by Lane Hart
“Sorry,” Luke croaks. “About…everything.”
“I got the notes and flowers you left on my car,” I tell him. I squeeze the gel on a swab and start dabbing it over first the cut above his eye, then down to Luke’s busted lip, and finally, the still oozing gash near his temple. “They were sweet,” I admit to him with a smile while I work on covering the cuts. “Although you really don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
Every time I found one of the notes Luke left apologizing with a different song lyric or flowers on the front stoop, it only made me feel more guilty that he thinks he’s done something wrong when I’m the one to blame for things not working out between us. If I hadn’t hurt Luke, he wouldn’t have all the anger and hate that is destined to occasionally boil over. What I did, keeping Lennox from him, was wrong. I know that now. I just wish there was a way to fix it, that his pain would eventually heal like the cuts on his face.
“Okay, it’s time to get your shirt up so I can see the rest of the damage,” I tell Luke after I set the supplies down and reach for the hem. Since his face is so swollen and hurt, I don’t try to remove the material. Instead, I just raise it to the back of his neck.
“Jesus,” I mutter as I take in the multiple knots and reddish-purple bruises. “You need to report this to the police,” I tell him as I grab the plastic packs of ice Alex brought in and place them on the worst parts over his shoulder blade and lower back where a thick welt crosses his spine.
“No,” Luke says. “Make it…worse.”
“How much worse can it get?” I ask him.
“Don’t wanna…find out,” is his response.
“So back to my question. Have you been fighting illegally to earn money?” I ask, taking a seat on the bed next to him since there’s nothing else medically for me to do for him.
“Yes.”
“Why would you do that to yourself?” I ask. “And if that has anything to do with this, then those people are scary.”
“Won’t do it…again,” he blinks his good eye up at me and says.
“Good, because you know I can’t let Lennox see you like this,” I tell him.
“I know,” Luke replies with a sigh.
“And he’s gonna be upset when you don’t come around the next few days or so.”
“I know,” he mutters again.
“I don’t want any money from you, Luke, or your father,” I tell him. “I tore up the check he gave me because it just didn’t seem right to take it.”
Luke’s response is a growly groan, which I take to mean that he thinks he owes us something.
“If you feel obligated to contribute because he’s your son too, then fine, I can’t stop you. But at least do it gradually, legally,” I suggest.
“Okay,” he answers. “What about us?”
“Honestly,” I start while staring at my hands in contemplation. “Even if you could ever forgive me, I’m not sure that I would ever feel like I deserve it. I ruined everything that could have been, I get that now. And I’m afraid that if I keep letting things go further, like the other night, on the hope that you’ll someday care about me, that I’ll eventually lose myself. ”
After a long moment of silence where Luke doesn’t respond, I ask him, “Any other injured parts I need to look at?”
“No,” he rasps.
“Well, good. I guess you’re lucky, because I don’t think there are any broken bones. Can you see one of Havoc's trainers tomorrow just for a second opinion?” I ask as I get to my feet.
“Yeah, I guess,” he replies.
“Good. Let me know when your face heals; and in the meantime, I’ll just tell Lennox that you want to see him, but you’re really sick and don’t want him to catch it.”
“Thanks, Meg. Tell him…tell him I’m sorry.”
“I will,” I assure him, knowing it won’t be easy for either of them to be apart after they’ve gotten so close. I’m also certain that Luke blames himself for getting into this situation in the first place, especially since it now affects Lennox.
Grabbing my purse from the floor, I throw it over my shoulder and start for the door. Before I leave, I pause to tell Luke, “Every parent screws up once in a while. You’re still a great father, and Lennox will easily forgive you for this short absence. That’s the best thing about kids; thankfully they don’t know how to hold grudges yet.”
“Meg…” Luke calls out gruffly, halting my steps.
“Yeah?” I ask, worried he’s in more pain than he’s letting on.
“You’re a wonderful…mother. Not sure…if I’ve ever told you that,” he says.
“That’s not true,” I reply. “I regret lying to our son about his father every second of every day.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Luke
A week after the beating, I’m finally able to lay on my back; and that’s what I’m doing, stretched out on the bed in my new apartment. There’s no television or radio on in my room, and Alex is out, so the place is quiet other than faint sounds of lawn mowers, random cars, and dogs barking in the neighborhood.
I’ve had a lot of time to think lately. Too much time, actually, and it hasn’t done me a damn bit of good.
It’s been eight long days since I’ve seen my son. Lennox probably thinks I’ve abandoned him by now, wondering where I’ve been. Meg won’t answer my calls, so I haven’t talked to him on the phone either. The bruising on my face is in the yellowing stage, so hopefully in a day or two I can go over and try to start making up for my absence.
I practically jump out of my skin when my cell phone rings in the silence and scramble to answer it, hoping it’s Meg. Seeing Abby’s name on the screen, I’m only slightly disappointed.
“Hi, Abby,” I say when I answer since it’s still good to hear from her.
“Lucas Theodore Campbell! What were you thinking fighting illegally? Getting jumped? Oh, and not telling me you’re a daddy?”
