by M. R. Joseph
"Cruz, you getting shit faced like this every chance you get isn't going to change a thing."
I know this already but if I don't feel anything I’m fine. At least I can talk myself into thinking that.
I get up off the bench, frustrated and bleary eyed, and again, pissed off at the world. Walking over to the edge of the bridge over looking the inlet, I stop and close my eyes. My thoughts immediately going to her and the memory of seeing her tonight. It's not like I don't see her in my mind a thousand times a day, but I was in such close proximity to her today. It's a little harder that I actually saw her in the flesh. I saw the way she carried herself on her crutches. She didn't look like she was in a lot of pain, just struggling with getting around. I wanted to go to her, hold her, help her. I wanted to remind her just how much I love her.
"Don't you think I know that, Porter. Tomorrow morning when I’m dealing with my hangover, the pain will come back in full force. At least when I’m fucking drinking like a sailor it's a temporary fix."
"But it's not a temporary fix, Cruz. You're lucky you haven't lost your job. You're getting the rep of a drunk around here and whether you want to hear it or not it's the damn truth."
Porter yells at me and I know it's for my own good, but I can't help it. Sometimes I just want to run away from it all. I pray—which I have been doing since Harlow was in the accident—I pray that I forget it all happened, that I didn't fall in love with her, that what we shared didn't happen, but it did. My prayers mean shit.
My stomach churns and I want to throw up. I swallow and hope I don't puke in front of these guys. I ask the question I don't want to ask, but if I don't the question will spin in my head and takeover any other thought I will have until I fall asleep.
"Did she...ask about me tonight? Did she ask where I was? You can tell me the truth."
They look at each other as I turn from the water to look at them. I look at all of them, all six of them. I really should stop drinking so much. Maybe they're right.
Max comes over and firmly grasps my shoulder. "Yea, she did. She asked about you, but I won't sugar coat it for you. That's all she said."
"And what was your response?"
"We didn't want her to worry because she has enough on her plate so we told her you were getting by."
I have to laugh at that. Getting by. Seriously?
I pace around the asphalt, the sea air invading my lungs as I breathe in deep, almost hyperventilating. Because I'm not getting by.
"That was a good lie to tell, Max, ’cause I’m not getting by, I’m hardly moving. I’m hardly functioning. Do you know what that was like when she finally opened her eyes and I was kissing her face and crying telling her how happy I was that she was awake and...and calling her baby...and telling her how much I loved her and that I would always protect her and never let her out of my sight again?”
Then the vomit comes up and I spew on the ground below. I swipe at my mouth and sink to my knees, crying like a bitch. Porter and Max fall beside me.
They rub my back and for some reason I welcome it. I feel their hands, and I feel their concern through my sweat-soaked shirt.
I still feel things. Who knew?
"Do you...have you any idea what it was like to hear her try and scream for help when I was doing that? She hardly had a voice. But the fear was in her eyes. The eyes I fucking fell in fucking love with. Do you have any idea what it was like to be dragged out of that room by three large orderlies? Then not be allowed to see her for days and days?"
I can still feel it, still see the nightmare when I close my eyes.
Max rests his chin on my shoulder and I swing my feet from under me to sit on my ass. I grasp my face in my hands and cry. I cry from losing the love of my life, I cry because I can't get her back, I cry because she can't remember that she was the love of my life. I choke back a sob.
"I...I just, I never knew what love was until she came along. I know I have to let her live her life and get better, but I can't give up knowing what the doctors said. She could still get her memory back."
I still have the hope.
"Cruz, buddy. What if it never comes back? What if it's a year from now or a few years from now? Then what? You're not going to move on? You're going to just sit here day after day, getting drunk, and every summer if she comes to Sandy Cove you'll continue to stalk her? What kind of life is that?"
I stand up, stumbling on my way up, truly drunk but getting more sober by the second as my mind starts coming back.
"What kind of life am I going to have? Jesus, Porter, what kind of life am I living now? It's not going to get any better than this. Nothing is ever going to be the same because I don't have her and she was my life! I have to get her back. I have to try to get her to remember why we fell in love, what was so special about us. Maybe... I don't know. Maybe if I do it slowly, something will click. In her brain her memories will come back. I know there are other things in her life she doesn't remember ’cause Craw told me. No memories of her birthday parties, or teachers’ names, pets, or shit like that. But it kills me that she can't remember what we had."
That's my plan. I won't rest until she remembers. I’m not going to tell Max or Porter, or even Craw my plan. Like I said, I'll do it slowly. I'll be her friend. I'll be her best friend. I'll do whatever it takes to get her back in my arms again. And this time, no matter what, I'll never let her go. When you have something like what Harlow and I had, you don’t just give up. You don’t give up on love.
CHAPTER 3
Willow's right...I’m a sucker for accents
Harlow~
Believe it or not, sitting here at Jax does bring back some memories. I remember the dimmed lights, the sticky floor, and the smell of fermenting beer throughout this place. I recall Max's band playing, being sweaty from dancing all night long. I remember all of us being together. I even remember Cruz being with us.
Speaking of...
