by Monica James
“Yes, we will. It’s been a continuing battle for quite some time. I’ve worked quite closely with many humanitarian groups across the globe, trying to strategize a plan of action. After…” I pause, as I was going to reveal that after our honeymoon, I was scheduled to go over and offer aid to the war torn country.
Samuel knew this and supported me one hundred percent, but now, I can’t be too sure what he’ll think.
“I was actually scheduled to go over at the end of next month for twelve weeks,” I confess, nervously rearranging my silverware. “But I think I’ll postpone. I can always be as effective here as I would be over there.”
“It’s awfully dangerous over there, Lucy. And besides, you’re needed here,” Kellie says as she cuts into her chicken.
She’s right, but this is my job. This is what I love doing. This is my normal.
“I think you should go,” Saxon interjects, leaning back in his seat, sipping his beer.
“Don’t be absurd,” Kellie snaps. “Samuel needs her here.” Sam looks at his mom and screws up his face in dispute.
“And the homeless, famished people of Syria don’t?” Saxon counters smartly.
“They’re not my problem. Samuel is. I’m sorry they live where they do, but if they want to blow one another up, then good riddance, I say. They’re doing our troops a favor. They should bomb that entire country. Nothing good comes out of there, anyway.”
My mouth hangs open and I blink twice.
Saxon shakes his head, disgusted. “That’s a lovely attitude to have, Kellie. Screw the needy because Sam bumped his head.”
Samuel snorts besides me, but doesn’t say a word. The old Sam would be reprimanding his mom for such unethical, prejudiced views. But this Sam finds the entire exchange hilarious. Greg picks up on the hostility and uneasily tugs at the collar of his Abercrombie polo.
I should chastise Kellie, but I don’t. No matter how much of a bigot she is, she’s still practically my mother-in-law and I was raised better than that. I simply smile bitterly and sip my wine.
I’ve lost my appetite, but can feel Kellie eyeing my empty plate. My mother’s warm voice echoes in my ears to be the bigger person and let this go. I do. I serve up the smallest amount of food possible and pick at it like a sparrow.
We eat in relative silence, the TV filling the void. Kellie and Greg chat amongst themselves, laughing about whatever trivial bullshit fills their day. I have no idea why I’m so unreceptive towards them. I’ve never been this way before. I used to love hearing about their plans to travel, or what was installed on the farm. But has Kellie always been so annoying, and has Greg always been so…gutless?
As I peer across the table at an uninterested Saxon, I know the answer is yes.
“Sammy, remember this?” Kellie holds up her arm, a thin gold bracelet sliding down her slender forearm.
I have no idea why on earth she would ask him if he remembers. Has she forgotten he’s suffering from amnesia?
Samuel looks at her, mid-bite, shaking his head, completely uninterested.
“Well, I do. You bought this for me for Mother’s Day. You were nine. You couldn’t wait and gave it to me a day before. Saxon, what did you get me again?”
He tips the beer bottle towards her wrist. “That bracelet.”
Her face pales. “No, that’s not right. Sam got me this.”
I stop chewing, wondering if this is another one of those times where Sam totally screwed Saxon.
“He may have given you that, but I was the one who paid for it. I saved up all year, not spending a cent of my allowance to buy you a gift I thought you’d like. Sam found it hidden underneath my bed and then he gave it to you without me knowing. It was my fault for not finding a better hiding spot.”
“That’s impossible,” she declares, shaking her head.
“No, Kellie, it’s very possible. I’m pretty sure I told you this until I was blue in the face. You just didn’t want to believe that Sam had forgotten to acknowledge you as his mother.”
I bite my lip, while Sam watches on.
“How long will you be staying, Saxon?” Kellie asks, not even bothering to look at him.
“He can stay for as long as he likes,” I answer for him, unable to hide my annoyance.
Kellie’s eyes widen ever so slightly, not expecting my reply to be filled with such force.
“I just meant, the garage—who will look after it while you’re gone?” she quickly amends. I’m surprised she knows where he works.
“It’s under control, Kellie. Thanks for your concern.” He doesn’t take his eyes off me, which makes me nervous.
