by K. B. Nelson
I flip my hand to examine the underside of the ring. Whereas most rings are solid on the bottom, this unique ring is cut with the infinity symbol. It’s the ring I’ve always wanted, but never had the audacity to speak my wishes out loud.
He looks up to me, waiting for the expectant and promissory kiss. When he readies himself to stand, I can wait no longer and drop on top of him, knocking him to the floor as I press my lips against his.
His arms engulf my back, pulling me deeper into him until all that’s left in this world are our mouths exploring each other. I used to believe I was defined by the people I knew and socialized with. Now, I’m content to live the rest of my life on an island just big enough for two of us, far away from the cruel hand of society’s rules.
Needing to catch my breath, I roll off him and onto my back.
“This past week has been the second worst week of my life,” he says while his chest heaves. I know the first would be the death of his young family, and the third is when the actions of those closest to me ruined his career. If this is the second worst week of his life, then there’s nowhere to go, but up.
I roll onto my side and caress my hand upon his chest, and when his heart thumps against my palm, I come to understand so fully and significantly that he saved me in every way someone could ever save another.
29
Brick
Sunshine lies. High in the sky, it bemoans a story with a happy ending as the rays glisten upon my tanned skin. It burns deep into my flesh, penetrating through my skin. If a twister is caused by the collision of warm and cool air, then it’s due time I declare a warning.
My heart is cold, but my body is burning hot. Sweat drips down my face, and molds my ice-blue tank top to my chiseled chest. I drag my feet down the sidewalk, reaching my destination at the speed of a decaying zombie.
There’s no motivation to press on, and if I never reach her house, I’ll be content to die here on this sidewalk. I had called her office only to find out she wasn’t there, so now my only chance at salvation is to knock on her door and beg for her to save me.
The hurt in Tyra’s eyes stay with me, and I wonder how long it’ll be before she’s moved on and forgotten about me—relegating our short relationship into long-forgotten memories. I wish I were gifted with hindsight from the future, so I could know with certainty I made the right decision to force her from my life.
I peer up to the large white home—648 Carpenter Way. With a southern design, it evokes a warm welcome. I ready myself physically and emotionally before stepping onto the porch and knocking against the cherry door.
Collins swings the door open, with a noticeable frown. “What the hell are you doing at my house?”
The entirety of my body trembles as I push past her, and into the private sanctity of her own home.
“You can’t be here.” She turns and gestures with her hand, hinting I should leave.
“I need someone to talk to.”
“You can’t keep storming into places.” She slams the door. “You can’t come into my office, and especially my home, whenever the hell you feel like it.”
“Please, Miss Collins,” I beg. “I don’t have anyone else to talk to.”
“I’m not the one, Brick.” Her words are biting. “Trust me.”
“You’ve helped me. I’m a batter person because of you.”
She paces to the mantle above her fireplace and swipes a cell phone into her palm.
“You need to get out of here before I do something stupid,” she warns gravely, but it’s not enough of a deterrent to push me out the door.
“What the hell are you going to do?” I ask as she marches past me and raises the phone to her ear. I grab onto her arm. “Are you calling the cops?”
“You want to know the truth?” She shakes me off and tosses the phone onto the couch. “You’re incapable of being helped. Your soul is too far gone. You come to me with a faux display of tears, and you expect me to fall for your shit.”
There’s a clear contrast between the doctor when she’s in her office and when she’s in her own home. I shuffle through vivid memories in my mind. “You said—“
“I know what I said before. I was wrong.” She hooks a finger and signals for me to follow her.
“I ruined everything with Tyra.” I follow her into the small formal living room to the left. “I had to. She doesn’t deserve to be anchored to someone like me.” I take a seat on an off-white leather couch. “It hurts. Everything fucking hurts. I can’t live like this, with all these voices inside my head.”
“Can you give me a minute?”
“For what?”
“Stay seated and I’ll be with you in a moment.”
She exits the small room, and disappears into another room. Through thick silence, all I hear is the ticking of a clock.
Tick.
Tock.
The wheels of time slowing to a crawl while I sit here and think about who I’ve become.
30
Apple
The tape screeches across the top of a packed box. A quick cut later, and the box is sealed and ready to be sent to its destination. Where to? I’m not sure yet. Anywhere but here. I drop the tape and scissors onto the box and collapse onto the couch.
Moving is the absolute worst. It’s a process I’ve never been fond of, which is why I stayed in this house for the final three years of my undergraduate education. It’s full of character, but with the money I was making from web camming, I could have afforded something a little more luxurious.
But I’m changing, and now character interests me far more than luxury. Jensen pushes through the front door and tosses a newspaper into one of many trash bags scattered across the living room.
“Can I see that, actually?”
“You don’t want to.”
“Eve?”
He nods and steps into the kitchen.
Curiosity killed the cat, and now it’s about to kill me. I crawl from the couch and snag the newspaper from the bag. As suspected, Eve’s memorial graces the front page:
Community Turns Out For Student’s Memorial.
