To Live Again

by Melody Dawn

  She snuggles back against me and I fight the urge to say something. I stay quiet because I want her to take the first step in trusting me. I haven’t made her tell me the story of what has caused her so much pain. I want her to tell me on her own although the waiting has been an internal fight. I want to fix it for her, but until she trusts that she can reveal everything without the fear of losing me, I wait.

  As I pour water over her and slick soap over the body I’ve grown to love, I feel how tense her muscles are. It’s almost as if her body is warring against itself. I try to relieve that tension by massaging her shoulders and arms. I try not to, but I feel my cock harden. Shit, I don’t want her to think this is sexual. Willing my body to listen to my brain, which it isn’t doing, I rinse her off and hug her to me. She doesn’t mention the obvious hard-on against her back.

  “I fucking love you; you know that, don’t you” I ask.

  She doesn’t answer, but squeezes my arms in response.

  Maybe it is those words that help her make a decision because she says in a quiet voice, “I don’t think my parents ever really loved me. I think I was something cute for them to pull out for people to see when they wanted to present a perfect façade to the world.”

  I don’t say anything; I want her to talk without any interruptions. She leans against me harder like she is trying to become one with me. And I know this is how she is getting her strength.

  She continues and says, “Three years ago, I thought I had the best life. Sure, I didn’t always like my parents, but they were just parents…what 18-year-old likes their parents all the time? No, I didn’t have the greatest boyfriend, if you can call him that, but I just blew it off. I thought this was life. I knew I was going away to college and my life would start for real. I was so excited for my graduation, but the night it happened, I felt indifferent. I couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t on top of the world. I still don’t know why. I went to a bar on the beach called Castaways as one last night out with my friends. My best friend and her on again/off again boyfriend were there along with the douchebag that claimed to be dating me my senior year.”

  My muscles tighten as I think of any asshole that was there before me. Realistically, I know I’m being a dick because obviously no one had been before me, but just the idea that someone called her their girlfriend makes me sick. I also know I need to kick this thinking to the curb.

  She continues, oblivious to my thoughts, and says, “I say that he claimed to be dating me because we never went anywhere. We hung out at my house and watched movies, ate with my family, and he talked a lot with my dad. I had no idea that he thought this was the way to the money and prestige he wanted more than anything. One night we got into a fight because he wanted to have sex, I told him that I didn’t want to because I wanted to either wait until I got married or until I was with someone that it meant something with. That was obviously the wrong thing to say because he screamed that he had put in his time with the ice princess and it was time for his payback. When I told him he was crazy, he punched me in the stomach.”

  My whole body jerks when she says that last sentence. It was hard enough to hear he wanted to have sex with her, but to know he punched her. I feel my blood boiling.

  I grit my teeth to the point of pain and ask, “Where is that motherfucker right now?”

  Without any emotion in her voice, she says, “He’s in jail, but not for that. He was there the night at the bar. My friend, Eden, thought maybe she could get us back together again. When I didn’t go for it, he pretended to be understanding and bought me a ‘goodbye’ drink. He left not soon after that and I should have known something was up. He always had to be the center of attention so he wouldn’t have left the party first without a reason. I just wasn’t feeling it that night and I decided to leave as well. I walked to my car and on the way, I begin to feel dizzy and my head felt funny. I thought maybe the drink was stronger than usual even though I didn’t finish it. I knew I couldn’t drive so I called my mom to come get me. She was pissed off and said to wait in my car until she got there. I don’t remember anything after that.”

  My mind is shooting in all directions. I know he drugged her from the way she described it. I immediately think he raped her, but I remember she was a virgin until last night.

  I ask her in a voice that doesn’t even sound like mine, “What happened; what did he do?”

  At that question, I feel her body tighten again; I know what I’m about to hear is going to be bad. I just didn’t know how bad it was until she kept going.

  Continuing, she says, “I woke up in tremendous pain; I was extremely disoriented. There was so much noise, that’s what I remember the most is the noise. I finally figured out I was in a car accident. I don’t even remember getting behind the wheel. I woke up and I couldn’t move my arm; it just uselessly hung there. I tried to get out of my car, but I guess the door was jammed because it wouldn’t open. Someone must have called 911 because sometime later both EMS and the police showed up. They got my door open and put me into the back of the ambulance. While I was being checked out, the policeman begin questioning me about how much I had to drink, and if I did any drugs. I could barely get my mind to function enough to answer him. It occurred to me that I was in a lot of trouble. I tried to tell him that I wasn’t drunk and he said…”

  Her voice trails off and she turns towards me burying her face in my neck. If I thought she was crying hard before, that was nothing compared to this. I hold on to her as tightly as possible. I feel like a goddamned pussy because my eyes start to burn with tears. I’m supposed to be the strong one here. I tell myself to get a grip and try to think about what she needs. She doesn’t realize my turmoil and I’m glad; I don’t want to add to whatever she is feeling.

  Crying into my neck, I hear her say, “I don’t remember driving. I would have never done it on my own. I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

  Kissing the top of her head, I ask, “You didn’t mean for what to happen?” The next thing she says is something I never expected.

