by Shey Stahl
“You’re going home, Rawley. We don’t really give a shit if you go to the wedding. It’s your business, but whatever you decide, go back to Lebanon.”
“Who the hell do you think you are? You can’t just stand there and tell me what to do.”
Beck cuts me off by stomping toward me, only stopping inches from my face. His blue eyes burn, face puce with anger as the tendons in his neck protest and give his annoyance with me away.
“See, that’s where you’re wrong. I can tell you what to do.” He pauses, shaking his head and straightens out, crossing his arms over his chest. “Or better yet… Sam can.” My eyes snap to his. The fucker called our manager. “Dylan called him last night after your little performance both on stage and from the floor of the bathroom. You destroyed his fucking bar last night after we left. Throwing bottles around… you’re a fucking mess, and Sam agreed to give you one month to get your shit together. One month to figure out who you want to be, and if you can’t straighten out and get your shit together…. If you can’t do that, we’ll get someone else to be the front man who can actually remember the lyrics to the songs he writes.”
Ignoring the smoke in my head, I smile and put my cigarette out on the table and toss it aside, not giving a shit where it goes. “You’re never going to find someone as good as me. I make this fucking band.”
He knows that. He can’t fucking deny it. “That may be true, but we’re better off trying because we had plans, Rawley. That’s what you’re forgetting. This band isn’t just your dream. It’s ours too and we finally made it, and you’re throwing it away. We can’t let you do that.”
My hands shake, emotion cracks through because I know there’s truth in it and I don’t want to see it. I can’t see it. I’m swimming in the shallow end, avoiding the deep end because I know what’s there. Weak and powerless, I’m fucking blind to everything around me. I’m turning, twisting, sinking deeper than ever before. I’m hopeless without a pulse for what’s right or wrong. Everything’s dim and out of focus when I blink. I’m dizzy and it’s not in my head. It’s my body reacting to the way I’ve treated it for years.
Taken by the seamless vision of my boys turning on me, I stand, the chair couch against the wall. “Fuck both of you.”
Neither one of them say anything more to me.
“You fucked up,” I whisper, because this is me. I did this. I can’t blame them for it.
I step inside my room. Tearing the sheets from the bed, I kick the mattress, the wall, anything I can think of that might possibly give me some relief, but it doesn’t. I turn around, scanning the room. I tore the room apart in a state of panic, and I don’t even know why.
Whatever bottom is, I think I’ve officially hit it.
For the last year I’ve been drunk-wasted nearly every day in an attempt to forget this fucking farm-filled shithole people call home. I hate it here. I’ve always hated it here, but for the longest time, I had every intention of never leaving. For her.
Sophie wanted to stay here, get married and raise a family like almost everyone does here.
I wanted that.
And then she destroyed it.
She fucking ripped those wants away with a night.
“I wanted to know what it was like to be with someone else.”
That was her excuse.
Her.
She’s on my mind whether I want her to be or not. I wonder if she thinks of me like I do of her, if we’re both living and breathing the same memories.
I cut the engine to my bike in front of my childhood home and close my eyes, loving the warmth on my face as the sun beats down on me. Part of me doesn’t want to go inside because it’s clear there’re people here, maybe some I don’t know. My presence is more than likely not wanted. I didn’t even tell anyone I was coming.
I’m still pissed about them basically telling me to leave, but somewhere on the ride down here, I began to realize there was some truth to everything they said to me. Having my boys turn their back on me was just a reminder of what I was doing to everyone around me. At some point I’d have no one left.
Bolts of nervous energy streak through my veins as I stare at the house, then back at my hands. I remove my gloves and place them inside my helmet.
Sighing, I swing my leg off the bike and stare at the house again and the cars in the driveway. My mom’s car is here, Raven’s parked behind hers, Red’s Nova is behind that. And there are two more cars I don’t recognize.
Laughter erupts from the backyard and I notice it’s probably kids. It’s a Sunday night. I imagine it’s some kind of get together for the wedding. Though I have no idea when the actual wedding is.
