by K. Langston
It only takes him two strides before we are standing face-to-face. His eyes are wide, wild, and a haunting shade of brown. I know he has demons he’s never shared with me. Things that plague him. The only family he has a relationship with now is his sister, Dani, and I am convinced it is just as toxic as the shit he’s pumping into his veins.
He’s trying to make sense of my newfound confidence and it only takes a minute before he realizes I am not backing down.
Not from this.
He has one hell of a fight on his hands.
His jaw ticks mercilessly. “Don’t you threaten me, Sylvie. We both know you’re not going anywhere.”
Lifting my chin, I dig deeper than I ever have before. I love him. I want to help him but he has to help himself, too. “I’ll take her, Dean. I don’t want to keep your daughter from you but if you don’t get help we’re out of here,” I tell him with resolve.
Anger sweeps through my blood, adrenaline pounding in my ears as I shove past him and grab the keys sitting on the bar, but I don’t even make it to the door before he is in front of me again.
“You’re not fuckin’ leaving,” he grits, terror ripping down my spine.
“Yes, I am.”
His hand curls around my upper arm. “Where the fuck are you going to go? You going to run to him?”
“Dean, you’re hurting me.”
His eyes grow more wild, desperation heavy in their depths. His fingers tighten, and I know there will be a bruise there tomorrow.
“Dean, I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.” I try to wiggle from his hold and avoid his knowing stare.
“Tell me, Sylvie. Tell me you love me. I need to hear it.” The plea in his voice slams in my gut, a direct contradiction to the maddening look in his eyes.
“I—I can’t live like this anymore.”
He jerks my body hard against his. His fingers digging in deeper as he grits his teeth. “I can’t live without you. Do you understand? I won’t.”
It feels like I’ve just been hit in the stomach with a baseball bat. “Dean.”
“I’ll kill myself before I let you go.”
“Please don’t say things like that.”
“I mean it. You leave me you might as well dig a goddamn hole before you walk away and put me in it. I’m nothing without you.”
It isn’t his words that knock me backward but the conviction behind them. The desperation.
The need.
It wraps its unrelenting fingers around my heart, squeezing tight.
“You have to get help, Dean. That’s the only way I’ll stay.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes not to lose you. Whatever it takes.”
Past
Just because you marry someone doesn’t mean you know them. You may think you do, but you don’t. Not the stuff that matters anyway.
Their past.
Their secrets.
The demons they keep locked away inside.
But honestly, does a person ever really know someone? I mean, there’s what they say out loud, then there’s what they feel inside.
Only they know the truth. What’s hurting them. What eats them up at night. What plagues their soul.
No matter how many ways I try to twist it, I am living a lie. And denial has become not only my best friend but also the key to my survival. I think the day I realized that was on Caroline’s fourth birthday.
“How are you?” Rachel asks after everyone has left, leaving us alone in the kitchen to clean up.
I’ve told her about Dean’s addiction and that he is getting help, what I didn’t tell her is that he’s been diagnosed with bipolar disorder and things are getting worse. No one knows. Not even Linc.
“I’m fine,” I answer, shoving the discarded paper plates into the garbage.
I’m fine.
I’m fine.
I’m fine.
Those two words run on loop constantly in my head. I keep thinking that maybe if I convince myself, everyone else will believe it, too.
“He looks better,” she comments, looking out the window.
“He is.” I smile but it’s lie.
Dean agreed to rehab but only if it was outpatient. I agreed, thinking anything was better than nothing. At first it seemed like he was getting better. He went to all of his counseling sessions and the doctor prescribed him Suboxone to slowly wean him off the heroin.
But then he was diagnosed as having bipolar disorder.
Which explains his extreme mood swings. And so many other things. It was hard to find an antidepressant he could take with the Suboxone but his doctor finally found one they thought would work with his other medication.
However, Dean refuses to take it.
He says he doesn’t like taking them. That they make him feel helpless and weak. He doesn’t like feeling dependent on them to function, and I understand that. Who would want to be dependent on a pill to make you happy, but the truth is he needs them.
The Suboxone helps with his addiction but it does nothing to alleviate the darkness that continues to plague him.
The darkness that has begun to consume me.
What concerns me most, aside from him not taking his medication, is his relationship with Dani and the influence she has on him. She insists Dean doesn’t need to be medicated either. That the doctors are crazy and there is nothing wrong with her brother. She is a constant threat to his stability and it has gotten so bad I told Dean I didn’t want her coming around anymore. I didn’t want to do it. No one should ever have to make a choice like that, but the last thing he needs is someone dragging him back down the same black hole he’s trying to climb out of.
He’s tried to distance himself, but after all, she is his sister, and sometimes no matter how hard we try to eliminate the toxic people in our lives, they always seem to find their way back in. Because we love them and it’s just too hard to let go. Especially when you want to do everything you can to help them.
