Never Been Loved

by Kars, C. M.

  “I got discharged.” I need to tone down the asshole from my voice. “Where’s Matty?”

  I’m waved into her apartment. I sweep the empty couch, and move over to her kitchen where four guys and the chick from last time are standing behind the counter. The broad looks up at me, dark brows high on her forehead. I ignore the guys. I don’t have a say in any of this, I’m just here to get Matty.

  Focus.

  Matty comes running from behind the kitchen counter, and collides dead on with my legs, sticking his pointy ass chin into my thigh. His hair fans out all around his head, and Jules’ eyes stare up at me from his little face.

  You’d think I’d be used to the sucker-punch every time I look at him, but no. It’s still fresh, every single time.

  “Daddy,” he says, twisting that fist around my gut, forcing up my throat in hot shame, “all these boys here, they’re not Sera’s boyfriends. They’re her friends.”

  It’s really dumb that whatever tightness in my chest I had before walking in loosens at the sound of that when I’ve got no right to her. The kid has given a small ounce of hope and I don’t feel so run-down anymore. Yeah, right about now, I think I could bench press an eighteen-wheeler.

  Somebody’s choking, and I hear someone pounding that guy on the back as coughs turn into laughs at Matty’s antics. Kids have a way of doing that, making you smile, especially when they don’t belong to you.

  “That’s good kid,” I manage to say, watching the little guy as his arms tighten around my legs. I’m in for it; I should just give up. “Ready to go home?”

  I tear my gaze away from him, note the crocodile tears are for the benefit of our audience, and look around Sera’s apartment once more. This is her place, the artwork, the striped carpet, the smell in here like somebody’s been baking all day long. Mom’s place never smelled like this, never smelled safe and welcoming.

  The thought lights me up with anger again, and I move around Matty, dislodging his grip on me to get his pack off of Sera’s counter. I really need to sleep, I need to get my head on straight.

  I need to steer clear of my next door neighbour.

  “But I don’t wanna go home! I like it here! Look at all her movies! We don’t have this many movies at hoooooommme,” Matty whines, the sound like ice picks being driven into my fucking head.

  Jesus fucking Christ, what is this kid doing to me? I look at Sera who looks mighty interested in my boots again. How much of a shit does she think I am that Jules’ kid doesn’t want to go home with me?

  “Buddy, I’ve had a really long day. I just want to go home and sleep. Now let’s go.” Please, kid, don’t give me shit, not right now. Not in front of her. The little shit hugs my legs again, tighter this time, like he can stop me from going back to our place.

  “But I wanna stay heeeeeeeeeeerrrrre!” He whines, beats his fists against my legs, and I just let him. I deserve this; I deserve to be embarrassed in front of Sera and all her friends. And I’m so fucking tired of fighting when whatever I do will never ever be good enough.

  “Hunter, let’s go to the hall a sec. Matty, wait with Katie,” Sera says, looking to her friend to come do the unwinding of the kid’s arms from around me. Sera then opens the door, still not fucking looking at me, and waits ’til I head out into the hall first.

  I need to punch something, I need to scream until my lungs burst, and my throat’s ripped raw. I just need to be fixed; I just want to be normal.

  “You’re exhausted,” she almost whispers, and rubs her face quick when she thinks I’m not looking. Did Matty make her cry?

  “I think you left against medical advice, but that’s your deal. I just wanted to let you know that I can keep Matty the night. You can sleep without having to worry about him.”

  Who is this girl? Nobody’s that selfless, nobody.

  “Let me do this. You’ll be right next door, super close by.” Sera says.

  Yes, now she’s looking at me, and yeah, she’s been crying. Maybe they’re fake tears, just like the kid’s. Tears make me feel like shit, and even the kid knows how to manipulate me. I can’t take one more person doing it to me. FUCK.

  “He’s my responsibility. I don’t need you doing me any favours.” I grunt. “Why are you crying?”

  She’s not Aly, asshole. Stop it.

  Sera shrugs, and wipes hard at her cheeks, leaving them pink. Something slithers in my chest and I’m not sure what it is or what to call it. She’s goddamn adorable when I don’t need her to be.