“Right, how about dessert, honey?” Greg says. He’s forever the mediator. She nods and stands, clearing the table. I help her in silence, thankful that this nightmare is almost over.
She puts on some coffee and passes me a delicious smelling orange up-side-down cake. I place it into the center of the table, wishing I could pass on dessert. I slump into my seat, never feeling more alone as Sam talks to Greg about the latest basketball scores, totally ignoring me.
My wine is my only savior and as I reach for it, I steal a glance at Saxon. He’s inclining back in his seat, his arms intertwined behind his neck. If he had ear buds inserted, I would compare tonight’s dinner to the one we had so many nights ago. However, tonight we appear to both be uncomfortable.
He watches me closely, just as I watch him, and just as I’m about to turn away, he pokes his tongue out at me. I blink, unsure if I’m hallucinating, but when he places his thumbs to his temples and waves his hands out childishly while sticking out his tongue, I know that I’m seeing things clearly for the first time in a long time.
He’s pulling a funny face at me—the same face I pulled at him. He remembers. And just like he did to me, a ghost of a smile touches my lips. My strangled giggle attracts the attention of the room, but Saxon is as cool as a cucumber as he sips his beer. No one saw the exchange but me. It’ll forever be our secret.
I instantly feel better.
“Coffee is served,” Kellie announces, just as Samuel’s cell pings.
He turns the screen away so I can’t see it. His action makes me instantly suspicious. He taps out a quick reply to whoever just messaged him and replaces the phone in his pocket with a smile.
A wave of dread passes over me.
“Samuel, how are things going with Dr. Yates?”
I spin to look at Kellie, shaking my head subtly. This conversation is not fit for a dinner table. Or any table for that matter. She doesn’t get the hint however.
“She seems like such a lovely lady. Have you discussed with her…what happened?” She places a hand to heart dramatically.
I can feel Sam’s good mood shift immediately. “Yes, we have. I hope that motherfucker fries,” he snarls. “Or better yet, give me five minutes with him and I’ll show him what it feels like to be in a coma.”
“Sam,” I whisper sympathetically, gently touching his leg. But he yanks it out from under my touch, scowling. And out comes Mr. Hyde.
“Samuel!” Greg scolds. “Watch your language around your mother.”
But the warning sends Sam off. “I’m sure she’s heard the word fuck before, Dad. And besides, in this circumstance, I think it’s warranted. I don’t remember who I am because that asshole took my life away from me! How is that fair?”
Sophia was right. This topic is one best left to therapy. I can hear Samuel’s pain, frustration, but most of all anger at being in the situation he’s in.
My heart bleeds for him. “You may not remember who you are, Sam, but I do. I’ll never forget.” My nostalgia has the opposite effect on Sam.
“Well, that’s great for you, Lucy—” my name sounds dirty “—but I don’t remember a damn thing. I don’t remember you, or this house, or anything of my adulthood, for that matter.” I can see his frustration at not remembering.
Saxon glares at Sam. “How about you stop whining and feeling sorry for yourself and man the fu
ck up? Sophia wants to help you, but of course you’re being a stubborn asshole about it. We’re all trying to help you,” he concludes, angrily.
“I don’t want your help,” he spits, pointing at Saxon. “You can go back to fucking Oregon and live your perfect life.”
“Fine!” Saxon kicks back his seat and stands. “I don’t need this shit.” Leaning forward and bracing his hand on the table, he pins Sam with a defiant stare. “Amnesia or not, you haven’t changed. You wanted to know the reason why I left? Well, the reason is you.”
“Saxon!” Kellie shrieks, standing.
But he ignores her. “I covered myself in tattoos, grew out my hair, and left this shithole dump because I needed to forget! I needed to forget you. Every time I look into the mirror, I’m reminded that you’re my brother, and I fucking hate it. I fucking hate you. And I know you remember why I hate you.”
Samuel shoots up, mimicking Saxon’s terrifying pose. It’s the ultimate standoff, and I’m afraid of what might happen when someone decides to move.
“Boys, that’s enough!” roars Greg, thumping his fist on the table.
