by A. C. Bextor
“I wanted a drink after he left,” he confesses.
“Did you have one?”
“No. Not because I care what happens to me, but what it would do to Hayden. I hurt him as much as any father could. I have my reasons, Lace. A drink won’t solve the problem.”
“What will?”
“I don’t know,” he whispers quietly.
“I need to find him.” The light in Brian’s eyes shines. “If you have any idea, I need you to tell me. After last night and what he found out about his mother, I . . .” I don’t want to finish. The thought of Hayden feeling so desolate and alone all these months has been weighing heavily. Now, in the face of a parental suicide, this could be disastrous.
“The beach house. It’s where he’s gone before.”
“I need the address.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“No,” I say while standing. “You’re the reason he needs space. Please respect that.”
Walking out of the room and leaving him to sit and accept what I’ve said, I wait by the front door. Pictures of Hayden decorate the walls. His sixth grade class picture, his high school graduation, college graduation. His life plays out frame by frame, but missing in each of these pictures is his mother.
She was dead and he had no idea.
“Here it is. I wish you’d reconsider. You shouldn’t be driving in your condition.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m pregnant, Mr. Flynn.”
“Brian,” he corrects, “I hope there will come a time when you feel comfortable calling me Brian again.”
“I do, too,” I say, turning around.
As soon as my feet hit the porch, Hayden’s dad calls for my attention. When I stop and turn to face him, I nearly miss the set of keys he tosses to me.
“Take the Mercedes. It’s safer than whatever that is.” He points to my car with skepticism. My car would have been fine.
“Okay. I’ll text you from Hayden’s phone when I get there.”
“Thank you, Lacey.”
*****
The directions in the GPS were easy to follow. The beach is dark by the time I make it to Hayden’s street. Clouds hover over the water like a nagging cloak, surrounding the area with its impending rain. I see Hayden’s Land Rover in the driveway and kill the lights as I pull in. The house lights are off and I start to wonder if Hayden’s here.
I hadn’t given any thought to Hayden’s reaction to me coming here. I was more concerned with what he’d be doing without me. The mind goes to the dark recesses we don’t want it to know exist in times like these.
I knock twice, but don’t hear anything inside. My back aches as I stand in place. Holding my stomach, I turn around and feel for the top of my legs. Numb. I’m guessing the baby is situating herself on my spine and cutting off blood flow. There’s no pain, so I continue making the trek around the house to the walk-in basement. I don’t have to go far before the rain releases. Large pellets here and there start to hit, but after a few more steps, the rain picks up and I’m soon drenched and cold.
The back door is swung open, but again no lights.
“Hayden?” I raise my voice while looking a few feet inside.
No response.
Just as I start to panic, I hear my name called from a distance. I turn to find who’s yelling and I see Hayden standing on the beach barefoot with his jeans rolled up. From where I’m standing, I’m guessing he’s as soaked as I am.
He meets me halfway between the house and the beach as the rain continues to come down harder. Grabbing me tightly, he pulls me into him before pushing me back.
*****
Hayden
The last person I expected to see here tonight was Lacey. Her presence, although good to feel, isn’t what I need. What I need is time alone with my thoughts; the opportunity to process my life’s events over the last year without influence or interruption. I can’t do that with her here.
Her small form, swallowed by her belly, is drenched. The worry on her face is paralyzing. She shouldn’t be out here in this weather. She shouldn’t have driven the distance to check in. I appreciate her for it, but I don’t want her here.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?”
“I’m looking for you!” she says, loud enough to cover the rain’s downpour over the ocean waves.
“I told you I’d call. You shouldn’t have driven all the way down here alone, Lace.”
“Hayden, I’m worried.”
“Well, don’t be. Just give me some fucking space, Lacey. That’s all I need.”
“Hayden,” she says with a serious tone that captures my attention and puts my mind right to listen. “I want to be here. You don’t have to talk to me. You don’t have to tell me what’s happening inside that head, but I don’t want to leave you.”
The rain pounds harder, the ocean’s waves slamming against the beach a short walk from where we’re standing. I sense her stress and hate I’ve put more on her. Especially now, when she’s so close to bringing our baby into the world.
A fucked-up world though it may be.
Leaning my forehead against hers, I confess loud enough that she’s able to hear it. “I’m lost, Lacey. I don’t recognize anything anymore. Everything I thought I knew was a lie. I’m a lie.”
“You’re not.”
“I hurt my friends.”
“They’ll forgive you.”
“I hurt you.”
“I forgive you.”
“I don’t want to risk hurting anyone else.”
“Hayden, come inside.”
“Lacey, go home.” We stand in challenge, each refusing to back down. “Stop trying to
fix me.”
“You’re not broken.”
Pushing her away from me, I notice the rain letting up. The veil of dark we had been surrounded in moments ago has lifted and we’re standing face to face nearing a breaking point.
My voice strains as it rises in anger. “I am broken, Lacey! You don’t see it. I don’t know why you don’t! Everyone I know does. Rae, Ace, Travis . . . they all know how fucked-up I am. I’m reminded every time I look at them. I’m never going to be what you think it is I can be!”
