by Kara Liane
Of course, it should be a relief that he confirmed he’s in love with me for who I am. And it’s a relief as far as the age thing. But how can he love me if he still doesn’t know me completely? He needs to love that person too! Will he still love me when he finally knows? This is why I’m driving myself nuts because I’m too unsure.
I finally decide he can witness some life in me since I’ve remained mute and practically corpse-like. I put the mug of warm tea up to my lips and moan. It tastes so good. He breathes a sigh of relief. I try to drink it slowly and not be piggish. I guess I didn’t realize how thirsty I am. After a few more sips, I finally set the mug down next to the urn, and he eyes it. I don’t care what he thinks about it—William stays for now.
This is the first time Caleb has been in my room. Actually, it’s the first time I’ve really let him inside my space. Maybe I’m the one who messed this up from the start with trying to be so guarded. So, I’ll level with him. I can’t help but think if he understands what a headcase I am, then he won’t want me. Now, that could also work against me—he could want custody of our child. God, I hope not! I’m all for doing the co-parenting thing, but I can’t live without my children. I’m certifiable today!
I start to try to say something, but my throat is still so raw and dry from vomiting, crying, and dehydration. I pick up my mug to drink some more, and he tells me to take my time. I know he’s going to be disappointed when he hears what I have to say. It’s because it has nothing to do with me forgiving him, and everything to do with him finally getting to know the real me.
I close my eyes and begin my story. “I’ve been living with a ghost for many years—eons it seems. I’ve never told anyone my secret. Shit, I should say ‘secrets’ because it’s definitely plural. Not even Alexi knows. William knew, of course, as do his parents, but that’s because we grew up together. Sometimes I feel like my past is someone else’s life. I almost forget who that girl is. And then I may have a dream, or rather, nightmare, and it all comes flooding back.” I’m trying to work up the courage to tell him what I’ve been holding in for so long.
I open my eyes and I inhale while imparting this next admission. “I was addicted to prescription pain pills when I was sixteen. I tore my quadriceps in my right leg due to a volleyball injury. It took months to heal. I wouldn’t stick to the physical therapy, and I found it was easier to medicate. When my doctor refused to give me any more medication…well, I fell into the wrong crowd that would remedy the situation.”
He swallows hearing the words coming from my mouth. I shudder at the memories. I need to get this all out, though—it’s like trying to suck the venom out of a snake bite.
“Back then I wasn’t into boys, or school, or any usual teenage stuff because I was too consumed by the medication. Maybe that’s why I coddled William so much, because I could relate to his misery when his condition got so bad. An addiction of any sort is the strongest bond. You think mother and child is strong—which it is—but an addict and their choice of poison is probably more hardcore,” I painfully explain.
I hate the analogy I’m using, but I think it’s the only way I’ll get him to realize what it does to your life. Unless he’s personally experienced it or witnessed it, he couldn’t know what it’s like.
“My parents didn’t know what to do with me. It went on for over a year. I was getting terrible grades. I was completely withdrawn from life, and since I didn’t have volleyball anymore, I had nothing and no one. So, the pills were my best friend—much like I’ve always considered the bottle to be William’s mistress. One particular night, I was at a party, trying to numb my pain. My dad went out to find me and bring me home. I think he and my mom were finally going to put me into some kind of a treatment facility, even though they couldn’t afford it. I know my dad would’ve broken his back working overtime to get me the help I needed if that’s what it took. But it was too late…for him, that is.” Now I’m really choked up.
Caleb closes his eyes as if he’s reliving the memory with me.
“Once my dad discovered where I was holed up at, he raced over to the house party. Unfortunately, he never made it. A drunk driver hit his car and killed him instantly. It was awful and gruesome, but at least he was taken quickly. God, he was T-boned and never had a chance. The driver walked away with minimal injuries. Subconsciously, I’ve always wondered if I ended up with an alcoholic husband as some kind of a punishment and retribution for what I did to my family.” Now I’m crying uncontrollably.