  “It really sucks that he has diabetes. That you both do. It... just really sucks.”

  There, she’s done it. Sera’s blown my world apart. No one’s ever given me the tiniest amount of sympathy since I’ve been diagnosed. No one’s ever understood that it’s a battle to wake up in the morning, knowing full well that no matter how good I am, my sugar will drop and I’ll feel like I went fifteen rounds with Muhammad Ali back in the day.

  Fucking hell, I could tell her everything. I wouldn’t just let her in through a tiny crack in the door, I’d TNT every single wall I have and let her really look at me. Fear claws my insides and I know when my mouth opens something awful’s going to come out.

  “It hurts you, having to take care of him?”

  Her eyes are bright and she’s staring at me like I could be more. I’m going to have to disappoint her.

  “Yeah,” she says.

  “Good. Then you’ll keep away. Say your goodbyes in the morning. I need to sleep. And keep your fucking cell phone near you. The calls every fifteen minutes still stand.”

  I push off the opposite wall, using the last bit of strength I have and walk away. Let Matty and I have tonight. He’s safer with her, anyway.

  I carefully walk over to my apartment door, unlock and open it, shutting it tight like Sera’s going to chase me down and break it to get at me for being such a royal pain in the ass. I sag against it, resting my forehead against the cool surface, trying to convince myself that, hey, sleeping in a horizontal position is best.

  Then that fear clogs up my throat and makes my heart beat triple time. Exhausted as I am, I have to check my sugar before going to bed.

  Every step is agony, and the headache that was just background noise blooms in the center of my forehead and crawls its way to my temples. I don’t know how much longer I can do this. This isn’t life, whatever this is. You can’t call it life.

  I’m stable enough to go to bed, and I snag a couple of juice boxes from the pantry and plant them on my nightstand. I chuck off all my clothes and slide into sweats, socks and a thermal since I know from crashing I’ll be freezing real soon.

  I wrap the blankets around me tight, wrapped in more darkness while I will myself to get warm. The thought that chases me to sleep is how much warmer I’d be with Sera sleeping next to me.

  Chapter 8

  You left your nephew at a stranger’s house, asshole. Even though she’s beautiful and those green eyes of hers look like they want you, you still left the kid you’re responsible for at a stranger’s house. Get the fuck up.

  Groaning, I open my eyes and try to snag my phone that’s on the ground in one of the pockets of my jeans. I end up falling off the bed, gravity full-tilting me into complete awareness.

  Awesome.

  I lay there awhile, my muscles feeling like lead, and I’m wondering if I should just lie here forever and grow roots when the silence in the apartment rakes me with claws. No Matty. He’s at Sera’s.

  Phone finally in hand, I’m blinded by the light coming from my display and the numbers. It’s five o’clock in the fucking morning.

  I don’t care, whatever meagre parenting skills I do have, I need to put them to use. Plus, I told her I would call. I dial Sera’s number from memory.

  “Hello?” she says. Fucking Christ, why is she doing this to me? Her voice is all adorable and rough from sleep and shit, I want to hear it from the comfort of my own bed, her lying beside me. Shit.

  “Did he wake up at all?” Fuc
king hell, put me out of my misery. Sera doesn’t deserve this, she took care of Matty for me. Be nice. Even if you don’t remember how. I open my mouth to ask if I woke her up, or at least ask her how she is when she cuts me off.

  “I’m fraking great thanks, how are you?”

  Yeah, now I’m grinning, and I want to laugh. Shit, man, we’re so screwed. She must look so adorable right now. Hair probably a little mussed from sleep, eyes a little heavy from not being fully awake, lips all puffy and waiting to be kissed.

  And now I’m in trouble. There’s no use dreaming about a girl I can never have. Focus. “Did he wake up?” I say it through clenched teeth so I can stop grinning like an idiot.

  Five heartbeats and all I get is quiet. “Sera? Hello?”

  “How are you, Hunter?”

  That weird thing slithers in my chest again and it’s hard to breathe.

  Well, my life sucks, I have a four year old, just as sick as I am, who depends on me and I keep letting him down. I didn’t want to be a father, but here I am. And I think I want you in my life. Even only as a friend. I think I could be a good friend to you. If you’d let me.