  She whispers, “I killed someone…a baby…and I hurt his parents terribly.”

  I don’t think I heard her correctly so I ask again, “What didn’t you mean to happen?”

  She sits up and turns to looks right into my eyes and says, “I killed a baby! Do you hear me? I ended his life at 6-months-old! All because I drank something and got behind the wheel. Yes, my drink was drugged, but it still happened because of me!”

  For a moment, I don’t know what to say to this. I hate drinking and driving. I’ve seen so many cases at the ER where I work; a bunch of useless carnage all because some asshole didn’t care that they were putting others at risk. I know this wasn’t the case with Chloe; she was a victim that had no idea what she was doing. I want to kill that fucker with everything in me. He not only ended the life of a child, but he has caused someone so wonderful to live in self-hate and anger while it slowly ate her away from the inside out.

  Instead of offering words that would diminish her feelings, I asked, “What happened next?”

  When she sees that I’m not repulsed by her words, she continues. “I was taken to the hospital. I remained there for a couple of weeks. While I was there, my parents never came to see me, never called, and they completely disowned me. I was assigned a social worker who I became close with. She visited me every day and one day she came in bringing a detective with her. He filled in the blanks for me and said I had been drugged by my ex-boyfriend. He also said that he had spoken with my mother and she confirmed that I did call her, but that she called me back, and said to stay until I sobered up. No matter how hard I think about that night, I don’t remember her calling me back. And I don’t know why I got behind the wheel; I don’t think I will ever know.”

  She looks at me and says, “Besides what happened to Alex Sterling…that is the worst thing…my parents leaving me alone to face everything on my own. I think they were afraid they might be accused or looked at in a bad light since my m
other didn’t come to get me. Either way, they left me and never looked back. All in the same day, I lost my family for good and I was arrested for the death of Alex Sterling.”

  I try to keep the shock off of my face, but I’m not doing a good job. When she sees my reaction, her face falls.

  “Hey” I say to her, “I’m not judging you. I’m just surprised you were arrested since that asswipe drugged you.”

  She shakes her head and says, “I was still held responsible for driving while intoxicated, but the prosecutor gave me a plea bargain of vehicular manslaughter with ordinary intent, which basically means that I didn’t mean to kill anyone with my car. I was also given one year of probation that consisted of mandatory court appearances as well as community service and a fine.”

  Leaning back against me, she says, “I tried so hard to make amends, J. I didn’t want the Sterling family to think I was some entitled little bitch that ruined their lives. Of course, I had to pay a fine as part of my plea deal, but I wanted to do something more that would help them. I knew with their injuries that they would need some help financially."

  With her voice growing quieter, I had to strain to hear what she said next.

  “I set some money up in a fund for them to help with their medical bills; I hope they have used it to make their lives easier to live. I honestly don’t know if they ever accepted it. For all I know, it could still be sitting in the account I created for them. I’ve often wondered about it. Maybe they thought it was blood money or a way to ease my guilt. If they only knew,” she said bitterly. “There is nothing that could ease my guilt; no amount of money in the world. I could give them my whole trust fund and I would still feel the same.”

  I began washing her back and I feel some of the tension leaving her body.

  Hoping to reassure her, I say, “I’m sure it helped them.” I know I’m being a nosy ass, but I ask anyway, “How much did you give them?”

  I hear her whispering, but can’t make it out. So, I tell her, “Say it again, baby, I can’t hear you.”

  She sucks in a breath and says in a louder voice, “One million dollars.”

  I know what I heard, but my brain isn’t wanting to process it. Before I can stop it, the words fall from my mouth, “Holy shit! One million dollars?”

  She turns to me with an annoyed look on her face and says, “Yes, Jayson, One Million Dollars! Why are you acting like I just said I robbed a bank?”

  “I’m sorry, princess,” I tell her. I just wasn’t expecting such a large amount.

  She just shakes her head and says, “It’s a drop in the bucket to me…and I’m not saying that in an asshole way…it’s just the truth. My grandparents left me a trust that couldn’t be touched until I became 18 and then I was only given partial control of it. I received full rights to it when I turned 21. It means nothing to me except that I am able to help others. I know you are probably wondering how much it is. If I tell you, you can’t get insecure and start pulling away from me.” She’s quiet for a moment and then suddenly blurts out, “$15 million dollars!”

  Covering her face with her hands, she peers at me between her fingers. I can’t help it; I start laughing.

  I start tickling her and say, “Hey, I’m not complaining; I will have a rich wife one day!”

  She starts giggling and tells me to stop tickling her and to “shut the hell up.” It was a much-needed break in an emotional story.

  To make her laugh even more, I say, “Just don’t tell Connor; he’ll be dumping Madison and trying to get you for himself.”

  She looks at me with a shocked look and says, “You have got to be kidding me, Jayson Matthew! As if I would look at your brother…”

  I try to keep a straight face, but damn, she makes it hard. Realizing I’m just teasing her, I get a slap on the arm and splashed in the face.

  We mess around for a bit while destroying my bathroom, but I don’t mind. I know she needs this distraction. After settling back down, I refill the tub with hot water and she leans back against me to continue her story. Still trying to give her my strength and understanding, I wrap my arms around her waist and hold her to me.