As we all sit at one of the booths I look around at Max, Willow, Thea, and Porter and the realization comes to me that he's missing. When I have brought up his name in the past, everyone seems to skip around it, at home I mean. I didn't have a lot of questions in the hospital because I was trying to get my head around what had happened and what I had endured. I asked about Chad. He's living in Princeton again, but was warned by many to keep as far away from me as possible. My dad wanted me to get a restraining order against him, but I didn't think it was necessary.
Cruz and I were friends. We had a rocky start, but it blossomed into a brother/sister thing that apparently turned into love. I haven't spoken to or seen him since I left Sandy Cove's hospital. When I moved back into my house again after staying with my parents during my recovery, I stumbled upon a picture of us. It was taken in a car. I think it was his. We looked so happy. I know we had a long-distance relationship for a while, but we made it work.
We were madly in love, but from what Willow says, I told him I loved him and Cruz... well Cruz just isn't the words type of guy. That is hard to believe because of the letters he wrote to me once I woke from the coma. Initially, they had been words of love and devotion. Then, he knew they frustrated me, they stopped. I was hurting from not being able to connect my memories and feelings. I never wanted Cruz to feel like he couldn't see or talk to me. It was as though time stopped and we were only neighbors who’d laughed together, played volleyball on the beach, and went to Jax to hang out the nights he didn't work. Jax...where we first met. Yes. I remember that. Where it all started and how.
My mouth speaks before my brain has time to think about it and I blurt out what I’ve been holding in not really realizing that it has been bothering me as much as it does. But it needs to be addressed.
"I want to know why you guys are keeping Cruz from being here with us. I want to know what you guys are trying to protect me from. It's not fair and I need to know what he went through when I was asleep. Enough of this bullshit. Just tell me everything."
They all look at me like I’m m
edusa and there's a hundred snakes dancing around my head. They aren't really used to sudden outbursts by me. Ordinarily, we save that for Willow.
Porter clears his throat. "I don't know why you want to know it all, Har. I'll be honest with you, but it won't make a difference because you don't remember your relationship anyway, so why would you want to know?"
Porter's tone is soft, floating around my questions in a way.
"Har, it's better that you just know you guys were together and that at one time it was great. I’m sorry if that sounded harsh. I didn't mean it to be harsh." Porter looks to me with sadness in his eyes, but I don't care.
That's not a satisfactory answer. I slam my hand down, surprising everyone and myself at my sudden action.
"God damn it, Porter! Stop with this. I read his letters, I know how he felt about me, how I apparently felt about him, and if he's hurting I need to know about it. I need to know everything. Stop with the pussyfooting around the subject. Stop trying to make it seem like it didn't happen in my life. Stop making it seem like it was no big deal because the more you all contravene the situation, the more you’re making it worse."
They now do something that confuses me. Instead of acting sad or looking sorry, they smile. They freaking smile.
"I’m serious, guys. Why are you smiling at me?"
Willow puts her arm around me and squeezes. "Because you used a big word."
"Huh?" I question.
Max reaches over the table and takes my hand, tapping it lightly. "You used to use this enormous vocabulary. Words no one, well sometimes only I would understand. Cruz used to call you big brain. You haven't used a word we don't recognize in a long time."
I rub my temples then my eyes, and attempt to remember how my extensive use of the English language used to either impress or frustrate people. I use my knuckles and tap on the side of my head.
"Well, this noggin isn't what it used to be. But enough about me." I pause and look at them. "Guys, I need to know. I need to know it all. I need to know how bad it is and how he's dealing. If he's not, I need to try and make it better."
They look at one another. Max nodding to Porter, Porter then giving a subtle nod back to Max. They think I need to know. Their eyes tell me.
Max motions for the bartender to bring another round. I have the feeling this may be a lengthy conversation.
After our newest round comes, I see the way they all look to each other like they're deciding who should speak first. I'll make it easy for them.
"Guys, I know how it started, I just need to know how it ended."
Max looks to everyone and puts up his hand before anyone else is able to speak up.
"I helped him, Harlow. How it ended, I helped him do it."
Willow and Thea gasp. Porter, with his head hung low, looks disappointed at Max’s confession.
I sit back unable to comprehend what he's saying; he helped him?
"When your grandmother approached him at Greta's wedding, she threatened him, made him feel so inferior to you, told him he wasn't good enough for you and never would be. She even blackmailed him with some kind of promise that she would falsify a drug test in order to get him kicked off the Sandy Cove force, and would make sure he never worked on a police force again."
Willow swigs back half her beer and slams down her glass.
"That old, crotchety bitch!" I have to laugh ’cause she's right.
"So instead of confronting me, telling me what she did, he figured it was just easier not to fight for me? For what we had?"
Max looks to me, his expression complex.
"It wasn't that easy, Har. See, Cruz was, at that time, he was just this guy. A guy who women fell over no matter what he did or what he said. He just carried around this...this attitude that attracted people to him. He didn't care who he brought home with him, and he could have cared less about how they felt when he kicked them out the next day. Sex was something like an addiction to him. It was a high, just to get off. Sorry if that sounds crude, but you wanted to know the truth. You changed all that for him though."