Underneath the caption is a picture of grieving students packed into a crowd. In the foreground Jensen has his arm wrapped around a middle-aged woman, comforting her. When he returns from the kitchen, I look to him.
“Who is this woman?”
He tears the paper away from me, and the look in his eyes says more than words ever could. They’re heavy, and increasingly hollow. “Eve’s mother.”
“No, that can’t be right.”
“I dated the woman,” he says through an easy laugh. “I should know.”
Everything happened so fast at the memorial, with Brick chasing me through the cemetery, I had forgotten Jensen was even there. Then…
“Oh my God!” I jump from the floor and steal my phone from the coffee table.
“What’s wrong?”
I pull the phone to my ear in one hand, and collect a pile of hair in the other. “Pick up the fucking phone, Brick.”
“What’s going on?” Jensen questions again, with a growing sense of tension and concern.
“Please don’t leave a message,” Brick’s voice filters through the phone, but I’m not fooled by his voice. It’s his voicemail, and when he doesn’t answer, I shift into panic mode.
“Apple,” Jensen screams. “What the hell is going on?”
“That woman is Brick’s therapist.”
31
Brick
Tick. Tock. Tick Tock.
Slower and slower, each second ticks by with stolen promises. Further and further, I’m pulled away from Tyra, but the pain doesn’t ease with time or distance. The things I said to her were inexcusable and unforgivable.
A shadow falls over me, and when I look up, I’m face to face with the barrel of a handgun.
“You came into the wrong home,” Collins growls from above. Her hand shakes, from nerves or from anger, I’m not sure. “You killed my little girl.”
Eve’s mother.
It’s a surreal feeling to know your life is about to come to an abrupt end. They say your life flashes before your eyes right before you die, but I don’t see anything. In a few moments, I’ll be erased from this world. Gone, as if I never existed in the first place. A sense of peace will befall all the victims of my past.
“I knew from the second I laid eyes on you. I knew from the moment you came into my office. When you finally broke down into tears, I felt a sweltering sense of relief. To know you were suffering helped to ease the pain.”
“I can’t take it back,” I say deadpan, with not a care left in the world.
“Damn right.” She takes a measured step toward me, and the gun jumps closer to my face. “It’s too late for redemption.”
“Are you going to kill me?” I ask softly, even though the answer should be apparent. Once you put a gun in someone’s face, you better be prepared to pull the trigger.
“It’s what you deserve, isn’t it?”
“Yeah…”
“I pride myself on being rational. I’ve waited so long to get revenge for what you did. I told Eve she had to move on. I preached to her that she couldn’t live in the past. I knew if she went after you herself, it would destroy her. If I would’ve known she’d kill herself—”
“You couldn’t know that.” I rise to my feet, being careful to not move too fast.
“Shut up,” she snaps. “Shut the hell up.”
“What are you waiting for?” I stretch my arms to the side. I’m an easy target, and I’m letting her know it.
“The same thing I’ve been waiting for.” Her finger dances along the trigger. She’s the spitting image of a psychopath wielding a gun, but I know better. She’s not crazy. She’s suffering in a way I can only imagine. “The perfect opportunity. I couldn’t kill you in my office or in the middle of the street. It’d be too suspicious, though I’m sure I could win favor with a jury when I’d tell them everything you and your girlfriend did to my daughter.” She shrugs. “But why take the risk? Now, you’ve given the perfect motive.”
“Revenge? I get that.”
“Self-defense.” She smiles, but even as her lips curve upward, they’re painted with impossible-to-miss trails of sorrow. “You came into my home with a gun. You were going to kill me, but I wrestled the gun from you and did what I had to, to protect myself.”
“Do it.”
“Are you ready now?”
“I feel nothing. So, if you’re going to pull the trigger, then pull it.” I reach to cradle my hand around the gun, and help her guide it to my head. I’m fucked up enough to want to assist her, to help alleviate the guilt she’ll eventually feel after the deed is done.
“Stop!” Apple screams as she charges through the front door.
“Oh,” Collins laughs—she’s just hit the jackpot. “The two of you are making this too easy.”
“Get out of here, Apple,” I scream.
“No.” She inches forward. “I’m not leaving here without you.”
“For once in your damn life, do the smart thing,” I say to her.
“No,” Collins adds, and takes a few steps back. She swings to aim the gun at Apple.
“She’s not the one you want.” I can’t let Apple pay for my sins. If I never lied to her about Eve and the quarterback, none of this would have ever happened. “This all falls on my shoulders.”
“Shut up,” Collins screams, directing her anger at me, but continuing to frame her aim toward Apple.
Jensen darts into view, and freezes in place once he’s able to get a good look at the scene. A ghost falls over him, bleaching the skin of his face into a hunted, pale color.
“Jensen?” Collin questions. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I can’t let you do this.”
“I have to.” She nods her head, and a tear rolls down her cheek. “They took my baby away from me.”
“And they’ve paid the price. I promise you that.”
“Regret and remorse is nothing.” She shifts her eyes to me, and I know with the animosity swirling in her hazel orbs, that I’m her main target. “They deserve to die.”