  “I’m tired. I’m tired of all this shit. I’m really fucking tired.” It feels good to say it – to tell someone how bad I feel.

  “I hope ‘shit’ doesn’t include Matty.”

  Her sarcasm makes me chuckle, and it’s a struggle to choke it down. “Is he awake?”

  “Who the frak is awake at five a.m.?” she sputters, and I wonder if she’s rolling her eyes, or waving an arm around, or shaking her head with me on the phone.

  “What’s frak mean?” Maybe it’s from one of her mammoth books. Yeah, that would make sense, I can see her doing that.

  “Never mind that. We ate supper, I gave him a slice of cake-”

  “YOU DID WHAT!?” I’m vertical and I don’t even know how I got there. Blood pumps loudly in my ears, and I’m staring at the ground, wondering how I could’ve been so fucking wrong. I’m out the door and in the hall before I even know what’s happened.

  “Open you’re fucking door right now before I break it DOWN!”

  We disconnect, and I hear movement behind her door. She opens it, hair perfect, face a little puffy from sleep, eyes bright and glaring at me while she chest-bumps her way into my abs and I’m letting her keep me in the hall and not where Matty is.

  I’m shaking, I know. This is my fault. If Matty dies, it’s all my fucking fault. I may as well have gunned him down; the death would’ve been cleaner, quicker.

  I pull in air through my nose, enraged and wishing I could bodily move her out of the way so I can check on the only piece of Jules I have left.

  Fuck this girl, who the fuck does she think she is?

  “Let me see him. Please,” I order, moving forward enough that if I let myself touch her, I’m going to hurt her to get to Matty. I don’t think I want to do that.

  “He’s fine. Don’t wake him up, he’s had a long day,” she says, staring up at me with that face, those eyes that are nothing more than another treachery. Nobody cares to understand what happens to Matty and I, nobody cares that we’re broken and can never be fixed.

  I narrow my eyes and check the need to drive my fist through the wall about two inches off from where her head is.

  “You don’t know fuck all of what’s happening, of what he goes through.” Fuck this, I need to see him. I don’t care about her, I don’t care.

  I move closer and her knee connects with my balls. Just as the pain blooms in my lower abdomen, viciously twisting my guts and stomach so hard I gag and find myself horizontal on the hall floor, I can’t help but have a fleeting moment of pride. I think, that’s my girl.

  I wait for the pain to subside, and crawl back to where it came from. When I think I can move my hands, I do, and stare at her crouching down beside me, her face a mix of anger and concern. I want to laugh but I don’t want her to think I’m crazy.

  “I deserved that. Fuck. I deserved that.” But I need to make sure Matty’s okay. Maybe being threatening to a woman isn’t the best way to go about it. I didn’t know she was going to play dirty.

  “You’re giving me whiplash with your fraking moods. What the hell is wrong with you?”

  I almost smile. “There’s that word again. You gonna tell me what it means?” I ask, still on the floor, wondering if I try to move my legs if my poor balls are going to shrivel up and die from the agony. Better give it another few minutes.

  Christ, she’s showing a lot of leg. Oh, fuck, that hurts. I’m getting hard looking at her stupid fucking legs, and the pain in my gut is twisting me into knots, but Jesus I want to touch.

  “I don’t think so. It might spin you off into another fraking tantrum.”

  What? What did I ask her? Fuck it, another knee to the boys will be worth it. I swipe a finger along her smooth leg, marvelling at the texture, the heat of her. Her legs aren’t scrawny, but they’re shaped in a way that I know she’d be pressed into me in all the right places when I’m in her.

  Ouch. Stop it! We’re not fully recovered yet, asshole!

  Pulling a breath through my nose, I get vertical and fight the twitch in my balls that’s milliseconds away from full blown agony. I lean down carefully and place an open hand in front of Sera.

  Like always, I lose patience. I need to see Matty. “You just gonna stare at it?”

  Sera shakes her head in a way that reminds me of me when Matty says something exasperating. Shit, now I have her hand in my palm and it feels awesome and kinda lonely at the same time. I yank her up, and without another word, she turns around and lets us both in.

