Levi Rhodes was sweet, charming, well educated, and a gentleman. We met at the library studying for finals. It wasn’t fate. We didn’t have any of the same classes or anything. I was majoring in business with a minor in music while he was going for his engineering degree. He wanted to be an architect and it suited him. He always did have an eye for old buildings. I fell fast and hard. I loved him. But we had different dreams. Mine was L.A. while his was New York. When neither of us would relent on where we saw our futures taking us, our relationship ended as quickly as it began. I really thought he’d chase after me, but when a week turned into a month, a month turned into six months, six months turned into a year, I realized we were really over. My heart was shattered, but as time wore on I picked up the pieces and moved forward with my life.
Clutching a Tennessee orange T-shirt with the University’s signature white T on the front in my fingers, I have to squeeze my eyes shut to stop the memories from rushing back. I don’t want to remember how he always wore this shirt to all the football games we attended. I don’t want to remember how he always pulled me in close to his body. I don’t want to remember how he’d smile at me and tell me that I was the only girl for him. But more than anything, I don’t want to remember just how alone I am. I don’t want to remember how afraid I am that I’ll never find a love like the one Levi and I had.
Digging a little further into the box, I find an old pair of Levi’s basketball shorts. Before I let myself feel the pain from the past, I shut the box away in the closet and make my way back to Brayden.
When I come out, I see him, a towel wrapped around his waist, the contours of muscles sculpt his back. Broad shoulders lead down to defined arms. Long, strong legs finish him off. I don’t want to look at him like this. I should be hoping he catches on fire, but more and more every day I feel myself relenting. I’m not a mean person by any means, but I have very little reason to trust Brayden. And there’s my catch twenty-two. I don’t want to be this hateful person or think awful thoughts about him, but at the same time I do. I know I said I’d let the past go and I’m trying. I’d go as far as to say we are friends. I mean he’s here, in my apartment, and I haven’t kicked him out yet. That has to say something, right?
I clear my throat and want to laugh when his muscles jump in surprise. “So, this is all I have for you to wear,” I offer. My feet carry me towards him. When he turns around, one hand clutches at the towel around his waist. I have to force myself to swallow, force myself to breathe. I’ve seen beautiful men before, but Brayden is so much more than that. From his smooth chest to defined abs, down to that ‘V’ every woman dreams about, he’s not just beautiful… no, he’s in a league all his own. His hair stands up in every which way from his fingers running through it too much. I can’t help but wonder if he even realizes that he does it. In my outstretched hand, the clothes hang limp as I offer them to him. “I uh…” My eyes roam over every inch of his body that’s visible anyway, and I can’t seem to find the words to speak. “I uh…”
He chuckles and it pulls my eyes away from his body and up to his sickeningly beautiful face. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you it’s not polite to stare?” He’s joking with me, I know that, but his words make me remember who he is and who I am.
“Actually, no she didn’t,” I say, shoving the clothes into his chest. “You did. I’m sorry I forgot.” My words drip with sarcasm as I smile at him sweetly.
Spinning on the ball of my foot, I’m in the process of storming off when my wrist is caught in his strong grip. “Wait. What do you mean?” he asks, confused.
I take a deep breath before exhaling slowly. My head turns, and I look at him over my shoulder. “You and your gang of torturers taught me early on not to look people in the eyes.”
He shakes his head like he doesn’t understand what I’m talking about. I watch his mouth open then close again and again before he releases my wrist. His face is drawn tight with anger. I’m just not sure if he’s angry with himself or me. “Karmen? I know our past is jaded, but I thought we were friends? I guess I’m just confused. But I’ll do whatever it takes to prove that I’ve changed.” His tone is loaded with conviction.
My eyes close at his words. I’m in the middle of a battle. Do I believe him? Take a chance? I’ve never been one to jump into anything blind. I was the girl who took care of her parents and myself when they couldn’t get their lives together. In school, I never did anything. I was too afraid of the repercussions. In college, I researched every aspect of my career choice, making sure I knew exactly what I was getting myself into. But now, with Brayden in front of me, begging for a chance to show me he’s a different person, I’m scared. And I feel awful because we are friends in a sense. No matter what he did to me in high school, he doesn’t seem to be that same person anymore. On the other hand, he has the potential to ruin everything I’ve worked for, everything I’ve become. But I have to take a chance if I’ve truly moved on from our past like I say I have.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” He asks, an eyebrow rises in question.
I turn around to face him and nod. “Okay. But, I wanna ask you some questions.”
His eyes turn into slits. “What kind of questions?”
“About last night. I have a pretty good idea what happened. But I’d like for you to explain it to me.” My hand finds purchase on his forearm as I silently plead for him to explain.
“You seem to have drawn your own conclusions. I’m pretty sure you’re not too far off.” The harshness in his tone makes me wince. My hand drops back to my side.