“Hey, you finally guessed my middle name!” I tease her, trying to avoid responding to the rest of her rant about all the secrets I’ve kept from her.
“Today I finally had Senn and Mace string your boy Alex up by his ankles to make him tell them where you’ve been. You were nearly beaten to death and didn’t think to have him give me or anyone else at Havoc a heads-up?” she yells into my ear.
“It wasn’t that bad, mostly just bruises,” I lie rather than admit to her or anyone else that I had to piss into a water bottle because I couldn’t even walk to the bathroom for the first two days. Which reminds me, I need to buy Alex a new one to replace his and find a way to thank him for feeding me during that time too.
“That’s probably a good thing because I’m on my way over there now to kick your ass,” Abby tells me before she hangs up.
I go ahead and get up from the bed to try and work out the stiffness in my back and go into the living room to wait. Abby knocks a few minutes later.
“Wow, you look like shit,” she says when I open the door before her arms go around my neck in a hug. “I’m glad you’re okay, even if you’re an ass for keeping everything from me.”
“Sorry,” I tell her when we pull apart. “Where’s Eden?”
“Whitney’s watching her since she was taking a nap.”
“Well, come on in and see my new home,” I tell her, gesturing with my arm into the living room. “Alex has lived here a few months, and pretty much everything is his except my clothes.”
“It’s a nice bachelor pad,” Abby remarks while she wanders further in, taking a look around before we sit down on his black leather sofa. “So,” she turns to me and starts. “That redhead of yours is a firecracker.”
Right, Meg said Abby showed up at her place the other day.
“What were you doing at Meg’s?” I ask.
“I was worried about you!” Abby huffs. “And you were incommunicado with me.”
“I’ve had a lot going on,” I tell her.
“And you didn’t think to maybe check in with your BFF t
o see if she might have any advice to help?”
“It’s complicated,” I say on a sigh.
“Well, no shit, Sherlock. Your brother’s ex-girlfriend, who you’ve loved forever, suddenly popped back into your life and said her son was your nephew when he’s actually yours. The two of you were hot and heavy dating and then, boom, this bomb is dropped on your lap which, of course, leaves you angry and resentful toward her, but you still love her all the same. Add on top of that the fact that your father was involved in this evil plan along with your new daddy complex that kicks in where you think you have to become a provider overnight, and that’s one gigantic recipe for disaster,” Abby rants before she finally takes a breath. “Did I miss anything?”
“Ah, no. I think you’ve pretty much covered it,” I admit. “Oh, except for the minefield that now surrounds my mom if the truth were to get back to her about Lennox.”
“Right, of course,” Abby replies with a nod. “Nancy is super fragile, and you’re a people pleaser, so you got railroaded to spare her feelings.”
I frown at her insensitive take on that topic before I respond. “Since you seem to be all-knowing, how do I fix it?” I ask.
“You can’t,” she says with a wince, knowing those two words landed on me like nut kicks. “Sorry, Luke, but you can’t possibly fix what’s broken.”
“Wow, thanks for those words of wisdom,” I mutter.
“But,” Abby says. “If it’s important to you, you could demolish whatever’s still remaining. Then, try to rebuild the whole thing together with Meg one single brick at a time.”
“I don’t know…” I start since the odds are stacked against us.
“She named him after you!” Abby shouts.
“Huh?” I ask in confusion. “Lennox was only a possibility for my name, and originally I just thought Meg liked it…”
“Megan gave Lennox your middle name,” Abby explains.
“He doesn’t have a middle name,” I correct.
“Ah, yeah, he does,” she argues. “How do you think I figured out your middle name was Theodore?”
“Wait, Meg told you that Lennox’s middle name is Theodore?” I ask in confusion.
“Yep,” Abby replies while looking down at the angel wing tattoo on her wrist. “And, as a woman who once had a son, I know where she’s coming from. I wanted Thomas to also share a name with his father…because I loved Linc.”
“This is different. Meg didn’t love me when she was pregnant. She must have given him my name just as a courtesy or...or out of guilt.”
“Why?” Abby asks. “If she wasn’t intending to ever tell you about him, then why did she give him part of your name?”
“I don’t know,” I answer sadly with a shrug. “Guess you’ll have to ask Meg.”
“Or, you can ask Meg,” Abby suggests.
“Sort of hard to do when she won’t answer my calls,” I remark.
“This is probably more of a face-to-face conversation,” Abby says with a squeeze to my shoulder.
“I don’t think she wants to see me, and I need to let my face completely heal before I go around Lennox,” I explain.
“You’re scared,” Abby accuses.
“Scared of fucking things up even more,” I admit when I get to my feet and pace in front of the sofa. “You don’t know how badly I treated her. How I’ve let my anger hurt her. How much I liked punishing her. What if I can’t let that go?” I ask Abby.
Abby clears her throat and leans back on the sofa, crossing one of her legs in front of her. “Coming from a woman who doesn’t always get along with her stubborn as a mule husband, there’s nothing wrong with having angry sex to resolve issues. In fact, sometimes it’s preferred over the sweet and nice kind because it’s more passionate, fueled by real, genuine emotions.”
“Maybe, but that only works when both partners want it.”
