by V. T. Do
The Mess You Left Behind
V.T. Do
Published by v.t. do, 2020.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
THE MESS YOU LEFT BEHIND
First edition.
Copyright © 2020 V.T. Do
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Prologue
Chapter One: Redemption
Chapter Two: The Beginning of Me
Chapter Three: Detonation of a Bomb
Chapter Four: You Know Me
Chapter Five: Haunted
Chapter Six: Pity Date
Chapter Seven: Ruined
Chapter Eight: A Unicorn
Chapter Nine: Something New
Chapter Ten: Heights
Chapter Eleven: I Can’t Keep You Safe
Chapter Twelve: Trickery
Chapter Thirteen: But I Want To
Chapter Fourteen: I Want You
Chapter Fifteen: First Time
Chapter Sixteen: Let Me Show You How Gentle I Can Be
Chapter Seventeen: Distance
Chapter Eighteen: Let the Cat and Mouse Games Begin
Chapter Nineteen: Beyond Reason
Chapter Twenty: Take a Chance on Me
Chapter Twenty-One: Worth the Risk
Chapter Twenty-Two: Bliss
Chapter Twenty-Three: Family Troubles
Chapter Twenty-Four: A Beautiful Contradiction
Chapter Twenty-Five: Emery’s Adventures
Chapter Twenty-Six: Wyatt’s Secrets
Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Legacy You Left Me
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Things in a Box
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Point of No Return
Chapter Thirty: The Truth about Our Heritage
Chapter Thirty-One: I Didn’t Fall in Love with You
Chapter Thirty-Two: How Silent We Break
Chapter Thirty-Three: If You Love Me, Let Me Go
Chapter Thirty-Four: The Mess You Left Behind
Chapter Thirty-Five: This Is All You’ve Left Me
Chapter Thirty-Six: Home
Epilogue: First Sight
Prologue
He took a step toward me. I didn’t move back, even when everything in me told me to. Told me I would regret it if I didn’t end this. End us.
The consequences were something I couldn’t handle. He didn’t know. But I did. So I would be to blame for whatever happened between us.
“I need you to leave me alone,” I whispered. “If you love me, then let me go.”
“I can’t do that.” He took another step closer to me. And another. “I am incapable of leaving you alone,” he whispered. And then he kissed me.
He kissed me with the sort of hesitancy and excitement of a first kiss, and the exploration and intimacy of many kisses after.
Time stopped, and nothing existed but his lips on mine and my heart breaking in two.
I pushed him away, and only when I tried a third time did he relent. The tears came then, and they wouldn’t stop. I wiped the imprint of his lips on mine with the sleeve of my shirt. “I hate you,” I lied again, and for the first time, I saw his mask slip as he showed some sign of emotion.
It was brief, but it was there, and it was enough to make me truly hate myself in that moment.
I wished I had never been born.
Chapter One: Redemption
Joseph Caldwell
The apartment was small and cramped. Joseph couldn’t see his way through the dark room, and any attempt to open the curtains to let in sunlight was futile, since there was too much trash in the way.
He led the two gentlemen behind him into the smallest room of the apartment. A small bundle laid on top of the twin bed, huddled beneath the blanket despite the June heat. His heart twisted at the sight. The two men behind him shared a look.
“Emery,” Joseph said softly, so as not to scare the girl.
She wiggled a little before her head peeked out, her big green eyes standing out against the paleness of her skin.
“Grandpa?”
“Come here, sweetheart.”
She didn’t wait for him to ask her twice. Pushing the blanket away, she climbed down from the bed and ran to him as fast as her little feet would allow. And when he finally had his arms around his granddaughter, Joseph’s heart broke in two as she burst into tears.
“It’s okay, Emery. Where’s your dad?”
“I don’t know. He left yesterday.”
Closing his eyes so she couldn’t see the pain in them, he picked her up. She was light. Too light to be six, almost seven. Too light and much too fragile by his estimation. He feared her father might have ruined her.
Was he too late?
He was to blame... for everything.
And he should have taken her away when he found out his son was using again. It didn’t matter that he had tried to convince himself the girl needed her father. That was never the case. What she needed was a secure and stable environment to grow up in. It was his second chance in life. Perhaps even at redemption. To do right by the little girl who had his eyes.
His arms tightened around her, and she buried her face in his neck.
“You ready to go home?” he asked softly.
“Home with you?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yes. Home with me. Forever.”
She nodded vehemently. Her father had neglected her. She didn’t have many things. The room—her room—was more cluttered with trash than with her clothes and toys together.
She clutched her tiny arms around his neck, and the bear she had been holding fell to the dirty carpet. He didn’t pick it up, and Emery didn’t seem to notice. The toy was achingly familiar to him. It was time to leave it behind. Leave it in her past—and in his past—where it belonged.
It was with heavy hearts that both grandpa and granddaughter walked out of the apartment, never to return. Nine years later, the girl’s father died of an overdose, never having truly known his daughter.
