Love Me Like You Mean It

by Jaime Russell

  The future is scary but you can't just run back to the past because it's familiar.

  Yes it's tempting but it's a mistake.

  -How I Met Your Mother

  The very worst part of grief is that you can't control it. The best we can do is try to let ourselves feel it when it comes. And let it go when we can.

  -Grey’s Anatomy

  Max

  Seven Years Old

  “Mommy, wake up, Mommy,” I cry out to her as I slap her face. When she gets like this, all I had to do in the past was slap her to wake her up. I notice her arm with a tie around it and needle sticking out, but there is blood coming from her head. I snap my head up when I see my dad coming from the bedroom with his jeans undone, sniffing and wiping his nose with his finger like he has a cold. My dad opens the fridge to grab a can of Budweiser and he hands it to a young girl who is walking out of the bedroom with her shirt off and just a bra and panties.

  “What did you do, boy?” he yells at me as he pulls me away from my mom by my ear.

  “Nothing. I came home from school, and she was like this. I called 911,” I answer his question with tears rolling down my face.

  “You did what? You know the cops are going to be all over this place. Stupid.” He smacks me across the face and goes to the kitchen to rummage through drawers, cupboards, and then the bedroom. He yells at the girl, whose name is Felicia, to help him find the drugs and flush them before the cops get here. I hear the sirens, and then he mumbles something before disappearing into the bedroom.

  I open the door to our two-bedroom apartment to see EMS and police walking down the hall. “Hurry, she’s in here. She won't wake up.” The female paramedic heads right to my mom, and the male one comes to me, pawing at the blood on my blue t-shirt and blue jeans. He is checking me over, and I try to get him to stop, to tend to my mom who is lying on the brown carpet. She just lies there lifeless wearing her flower nightgown.

  “Son, is anyone here with you?” the officer questions me as he eyes the living room.

  “My dad’s in the bathroom flushing his stash down the toilet with his girlfriend,” I tell him as I point toward where my dad is without taking my eyes off my mom. I watch them shock her, trying to bring her back to life as her lifeless body flop. I hear a commotion coming from the bathroom, and Felicia’s coming out in handcuffs. The police officer tells her to stand by the fridge as my dad comes running out of the room trying to get out of the house. He isn't going down without a fight as they tackle him and force on the handcuffs. The officers grab my dad and hoist him up to toss him into a chair.

  “Don’t you move or I will shoot you. Mac, how is she?” the officer inquiries about my mom. I hold my breath waiting for the answer. Mac just shakes his head, and Thomas looks at me with sadness in his eyes. My mom is gone. I fly over to her and crash down on her body. Crying. Sobbing. I hear the officer I now know is Thomas say something into his walkie-talkie. He comes over to me and tells me that I need to let her go so the medics can clean her up. He walks me over to the couch and kneels down in front of me.

  “What's your name?”

  “Max,” I whisper to him, looking down at my blood-covered and shaking hands.

  “Max, can you tell me what happened here?” Thomas questions me as he takes out his black notepad just like you see in the movies. I hear a growl coming from the kitchen as my dad struggles to get off the chair in the kitchen. I jump, and the other officer grabs him.

  “Keep your mouth shut, boy. Remember what I tell you: what happens here, stays here” my dad grunts out to me through clenched teeth. If he didn’t have that officer here, I would probably be thrown out of the house for the night because he loves giving me those punishments.

  “Get that piece of shit out of here,” Thomas yells in the direction of the officer holding onto my dad. Felicia stands there crying, begging the officer to let her go.

  “I don't know what happened. I came home from school and found her like this,” I tell him as I walk into the kitchen to wash my mom’s blood off my hands.

  “You killed your mother. The only person who gave a fuck about you, and now you are sending your dad to jail. You are nothing. You hear me? Nothing,” Dad yells at me as the officer pushes him out of the door while informing my dad of his Miranda rights. I look at the officer through the tears in my eyes as he puts a hand on my shoulder to give me reassurance that my dad is wrong.