Her face drops. The concern she had been holding onto fades and in its place, a mask of fury takes flight. Pushing my chest, she screams, “You’re not broken, but you are fucking stupid. Jesus Christ, Hayden. Take a look!” Her arms fly out to her sides, wide open, revealing the belly I’ve come accustomed to touching. “This is for you. I’ve waited . . . so fucking long for you. I’ve held my patience and my loyalty . . . for you! Are you blind?” She stops, catches a breath and brings her hands to her stomach. “I love you, Hayden. I love you! Goddamn it. You’re a self-destructive arrogant ass, but God above help me, because I still love you.”
I’m speechless. In all my life, all my life, I’ve never had a woman tell me they love me. They’ve loved to fuck me. They’ve loved my hands on their bodies. They’ve loved the attention I briefly shower them in until I’m finished with them.
No one has ever loved me.
My voice, strained from screaming, is raspy and dry. My body, tense from fighting internal battles for so long, is tired. I manage to say the words I’ve felt but never knew how to decipher until now. “I love you, Lacey.” Her face softens, her arms rest at her sides and I watch her visibly exhale. “I love you,” I say again a little louder, hearing the words fall from my mouth with urgency. “I do.”
Her eyes shine in the moonlight. She’s assessing me but not with anger or resentment. She’s appreciating me for who I am . . . to her. “I know you do, Hayden.” I nod gently, urging her to continue so she can lead me to the next step of whatever this is. I’m at a turning point and unsure where we go from here. “Take your time. Get yourself together and then sort this out with your dad. It’s important you listen to him.”
Pulling her into me, wanting to feel the safety and calm she gives me without question, I kiss the crown of her head
and close my eyes. I hear her whisper against my skin, “I’m so sorry about your mom.”
My hands find the nape of her neck and I reluctantly pull her from my body. “Thank you.”
“For being sorry?”
Reaching up, I wipe the wet hair as it clings to her face. “No. For being you.”
“Hayden!” A voice hollers from the direction of the house and both Lacey and I move our heads to find my dad. We say nothing until he arrives.
As he gets closer, I fight the urge to expel every angered thought in my head.
“Go, Lacey. Go home,” my dad tells her. The expression on her face is determined but she thinks better than to challenge him.
Her head turns to mine and in the stillness of the storm that has passed, I hear her words with further clarity. “I love you, Hayden.” She stands on her toes and kisses my cheek, squeezing my arms as she lets me go. Without looking to my dad, she walks away back into the house.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I came to check on her,” Dad states plainly.
“Like you did my mom?” The words meant to hurt do their job and his face flashes regret and sadness.
“There are things you don’t know.”
“Really, Dad? ‘Cause I think I’ve been clued in, no thanks to you.”
He turns from me and stares into the ocean. His hair, not soaked in rain like mine, whispers through the wind as he releases a heavy sigh. He points to the chairs on the beach. “Can we sit?”
“Why the fuck not? Doubt you’ll leave any easier than she did.”
Once seated, Dad continues to stare into the ocean, never chancing a look at me. I’m studying his profile in wonder. I look almost exactly like him: the shading of our skin, the color of our hair, the same ice-blue eyes matching nearly in sync.
“I loved her, Hayden,” he starts, bracing his hands on either side of the chair. “She was my entire world for as long as I had her in it. I couldn’t breathe unless she was near me.”
“Dad, I don’t need this shit.”
“Let me talk, please.”
“Then say something,” I snap.
“She was sick. I knew when I met her she was suffering from chronic depression.” He pulls out the pendant he wears, the one that matches mine . . . so I thought. His fingers trace the edges carefully. “When we found out she was pregnant, I knew things would never be the same. My life as I had come to love with her in it would be different with an infant to care for. She would’ve been forced to give her energy to you and in turn, less focus would be put on her getting and staying well. The depression was severe, Hayden.” He stops talking, searching for words.
“Go on,” I prod.
“When I met her, she had bandages on her wrists. She was a waitress at the diner; I never lied to you about how we met or how our relationship took course. That was all true.”
“You omitted facts, Dad. You’re a lawyer, so that makes you an expert on lying.”
“I was protecting you.”
“From what?”
“From her,” he states, finally turning to look at me. “How different would your life have been had you known she had killed herself when you were four days old? Would you still be who you are? Would you not have let that hang over your head all your life?”
“Instead, I’m you,” I accuse and he winces at the accusation.
“Yes. You are. You’re making stupid decisions because that’s what you’ve learned from me. I’m ashamed to admit that, but I will if it helps you see your life for what it could be.”
Sitting back in my chair, I look to the vast ocean, trying to find whatever answers he’s
been searching for in the waves that continue to crash against the sand. I don’t find any.
“I drank to forget,” he confesses. “I drank so I wouldn’t remember her smell or the way she tasted. I didn’t want to hear her laugh ring in my ears or feel my fingers ache to touch her. That’s how it started. I drank to forget.”
“Did it work?”
“Yes, it did. It was a great distraction. Momentarily, I forgot how much I missed her. But by coping the way I did, I forgot about you, son. I ignored you as a child. I let Bean do a job I felt I wasn’t suited for. When I wasn’t drunk, I immersed myself in my work until I could get the bottle in my hand to finish what the day started. Another day of nothing.”
