by Lorenzo, DD
Her eyes misted as she looked deep into Declan’s. She wanted the truth as much as he desired to tell it. Listening as he recanted days and weeks of agony, she knew far too well the story. When, at last, he had purged himself from the guilt of hurting the people that he loved, she turned her small hand from underneath his strong one, and into a position so that she could squeeze his reassuringly.
“Sweetie…I believe you…” she said in barely a whisper…
Permission. Jeannie was giving Declan permission to tell the truth. Her belief in him ignited something inside. He wanted to tell her everything—no, he needed to tell her everything.
His head fell down to his chest. He wasn’t sure how he was going to survive this day, but the weight of the world had just dropped off his shoulders. Jeannie was someone he admired and respected from the beginning of their relationship. Her simple statement to him was a silent confirmation that he wasn’t a purposeful monster in the events of the past months. She understood why he had done some of the things he had—and she didn’t hate him. Perhaps there was something redeemable still within.
Hopeful that the time for self-flagellation was over, he began to empty himself of the disgust and contempt that he had worn since the accident. She had urged him to unload himself of it all, and that was exactly what he was doing. It was a start. The conversation they were about to have just might be the first step in rebuilding what was left of his shattered personal life.
Knowing and trusting that he could expect complete honesty from her, he cracked open the vault he’d made filled with reservations. He’d carefully placed them inside since he’d been hurt, as he allowed Jeannie to see the pain.
“I don’t believe in miracles anymore, Jeannie,” he confessed, “so you don’t have to feel inspired to give me all the answers.”
She smiled in understanding, giving him the consent he needed to continue.
“I—I…” stammering, he pulled his hands back and extended them behind his damp hair in exasperation, desperately trying to find words for the pent up emotions.
Inhaling a deep breath, he found her patiently waiting for him to begin again.
“It was just too much. All of it.”
He then leaned forward, resting on his forearms, trying to concentrate on how to best explain without offending.
“The business…it was going well, but we…Aria and I…we’d had a fight. I was handling it all—the business and our relationship. My relationship with Aria was just that—a real relationship. She thought that had to do with the argument we had—but it didn’t. I remembered even more today.”
Jeannie’s understanding wasn’t clear at all.
“No?” she asked.
“No,” he emphatically stated, attempting to clarify. “See…Let me try this again…Aria had told me the night before that Marisol was after me—wanted me in a relationship kind-of way—and I was only concentrating on the business, so I didn’t see it. She was partially right. I never saw Marisol that way. She was the easy girl, I do remember that—if you know what I mean…” He looked as if he didn’t want to elaborate.
Jeannie confirmed she understood his meaning, so he went on.
“I’m still a little confused about it all. What I do remember is that Aria and I had fought about that—Marisol having other motives. Bits and pieces come back to me. I remember Marisol showing up at the house. I remember that I was in a relationship with Aria, and I know it was serious because we were living together. I also remember that she was right about that particular thing about Marisol—that she wanted me. I remember that I wanted to tell her, or I was going to tell her when she got back—from the store, I think—that she was right about her.
“I just had a conversation with my brother—before coming here, I mean. As I was driving, another of my memories came back…I know how much Aria meant to me. Marisol has been lying to me. She’s been trying to convince me—since the accident—that she and I were together, and that my relationship with Aria was just me fooling around”—He looked pathetically at Jeannie—“She tried to flip them, and I fell for it.”
Jeannie bit the inside of her cheek to keep from spitting out hurtful words. She wanted to help her daughter, but in order to do that, she had to help Declan.
“I haven’t told anyone about any of my memories coming back, Jeannie—not even Carter.” His sadness overwhelmed him. “I feel like a fool, believing all the lies.”
Sighing, Jeannie looked up, while leaning back to gain some composure before she spoke.
“At the house, Declan…when Aria walked in…was that woman playing you, or were you playing with that woman—in other words, were you and Marisol playing Aria?”
His expression told the truth before his lips even formed the words.
“Hell no! I would never play Aria like that! Don’t you know me better than that?”
Her eyebrows raised, and the truth rushed out with sarcasm.
“Well, no, Declan, I don’t!” she spat.
His crushed expression gave her a mixture of satisfaction and sadness. It was bittersweet.
“I deserve that,” he sadly replied, “but I loved Aria, Jeannie, I know I loved her more than I’ve loved anyone. Somewhere…even now, down deep…I can’t get over her. I know I loved her.”
Jeannie knew she should feel pity—that she should be feeling compassion—but some leftover rage found its way to the surface as she remembered Aria crying those same words to her with a broken heart over him.
“Put yourself in Aria’s place, Declan! When your memories come back to you—came back to you—did you feel any of the hurt and hopelessness that she did?” she angrily asked. “For every action, there’s a reaction! She shouldn’t have run—and I’ve told her that. It was a childish, knee-jerk reaction, but all she could think of was getting away from the thing that was hurting her!”
She reached across the table to grip his bicep, getting his attention. Her anger showed.
