You were right about me. I can’t be saved. I am broken. And it’s not fair to ask you to look past all the things I did. Mia, you are the closest thing to an angel, but I can’t ask you to forgive me. I’m not worthy.
You will find someone who is good. I’ll still want to break his face, but he’ll never hurt you like I have.
I will never find anyone as good as you.
I will never love someone like I love you. Never. There’s no one like you, Mia. No one.
But I’m not sure what we have is meant to last forever. It’s too intense. That’s why people write about it, to capture something so wild and fleeting. What we have makes us crazy. It makes us do things we would never do otherwise. I can live with being a monster, but I don’t want to make you one.
I’ll never be able to make up for the pain I have caused you. And I will mourn our child until the day I die. That was it for me. Only you would be the mother of my child. You would have been such an amazing mother to our baby. You would be the mother I used to wish for as I hid under the table from my drunk father.
I have taken so much away from you.
But I am giving you what I can: a new life and your other baby.
You are the best fucking thing, babe.
Tax
I flip through the stacks of papers behind the letter, using my forearms to wipe rogue tears from my eyes. It’s hard to see the text as I gasp for air. He can’t leave me. He’s all I have. He keeps saying I’ll find someone else, but there is no one else. It’s him.
I scan the documents: My house has been fully paid off, the deed to his condo signed to me, a document declaring me the new owner of Alea for the sum of $1, a new bank account in my name. I crumble the stack and throw it onto the floor, sobbing his name. Tax thinks somehow his value in my life can be replaced with dollars. But he doesn’t understand I forgave him the second that bullet pierced my womb. Holding onto hate is what has gotten us into this mess. We were just starting to get it right. He can’t give up on us now.
“Where is he!” I scream at Rex who watches me from the corner of the room. “Tell him I love him. Tell him I don’t care. He’s not making it better. We can start over,” I cry.
Rex can’t even look at me. “I’m sorry, Mia,” he says, battling to keep his composure. “I’m sorry.”
“What about you? Am I never going to see you again?”
Rex smiles a bit. “You know Tax will always have eyes on you. I’m his eyes.”
“I don’t think I can do this...” I say, hugging the letter, the last piece of Tax I have left. “I know you know where he is. Just tell me...” I plead.
“Mia, I don’t. He’s gone. I communicate with him through attorneys,” his cheeks flush red as he holds in tears. “I’m gonna miss him too...”
Rex walks over and sits on the bed beside me. “He’s never going to forgive himself for what happened to you. I’ve never seen him the way he was when we drove you to the hospital. He’s doing this for you.”
“He’s doing this for him,” I sob. “I forgive him. That’s all that should matter.”
“Mia, he’s made his decision.”
“What about me?” I feel like I’ll die. I can’t take anymore devastation. “I can’t do this. I’m all alone.”
“Me too,” he says.
“What happened to Jude?” I ask.
“I can’t—” Rex’s lips flutter as he pushes out the words. “Thank you for talking to the police. They saw the messages on your phone from Tax, trying to get a hold of you. Combined with your statement, it looks like for now anyway, they believe what happened. For a while they were pushing for some sort of connection. Like we put her up to it or some shit.”
“I just told them the truth. Thank you for saving my life.”
“I wish I had seen it coming.”
I shrug. I have learned by now, that wishing for things to have turned out differently is the greatest form of torture.
“So it’s you and me? The Draconis just march in and out of our lives. We’re just left in shambles.”
Rex nods, looking down to the floor.
“I’ll never accept this. I won’t live in this purgatory.”
“I know,” Rex says. “I’ve gotta go. But if you need anything, you call me. I promised Tax I would take care of you.”
I barely nod. All this time, I wanted to open up Tax, make him the man I knew he could become. He has grown into everything I ever knew he could be.
And now the cruel irony is I can’t be with him.
Everything seems normal on the outside. It’s how I have always operated with loss. Don’t let people see the pain. Don’t inconvenience others with your sorrow.
When my mother died, I came back to school a week later, all smiles. No one saw how I cried myself to sleep for three months.
When my father passed, the service was on a weekend, and I was back at work that Monday, burying myself in work and the company of others so I wouldn’t have to think of the loss.
And this year, as soon as I could get back on my feet, and against my doctor’s wishes, I went back to Alea. My other baby. I worked days so long that people swore I never left the office. I couldn’t stop. If I did, I thought I would cave from the emptiness.
I haven’t spoken to Rex since he delivered the package in the hospital. I am sure he monitors me, but I don’t look around for him. He’s too much a reminder of Tax, and I can’t bear it. Remembering hurts.
If it wasn’t for Tiff, I don’t know how I could have made it. She doesn’t know Tax killed my father, or that he had plans to kill me. I don’t want to tell her that and then make her keep that secret. That’s too much of a burden to ask of someone who has already done so much for me.
I am pretty much healed physically. I can run again. And I am seeing a specialist to see if there is any hope for me to have children. But it doesn’t matter, because Tax isn’t here. It was supposed to be us.
