Saving Bliss

by Rachael Brownell

  I shrug. His words hit deep. I know they’re at least partially true, but I'm not sure I'm ready to believe them yet. It's easier to think she's spent the last year lying to me about everything. It's easier to stay mad at her. At least for another night. She's going to call tomorrow and invite me out for drinks if my ploy pays off.

  In order to stay on my toes, I need to stay mad at her. I can’t let myself lose sight of what’s really going on. If I do…

  11

  Owen

  I try and distract Bliss from watching Jay work by forcing her to help me cook dinner. I give her easy tasks, keeping her busy. Unfortunately, they’re also mindless tasks, and I see the moment her mind starts to wander. When she told me that she was thinking about Avery, my heart broke for her a little. I remember how empty I felt when I lost Jay and Chelsea. It wasn't a good feeling, and it took a while for it to sink in. It takes even longer to accept it. The part that really sucks is that the lonely feeling never truly goes away.

  Until you have them back in your life. Like the other day when Jay showed up.

  I was up most of the night trying to figure out what to say to him. Nothing I came up with was good enough. Nothing seemed to describe how sorry I feel about what happened. When Bliss found me in the living room I was about ten seconds from coming unglued. Just seeing her grounded me.

  When she asked what was on my mind, I contemplated telling her for a few seconds. Then she crossed her arms over her chest and my mind went blank before thoughts of more enticing things replaced telling her my deep, dark secrets.

  I'll have to tell her eventually. It's inevitable. She deserves to know, but I'm not sure I'm ready to say the words out loud yet. It's going to be painful. I'll have to relive everything. The years of abuse. The time I spent trying to save Chelsea, only to lose her in the end. I know Bliss will understand once she knows everything. I'm not concerned about that. What I don't want is for her to feel bad for me.

  I don't deserve her pity. I've taken responsibility for my actions. I served my time. Losing Chelsea is the punishment I will live with for the rest of my life. The ache never seems to dissipate, not even for a moment. All it takes is one girl with a similar feature, the sound of a similar voice, or even a show on television that she enjoyed to bring the memories rushing back. The emotions smack me in the face full force and knock me on my ass.

  Those are normally the days I have nightmares. They're almost predictable now. I try to stay awake those nights since I know they'll be waiting for me as soon as I close my eyes. I felt one coming on last night, so I knew sleep was not going to come without consequence. I didn't want to have a nightmare with Bliss lying next to me. I've never had one with someone else in my bed.

  It would scare her, for sure; I know that. The last time I had one, it woke her up, and she was freaking out. That was the first night I kissed her. Avery had said something that day that struck a nerve within my soul. She reminded me of Chelsea for a brief, fleeting moment. That's all it took to trigger the nightmare.

  I'm bound to have one soon. It's been weeks since my last one, and with Jay living here now, there's no telling when or how often they'll happen. I should talk to Bliss about it tonight. After dinner. Or before we fall asleep. Or tomorrow, assuming I don't feel a nightmare coming on tonight.

  No. Sooner rather than later will be best. Tonight. It has to happen tonight. Judging by the look I saw on her face last night, she's going to have questions anyway.

  Dinner is quiet. Immediately after, Jay excuses himself to get settled, leaving Bliss and me alone for the first time since he arrived this afternoon. I motion for her to follow me into our room, and she silently complies, a hint of curiosity on her face. I know what she's thinking is about to happen, and I would love for that to be the reason we are headed to a more private location. Maybe after we talk, but it's not my priority right now.

  Bliss immediately starts to undress, and I have to stop her. If she loses her clothes, I won't be able to focus. It's hard enough with the door closed and the bed so close.

  "About last night…" That's all I get out before my voice betrays me and cracks.

  "I was wondering when we might talk about that." Bliss replies, taking a seat on the bed. She pats the spot next to her, so I take a seat and clutch my hands together for strength.

