Salvage

by Tiffany Aleman

  I look away from him and his sympathetic eyes to stare out at the almost empty bar. “Yeah well, my dream was snatched away from me in the blink of an eye. And I didn’t ask to be anyone’s hero or idol.”

  “True, but that doesn’t mean that it didn’t happen,” he says. “But maybe you were given the opportunity to have a new dream.”

  “You know for a bartender you’re awfully deep.” I laugh as I turn my attention back to him.

  “See that’s what I’m talking about. Owning a bar was my dream and now I’ve lived it. Being a bartender isn’t all there is to me. I have three great kids and a wife I can’t see spending the rest of my life without. I have friends that I know if I needed help they’d come running, no questions asked.” Rick reclines back on his elbows against the edge of the bar opposite of me. “My new dream is to take my wife on the journey of a lifetime. I want to take her all over the world because that is her dream. A dream that she’s put on the backburner to support me and raise our kids. Her dream has become my own because I love her. You need to find a new dream, Brayden, or else when you grow old, you’ll have no one will be by your side.” He laughs. “Fuck, even Drew is married. He’s found his other half. Have you?”

  My dream has always been football. But Rick’s right. That dream went up in smoke. And now here I am in a bar with no one but a bartender to talk to. There’s no gorgeous woman by my side. No home to call my own. No kids to greet me as I walk through the door. As soon as my career ended so did the one-night stands with models and actresses. Some of them I could have attempted relationships with, but football always came first. Looking back, I’m glad that I never invested my heart in a woman back then. When the fame and money ran out they did, too. It’s just the way it works in that life, in that society.

  I raise a finger in the air signaling another drink and Rick doesn’t disappoint. I also know that if I get wasted again he won’t hesitate to kick my ass out and ban me for his bar. The smooth whiskey glides down my numb throat, and as it settles in my stomach, I think back to Karmen. She didn’t have to let me move in with her. She didn’t have to give me a job, even if I would have gotten it anyway. She hasn’t had to treat me with respect or befriend me. Do I have a new dream? No. But I’m working on one, and it involves a sexy as sin brunette that I live with.

  The faint slamming of a door pulls me from sleep. My elbows dip beneath my weight of the pillow-top mattress. I look around my darkened room. A sliver of light peeks in through my blinds. I push myself up and crawl to the edge of the bed where I sit. Vaguely, I recall Brayden leaving earlier. As I look at the clock and see that it’s barely after one in the morning I can assume why he’s been out so late. I’m betting on that he was drinking. But there’s this voice of self-doubt in the back of my head that says he might have been out with a woman. I’d be delusional not to think that he doesn’t engage with other women. I mean he is a man after all. He has needs.

  Not that I’d know about needs. My needs. I laugh that thought away. It’s been years since I’ve been touched. Hell, the kiss Brayden and I shared earlier is the most action I’ve seen since Levi. Five years too long. As soon I left to come home, I knew we were done. My lips still tingle from earlier. It reminds me of the passion behind the kiss the drunken man outside of my room bestowed upon me earlier. I shove myself off the bed and go to inspect what kind of damage Brayden has caused.

  It doesn’t look as bad as I thought it would. But what I do see is almost comical. A shirt lays haphazardly on top of the lampshade casting my living room in a green hue. There’s one shoe in front of the door another, behind the couch where an incoherent giant lies snoring in his boxers. His pants are down around his ankles and one sock hangs off his foot. I cover my mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Even though something tells me he wouldn’t hear me anyhow. I’m drawn to the way his lips move as he breathes in and out of his mouth. What I wouldn’t give for one more little taste, a taste I know I’ll deny myself. It’s not fair to him for me to lead him to believe there may be more to this—to us than there is. I still don’t fully trust him, not with my heart at least. And that’s something that can’t be ignored.

  I’m drawn away from his lips when my eyes scan over the detailed designs marring his muscular chest. I’ve seen his tattoos but never paid much attention. The last thing I wanted was something else to draw me to him. Crooked, jagged roots trail up from his rib cage and onto his chest into a trunk that splits in half. Branches spread up and out over his pectorals. One-half is alive and colorful with dark browns, subtle grays and vibrant greens with light pink blossoms sprouting from each branch. The other half starts out with black that leads into muted gray. The branches hang, limp, with no life, no blooms in sight. The shades of blacks and grays blend together to form a sad yet hauntingly beautiful image. The tree is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. When I lean in for a closer inspection, I notice the numbers three-four-eighty-eight look to have been engraved in the bark of the trunk on the alive half of the tree, the numbers written in white. Although the numbers have no relevance to me, they must have had an impact on him. This piece of artwork is simply somber and depressing and elegantly amazing at the same time.