I look between Samuel and Saxon, my body trembling, horrified at this scene of pure hatred. What did Samuel do? I used to think their differences were a simple misunderstanding, but now I know that’s not true.
When a tear slips down my cheek, Saxon’s eyes rivet my way. His gaze softens. “You don’t deserve her, you son of a bitch.” He pushes off the table and storms from the room, while I’m left with my mouth hanging open.
The room explodes into pandemonium as Kellie flails over to Samuel to ensure he’s all right. “This is just like Saxon to ruin a family meal.” She looks over at Greg, who shakes his head, disappointed.
This isn’t Saxon’s fault. Kellie’s cruel comment reminds me of the stories Saxon shared with me. It appears he’s been taking the blame for all of their family troubles, and it’s not right. I can’t take it a second longer. I spring up from my seat and run to the bathroom.
Locking the door behind me, I slide down it, needing a moment to catch my breath. Once I slump to the floor, feelings of hopelessness overtake me. Reaching for a perfume bottle off the basin, I hurl it against the wall, it shattering into a million pieces, just like my heart.
For the first time ever, I want to console Saxon and not Sam. I sink even further at the messed-up situation I find myself in. I’m so frightened that Saxon is about to leave. He has every right to. But if he goes, how am I going to survive this? Saxon is the only person who understands what I’m going through because he’s going through it, too.
Does Sam really remember whatever transpired between him and Saxon? And if he does, what did he do?
Needing answers, I take a deep breath and swallow down my tears because crying isn’t going to solve a thing. Standing, I splash some cold water onto my face and decide to get to the bottom of this rift once and for all.
Opening the door, I charge down the hallway, ready to kick hostilities’ butt, but sadly, the only butt that gets kicked is mine.
“I hate being here, pretending to be someone I’m not. I’m trying, I really am, but I can’t stand the sight of her. I have no idea what I ever saw in her and honestly, being here is just hindering my progress. She’s constantly down my throat, forcing me to remember her. But you know what, there’s a reason why I don’t remember her. It’s because she makes me sick. She’s a reminder of a past I don’t want to remember.”
I sag against the wall, ensuring I stay out of sight as I mute my whimpers behind my hand.
“Samuel, just give her a chance. She loves you so much.”
“That’s the problem…I don’t love her. And I doubt I ever did.”
I can’t hear another word. I can’t stand here and listen to the love of my life renounce his love for me.
I tear down the hall, yanking open the door and soaring down the stairs, tears of betrayal burning my eyes. The moment the night air caresses my heated skin, I kick off my shoes and take off in a dead sprint, needing to get away from this painful ordeal.
I don’t know where I’m running to; it just feels good to be free. My feet sink into the flourishing grass, but I push harder and harder, the burn in my entire body animating my every move. Spreading my arms out wide, I close my eyes. I wish I could take flight and leave my life behind. My life as I knew it is no longer and I don’t know what to do.
The cool wind whips at my face as my hair catches on the breeze, trailing behind me. I push forward, the adrenalin kick helping me to run faster. The moonlight illuminates the stables, a silent suggestion of where I should go. I tear inside, working on autopilot as I jerk open the door to Potter’s pen. He backs up, unsteady and frightened by my abrupt arrival, but when he senses it’s me, he steadies.
Without delay, I quickly put on his bridle, before I mount him, bareback, and squeeze my calves around his muscular barrel. “Let’s go!” I cluck my tongue twice, sending Potter into a high-speed gallop.
Loosely clutching the reins, I push my weight forward, allowing my body to become one with this magnificent beast as he dashes out of the stables and onto the vast land. I bounce in sync with his strides, squeezing my legs on his sides, encouraging him to go faster.
We have bonded and established a mutual respect and trust for one another. And we have also developed good communication over the years, so when I roar, “Hike!” he knows I want him to really stretch his legs and don’t hold back.
The full moon is the only light source we need as we ride through the fields, with no real destination in mind. As I lead him towards the back of the barn, an orange ember catches my eye, and I know without really looking who it is.
