I walk to the steps, stopping at the bottom.
“Hey,” I whisper.
“Hey,” she says softly. The tone in her voice is warm and sweet, but there’s so much sadness in her eyes.
We stare at each other, frozen. No words pass between us, but we see each other’s pain and confusion. The moonlight is reflecting off the water building in her eyes, making them sparkle. There’s been a noticeable shift in the way she sees me.
Wrapping her arms around herself, she looks away and asks, “Why are you here, Brad?”
I clear my throat and answer, “I needed to see your beautiful face. Lately, I’ve only been able to catch a glimpse of it as you whiz by me at the office.”
One nervous hand runs over her messy hair slowly. “I’m a sight.”
“You’re gorgeous.”
This is the closest we’ve been in days. I can hear the sound of my own breathing as it gets heavier and more labored. I clench my hands, trying to stop the twitching of my fingers. I want to touch her so badly. Heat spreads across my body as the ability to control myself disappears. Before she registers what’s happening, I run up the steps, grab the sides of her face, and crash my lips into hers. The kiss is aggressive, intense, and unapologetic. Moans fill the air as our tongues frantically stroke each other’s mouths. I need to be closer to her. She clutches my forearms for balance as I walk her backward until the wall stops us. I push my body against hers, grinding my hips relentlessly. Her body seamlessly molds to mine. I feel the bottom of my shirt slide out of my pants and up my stomach as Mabry’s hands curl around it. Her fingertips graze my side, causing a deep growl to escape my chest. I want back inside of her in every way—her heart, her soul, and her body. Suddenly, I feel her stiffen and her palms push on my chest, causing the kiss to break. She tries to move away from me, but I keep my hands firmly in place on either side of her face.
Gasping for air she says, “I’m sorry. I can’t. Not right now.” Tears stream down her cheeks, soaking my hands.
I lean in and whisper on her lips, “Come back to me, Mabry.”
“I’m trying.” We stare for several seconds, neither of us wanting to disconnect. Mabry makes the first move, angling her head away from me, causing my hands to fall.
I take a step back. “Try harder,” I say, attempting to make my voice sound strong and commanding, but instead it comes out shaky and weak.
Nodding her head, she whispers, “I will.”
“I love you so much, Mabry.”
Her head turns in my direction, but her eyes aren’t looking at me. “I don’t know why.”
“Because it’s what I was born to do, Sweetness.”
I linger a few more minutes, memorizing the way she looks, before heading back to my car. She’s still standing on the porch watching me as I pull out of the driveway. While Mabry disappears from sight, the overwhelming fear of not getting past this attacks my thoughts, and I feel the physical reaction take over. I pull into the deserted parking lot of a nearby office building and shut off the car. All at once my shoulders slump forward, my chin drops to my chest, the pit of my stomach bottoms out, and I’m free-falling. Pressure pushes against my throat, my eyes, my chest, and my resolve as the sobs quietly seep out of me. I can’t go back to that existence I had before Mabry came into my life. Losing her is not an option. We’re in this together and right now she needs me to hold on and be strong for both of us. I can’t change the past, but I’m going to fight like hell to ensure I have a future with her.
The tips of my fingers automatically draw back the second they make contact with the area, as I gently massage the shampoo into my scalp. The designated target on the back of my head has endured a lot of abuse this week. I’m completely out of control, no longer able to fight the need to self-harm. I thought a few days of distance from Brad would clear my head, but just the opposite is happening. Memories, doubts, and fears hold my attention more than career obligations or anything else now. My mind is always cloudy and I can’t concentrate for long. Tina found me in the firm’s library the other day. She had been looking for me because a client of mine had been waiting in my office for more than fifteen minutes. I was just sitting in there staring off into space. I can’t even remember what I was thinking about.
