Life Without You

by S. P. West

  That’s another thing that fucking sucks. Summer moving out without telling me. My junk has been out of here for months; I haven’t come back in ages. I didn’t exactly expect Summer to tell me her every move. The least she could’ve done is told me that she was fucking moving.

  Carmela is still in the middle of scolding an incandescent Ami. It could be hours until I can get goddamn word in, I know how Mom’s work having been chewed out by my own after I left Summer. I can’t be doing with that crap. Taking the bull by the horns, I decide to do what no sane person ever should; get in-between a mother and her child while mom is telling them off.

  “Hey.”

  “I’m really disappointed in you; you’re not a baby anymore so don’t act like one.”

  “Hey... um.”

  “I’m sorry Mommy.”

  “It’s not me that you should say sorry to, is it?”

  “Carmela?” I wave my hand trying to get her or the kid’s attention with no luck.

  “No Mommy.”

  “Now we have to give it back.”

  “But it’s my favorite story,” big fat tears form in Ami’s eyes as she begins to wail again. I mentally add a note to take some Tylenol along with the Scotch.

  I find myself pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration; pissed that I’m stuck outside my former home after being caught red-handed while trying to spy on my wife. The kicker is that she’s not even here.

  All I want to do is get drunk as fuck and pass out in a gutter someplace, not watch a mom and her daughter have a battle of wills. It’s not too much to ask, right?

  Just watching them together hurts; an all too painful reminder of the future that I gave up. For the briefest of moments, I imagine that it’s Summer with our little girl; a child that is as beautiful as her and I’m the proud dad looking on. It’s like a punch in the gut when I’m brought back to reality. It seriously sucks to be me right now.

  Instead of just walking off and leaving them to it, I stick two fingers in my mouth, whistling to gain their attention.

  “Yo!” Two sets of Jet black eyes narrow on me, “as cute as this is, I’m kinda wondering what the hell is going on?” Ami’s tiny mouth opens, no doubt to chastise me for swearing again. Smart girl.

  I cut her off before the mini force-of-nature gets the chance, “so now that I have your attention ladies, I’d like to ask a couple of questions if you don’t mind?” Managing to give them a shit-eating grin that has gotten me out of trouble more times than I care to count. Gesturing to the book that Carmela gave me I ask, “where did you get this?”

  Carmela blinks, and then shakes her head as she stands up. It’s only now that I pay attention to the fact that she barely reaches my shoulder, the lady is tiny.

  “I found it in our apartment. I thought it’d been accidentally left behind.”

  “22b?” I ask, tipping my chin at her.

  “Yeah.”

  “When did you move in?”

  “About two weeks ago.” She says confirming my suspicions that Summer had moved out. My head drops in defeat; I decide to stop wasting anymore of my time. I just need to get out of here and find the nearest bar. Summer has gone to fuck knows where. I doubt that anyone will tell me where she is or where she’s going. With a heavy heart, I realize that I’ve missed my chance to tell her how sorry I am. I raise my head and see that Ami has her hand wrapped tightly in her mom’s, her eyes are as big as saucers.

  “Are you okay?” Carmela reaches out and touches my forearm in an effort to comfort me. To my mortal shame, I feel a stray tear weave a path down my left cheek.

  “Look, I’m sorry that I disturbed you both. I just wanted to have a one last look at the place.” The little white lie slips past my lips effortlessly as I wipe the betraying tear from my cheek. I can’t bring myself to confess the real reason I’m here. God only knows why but I don’t want to see the disappointment on Ami’s face when she learns that Prince Alex is, in fact, a grade A a-hole and that stories don’t always have a happy ending. Who am I to destroy a little girl’s dreams?

  “I just wanted to relive some memories, you know?” Good memories, happy memories, sad memories. Not the cluster-fuck of the last few months.

  “What happened to the Princess? Why is she not here as well?” How do you answer such an innocent question like that?

