by Monica James
I too slow down, as I’m afraid I’ll fall over my feet once I tell her who I really am. “I…remember when you asked if I knew Juliet?”
The moment I say her stepsister’s name, she stops running and spins around to face me. She slowly nods. Her eyes reveal she’s scared, anxious, and confused, and the sight, no matter how painful, goads me to go on.
Threading both hands through my hair, I come to a halt and sigh. We’re standing face to face and I’ve got nowhere to hide. “Well…I lied.”
She takes a step backward, her chest rising and falling so quickly I’m afraid she’s about to pass out. “You…w-what?”
They say the truth will set you free. I can only hope that’s true. “I lied, Maddy. I do know her.”
She blinks.
“I do know Juliet,” I clarify in case she’s misunderstood me.
“You—how?” she manages to choke out, her face turning a ghastly shade of white.
Watching the world explode before me, I confess, “I know her…because I…fuck—” I pause, placing my hands on my hips and taking a deep breath. This is just like a Band-Aid—do it quick. “I know her because I, she was—”
“Sunny?”
That one simple word, which would usually convey light and warmth, shrouds Madison’s face with nothing but darkness. I don’t need to turn around to see who stands behind me because only one vile human being calls Madison that. It’s been his nickname for her ever since they were kids.
Instinctively, I reach for Maddy, who has solidified into stone. Her entire body is taut and her heavy breathing has turned into tiny exhalations filled with pain. Her eyes are stretched wide, and she blinks once, appearing to disbelieve who stands in front of her. But when her brain processes that her asshole brother stands before her, she begins to break down.
Her body begins to tremble so fiercely, I’m actually afraid she’ll faint. As I scoop her up in my arms, I observe that her previous shade of white looked like a rainbow compared to the color she is now. I’ve never seen her so afraid.
“It is you,” the motherfucker has the gall to say. I want to cut out his tongue as Maddy whimpers and buries herself into my chest.
“Maddy, let’s go,” I whisper, looking down at the zombie in my arms.
Her unresponsiveness has me beginning to worry. Sadly, I have another worry to add to the mix.
“Dr. Mathews. What a pleasant surprise.” This surprise is so far from pleasant, and Juliet’s mocking tone reveals she loves the ugliness.
“We were just leaving,” I say, securing my hold around Maddy’s trembling shoulders as I turn around to face the Antichrist and her right-hand man.
“Oh, really? That’s a shame. I suppose we’ll have plenty of time to catch up soon.” Juliet purses her lips, her haughty gaze never wavering from mine.
I’ve never hated anyone more than I do her right now. I know what she’s implying, and it’s all my fault.
“That’s not going to happen,” I firmly state, my nostrils flaring in rage.
Maddy finally speaks, her voice nothing but a mere whisper. “W-what?” she questions, breaking from my hold and bravely facing the malevolent duo.
My fists itch as I want to slam them into Dylan’s face when he stares at Madison indecently.
Juliet’s cruel eyes flick her way, dissecting her. “Oh, Rachel didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
Juliet snuggles into Dylan’s side, which breaks his trance-like stare. He looks down at her like she’s a disease. She either doesn’t see his repulsion, or she just doesn’t care. “Dylan is moving in with me. We’re going to be neighbors,” she happily declares, revealing mine and Madison’s worst nightmare.
“When?” is all Madison can say as she sags against me.
“This week,” Dylan replies, smiling. “That means I can visit you any time I want, Sunny. Isn’t that great?” His entire sentence is dripping with a disgusting undertone, and I gnash my teeth together, seconds away from ripping off his fucking head.
I don’t care who sees, I’m going to kill him. I’ll kill them both with my bare hands.
Just as I lunge forward, Madison grabs my forearm, stopping my attack. I twist around to look at her, but she gives nothing away. “Let’s go, Dixon.”
Go? Has she gone mad? There is no way I’m leaving without her brother’s head in tow.
But when she tugs on my arm, her desperate need to escape clear on her frightened face, I push aside my fury and put her safety first. She leaps into my arms as we turn to leave this clusterfuck behind.