“All right. I’ll leave you to it then.” I nod at the clothes in his hand. My hands clench and unclench into fists. I can feel the blood rushing through my veins, and I hate how small my voice sounds. I hate that he can make me feel so weak in a matter of seconds. And as pissed as I am right now I also understand that I can’t make him want to talk to me. He doesn’t know me just like I don’t him, well not really. If someone I barely knew asked me to put all of the skeletons in my closet on display, I’d be defensive too.
My words stop him just as his hand touches the knob to the bathroom door. “Just so you know. I am the last person who would ever judge you.”
He doesn’t even nod or show any kind of acknowledgment that he’s heard me. I didn’t expect him to. Instead he pushes his way into the bathroom and closes the door behind him, closes the door on me.
What the fuck does she know? The angry purple bruise smattered along my jaw probably tipped her off to what’s happened all of my life. Yet, I still can’t bring myself to confirm her suspicions.
No one knows what I’ve gone through. Not even Drew, not that I would have told him anyway. He might be my best friend, but he has a big ass mouth. I don’t think he would have said anything, not on purpose at least. I know she saw my tattoo, and even though I’m not a fan of people seeing it, because after seeing it always comes questions, I’m too pissed to care. Even if she did say something, it’s not like I’d answer her anyway, not fully anyhow. It wasn’t like I could really hide it, there was no way in hell I was putting my puked stained clothes back on when I had an alternative.
My pain is mine and mine alone.
I shove my legs into some guy’s shorts, which are a little too small. My hands shake with barely suppressed rage as I jerk them up onto my hips. With the same jerky movements, I pull the shirt on and low and behold it’s too tight. To make matters worse, it’s a damn Tennessee shirt. One of my Alma Matters rivals. Fuck it. It’s better than wearing my puke stained clothes.
The way her voice sounded so small and weak when I snapped at her makes me feel like a piece of shit, but I can’t help it. I know I need to go out there and tell her I’m sorry, again. But I’m not sure she’ll even believe me. Hell, I wouldn’t if I were her. With my hands on my hips, I look up at the ceiling as I take deep breaths in and out. I take a second to calm myself down. The last thing I want to do is go out there still pissed. It’s not Karmen’s fault. My
eyes go wide when I remember the card in my pocket. Picking my clothes up off the floor, I reach into the back pocket of my jeans and pull out the card the attorney gave me earlier.
I flip it back and forth between my fingers as I recall what the attorney had to say. It wasn’t much but the words “your grandparents’ estate” flashes before me like a neon light. I need to call him but first things first. I need to make things right with Karmen. As much as I hate to admit, I’m at her mercy now, and I need her to be on my side. She holds my fate in her hands where my job is concerned.
The living room and kitchen are empty as I step out of the bathroom. Like me, I’m sure Karmen needed to cool off too. I help myself to the kitchen to make some coffee. As I rummage through her cabinets, I can’t help the grin that tugs at the corners of my lips. Everything is so tidy. All of the cups are placed rim down, in neat single rows from tallest to shortest. In the next cabinet, the spices are the same way. I shake my head and look around on her countertops to find the coffee and sugar next to the coffeemaker.
Once the coffee begins to brew, I lean forward on my elbows on the edge of the counter. I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands and try to calm the slight tremors wracking my body. I need a drink so fucking bad. My breaths come in pants as I circle my fingers around my wrist and begin to twist against my flesh. My teeth clench and unclench in hopes to take off the edge of what I crave most. The last thing I need for Karmen to realize is that I’m a drunk. For many years, I’ve used alcohol as my escape from the terrors at home.
I started drinking at some high school party. At first the burn and stench of tequila almost made me feel like it wasn’t worth it. My dad had just beaten the hell out of me and I’m pretty sure if an X-ray were performed, faint lines of cracked ribs would have showed for proof. I just wanted, needed something to take the edge off. My body wanted to numb itself from the pain that radiated from within. My heart wanted the fissure that was threatening to split my entire emotional being into a million tiny shards to be anesthetized from the pain. It wasn’t enough that my body hurt something fierce. No, he had to throw insults and life desensitizing words my way too. In the end, the tequila made everything better. It took away the pain and gave me back my ability to breathe. As numb as I felt, I also felt that I could take on the world.
My body tenses beneath Karmen’s touch as soon as I feel her hand on my shoulder. I peek over at her out of the corners of my eyes, unsure of what to say or do. I open my mouth to apologize, but I don’t even get the first word out before she beats me to it.
“Don’t.”
With dipped eyebrows, I narrow my eyes at her and she sighs. She doesn’t look at me but looks straight ahead at the cream colored wall in front of us. “Don’t apologize, okay? I overstepped my boundaries with you earlier.” Her head shakes from side to side. “I’m your boss, and it wasn’t right for me to ask you to explain your personal issues. Hell, it’s not even right for me to have you in my apartment, but since I’m overstepping boundaries and such today, I do have another question for you.” She squeezes my shoulder and chuckles at the same time.