I carefully rinse the shampoo out of my hair, grab a towel, and gently wrap it around my head. Stepping out of the shower, I lose my balance, my foot skidding across the tile floor causing me to stumble backward. Luckily, I catch hold of the towel rack, stopping my fall. I steady myself and step out of the shower. Toweling off, I glance at the large clock on the wall in my bedroom. I have to be at the firm’s weekly breakfast meeting in twenty minutes.
Fuck, I’m not going to make it there in time.
I feel a surge of anxiety rip through my body. I quickly finish drying my hair and sweep it into a bun. I rush through my makeup routine, putting on only lip gloss, blush, and mascara. As I dash toward my closet, I grab underwear from the dresser. Trying to multitask, I attempt to step into my panties while walking and end up losing my balance for the second time this morning. Toppling forward into the closet, I catch myself on the wall before I fall flat on my face. Once inside, my eyes dart back and forth across my clothes as I clasp my bra.
I always pick out this shit the night before. Why didn’t I pick out something last night? Brad, that’s why. Focus, Mabry. Don’t think about him right now.
The sounds of my heavy breathing and the scraping of hangers along the rod as I frantically shove outfit after outfit past me fill the air. Finally, I decide on my sleeveless navy blue pencil dress and throw it on. I snag a pair of nude heels and a cardigan before sprinting around the living room to gather my phone, purse, bag, and my travel mug of coffee. I mentally check off items on my list while scanning the room one more time, making sure I have everything I need for the day before heading out the door.
The second the elevator doors open I make a beeline for my office, toss my things on the desk, and head toward the conference room. I pause outside the door and attempt to calm myself down before entering. Easing the door open, I step inside. I try to be as quiet as possible, not wanting to draw any attention. Maybe no one will notice that I’m late.
Keeping my gaze down, I sneak over to one of the chairs against the wall. I’m almost there when his deep harsh voice causes my eyes to shoot up, meeting his.
“Well, Miss Darnell, so nice of you to finally join us,” Mr. Johnson says, sarcastically.
All eyes at the conference table aim in my direction. Embarrassment rushes through me. “I’m sorry. I got stuck in traffic.”
A snide smirk crosses his face. “Yes, and the dog ate my homework.”
A wave of chuckles makes its way around the table, stopping abruptly when it reaches Brad. His expression is stern with annoyance at the snickering, but he looks at me with soft concerned eyes. I feel the tears building up as I slide into the chair. My emotions are so raw right now that the slightest reprimand stings.
“I always feel every screw-up is an opportunity to learn something. Today, Miss Darnell is your screw-up teaching tool,” Mr. Johnson states.
I hear another round of chuckles, only this time they’re being muffled by the sound of my rapidly increasing pulse.
“Stop it,” Brad snaps, looking at his father.
Ignoring him, Mr. Johnson continues. “This is for all you newbies. If you are even three seconds late to court you may as well not even go in. It’s disrespectful and arrogant. It says to the judge that your time is more valuable than his. This also goes for being late when meeting a client.” His blue eyes bore into me, pinning me to the seat. “I believe you kept Mr. Sanders waiting the other day, is that correct, Miss Darnell?”
“Leave her alone, now,” Brad growls, clenching his jaw.
“Yes, Sir.” My voice is weak and I can feel the slightest tremble in my chin. I need to get out of here before I fall apart.
“I suggest you get your act together, Miss Darnell, or re
think your career choice.”
“That’s enough!” Brad shouts, roughly pushing away from the table.
“I guess we’ve covered everything we needed to this morning. Meeting is adjourned.” His father gives me one last smug look before standing.
I stay in my seat while everyone files out of the room, leaving me, Brad, and his father alone.
Brad approaches his father, almost getting right in his face. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Don’t you dare speak to me that way, especially here, I won’t tolerate it.” Mr. Johnson gathers his notes.
“Oh, but you can speak any way you want, to whomever you want?” Brad accuses.
“May I remind you whose name is on the door?”
“You didn’t have to humiliate her like that.”
