Last Chance

by A. L. Wood

  “Liam, would you hold me?”

  He doesn’t attempt to make a move, nor does he say anything in reply.

  “If you don’t want to that’s all right. I understand.” I say.

  I roll away from him so my back is facing him. Rejection burns throughout me, and shame for even asking him to hold me, threatens tears. As I am caught up in holding back my emotions, an arm wraps around me. I didn’t even hear or feel him move near me.

  “Goodnight.” He whispers in my ear.

  **********

  Like any other morning, I wake up to an empty bed. Pretty much an everyday habit of Liam’s. I’ve come to the conclusion that he is either an early riser, or he just doesn’t like sleeping with me. That maybe he sneaks out of my bed in the middle of the night. Staying long enough to appease my wants.

  Every morning I wake up my curtains are drawn, an annoyance of mine, and my bed is cold where he was to have slept. I slide out of my bed, get dressed, and make my way into the kitchen.

  When I walk in, I find Liam making breakfast and Layla sitting at the island bar blabbing away. I walk over to the Keurig pot and start my coffee. Lals has always known I have never been a morning person. This took Liam a bit to come to terms with. Liam had to have been born on sunshine and happy days. It could be four in the morning, and the man has his charmer smile already in place. I on the other hand, am not.

  After two cups of coffee, I’m ready to talk.

  “So what are our plans for the day? House bound again are we? I was thinking maybe we could go see a movie or something. I’m getting stir crazy, and the only time I leave is to go to the clinic. I love you both for it, but I feel like a child with you two around constantly.”

  “A movie sounds nice.” Layla agrees. She looks to Liam to see if he is in agreement.

  “What do you think Liam? Are you down for a chick flick?” I ask, smiling that there was a chance for fresh air.

  “I guess I could survive a chick flick, but only for you and you have to promise that this stays between us. It would ruin my bad-boy repertoire.” He says playfully.

  “I’m sure it would.” I say jokingly. Chick flick or no, I don’t think anything could ruin his image.

  “So did you have a movie in mind that you wanted to see? If not, why don’t you take a look at the showings for today, while I grab a hoodie and sun glasses. Nothing would ruin a movie date faster than someone recognizing me.” Liam says, making his way into my bedroom to retrieve his clothing.

  Our living room and kitchen are an open floor plan. You can see everything from anywhere in the room. I walk over to the coffee table, placed in front of the loveseat, where my cell phone is sitting from the night before.

  I pick it up and open the Safari app to search Yahoo for movie listings. I scroll through the showings and try to find the most emotional romance flick that I can. Just like with my music, I am a sucker for watching movies that will draw out emotion.

  Endless Love is what I decide on. A love story with troubles. Even with my own personal demons when it comes to attraction, I can handle it. If Layla or Liam knew, I am positive because of their worry that I will relapse, they would try to make me choose another.

  Layla is still sitting at the breakfast counter, now drinking her cup of coffee, when Liam walks back into the kitchen area.

  “So did you decide on anything?” He asks.

  “Well there is this movie that looks like it has potential to be a good tear jerker.” I say tauntingly, waiting for him to try to convince me that we should go see an action or horror flick.

  Two genres that I am not okay with seeing. The classical man’s man movie. Films that leave me with nightmares and occasional panic attacks. Anytime Layla puts one of those movies on the tube while I am lounging in the living room, I try to distract myself with reading.

  It never fails though. One minute I will be lost in the story I am reading, connecting with the characters that the author created, and the next I find myself intrigued by what’s on the television. I will try unfailingly to get back into the book, but then I’ll hear a noise coming from the movie or Layla commenting on what is about to happen; drawing me out of my Kindle even more.

  Next thing you know, I’ve sat through the entire movie eyes wide with terror, and when it’s finally over, and I try to fall asleep, I can't. And when I do, I wake up from a surreal feeling dream and am unable to fall back asleep.

