Salvage

by Tiffany Aleman

  I just want to be me again even if I know that will never happen. I will never get the old Karmen back. Brayden left such a profound impact on me. Getting back to who I was before him, I wouldn’t know where to begin to try if I could.

  “You talked to him this morning?” Tammy asks.

  “Yeah.” I breathe in deep and hold it a couple of seconds in hopes that I’ll stop crying. “He should be here any minute now.”

  “You know I’m only keeping my mouth shut because you begged me to. But we both know I want to kick his ass.”

  I nod my agreement because she is only keeping quiet because of me. When I told her what I was going to do, that seemed to be my bargaining chip for her to not interfere and say anything.

  “I’ll hide out in your room until you’re done, but if that fucker hits one damn thing in this apartment, don’t think I won’t call the cops.” It’s not a threat. It’s a promise. Because when she saw my hand and then the destruction of my table it took everything I had in me to talk her out of calling the police last night. She thought I should press charges.

  Tammy nods. Dread fills every fiber of my being. The knots in my stomach have only led to full-blown nausea. Slight tremors take hold of the nerves in my hand. Sweat beads on my forehead and on the back of my neck. I feel like I’m going to puke any second now. The anticipation of what’s to come when I see Brayden again is making me a nervous wreck. I lean forward, my head falls between my knees, and I concentrate on taking deep, even breaths in and out.

  Just when I think I have myself under control, I barely register hearing the front door shut and I can’t handle it. I shove off the couch, rush to the bathroom, only to fall to my knees and heave into the toilet. Bile burns my throat and the inside of my nose. My stomach contracts painfully, expelling only stomach acid, seeing as I haven’t eaten since last night and it’s now mid-afternoon. A wet, cool compress is laid across the back of my neck.

  “Are you okay?” It’s Brayden’s deep, gravelly voice, filled with concern that comes from behind me.

  I sit back on my haunches. A headache starts to pound a fierce staccato behind my eyes. I rub at my temples. “I should be asking you the same question. But I’m fine.”

  I peel my eyes open and lean forward to flush the toilet, but Brayden beats me to it. I don’t look at him because I don’t want the resolve I’ve built to falter. I don’t want to see what I saw in his eyes last night again. I don’t want the good times we’ve shared to overshadow what really needs to be done. The tips of his fingers move into my peripheral as he holds out his hand to help me up off the ground. I don’t take his help. I don’t want to remember the feel of his skin on mine. I don’t want to remember the pleasure it used to bring me. Remembering the pain is better. Remembering the hurt will help me heal faster. I get up on my own and rinse my mouth out with the mouthwash that sits next to the sink.

  Purposely, I avoid his penetrating stare in the mirror. I know he’s there watching me, his gaze burns through my skin, but I force myself to ignore it.

  “Are you going to ignore me?” he asks. “Not that I blame you. Karmen, you should know…”

  “Let’s not do this in here. We’ll talk out in the living room,” I interrupt.

  I still don’t look at him, but I can see him nod as I stare back at my reflection in the mirror. With a deep breath in I find the strength I need to cut him loose, to let myself heal.

  I squeeze past him making sure that no part of my body touches his as I make my escape from the bathroom. His footsteps echo mine as we go into the living room. The door to my room is ajar by only a couple of inches. Internally I smile because I know Tammy did this to give me the space I need to accomplish what I set out to do this morning, but at the same time to make sure I’m okay.

  Brayden takes a seat on the couch. With his elbows resting on his knees, he leans forward, his hands clasped in front of him. I don’t sit because I plan on saying what I need to say then leaving. I plan to ‘rip off the band aid’ metaphorically speaking. But as I open my mouth to speak, Brayden cuts me off.

  “Last night should have never happened.” He looks up at me, tears pool in his beautifully saddened eyes and then looks at my bandaged hand. “I lost it and I…there is no excuse for what I did to you.” I hear him take a deep breath. He blows it out hard through his mouth. “I am so fucked up, Karmen. You have to believe I would never hurt you. Not like that. Not like last night.”

  Silent tears stream down my face. I bite the corner of my bottom lip to keep the sobs from expelling. “You see those roses?” A sad smile lifts the corners of my lips as I look at the white roses in the vase on the bookshelf. They sit next to the selfie we took when we hiked up a ridge in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Ever since I told him about why I loved white roses and their meaning to me, he’s bought a new bouquet every week. He said I deserved to have fresh flowers all of the time. That something with such significance to me should never die.

  I train my gaze back on him. The anguish marring his face suddenly becomes my own, but I push forward. “I remember when they used to have this vibrancy to them. They were this beautiful shade of white. They were gorgeous. The smell invaded every nook and cranny of this small apartment. To me, those roses were a sign of rebirth. A fresh start. I probably should have thrown them out a while ago, but I couldn’t. They reminded me of us.”

