Losing a Piece of Me
Page 8
My head dips forward into my hands.
“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe she doesn’t tell you goodbye because she can’t?”
I scoff. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“She loves you, Striker. She doesn’t tell you goodbye because it would hurt her too much.”
“But just up and leaving, and staying away for years at a time doesn’t bother her?” My blood is starting to boil again, and my voice drips with an acidic edge.
“I didn’t say it makes sense.” Pops stands and moves his bar stool back into the corner. He picks up a white towel and begins wiping the counter as people start filing into the diner. It’s going on noon and the old booths and chairs will soon be full of church-goers, hungry after a morning spent sitting in pews.
I take one last sip from my coffee and slide it over. “I’ll get out of your hair. Put that damn check somewhere safe before you lose it.” I point at him as I make my way toward the door.
As I’m walking to my bike, my phone rings and I pull it from my pocket. “Hello?”
“I got us four more crew members,” Jordan says excitedly over the line.
“Damn, four?” I sit on my bike but don’t start it. “Who all did you get?”
“Mark, Seth, Garett, and Shaun. Billy wants to come to, but I figured you wouldn’t want his dumb ass on your crew.”
I laugh. Billy can’t show up sober. He fucks around most of the day. I think the only reason Vick let him stay on his crew was to have a gopher. His official job duties included such hard-hitting tasks as picking up coffee and lunch for the rest of the crew, and running back and forth to the lumber yard whenever we needed something.
“Sounds good. I’m just about to jump on the bike so I need to get off here. I pick up the check tomorrow and, for a few months, I’ll be running the company out of my garage until I can find a good-sized utility van or trailer to store the tools in. I’ll be in touch.”
I slide the phone back into my pocket and fire up the bike. Something feels off-kilter inside of me as I head for home. I don’t want to go back yet; my bedroom will only be filled with last night’s memories.
Changing my route, I hang a right at the lights and pull into a parking stall in front of the bar. Home will still be there when I am good and ready to get back, but for now I just need to waste some time and distract myself.
A cold bottle of beer, already dripping with condensation, is placed in front of me in exchange for some wadded-up bills dug from the bottom of my pocket. I sit absentmindedly with the bottle in my hands, but don’t move to drink it or check out my surroundings.
“I thought you were too good for a place like this.”
My blood has been running hot all day, but it turns to ice at the sound of his voice. Instinctually, every muscle in my body tenses as adrenaline pumps through my veins.
I straighten my back and raise my shoulders, turning in the direction of his voice. He is sitting three stools down from me, with an empty stool and an older man, whom I don’t recognize, in between us.
Our eyes lock and a smile dances across his face as he scoops up his beer, with all the care and love of a parent picking up a beloved child, and sits in the empty stool next to me. “I’d like to buy my son a shot of whiskey.”
The bartender moves, but I stop her. “I don’t want any whiskey. It’s barely even noon, I’m not here to get drunk.”
“Then why’re you here?”
I study my dad. His unkempt dark hair is greasy and tangled, dangling out from under his dirty Ford hat like an old, dirty mop. Deep bags under his eyes cast shadows that are swallowed up by the wrinkles that have overtaken his face in the years since I last saw him.
“Just wasting some time.” The beer is still sitting uselessly in my hand, completely full. Looking at my dad, I don’t know if I want it.
“I heard that little bitch came back to town. You giving it to her again?” He raises his bottle to his lips, but waits to take a drink while he looks at me.
“How is that any of your goddamn business?”
A soft chuckle trickles from his mouth as he takes a long pull from the bottle.
He shakes his head and looks at the bar. “Are you ever going to fucking see it? You’re just as fucking blind as I was. You know that?”
I want to know what it is that he thinks I’m too blind to see, but I don’t ask. It’s all just some drunken mumblings from my alcoholic father. Nothing more.
It’s not worth it to stick around and finish my beer, so I leave it on the bar and push my barstool back. Before leaving, I lock eyes with my father and say, “If I ever hear you call her a bitch again, you won’t have to worry about how you’re getting home from the bar, because you will be leaving in a body bag. Or are you too blind to see that?”
I shove the door open and jump on my bike, cruising through the countryside instead of going home. Wind whips through my hair and across my skin as the roar of the motor cuts through the silence. The constant vibration of the motor helps to relax me, gradually teasing some of the tension out of my muscles.
I don’t know where I’m going, but I don’t care, I just need to ride. I just want to get away from my father, from this town, from her.
She can run from me, so why can’t I run from her?
I guess the only difference is that she doesn’t care that I’m running from her.
The whole ride is spent in a daze, with no destination in mind. After some time, I park the bike next to the road and climb off. I walk to the edge of the small cliff and look down at the shallow water pooled at the bottom. A small trickle of water flows over the cliff’s edge and into the pool of water below. It isn’t much, but it hasn’t really rained in a while either.
Seated on the ledge, legs dangling over empty space, I feel my mind and body start to relax. I rummage through the sidesaddle of my bike and dig out a cigarette, which I light against the hot muffler.
