Redemption Lane

by Rachel Blaufeld

  Unable to get her out of my head, feeling fucking ridiculous for my whole silly and foolishly elaborate good-bye scene, and raging an internal war over whether to contact her or not, I was unrecognizable to myself.

  I basically asked the girl to visit me after pondering another trip back to that shitty weather. Unable to stop thinking about the sheer insanity of it all, and wondering what the hell was happening to me, I continued to punish myself with my brutal workout.

  “Hey, Lane! How are you?” I heard someone say from behind me, then felt a pat on my ass.

  Turning, I took in the redheaded beauty and said, “Hey, Christie, how’s your run?”

  Although I didn’t slow down, she lengthened her stride to pace me and kept up. “Better now that I caught you! Where you been?” she asked with a salacious smile, her words coming out winded and breathy.

  A few weeks ago, I would have gotten hard over the combination of her tone and her meaning, but not today.

  “Working, honey,” I said, barely needing to overexert myself with my own words.

  “Well, you look good,” she said, holding her line.

  “You too!” Nodding my chin toward the road, I said, “There’s my ride. Time for me to cool down. See you around, Christie.”

  With another grab of my ass, she was gone. “Hope so. ’Bye, Lane.”

  Needing to cool down, I slowed my pace. Without considering why, I moved my hand back to my ass, brushing off the memory of Christie’s unwanted touch. I pulled out my earbuds and hit the STOP button on my pacer watch while I caught my breath. Typically, I alternated running with yoga.

  Yoga, of course.

  Bess, my head screamed as loud as my muscles. Yoga only reminded me more of the woman I’d now officially met under false pretenses, yet still hadn’t been able to dislodge from my brain.

  Of course, for the last seven days, yoga wasn’t possible for me. There was no way I could slow my thoughts enough to relax into the poses, let alone wrap my head around what the whole damn class symbolized.

  Inner peace, of which I had none. Because of her.

  Well, maybe not just her. My shell was starting to crumble. I was alone. No parents or grandparents, just a brother who was a full-time babysitting gig. And a stable full of girls with names like Candie or Missy who wanted nothing more than to be seen with one of Florida’s most eligible bachelors.

  As I walked in circles with my hands on my hips, taking deep gulps of air while I came down from my runner’s high, I couldn’t help but glance at the Florida sun setting, its light reflecting off the water. But I couldn’t enjoy the sight.

  Why did I have to lie to Bess? I should have told her the truth. This wasn’t me; I wasn’t a liar. The lie was eating me alive, but I didn’t see any way out of it. All those years I’d duped girls for my brother made me despise lying, yet here I was doing it again. This was probably some kind of sick payback for playing the bait-and-switch routine for Jake, as well as everything else I did for him that I never wanted to do in the first fucking place.

  Stopping and stretching for a second, opening my quads, I contemplated if there was any way of righting this mess I’d made for myself.

  No.

  The WildFlower deal was done. My lawyers had just signed off this morning on the final paperwork. There was no longer the cover of checking into the inner workings of the resort; I had no reason to stay in touch. The only clients I ever kept an eye on were the ones in major cities, the ones I liked to visit—Vegas, Chicago in the summer, Los Angeles. Not the middle of freaking nowhere.

  My chance was gone.

  Kicking up sand, I made a beeline for my car and my life as I knew it.

  “Hey, Randi, how are you?” I asked into the phone stuck in the crook of my neck as I toweled off from my shower.

  “Hey, baby, I’m great. Just back from an assignment in the Bahamas, a swimsuit shoot. You?”

  Dry now, I paced my massive bathroom. “All good. Wish I’d been somewhere warm, but I just got back from the wet wilderness of Pennsylvania.”

  “Ooh, you poor baby,” Randi purred into the phone, and her voice affected me like nails dragged across a chalkboard. A shiver ran up my spine, and I had to lean on the counter.

  Staring at my despicable self in the mirror, I asked, “Want to grab some sushi?”

  “Sure! I’d love to. When?”