Part of me doesn’t want to go inside. Okay, most of me doesn’t want to walk through that door because I don’t know what I’m going to be met with. I know Mom’s not happy with me, and Raven, she barely talks to me anymore either, but it’s not like I’ve been making an effort either.
With my helmet in hand, I remove my jacket and make my way up the driveway to the garage. It’s open and I don’t know why, I’d rather walk in through the garage than the front door. So I do. I enter through the garage door and into the long hallway that leads to the kitchen, my heart in my throat.
Setting my jacket down on the bench near the door, I place my helmet on top of it and then turn around to see Mom staring at me.
“Where’d you get that bike?” she asks. No hello. Just that.
I shrug, my hands buried in my pockets. “I bought it.”
She’s standing near the kitchen island cutting what looks to be carrots up, but she drops the knife and reaches for a towel, her eyes darting from mine and then to the backyard behind me. “Did you sell your truck?”
I don’t reply and I don’t turn around because I’m not ready to see what’s waiting in the backyard.
Mom steps out from behind the island and raises her arms as if she’s going to hug me, but her eyes never move from the backyard. “I’m glad you came,” she notes, drawing me into a hug.
For a moment I don’t hug her back, and then I do because I can’t not hug her. Removing my hands from my pockets, I wrap them around her waist and squeeze.
“Jesus, Rawley, you’re skin and bones.”
I chuckle and pull away. “I’m fine.”
She draws in a heavy but shaky breath, and I can tell she’s nervous about something that’s in the backyard.
I don’t want to turn around because there’s something stirring inside my chest. She’s here. I can feel it. I can’t focus on anything. Nothing. It’s all gone, every thought sways to her and I turn around to face the backyard. The second I see her standing there it takes every ounce of control I have not to run to her. Fear, anger, regret, it surfaces like coming up for air.
My girl, my tormented decisions lie within her, standing relaxed in jean shorts and white shirt. Soft blonde curls drape her shoulders, cheeks pink.
A lump lodges in my throat. I shake my head to clear my thoughts but I can’t. I can’t think, knowing she’s right outside.
As I step onto the back deck, my vision becomes clearer and I see exactly what my mother was nervous about.
My cousin, Jude, with his arm around Sophie and he’s holding a baby in his arms.
At first, I don’t think much of it because what do I care if my cousin has a baby now. What I do care about is the fact that it’s my girl his arm is wrapped around.
Jude notices me first, his gaze pinned on me, torn between what, I don’t know.
Clenching my fists, I turn. I’m avoiding the moment. My mother is suddenly beside me, making me look at her. “Do not do anything you’re going to regret.”
I can’t see straight. It’s like everything around me grows fuzzy and unfamiliar. My muscles freeze like they’ve turned to blocks of ice. “What is this? Is she with him?”
Apprehensive eyes search mine. “You need to talk to Sophie. Alone. This is between you two, but now is not the time to have this conversation. We’re havin
g a nice get together tonight and you will not ruin this for Red and Lenny.”
I can’t help myself. My eyes betray me and move to her. It’s then, finally after a year, they lock together, wide and unmistakably caught off guard. She’s staring at me.
My cousin turns too and whispers in my girl’s ear, handing the baby to her.
He has the fucking nerve to walk toward me. My whole body tenses, shakes with anticipation. He doesn’t have the balls to say anything.
He approaches, stance confident as his shoulder knocks mine but still, my eyes remain on her.
I take a covert glance at him, then back to Sophie. “Good to see you, man.”
I say nothing. I don’t move. I want to fucking murder him at the idea he touched her, that any man besides me has ever touched her. My stomach burns with jealousy.
Mom rubs my arm, fingers gripping my forearm. “Please don’t, Rawley. I’m begging you.”
Sophie approaches, tentative steps. I can’t breathe. Each step she takes, it gets harder and harder. I wonder if she’s hurting. I wonder if her throat is tight like mine and choking on words she’s dying to say.