  Some shows do it to me, as well. Layla is obsessed with The Following. I know that it’s on every Monday night, but every time it ended, I was doing it to myself all over again. There’s something about an Edgar Allen Poe fan turned cult leader that never disappoints in holding my interest. Regretfully.

  So nope, no horror or action, because the action always ends with someone dead.

  Liam breaks me out of my musings.

  “Are you sure you want to go for a tear jerker movie? Why not a comedy?”

  “There isn’t anything out in theaters right now that looks like it would be an actual comedy, to where I would laugh out loud watching. If I am going to pay to see a comedy, I better be barreling over in laughter, my ribs hurting and my eyes watering. In short, it better be worth it.” I reply.

  “All right, alright. Ugly cry movie it is. But don’t say I didn’t try to convince you otherwise. If I thought you would go for an action adventure flick, I would try to get you to see Robocop. Man that movie was the shit back in the eighties.”

  “Puh-lease. You’re barely four years older than me. First, I wasn’t aware that there even was an ‘original’ Robocop movie. I thought this was the first one. Secondly, you were born in the early nineties. So how in the world would you have known that the movie was the shit back in the eighties?” I say, laughing out loud.

  For a twenty three year old he always comes off as older, more mature. I think that’s another reason I have bonded with him so closely. Then there are times like these. Where I question his sense in taste. Robocop come on.

  “I was raised watching movies like that. It’s one of my most cherished memories of my family that I have. My folks watched movies from every decade, even black and white films. My mom’s favorite was Casablanca.” He says, all joking aside.

  This is the only time since I met Liam, he has ever brought up his family. Whenever I have made small talk about our pasts, he questions me; focusing all attention on getting to know my history.

  I have no idea what to say in reply to that. As much as I want to pry and ask questions about his family. Like where are they? Why doesn’t he bring them up? Anything for him to open himself to me, I cant. How can I expect him to make himself vulnerable to me, if I can’t tell him about my parents, or about Steele?

  Layla saves me from face planting over my words.

  “Casablanca is one of my favorites. We should rent it sometime and watch it. We could do it tonight if you guys wanted.”

  “I would like that if Princess is okay with watching an oldie. I haven’t seen it in years, with the band taking up almost all of my time.” Liam says.

  They both look to me for my approval. Layla knows I can’t stand black and white films, but for Liam I will suck it up for one measly night. I mean he is going to see a chick flick without any complaints, so I should only return the favor.

  “Sure, why not? We can go see Endless Love, grab something for lunch, and pick up that movie on the way home. Maybe stop at a grocery store and I can make us something for dinner?”

  “Nat you should pretty please make your barbeque chicken Alfredo.” Layla pauses and looks over to Liam. “Liam it is delicious. You wouldn’t normally think that barbeque and creamy Alfredo sauce would meld, but the tastes combined just burst in your mouth.” Layla suggests.

  “I guess I can give Liam a sample of my kitchen talents. I haven’t cooked in what seems like forever, and truthfully I am tired of takeout and your cooking, Layla. Chef Boyardee or Ramen do not count as homemade food.” I say, picking at her.

  Chapte
r 12

  Liam

  Layla let me take the keys to her car, something that’s quickly becoming a habit. Driving us to the local Regal theaters, my hands are gripping at the steering wheel out of anger toward myself.

  I can’t believe I brought them up. My family. I have only one confident, Ryan, and I am his. I loathe talking about my folks or even bringing up anything that might have a connection to them.

  I look over to Princess and the pain slowly dissipates. She is breathtakingly beautiful, and I desperately want to tell her I think so, but I don’t want to ruin whatever it is that we have between us. I don’t want it to make her uncomfortable, or for us to be awkward around each other

  It isn’t a sexual thing at all. I respect her far too much, to bring her into my life of self-hate and loathing. She doesn’t know it but late at night when I can’t sleep, I go out onto the balcony to reflect and as of late, Layla has made it a point to join me.

