eight shows. It’ll be okay.”

  “You’re better at this than I am.”

  “I’ve had more practice.”

  “I’ve had none.”

  “None?” I ask. “You’ve never left a girlfriend before? That can’t be right.”

  Walking around me he stops in front of the back door. “I’ve never cared about anyone enough when I left to tour.”

  “So what you’re saying is that you like me too.”

  He chuckles. “Yes, I like you, as if that wasn’t already clear.”

  The next day everything changed. It’s strange and kind of amazing how that happens. You think you’re finally figuring things out, but you’re not and stuff gets twisted… and tainted. No matter how you fight against the inevitable, fate finds you just to make sure you never forget the pain of the past.

  It all started off with a knock on the door just as I was about to load the boys into the car to take them to camp. Janice stood there, a frown on her face. Tears in her eyes.

  “Janice,” the name rushes from my mouth. “What’s wrong?”

  Her eyes settle on the kids behind me. “I forgot about camp. Can we talk when you get back?”

  “Yes. Yes. I won’t be long.” I call the boys to come with me as Janice hugs them each before we leave. “I’ll be right back.”

  The day camp is just down the street from my neighborhood, so it doesn’t take long to get there, but my thoughts are consumed with worry. I’ve not seen Janice so distraught since… since her son died. I gulp, the lump in my throat heavy with fear. The fear is something I try to swallow down in front of the boys. I don’t want to scare them.

  After checking them in and making sure they’re all set, I head back home. When I open the door, Janice is pacing the living room. She looks up, and the devastation I saw earlier has morphed into anger. “How could you do it? How could you disrespect my son like this? Hurt your children?”

  “What?” I ask, taken aback as the door closes behind me. “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s on the internet.”

  “What is?”

  Another knock disrupts and I look at her like she might know who it is. Janice crosses her arms over her chest, and turns her back to me. The knocks turn to pounding and I rush to answer the door. It can only be someone who has my code, so I don’t expect to be surprised again, but I am when I open it. “Dex? Hi.”

  “Hi,” he replies looking uneasy.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Janice’s voice carries over my head. “You chose him, a drug-addict over my son!”

  “What?” Shocked by her statement, I turn back to her. “I don’t understand—”

  Dex says, “Rochelle, she knows about us.”

  Glancing back to him, I ask, “What does she know?”
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  Janice screams. “I saw the pictures online. Do you know how humiliated and hurt I am by what you’ve done?”

  I’m shaking my head, my hands starting to follow suit. My breathing quickens, shallowing when all I want is to take a deep one.

  Dex steps forward. “Janice, I know you don’t like me, but my feelings for Rochelle are genuine.” He enters my house with his hands up in surrender.

  She continues to shout, the anguish she’s feeling heard. “I don’t care about your feelings. I care about my son!”

  Dex still approaches her slowly. “I loved Cory like a brother—”

  “Don’t you dare insert your despicable self into my family like that when you have done nothing but cause the band trouble! Cory was always there cleaning up your mess of a life and this is how you repay him?”

  Her anger and Cory being dragged into this stabs my heart. My thoughts start to twist, so I reach for the nearest wall for balance. With my palm flat against the sheetrock, I close my eyes, but hear Dex say, “I’m not the same person I was before, Janice. You only know what you read and that’s not the truth anymore. Believe me. Our kiss was innocent, but sincere.”

  My world is spinning—guilt, anger, sympathy, Dex, Cory, Janice, the kids as she yells, “I saw the posts with you and Rochelle kissing in public like it doesn’t matter, like you don’t care about anyone but yourselves or how this would make me or the boys feel. So much damage was done with your ‘innocent’ kiss.”

  I collapse to my knees on the cold tile, my hands falling forward as my mind begins to blur.

  A steady beat infiltrates my dreams. I fight the awareness that brings me from the darkness to a more lucid state, the sound louder. Beep. Beep. Beep.

  My eyelids flutter open at the sound of the machine next to me. The soft light above feels too bright until my eyes slowly adjust. Janice is there, her hand on mine. “Rochelle. Dear.”

  The last moments before I blacked out come rushing back to me. The beeping picks up as my heart does. “Dex.” I cough to clear my throat. “Where is he?”

  Her hand leaves mine. “Rochelle, you shouldn’t be thinking of him. There are photographers outside the hospital, waiting for you to comment on this ‘story.’ It’s time to end this crazy behavior. You need to think of your children.”

  “What story?” I start to sit up.

  “That’s why I came over this morning. There are pictures of you and Dex kissing outside a hotel.”

  “No.”

  “Yes, there are. And do you know how much that hurt to see? My son has not been gone that long and here you are gallivanting around LA at seedy motels like he never existed.” A tear falls down her cheek.

  My body aches, but my mind is stronger. “Janice, I can’t believe you think that. You know I loved Cory.”

  “Loved? Past tense? Well, I still love him, present tense, and always will.”

  My hand goes to my head as it starts to throb. “You’re twisting my words.”

  She steps back, appalled. “Your actions are twisting your reality. You have small children to raise. If you prefer to sleep with a drug-addict playboy, then do so, but I won’t sit by and let my grandchildren bear witness to it.” She walks out, her heels clicking loudly down the corridor.

  There’s a pang in my chest, the pain of her words hit me hard. Maybe she’s right. I’m being selfish right now. What am I doing? Choosing to do what I want seems in complete opposite of what I should do for the boys, or does it? Has Dex changed? I mean really changed?