The baby in her arms, brown eyes curiously looking around, fusses, his lips turned down and when he sees my mother, he practically lunges for her.
“Hey.” Mom reaches for the baby while my pulse drones in my ears, slow and steady as if I’m under water and that’s the only sound. “Let me take him inside. Maybe it’s the noise out here.”
And then I’m alone with Sophie, nothing else around me in view, but her. She looks the same, but different, a little older, the years of stress I caused catching up with her.
“Hey,” she says, tucking blonde curls behind her ear, panic set in her eyes. She wasn’t expecting me.
She makes me feel alone.
She makes me feel lost.
I have to clear my throat, but I don’t say anything. The words won’t come out. They just won’t. My body turns toward her, wanting to submit. But looking at her is too hard. It’s all there, etched in every line in her face of how our entire relationship went. It’s the guilt in her eyes.
For years I ignored the guilt I saw because I was too fucked up to care. I wanted her to feel pain like I did so I caused her pain. It wasn’t right, but it’s what I did to her, to us, to everyone.
“Looks like you’ve been busy since I’ve been gone,” I say, smirking, because it’s easier to make her feel bad than to admit my heart is breaking into a million pieces at the idea she hooked up with my cousin. “How’s Jude?”
My mind screams, How could you do that?
But then again, how could I have done any of the fucked-up shit I’ve done in the last few years? Waves of jealousy and despair hit me, and I stare at the ground. My cousin. My fucking cousin? I can’t accept it and nearly shake my head, hands itching to pull her in, keep her, always.
She hates it, remembers the smirk. “Yeah, well, a lots changed since you left,” she replies, brows pulling together again and swallows heavily.
“You seem happy.” I hate the way my voice betrays me and wavers.
“I am.”
“I’m incredibly happy for you then.”
Her blue eyes blaze. She knows I’m baiting her. “Don’t do that.”
I take a slight pause. “Don’t do what?” I swallow, eyes unblinking.
“Don’t do this now.” She breathes in soft breaths like the secret keeper she is, and I’m left trying to figure out the meaning.
I’m scared that when I open my mouth, my heart will scream out and no longer be silent. “You came up to me.”
“I wanted to explain.”
My mind spins. I try to keep the pieces of myself together but they crumble to the ground before her. Tension burrows deep in my bones. My skin pricks, the things I said to her over the years surfacing, leaking life and blood into the deepest parts of my mind. It’s like a brain injury, pooling inside my skull until the pressure’s too much and somethings gotta give.
My hands are shaking so badly I shove them in the pockets of my jeans so she won’t notice. I think I’m drowning, heartache swallowing me whole. “I’m not stopping you from doing that.”
Before she can, Mom comes back out holding the baby. Sophie frowns and takes the baby from her when he’s screaming, his arms up in the air as he squirms around. It’s easy to see right then Sophie is the baby’s mother, if I didn’t know that already.
“Is everything okay?” she asks, looking to my mom.
Mom hands the baby to Sophie and then hands me a beer, as if she thinks I need it. I do and take it willingly. “I think he’s hungry.”
“Okay.” Sophie nods, reaching for him. “I’ll try feeding him.”
In passing, the baby’s eyes land on mine and reaches for me, his hand grasping my shirt, his crazy blond hair sticking up at odd angles as if it was once in a Mohawk.
Sophie stops, her body closer to mine and there’s a moment where I can feel her eyes on mine. I want her voice but not her words. I want her warmth but not her touch.
My eyes shift to the child’s, my lashes lifting.
My smile cracks the corners of my lips at the kid when he stops crying and smiles at me. I might be pissed but a baby smiles at you and it kind of breaks your tough ass. “Does he have a name?” I ask when he tears his hand from my shirt and around my index finger on my right hand.
“His name is Lyric,” Nova says, running past us and into the house, her little friend trailing right behind her. “Hey, Uncle!”