I’ve tried. God, I have tried so hard. I’ve gone on a couple of dates, only to cut them short, go back to Tax’s condo, and sob.
Every morning, I look at the surgical scar on my pelvis, and I remember the void. The desolation.
After Tax left me, I went through all the stages of grief. I was angry for a while. Sometimes I was so angry, I would stop by his place and punch his pillows, or throw his books across the room. Those shallow tokens were all I had left of him. I didn’t have the privilege of a face to face confrontation.
Sometimes after I lost it, after books and pillows and sofa cushions were splayed everywhere, I would collapse and grab the nearest thing and hug it. I would clench it tight, and close my eyes, and pretend that somehow this extension of him meant he was still close. The tears would meander from my pursed eyelids, and I would let them fall onto whatever I was holding. A part of me joining a part of him just one more time. I was surrounded by vestiges of Tax: his furniture, his books, his bed sheets, his artwork, and yet I couldn’t grasp him. Without Tax, the penthouse he left me was hollow. He left me. He fucking left me.
But what he did is why I will always love him. It’s the reason why I can truly forgive him.
Shortly after Rex dropped off Tax’s letter, the cops found Jude. She had gone back to Clint and committed suicide. I know she didn’t. I could tell from the pain in Rex’s eyes when he visited me in the hospital, that he knew she was already dead. I know what Tax did for me. And I know that’s another reason why he won’t see me. He loved his sister. Seeing me will always be a reminder of what he had to do. Jude’s story is a tragedy too. I remember the tiny, dark haired girl who followed her brother around, looked at him with admiration in her eyes. So much was taken from her, including her soul. I wish Tax hadn’t killed her. I would never have asked him to do something so painful for me or our baby. That’s Tax though. He’s a good man, but he’s still bad.
He’s light and dark, forgiveness and vengeance, beauty and ugliness. He’s all those things. My beautiful savage. And even savages protec
t their young.
Today, I decided to call Rex and ask him for one favor. Just one. Because I can’t keep living this lie. Going to work, having all this money, the homes, when I all I do is die inside a little more every day.
There’s no one like Tax. And I can go on dates every day, scour the world for someone else. But they won’t be even close to him. I tried to honor his wishes and move on. But, he’s wrong. He’s so fucking wrong.
We defied fate, who stepped in long ago and did everything in her power to keep us apart. Like two comets headed for a collision, our trajectory could not be stopped. We kept finding a way back.
Every choice, every kiss, every subtle nudge was destined for our inevitable impact. Fate thought she was pulling us apart, when all along, she was setting the path for spectacular crash. An eruption, a nova, a big bang, a constellation—That’s what we are. We are the thing of beauty created from catastrophe. We are the light burning bright, forged from an impossible collection of coincidences.
I won’t let all this death and destruction be for nothing. I won’t just let us be a pointless catastrophe. We will be the swirl of stars that is born from the disaster.
My doorbell rings.
“So good to see you,” Rex says, giving me a big hug. His hair isn’t black anymore, but his natural strawberry blond with a light beard to match.
“I’m sure you’ve seen me more than I’ve seen you,” I say with a smile.
Rex winks.
“You look real good Mia.”
“Thanks, so do you. I love the hair.” Just as I say that, it dawns on me that he had been coloring his hair to be more like the Draconis. Rex has become his own person.
“Thanks,” he smiles. “So what’s up?” he asks.
“I need you to do something for me.”
“Anything.”
“Give this to Tax,” I say, handing him an envelope.
He looks down and it and sighs. “Mia...”
“Just do this for me. Please. Take the heat. I’m not asking to see him. Just give him this.”
“Okay,” he nods. He heads for the door and then turns around.
“Mia, he’s never forgotten you. I know it seems like maybe he moved on. But, you are all he cares about.”
“I know.”
Ray LaMontagne – Empty
Rex visits me here in Miami once a month. We try to go about things like nothing has changed, but nothing is the same. He and I are all we have left and yet we are barely holding on. I try to live like I did before Mia came along, in that state of comfortable numbness, but Mia tore me wide open. I can’t turn it off.
Rex and I don’t talk about what happened to Jude. He knows it had to be done. And I can’t even bring myself to utter the words about that night.
All I ask is that once a month he tells me in person, that Mia is okay. Just one or two sentences about how she’s doing. It’s all I can handle hearing about her.
Anything more, and my willpower will break.
So this morning, when he shows up to my house with a letter from her in his hand, I’m not happy.
“What is this?”
“Bro, she wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
I almost laugh to myself, feeling nostalgic. I know exactly what he means. Mia’s so fucking persistent. Just as quickly, I stop myself from remembering her: forget her dissatisfied pout when I say no, her laugh, the taste of her tears on my lips, the feel of her skin on my fingertips.
That’s how I survive.
I survive by trying to forget: The quiver of regret in my sister’s voice as she realized she had killed her niece or nephew. The blood. Mia’s blood swirling down the drain. No matter how many times I scrubbed, I would find it hiding somewhere. The Draconi curse: both Jude and I will never have children. Because Mia was the only one I could ever imagine that with.