  “Max, son, you didn’t do this. Come on, let me take you for a hot meal, but first, let’s get you changed.”

  Being in the presence of this man gives me a feeling that I never felt.

  Safety.

  Reagan Cramer

  “Yo, Jay, what’s up?” I yell to my brother-in-law as I walk into our business “Books a Latte” which is what it sounds like: a bookstore that sells coffee. Jason is standing at the counter getting the deposits from the weekend ready to go to the bank.

  Jason, Kennedy, and I decided to open a store together after one drunken night. I had just finished college with my degree in Human Studies and Family Development and was struggling to find my happiness, so we started talking about their dream to own their own business. Kennedy worked in publishing so she had a love for reading and all things books. Jason was a coffee snob so he wanted to add coffee with books we cooked up a plan.

  Jason Hess is a real charmer. He’s thirty-five years old, 6’4”, with blonde hair and stunning blue eyes. My sister Kennedy is exactly one foot shorter than Jason, which always makes me laugh. With her long, red hair and hazel eyes, Kennedy is a real looker at her age. They met in college and married a few days after they graduated. Fifteen years later, they are still going strong. I’m jealous of their relationship and hope I can find one just like it someday.

  “Reagan, you look different.” He snaps his fingers as he smiles his famous Joker smile he uses when he is going to be smartass. “You washed your hair.” He chuckles at his own joke.

  “Now, honey, don’t go picking on Reagan. Look at the date—” she makes the motion to look at the watch she isn’t wearing “—it’s time for her monthly shower.” She smirks. Kennedy comes out carrying a box of coffee to change the display in the window, and she puts the box on the counter as Jason pulls her into a kiss.

  “Kennedy, you are supposed to be on my side, not his,” I scold as I walk toward the back to start inventory.

  “Reagan—” Kennedy throws a towel at me “—what’s up with you? You seem crabby.”

  “I have a client today that I am not looking forward to seeing. I might have to remove the kids from the family. The father is trying his damnedest to keep the family together, but the mother is doing everything to tear it down. It’s a sad situation all around.”

  “We’re making good money, why don’t you just quit?” Jason decides to join in the conversation. We have fifteen minutes before the staff starts coming in so I can talk to them freely without having to worry.

  “I like my job, and I’m making a real difference, but now I have so much red tape bullshit to get through. I figure that I’ll do the inventory before my appointment so Charlie and Mia can put the books out to fill the shelves. If I have time, I’ll start working on the internet orders, but I’ll set them aside with a note attached to them when I have to go.”

  Jason gives me a thankful look. “Sounds good. I’m going across the street to get bagels. You want something?”

  “Would you get me a cinnamon one with cream cheese?” I gesture to grab money from my back pocket of my jeans, which Jason waves off.

  I walk back to the storeroom and open it, grumbling under my breath as I look in. I’m going to kill the delivery guy who has left all the boxes right in the doorway. I have to make a path just t
o get into the office. I open box after box to figure out what’s in them and put the books into their proper stack. I lose myself in the work until my stomach growls, and I look at the clock. I’ve been here for two hours and Jason never brought me the bagel. I get up off the floor to head to the front of the store to see where my bagel is. I start to open the door when I hear a gun go off and Mia, our young college student employee, screams. I slink across the wall to find out what’s going on, but I stop when I see Jason fall to the floor with a bullet in his forehead and blood pouring out of the wound. The once, always smiling, beautiful, sea-blue eyes void of life. My eyes sting trying to fight the tears back as my hand flies to my mouth to cover my sob.

  I scurry back to the storeroom and make sure to quietly shut the door. I grab my cell phone to call 9-1-1.

  “911, what’s your emergency?” The man’s voice is calm, but I’m freaking out, pacing back and forth, chewing on my thumb nail and I don’t know if I can keep myself quiet so as not to alert the shooter that I am here.

  “Jason, he’s dead. Oh, my god. My sister Kennedy is out there,” I try to whisper, but it comes out frantic and too fast for the operator to understand me.