I take a few minutes to swipe at my tears and still manage to go on, “I cleaned up my act on my own after his death. My leg was already healed, so obviously I didn’t need the meds. I quit cold turkey, believe it or not, and haven’t touched anything since. My penitence had to be a way to honor my father. That’s why I became a nurse. I needed to make amends somehow.”
I fidget with my skort and pull at the hemline. He reaches for me, but I hold up my hand, letting him know I still have lots more to say. “I wanted to help people because I couldn’t save myself or my dad back then. He died because of me. I was selfish. I lost my dad because I wasn’t strong enough, or brave enough, to say no to those little white pills. I think being a nurse was therapeutic because I could see all the good those pills could do—but God, those things are capable of so much destruction. I needed saving all those years ago. Then when I realized I couldn’t save William, well, you can imagine how I view it as one epic failure after another. My kids seem to be the only thing I’ve done right in my life.”
His beautiful brown eyes open and search mine. “Liz…God, I’m so sorry. I had no idea you carried all that pain and suffering around with you. You’re the most amazing woman I know. That’s not the only thing you’ve done right, sweetness. I’ve always seen you as a person who represents nothing but love, strength, caring, and comfort,” Caleb says as he kisses my hand, and I feel a tear leak from his eye, which lands on my wrist—the wrist that is no longer wearing his bracelet.
My voice is scratchy, but I’ll finish this story no matter what. “I ruined my mother when I killed my dad. She died right after I got married. None of my children ever met those grandparents. They only ever had William’s. And I’m sure you’ve noticed their contempt for me. Not only do they blame me for causing their son’s alcoholism, but they also think I enabled it. They’ve resented me since we started dating. Then once we had Tyler, well, their hatred only intensified. When Tyler was diagnosed at four with being on the spectrum, I was blamed for that too. They didn’t want to hear the possibility of genetics. They thought I did something in-utero to cause it.”
I bite my lip, thinking about the baby I now carry and how I’m sitting here with his or her father, and he doesn’t even know. Caleb reaches for me, but I don’t go willingly into his embrace; he more or less pulls me to him. I'm like a ragdoll, so I go with it. He’s rocking me back and forth. I know he’ll be a good father when the time comes and do this very thing with our child in a comforting manner.
I’m sure he can put two and two together to realize that William came into my life at a time when I needed a crutch. I thought he was the answer to my prayers. Then, when William started drinking, and it became evident alcohol would consume him, it became a bitter pill—or truth serum, rather—to swallow. It stung like a bitch that it was done at the expense of our kids.
Caleb is still holding me and telling me things—some things I already know, but I need to hear them anyway—other things are new to me. He explains that people all have pasts and family history. His was apparently just as dysfunctional as mine. Learning that he lost his infant brother, then had to deal with his mom’s depression and cope with his dad’s stress…oh God, it’s heartbreaking. I feel selfish once again for not seeing that other people carry pain too. Some of us are better at hiding it than others. And I guess Caleb has been good at hiding it.
It makes me sad that our baby won’t have any grandparents, but thankfully he or she will have plenty of doting aunts, uncles, and
cousins within our group. Plus, I know it goes without saying that Fred, Milly, and even Granny Lil will be grandparent figures.
He whispers to me over and over that I need to stop punishing myself. I really thought I forgave myself a long time ago, but I guess all this talking reopened the wounds.
He holds me for a bit longer before I finally pull away. He dries the remainder of my tears with his fingers, then wipes the moisture on his suit pants. We’ve been through a lot in revealing ourselves. The problems are not resolved—they’re far from it. I can’t do that today. And even if we do fix ourselves, it doesn’t mean we’ll fix us.
“I need to rest, Caleb. I don’t feel well. And I don’t want the kids to see me like this,” I say as my eyelids are already drooping.
Pregnancy takes so much out of you. Between the stress, the not eating well, the lack of sleep, and the vomiting, I’m not able to keep my eyes open. I need to get better.