  “Now.” I didn’t want to leave myself room to change my mind. Randi was a smart choice for distraction. The control was always in my hands with her.

  “Oh, cool. I need a little time to freshen up. Do you want to pick me up or should I meet you?”

  Staring down at the black countertop, unable to watch my own actions anymore, I said, “I’ll grab you in an hour?”

  “Perfect. ’Bye, Lane. See you soon, hon.”

  I swiped my finger across END CALL without another word, sealing my evening’s fate.

  Bess

  Two months later

  It was a cold and brisk Sunday. Small snowflakes flitted through the air before sticking to the almost bare branches and settling to rest on Brooks’s block-shaped head as we took a walk down the hill.

  I bet it’s warm and sunny in Florida.

  Christmas was upon us! Yippee! The entire resort was fully decorated and in full-on happy-holidays mode, churning out cookies and hot chocolate, building a different gingerbread replica daily and touting the benefits of the eggnog facial for women and peppermint back scrub for men.

  I found myself feeling more alone than usual, taking solace in thirty or forty too many cookies, and avoiding May’s constant nagging about whether I’d heard from him.

  Why would I hear from Lane? He’d been a man doing his job, securing another million-dollar client for his company. He wasn’t a living, breathing human being interested in me.

  And why should he be? I was just a reformed druggie—although currently clean and sober—a waitress who survived by living each day in the same boring, compartmentalized way.

  But I wanted him to be. Something about the way Lane reached for my hand that night to greet me, or placed the gentle kiss above my fingers the next day, it felt familiar somehow¸ as if we’d done that before.

  It didn’t feel electric or like blazing fireworks, but more like milk and cookies after a long day at school. Comforting and homey, which was all a little hokey considering my mom wasn’t waiting with a snack when I got home from school.

  I grew up in a two-bedroom on the second floor of our apartment building. After my mom left, the neighbor watched me after school. When I got older, I let myself in to be greeted by my pet—a purple-ish beta fish—and made instant noodles for my dinner.

  So the idea that some man’s hand felt like home was absolutely ridiculous, and I shoved the whole concept to the back of my mind while I swept snow off my face and coat.

  It was only mid-afternoon and I was already miserable. I hated my days off with a passion. If I could, I’d work every day. The monotonous routine of work kept me sane, despite my solo existence. The dull routine of waiting tables clung to my soul, embedding a sense of security in its predictability and ordinariness, and left me with a false confidence that I actually had a life. Other than just me and my Lab. Waitressing gave me a concrete purpose, a task to perform, like taking a pet out to relieve himself.

  I stared down at the red leather leash in my hands. I didn’t even put it on my damn dog, but brought it with me on each and every walk since I received it two months ago in that ridiculous gift box—from him.

  It had been an informal large box from the hotel’s gift shop, a bunch of stuff picked out at the last minute, yet nothing was haphazard. Each item demonstrated that he’d heard every word I’d said the night before. In addition to the leash for my dog, there were cashmere gloves for cold mornings, a package of Pitt decals, and a lemon juicer, presumably for my lemon water.

  Not sure of what to make of the presents, I shoved any hope of Lane like-liking me to the back of my head and filed the
dinner as an odd but good memory.

  The thought of gifts brought me back to the present and the looming holidays. I was so desolate this year, I’d even considered a visit to my dad on Christmas Day, but then quickly signed myself up to work for double pay. Ernesto had invited me to join his family, and of course, there was May with her open invitation to join her anytime, any day, anywhere she went.

  But I would probably work a double and come home and eat by the fire with Brooks.

  My negative energy swirled around me like the weather settling in the area, an isolated numbness traveling my veins and old desires surfacing, trying to bubble to the top.

  Deciding it was time to do something about it, I pushed the temptations down as I trekked up the hill in my boots, then let my dog back in the house, changed my shoes, and jumped in my SUV.