  Well Ami, when you get older you’ll learn that sometimes adults fuck up, big time. I left my wife for another woman. I cheated; I lied and I hurt her beyond measure. I lost my job, my home and now I love , weed and alcohol more than I love myself. I don’t know where the hell she is as she won’t talk to me and this morning I got confirmation that we’re divorced; all because I couldn’t keep my dick in my pants.

  “I…um...I”

  “Honey I don’t think that Alex wants to talk about it,” her mom gentle chides.

  “No it’s okay. You need to know the end of the story right?” I say, crouching down next to Ami so that I’m her height once more. Carmela shrugs, giving me look that clearly says it’s your funeral.

  “Well the truth is….” Ami beams at me expectantly.

  God this is hard.

  “The truth is that I was…. I was mean to Summer, the princess, and she had to go away.”

  Her little brow forms a frown, “why?”

  Oh Jesus Christ, “sometimes adults make mistakes and I made one so big that my Princess got angry with me and we’re not together anymore.”

  “Can’t you say sorry? Mommy says that saying sorry is the best thing to do when I’ve been bad,” her bottom lip starts to quiver. I try hard not to smile over the way that this little girl is so devastated on our behalf.

  “I’ve been so naughty that I don’t think that sorry will help,” I tell her earnestly.

  “So you won’t get your happily ever after?”

  I shake my head, “no, I don’t think we will.”

  “That’s sad.” She says looking at her mom before whirling back around with a grin. “I know!”

  “What?”

  “Daddy told me, before he went to heaven, that when you wish upon a star, if you’re really lucky the angels grant you a wish.”

  “Okay.”

  “I wished Daddy would come back from Heaven. Mommy said that he couldn’t because he was an angel now. So I still have a wish!” Ami waves her arms about excitedly, warming to her idea, “I’m going to ask Daddy to let you and the Princess have your happy ending together just like in Cinderella.”

  “You will huh?”

  “I’ll ask him tonight,” her face grows serious. “I have to warn you that these wishes don’t happen straight away you know. It can take forevvveeerrrr for them to happen,” Ami sighs theatrically.

  Out of the corner of my eye I can see Carmela trying desperately to keep a straight face.

  “Thanks, I think.” I start to rise, “I don’t want you to waste your wish Ami.”

  “You won’t be.” She smiles again. “My daddy can do anything!”

  I down at her in return and reach out to rub her head, which earns me an annoyed scowl, “I’ll tell you what Kid, if your wish comes true I’ll send this book back to you with some new pictures.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Pinky Promise?”

  “Pinky promise,” I say solemnly offering her my pinky.

  “Cool! Mommy can I go play now?” She says skipping over to her mom.

  “Okay honey, go find Nonny and I’ll be up in a bit.” She says as the tiny terror runs towards to the entrance, “Oh and Ami? Tell Nonny no cookies.”

  Ami looks back at her mom with a grimace then turns her gaze to me. She gives me a small smile and yells “bye Prince Alex!” Before disappearing through the doors.

  I have to get out of here. I have that date with a bottle of scotch.

  “I gotta go,” I say as I turn my attention back to Carmela, “thank you for this though.” Holding up the book in front of me like a shield.

 
; “Sure.” Carmela smiles at me sadly, “I hope it all works out for you Alex.” She says before disappears inside the building, leaving me standing on the sidewalk alone as I take one last look at my former home.

  With the scrapbook secured firmly under my arm I decide to head in the general direction of the hell-pit that I’m currently living in. If I’m going to torture myself with what a fucking failure of a husband I’ve been by looking through the book that Summer made for me, then I’m going to get as drunk and high as I possibly can while doing it. Can’t do painful shit like this stone cold sober.

  Swinging by the liquor store on way home, I grab enough booze to annihilate my liver into the next century. It earns me a very disproving look from the clerk with bad acne and greasy hair. His shitty attitude earns him my middle finger as I walk out the store while opening one of the bottles of scotch that I’d just bought.