  We talk, and without her revealing too much in so many words, I know that Natalie has been through the ringer with overbearing pain. I know that she has no family alive, and I am almost certain Layla’s family factors into it in some way.

  I want to ask her about it, but I don’t want to face the rejection of her not sharing part of herself with me. Like the way that I reject her on a daily basis, when she tries to delve into my past in a not so secretive way.

  It’s something that I have been struggling with the past couple of weeks. We share a bed every night, yet we haven’t shared ourselves with each other in a commutative way. I’m certainly not looking for a relationship with her, much less with anyone.

  Ryan calls me constantly and always asks about her. I’m beginning to feel that he doesn’t call me to even speak to me. If he could call her, I probably wouldn’t be hearing from him nearly as much. But because of the not knowing how much Ryan played into Natalie’s trying to end her life, I haven’t seen it as a good idea to bring up the fact that he calls and text messages me daily to ask after her.

  He has this idea that she is his. Something he has repeatedly made clear to me. Although I have no idea how he has come to such a notion. She hasn’t ever, nor does she now show any keen interest in him. She doesn’t bring him up in any of the numerous conversations we have had about the band.

  Honestly, she makes it a point to ask about the band in whole. Never singling one person out. I almost think she despises the guy, and I wouldn’t blame her for how he treated her on the tour bus. It was probably a week of hell for her.

  Also I still think that Ryan was part of the reason she consumed all of those pills. She was thrown into a world she had no knowledge about, and was supposed to comply with whatever plans we had.

  I should have done more than I did. I shouldn’t have gone out with the guys that night. I have a feeling something monumental went down and maybe if I had stayed, I could have protected her. Stopped her from leaving which would have eventually stopped her from harming herself.

  I catch her most days in a daze of thought. If it wasn’t for the counselor she was seeing, she wouldn’t have an excuse to leave the house. She would have laid in bed shutting the entire world out, including myself.

  Fuck she tries to get me to leave every day, even though I know she doesn’t truly mean it. She just wants to prove to herself that she doesn’t need anyone. That she can survive on her own without ever letting anyone in.

  Princess breaks me out of my racing thoughts.

  “Hey! Have you been listening to anything I have been saying?” She asks.

  “No, sorry I was thinking about band shit. What did I miss?”

  “I was saying that maybe tomorrow we could go shopping. You only go out when I go out, and you could use some clothes. Besides you only have four outfits you have been wearing every four days. I’m sick of seeing you in the same thing, and it’s another reason to get out.”

  “I am fine with the clothes I have, but if you want to go out, we can go shopping for you. We need a fan in that hot box room of yours, since you won’t agree to turning on the central air that the apartment complex supplies.” I say, internally smiling. Happy that today she has made a choice on her own to go out, and that she is already making plans to do so again.

  “Its really not that hot, you exaggerate.” She smiles back.

  “So says the person who has dealt with summers in New York her entire life. I’ll have you know, I wasn’t raised with annual summers like you guys have here. My summer was like a spring for you.”

  “Where were you raised? Alaska?” She asks.

  Of course she is spot on. I was raised in the Alaskan town of Cordova. It was close to the border of Canada and Washington. My dad worked on a commercial fisher, and my mom was a stay at home house wife. The general American family then. Now for the normal American family to survive, both parents have to work.

  I reply to Natalie. What harm could it do in telling her where I was born and raised? It’s not like I would be telling her where my family was now, or that I haven’t seen them in years. Since everything went down.

  “Yeah smarty. I did live in Alaska. A tiny town called Cordova. Our hottest summer there was like sixty degrees. I can remember being excited as hell for a day that warm. So for me, weather here is like living in the Bahamas.” I tell her, while Layla listens from the back seat.

  “It’s really not that bad. I have been to the Bahamas and that’s way worse. Now that heat is unbearable. If you aren’t drinking ten glasses of water a day, you’re bound to get dehydrated.”