  Without thinking, I reach out with the tips of my fingers to follow the path of the complex design. Brayden’s skin is warm and smooth to the touch. I watch goose-pimples break across his skin in the wake of my touch. The pads of my fingers skim over areas of raised flesh. Some feel as long as two inches and as wide as the width of a belt. Tears prick the corners of my eyes as I blindly feel along scar after scar. I have to force myself to swallow over the lump lodged in my throat. Such a beautiful body defaced by terrorizing scars. Cautiously, I pull my shaky hand away only to step back and away from his sleeping form. The last thing I need is for him to wake and find me touching something that is obviously sentimental to him.

  Seeing as how the last time we were together was a disaster, I leave Brayden where he lay. Instead, I carefully pull off his socks, then his pants. After retrieving him a blanket from the linen closet and a pillow from his bed, I tuck him in. Knowing that tomorrow he’ll have a killer headache, I go to the kitchen, pull out a bottle of water from the fridge and get the bottle of ibuprofen. I walk back over to him and sit the contents down on the cocktail table in front of him so he’ll see them in the morning. Thoughts plague me as to why he went and got drunk while I pick up his shoes and shirt and toss them into the laundry room.

  I’m not vain enough to think it had anything to do with the way I ran out on him after the most intense, amazing, hypnotic kiss I’ve ever shared with another man. Maybe there’s more to it than that. I rush to the nightstand next to my bed and with trembling hands dial the one person who I know will help me understand what’s going through my head.

  “Somebody better be dead.” Tammy’s scratchy voice filled with sleep seeps through the receiver.

  “I am so fucked right now.” It’s a harsh whisper. I knew it was true after that kiss, but now after seeing his tattoo and feeling his very personal scars, a million jumbled thoughts run through my mind.

  “What?” Tammy shrieks. I pull the phone away and rub at my now damaged ear. “So help me God if you’re in jail I’m going to hang up on you.”

  I’d laugh, but I know she’s not joking. “Hold on one second.” I shut the door to my room and climb up on my bed. Hugging a pillow to my chest, I settle in. “First off, jail, really?” I ask incredulously.

  “Stranger things have happened.” And I can picture her rolling her eyes at me.

  “I have no idea what you mean.” I know exactly what she’s talking about.

  Mexico.

  “Yes, you do. Mexico.”

  When I got my tongue pierced.

  “When you got your tongue pierced. They told you no kissing or anything like that and you still…”

  “Made out with that one guy at Señor Frogs.” I roll my eyes in response. “Yes, I remember.”

  “Yeah? Do you re
member when you made my drunk ass drag you to the emergency room because you got that shit infected?”

  I laugh at the memory. I’ve never been the most spontaneous person, but Mexico can make you do things that you’d never think to do. “Yep. I talked funny for a week and you made fun of me the whole time.”

  “I sure did. That was so funny.” She laughs.

  “Okay, enough laughing at me because I really need you right now.”

  “Where are you?” I can hear the rustling of sheets and Ray’s voice in the background asking what’s wrong. Though I want to feel bad for waking her up, and I do on some level, she’s my best friend and I need her.

  “I’m at home.” I play with the edges of the pillowcase and whisper, “With Brayden sleeping on my couch.”

  “Whoa. Can you repeat what you just said?” She asks, stunned.

  “You heard me.” I sigh.

  “Why is Brayden asleep on your couch?”

  “Because I couldn’t carry him to bed.” I squeeze my eyes shut and grind my teeth all the while cringing because that came out all wrong.

  “Hold on.” She laughs a cackling kind of laugh. “Because you couldn’t carry him to bed?” She parrots, disbelief laced in her tone.

  “Okay so here’s the thing, and don’t interrupt me until I’m done. Promise?”

  “Promise,” she agrees.

  “Saturday night I picked Brayden up from a bar. He was completely wasted. Like threw up on me wasted. I took him to his house, but he said he didn’t live there anymore. Then, I offered to take him to Drew’s, but he said that wouldn’t work either. I had no other choice but to bring him back here. Then I kind of told him he could move in with me and so… you can draw your own conclusions.” I rush the words out as quickly and painless as possible. After what seems like forever she still hasn’t said anything. I pull the phone away from my ear and see the call’s still connected.

  “Tammy?”

  Nothing.

  “Tammy?” I whisper harshly into the phone and that grabs her attention.

  “Give me a second to process all of this. Are we talking about the same Brayden from high school? The same Brayden that now works with us?”

  I nod even though she can’t see the gesture. “The one and only.”

  “Karmen, you’re the manager of the radio station we work for. You know this isn’t going to go over well with Doug. You’re Brayden’s boss.”

  “Honestly, I don’t think it’s Doug’s business, but even if I did tell him about mine and Brayden’s living arrangement I doubt he’d care. As long as we keep things professional and the ratings go up I don’t think he’d say anything.”

  “Wow.” She sighs. “I always knew you had a heart of gold, but you’ve just blown my mind with this revelation. I get you wanting to help him, but why didn’t you have him call Drew yesterday morning?”

  I blow out a deep breath before I shock her again. “When I picked him up from the bar, he had this huge bruise on his jaw like he’d been punched. In fact, that’s exactly what it looked like, Tammy.” I shake my head at remembering seeing it for the first time. “I think his father hit him. I just…I feel bad for him.”