  I wipe the sweat on the palms of my hands against the denim of my jeans as I shake my head at the memory. "But I was wrong. Because now they’re dead. There’s no life left in them. There’s no sweet fragrance to be smelled anymore. They’re faded and wilted. Just like my heart. So thank you for that. Because now, because of you, I have no more love to give. My heart is numb. Instead of a steady and strong heartbeat, mine is weak, barely having the strength to go on. I knew in the beginning you had the capacity to destroy me and I was right.” I reach up and wipe at the onslaught of tears that won’t seem to stop. “I never wanted to do this. I thought we’d have longer than just a few measly months. But now.” I take a deep hiccupping breath. “I have to let you go before you annihilate what little there is left of my soul.”

  I see his face splotchy from crying, tears leaving tracks down his cheeks, and watching his lower lip quiver breaks me more than I thought possible. Brayden comes to stand in front of me and takes my good hand in his own, and I let him.

  “Don’t do this,” he croaks out. “Don’t end us. I promise I’ll get better,” he pleads.

  I ignore his empty promises. “I’m going to stay with Tammy for a few days.”

  Brayden’s legs give out beneath him. He falls to his knees, his arms wrap around my waist, and he buries his face in my stomach. His head lolls back and forth against the fabric of my t-shirt as his hands clutch at the material in the back. “No, no, no, no, no,” he repeats, his voice muffled.

  I find myself comforting him when his shoulders begin to shake from the breakdown that’s now taken a hold of him. Gently, I comb my fingers through his soft, brown locks. I cry with him because I’m now wearing his pain, his emotion.

  “I swear to you things will be like they used to be if you just give me a chance.”

  “No, they won’t,” I reply, my voice hoarse from crying. “We can never go back to what we were before.”

  He squeezes me tighter to him. “Yes, we can. Let me prove it to you.”

  I shake my head and hold my breath. “I can’t…I can’t do this anymore.”

  “I love you, Karmen,” he chokes out.

  I don’t negate his words. I don’t call him a liar, because how he’s treated me isn’t how you treat someone you love. Instead, I say, “And I you.”

  He looks up at me, eyelashes stuck together with tears. His eyes are red and puffy along with the tip of his nose and lips. “Then we can work through this?”

  I shake my head sadly. “No, we can’t.” I cup his pain-stricken face in my palms. “Sometimes, Brayden, love isn’t enough to salvage the damage that’s been done. You nee
d help.” My thumbs sweep away the torrent of tears that continue to seep from his eyes. “I tried to help you, but you won’t let me in. I held my father’s hand and watched him die from the same disease you have, and it messed me up. I can’t sit by and watch you do the same. I can’t hold your hand at your bedside and watch you wither away, too. You’re death, I wouldn’t be able to come back from. You and I, we’re stagnant, not going forward nor backward.” I swallow around the ball of emotion lodged in my throat. “We both know it’s over,” I whisper.

  He shakes his head back and forth, but I lean down and press a wet kiss to his forehead. I reach behind me and take his hands in my own, unwrapping them from around me. “You have three days. I’ll need you and your stuff to be gone before I get back."

  His arms fall lifeless to his sides as he stares up at me shocked. The unbidden tears still falling.

  “I’m really sorry,” he says after a few moments.

  I nod. “I know. Me too.”

  Before I can do something stupid like throw myself at him and beg for him to help me fix this, fix us, I rush to my suitcase, throw the front door open and make my escape out into the hallway, down the stairs, into the fresh air until I’m at the driver’s side door of my car. My suitcase falls over as I collapse to my knees. Sobbing for a love that never really stood a chance. Sobbing for a friend that I’ve now lost. Sobbing because I know there is no fixing us until he’s fixed himself if it’s not too late by then.

  Tammy rushes to my side minutes later. She slips an arm around my waist and says, “Let’s take my car, okay? I’ll bring you home when you want to come back.”

  I nod numbly as I let her help me up. We make it to her car and as she helps me into the passenger seat, I keep my gaze trained on the floorboard.

  “I’m going to get your suitcase, all right?” When I don’t answer, she shuts the door and walks over to my abandoned luggage. I don’t want to look up and see him staring down at me from the window above. I want to leave. I want the hurt to go away. I want to forget.

  “What the fuck is this?” The sound of a man’s voice breaks through the fog, but I’m so fucking drunk I can’t make out who it is.

  It’s been a day since Karmen left me. I can’t blame her though. In reality, I left her first. When I pushed her away, that was the beginning of the end for us. She told me I had three days to get my stuff and get out. Yet here I am on day two, drunk off my ass, lying on our bed, a bed I haven’t frequented in quite some time.

  Since Karmen left, I’ve done nothing but drink. I’ve consumed enough alcohol even I wonder how I’m not dead, physically. My emotional state is questionable. I’ve never cried so much in my life. Even when my father beat me, I didn’t cry, not like this. When he left a multitude of scars behind I didn’t cry near as much as I did when Karmen told me we were through. Until the pain became too much to handle, I turned to the one thing that has never let me down.

  Vodka, whiskey, bourbon, tequila, you name it I’ve consumed it in the past forty-eight hours.

  “Brayden where the fuc…”

  I turn my head from side to side, groaning in pain. The cushion of the pillow does nothing to the ease the pounding in my head.

  “Okay, get up.”