  “Ma’am, I’m going to need you to keep calm for me. You said Jason is dead? How did he die, and where is your sister?”

  “He was shot in the head, and my sister is in front of our store.” My chest is starting to hurt. I’m trying to catch my breath, and I can’t help but cry. If they can kill Jason, will Kennedy be okay? I hear three shots, and I stifle a sob. My heart is breaking not knowing what’s happening to my family.

  “What’s your name, hon, and where are you calling from?”

  “Reagan Cramer and Books a Latte on 5th. I’m in the storeroom in the back. Please hurry.”

  “Reagan, my name is Eddie. I need you to slow your breathing down. I’ve dispatched the police, and they are on their way. How many people are in the store counting yourself?” Eddie’s voice remains calm, and I feel the urge to reach through the phone to kick him in the balls.

  “Um, myself, Jason, Kennedy, Mia, Charlie, and the new guy who started today. Please hurry.”

  “Reagan, police are outside right now. I did alert them that you’re there in the backroom.”

  “If they’re outside, then can I go see if my sister is okay?” I stand up to walk over to the door, but I’m halted when I hear the officers yelling at someone. There are more gunshots and silence. It seems like hours before I hear a knock on the door. I jump at the sound, screaming in fear. I fumble with the door lock, but my hands can’t stop shaking, I can’t breathe. Did he find me?

  “Reagan, I’m Sergeant McCoy. It’s safe to come out.”

  I drop the phone not even sure that I hung it up. I fling open the door to see a man standing in front of me with sad eyes. I push past him and go running into the store, yelling Kennedy’s name, looking for her, but my heart knows. There are yellow tarps over five bodies, and the EMTs are working on someone. I run over to where they are working and its Kennedy. She has two holes in her chest. There’s blood everywhere, needles, IVs, and lots of talking. She whips the oxygen mask off as she sees me, grabbing my hand to pull me closer to her.

  “Ma’am, put the mask back on.” The EMT, Nathan, from his name tag, tries to put the mask on Kennedy, but she is pushing his hands away from her.

  “Reagan, I need you to take care of Jonathan. He’s going to be so lost and confused. Please make sure you tell him stories about us growing up. Remember to make sure you laugh with him, cry with him, and never give up on him.” Tears stream from her eyes as her hand clutches my shirt. “Raise him as your own son. Tell him that his dad and I loved him more than he will never know.” She’s gasping for breath, and all I can do is cry. I’m crying so hard that I don’t even care that I have snot running out of my nose. “Reagan, I love you to the moon and back.”

  “Shine bright for us, Kenny.”

  Her eyes roll back into her head as she takes her last breath with a smile on her face. I scream out in agony and grab my sister’s lifeless body, kiss her face, and squeeze her close to me.

  How am I going to raise an eight-year-old boy by myself who just lost both his parents?

  I shoot up from my bed with tears flowing from my eyes as I look at the picture on my nightstand of Kennedy and myself. Whoever coined the phrase, “Time heals all pain” really needs to get their ass kicked. It’s been five years, but it feels like that day was yesterday. I groan as I throw my covers off. “I better get up and get my day started.”

  Reagan

  “Aunt Reagan, where are my shoes? I’m going to be late for school.” I roll my eyes as my thirteen-year-old nephew yells the same question that he does every morning. If his head wasn’t attached, he probably would lose that too. He is the spitting image of my sister Kennedy with his blue eyes and button nose, but when he smiles, it is all Jason. Looking at him, I can’t stop the tears from forming in my eyes. I wish my sister was here to see him growing into his own personality.

  “Did you even look for them?” Jonathan comes out of his room wearing his red and black basketball shorts and a black tee.

  “Duh,” he says as he does his famous annoyed-with-the-parental look. I point to the shoes that he left in front of his Xbox last night. He smiles as he kisses me on the cheek and mumbles something about being late for school.