“Did Meg tell you she didn’t want it?” Abby asks.
“The last time it happened she ended things between us; told me she couldn’t do it anymore,” I explain.
“Did she specifically say that about the sex?” she asks.
“It was implied. I think.”
Going to grab my phone from the bedroom, I scroll through the text messages until I find the right one and go back to read it to Abby.
“I can’t do this anymore. You obviously can’t forgive me, which I understand, but I can’t keep fooling myself thinking that one day you’ll change your mind.”
“That is a statement about your relationship, not the sex,” Abby surmises. “It sounds like she was hoping you would forgive her. And when it became obvious you had no intentions of doing so, she couldn’t handle being with you.”
“Yeah, and the rough sex was the catalyst,” I assure her.
“I think you’re wrong, and it’s probably how you treated her before and after. But the only way you’ll know for sure is if you talk to her.”
The before and after?
Thinking back, the blowjobs and sex weren’t really how I tried to punish Meg. That was accomplished by walking away afterward, leaving her high and dry like it meant nothing, just like she did to me years ago.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Megan
“Lennox, baby, are you sure you haven’t seen my cell phone?” I ask my son after I’ve canvassed the house from one end to another for the fifth day in a row.
“Not today,” he replies sadly while playing with his Matchbox cars in the hallway.
Using the landline house phone, I try and call it again while wandering around, listening for vibrating or ringing, but there’s not a peep. Even if it is in the house, the battery must be dead by now.
Since I don’t have any phones numbers except for my aunt’s memorized, I have to do an internet search on my laptop to get a home phone number for the Campbells to call them to see if my phone has turned up at their house. Lennox and I have been over there three times this week for dinner, and they hadn’t had any luck before, but it’s worth one last try before I have to go buy a new phone tomorrow.
“Hey, Nancy. It’s Meg,” I say when Luke’s mom answers.
“Hi, Meg! How are you and our sweet boy?” she asks.
“Good except that my phone is still missing. Any sign of it there?” I ask.
“No, sorry, hon.”
“Oh, okay. Didn’t think so, but I wanted to check before I go buy a new one.”
“Well good luck. And tell Lennox we said hi, and we hope to see him soon!” Nancy replies.
“I will. Thanks,” I say before hanging up and slumping into the living room chair in disappointment.
It’s not just my missing phone I’m depressed about. It’s been eight days since I saw Luke bruised and beaten. Lennox hasn’t been himself since then either, constantly asking why Uncle Luke isn’t feeling better yet and when he’ll get to see him again.
Why did Luke have to do something so stupid that he ended up badly hurt? Now I have to be the one who sees the pain on our son’s face each and every day until he heals and can come around.
Honestly, I expected Luke to just show up by now, and that’s the main reason I’ve been searching for my phone, to see if he’s tried to call.
And yeah, Lennox isn’t the only one who is missing Luke.
All week I’ve felt empty inside like I’m missing a piece of myself. An important piece like an arm or a leg. Now that the flowers and notes have stopped, I can’t help but wonder if Luke is finally giving up on us. It’s what I asked for, but a stupid, silly part of me hoped I was wrong and that he would want to fight for me.
…
Luke
“Hey, man. Sorry, it’s been a while,” I say to Eli as I take a seat in the grass to start pulling up the stray weeds. It still doesn’t seem natural to talk to my brother here of all places, but neither does anywhere else.
I reread the words on his gray tombstone, ones I’ve seen dozens of times before. They’ve never really held the same weight for me that they do
now.
“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.”
John 3:16, one of my mom’s favorite verses from the Bible.
I assume my parents picked it for my brother’s grave to placate themselves that while Eli may have left us all here on earth, his soul will forever rest in heaven. Whether or not I believe everything Meg’s dad taught in Sunday school and weekly sermons, I’m not sure. But now that I’m a father, I can empathize with how hard it would be to lose a son. Actually, I’m not sure if that’s true, because the idea of something horrible happening to Lennox is unfathomable. Just going a week without him has been excruciating.
“So, if you’re really up there watching over us,” I say to my brother, “I guess you’ve known all along about the night of your funeral. Maybe being away from Lennox for three years was my punishment for sleeping with your ex-girlfriend that night. But I loved Meg, maybe more than you, so no, I don’t regret it,” I tell the unresponsive granite. “Well, I do regret that it happened solely because you were gone. I wish you could’ve been here and manned up, telling Meg the truth so she could move on. With me.” Chuckling, I say, “I’d like to think that you would have ended up with Nate and even been happy for us.”
“The reason I’m here today is that I thought you should know that I still miss you and think about you, even if I don’t come here often,” I continue on. “And I was hoping maybe you could give me some heavenly brotherly advice. I mean, if you could forgive me, does that mean I should forgive her?” I ask. “God, it just hurts so damn much every time I see Lennox. He’s so freaking cute and sweet, and I deserved to be a part of his life from the moment he took his first breath.”
Blowing out a long sigh, I blink away the tears that swim in my eyes from being here, thinking about Eli and dealing with all the shit with Meg.
When another car pulls up nearby in the graveyard, I decide to call it a day. Instead of talking to the dead, it’s time for me to face the living.