“Don’t worry, sweetness. I’ll be here when you wake up. Just rest, and I’ll make sure the kids get home from school,” he says as he helps me lie down and get situated under the covers.
He kisses my forehead, and I feel his lips linger there. I breathe in his scent, and it’s like a shot of melatonin because it lulls me to sleep. I’m wiped out and gone within seconds.
Chapter 24: The Fourth is Strong in This One
Caleb
I made a few phone calls before the kids arrived home. I had a talk with Clyde, and in an interesting turn of events, it seems my promotion is pretty much guaranteed. I wasn’t expecting that. I’m not going to question it, but it seems Clyde was relieved when I told him what happened with Mrs. Price.
So, it leads me to wonder if he was the victim of a similar situation of sorts, or one in which she only thought she had Clyde in her back pocket. I’m still contemplating opening my own firm one day, but for now I’m loyal and will stick with the company as long as they stand by me.
My next phone call was to Alexi to give him the update on Liz. I was a mean SOB earlier when I chewed him out. It was unfair of me to do so. I was a jackass for blaming him for what happened at my office. It’s not Alexi’s fault…it’s mine. I apologized to him, and I think he took it in stride. I was angry because she never would have been at my office if I would have gone to see her at the lake house.
I was there for Alexi at a time he needed me most, when Caylan was in trouble. They needed legal counsel, and, of course, I stepped in. He doesn’t owe me a damn thing, but I’ve often pondered over the idea he somehow thinks he has to make it up to me. His friendship—no, brotherhood—is enough.
I’m still reeling from all that Liz revealed in her bedroom. I never would have guessed she struggled with so much in her teens. Our pasts are different but still coincide in some ways. I may not have suffered from an addiction personally, but, similarly, I watched what addiction of another sort did to my mom—my mom’s addiction was her grief. Of course, the medication ultimately killed her, but it was the addiction to grief itself that led to her demise. Mom was deeply consumed by it, and it took her from me the day Christopher died.
When the kids got home, I explained that their mom still wasn’t feeling well, and they completely understood. Leah started dinner—man, what a great kid she is! The boys got working on their homework. I even helped Kurt with some trigonometry problems, and that shit is hard. Why is today’s homework designed to make parents feel so stupid?
I may be a glutton for punishment because I can’t stop myself from hoping and wishing this will one day be my family. The kids and I really seem to get along. I would never try to take the place of their father, but obviously they didn’t have a relationship with him; I realize it doesn’t mean I can automatically be a replacement. Only Liz knew him before the alcohol, and it’s sad they never got to experience a warm, nurturing, and caring father figure.
I get how and why she ended up with him. It all makes sense now. It’s like the puzzle can finally be glued down because the pieces aren’t changing. I didn’t even realize I was missing pieces or that they didn’t fit before. No wonder why Liz thought I didn’t know the real her. I can accept her for who she is both then and now. I love all parts, sides, and pieces of her. I can accept her past. Can she accept me and our future? That’s really what it comes down to.
Leah tells me dinner is ready. She made a pasta dish, and it smells amazing. She said she’s going to let her mom know so she can join us. After a few minutes, a very bleary-eyed—but still beautiful—Liz comes ambling down the stairs. She looks so pale and gaunt. I feel the acid churning in my stomach because I contributed to her current condition.
I’ve never wanted to bring her even an ounce of pain and sadness. I want to be her protector. I’ve failed her. She thinks she’s flawed, well, I’m the flawed one. I will never be able to stop using the word perfect to describe her because that’s what she is to me and always will be.
I give a tentative “hello” to her and gauge her reaction.
As she comes toward the kitchen table, she gives me a small wave. I’ll take that as progress. Then, she kisses each of her kids on the crown of their head and tells Leah how wonderful she is for making the meal.
“Mind if I stay for dinner? I certainly don’t want to impose, though,” I say with puppy dog eyes and hope in my voice.
I’m going to use everything in my arsenal to convince her to let me back into her world. We’re back at the beginning taking baby steps. I will tell you that my face and irresistible eyes can and will be used against you in the court of law—I know, I’m a dork with my legal jargon!