“That’s encouraging.”
“I’ve been sober for three hundred and fifty-nine days,” he says with regret.
“Congratulations,” I say with sarcasm, laced with contempt.
“I’m not asking for your appreciation, Hayden. The first day of sobriety, after the alcohol finally made its way from my system completely, was the first day I truly mourned the loss of her.”
“I don’t get it.” I’m confused.
“I missed her for ten thousand days. I never let her go. I let myself believe my own lie. She was somewhere happy and she hadn’t been truly happy since the day I met her.” Sadness takes over his face and I start to understand. “I never looked at you. I looked through you your entire life. I didn’t want to see her traits on your small face. I didn’t want to hear her laugh in yours. When I sobered, that was what I saw. That was all I heard.”
“Jesus Christ, you should’ve shared this with me. You could’ve talked to me. I was around you all the time. Taking care of you then helping you get better was my life’s objective. Now, you’re telling me that me being there made it worse?”
“You’re not listening.”
“I am.”
“Your presence, her presence in you, is what allowed me to heal, Hayden. I love you very much, and I’ve missed out on a lifetime of memories because of my denial. I watch you now, and I see you making those same mistakes. Don’t do it. Don’t make a mockery out of your life as I have.”
“She cries because of me,” I tell him, referring to Lacey.
“Give her a reason to stop.”
“I don’t know that I can.”
“Do you love her?”
“Yes, more than anything.”
He pauses, turns in his chair and looks at me. Our eyes meet and the certainty in his is overwhelming. “Lacey loves you. She wouldn’t still be around after everything the two of you have put each other through if she didn’t. Is there anything you wouldn’t do for her or for you two to be together?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell her that and more. Saying ‘I love you’ is easy. It’s what comes after that counts so much.”
“She may not believe me.”
“I believe you.”
“Cathy,” I state, both wanting answers and a change of subject. “Who is she to you?”
“The first woman I had sex with after your mother.”
“Oh, God.” Sweet Cathy’s face flashes in my mind and leaves me feeling sick. I knew they had a connection and she cared about him deeply. I knew it, but ignored it.
“She lost her husband shortly after I lost your mother.”
“Wait. Hold up.” My hand rises with my demand. “You’ve known Cathy my whole life?”
He laughs. “Well, yeah. I told you there was history there, Hayden. After your mother died, I met Cathy at the office. She cleaned for the firm I was working at . . .”
“You fucked her on your desk, didn’t you?” He goes to speak, but I stop him. “Fuck, don’t answer that.” His sly smile just did, though. Damn it.
“She wanted more from me than I could give her at the time. When she told me we were over, I slept with as many women as I could to avoid relationships and the heartaches that come with them. Sound familiar?” He smiles at me with recognition.
“Like father, like son,” I answer with a light heart.
“Here,” he says, taking off his pendant he’s worn for as long as I can remember. “Saint Dymphna,” he states, handing it over to me. “The saint of illness and mental disorders. I’ve worn it for your mother long enough. Don’t wear it as I did, but keep it in h
onor and prayer for her.”
“I wish things would’ve been different, Dad. I wish you could have trusted me to tell me sooner.”
His hand reaches out to my shoulder and he squeezes it while saying, “It wasn’t you I didn’t trust; it was myself. My lie wasn’t about keeping something from you to hurt you. It was about protecting you and not allowing you to carry a burden I didn’t even allow myself to carry until a year ago.”
“Are you still carrying it? The burden, is it there?”
He stares at my hand holding the pendant and answers, “Not anymore.”
“I need to call Ace and Trav.”
He stands, turns around to look down at me and hands me his phone. “I heard. I wasn’t going to comment on the face.” His finger darts out to trace my black eye, and I allow the connection being that he’s my father. “But you’ve got quite the shiner.”
“I had it coming.”
“I heard that, too.”
“Lacey,” I say on an eye roll as I stand and walk toward the house with him.
“She’s something, Hayden. Definitely not as sweet as you led me to believe.”
“She’s sweet to me.”
He stops in the driveway and looks to where his truck is parked. I note quickly that Lacey’s no longer in the house; she left as I had asked. “That’s what matters. What she is and means to you is all that matters.” He opens his truck door and climbs in. “Hope my Mercedes is in one piece; I let her drive it here.”
“Oh, fuck no, Dad.”
“Moment of weakness. She was on her way to help my son.”
I hit the hood of the truck as he starts it. “Thanks for that, and thanks for coming.”
“Make things right, Hayden. I’m counting on it. My granddaughter is coming in a few weeks. I’d like the family to be ready when she does.”
“I’ll try not to fuck it up.”
“If you do, call Bean. She’ll have something to say.”
Doesn’t she always.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Hayden
“THESE WOMEN ARE making me fuckin’ crazy. All of them. At once,” Trav complains as he throws his empty beer bottle into the fire pit blazing in front of us on the beach where we’re all hanging out. “And at what point did they start invading our lives again? I must’ve fuckin’ missed that.”