But I can’t forget.
My dreams are out of my control. And Mia visits me in them. I smell her subtle flowery scent, feel the curves of her body against mine, the wisps of her breath from her moans into my ear.
So many times I have picked up the phone and stared at it, just one button away from calling her. I can’t tell you how many phones I have shattered, throwing them across the room to stop myself.
I wish I didn’t love her. Because it would be so easy to go back to her. But I can’t face her knowing what I have done to her. Seeing her will always remind me of what I did to her. She’s moving on. Rex tells me she goes to Alea every day, that the company is growing at lightning speed. She’s not with anyone, but I know she’s at least tried. And I know I am still a selfish asshole because the thought of her even going out to dinner with someone else makes me want to break shit. Namely, the guy’s fucking mandible.
Anyway, she’s finally flourishing without me. She’s getting over me like I knew she would. I was a dark cloud, and I blinded her from seeing any other possibility for herself. Getting the fuck away gave her the space to see beyond me and into a future where she doesn’t have to hurt. Because parts of me have changed, but other parts never will.
I will always be the man who makes her beg, who inflicts pain in order to give pleasure. I’m broken and dirty. I don’t think Mia can receive that anymore, knowing that the first time we ever fucked, it wasn’t the acting out of a fantasy. It was real for me. I was going to kill her.
But then there’s this letter. It’s staring at me. I could toss it. But a piece of Mia is in there. The right thing to do is shred it. Don’t let her get into my head. That’s why I had to leave like I did. If I saw her, she would have pulled me right back in. The only way to quit Mia is cold turkey.
But opening this letter could be like having a piece of her, even if it’s just in writing. Maybe it’s her saying goodbye, or that she’s moved on, or telling me to go to hell. Then I can have that peace of mind.
I grunt as I grab the letter opener, tearing through the cream-colored envelope and heading to the balcony to read it.
Dear Tax,
I don’t know why I chose today to write this letter. It’s been 330 days since I last saw you. I could have at least given it the full year. But, I’ve already waited too long.
I’ve lived a charmed life with some pretty shitty days peppered throughout: The day my mother died, the day I was shot. Hell, the day I first faced you in the conference room. Then there was the day I found out our baby was gone.
But without a doubt, the worst day of my life was the day I read the letter telling me you wouldn’t be coming back for me. Because that was when I lost all hope. All this pain and tragedy had to be for something. But then it was all gone. It’s like a tornado came through my life, ripping it to shreds, and then I was left sitting alone in the silent aftermath. Every morning, I wake up and try to pick up pieces of my shattered self. You were supposed to sweep me away with you, but you left me behind.
I bet Rex reports to you about me, and tells you everything looks good. I’m sure it does. I’ve mastered hiding in plain sight.
But Rex doesn’t know about the nights where I hold your sweatshirt in your bed and cry myself to sleep. He doesn’t know about how I run my finger over the scar left behind from the shooting and wish you were here to help the indescribable pain go away. He doesn’t know how I dream about you coming into bed and wrapping your arms around me, turning around to see your tattoo, and knowing I’m safe in your arms. Only when I reach out for you, you vanish.
Sometimes I go home and leave the lights off, hoping you’ll come out of the shadows like you used to. My dark knight. My angel of darkness.
It hasn’t gotten easier Tax. It never will. You said you wouldn’t leave me. But here I am, all alone.
I never had the chance to tell you that after you left when I said all those things to you, I took the pregnancy test and learned I had a piece of you inside of me. I was going to call you and tell you I wanted to make it work. That I could forgive you, because my father made a terrible, evil choice. But I never got to really say those t
hings. Sure, we said our goodbyes in the car on the way to the hospital, but I wanted you back before I ever thought my life might come to an end.
So every day I wonder if my words made you leave and never come back. That even though I said I didn’t mean them, you thought those were just the last words of a dying woman.
Well, I’m still here, and I meant every word that I said.
I heard the promise you made. About leaving if I survived, about letting me have a normal life. I know you think this is some sort of penance, that you are punishing yourself for the wrong you have done. I know you are making yourself pay. But why do I have to pay? Living without our child is enough, why do I have to also live with the pain of being abandoned by the man I love?
My life is a flat line, I go through the checkpoints everyday: wake up, run, eat breakfast, go to work until I can’t keep my eyes open, go home. Rinse. Repeat.
There is no color, no scent, no taste.
I miss your savagery and your tenderness. You understood what I needed, and I hope I did the same for you.
Sometimes the ache is so strong, I can’t breathe. Even at Alea, sometimes, I have to lock myself in a bathroom stall just to pull myself back together.
I don’t just mourn our baby every day, I mourn you too. I lost you both so quickly. I never even got to say the things I wanted to say. It’s like you died with our child.
None of the past matters anymore, because I love you and I will never stop loving you.
You left me with money and things, as if they could ever replace you. You cannot be replaced, ever.
I’m begging you, please come back, please hold me, please fuck me, please love me again.
I can forgive you for everything, but I can’t forgive you for never coming back.
Debt Page 34