The day’s events play through my mind. I think about Lex and how I shouldn’t have walked away from her. She felt something and I knew it. I saw it. Now she’s gone and I have no idea when, or if, I will see her again.
When I do, I will probably have to start all over again. Enough time will have passed that whatever I made her feel will be faded away. How many times can I do this?
“Striker, I don’t know if I can.” Lex peeks over the side and looks down at the water below.
A week of heavy storms has filled the pool below us to its brim, and the typically docile stream running over the side of the cliff is now nothing short of a waterfall, rushing over the edge to plummet into freefall.
“You’re not going to chicken out on me now, are you?”
She takes a step back and wraps her arms around her. “I don’t know, Striker. I mean, what’s down there? What if we land on a rock?”
I narrow my eyes on her, silently challenge her. “I didn’t think you were afraid of anything.”
“I’m not afraid.”
I can tell she’s trying her hardest to be brave. I hold out my hand. “Trust me.”
She studies me for a long moment, but I can feel our connection before she even reaches for my hand.
With my eyes on hers, I walk her to the edge. “On the count of three.”
She nods, but she doesn’t talk or look at me. She’s looking at the water below, fear written across her face.
“Hey.”
Her eyes dart to mine.
“Don’t look down there. Just look at me. It’s just me and you, remember. No lies, no secrets, only trust and love. Are you ready?”
She nods, but her eyes flash back to the water below us.
“Lex.”
She brings her eyes to me and I pull her closer. I press her to my side and press my lips against hers. I can feel her fear and anxiety fall away as her body melts against mine.
I pull away and look into her bright blue eyes, eyes that are clouded with excitement. “Three!”
We both jump.
We crash into the water, hands still locked together.
When we break the surface, she’s laughing and she throws her arms around my neck while cheering.
“We did it!”
I brush the wet hair off her pink, flushed cheeks. “You did it.” I crush my lips against hers, overflowing with love for this girl. She’s mine and only mine, for the rest of my life. No one will ever compare.
I take a long breath and wipe my eyes. The stinging dryness of my eyes, which now feel like sandpaper, reminds me of how long I have been staring at the water, lost in thought.
I dig my knuckles into the corners of my eyes, rubbing away the memory until they are moistened again by tears. It’s about time to head home, but before I close the distance to my bike, I give the cliff one last look, longing for what used to be.
It’s almost like I can see us standing there, right on the edge, ready to jump.
I’m ready to jump, I just have to find that connection once again.
Chapter 9
Walking into my apartment, I feel like a completely different person. It feels like a year has passed since I’ve last been here. Smoky is passed out on the windowsill, perched above a full food dish which tells me Jeff did as I asked and I now owe him.
Sleeping with Jeff has always been fun, until now. Now I feel a sense of dread about it. Seeing Striker has fucked with my head. It’s like I’m eighteen all over again and just left him for the first time.
My heart feels swollen with love for him, but it’s so full that it’s cracking. An unidentifiable pain lingers in my chest, and it won’t go away no matter what I do.
I look around my quiet apartment. The peace and loneliness used to be something I loved, but now it’s too quiet. I drop my bag on the living room floor and plop down on the couch. I stare at the TV even though it isn’t on.
Why am I feeling like this? We slept together, it meant nothing.
At least, I’m trying to convince myself it meant nothing. If I admit how much it really means, I’m afraid I will do the one thing I’ve always wanted to.
Go to him, confess all my secrets, and hope he takes me back.
I can’t do that though.
It’s not just our relationship on the line, it’s my whole family. My sister will be just as affected by it and she didn’t do anything to deserve this. My mom has never been my favorite, but I still don’t want to hurt her. And my dad, the one who caused this whole mess.
He still doesn’t know that I know, and it’s been so long now that he thinks he’s gotten away with it.
He doesn’t know that Striker’s dad, Ken, knows. He doesn’t know that his bad decision, which happened over 13 years ago, haunts me to this day. He doesn’t know that it’s the reason I ran away, and he doesn’t know that I’ve been living this life without my other half all so he can have his.
He doesn’t know any of that, and if it’s up to me, he never will. No one will. Not even Striker.
Thoughts of my other half make my eyes sting with warm tears. He always has been somewhere deep inside, I always knew it. But admitting it to myself is wreaking havoc on my emotions.
He knew what he was doing all along. His words replay in my head, “You were allowing this so you didn’t have to feel. You were using me as an escape, and that’s not how this is going to go, sweetheart. I’m going to make you feel again, Lex. If it’s the last fucking thing I do, you are going to feel this.”
Well great fucking job, Striker, because now I feel it. I feel it all, the decade of friendship, the years of love, all the trust, lies, and secrets. I feel it all like it just happened yesterday and it’s threatening to crash down on me.
I knock on the door and step inside. “Striker?” I call out.
“He’s not here,” his dad answers from somewhere in the darkened living room.