“A little humiliation never hurt anybody. It builds character.” As he heads toward the door, Mr. Johnson stops next to me and warns, “Two strikes, Mabry. One more and you’re out of here.” He glances back at Brad and then gives me a smirk before exiting the room.
Brad comes over and squats in front of me. “Are you okay?” he asks, raising his hand and tucking a piece of loose hair behind my ear.
“He’s right,” I say, my voice low.
“He’s an asshole.” His hand runs down the length of my arm, landing on top of mine.
“He’s still right, though. I’ve been letting too many personal things get in the way of my job.” I glance at him. The pain in his eyes is heartbreaking.
“It’s been a rough week. How about we order takeout tonight and rent a movie? We can just relax and spend time together. Put everything aside for one night,” he says as his thumb mindlessly runs over my hand.
I want to forget the past week ever happened. When I look at Brad I want to see a future instead of a past, but my mind won’t let me. The longer I look at him the more my thoughts snowball.
Girls targeted, humiliated, and tossed aside.
Becca used, discarded, and dead.
Dad letting Momma slip into darkness and then away.
Dad abandoning me.
Brad playing me.
I don’t want to end up like my mom and Becca.
I’m so tired of hurting. I want to be numb again.
“I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?” A flash of anger shoots across his face as his thumb comes to an abrupt halt and he stands.
Brad runs both hands roughly through his hair as he walks to the conference table. Resting his hands on his hips, he doesn’t face me. I start to leave when his plea causes me to stop.
“Please tell me what to do to make things better.” The trembling in his voice pierces my heart.
I swallow hard and answer, “I wish I knew.”
I robotically move through the rest of the day, trying hard to concentrate on the tasks at hand. Mr. Johnson doesn’t make idle threats. He meant it earlier when he said I had one more chance. Even though I’m one of the best new lawyers here, he doesn’t tolerate mistakes. I know something has to change. I’ve worked too hard to get where I’m at for my career to get derailed simply because my mind is cloudy.
“You seem very distracted today,” Jennifer says.
I simply give her a weak smile. My session started five minutes ago and other than the obligatory “hellos and how are yous” I’ve been quiet.
“Do you think it’s possible to forget about the past and change into a completely different person?” I ask.
“I definitely think a person can change. I think you can move on from your past, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea to forget about it, completely. The past keeps us grounded. It teaches us to be mindful about mistakes and destructive patterns that hopefully we won’t repeat. But it also shows us that nothing is permanent. No matter how bad we think a situation is right now, it’s only transient.”
I sit in silence for a few minutes thinking about her words.
“Mabry, I know this is only our second time together. It can be uncomfortable and awkward especially when you’ve never been to counseling before. But I can’t help you unless you open up and tell me what’s going on.”
“I feel like I’m fading into the past.” My voice is so low it’s almost a whisper.
“Can you tell me why you feel this way?”
“I found out some things about Brad’s past. When I look at him now, I see reminders of my pain and fear.” Tears trickle down my cheeks. “I keep trying to get numb, but I can’t. The feelings won’t leave me alone,” I say, sounding as if I’m in a trance.
A warm hand covers mine as a tissue appears in front of me. I glance up at Jennifer’s sympathetic expression. “It will take time to work through this, but don’t be afraid of feelings, Mabry. Feelings, even the bad ones, let you know you’re alive. When they go away, that’s when you should be afraid.”
“I’m becoming paralyzed by them.”
“Sometimes we have to step back from a situation in order to gain some perspective, to regroup. That way you are better able to decide what’s best for you. You deserve to be happy, Mabry. Don’t let ghosts from the past rob you of that.”
I leave Jennifer’s office just as confused as when I arrived. I try to think clearly about what she said, but the same continuous loop of thoughts that have been playing in my head for the past week keep forcing themselves in. I’m caught between the light and the dark. I can see myself hanging from a cliff. My fingers digging deep into the grass, dirt, and rocks, trying to stay above ground while my legs dangle aimlessly over the edge. The harder I hold on, the stronger gravity tugs at my legs. Then little by little the blades of grass break, the grains of dirt shift, and the rocks roll away until I’m free-falling. Glimpses of my mother’s life flash across my mind.