  “I don’t even know what to say.” Her voice is soft and comforting because now I have the juicy stuff to tell her.

  “There’s more.”

  “More?”

  “Oh yeah.” I chuckle. “I kissed him earlier.”

  “Kissed him?” I can tell I’ve shocked her because her reply is breathless and more of a question than a statement.

  “Well in my defense he started the whole thing, I just finished it. But then I ran away from him telling him that it would never work after he told me he’d waited years to kiss me. Years, Tammy.” I enunciate the last two words, making sure she understands what I’ve just said.

  “Was it any good?” she asks, and I can imagine a grin pulling at the corners of her lips. Of course, that’s the first question that would come to her mind.

  “Unbelievable.” I sigh wistfully but then snap out of it. “But then I heard him leave. I fell asleep from emotional overload only to be woken up about thirty minutes ago. When I went out to check on him, he was asleep on the couch, drunk again. I mean it’s Sunday. Who gets wasted on a Sunday night? I’m worried he might have a problem, but seeing as he’s going through some pretty tough things right now I don’t want to bring it up.”

  “Is he naked?”

  I gasp and she laughs. “Tammy! That is not the point. Okay, well he might be a little naked. By that I mean he’s in his boxers. But that’s neither here nor there.”

  “You did something didn’t you?” She asks skeptically. “You took advantage of the drunk half naked man on your couch?”

  “I didn’t take advantage in the way you’re thinking, perv. But I may have traced a tattoo of his. It’s sad, yet enchanting. It spreads from his ribs and up his chest. I might have brushed my fingers over it more than I should have. That’s when I felt it. Tammy he has scars on his body like the shapes of a belt. Now I know I grew up in really shitty conditions, but I was never beat on. And this is what has led me to the ‘I’m fucked’ area.”

  “You think he was abused?”

  “I’d like to say no, but my gut tells me yes. I do think it’s definitely a possibility.”

  “You’ve always been the one to try and save someone else,” she whispers.

  “Yeah well everyone needs saving every now and again. Tammy, I’ve seen a different Brayden than I’ve ever known. It’s so weird.” I groan in frustration.

  “Do you like him?” She’s not judging me or trying to dissuade me from what I’m doing, she genuinely wants to know.

  “I don’t want to. I want to hate him for what he put me through.”

  “But you can’t.” She states it as a fact.

  “No,” I sigh. “I can’t.”

  “Then what are you going to do?”

  I comb my fingers through my hair as I think about her question. “I don’t know. He’s broken me before. I’m not sure I can afford to let him in, Tam. I’m not sure that’s a risk I’m willing to take. Brayden is the kind of man who has the power to obliterate every ounce of self-worth I have.”

  “Do you trust him?”

  “No. And that there is where the problem lies. Without trust, there is nothing.”

  “I think you’re wrong. I think you trust him to some extent, Karmen. If you didn’t, he wouldn’t be in your apartment right now.”

  I roll my eyes at her response because on some level she may be right, but I’m going to go with the reason that he’s here because he has nowhere else to go. “What do I do?” I plead for her to tell me what I want to hear, not what I need to hear.

  “I know you want me to tell you to keep yourself guarded. Don’t let him in. Blah, blah, blah. But that’s not my style and you know it.” She snickers. “I say build a friendship with him. More than the one you have now. If what you’re saying is true then I’m going to assume he needs a friend, right? Be that person for him. Then see where it takes you. Who knows, this whole thing can turn out to be an epic fail and I’ll be here to help you pick up the pieces. Or it can turn out to be the most amazingly beautiful journey you’ve ever been on.”

  “Friends. I think I can handle that.” I nod to no one but myself. “This is why you’re my best friend.”

  She gasps in mock horror. “You mean you don’t love me because of my amazing fashion sense or witty sense of humor?”

  I laugh at her theatrics. “Oh, I love you in spite of all those things.”

  “Love you too, now go to bed and try not to think about the half-naked man on your couch.” She laughs.

  “Okay. See you in the morning?”

  “See you in the morning,” she replies.

  As I toss my phone onto my bed, I think back over Tammy’s words. Maybe I should give Brayden a chance at being my friend. And like my best friend said one of two things will happen, either I’ll be utterly crus
hed and devastated, or I’ll be blissfully happy.

  Is it a chance I’m willing to take? That’s the ultimate question.

  Last night, I didn’t expect to get as drunk as I did. It’s the same thing I think to myself every morning I wake up with a hangover. It’s a load of bullshit. The moment I walked into Killian’s I knew what was going to happen. As soon as the first four shots of Jameson slid down my throat I knew I was going for broke… and now I regret it, like always. The headache I now sport pounds out its own rhythm behind my eyelids. My head feels like it’s about to explode. Through the gap in the middle of the curtains, light streams in from outside against my closed eyelids. The blinding rays make me want to crawl into a cave.