“Toodles. Let’s do coffee next week,” Juliet says in a singsong, her voice displaying nothing but victory.
I ignore her and tear down the walkway before I act on impulse and end them both. When we’re a safe distance away, Madison suddenly stops and rushes over to a flowering shrub, hand over mouth.
“Maddy?”
“I’m going to be sick.” With that pained admission, she bends forward and throws up the entire contents of her stomach.
“Oh, fuck.” I run to her aid, but she jars out her palm behind her, indicating I’m to stay put.
She’s sick for what seems like minutes, but I respect her wishes and wait off to the side, feeling completely helpless as I pace the cement anxiously. This is my doing. She’s sick because of me. And her brother moving into her building is because of me, too. I have brought this girl nothing but misery, and I don’t know how to make it stop.
“Madison?” I ask, flinching when I see her hunched-over form shudder. “Are you all right?”
She doesn’t reply.
How can I fix this? How can I make this all go away? The only way I know how was just prohibited by Madison.
Why?
“Maddy, why did you stop me? That asshole deserves to be put down like the dog that he is!” My anger erupts as I continue pacing the sidewalk like a caged tiger.
She slowly stands to full height, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she turns. She looks lost, scared, and utterly defeated. “You can’t! My mom will find out what happened if you fight him.”
I pull back, confused. “Who cares? She should know! She should know what that animal did to you!” If Rachel knew, then this entire shitstorm would be over with. Madison may never forgive me for lying to her, but at least I’d know she’d be safe. She’d have her mother to protect her from the monsters. And those monsters include me.
Maddy turns her face, hiding her shame. “I don’t want her to know, Dixon. It’ll kill her. I can’t do that to her.”
Without warning, my wrath ignites and I slam my fist into a tree mid-stride, a frustrated scream following. “Are you shitting me? By keeping quiet, you’re protecting that motherfucker!” My hand burns—I’m quite certain I’ve just sprained it. But I couldn’t care less, the pain feels divine.
She jolts, surprised by my reaction. “Dixon, don’t.” She looks around at the slow-forming crowd surrounding us, pleading that I don’t make a scene, but it’s too late.
I throw my hands up in defeat. “Don’t what? Fight for your freedom? Aren’t you sick and tired of being scared all the time? I know I am!” I want her to fight. I want her to prove me wrong, to prove that this won’t break her like I foresaw, because if she succumbs to her fears, then I will have no other choice—I’ll be driven to sin. I’ll be driven to sin to keep her safe.
Tears well in her eyes as she chews on her bottom lip. “I’m sorry. I-I can’t do this right now.”
“Can’t do what?” I yell, latching onto her bicep as she attempts to run—run away from me. “You can’t keep running away, Madison.”
This situation is spiraling out of control, yet I can’t stop.
“Ouch, you’re hurting me.” She attempts to pull out of my grip, but I hold on tight, afraid to let her go.
“Hey bro, let her go,” some Good Samaritan says, trying to intervene. But when I turn to glare at him, he stops, hands raised in surrender.
“Le
t me go!” Maddy cries, struggling madly to break free. But I can’t let her go. I know that if I do, she’ll be gone forever. I can’t let the only thing I’ve ever cared for walk away from me because I know, once she does, she won’t look back.
“No, not until you stand up for yourself, Madison. Stop letting him control you!” Stop letting them control me.
Her loud sobbing suddenly kicks me in the balls, and the fact I am manhandling the woman I supposedly care for hits home. What the fuck am I doing?
Quickly releasing her, my gaze drops to her tiny arm, the tiny arm which is red raw from my meaty hands pawing her. I gasp, what have I done? Looking at my outstretched palms in disgust, I realize I am no better than her brother.
Stepping forward, I beg, “Maddy, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”
“Don’t,” she wails, placing a hand out in front of her to stop my advance. Her eyes are swimming in tears and each one stabs at my weeping heart.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m a fucking idiot. I just, I hate that he has this effect on you. I hate that he still controls you.” My trembling voice is filled with desperation, but I will fucking beg on hands and knees for forgiveness.