I do know what he meant. I know what he was like with women, which is why it would have never worked with us.
But it wound up working. So my curiosity grows and Max continues to tell the story.
"Cruz never knew about the importance of relationships. He never wanted one. That was until he fell in love with you. You guys were the oil and water that mixed together. No one saw it coming, no one more so than Cruz. He grew up very differently to you, Har. His mom was a drug addict. His dad left when Antonio and he were little. She would whore herself out to score. She left those kids to fend for themselves for years. He loved Antonio, but never truly knew what being in love was like."
"He told me he grew up in a great family. His dad was a hard worker, and his mom was a typical, loving mom. Have I remembered this incorrectly?"
Porter speaks up, "He told you a different story because he was embarrassed. You have these awesome parents, and live a great life, and he had none of it. He was so afraid that if you knew the truth, you would run the other way. That's why he fought his feelings for you. Then when he realized maybe it didn't matter, he told you how he loved you. By that time, he felt like it was too late to confess the truth."
I don't know how I feel about that. If he loved me like he said he did and I loved him the way everyone tells me I did, I wouldn't have cared if his father was an evil dictator of some foreign country and his mom was his co-conspirator. That wouldn't have changed the way I felt about him.
"Porter, you know me. I would have cared less. I’m not Greta. The money thing, the social status, that isn't how I pick and choose the people I care about. I wasn't with Chad for that. Actually, I really don't know why I was with Chad."
Money changes everything. It changes people. It doesn't make life any easier. I know this. I was born into it.
Willow puts her arm around my shoulder and squeezes. "We all know you're not like that, and I think Cruz knew that, he just didn't have the self-confidence to know the difference. It was his downfall."
I reach for my beer and take a sip. I really don't want it because I feel so sad. I feel so sad for Cruz, his life, what my grandmother did, why it ended.
I look at Max from across the table. "So Max, get back to how you had a part in us breaking up?"
Porter sits back and shifts in his seat, presumably uncomfortable with what sort of conversation is about to take place. Thea's head is down, and Willow glares at Max.
Max takes in a deep breath, looks to the ceiling, and blows it out.
"You and Willow came to Sandy Cove to see him. After the confrontation with your grandmother, he needed to break it off with you because he was forced to imagine what kind of life you would have with him. Because of her threat, he saw himself as just a kid born into a drug-induced family, his career ruined by her false accusations, and therefore a man unable to support you. You would think he was a loser. He wanted to leave you before you got a chance to leave him. He was used to people leaving him. He didn't want to feel that again."
My mind is whirling, my hands are shaking. I can't even imagine what he went through.
Max continues, "When you walked into the house that day, he asked me to pretend that I was a girl in his room and that he was cheating on you. I made some noise and you heard. Willow was there and heard it too."
Willow reaches across the table and smacks Max in the head. Max winces.
"I could still kill you for that, mohawk man."
"I wanted to kill him before I knew the truth. Even after, I still wanted to pummel him,"
Craw, who's been pretty silent, says. I think this whole situation has been hard on him as well.
Max rubs his head. "I know, I know. I didn't want to do that, believe me, Harlow. I told him no a thousand times but he was relentless. He knew you couldn't deal with being cheated on again and that if you thought there was a girl there you would hate him for it."
Parts of my past h
aunt me. The cheating Chad did the whole time we were together, the pregnancy, the fact that I ended the pregnancy because he would never stop cheating. Look where that got me. So, yes, Max is right. Cheating would have been my breaking point.
"And then the accident happened. But he tried to get me back before that?"
They all nod. Willow inches her chair closer to mine. Her voice is soft—unlike her at all.
"He realized it was all wrong. He realized you would have loved him no matter what. So yes, he tried, and that...that was the day of the accident."
I hold my breath and grasp at my scant memories of that day. Not really recalling the whole situation, I still don't know why I got on that boat. Why? Being deathly afraid of water, what would have possessed me to go? Why would I even have gone with Chad?
I look to them, my eyes continually asking silent questions.
What did Cruz do?
What was it like for him?
Why didn't he leave?
Suddenly there are so many questions running through my head that I don’t know which one I need answered first. I just know I need answers.
"And after the accident?" I ask.
Max starts to speak, but Craw stops him.
My brother, my hero. The one person I trust more than anyone on this earth looks straight at me, as straight as an arrow, grabbing both my hands and placing them in his.
"He stayed by you for the better part of six weeks. He slept in a chair by your bed, showered when your doctors assessed you, read to you and talked to you. He never left. Never."
"Never?" I ask.
"Never, ever. He lost his job ’cause he refused to leave. At first, Mom and Dad tried to convince him to just visit, but he was afraid if he was away from you, you’d open your eyes and he wouldn’t have had the chance to tell you he loved you. After that, they knew he wasn't going anywhere."
"And then I woke up."
Craw nods and I know what happened after that.
I pull my hands away from Craw's, burying them in my lap. Tears fill my eyes and I think about his sadness. I wish this damn brain of mine would just remember, then he wouldn't be suffering.