I turn to face her, lean my hip against the counter as I cross my arms over my chest. She pulls her hand off my shoulder and tugs at the bottom of her hoodie she wears. My lips purse on their own accord, I nod for her to continue. Karmen looks up at me and gives me a sad smile.
“I don’t want you to tell me anything you don’t want to, but I need for you to answer a couple of things. So I’m going to ask you some questions and you can either nod or shake your head.”
“What kind of things?” I ask. My tone is skeptical as to where she’s going with this.
“Do you drink out of the milk carton?” She asks, her face completely serious.
I shake my head and she nods. “Do you leave the toilet seat up after using the restroom?”
A laugh escapes me and I shrug. “I am a guy so I would have to say yeah, sometimes at least.”
Karmen looks away at my answer for a second before returning her gaze back to me. “We’ll have to work on that. Do you like to watch raunchy reality TV that will rot your brain?”
“I guess it depends. What kind of raunchy reality TV are we talking about?”
“The Real Housewives of Atlanta, New Jersey and Orange County.” She smirks
“Then no.”
“Hmm…” She taps her finger against her chin. “You’re two for one. Okay, do you eat all the cereal and even though it’s empty you still put the box back in the cabinet?”
“Not that I know of,” I answer slowly and raise an eyebrow. “Are you interviewing me?”
She waves her hand dismissively in the air. “We’ll get to that in a minute. I’m willing to make a deal with you.” She reaches up and with the tip of her finger Karmen traces my bruise with the softest of touches. “I know this came from your house.” Her voice is soothing, soft, and calm. “I also know you’re a grown man now, but you’re stuck. Am I right?”
My eyes close as I look away from her. I find the couch in the small living room and focus on it. It’s nothing spectacular. The gray color is soft and muted, soothing in its own way. As I focus all of my pain on that couch, I nod my response.
“Stay here.”
Not sure I heard her right, my head whips back in her direction. “What?” My wide eyes give way to the stunned expression on my face.
“Live here. It would be temporary of course. The only thing I’ll ask you to help pay for is groceries. I want you to save up your money so you can focus on getting your own place. ”
“Karmen…you don’t mean…you don’t know what…” My head shakes from side to side.
She reaches up, places her hand on the uninjured side of my jaw, making me face her. “What don’t I know, Brayden? Huh? I know what it’s like to be treated like shit. I know what it feels like to be hated. But I also know that right now, against my better judgment, I’m willing to give you a second chance. I’m willing to give you the opportunity to get yourself back on your feet.”
“I don’t understand?”
“Because I believe in you. Because I know there’s more to you than you let on. And underneath your coat of arms I know there is a man worth fighting for even if you won’t fight for yourself.” As my eyes search her pleading ones, I can tell that she believes everything she’s just said. And even though I’m going to accept her offer, I also know somehow I’ll prove to her just how much of a disappointment I am.
In time she’ll see…I’m not worth anything in this world.
I nod. “Okay.”
“You know I would have figured you’d have more stuff to move in.”
I wipe the stray hairs that have fallen out of my ponytail away from my forehead. I collapse onto the couch, panting. My eyes scan the living room filled with not only my belongings but Brayden’s too. As awkward as it should feel it doesn’t. Empty boxes stand stacked against the wall closest to the door. His books and movies mix with mine on the bookshelf. Some of his jackets blend in with mine as they hang on the hooks near the door. Shoes that dwarf my small ones line the bottom of the closet adjacent from the front door. Never once have I noticed how empty my home looked until he added his things. He tried to hang a picture of himself taken during one of his games with the 49ers when he was going in for a pass on the wall next to the TV, but I refused. I argued how my place wasn’t his bachelor pad and that if I had to see him every day I wasn’t going to stare at a picture of him, too. Eventually he relented and hung it in his room, but not without a devilish smirk on his face.
He stayed here Friday while I went to work and, of course, that night too. Saturday night Brayden left to go pack his stuff I did some much-needed cleaning of my spare bedroom and of my soul. In one fell swoop I let go of a lost love. I cherished the last four years of my father’s life, and I let go of the mother that I never had. It was cathartic in the most agonizing way. By the time I was done, I had cried tears of immense joy and torturous pain. When I walked out
of that room, a weight I didn’t know I was carrying had been lifted off my shoulders. For the first time in years I felt…free. Free from the ghosts of my past. Free from the weight of the chains binding me to my torment. Free from the world of hate that seemed to match me move for move.
“I got rid of a lot of my stuff when I moved back,” Brayden replies. When I look over at him, he’s bent forward, elbows braced on his knees, he picks at the label of the beer bottle in between in his hands.
“Why not just put it in storage?”
His shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “I had some debts to pay off.”
I nod. “Well I must say that you’re seventy inch TV looks a lot better above my mantel than the thirty-two inch I had. And thanks to you I can actually have a TV in my room now.”
Salvage Page 9