  My eyes won’t open even when I feel him pulling on my arm. “What the hell do you want?” I ask, my words slur together. I barely hear the sound of glass liquor bottles clinking against other glass bottles.

  “For you to get in the damn shower.”

  I force my eyes to open and the room spins, but I’m still able to make out Drew’s blurry form.

  “Leave me alone, man.” I snatch my arm from his grasp and roll onto my back.

  “Nope. I don’t think so. You being left alone really isn’t working out for you,” he retorts.

  “How did you get in here anyway?” I groan.

  “Karmen.”

  I scoff at that. “Yeah, okay. She fucking left me. Told me to move out. Why the fuck would she care?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. You’ve destroyed her apartment. You’ve destroyed y’alls relationship. Our friendship is hanging on by a thin thread.”

  On unsteady arms and my equilibrium shot, I shove myself up onto the palms of my hands. Finally after a few seconds I manage to sit up. I look up at him, one eye closed and the other squinting from the light coming into the room, I sneer. “You don’t know shit.”

  “Oh yeah? That’s what you think huh?” Drew puts his hands on his hips. “I know that your fucking pride ruined a good woman. A woman that loves you, might I add.” He sweeps one hand in my direction and shakes his head with disgust. “For the life of me I can’t understand why.”

  I stumble from the bed. My feet feel like they’re encased in cement as I stand before Drew. “You have something you want to say to me?” I spread my arms out to my side. “Go ahead, you can’t possibly hurt me any more than what I’m already feeling right now.”

  Drew takes a step back from me and runs his hand through his hair as he looks down at the floor. “Go take a shower. You stink.”

  I’m defensive now and looking for a fight. “No! You came in here talking about things you know nothing about and now you have nothing to say? Fuck you, Drew! Quit being a punk pussy bitch and say what you have to say.”

  Drew steps up. We’re toe to toe. His shoulders are squared, chest puffed out, chin tilted up, a menacing growl leaves his lips. “You’re a drunk, Brayden. You have issues that only a professional can help you fix. You take and take and take from the others around you but give nothing in return. You’ve pushed me away, my wife away, and now the woman you claim to love away. You have no one in your corner but your fucking bottle. Grow some fucking balls, man the fuck up, and take responsibility for yourself.” The last of his words spark a rage in me that I’ve harbored way too damn long. My breaths come in heavy fast pants. A red haze takes over my vision. On its own accord, my arm swings out, fist clenched, and I put everything I have into that one punch. Its destination: Drew’s face. But it doesn’t connect. In an instant the loud sound of bone crunching in my face resonates. My head feels heavy and my eyes roll into the back of my head before everything goes…dark.

  Ice-cold water slams into my face and I gasp from the shock. My eyes spring open, well one does anyway, and the other stays shut. Gingerly, I reach up and touch the soft tissue with the tips of my fingers. I wince from the pain and suck in a sharp gasp.

  “I’d apologize, but I’m really not sorry.”

  I turn in the direction of Drew’s voice. He sits on the closed toilet seat. One boot covered foot rests on the ledge of the tub. “Can you shut the fucking water off?”

  “Can you say please? I know your mother taught you manners.” One of his eyebrows rises in a dare. He wants me to argue with him because he knows I’m not in any shape to do for myself.

  My teeth clench together and I grit out, “Please?”

  “That’s more like it.” He shuts the water off and believe it or not it’s even colder. Goosebumps pepper my skin and my teeth begin to chatter. “Here’s how this is going to work. You’re going to take a damn shower while I clean this place up the best I can.” I open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me off. “If you say anything right now, so help me God I will turn the water back on.” My nose scrunches up, and I stare at him through the narrow slit of my one good eye. “When you’re done showering, you are going to get dressed, take some ibuprofen, eat something, then you and I are going to go for a drive.”

  I scoff and as soon as the sound leaves my mouth I’m gasping. The freezing water raining down on me does nothing to help alleviate the chill overtaking my body. “Fuck you, Drew!” I yell out.

  “No, thanks. I have a wife for that.”

  He shuts the water off. Immediately I’m overcome with muscle spasms from the shaking. “Now about this drive I was trying to tell you about. While you were passed out, I made a phone call for you.”

  “You can‘t make me do anyth
ing I don’t want to do.”

  Drew nods and looks up at the ceiling like he’s thinking about what I’ve just said. He turns his attention back to me and shrugs. “I thought you might say that. So here’s the deal, I refuse to let you fail. I refuse to let you drown in a pain that you won’t share with anyone. Karmen loves you. Not the image or the brand that is Brayden Stephens, just you, man. Even all the ugly shit and vices that come with you. Is this,” he holds up an empty bottle of Jameson and shakes it at me. My stomach rolls at seeing the bottle. My mouth salivates and I can’t stop the inevitable even if I tried. I lean my head out of the tub and vomit all the alcohol I’ve consumed here lately. It expels from my body in violent waves. My throat is on fire. My stomach burns and the muscles hurt. The strain from vomiting only makes my swollen eye hurt worse. Drew doesn’t say anything, he just sits there quietly, patiently waiting for me to finish. When the last of the dry heaves finally stop, he looks at me with his brows raised.