“She was just tired of being, so she finally made the choice that day to stop.”
“…you’re just like her.”
I’m in my car sitting in front of his place staring at the front door. Out the corner of my eye, I see the screen of my phone light up with a text.
Brad: Hope ur having a good nite. I love u.
I close my eyes as my head falls back against the headrest. I wince at the tenderness and quickly straighten back up. I don’t have the time to “work through this” like Jennifer wants. I have to take action now before I lose my grip.
I check my face in the mirror, grab my things, and get out of the car. With each step toward the front door, I shut down.
I take in a deep breath and knock. The door opens almost immediately. He greets me with a huge smile on his face.
“Hey Bright Eyes,” Ten says, as he steps back, gesturing for me to come in. “I’m so happy you finally came to your senses and called.”
I look up at his overly pleased face and my reaction is exactly what I was hoping for… Indifferent. Detached. Numb.
My heart is pounding so violently against my chest it feels like it’s about to break through. I grip the steering wheel and try to focus on my driving as I speed down the road, but my thoughts are scattered. I’ve been completely ignored for the past couple of days by Mabry. I’ve been swamped with clients’ cases as well as my own, but have still tried to reach out to her with no luck. Somehow she’s been able to avoid me at the office. She hasn’t answered her phone or returned a single text. I’ve been patient and have given her the space. Fuck that. It ends today.
I screech into the driveway and jump out of my car. I don’t even bother to check to see if her car is here. Running up the steps, I let myself into her place without warning, and slam the door behind me.
“Mabry!” I yell. There’s no response.
My eyes scan the room and then zero in on the two boxes sitting on her dining table. I walk over and open one. Some books, her diploma, her mom’s picture, and the one of the two of us are all inside. Clenching and unclenching my fists, I feel the vibrations and heat take over my body. My hand clamps down on the back of a chair. I’m hoping to ground myself before I ram it into a wal
l.
“Brad…” A soft and timid voice says behind me.
I don’t turn around. I’m not sure I want to look at her right now. “When were you going to tell me?” I ask through grinding teeth. Silence fills the room. “Answer me now, goddammit!” The decibel level of my voice is deafening.
I hear the click of the front door as it closes and then footsteps coming farther into the room.
Hesitantly, she says, “I wanted to wait until things were finalized.”
“You didn’t think this was something we needed to discuss?”
“It’s my career, so it’s my decision.”
Tremors run through my body as anger overtakes me. My grip tightens on the back of the chair. Every bit of strength and willpower I have is focused on staying planted in this spot, because right now all I want to do is go grab her by the shoulders and shake her.
“Why?” I ask.
“Why what? Be specific.” There’s a tremble in her voice, but also the hint of a challenge.
At that moment something in me snaps. I slowly turn toward her, piercing her eyes with mine, and fire off questions. “Why are you pushing me away? Why won’t you talk to me? Why are you leaving the firm? Why are you going to work with that fucking douche bag? Are these “whys” fucking specific enough for you?”
“It’s a good career move for me. Plus, I need some…” I see the tears appear behind her eyes.
“Don’t say it. I’m so fucking sick of hearing you say you need time.” I bite out. “How much time do you need, Mabry?” I start walking toward her. Each step corresponding with my words. “Be specific. An hour, a day, a week, a motherfucking year?! Exactly, what do you need time for, Mabry?”
There’s a struggle in her eyes. She’s trying desperately to replace the love in them with a numbing coldness. Her expression goes slack when she answers, “I need time away from you.”
I try taking in a deep breath, but the air feels thick in my lungs, as I choke out, “Why do you need time away from me?”
Past Imperfect Page 21