  I pulled into the church parking lot and parked quickly, not hesitating to get out of my car. I hoofed it to the door that led to the basement, covering my mouth with my fleece scarf as I braced against the wind. As usual, the door slapped open faster and harder than I wanted, but I hadn’t been as much of a stranger since last time, so no one paid me any mind.

  I’d been coming to AA meetings twice a week or more since I fell back into the fold a couple of months back, after my dinner with Lane. My recent regular attendance was less about the temptation of watching Lane enjoy a beer during our meal, and more about what he symbolized.

  Living.

  Which was something I wasn’t really doing, and didn’t feel was mine to expect.

  Except AJ kept trying to make me think I should. It felt dirty to me—both the suggestion of living and AJ saying it. But I tossed it aside because what the hell did I know?

  Taking my seat, sandwiched between my sponsor and a relatively new girl who worked at the bank, I sat on my hands and looked at my feet. Conversations swirled around me and I listened, passively enjoying the camaraderie of the people who were closer to me than family. As I took it all in, it occurred to me that what these people were doing—the nodding, encouraging, smiling, being brave for someone else, and drinking coffee—all of it helped the mind and body thaw.

  But with the warmth came wants, desires, and deeply stashed dreams. No wonder I chose to spend my life in the middle of the mountains where the cold seeps through you at least eight months of the year.

  I fidgeted in my seat, twisting my ankles in my athletic shoes, squirming on top of my hands as they called the meeting to order. And that was when AJ nudged me.

  “Go, speak, share. It’ll be good for you,” he whispered in my ear.

  “Shh,” I hissed, but my body betrayed me and lifted me from my seat, then walked me toward the front.

  I stood at the front of the long room, my hands shoved into my pockets, swaying back and forth on my feet as I faced the audience and stared at my hands resting on top of the podium.

  “Hi, I’m Bess,” I said, my voice cracking, then continued a little louder. “And I’m a junkie. I liked—loved—it all. Alcohol, pills, the harder stuff.”

  Shit. I mumbled to myself, struggling to form the words needed.

  “Like I said, I’m Bess. Sorry for being rude. It’s been a while since I’ve spoken in front of a group. I’m an alcoholic and drug addict. I’ve been one since I was eighteen years old. Before that I dabbled in a little of everything, but it wasn’t until I went to college that I truly lost myself, and drugs and alcohol took over my life.”

  “Hi, Bess. Welcome,” the group chimed in as one.

  “Well, let’s see,” I said, shifting from foot to foot. “I grew up with my dad—just the two of us. My mom up and left when I was a little girl. I remember standing in the doorway of our second-story apartment and watching her walk down the steps, dragging her huge suitcase. She never even turned around. Not once. So, with her gone, my dad did the best he could, and he really did a good job until I went to high school. When I was still young, he would toss a ball to me or take me to his auto shop with him. But he didn’t know what to do with me when I started to become a woman. He had no clue what to say to me about boys or friendships. He’s just an average blue-collar mechanic. Yeah, he’s done well, owns his own shop, and I didn’t ever really want or need for anything, but someone to talk to. So, yeah, he could have done a little better in the talking department.”

  I took a deep breath. Still bouncing back and forth on my feet, I cracked my neck, refusing to look out to the crowd as I continued.

  “I was sort of a small-chested tomboy. I liked hanging at the Y, playing ball when I was younger, and back then the boys were my friends. Until the other girls developed, and I didn’t know what to make of my own development. The little I grew, I hid under hooded sweatshirts and jeans with holes in the knees. My appearance, my attitude . . . let’s just say, I never really learned how to navigate boys or a big circle of friends, and I ended up allowing boys to take advantage of me, which started a vicious cycle. I’d let the neighborhood kids use me, get incredibly sad, and repeat. I know—poor me. But that’s what happened, so I have to own it.”

  I took a deep breath, still staring at my hands as I continued. “College was different. There was so much freedom, and a chance to try on so many personalities, make new friends, and start a different life. Unfortunately, party girl felt best. There were so many pills and parties and joints and drinks. It became a way of life. When I was having fun, I couldn’t remember how lonely I’d always been, so I kept going until I was ‘having fun’ all the time.”