Saxon pushes off the wall, his eyes wide when he sees me sitting on the back of my horse with tears streaming down my face. “Lucy!” he calls out, throwing his cigarette to the ground.
But I don’t stop. I can’t. This is the first time in forever that I feel like I can finally breathe.
“Faster!” I yell, thumping Potter’s sides with my legs. He obliges. He runs faster and faster but yet, it’s not fast enough.
The world blurs around me and the fact I’m sobbing doesn’t exactly help either. But my mind is finally clear. There is no changing Samuel. He is what he is and he’s an asshole. I’ve tried my hardest to be understanding, to give him time to heal, but it’s not good enough. It’s never been good enough.
His cruel words sound over and over in my head, bringing on a fresh set of tears—tears of sadness, laced with a pinch of anger. If he doesn’t want to be here, then I’m not forcing him to stay. I only want what’s best for him. If he thinks I’m a hindrance to his progress, then he can leave. I won’t be blamed any longer. I’m sick of being the scapegoat. I am done.
As Potter gallops towards the mountains, the ground becomes bumpy and our ride becomes unsteady as I’ve never ridden out this way before. But I keep urging him forward, as the further away I flee, the better I feel.
My dress is hiked up, my hair is flowing freely, and I’m barefoot, riding my horse bareback—it’s an indescribable feeling of utopia. It’s exactly what I need. Sadly, my need for freedom has me losing my good judgment and as I steer Potter through dense vegetation, he suddenly becomes spooked and panics.
I try and calm him down, soothing him with gentle words, but it’s too late. The unfamiliar grounds, combined with the uneven earth and thick undergrowth, has him neighing furiously and suddenly slowing down his trot. He backs up as something I cannot see startles him.
“Easy, Potter,” I affirm, but he doesn’t listen. I try and steady him, but it’s useless.
Without warning, he rears up onto his hind legs, bucking me off his one thousand pound body. I don’t stand a chance holding on. I lose grip of the reins and get thrown feet away. I land with a painful thud, my body connecting brutally with the terrain.
Ignoring the stabbing pain in my temple, I automatically curl myself into a tight ball, afraid Potter will trample me. The s
tampede thankfully doesn’t come.
“Potter, easy boy!”
I cautiously raise my head, almost crying in relief when I see Saxon charging through the scrublands like a madman. He’s riding Luna, looking at ease on the powerful beauty. Potter neighs and gallops off in the opposite direction.
“Potter!” I scream, but the shooting pain in my temple has me dropping like a sack of potatoes.
“Lucy! Are you okay?” Saxon’s words are jumbled, broken down into slow motion.
The world starts spinning and I close my eyes when something sticky trickles into my right eye. I’m lying on my side, collecting my breaths while counting the billion stars flashing before me. I lie still, at peace, to gather my thoughts and push out the static. But when a wave of nausea rolls over me, I sit up as I think I’m going to be sick.
“Lucy? Can you hear me?” Saxon’s voice is my beacon of light and I hold onto it to stop myself from drowning.
“Y-yes,” I stammer, my voice ricocheting off the walls of my brain. I try and focus, thankful when his strong frame becomes clearer.
“Fuck, you’re bleeding.” He ties Luna to a tree before running back over to me.
“I’m fine.” I try and raise my hand to feel for blood, but my arm feels so incredibly heavy. It plops loudly into my lap.
“You’re not fine,” he rebukes, ripping off his t-shirt.
Before I can question if my eyesight is failing me, he drops to his knees before me and presses the garment to my forehead. The moment it connects with my brow, I yelp.
He recoils. “Sorry.” He eases up the pressure, but continues holding it to my temple, his face hard, mixed with concern. “What were you doing riding like that? You could have gotten yourself killed.”
Looking up at him from under my lashes, I don’t hide my embarrassment. Now that I’m not riddled with anger, I know that he’s right. “I know. It was stupid.”
His signature fragrance seems stronger, wrapping me in a bubble of pure masculinity. I never want to leave.
“What happened?”
Saxon isn’t silly. He knows for me to take off so irresponsibly, something heavy went down. “Samuel doesn’t love me anymore,” I pathetically reveal.