  "There are a lot of things that I need to tell you. You're going to have questions, I'm sure, but I need for you to wait until I'm done if you can. I also need for you to promise me something." I sneak a peek at her only long enough to see her nod. "Please don't jump to any conclusions. My story is long, and there are a lot of things that are going to be hard to hear and hard to believe."

  "Whatever it is, Owen, I promise not to let whatever you tell me change how I feel about you." Her sincerity is somewhat reassuring, but not completely. I know she means it, and she believes she'll be able to keep her promise to me, but she has no idea what I'm about to say. It might change the way she looks at me completely, and if it does, I won’t hold it against her.

  I take a deep breath before continuing, focusing my eyes straight ahead on the only picture I have in my room. It's of my mom, holding me after I was born. I love that picture in spite of the fact that my father is the one behind the camera.

  "My father was an abusive son of a bitch when I was growing up. He was bitter and angry. He drank a lot, and he used to take out his frustrations on me. It started before I was old enough to fight back. He never hit my sister, though. He was always loving and gentle with her. He never drank around her. He treated her as if she was the most precious thing on Earth. That made the beatings bearable. Then, I left home. I enlisted in the Air Force and left for boot camp right after I turned eighteen.

  "Chelsea wrote me every week. Her letters started to concern me after a few weeks. I swore I would never go home again until I was able to provide for Chelsea and get her away from my father. I assumed that she was safe since he had never laid a hand on her before. I was wrong. Without me at home to take out his frustrations on, he had started to abuse her verbally."

  "Why? Oh! Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."

  "My mom. She died giving birth to Chelsea. He blamed me because she wanted to have another child so I would have someone to play with. He was always angry after that. I don't remember her much, but there are a few things that come back to me from time to time. She liked to sing to me, I remember that. She had a beautiful voice. It was like he lost his reason to live after she died." I have to pause. Remembering Mom is always painful. I know I didn't do anything to cause her to die, but I was cheated out of a life with her, and that still makes me angry.

  "I didn't tell anyone I was coming home after I graduated boot camp. Not even Chelsea. I wanted to surprise her, and I didn't want my father to know. When I showed up at school to pick her up, she wasn't there. Her best friend told me she hadn't shown up that day, and I immediately knew something was wrong. Chelsea was smart. She wouldn't skip school for no reason, and if she wasn't going to make it, she would have told someone.

  "When I got to the house, I heard him yelling from the driveway. His words were slurred, so I knew he was drunk. I let myself in the back door as quietly as possible. That’s when I found Chelsea cowering in the corner of the kitchen. He was standing over her yelling about something. Tears were streaming down her face, and she was clutching her backpack. He had been yelling at her for hours.

  "When she saw me, her eyes light up with hope. My father must have noticed because he looked over his shoulder and snarled just before he charged me. I pushed him against the wall and held him there while I yelled for Chelsea to run. She knew where. We had a place along the fence line of our property. It was out of sight of the house, but she would be safe until I could get to her."

  I close my eyes, the memories flooding my subconscious.

  Run Chelsea! Run!

  "Once he started to sway and lose focus, I knocked him out and went to find her. She was on her phone, crying to someone. I
picked her up, carried her to my car, and took her to Jay's house. His parents let us stay the night while we figured out what our next move was. Chelsea still had almost two years of school left, and I was expected to report for duty in less than a week. I couldn't take her with me.

  "Jay’s parents agreed to take her in as long as I reported my father to the authorities. I didn't have a choice. I needed her out of that house and safe. They loved Chelsea as if she was their own daughter. Chelsea and Jay had been dating about a year at the time. He had enlisted a few weeks after me and was scheduled to come home for a visit in a few days. When I left to report for duty, Jay was working on extending his stay. They gave him an extra week but wouldn’t give him more.