  I follow her, zeroing in on Matty on her couch, the blue glow of the TV the only light in the dark living room. I feel rather than see Sera stiffen up in front of me, then rush ahead and go to her knees right by Jules’ kid. Ah fuck, she checks his pulse and for a second, just the tiniest of seconds I think I’m free.

  When she lets out a breath and scrambles for Matty’s pack on her coffee table to check his sugar, crushing shame settles on me and tears burn my eyes. I’m repulsive. I should’ve been the one that died instead of Jules.

  Sera body checks me on her way to her bathroom and I hear her throwing up.

  Between you and me kid, Sera’s never going to want anything to do with us ever again.

  I check on Matty to make sure he’s okay. Underneath my palm, the strong beat of his little heart is a promise.

  The sound of her heaving her guts out doesn’t make me queasy, nor does the smell when I get to her bathroom. She’s partially collapsed over the bowl, pulling in deep breaths. I look to her sink, and pull one of those tiny hand-towels and wet it, ringing out all the excess water like a good little boy.

  I move to give her the cloth, pissed off all over again when she glances up at me with surprise and something like worry. I watch her wipe her mouth and slide her head back down to her forearms, relaxing.

  I take a seat beside her on the tile floor, letting the cold seep through my ass and wait for her to be okay.

  “What’s the number?” I ask softly, not wanting to spook her, or get another shot to my ’nads.

  “Fourteen. He has fourteen. I only gave him two units ’cause I didn’t know how he’d react. Plus, kids’ metabolisms are quicker than ours, and I didn’t want to give him too much and bring it too low and then go to the hosp-”

  Ah, shit. This fucking girl. Sweet, she’s really fucking sweet. I’ve never met anyone like her, ever. Maybe when I was a kid, when I was too stupid to see past a pair of hot legs.

  I lean forward and snag her hand, cradling it with mine. She’s strong and small, and a secret badass. I mean, she fucking practically carried me to the basement and got me to the hospital. She saved my sorry excuse of a life. I need to be a gentleman, whatever that is.

  “You took great care of him.” I stare at her – the dark circles under her eyes, from worry or lack of sleep, the way her hair is tangled at the end, the way she’s paled out
from getting sick and her eyes are shining brighter than ever. “Thank you.”

  She nods, a few shallow dips of her head. The kind of a nod a person does when they’re not really hearing what you’re saying. I try again.

  “Thank you for watching him for me. Thank you for taking care of him. For checking on him. For worrying about him,” I say against her knuckles, watch her mouth open in that way of hers like she’s waiting to be kissed.

  When I think she’s ready, I pull her to her feet, move her towards the sink with my hands at her hips. Not good for the boys. I tell them I’ll cut them off myself if I ruin this with her – they seem to obey.

  She brushes her teeth and I rinse out the hand-towel, waiting for her body to stop the after-upchuck shakes.

  “Come on, let’s get Matty awake, and we’ll go get breakfast.” I say to her reflection.

  Her eyes widen and again, I find myself wanting to laugh. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

  I shrug, not really knowing why. I should be a dick and chase her away, make her never want to see Matty and me ever again. Except I find myself unable to do that.

  “You fed him. I’m going to feed you. We’ll be even.”

  We’re at Chandra’s, one of Montreal’s oldest diners, where the smell of grease of fried eggs gets into your clothes, and the vinyl booths are ripped, spilling their guts out in cotton.

  Sera slides in opposite me, after waiting for Matty to get the window seat. It’s not lost on me that they look good together, even if the kid looks nothing like her. They still fit, and if asked, I’m sure a lot of people would say they’re mother and son.

  I hate the way she smiles at him, and the way he smiles at her like everything’s okay. I hate how tired I am, even though I suggested for all of us to go out and eat together. I hate that she can pick whatever she wants off the menu, and I can’t. I hate that if she were ever mine, we could never share food off the same plate.

  I hate how she pulled back her hair instead of letting it down. I hate those fucking circles under her eyes because I needed to sleep without having to worry about Matty, and it possibly was the best sleep I’ve ever had. I hate how easily she’s accepted all this, even after she had a meltdown in the bathroom earlier.