I’m now relegated to being a spectator in a war of words. They go in one ear and out the other. At this point, I’m waiting for a click and then, it’ll all be over with.
“You have the power to end this cycle of hurt.” Jensen shifts forward with two gentle steps, just enough so he can throw his body in front of Apple’s. “You didn’t start it, but you can end it.”
“Why are you siding with them?” She shakes the gun. She shakes her head. Her entire body shakes.
“They’re monsters, right?” Jensen says. He’s right. “I get it. I’ve seen firsthand what they’re capable of, but what about you and I?” Bravery takes hold of him as he begins a slow pace toward her. Then again, he knows she won’t shoot him. “I’ve done things, and you’re about to do something far worse. Eve wouldn’t want this.”
“How do you know what she’d want?”
“Because she told me the night before she died,” he says and looks back to Apple. “I began dating Apple because I was out for my own revenge for what she did to your daughter. We planned it months ago. I was going to break her heart and ruin her. I was going to show her the world and then turn it upside down.” Apple’s spirit drops, and it looks as if she’s about to sink through the wooden panels of the floor.
“Things happened,” he continues, “and she ended up breaking my heart first because I had fallen for her. Eve couldn’t understand it, and for months, begged me to follow though on the original plan. She wanted me to come back to this place, and I couldn’t because I couldn’t face her. I couldn’t stand to see the pain on her face.” Jensen pauses, and there’s complete silence again. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. “She killed herself because I couldn’t follow through. You see, love is all kinds of fucked up. It never makes any sense, but I see the good in Apple every day, and someday you can too, but you have to put the gun down.”
“And what about me?” Venom seethes from between her teeth. “Did you ever love me?”
“I loved every minute I spent with you.” He throws his hand up to her, trying to separate his face from the end of the gun. “Don’t do this to yourself.”
“And you’re with her, now?” Her finger taps against the trigger. She’s ready to take the shot, and I can’t allow Jensen—of all people—to take the bullet for what Apple and I did. “It makes me sick.”
I reach forward and grab the gun. In a non-threatening way, I guide her hand downward until the gun is pointed at the floor. She could have fought me more, but she didn’t. She’s hurting. We’re all hurting. Every single one of us in the room are both victims and victimizers. Some of our actions were reactionary, and others weren’t. But there’s a silent understanding between us all that no one’s vocalized.
Her feet give out from under her, and I catch her as we both collapse to the floor. She falters into an extreme state of sobs, where each guttural cry is lodged between hard gasps for air.
“Don’t touch me,” she screams in an agonizing cry. “Get away from me.”
This only forces me to hug her tighter. There’s nothing in the world I could do or say to fix what’s broken, or to bring back what’s lost.
“I’ll spend the rest of my life fighting for her memory,” I whisper to Collins. “I’m a work in progress, but know from the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry.”
“I’m going to call the police,” I hear Jensen groan from behind me.
“No,” Apple adds and drops to the floor beside Collins and I. “No police.”
Tears well down Apple’s cheeks as she caresses Collin’s back with her palm. Her eyes are drawn tight, and blood red. We’re all bleeding from our souls, one step away from total destruction.
And somehow, we were all saved.
32
Apple
It’s been a while since I’ve welcomed Brick into my residence
without apathy. Whenever he used to stop by, I knew he was scheming. Sometimes, I wanted to hide and pretend to not be home. Sometimes, I welcomed him because I was more than ready to embark on the start of a new game. Sometimes, he was there waiting for me when I walked in the door.
Things have changed, as they often do in life. Without warning, our lives can change on the dime. It’s the ultimate blind side, the kind you never see coming. Back in the spring, when I set my sights on Jensen Moon, I never could have imagined I’d be sharing a dining table with Brick and Jensen—at the same damn time.
I couldn’t have imagined back then I would ever feel at peace with the world, and with myself. To trust your instincts is one thing, to know when they’re wrong is another.
The three of us sit at a small square dining table off to the side of Jensen’s kitchen. Our kitchen now. After the series of traumatic events that culminated with a loaded gun pointed in all of our faces, a switch within me was hit. I could no longer bear to run from my demons, because then I’d only be delaying the inevitable.
Miss. Collins could have killed us that day, but she didn’t. We could have called the police and had her taken into custody, but we didn’t. Everything could have been different if it weren’t for compassion and understanding, even in the face of who we perceived to be our enemies.
Together with Eve’s mother, we’ve jumpstarted an organization targeting campus bullying. In many ways, I feel like a fraud when I stand in front of a crowd, giving a spiel about my bad reputation and all the terrible things I have done. But I know we’re doing something good, not content with shoveling all our shit in the proverbial closet and throwing away the key.
Jensen says I’m a good person. He’s still not so sure about Brick, but I’m not willing to accept his accolades. There’s still too much work to be done, but I’m getting to a place where I can look into a mirror and not want to shatter it into a million tiny pieces—each shard representing someone I’ve destroyed along the way on my path to enlightenment.
