We Said Forever

by James, Marie

  He turns his back to me, pacing around the massive kitchen, gathering his thoughts or trying to reign in his anger, I’m not sure which.

  “Where is your heart, Cariño?”

  “Not here,” I confess, unable to deny feelings that have clung to me like a dark cloud I can’t seem to shake.

  His shoulders fall in defeat. “He’s not coming back.”

  “I know. I don’t want him to, but that doesn’t change me.”

  “I’m here every day, taking care of you. I love and treat Phoenix like he’s my own son. His eyes light up when I walk into a room. I love his mother with every part of my being.” The monotone of his voice is filled with resignation as he turns back to face me.

  “And I love you, Julian. You know that, but I can’t love you the way you want me to, the way you deserve.”

  “So, this is it?” he mutters as his sad eyes find mine.

  “Nothing has to change.” The calm he’s exhibiting right now scares me more than the anger I was certain would be present.

  “Everything has changed. If you’re telling me I have no chance, there’s no point in me sticking around.”

  He heads down the long hall into his bedroom, and I follow, unsure of what he’s going to do, but the way he’s speaking is freaking me out.

  “Where are you going?” I ask, unable to shake the tremble in my voice.

  “I’ll go to my parents’ house until I can find another apartment or something.”

  “You can’t leave. This is your house. Give me a few days and Phoenix and I will go.”

  A long, saddened breath flows from his lips at the mention of us leaving, and the thought nearly destroys me as well.

  “The house is yours,” he says in a flat tone after a few long moments. He begins pulling clothes from the closet and throwing them haphazardly into a suitcase he’s placed on his huge bed.

  “I’m not staying in your house if you’re not here.”

  He growls in frustration. “You’re not listening to me. The. House. Is. Yours.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense, Julian. Will you stop!” I scream as he disappears into the closet for more clothes. “Fucking talk to me!”

  “You’ve said enough for both of us, Fallyn.” He shoves the last of his clothes into the suitcase and zips the top. “Like I said. The house is yours. I put it in your name after the baby was born. I didn’t want you to ever be without a decent place to live, no matter what happened.”

  “I won’t stay here.” I fold my arms over my chest and do my best to stand my ground. I can’t lose him too.

  “You need to let go of that pride, Cariño. Think of Phoenix and his future. Don’t fuck up his life to prove a point.”

  Carrying the suitcase, he shoulders past me, stopping for less than a minute to go into Phoenix’s room. Tears form anew in my eyes when he leans into the crib and kisses my sleeping baby on the head. He whispers words too low for me to hear and walks back out.

  “What about us? You and me, Julian. Our friendship?” My hands tremble and my stomach twists at the thought of him leaving without resolving whatever this is.

  “Take care of that baby, Fallyn, and forget about me.”

  “I need you in my life,” I whisper as my tears turn to gulping sobs.

  “I can’t survive with you in mine.”

  The door closes softly, the lack of sound echoing through the house. I fall to my knees, unable to hold the weight of my heavy heart, and weep. Even a year and a half later, Blaze is still ruining my life.

  Chapter 34

  Blaze

  “It’s none of your fucking concern how I got the money,” my father spits out when I refuse to take the wad of bills from his hand.

  “Heroin addict and a fucking pimp? Seriously, Dad?” I don’t know why I can’t just let it go. He’s offering to buy my pills and all I have to do in exchange is hit Bones up for his dope as well.

  “Kate loves to fuck and she loves her dope. I give her a place to get high and she pays for my shit. That’s the deal. I don’t give two fucks that she’s sucking and fucking every crackhead in Vegas to make sure her end of the bargain is kept.”

  “You make it sound like you aren’t the one bringing the crackheads with a little bit of cash into the house and shoving them at her.”

  Kate mentioned having to choose between condoms for her John’s or her latest fix, and I know which one she picked because I haven’t seen her sober in weeks.