  "It took my father less than a month to convince Chelsea to have dinner with him so he could apologize. She wanted him to change. She loved him regardless of how he treated her. He crashed his truck into a tree on the way back from dinner. He was drunk. Chelsea died on impact, but he lived. When I got the call, I took off without telling anyone, not even telling Jay. I found my father passed out on his couch after being released from jail, and I beat him to within an inch of his life before I called the police. I didn't want him dead. I wanted him to have to live with the fact that he had killed his own daughter.

  "Jay's never forgiven me. I had promised him that she was going to be safe with his parents. I promised him that nothing was going to happen to her. Jay had only been gone a week when the accident happened. I think there are times he blames himself for leaving. Most of the time, his anger has been directed at me, though. He was going to marry Chelsea. He had asked me while we were home together. I gave him my blessing because I knew he loved her and would be able to take care of her. He would have protected her."

  Bliss runs her hand up my arm, to my cheek, and I lean into it. I'm emotionally spent, but there's still one more thing I need to tell her. If I don't do it now, she'll put the pieces together for herself, and I’d rather have her hear it from me.

  "There's one more thing, Bliss. After I called the police, they arrested me. I was charged with assault with a deadly weapon, dishonorably discharged from the Air Force, and spent three years in jail. When I got out, Jay wouldn't talk to me or take my phone calls. He was out of the Air Force and had just started his company. I couldn't blame him. I’m sure the last thing he wanted was to be associated with a criminal or have a constant reminder of Chelsea around."

  Removing her hand, I bow my head, resting it against my chest. The bed moves as Bliss gets up and leaves the room. I can't watch her go. I’m afraid I'll break me if she doesn't come back. Minutes later, I hear the door close, and the bed moves again as she sits back down next to me. That’s when I allow myself to breathe a sigh of relief.

  "I only have one question. The nightmares?" Her voice is soft as if speaking at a normal volume might scare me away.

  "They're triggered from time to time by the smallest things that remind me of Chelsea. I'm always dreaming about that day in the kitchen, telling her to run. The dream changes from time to time. Sometimes, we’re in the living room. In others, we’re outside the house. It's all the same, though. I always wake up yelling for her to run. Then, there was the time I dreamt it was you and not her. That really freaked me out."

  Bliss is silent for a moment as she lets it all sink in. I wait patiently for her to say something, anything. It feels like forever before she takes my hand and pulls me down onto the bed next to her. We lay in silence before she speaks. Three little words that let me know everything is going to be fine. I haven’t scared her off.

  "I love you."

  Bliss

  I'm not sure why I chose to tell him. The words were past my lips before I even realized what I was saying. I didn’t intend to tell him yet. I wanted to make sure that we had a future together first. A future past the current reality we're living in. Something solid, stable. A life that we choose to live together, not the hand that has currently been dealt for us.

  I feel his body go stiff for only a moment before it relaxes completely. "I love you, too. I have for a while."

  My back is to him, so I know he doesn't see the one tear that manages to escape despite my best efforts. Even if he had, I imagine he would have wiped it away for me. That seems like an Owen move or at least something I would like to think would be an Owen move.

  "The time you dreamed about me…was that the night that you kissed me in the hallway?" I feel Owen nod his head against my back so I sink further into his body. "Is that the only time you've dreamt of me?"

  "I haven't had any nightmares lately, but I know it's just a matter of time. With Jay living here now, I'm sure I'll have one sooner rather than later."

  There’s a mix of fear and certainty in his voice. For his sake, I hope he’s wrong. I hope we figure all this out before the nightmares return.

  "Thank you for telling me. I know that must have been hard for you, but I want you to know it doesn't change the way I feel about you. I'm not sure anything could change that."

  "Do you remember the night you tricked me into taking you to that dive bar?"

  I smile, remembering that night fondly. I knew he would never let me leave the apartment alone, but just to make sure, I picked the sleaziest bar around. "Yeah. What about it?"

  "Do you remember what I told you when you were asking a bunch of personal questions about me?"