She sniffles and lets out a bitter laugh. “So you thought you’d do one better and control me instead?”
“What? No, I would never,” I gasp, clenching my palms into fists by my side. “That was never my intention. I’m sorry. I fucked up. Please, just come back to my place so we can talk about this.”
I want to step forward, but I don’t.
When she doesn’t reply and simply looks at her sneakers, unable to bear the sight of me, I crumble. “Please, I’m sorry. I truly am.” If I’ve ever felt this afraid, then I don’t remember when it was.
The air is weighed down with a miserable silence, and I know what her response will be before she even says it.
“I can’t do this right now. Goodbye, Dixon.” Those concluding words break the final piece of my heart.
I swallow hard. “Goodbye? Maddy, wait! Please!” I lunge for her desperately, but she steps out of reach, shaking her head.
“No!”
This is not the end. No, not like this. “Please, let me explain.” I’m ready to tell her everything. That option is far better than her believing I thought she was a coward for not sticking up for herself. “There’s a reason why—”
She cuts me off, angrily retreating further and further away. “I said no! Just leave me alone. I need time to think.”
“Think about what?”
“About everything. About my brother…” She leaves the sentence unfinished, a fresh set of tears spilling down her cheeks.
Her withdrawal kills me. I plead, “Maddy, no. Don’t do this. Please, angelo. I’m sorry.”
But my apology is not enough. “Yeah, so am I.” With that she turns, and just like I predicted, she doesn’t look back.
8
Actions of the Heart
DIXON
“Hi, it’s me…again.” Pause. “I…I’m sorry…again. I know there aren’t enough ways for me to say sorry because what I did…” Pause again. “What I did was unforgiveable. I hate myself for putting my hands on you that way, and I would happily cut them off if it meant you would at least acknowledge me—” The loud beeping in my ear and the patronizing voice alerting me that Madison’s voicemail is full just cements the fact that she will never talk to me ever again. Honestly, I don’t blame her.
I fucked up.
There is simply no other way to phrase it. I fucked this entire thing up, and I didn’t even tell her my most vilest secret. By trying to save us, I pushed her away and now, after day three, her silence says it all.
I’ve tried emailing, calling, texting, driving by her home on the off-chance she’ll walk by. I’ve even resorted to camping out at her place of work, hoping I’d catch her there, while ignoring the glares of her best friend, but nothing. It’s like she’s dropped off the face of this earth, which worries me.
I know she’d never do anything silly, but this disappearing act just confirms she’s making herself scarce because she doesn’t want to be found. She doesn’t want to be found by me.
I can’t let it end this way. Next option would be to contact Rachel, but I can’t guarantee I’d be able to keep my mouth shut as to why we argued in the first place. Groaning, I rub a hand down my face, my long whiskers prickling my hand.
A knock at my door reminds me that I’m at work. I need to pull it together. “Dr. Mathews?”
“Come in, Ms. Vale.” Ever since this debacle started, Susanna has been hovering. Usually, I would find this annoying and if it were anyone but her I’d fire them, but I know she has my best interests at heart.
“What can I do for you?” I ask when she enters but doesn’t fully step inside.
“Dr. Turner will be here soon and I just wanted to ensure…”
My brow furrows when she pauses and looks away. “Wanted to ensure that I hadn’t forgotten? Or that I’m wearing pants?” I finish for her, as these are all plausible concerns.
She smiles, stepping in. “Well—” she tugs at her pearl earring nervously “—yes.”
“All is well, Ms. Vale. See?” I stand to reveal I’m properly clad.
She quickly shakes her head, appearing apologetic for hinting at such a thing. “I’m sorry, Dr. Mathews. I didn’t mean to imply you are—” She uneasily pauses once again.
“Losing it?” I offer with a grin as I take my seat.
“May I be frank?” She steps forward, her wise eyes zeroing in on me.