  A nurse walks in and asks, “Ms. Floros, I’m Anne. Do you know why you’re here?”

  “I’m thinking I had a panic attack, but this one felt more like a heart-attack.”

  She leans against the foot of the bed. “I see you’ve taken medicine for them before. The doctor has already called in a new prescription for you.” With her clipboard down at her side, she asks, “Do you know what might have brought this one on? It was severe enough for your loved ones to bring you to the hospital.”

  “People were fighting…”

  With a small nod of understanding, she asks, “Are there ways to eliminate some of that stress?”

  I gulp, then reach for the water pitcher. She comes around and pours a glass for me. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’m not sure. I guess I didn’t realize… I’ll give it some thought.”

  “Take this seriously, Ms. Floros, and consider ways to reduce stress and conflicts. Those are some common triggers for panic attacks. Make sure to eat healthy and to exercise regularly.” She removes the IV. “Exercise can help reduce the toll that emotional stress can cause. I don’t want to see you back in here again.”

  “Does that mean I’m free to go?”

  Swabbing the area, she covers it with a small white bandage. “You are. You just need to sign a few forms at the desk first. Your ride is waiting for you at the nurse’s station.”

  Wondering who’s waiting for me, I look up and ask, “Who’s my ride?”

  She looks down at her clipboard. “Dex Caggiano.”

  It’s LA, so the hospital has a private back drive for these types of media situations. I’m thankful for that. We sneak out that way. The dark tinting of his black Bronco keeps the paps on the street from getting any photos worth using when we pass.

  We don’t speak until the coast seems clear, then begin to relax though an awkwardness stretches between us that’s never existed before. Pushing through, thinking about what the nurse said, I start, “Dex, we should talk before we get to my house.”

  “Yeah,” he replies, sounding resolved. “You might have more paps there, so I shouldn’t stay.”

  “I mean, we need to talk about today, the panic attack. Janice. This. Us.”

  His hesitation is heard when he replies, “Okay.”

  “I can’t hurt her like that. She’s been there for me since Cory’s death. I was there for her. It wasn’t easy, but she was the only one who seemed to truly get how I felt. She’s wonderful to my kids and loves them. I’ve never seen her like she was this morning. She was distraught and I did that to her. I hurt her like that by betraying her.”

  “You didn’t betray her by kissing me. She wants you to keep playing the role you’ve played for years—the widow, but you’re more than that, Rochelle. You’re a woman, a mother, a musician, a business manager. You are more than a one-dimensional person. She needs to recognize that. It’s not just about her.”

  “I need to focus on my kids, Dex. They don’t have a father. I have to be both mom and dad for them, and lately, I feel like I’m failing.”

  “Us dating—”

  “I hadn’t had a panic attack in years and now I’ve basically had two in the last two days. Both times were with you. Do you find that coincidental? Because I don’t.”

  He pulls over to the side of a street that leads to mine. “You’re building this up in your head like you being happy goes against feeling bad that Cory died. They aren’t related.”

  “Janice—”

  “Janice is turning what we shared into something bad. You’re letting her into your head.” He takes my hand, holding it as if it might be the last time—firm grip, thumb trying to soothe.

  I pull my hand away slowly, leaving all the feelings we were developing behind in the palm of his hand. “The timing is wrong.”

  “Bullshit!”

  Startled, I jump in my seat.

  Lowering his voice, he says, “That’s a cop out. I know you feel something for me. I see how you react because I also feel it when I’m around you. There’s something here and you’re just scared.”

  “Scared of what?”

  “Scared to have a life without Cory and thinking you have to justify it to others. The problem with that is when you start justifying it, it will make you feel like your love for Cory was less. It wasn’t. It’s just different. He’s not here, Rochelle.”

  “Stop it. Stop talking about Cory and take me home.”

  “Now you want to stop talking about him?”
He looks surprised. “I can’t win with you when it comes to him.” He shifts the car into drive.

  “This is not a competition, Dex.”

  Disappointment slides onto his face. “Then why is he being shoved in my face every time we make a move?”

  “This is one of the reasons why we won’t work. We see things very differently.”

  “One of the reasons? Name another because from where I sit, we fit like two puzzle pieces clicking together.”

  “You’re a supposed recovering addict. You have sex with anyone who offers. You—”

  “That’s it. Right there. You play like you know who I am, but you don’t. That’s why the lies are so easily believed. I can tell what you’re doing. You’re giving me an out that I don’t want. You’re allowing yourself to believe the worst about me to ease your conscience, but it won’t—”

  “You know what. Not everything is about you and your past. You lost a band mate and friend, but I lost my soulmate!”

  My breath chokes in my throat after I say the one thing that would hurt him most. His eyes die inside as he stares at me. As usual, I’m the one who needs to make him feel better about everything. But I can’t this time. I’m too tired to help anyone else right now. “I was the one left in the wake of this tragedy to pick up the pieces for everyone around me, and pretend that everything is all right so they can go about their days not worrying about me.” I shift in my seat, taking a breath, then hit my hands against my thighs as I yell, “Everything is not all right! I am not all right!”

  I see the street in front of my house is clear. Thank God! But right when Dex pulls up in front of the locked gate, a car parks right in front of us with a long lens aimed in our direction, so I react by ducking down. “Oh my God! That’s exactly why we can’t do this. They don’t want me. They just want your latest conquest. Well, guess what? That’s one role I don’t want to play. I have to think about two little boys and protect their future.”