  “What can I say?” He shrugs and looks over at Kate passed out on the couch, empty needle on the floor. “I’m an entrepreneur. I’m thinking about bringing in a few more girls. Tons of money to be made. Shit, pussy sells itself.”

  He presses the wadded money against my chest again.

  “If you don’t like what’s going on around here, you know where you can fucking go. I could easily rent your room out to five other people who’d be happy to have a roof over their head and a warm cunt to slide into.”

  “You seriously sicken me.” I take the money from his hand and shove it deep in my pocket.

  “Where are you going?” he asks when I turn toward the door.

  “To see Bones,” I mutter before slamming the door behind me.

  His taunting laughter follows me all the way down the block. I could take the money and leave, but I have nowhere to go. Not only that, but my father is one ruthless son of a bitch. He’d track me down using dope-head labor and skin me alive. I’ll never forget the stories he used to tell me about how his own father was old school mob decades ago. He reminded me on several occasions when I was a kid that he’d seen and done more evil shit than I could ever imagine. He may be a waif of a heroin addict, but the fear was planted deep a long time ago.

  I’ll get his fucking smack, my pills, then go back into my room and ignore the shitfest that goes on inside that fucking house just like I do every night.

  Bones somehow managed to get in with the right crowd over the last year. His former, seedy, back-alley drug business is on the rise. He traded junkie dealers for a couple thrill-seeking Ivy League rejects, ripped jeans and hidden drug deals for tailored suits, and a nice little place to deal in one of the more upscale neighborhoods in east Vegas.

  Once my old stomping ground, I now feel out of place as I walk down the sidewalk past fancy boutiques and shops filled with shit no one really needs but everyone seems to go crazy over. Printed leggings in the Vegas heat? Are these hoity bitches crazy? Don’t even get me started on the fucking designer handbags. The cost of one of those fuckers could keep me high for a month.

  I scowl at a group of prissy ass college students who cross the street rather than pass me as I walk toward them. I should rob one of them just to prove their opinions of me. A flash of brown hair catches my eye, gaining my attention.

  Fallyn McIntyre. Fuck that, Porter.

  She nods at the girls as they pass her on the sidewalk, and my heart stops the second I see the child strapped to her chest. I cross the street, not even bothering to smile when the rich bitches quicken their step, no doubt thinking I’m coming after them.

  My wife stops to look in the window of one of the boutiques, her spine becoming rigid and eyes wide when I close the distance between us, as if she’s seen a ghost. Her gaze finds mine in the reflective glass. Her hand rests against the front of the carrier, clinging to the baby.

  “Blaze,” she pants, not turning around.

  I know she’s trying to keep me from seeing him, but it’s too late. My mind races, recalling the man I saw her with numerous times. Dark hair and eyes—just like her. The boy she’s carrying…

  Blond, almost white hair.

  My pulse pounds in my ears.

  Bright, ice blue eyes.

  Just like mine.

  A sheen of sweat covers my entire body as my hands begin to shake even more than they were before I saw them.

  She relents and turns around, taking several steps back, putting a distance I never wanted between us.

  My
eyes remain glued to the child as he smiles, hypnotizing me.

  Tears mist my eyes as my already shattered heart cracks even further.

  “He’s mine,” I whisper, reaching out to him.

  She takes another step back, preventing me from touching the baby she’s hidden from me—the baby I stupidly assumed was The Douche’s.

  “I have a son?” I stumble, taking a less than measured step closer to them, and curse myself for being high right now. “He’s beautiful.”

  Tears stain my cheeks as she looks at me like I’m the devil himself coming for the soul of our baby. She covers the front of the carrier with her hands, the hot June sun glinting off the gold band still on her finger. The hope that tiny circle of metal gives me makes the burden of my mistakes a little lighter.

  “I love you,” I whisper, speaking to them both. Less than two minutes in front of a son I never knew I had and I love him with everything I am. It’s intrinsic, immediate, and excruciating all at the same time. Pain fills her eyes at my words. “We can be a family.”