  I feel like I have to tell her again, “I love you…no matter what.”

  She doesn’t answer, but picks my hand up and kisses it. I feel like someone just gave ME a million dollars; I guess this means I am officially whipped…not that I’m complaining.

  Continuing she says, “So, I kept my head down for a year. I cut off all ties with my old friends. I moved into an apartment of my own outside of San Diego and got a job working in a daycare. I suppose I wanted to be around babies and young children. The director of the daycare was very understanding of my story and gave me a lot of time in the infant room. It was the only way that I could have made it through those dark days. At night, I volunteered at the Children’s Hospital in San Diego. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Seeing all of those sick children as well as those who were injured was like a dagger to my heart. But, I welcomed it; I didn’t want to feel numb. I wanted to feel every painful feeling and emotion because I felt like it was the least that I deserved.”

  With the water starting to get cold, I ask her if she is ready to get out. She agrees and I help her out and dry her off. I think I’m addicted to doing this or at least my dick is. I get us both dried off and back into my bed. I know she isn’t finished with her story and I’m not ready to quit holding her yet.

  After wrapping around her, she tells me that after her year of community service, she decided to go away to college.

  Continuing, she says, “I didn’t want to be around anyone that I knew. I had deferred acceptance to Boston University, but I knew that I would never go there. I begin looking up programs for social work and I was given information about Rice’s program from Laurie, the social worker at the hospital I was in. We also found that compared to California, tuition and living expenses were much lower. But the best thing is that Houston is super far from San Diego. So, I applied for the new semester, the spring of 2013, and waited for my answer. I was accepted very quickly and they sent all the information I needed to begin attending.”

  She starts laughing and says, “I remember the first day I moved into the dorm. I was so scared out of my mind. I knew I was going to have a suite mate and I was worried she would be a major bitch. I had decided I would be one first to make her want to stay away from me. The door flew open and there stood Madison with her whole family and what looks like enough boxes and clothes for three people. I tried to put on a bitchy face, but I’m no good at it. She ran over and hugged me like we were long lost friends and we’ve been inseparable ever since.”

  She stops speaking for a moment and I give her a squeeze just to let her know I’m still with her. In a quiet voice, she says, “She is the first person I told after I moved here. I expected her to hate me. We were sitting on the couch watching a movie and for some reason, I just told her. She pulled my head down onto her shoulder and just let me cry. It was the first time in almost two years that I felt like someone actually cared. That’s why we are so close and of course, she told me of her own struggles with certain issues and we became sisters for life.”

  Pushing her hair out of her face so I could see her beautiful face, I said, “I’m so glad you met her, baby. But, now you have me, Connor, and my parents, too. You aren’t alone anymore. You have to realize that and accept it.”

  She shakes her head and says, “I know; it’s just hard after being on my own all this time, but I’m going to try. I really like your parents, by the way. And even your brother,” she grins up at me while mentioning Connor. I feel a wave of jealousy roll through me at my brother’s name, which is ridiculous, but I’ve learned recently that I have a caveman alter ego and he comes out when Chloe is around.

  Trying not to let my feelings show, I wink and say, “I’m glad to hear that, but I’m more interested in hearing how much you love me.”

  Hearing this makes her rolls her eyes.

>   To get her back for the eye roll, I start tickling her until she is practically screaming from laughing. I can’t help but laugh because she looks like an octopus wriggling all over the bed.

  She sees me laughing at her and screams, “No sex for you if you don’t stop right now!!”

  The tickling stops immediately and she tells me that I’m so easy. I’m so glad to see her joking like this and that the broken girl I saw this morning is nowhere in sight.

  A lot of time has passed since our bath and talk and now it’s time to get up. Chloe doesn’t know it yet, but, since it’s the weekend, the four of us are going to my parents for the day. I want them to get to know her more and the same for her. I want them to be the parents that she doesn’t have. And knowing my mom, she will take her right under her wing.

  We began to get dressed and I hate whoever invented clothes. I hate to see Chloe cover up; well, I hate her covered up when we’re alone. Wanting to know where we are going, I tell her to dress casually and bring her swimsuit. When she walks out of the bathroom in cutoffs and a shirt tied up with her bikini top under it, my lust-filled brain goes into overdrive.

  She sees me looking at her and says, “None of that! I’m hungry and you said we had to be somewhere.”

  Man, I hate myself when I’m responsible.

  Getting downstairs without groping her too much, I hear the asshole’s voice ask, “SO, you two finally quit fucking? I thought it would never stop last night! I’m going to have to get some ear plugs; I can’t think of you that way, Chloe.”

  Of course, his job is done because she looks like a lobster since her face is so red. I need a new house, preferably one without him in it! But Madison takes care of the situation when she tells us that there was no way he could hear us because he was doing enough screaming of his own. Who knew my brother’s face could turn that color? I will have to add this to my memory bank of burns when he starts up the next time.

  For the first time in a while, Connor is very embarrassed. He growls at us to follow him in my truck and slams the door as he leaves the house.