“Think of how you would have felt—how you would feel—if you had been in the same situation! If you’d seen another man with his hands all over her. Would you have behaved rationally?—No! Don’t answer that!”
Her outrage forced her to her feet, and she pointed her finger accusingly at him.
“You would have punched him, or thrown him out!” she said with contempt. “You sure as hell wouldn’t have waited for an explanation!”
The trembling crept into her voice and threatened to make her cry as she remembered how broken Aria became in the months that followed because of what she witnessed on Coastal Highway, and how she felt responsible for everything that had happened to him. The memory knocked the wind out of Jeannie as effectively as if she’d been beaten, and she sat, almost collapsing from the emotion, into the chair across from him.
When she recovered after a few minutes, she spoke to him in a calmer, but passionless voice.
“She could never have predicted that accident, Declan—and you know it—but she spent months blaming herself for it—and you let her. You tortured Aria by alienating her, and she tortured herself with guilt. She walked herself into a self-imposed hell—and you pushed her there step by step!”
He was guilty. Jeannie slapped him in the face with it, but he knew it. Something in him snapped. He had never put himself in Aria’s place, yet he claimed he loved her. Jeannie’s words doused him with the ferocity of ice water, and he finally felt the shivery coldness he had inflicted on the woman he once claimed he worshipped. Jeannie had successfully reversed his insight, leaving him to feel nothing but remorse.
A note of disapproval filled his expression as his eyes found hers.
“You must hate me. She must hate me.”
Complete remorse set in and he sat dejected. He hung his head in shame as his spirit continued to splinter.
Jeannie crossed her arms, and ran her hands up and down them as if to rid herself from an imagined chill. She contemplated something constructive to say, but could think of nothing now tha
t both of their damaged emotions had been laid bare. All that would suffice was the truth.
“I don’t hate you, but I hate what you did.”
She knew that her honesty could be a building block and continued to assault him with her thoughts.
“I hope that you’re hurting now with some degree of the hurt you caused her. Not because I simply want you to be in pain, but because you were so shallow”—She reached out to touch his cheek—“You see, Declan, you’ve never been in her shoes—loving someone and wanting to take their pain away, only to have them treat you worse than an animal, as if you have no feelings at all. Aria has an unbelievable heart. She didn’t deserve that—and you know it.”
She looked at him with an expectant expression, wanting nothing more than a simple truth.
“Do you still love her?” She had to ask.
He nodded at her with red rimmed, weathered eyes that began to form pools of tears.
“I don’t know if I deserve her,” he said, lost in his misery. “I’m damaged. I know I am, and I don’t know if anybody can help me. She deserves better.”
Jeannie shook her head at his stupidity. “You don’t make decisions for Aria, Declan. That would be a big mistake.”
Lifting his chin, she gave him a motherly look.
“I don’t know if you and my daughter are strong enough to ever get back what you once had, but I believe you when you say that you didn’t set out to hurt her through all of this.”
Jeannie’s throat strained as she continued to speak.
“Her father lashed out at me when he was hurting, and yet I knew he still loved me—that didn’t make it right.”
“I treated her like shit, didn’t I?” he asked in a hushed tone.
“Yes, you did,” she answered, wrinkling up her nose.
She tipped her head inquisitively.
“You smell of alcohol and cigarettes. New habits?”
Shame washing over him as he nodded in response.
“I have dreams of her…and nightmares of the accident. It was worse without the alcohol, and the cigarettes gave me something to do…”
She understood so much more than he could realize.
“What about your leg?” she asked.
He laughed in sarcasm.
“What about it? I’ve got to learn to live with it…” he explained.
She smiled, her eyes crinkling in the corners.
“Yes…yes, you do.”
Taking a deep breath, she gave him a hug of support. Somehow, throughout this storm, solidarity was breaking through along with the sunshine.
“We’re going to get you a chance to apologize to my daughter,” Jeannie firmly said, “…AND we’re going to give her the chance to tell you to go to hell—but first, we’re going to find a good doctor to help you through this…”
Carter had already unleashed a shitload of information on Declan today, more than he had planned to, so he couldn’t understand why he’d be calling him on his cell.
“Yeah. What’s up? Where’d you go?” he said as he answered the call.
Declan, going toward his car, was not only wet and cold, but he curiously felt lighter.
“You wouldn’t believe it unless you’d been there, but I’ll tell you all about it when I get to the house,” he told Carter, talking as he walked. “I’m going to stop by and pick us up some food. We really need to have a sit down when I get home.”
Declan’s voice sounded different making the cop in Carter eager to interrogate.
“Okay…what happened?” he asked, a bit perplexed.
Declan slammed the car door and placed the key in the ignition.
“Nothing…yet. I have something to run by you,” he answered, as he began to scheme, “…and I think it might serve both of our purposes…”
Paige and Aimee waited patiently for Aria.
“We were the ones that got caught in the rain, remember? What’s taking you so long?”
Aria stuck her head out of the bathroom door. She was attempting to flat iron her long hair.