It’s been incredibly hard to be the mother I want to be as well as Dean’s wife. Both are exhausting and a full-time obligation. Not to mention I’d started working for my dad full-time because Dean quit his job in order to focus on getting better. He’s still doing side jobs but they are few and far between.
I walk over to the kitchen window, joining Rachel to watch Dean as he pushes Caroline on her new wooden swing set. He spent hours putting it together last night. He was up until well after midnight and nothing could stop him from completing the task. He was so committed to making it perfect for her, and it is in these moments I can see the man he so desperately wants to be.
He wants to get better. He’s trying so hard, but every time he takes a step forward, something or someone comes along and knocks us a step back.
We continue cleaning up then a few moments later, Dean walks in the back door carrying Caroline, giant tears streaming down her sticky face. “Oh no, what happened?” I ask.
“She fell. Charlie tried to get her Popsicle and he took her to the ground,” Dean explains, talking about the new puppy he got Caroline for her birthday.
Caroline sniffles. “Daddy, it burns.”
Dean sits Caroline down on the counter and tears a paper towel from the holder, wetting it beneath the tap while I examine her wound. “It hurts, Mama.”
“I know, baby,” I soothe, blowing on the small patch of shredded skin.
Dean presses the wet paper towel to her knee and Caroline hisses as he applies a little bit of pressure.
Once we get her bandaged up and get another Popsicle in her hand, Dean takes a seat at the kitchen table, bouncing Caroline in his lap. “You’re such a big girl,” he praises, and my heart floods with warmth when a huge smile spreads her tiny red lips.
My heart swells but quickly deflates when Dean’s phone rings from his pocket. I know right away who it is. He has a special ringtone just for Dani. Dean ignores the call the first time, avoiding my gaze and playing with Caroline, but after the second call he gives in and stands
up from the table, lowering Caroline to the floor. He walks into the living room to take the call. I’m trying to make out what he’s saying, but I can only hear the sound of his voice.
When he walks back into the kitchen, I know something is up. He tilts his head for me to follow him back into the living room. “Rachel, can you keep an eye on Caroline for a sec?” I ask.
“Sure.”
Dean is standing by the front door with a pinched look on his face. “Dani’s in trouble,” he says nervously. “I have to go.”
Folding my arms across my chest, I frown. “What kind of trouble?”
“She’s at some guy’s house and she’s scared out of her fucking mind. I could hardly make out what she was saying. I need to go pick her up.”
“Call the police. Let them go get her.”
“Sylvie, I’m not calling the police. She’s my sister and she needs my help. I’ll be back soon. I promise.”
“I don’t have a good feeling about this, Dean. You shouldn’t go to someone’s house you don’t know by yourself. Where is she anyway?”
“South side.”
“Dean—”
“I know. I promise it’ll be fine. I’ll call you as soon as I leave,” he says, kissing my cheek before walking out the door.
And just when I think things can’t get worse…
They do.
Past
Today is my day off. So after breakfast, Caroline and I spend a few hours outside on her swing set. After I lay her down for a nap, I hear my phone ringing from the kitchen. Thinking it’s Dean calling from work, I don’t even pay attention to the name on the caller ID before I answer.
“Hello?”
“Sylvie?”
“Linc?”
“Are you okay? Why are you whispering?”
I laugh, returning to my normal voice. “Sorry. I just laid Caroline down.
“Oh, so she’s asleep,” he says, disappointment coming through the line.
“Yeah, why?”
“I wanted to see her.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Linc? Are you drunk?”
“Come to your front door, Syl.” I can hear the smile in his voice.
I stop in my tracks, my heart racing at the prospect of him really being here.
“You’re joking.”
“I’m waitin’.”
I rush to the front door, flinging it open, and the sight makes me weak in the knees. “Well, are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna get your ass over here and give me a hug?”
It’s been almost a year since I’ve seen him. The longest year of my life.
Squealing, I launch myself into his arms and he swings me around, holding me tight. “God, it’s so good to see you.” He inhales deeply, burying his face into my neck.
Tears burn my eyes, the weight of the last several months settling like an anvil of truth. I’ve missed him so much. He couldn’t have known how much I need him right now. How just being in his arms makes it all seem so much more bearable.
My chest fills with warmth. “What are you doing here?” I ask as he lowers me to the ground.
“I had the bus drop me off in Delmar and I rented a car. I have to leave for the airport no later than four a.m. if I’m gonna make the show in Fort Worth tomorrow night, so this will be a really quick visit but I had to see you. I needed to make sure you’re okay.”
“You drove three hundred miles out of the way just to see me?”
“Three hundred fifty-six to be exact.” He smiles.
“Linc, you didn’t have to do that. But I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me too.” I lead him inside where he sets his guitar case next to the door and closes it. “Nice place,” he comments, looking around.
I realize he’s never been here before. Every time he comes to visit I meet him somewhere else, and now I’m glad that I had.
He looks uncomfortable here.
He picks up one of Caroline’s dolls he’s sent her, turning it over in his hand.
“Thirsty?” I ask.
“Do you have a special brew?”