Sophie’s eyes snap to mine. There’s something in her eyes, something that makes my heart stop.
I can barely get the words out, my voice thick. “How old is he?”
“Eight months.” She waits for me to do the math in my head.
She pauses.
I pause.
Mom coughs, attempting to clear her throat, but I stare blankly at Sophie.
Sophie’s expression’s unmasked and she takes a breath, shaking her head, an exhale from deep within. “He’s yours.”
My chest heaves with her words. It’s one blink at a time. Anger, betrayal… mostly anger, it’s all there, present and heavy. The kind that turns sounds to acid and thoughts to flames, like coating red blood cells black. I take a deep breath, pushing the weight against my ribs, the words a bitter pill I can’t forcibly swallow.
He’s yours.
He’s mine?
What?
My legs shake and my knees nearly buckle. I’m breathing too loudly, too fast and I have to tell myself to calm down, focus on what’s before me. I don’t realize I’m shaking my head until I feel dizzy from doing so.
“What?” I ask and even my voice, words, everything about this is unfamiliar and out of my control. My vision goes hazy and I inhale through my nose and press my lips tightly shut. Something inside me breaks along with my control. My lids fall shut, my nostrils flaring. The beer in my hand hits the side of the house crashing to the ground. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Sophie reacts, jumps at the sound of my voice, as does the baby who then starts crying at the noise, or maybe me. I’m not sure, but there’s commotion around me.
Red stands between us, shading me in a shadow, his hands on my chest, cold eyes constantly assuming and judging me. “Knock it off.”
I don’t say a word to him and push him back away from me, and he glares, catching himself, eyes locking in a battle he’ll never understand. He’s the last person I want to see because he’s just another fucking reminder that I’m not good enough for any of them. Even him. Especially him.
I can’t believe this bullshit. I can’t fucking believe it. I shake my head, wanting to laugh and scream and cry at the same time. But I do neither. Instead, my pulse races, frozen in place, my back pressed to the side of the house where Red has me cornered, my view of Sophie cut off.
“Okay, that’s enough.” Mom pushes me back against the fence, out of everyone’s view like she used to when I was a fucking child and wo
uld throw fits. We’d stand here until I calmed down, which usually took hours but she was the only person who could ever get through to me and this stubbornness that consumes me when I’m upset.
With a shaking breath, I kiss my mom’s forehead as I try to pass but she holds on, always trying with her mother-strong hold.
My eyes shut and once they’re closed, I don’t want to open them because I know the look I’m going to get.
“Rawley, don’t,” she whispers. “Don’t do this today. Please don’t run away. I know you’re upset and we can talk later, but don’t run away. Not again.”
With unsteady hands, I remove her fingers from my shirt and walk away.
It’s what I’m good at.
The scream of Rawley’s bike redlining down the road draws my attention to the gate. It confirms what I already knew, Rawley left.
It’s not unexpected. He said it himself it’s what he does, but like a fool, I hoped in the last year and a half he would have grown up some.
Standing in the backyard, I stare at the gate he charged through. You never know when your life is going to change. Sometimes it hits you when you least expect it and knocks the breath straight from your lungs, chest heaving and heart pounding as you try to rationalize your thoughts and make sense of what just happened.
That’s me.
“Well, that didn’t go well, did it?” Tyler says from behind me, shaking his head.
The breeze rustles my hair, strands swishing around my face. I turn around just in time to see Raven throw her elbow into his midsection “Shut up!”
There’s a pause in the air where we all stare at one another, an awkward moment of held breaths and wide eyes.
Tyler glances to me and I notice a flicker of apology in his eyes. Poor guy looks incredibly uncomfortable, and I can see he’s looking for a plan of escape.
“Yeah, well I’m gonna go and refill my beer.”
Red snorts under his breath. “Dude, you’re not drinking beer. You’re drinking water.”
He clears hit throat. “Then I’m going to refill my water, asshole.” Tyler walks into the house and as I watch him, tears sting my eyes.