  Looking up for the briefest of moments, I saw that everyone in the crowd had their eyes trained on me. I lowered my gaze, unable to face them in this moment.

  “It was all fun until I collapsed. I had gone to a yoga class high and stoned, all hungover and dehydrated, and as soon as I turned upside down, I was done. That’s all I remember. Apparently, I passed out cold. The owner of the gym called an ambulance in time, and I made it to the hospital for them to pump my stomach and help me dry out. That was the easy part in comparison to what came after. And now.”

  Once again, lifting my eyes slowly, I checked in to see if I should continue. Scanning the faces in front of me, I was relieved to see that they were overwhelmingly open, their expressions merely curious and supportive. Finally steady on my own two feet, I felt goose bumps break out on my skin as I prepared to finish.

  “I had one really close friend back then, and I haven’t seen her since I left the hospital. It’s not like she didn’t try, but I refused to add her name to the list of people who were allowed to visit me in rehab. It was too painful to think about her seeing the non-fun version of myself, so I locked her out, and I’ve been alone ever since. The relationship with my dad never got better, his guilt making it even harder to try, and without a good friend who really knew me, it was just me against the world. Problem is, the thought of living life this way for the next few decades is starting to scare me, pushing me to want to be the ‘fun me’ all over again, and I can’t do that either. So I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. Alone.”

  I stepped down from the front to applause from the audience, receiving affirmations from the people I passed on the way back to my seat. One lady stopped me and grasped my hands, urging me to not regret the past, and told me she’d pray for me.

  AJ was waiting for me. “It looks like you could use a shoulder or a flannel shirt to cry into, Bess,” he said as we walked toward the door.

  “I just hate being a burden to anyone. I guess it’s been way too many years on my own,” I answered.

  “A cup of coffee is not a burden,” AJ said as he held the heavy door open with his broad shoulder for the two of us.

  “I know.” I looked away, swiping a stray tear from my cheek.

  “Come on, let’s go.” He nodded to the cars.

  “Poor Brooks is alone all week. Why don’t you come over and I’ll make coffee, okay?” I asked, knowing he would agree.

  AJ winked at me as he said, “I’ll follow you home, pretty girl,�
� and we jumped in our cars.

  Bess

  With the radio on and Brooks lounging by the fire AJ built in my fireplace, we drank coffee and talked. It wasn’t odd; at least, it didn’t feel that way. AJ had spent plenty of time over at my place in the early days of my being out on my own, holding my hand while I got my life in order, allowing me to go through all the stages of recovery, and the emotions that went with them.

  His sponsor did much of the same for him when he first left rehab. Lucky for AJ, he didn’t need his sponsor that often. At least, not anymore.

  Like I needed AJ now.

  He wasn’t that much older than me, but he was much wiser when it came to life. He hadn’t wasted time on college because he had been in the throes of using since high school. After cleaning up, he started a construction business and made a life for himself close to where his grandparents used to live, finding peace in a simpler life.

  Finished with my mug, the scent of coffee and campfire hanging in the air, I leaned my head back, letting it rest on the back of the sofa as I closed my eyes. I’d been crying about how lonely I was, questioning, “Is it always going to be this way?” when I felt AJ’s hot breath move closer. It smelled like coffee and mint with the faintest trace of tobacco.

  His mouth lit a path of heat along my collarbone, and the sleeve of his flannel shirt grazed my wrist as he brought his hand up to caress my cheek. This did feel odd. My sponsor, the gentle but demanding man in front of me, had never touched me other than enveloping me in friendly bear hugs. This was a gentler touch, his rough and calloused fingers sending a message in their soft path.

  I lifted my head slowly, opening my eyes and taking in his inviting ones before dropping my gaze. I focused on his light brown five o’clock shadow as he spoke.

  “It doesn’t have to be that way, Bess. You don’t have to be alone. You’re not alone. You have friends, and you have me.”