  Her eyes harden, body growing stiffer.

  “No.” Simple, harsh, iron-clad rejection. My heart, once filled with joy over the sight of this child, chooses to defend itself the only way it knows how.

  “You’ve kept him from me. I have rights to my son.” My hands fist at my sides, urging me to take what’s mine, but I clench my jaw, steeling myself. Every day for as long as I can remember, I’ve had to fight and claw for the things I want. Taking no for an answer isn’t something I’m familiar with.

  “You want to take me to court? Go before a judge and present your case?” There’s an anxious shake to her voice, but I know she’s serious. “I’d love to do that, Blaze. You don’t stand a chance in hell of even getting supervised visitation.”

  The truth of her words hurts so bad, I use the go-to reaction I’ve had to use on the streets: intimidation. I take a menacing step toward her, and she clutches tighter to the baby. I regret the aggression immediately. It pains me to see her trying to protect him from me. That’s not how this is supposed to go. The father protects the family.

  Memories flash and I recall the same protective action the day we had our last fight, the day I chose pills over a future I didn’t even know I could have. I had to stop myself from getting violent that day. Hitting a woman is something I never thought I’d do, but I gave it more consideration than I ever should’ve that day. She covered her belly then as well.

  “That last fight. The day I left.”

  “The day you chose getting high over your wife?” The quick recall betrays her, but the resentment in her voice stings more than I ever imagined it could. I know now she continues to think about me, even if it’s in a negative light.

  “You knew? That day, you knew?”

  Her eyes dart away, glistening with unshed tears. A slight shake of her head in the affirmative is the only answer I get—the only answer I need. She doesn’t have to explain her reasoning. The lie of omission then was the only one she could’ve made.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” My jaw clenches to the point of physical pain felt through the cocktail of pain pills in my system. “You fucking knew! Do you know what I’ve done the last year and a half?”

  The drugs…the crimes I’ve committed…fuck, the women I’ve woken up with, unable to remember the night before—all of it hits me like a wrecking ball.

  “What difference does it make? You made your choice. You chose pills over your family.”

  “He would’ve made a difference!” I point to the beautiful, blue-eyed baby strapped to her chest.

  An agitated lady huffs when she has to step around us to get farther down the sidewalk and I notice several people stop to listen. I sneer at one as he holds out his phone, no doubt recording this altercation. Cognizant enough in the haze of my high, I know blowing up at her on the street would only hurt me in court if I ever manage to get my shit together enough to take it that far.

  “I should’ve made the difference alone! If I wasn’t worth getting clean for, how could I bring a baby into that situation?”

  My heart pounds, feet shifting in obvious discomfort. I know she’s right. I don’t know if the news of an unplanned pregnancy would’ve made me fight to get clean or fall down the rabbit hole faster than I already was. Being bombarded with the realization now makes my palm twitch for the weight of a handful of pills.

  “I won’t let you hurt him with your addiction, Blaze. I’ll do everything in my power, until my very last breath, to keep you from disappointing him the way you did me.”

  Her eyes tell her truth as the words ring in my head. She’s challenging me, daring me to cross her. Mother bear protecting her cub—it makes me love her even more.

  “You’re still wearing my ring.” My last attempt to grasp at straws doesn’t even register on her face.

  “And you’re not.” She takes another step back, as if readying herself to turn and run, leaving me on the street with no hope, no promise of a future with my son. “I only wear it so guys won’t hit on me.”

  She’s trying to hurt me, if it’s even possible with the heartache I’m suffering right now. She’s a horrible liar, always has been, but the determination in her eyes clouds my ability to detect whether she’s being dishonest. I want to tell her there’s nothing she can say or do that will crush me more than realizing I’m a father and she never spoke a word of it. I drop my head, defeated, observing for the first time the dirt under my nails and the stains littering my jeans. I wouldn’t want me around this beautiful child either.