  I decide I don’t want the discussion to linger any longer on home, so that it doesn’t make Natalie think the floor is now open to ask any more questions. Nicely slamming the door on the topic, I quickly divert the conversation onto another topic.

  “So tell me, where do you call home?”

  “For now, home is Boston.” Natalie says.

  I had a feeling that they are not from here. I look in the rearview mirror to gauge Layla’s reaction. She’s looking forward toward Natalie in question. As if to say ‘Why are you just not telling him the truth?’

  “So where was your home? Come on I shared with you. You don’t even have to tell me the name of the town, just tell me what it was like.” I practically beg.

  “I’ve been trying for weeks now to get you to open up a little. Now that you’ve shared a tiny tidbit of your past, I have to share?” She asks.

  “Well Yeah. It’s only fair.”

  “I guess.” She huffs. “I grew up in New York. Not far from the state capitol. It was pretty boring. I lived in a very big house that was surrounded with lots of land. Layla lived across the street. Our parents were friends.” Natalie tells me.

  “What else? What did you do for fun?” I ask.

  “In those parts you had to be able to stand getting dirty, if you wanted to have fun. I loved it outside. I still do. Playing in the woods, making my own walking trails. I always wanted to own a four-wheeler, but I wasn’t old enough. My dad didn’t trust me, so I had to stick to using my bike and my feet.”

  “Tell me about your dad.” I ask, hoping she will open up a bit more. I feel the only way to help her with herself is to get her to open up about it.

  Keeping shit in. Bottling it up, it will eat at your soul until you can’t handle it anymore and you either do what she did, or you harm someone else. She could do what I did, and I am going to make damn sure she doesn’t.

  If I have to push her to the edge of that cliff, she’s fucking going.

  Chapter 13

  Natalie

  Liam pulls into a parking spot at the movie theaters. I still have yet to answer him. What do I say? I don’t want to flat out reject his questions, slam it down like he does to me. This is the first time he has asked me any question about my parents. Shocked, is an understatement when he has shown only interest in me, the now. My present.

  He turns the car off and stays seated. Layla makes no move to open the door to exit the car either. They are both wait
ing on me, Liam an answer and Layla just wants to see how I handle this.

  “Ready to see the movie? It’s showing in fifteen minutes. We better get in there so we can get decent seats. I prefer the middle. In the back you can’t hear as well, and in the front I always end up with a major stiff neck.”

  I couldn’t answer. I didn’t want to tell him that he isn’t important enough to me, that I feel I could actually open up and let him in. Kind of what he tells me daily, in so many words. But I couldn’t be that person, I would rather act oblivious to the fact that he had even asked a question.

  “Middle huh? I always prefer the back. No one can see you back there. You could do whatever you wanted, with a date. If you know what I mean.” Liam says.

  Dirty pig.

  Layla laughs out loud.

  “Layla I am guessing you’re familiar with what Liam is talking about?”

  “I’m not the Virgin Mary Nat. Plus, you are the only one that I know to be as saintly as her.”

  I can feel my face heat up in a flush. She enjoys bringing that topic up. A once truth, that is now a lie.

  I get out of the car first, to put an end to continuing this discussion; also hoping that they’ll both follow my actions, so we can go watch this movie. Layla steps out of her car from the backseat first, then Liam does the same.

  As we walk up to the theater, I start a conversation so as to not carry the awkward feeling from what happened back in the car.

  “I haven’t been to see a movie in years, and I cannot wait to get in there and order some movie theater popcorn, with extra butter of course. I’m not sharing either, so you guys will have to get your own.”

  “Movie popcorn is always stale, like it’s been sitting in a popcorn maker for days, so don’t worry about sharing. I don’t know how you can eat that shit Nat.” Layla disagrees.

  “Yeah I’m with Layla on this one Princess. I, on the other hand am here for the gummy worms, and the chick flick of course.” Liam joins in.