  I think back for a few minutes. We talked about a lot of things that night. "I remember you were really pissed off at me, but I'm pretty sure you never told me why."

  "I wasn't mad at you, Bliss. I was turned on and frustrated. I didn't tell you because it would have turned into an entirely different conversation that may have led to where we are right now. I couldn't open the door to my past without telling you everything."

  "My past comes with me. It’s part of who I am, who I've become." Owen's words echo in my ears as if he's saying them again right now. His past, everything he's just told me, has groomed him into the man he is today. He thought he would scare me away.

  "The man you've become. That's the man I love,” I say, smiling to myself at how naturally it feels to say the word love again.

  "I'm happy to hear that because I don't know how to be anyone else, and that man, he loves you, too."

  Turning around completely, Owen's arms never break their hold around my waist. When my eyes meet his, I can see his love for me. I only hope my eyes are conveying the same message. Kissing him gently on the lips, I rest my head on the pillow and stare straight into his eyes.

  For a moment, I forget about anything outside the room. There is no danger. Jay isn't here to help figure out who the hell Avery really is. Nothing matters except the way it feels to lie in Owen's arms knowing that he loves me. I want time to stop. I want this moment to last forever.

  Jay's knock on the door pops the bubble that I was trying to form around us.

  "Come in," Owen hollers as he sits up. I prop my head on my hand and stare at the door, waiting for Jay to open it. "Jay, you can come in. It’s fine."

  "I need for you to come out here, Owen. I need to show you something." The tone of Jay's voice hits a nerve somewhere down deep. I push myself into a sitting position and am about to slide off the bed when Owen places his hand on my thigh, stopping me.

  "Let me go see what he needs. I'll be right back."

  As soon as the door closes, I rush over and press my ear to the wood. I hear the faint sounds of footsteps and voices, but they're not close enough anymore to make out words. I move back to the bed and sit. It only takes a few minutes for me to get antsy and start pacing the length of the room. I stare at the clock on Owen’s bedside table, watching as the minutes tick by slowly.

  When the door opens an hour later, I stop dead in my tracks. Owen's face tells a story I'm sure I don't want to hear. I see pity. I hate that look.

  "What did he find? Just tell me so that I can start dealing with it."

  "It's not what he found, Bliss. It’s how he found
it." Owen takes a step toward me, but I instinctively back up.

  "Explain it to me, please."

  "I'd rather show you. It'll be easier to understand." I nod my head and take Owen's hand when he extends it out for me.

  Jay's waiting for us in the living room, a laptop open on the table in front of him. "Hey," I say as I take a seat across from him. Whatever is on that screen, I'm not sure I'm ready to see it just yet.

  "Did Owen explain to you what I found?" Jay looks between me and Owen and watches as Owen shakes his head. "Fine. I'll tell her."

  I wait patiently as Jay begins tapping keys, his eyes scanning the screen faster than imaginable. He can't possibly be reading anything.

  "Okay, so I dug a little into Freeman Falls. I found a police report of a huge drug bust. It was hidden deep in the records, but it happened less than a year ago. It doesn't name any party as guilty, just that a lot of drugs were confiscated. I added it to the timeline I've been creating, and a few things started to stand out." Turning the computer monitor toward me, Jay asks, "Do you see what I see?"

  I read over the timeline, twice. Beginning to end and then in reverse. I try to see what Jay sees. I try to figure out the mystery, but I can't.

  "I don't. Nothing seems to strike a nerve. Just tell me, please."

  "Look here," he says, pointing to the screen with the tip of his pen. "All this started after your mother came to visit. Avery's identity was created a few months later, right before you met. You father started acting suspicious, and from what I can tell, turning his head the other way on the drugs. And here's where Owen came into the picture."

  "What are you saying, Jay?" I ask, surprised at his interpretation.

  "It all started with your mother’s visit, and it looks like she'd been visiting you regularly until recently according to her credit card receipts."