  “I’m a father,” I say absently.

  “You’re a junkie,” she seethes.

  “He needs me,” I counter. Biggest joke of the year.

  “He doesn’t,” she insists. “He has me, and I love him enough for the both of us.”

  I run my hands over my head. It’s the only way I feel like I can ground myself, keep myself from blowing away in the hot breeze. “I need you too. I need what we had. I can get clean, Fallyn. I swear I can.”

  “Please don’t push this, Blaze.” She sighs, her frustration clear as day.

  “I’m going to fight you for custody.” Even I want to laugh at how ridiculous I sound, but I keep my face stern.

  “Why bother fighting for him when you can’t be bothered to fight for yourself?”

  “We can work something out. I can’t just walk away knowing I have a son.”

  “You have to. There’s no other way.” Fallyn bounces on the balls of her feet as the baby starts to fuss, and coos softly, attempting to calm him. “We need to go. Please keep yourself safe.”

  She turns to walk away, carrying every ounce of hope I let shine in the last few minutes right back into the darkness where it feels at home.

  Some kind of fucking father I am. As I watch her get swallowed up in the crowded street, I realize I didn’t even ask what his name is.

  Chapter 35

  Fallyn

  His eyes burn a hole in my back, but the sensation wanes as I put distance between us. I take comfort in knowing he’s not coming after me, but at the same time, it feels like losing him all over again. I cling to Phoenix and the decisions I made. There was no other way to handle the situation, and I have to live with my choices, knowing they were the best for everyone.

  Was it the best for Blaze? He made his choice. He made an uninformed decision, my brain argues with me.

  Fighting tears all the way back to the house, one releases just as I kiss Phoenix on the head as I lay him down for his nap. Pacing the hallway, unwilling to get too far from him, I think about the things Blaze said. I know he has no grounds for custody, but a legal battle isn’t the way druggies and criminals handle anything. Addicts have very low impulse control. They get fixated on things and act without care. It’s how many end up in jail and prison. They don’t have the patience or ability to think things through.

  In a sprint, I grab my purse from where I dropped it on the sofa and dig out my phone to cal
l the only person I believe can help me—the one man I pushed away because I couldn’t love him the way he needed. Just like every time I’ve called over the past two weeks, it rings and immediately goes to voicemail. He’s denying my calls, refusing to speak to me. We’ve been friends for over a year and a half, and he easily threw me away, tossing our connection in the garbage because I stood my ground on keeping our relationship platonic. It stings, but I should be used to men disposing of me by now.

  I hang up and call again—three times. Hissing in frustration, I leave a message the fourth time his recording insists it “better be important”.

  “Julian, listen,” I don’t try to hide the unease in my voice, “I just ran into Blaze on the street. He’s pissed that I didn’t tell him about Phoenix. He made threats about custody when I told him I wouldn’t get back together with him. I’m terrified. Please call me back. I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid he’s going to find us and take him.”

  There’s more I need to say, but the phone beeps, demanding I hang up.

  My fingers tap against the back of my phone as I take up vigil outside the nursery. I’m antsy, on edge, and alone. I wander back to the front door, ensuring the alarm is set.

  I want to call my dad, ask for help, beg for suggestions on what to do, but I know I can’t. They were all too willing to push me away after high school. News of my pregnancy made it back home somehow, prompting a call from my mother, but she didn’t call to congratulate me or share the excitement of being able to finally pick out baby clothes. She merely reminded me I was grown and not to ask for help because I was “stupid enough to get knocked up before I graduated college”. I never told them about Blaze and our non-marriage, but she wouldn’t have bothered to listen if I wanted to share.

  My phone begins to buzz in my hand and I answer it immediately.

  “Julian, thank God.”

  “I thought you said he wasn’t talking to you?” Not Julian. My former roommate and best friend, Brittney.