“Matter of fact, I do.” I smile. “C’mon.”
We walk through the living room and into the kitchen. “I wish I had my own place,” he says.
“What happened to your apartment?”
“I bought out the last two months of my lease before I went on the road. I’m going to be living on a bus for the next six weeks anyway so I put all my stuff in storage.”
Opening the fridge, I reach for the special brown bottle. “This one’s called Lumberjack. It’s selling like crazy right now. I even like it and you know how I am about beer.”
Linc examines the bottle with the new Dawson’s Brewery logo. “This is cool as shit. When did y’all do this?”
“You like it?”
“Yeah, looks really great. It’s like the old one but…better.”
“I designed it.”
“Really?”
I nod.
“I love it,” he says again, taking a long pull from the bottle.
“Thanks. I finally talked Dad into giving the brand a face-lift. Their design was simple and effective but I thought we needed something a little more modern and eye catching. He wanted to hire a design company to do it all, but after I convinced him to invest in some graphic software and doing a bit of research, I was able to create what he wanted and still remain true to the original logo. Needless to say, he was very pleased with the results.”
“Well, look at you, graphic design, huh? Might have to get you to design my new album cover.”
I gasp. “Shut up.”
“Yep, head honcho from Milestone Records came into the Bluebird a few weeks back and offered me a deal I couldn’t refuse. We go into the studio after we come off the road.”
“Oh my God, Linc! I can’t believe it. That’s so great. I’m so happy for you!”
“I’ve been dying to tell you but I wanted to do it in person.” His arms wrap around me. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Without me? Linc, this is all you. God, I can’t believe this is happening. I mean, I can…but I can’t. Oh my God! You’re gonna be on the radio!”
Linc gazes at me longingly before interrupting the silence by clearing his throat. “I’ve been working on some new songs. Wanna hear ’em?”
“Are you kidding, of course I do!”
We’ve been outside for the last two hours. Linc has played me several songs he’s been working on for the new album. Each one different and unique but laced with Linc’s signature sound.
God, I love his voice. I’ve missed his voice. There is nothing else like it.
Lazy yet powerful.
Hard with a smooth edge.
Like a shot of whiskey.
It’s easy to get drunk off of it, just let it pull you under and drown you. You can’t help but get lost in the sound, the lyrics.
There is one in particular I want to put on repeat.
“Play it again,” I say after the third time.
We are sprawled out on a blanket I had outside for Caroline earlier, shielded from the sun by the weeping willow out back. I have the baby monitor with me so I can hear Caroline when she wakes up.
“Sing it with me.”
Linc’s head is propped up on a throw pillow next to mine, our feet pointing opposite directions. He begins to strum the melody; the bluesy acoustic sound makes my belly dip every time he leads into the song. After Linc sings the first two lines, I join in.
I’ve been down this road a million times
Tempted to cross that line
Not sure how much more I can take
There’s a damn good chance I might break.
I know it’s been hard on ya, baby, just give in to me
My heart can’t take one more night without cha, baby, give in to me
I know you wanna do what’s right but, baby, I can’t wait
Give in to me.
Every night I close my
eyes, I see you there
Baby blue eyes and long blonde hair
The years slip by and you’re still not mine
When will it ever be our time?
I know it’s been hard on ya, baby, just give in to me
My heart can’t take one more night without you, baby, please give in to me
I know you wanna do what’s right but, baby, I can’t wait
Give in to me
Give in to me
Give in to me.
As the last chord fades out, Linc twists his head, the heat of his breath fanning my face. “We sound pretty damn good together.”
I laugh. A deep belly laugh that has me rolling over. “You’re so full of shit.”
His smile falters when his eyes land on my lips. “I think you’ve written your first hit, Linc. It’s beautiful.”
The silence hangs between us like a dark cloud. Deep down I know whom that song is about, but I am too afraid to acknowledge it.
Linc’s hand drifts up to cup my cheek, brushing his thumb back and forth across my fevered skin. I close my eyes, trying to fight the urge to give in to him but it’s too hard and my body betrays me, leaning in to his touch. “Every song. Every lyric. My heart only sings for you.”
Opening my eyes, I part my lips. My heart burns in my chest. His mouth moves closer until I am drowning in his scent, his eyes, his unforgettable words. They swirl around me, twisting and knotting until my heart is a tangled web of hope and despair.
Caroline’s voice crackles over the baby monitor, sharply yanking me back down to reality. With a shaky sigh, I pull his hand from my face and push to my feet.
But my steps falter quickly when I run into a pair of dark brown eyes.
But it may as well have been a brick wall.
Dean is standing just a few feet away. His eyes narrowed, punching me in the gut with his knowing gaze. My heart thumps hard against my chest, desperate to run away.
What did he see?
Just as quickly as the anger steals his face, it’s gone. Almost like a trigger being pulled.
Cocked one minute.
Unloaded the next.
But the anger isn’t what he gives us. It is another side of Dean that frightens me even more.
The unnerving calm.