  Tonight is all about my punishment, punishment for the many sins that I’ve committed. I want to feel misery; I want to hurt, to experience a tiny amount of the agony that I forced on my wife. Once I’ve had my fill, tormented myself enough with my old life then I’m going to burn that damn scrapbook along with the divorce papers. It’s the only way I can think of to let Summer go – by burning our past.

  Maybe then we can both move on with our lives, for out of the ashes of destruction a phoenix will rise and hope will be restored.

  SUMMER

  DEL, ALYSSA AND SURPRISINGLY BECKS, saw me off at San Francisco International on my very last morning in the States. It was with a heavy heart I hugged them goodbye then headed off to the departure lounge and on to the plane that would carry me back to the gray skies and green fields of England.

  For the last months all I’d wanted was to be left alone. I didn’t want to see or speak with anyone. I’d had a few intensive therapy sessions, which had helped me see the truth; that I wasn’t responsible for the loss of my baby or the breakdown of my marriage.

  In those last few months, my life was spent flitting between the therapist; my attorney’s office, work and Del’s lumpy spare bed. Violet had to go home by then as her visa had run out and, as she pointed out, Del didn’t have enough room for her as well. I’d cried for days after she left, retreating further into my shell. I didn’t dare go out and socialize in case I accidentally bumped into Alex and his sidepiece. I didn’t think that I’d be able to cope if I saw them together. Which was stupid and irrational when you think how big San Francisco actually is, and how unlikely it would be. I guess that when you’ve been badly hurt by the one person that was supposed to love you unconditionally and you’ve waded through the massive pile of emotional manure that they’ve left you with; then you are bound to be a little bit cautious.

  However, I soon found out that friends are friends for a reason and mine had supported me through the tears, the tantrums and the bouts of self-pity that I had become prone to. Now they’d either wanted to see me off on my new chapter in my life or to make sure that I had left the country, I’m still not quite sure which.

  As we tearfully said our goodbyes, my mind wondered to the previous nights’ events. No one had spoken about it, although everyone had witnessed it. I knew full well that both Del and Lyssa were dying to talk to me about it. That was another reason I would miss my San Franciscan friends; if I had brought the topic up then my last night would have been spent post-analyzing what had occurred but they loved me so much that they didn’t. They weren’t willing to discuss it unless I spoke about it first. I was sure that when I walked through those gates then the gossip would start. I had kept my thoughts to myself. It was only when I was 25,000 ft. in the air, well on my way home, that I allowed the memories to creep back in.

  Last night Sergei and Dax had shut the café to the public, holding a surprise going away party in my honor. It was a bittersweet event with a touch of drama thrown in. Many of our regulars came, as well as all the staff. I spent most of the first hour crying as I said farewell to all the people who’d become like family to me. When it came time to say goodbye to Sergei he’d held me tight for what seemed like hours and as we parted I saw unshed tears in his eyes.

  “I’ll miss you, my English rose,” he said in his strong Russian accent. “You come back. You have job,” before abruptly walking away from me. Always a man of few words. After Sergei had left Dax jumped in, crushing me to his body.

  “Stay sweet cheeks, we’ll look after you,” he whispered in my ear as he hugged me.

  “I can’t Dax,” I managed to croak out to the man who’d been like a brother to me. He leant back moving his arms to my waist; his eyes red and his handsome face puffy. “I know lime Pie, I know.” he said sadly. “Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t try. I…. we’ll miss you.”

  “Don’t….” My heart was breaking over again. I was giving up my life, my home, and my friends all because my dickhead husband, ex-husband, couldn’t keep it in his pants and had taken me for everything that I had.

  “I hate him you know, Sergei and I both do. For what he did to you, for him taking you away from us. We decided that he’s banned for life, we’ve even printed up a poster with the asshats face and name on it to put in the cafe to remind all the staff. Oh and I did the same for that Bitch.” For the first time since this whole sorry mess I felt myself smile. I couldn’t bring myself to speak, couldn’t communicate to him the over whelming sense of sadness that had at the thought of leaving my friends behind. “And don’t forget, we’ll come visit you. You can take us to see the sights.” His voice cracked as he tried to keep his emotions under control, “I expect tea at the Ritz and a shopping trip to Harrods young woman!”