“Well, I think Susanna is a lovely name, but if you wish to be called by another, I’d gladly comply,” I tease, attempting to hide behind my humor.
She ignores my quip. “Since you’ve taken up with Ms. Roberts, I’ve noticed a change in you. A change for the better. I know this is highly inappropriate, with you being my employer and all, but she brings out a side of you I’ve not seen. She makes you a better…” Today seems to be the day for noncommittal sentences. When I lounge back in my seat, she suddenly appears guilty for saying too much.
I put her out of her misery a moment later. “Man?” I suggest. When she casts her eyes downwards, I know that’s exactly what she intended to say.
“Excuse me, Dr. Mathews, for speaking out of line.”
“Nonsense. You speak the truth. You’re right. Before Madison, I was a selfish bastard with no respect for anyone, not even myself. But she’s made me see the error of my ways. She’s the strongest person I know. I just wish she saw that.” I sigh, feeling the weight return to my belly.
“So what do you intend to do?” she presses gently.
“I’m moments away from setting up camp outside her door. The police can haul me away, but I need her to know I’m sorry,” I confess, feeling utterly helpless.
“Have you thought that maybe you’re going about it the wrong way?”
My head snaps up. “What do you mean?”
“Maybe the reason she isn’t listening is because she doesn’t want to hear you say sorry, but rather, she wants to see it,” she ambiguously reveals, like I’m meant to know what that means.
“How?”
Her lips tip up into a small smile. “I don’t know, Doctor. You’re a smart man, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
I’m glad she has faith in me because I have no idea what she means. But I’ll be damned if I can figure it out.
As I’m pondering her statement, Ms. Vale softly says, “Seeing as we’re ignoring the rules of social etiquette…your mother would have been proud of you, Dixon. I know she’d also love Madison.”
The mention of my mother and Madison in the same sentence is really too much and, like a pussy, I quickly wipe my eyes. “I think you’re right. My mother would have loved her. It’s too bad she isn’t…here,” I add a moment later. The wheels suddenly begin turning.
I’ve got it. Ms. Vale was right. The problem is I’ve been approaching this the wrong way.
Words mean nothing if they’re not backed by actions of the heart.
Rising hastily, I rush over to Susanna and smile. “This is highly inappropriate, with you being my employee and all, but I’m afraid words cannot express this.” Catching her completely unaware, I step forward and enfold her in a hug.
She stands stunned, but moments later, she hugs me back.
“Thank you, Susanna.”
“My pleasure, Dixon.”
We break apart before it gets too weird, and she smiles. “I’ll see to getting your coffee before Dr. Turner arrives. Did you want soy milk, too?”
“Too? Chad wants soy milk?” I ask, pulling a repulsed face. When did he turn into a tree-hugging hippy?
She nods. “Yes. Apparently he’s watching his waistline.”
No doubt this new craze was inspired by the harpy, Rebecca. “He should be more concerned with watching his wallet.”
Susanna bites down on her bottom lip to hide her smirk. “I’ll page you once he arrives.”
When she leaves, I return to my desk, hunting through my drawers for a loose piece of paper. Reaching for my ballpoint, I start doing something neither I nor millions of Americans have done in a long time—I write a letter.
Dearest Madison,
Words cannot express how sorry I am. I understand you’re mad at me. You have every right to be.
If you can find it in your heart to give me another chance, please meet me at this address this Sunday at 2 p.m.: 678 Easton Ave, New Brunswick, New Jersey.
It’s time I show you how I feel, rather than tell you.
I hope to see you there.
Dixon x
Just as I sign it, Susanna pages me, alerting me to Chad’s arrival. I place the letter in my drawer just as the door opens.
“Dixon.”
Chad Turner is a busy man, as he’s on the Psychiatry and Behavioral Sciences board. He’s usually not one for social visits, so I can’t help but wonder why he’s here.
Standing, I extend my hand. “Nice to see you, Chad. You’re looking well.” I can’t help but mock.