Chapter Two: The Beginning of Me
Emery
I grew up believing in fairy tales.
Not because my father had made me his little princess and cherished me. Truth be told, I never knew the man. The memories I had of him in my early years were vague. I remembered the crappy apartment we lived in. The food was scarce, and I often went without. I remembered being picked on by the kids at school because I only had two outfits, and a father who didn’t care whether or not those measly clothes were washed.
It was just as well, considering I had missed more school days than I attended.
I remembered it all. All those crappy memories, holding me to the man who created me. A virtual stranger. It was weird how I could never remember him specifically. If it wasn’t for the pictures, I wouldn’t even know what he looked like.
I grew up believing in fairy tales, not because I had Isaac Caldwell as a father, but because I had Joseph Henry Caldwell as a grandpa.
He was the best grandpa in the whole wide world. He was sweet and caring. He spent a good chunk of my life looking after me, and I never saw a hint of resentment in those kind green eyes of his.
And his laugh.
God, his laugh. I missed his laugh the most.
He had only been gone five months, and I swore I still heard the echoes of his laugh in this way too big house I lived in with my great-aunt.
The laughter I heard were the ones in my fondest memories. I would walk into the kitchen, catch a whiff of something familiar, and I’d remember his laugh so clearly, it was as if he had never gon
e. That he was still here, alive, with me.
He was my hero.
I took one last look in the bathroom mirror and let out a soft sigh. I had big green eyes that I shared with my grandpa and my father. It was the former that I tended to think about when I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I was glad I had this one reminder to tie me to him, especially on my worst days when I missed him the most.
The rest of my features were average, and if not for my last name, I would have been overlooked. With long hair that went down mid-back, a slender build, and pale skin, there was nothing about the way I looked that would have made me stand out. Nothing, saved for the natural light brown hair I dyed red for the past two years.
“You can do this,” I whispered to my reflection. “You can get through the day.”
I walked down the stairs of the big house and could hear the clattering noise the staff made as they cooked breakfast. Aunt Helen, as expected, would be seated at the dining room table, waiting for me to have breakfast with her.
Despite having recently celebrated her fifty-sixth birthday, Aunt Helen was one of the fittest people I knew. Most certainly healthier than I was.
She grew up with money, and it showed, in the way she talked, the way she walked, and even in those unbreakable habits of hers. One of which included waking up at the crack of dawn every morning, then waiting for me before eating breakfast.
I liked my sleep. If I didn’t have to, I preferred to sleep in until eight. I loved my lazy days best—a downside to having grown up with a trust fund. I didn’t need to work. I had more money than I would ever spend, and that encouraged my laziness. Aside from school, my life was pretty unoriginal and unexciting.
I supposed there was a charm to this kind of life, even if it felt like I was still missing something.
I heard her coffee cup being gently set down on the wooden table before I saw her. My great-aunt Helen was my grandpa’s sister-in-law. She was twenty years younger than her late husband, and she was the only living relative I had left, even if we didn’t share the same genes. She was family. I could include my mom as my family as well, only her identity remained a mystery to me, even to this day. My dad never told anyone where or who I had come from.
It didn’t matter, I supposed. For all I knew, she could have died from some heritable disease, and I would only find out about it when I reached a certain age, by which point the disease would have progressed so far that no medical intervention could save my life. And all that would be left of the woman who gave me half her genes was a disease no one could fight.
But that was just my overactive imagination talking. Chances were, she and my dad had a one-night stand and she didn’t want me.
My dad didn’t either, all things considered. He had me when he was twenty-six, and though that wasn’t young by any standards, I didn’t think he was ready to be a father yet. If there was a time in his life when he could have been a good father, I never knew. He was too messed up with drugs to deal with his daughter by himself.
And then my grandpa brought me home, and I’d lived with him and my aunt since. They were my only family, and even though we were a small family, we were happy. That was more than anyone could ask for.
Aunt Helen came into view as I walked over the threshold of the dining room, and I took a seat across from her. Even after all this time, she refused to take the seat at the head of the table, the seat my grandpa had once occupied.
“Morning,” I greeted cheerfully.
“Emery, it’s nine. It was a good morning three hours ago. And now it’s just morning.”
I shot her a smile, grabbing some of the waffles that had been set out already. “It’s still a good morning, right?”
She nodded, a hint of a smile gracing her lips. She was raised in a different world than the one I was raised in. She was raised to never show any emotions because they weakened you. Even if I did consider us to be close, she still abided by the rules that were set upon her. I no longer felt the need to change her, so we lived our lives in relative peace.
My Aunt Helen was a beautiful woman. With long light-brown hair and the most distinguished blue eyes, she was the kind of beautiful songs were written about. The inspiration most men chased and never fully attained. Her skin was pale, and her figure was similar to my own, slender and small. However, when she did smile, it took up her whole face and you realized there was nothing understated about the woman, despite her slight stature.