  “I could always drive you to school if you want. My first meeting isn’t until nine,” I suggest to him as I eat my cornflakes and banana. He looks at the time on his cell phone then back at me and shakes his head. He grabs his usual breakfast of a Pop-Tart and Yoo-hoo and is out the door in ten seconds. “Bye, have a good day,” I yell out to no one in particular.

  I clean up my mess and go to get a shower. We live in a small two-bedroom apartment because I needed something fast. I lived above our business before but couldn’t bring myself to live there after, and Kennedy’s house wasn’t hers so the bank took it back.

  I walk into my bathroom which is an ugly yellow color and small. The shower does have great water pressure, so I can’t complain too much. I put on my playlist and start my shower. My mom would laugh at me growing up because when I played music, I got lost in it. I forget where I am or how long I am in my own little world. Listening to soulful music like Adele takes me to a place of longing. I get lonely doing the same thing over and over. Wrapping the towel around me, I walk into my bedroom.

  It’s the bigger of the two bedrooms, and I was able to get a queen size bed, with a pink and brown bedspread into it. The closet is a small walk-in; I was happy about that because my job as a child advocate has me wearing a lot of suits especially when I am in meetings all day. I look through my closet to find an outfit that works for my meetings that can also be worn out to dinner.

  My best friend, Nicarra, who has always been like my sister since we met in kindergarten, text me this morning to remind me of our plans. We try to get together at least once a week just to connect and Jonathan loves the attention her boys give him. He likes not being the only boy when we get together for our weekly dinner. I grab my black suit and toss it on the bed as I walk to the dresser to pull out my white lace bra and thong. I attach the black thigh highs to my garter as I pull my skirt on, then I button up my pink silk blouse and throw on my jacket. Twisting my hair into a bun on my way to the bathroom, I then apply very little makeup to try to hide the dark circles forming under my eyes. I haven’t been sleeping much because I constantly worry if my choices are the right ones for Jonathan. Not to mention the nightmares of the day my sister and brother-in-law, his parents, were murdered right in front of me.

  My cell phone ringing takes me out of my guilt-ridden mind. I groan out loud to see my ex-husband Don’s name flashing. I answer it with a brisk, “Hello, Don.”

  “Hey, what is your schedule like this weekend?”

  “Why? You have an event that you need Jonathan at to make people thing that you actually like kids?” Don couldn’t handle b
eing “dad” to my nephew. He’d tried numerous times to get me to give him to another family member, and when I wouldn’t do it, he left me for someone older whose kids were already grown. It devastated Jonathan, and I’d been the one picking up the pieces.

  “Don’t be like that. I got tickets from a client for the Miami Dolphins and thought I would take him to it.”

  “I’ll ask him, but I don’t have a problem with it.”

  “I need to talk to him about my promotion and relocating.”

  “You’re moving?”

  “I leave at the end of the year for California. Plus, I’m getting married next month.”

  “Wow, lots of changes coming your way. Why do you want to do things with Jonathan? Our marriage ended because you didn’t want to play dad.” I grab my black briefcase as I opened the door to head down to my car.

  “Why do you have to be like this?” he snaps.

  “Don, I’m not trying to be a bitch, but I’m concerned about Jonathan and what this all does to him.”

  “I like being the uncle that he sees on weekends. I wasn’t ready to be a dad.”

  “You didn’t have to be a dad, just a role model for him. Congratulations on your promotion and upcoming nuptials.” He sighs loudly—his sign that the conversation is over.

  “Have Jonathan call me tonight or tomorrow.”

  “Bye, Don.”

  I end the call with him, unsure of if I should be happy for him or be jealous that he’s moved on. I back out of my parking spot and drive down the highway toward my office. My mind wanders back to the fight that ended our marriage.

  “Don, where the hell have you been? We had to be at the parent-teacher conference to talk about Jonathan’s attitude. I had to go by myself.”

  “I just walked in the door, must we start this fight yet again?”

  “Yes. We are a partnership in this, I need you present in raising Jonathan. Are you going to be like this when we have children?”