  I looked at this man. This wonderful, kind and generous human being, who’d given me a job when no one else would, despite my ineptitude, who had made me laugh on a daily basis and who had shown me true friendship. No matter what life had thrown at him, he always had a smile. I realized then that I should take a leaf out of Dax’s book. I had to let go of the hate, to turn it into indifference. Otherwise, it would eat me up inside, make me bitter.

  “I’m going to miss you both,” I sighed resting my head on his hard chest. Dax hugged me tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. Just then Bruno Mars’ ‘Just the Way You Are’ started to play on the stereo. Dax pushed me back gently, taking my hands in his, “dance with me lime pie,” he grinned as whirled me around to the cheers from everyone else.

  “You know, if I didn’t love that big lug,” Dax said glancing behind him to Sergei as we swayed to the music, “I would totally switch sides for you.”

  “You wouldn’t know what to do with a woman!” I laughed.

  “That’s where you’re wrong sweetheart. I saw sex-ed videos in high school,” his eyes alight with mischief as we turned, “and...” I felt his whole body stiffen.

  I glanced up to see that he was looking towards the large front window of the cafe. The normally gentle Dax’s amber eyes narrowed - a look of fury burned from them, his jaw clenched in anger. I swear that he muttered ‘motherfucker’ under his breath as he let me go. “Stay here sweet cheeks; I’ll be back in a minute.” His gaze still zeroed on something outside the restaurant.

  “Dax what’s going on?” I tried to turn but he held me in place.

  “Nothing to concern your pretty little self with honey, do me a favor and don’t look out the window.” He kissed me on the cheek before striding towards the door.

  I turned in time to see Dax join my colleague Liam, who was in angry discussion with someone. I couldn’t quite see past the other people to see who he was talking to. Dax began shaking his head, making a gesture for the person to leave before turning round to head back inside. As he opened the cafe door, I heard a familiar drunken voice shout, “You can’t stop me from seeing my fucking wife, asshole!”

  Alex. Alex was here. He was outside. Shit.

  The sound of his voice caused pain to slice through me as the tsunami of emotions I had desperately tried to suppress came rushing to the surface. I coul
dn’t understand why he was here when he had no reason to be.

  He was the one who’d left our marriage for someone else, not me.

  He’d asked for a divorce, not me.

  He was a lying, cheating scumbag, not me.

  He could fuck right off.

  White hot anger burned through me; anger that he was here, taking away my last good memory of my life in San Francisco. The last amount of love that I’d felt for him, the tiny hope that I’d held that he’d come back to me died in that brief moment as I realized I didn’t want him back. I was leaving behind a life I’d loved, my friends all because of him. He’d taken away my heart, my home, my trust and yet he had the nerve to turn up here and demand to talk to me?

  No, Alex had no more say in my life anymore. He certainly wasn’t going to dictate whether or not I would speak to him again. He wasn’t my husband any longer; that was his doing, not mine. He had no right to ask anything of me. In fact, he should be at home with his whore not harassing the ex-wife he’d broken.

  So why was he here? What did he possibly have to say that he’d think that I’d want to listen to it?

  The sad thing was that once upon a time I would have believed him no matter what; even if he’d told me that the stars where made out of diamonds and the moon was made of cheese. I’d never had any reason to doubt him yet now I saw him for complete the twat that he was. Many times I’d wondered over the last few months whether he’d always been like that; if I’d ignored the signs because I was so hopelessly in love with him. Now, I didn’t want to waste anymore of my time on him. It’d taken me months to feel strong again; he was not going to take that away from me.

  I could hear the argument continue to rage outside; small snippets of the heated conversation reaching my ears;

  Mistake. Love. Wife. Divorce.

  Lord knows what he was saying; I could only assume that he’d gotten the letter from the court telling us we were now no longer legally bound to each other. One thing I did know was that the man standing outside, someone I’d once loved, was dead to me now. He’d been replaced by a selfish, uncaring man - a stranger.