“Oh, okay.” I turn to leave the house but the light flicks on.
“Wait.”
I turn and study Ken. I can usually tell how drunk he is just by looking at him. His eyes aren’t as bloodshot as they usually are but he has a face of stone, showing no emotion.
“Do you know what my fucking son said to me tonight?”
I shake my head, debating whether or not to sprint out of the house, as far away as possible.
“He told me that you two are out of here as soon as you turn eighteen. Is that right?” His head cocks to the side while his eyes burn into me.
I open my mouth to speak, but words don’t come. He knows. What will he do? Will he try to stop us?
A menacing laugh bubbles up as he stands and slowly walks closer to me. “Fucking Grants. You people think that you can do anything you damn well please just because you have money.”
“I don’t know…” I’m shaking my head but he cuts me off.
“I know you don’t know. He thinks he covered it up, doesn’t he?”
“Who?” Panic is rising in my voice. I reach behind me and place my hand on the latch to the storm door.
“Who? Who!?” he yells. He takes another step closer and the stench of alcohol wafts into my nostrils, even though he is several feet from me. “Your fucking father! The king of the town!” He holds his arms out to his side, like he’s taunting me into some sort of fight.
He takes another step and another, and before I know it, he’s directly in front of me. He looks down on me with his dark eyes. “Your whole family thinks they can take whatever they want. I’m not going to let you have him, you know? He’s my son. Mine!” he yells loud enough to make me cringe. I’m frozen in fear. The storm door latch is still in my hand, but fear freezes me in place. My feet won’t work.
Before I know what is happening, I’m falling backward. The door opens from the outside and I land in Striker’s strong arms. He sees the fear in my eyes and he stands me upright. His eyes flash from me to his father. He wipes my tears away with his thumbs and moves in to place a soft kiss on my lips. “Wait for me in the garage,” he whispers.
I nod, still shell-shocked. He releases me and I walk a few feet away. Before I open the door, I look back to see Striker still standing there, watching me. His chest is rising and falling quickly and his jaw is set. His eyes are burning, he’s pissed off. He nods me on, so I open the door and step inside. I turn and close the door behind me, but I peek through the crack at the last second. I see him run into his house and hear a solid hit. He went after his dad.
I should have listened to him that night. Ken was pissed, but if I had only remained calm instead of being a scared little girl, I could have picked up on a lot more. It was still another year before I discovered what secret Ken knew about my dad.
At the time, I didn’t want to hear it, I wasn’t ready. I didn’t ask the right questions and didn’t care to not know. I know that if he would have shared the secret with me on that night, I would have made all the wrong choices.
I would have told Striker, he would have blamed me and he would hate me. I would have confronted my dad, and who knows what would’ve come out of that. My mom could have overheard, and the secret would’ve ended our family.
I didn’t have Striker, but at least my family still had one another.
With my heart pounding in my chest, I pick up my phone and call Hannah.
Hannah became my first friend when I moved away from home. During the course of submitting applications all around town, I walked into her store and asked if she was hiring. Her dark eyes were transparent to the feelings held behind them, and I could see a flood of sadness and anxiety barely restrained as she told me the store was about to close. My heart longed to connect with her and help somehow, and we ended up talking for hours. The next day, we wen
t to the bank where I bought the building with my college money. It saved her store and I was made co-owner. We’ve been best friends ever since and haven’t looked back.
“Hello?” she answers.
“I’m back in town, up for a drink?”
“Hell yeah, I’m closing up now. Meet me at the bar around the corner?”
“I’ll be there.” I hang up and grab my purse.
Smoky doesn’t move, but I rub his head on my way out.
Ten minutes later, I walk into the bar where Hannah is already sitting at a pub-style table with two drinks.
She stands and I hug her. Immediately, she knows something is wrong.
“Spill it.”
And I do. Everything from going back home, seeing that house and those people, seeing Striker, the man I love and had to run away from, sleeping with him and all the feelings that it brought up. I tell her all of it.
“Why do you keep running from this guy?” she asks as she slips a section of her rainbow-dyed hair behind her ear.
“You know why.”
“That shit that happened with his dad? Who cares? He is a grown-ass man, I think he can handle the truth.”
“It’s not just that. What if I get back together with him and his dad does what he threatened all those years ago?”
“What happened… that was a long time ago. I mean, do you think it would even matter anymore?”
I shrug. That’s not a chance I can take.
Hannah doesn’t press for more. She knows me. She knows if she pushes too hard, I will shut down and shut her out. It hasn’t happened many times, but it has happened and she hates it.
Instead of pushing me, she lets the subject drop and instead, she talks about the store. She takes my mind off of it all.
As I stagger out of the cab in front of my apartment building, I look up and see two of everything. My mission for the night has been accomplished: get drunk enough to stop caring.
I’m only inside long enough to strip out of my clothes and get washed off. Before I’m even out of the shower, I hear Jeff yelling for me.
I turn off the water and wrap a towel around myself, heading toward the living room.