Aimee shook her head in disbelief.
“Why are you doing that?!” an exasperated Aimee asked. “Stop! Please! It’s raining outside! Your hair’s going to be all curly by the time we get to the car!”
Aria ducked back into the bathroom, ignoring her.
“I just felt like wearing it straight. Stop giving me a hard time! It’s not like the restaurant will be really busy tonight with the rain,” she reasoned.
Aimee rolled her eyes.
Paige walked around the bed toward the antique vanity. Once seated on the bench, she too began to fix her hair.
“Really?” Aimee said in disbelief. “I’m hungry. Can we please get ready to go?!”
It was Paige’s turn to roll her eyes in amusement.
“Just think of us as your helpmates,” she quipped. “We’re helping you keep that model figure of yours.”
While Paige concentrated on touching up her hair and make-up, and Aria continued the quest to style her hair, Aimee decided that she’d go to find something to nibble on in the kitchen.
Making no secret of her intentions, she exited the bedroom so she didn’t have to continue bill boarding her frustration.
“I’m going to scout out your fridge, Aria,” she hollered down the hallway. “You two take as long as you want, but I’m going to find something to eat.”
Taking her lack of response as permission to proceed, Aimee opened the stainless steel doors to peek at what was inside. Settling on a yogurt, she grabbed a spoon, while she simultaneously tore open the top, and pushed the fridge door closed with her foot.
After a long lick, she lifted the lid of the trashcan to drop the top inside. While doing that, she noticed two crumpled pieces of paper that had missed the can. As curious as a cat, she bent to retrieve them, the corner of one catching her eye.
Dear Declan,
My world isn’t the same without you. I cry for you at…
“What the hell?” she whispered out loud to herself, hoping no one had heard when she realized what she had found. She popped her fingers over her lips to silence herself.
Aimee quickly looked left, right, and all around to see if Aria was anywhere near her. Her curiosity piqued, she shoved the papers in her pocket, pulling her sweater over her jeans.
Wandering back to the bedroom with her food, she looked at her friend, confounded.
Was it possible that her suspicions were correct all along? Was Aria still in love with Declan?
She was convinced that he was still in love with her.
What could this mean?
Suddenly, she no longer had an appetite. Her inquisitive nature had gone into overdrive, and she desired isolation. She wanted to see the rest of the message. Aria was her friend, but then, so was Declan.
“Aimee!”
Jumping at the sound of her name, she saw Aria smiling at her.
“Sorry! I was lost in thought!” she responded, jolting as she answered.
“I could see that! I asked you if you found what you wanted in the kitchen.”
Aria’s concern brought a smile to Aimee’s face as she thought of her discovery.
“Why, yes…,” Aimee replied, darting past her with a quirky look. “I found exactly what I needed…”
They demolished the Rasta Pasta, and the three women began the debate about dessert.
“Life’s too short; have dessert!” Aria stated in her strongest voice.
Paige had nothing to add really, but Aimee shook her head in the negative.
“I can’t. Nope. Really, I can’t. I shouldn’t have eaten the pasta,” she asserted.
That earned her a very harsh look from Aria.
“You didn’t eat that much, Aimee! You split the pasta with both of us! What are you trying to do? Starve yourself?!”
Aimee shushed her when she saw Sue and Patrick approaching them.
“Can we get you guys something?” Sue asked. “You know you want dessert,” sh
e replied.
“No!” Aimee took a stand for all of them. “No dessert for us tonight,” she said, earning her a frown from Aria and Paige.
Patrick noticed the brewing tension between the girls.
They exchanged looks, and not good ones.
Aimee spoke up, wanting to do something nice.
“Can you guys make us a low-cal something decadent?” she sweetly asked.
Patrick grinned for the ladies.
“My specialty!” he announced, ready for the challenge.
When Sue and Patrick walked away from their table, both Aria and Paige waited on Aimee for an explanation. They were throwing daggers at her with their eyes.
“I’m sorry girls.” Aimee pouted. “I have a photo shoot coming up soon. All of the work will be in bathing suits and every little ounce shows on camera.”
Her explanation seemed to appease them both, though Paige had some questions and a look of sorrow crossed Aria’s face.
Aimee reminded her of Declan and how particular he was just before his photo shoots. It used to drive her crazy!
“It’s okay, Aimee,” Aria said, excusing her friend. I have some memories of a certain model and his eccentricities when he had to prepare for bathing suit work.”
Changing the focus away from Declan, she shifted the topic back to Aimee.
“Where are you going? I mean, where’s the job?”
“Hawaii!” Aimee answered, mimicking the hula dance with her hands.
Paige slinked back into her seat.
Aria had asked her question, but the answer depressed her.
“Oh my gosh! I’m so jealous,” Aria said. “I hate winter. I love the beach, but I hate it when it’s cold.”
An idea came into Aimee’s head and she hoped she could figure out the details later.
“Why don’t you both go with me?” she said, her excitement showed as her eyes lit up and her smile grew wide.