“Sure. We’d like that, wouldn’t we, kids?” Liz says while looking around at her sons and daughter, seeing if she can read anything contrary in their expressions.
They all chime in that they want me to stay. It’s not just for selfish reasons I want to stay, it’s also because I want to look after Liz. I really believe she needs me—she just doesn’t realize it.
We all sit down, and I heap a big scoop of pasta onto my plate. I give my compliments to the chef, and Leah is adorably smug, as she very well should be; I’m moved each time I can make this young girl smile.
Liz pushes the food around on her plate, and every now and then takes a bite. I whisper to her, “Are you not hungry?”
She sighs and bites her lip. “Not really. I’ll force myself to eat because of the….”
She quits mid-sentence. That’s odd, I think.
“Because of the…what, sweetness?” I ask in concern.
“Please don’t call me that,” she says as quietly as a mouse and looks down at her plate.
It’s so natural for me to call her that. But I will do my best to refrain. I will bite my tongue for her. I apologize and tell her I’ll stop. She never told me what the because of the is, but I don’t press her any further.
The kids are chatting away among themselves about some movie, and they let me join in on the conversation. I help everyone clean up, and Leah goes to the freezer to get ice cream for everyone. I have a big sweet tooth, in case you didn’t already guess. And they have mint chocolate chip, which is my all-time favorite.
After ice cream and cleaning up the kitchen, I was going to suggest that Liz go lie back down and that I’d stick around for a little while longer. But before I can say as much, my cell rings. I look at the screen, and it’s Alexi.
“Hey, man, what’s up?” I ask in greeting.
Alexi’s voice comes across the line with a bit of excitement to it. “Hey, Anthony called me. It’s about Shanna. It’s time!”
***
Liezel
Thankfully, it’s a Friday night, so I don’t feel bad about keeping the kids out so late. We’re all so excited about the baby. Shanna’s a week past her due date. Goodness, I remember those days of pleading with God, just wanting the baby out already. Poor girl.
I must have gotten my second wind because I’m a little perkier. Maybe dinner, the nap, or Caleb’s nearness has put a little spark
back in me. It’s hard to believe that in seven months I’ll be welcoming another one of my own into the world.
It’s nearing midnight. She was in labor for a while before she was brought into the hospital. Anthony did everything by the textbook at home, waiting until her contractions were at the right interval; with him being a pediatrician, well, it’s certainly coming in handy. I’m sure he’s still a nervous wreck. I know sometimes I forget I’m a nurse because I’m always a mom first. But then your instincts kick in, and you find you can do both jobs when it comes to your children or loved ones.
Alexi, Caleb, Brent, and Gil are drinking coffee and huddled together. We girls are camped out on the chairs—well, me and Addison, that is. Everly is hanging with the guys. She has a mouth like them and can fit in easily with either group; we all adore her for it.
As for Caylan, she’s the only one of us who stayed home since she would have been too uncomfortable being this close to the end of her pregnancy. I don’t have a belly, and there’s no strain on my back yet, so the chairs don’t bother me. My kids are playing on their tablets; however, Leah keeps nodding off. I’ve asked them multiple times if they wanted to go, but they’ve insisted we stay for the big moment. It gives me hope that they’ll gladly welcome a little brother or sister.
Addison sits next to me, and we’ve been talking about her work. Then, she switches topics. “So, what did you think of the poem?” She hedges.
I knew it was coming. I’m sure she wouldn’t have brought it up, but everyone plainly sees Caleb and I are on friendlier terms just not together—so, I’m sure to her the subject isn’t off limits.
“It was beautiful,” is all I say.
She gives me a sympathetic look, then follows it up with a half-hug since we’re sitting side by side. I don’t want anyone’s pity or sympathy. But truthfully, I don’t know what I want. Every now and then Caleb glances my way. I’ll admit it’s sweet that he keeps checking on me and cares so much, but it’s getting on my nerves because I need a break from him to think.