She had very few wrinkles, and if I didn’t know her true age, I would have guessed she was much, much younger.
“What are your plans today?” I asked her.
“I am spending the day with the ladies,” she answered amicably. “We are looking into this new charity. A program to help more children become avid readers.” I could never tell if she was excited to be hanging out with her friends. Her charities seemed to be the only thing she lived for.
I waited for her to ask me about my plans, and smiled almost instantly at the thought. “I will be in school today,” I told her, as if she had asked. She didn’t say anything, but she turned her attention to me and tilted her head slightly to the side, as if to show interest. I continued, “I probably won’t be home until early evening, okay? But if I’m not in time for dinner, you should start without me.”
She gave a small nod. I finished my breakfast and stood up, walking over and offering a small kiss on her temple. “Have a good day, Aunt Helen.”
“You too, child.” She patted the hand I had set on her shoulder, before letting go. I stopped briefly by the staircase, where my backpack laid at the foot of it, then I walked out of the house and drove to school.
***
I went to one of the best universities in the country. Columbia University was presented to me like a dream, with its historical structures, backdrop of beautiful New York skyscrapers, and the ultimate image of Wall Street. And I did not get in because I was a good student.
Perhaps I did have the grades and the SAT score to get in. Perhaps my application was even impressive enough to woo the administrative committee. But it didn’t matter, because one thing was for certain—my last name was what got me in.
Life had been handed to me on a silver platter. I was not unaware of this fact. I knew my privileges were something most couldn’t even dream about. My life was easy. And I was beginning to question the purpose of it all.
I wondered if this was all my life would ever amount to. To have the doors opened for me, to have more money than I could ever spend, and to spend it in the redundancy and boredom of everyday life.
I pulled my white Mercedes-Benz into the parking garage, and parked in one of the three available spots left. Even if I was early, the school was already filled with students. It was one of those rare days that I’d actually driven into the city to get to school, but I was already running late to meet my study group before class started and we were scheduled to take our exam.
A boy pulled up next to me and got out at the same time I did. He looked over at my car, and it was hard not to notice the differences. Whereas mine was in pristine condition—and cost more than what most people made in a year—his was older than he was. He eyed my car with admiration, and I walked away, pretending I didn’t notice the looks he shot at both the car and me.
Despite my best efforts to blend in, I never quite succeeded. Unlike those who grew up in the same social circle I did, I did not flaunt my wealth. It was not something I could ever see myself getting used to. It made those events Aunt Helen set up for me even more uncomfortable.
I quickly paid the ridiculous parking fee and made my way across campus to where my study group was meeting. It took less than ten minutes, but by the time I made it to the café, I was out of breath and shaking so bad from the cold that I was surprised I hadn’t passed out from the whole ordeal.
A group of six sat at one of the big tables, and only one of them was familiar to me.
I waved to the group and walked over to the counter to order a
large cup of coffee—black, just the way I preferred it. When my order came out minutes later, I walked over to the group and took a seat next to my best friend, Joey.
She smiled at me, lightly bumping my shoulder with hers.
“Hey,” I greeted.
“Hey, you’re late.”
“I slept in,” I chirped. She laughed, shaking her head.
Brandi, the so-called study group “leader,” snapped her fingers to get our attention. I shot Joey a look, one that she shot back. Brandi was tolerable on a good day, and I knew she was stressed out about the test, but there was just something about her personality that grated on my nerves.
And she snapped her fingers at us. As if we were disobedient dogs.
“Can we please get back to studying? Emery, I hope you brought your notes for the section you’re supposed to read.”
I kept my eyes trained on her while pulling the notes out of my backpack, placing them on the table. Brandi grabbed ahold of them and skimmed the content. I was positive she would be happy with them. I might be a lot of things, but I was no slacker.
“Okay. Let’s get back to work.”
Joey rolled her eyes and flipped her notebook to a new page. It might be time to find a new study group.
***
The test wasn’t hard.
I was the first person to finish.
How easily I excelled in school was one of the reasons I didn’t mind that my last name had gotten me into this school. I knew I could have gotten in on my own merits. But alas, life was handed to me—with a pretty pink bow no less—and I would be stupid not to take advantage of it.
I had four more classes after this, though the next one didn’t start for another two hours, so I sat on the floor, pulled out my laptop, and did some homework while I waited for Joey to finish her test.
Joey and I met in the second grade. I was the new kid. I was quiet and shy and socially awkward, despite coming from a family that owned half the town, while Joey was the exact opposite of me.
She was outspoken, outgoing, and she hated the world with a passion I knew nothing about. Even at the tender age of seven, I understood that she was an angry kid. My innocence at the time hadn’t allowed me to comprehend the horrid home life Joey had, but it was she who had pulled me through my depressive state when she announced to the whole school that I was hers and that was all there was to it.
