by Liz Durano
I don’t say anything, not because I can’t tell if she’s sincere or not. I’m just too numb and wracked with guilt for breaking two promises, the one I made to Drew and the new one I made to Sawyer.
As Sawyer looks at me, anger behind his deep blue eyes, I want to fade and disappear.
To hell with secrets. I’m damned either way.
18
Sawyer
It takes all my self-control not to return to the cemetery, dig Drew up and beat the shit out of him for doing what he did to Alma. I’d tried calling him days after after he mistook my concern for her as something else. But he never picked up nor responded to my text messages. Instead, he told Kevin I made a move on his wife—and maybe I did when I overstepped my responsibilities as his best friend to feel concern for Alma.
But was it really just concern? Didn’t I allow my deepest feelings for her surface that day and she recognized it?
Worse, I’d allowed my guilt that he was right to justify his rage instead of acknowledging that it was just another symptom of his PTSD. I should have known better. I’d been there.
As Alma talked about her abuse at the hands of my best friend, I ran the days when I last dropped by their house against the timeline inside my head. He choked her a month after I stopped by. She left and a month later he was dead.
And where the fuck was I? Why couldn’t I have called it what it was when I stopped by that day, that he was suffering from his flashbacks? I can’t get the picture of Alma with her bruised neck out of my mind.
What if he succeeded? What if he hadn’t woken up?
For her sake, I keep it together for the rest of the day until we get to the airport, get on the plane, and back to Taos. The custody battle is over. It’s done. Frank and Doreen will fly to Taos to see their grandson and everything will be alright. I smile when I have to and talk when I need to. I pretend everything is fine even though nothing will ever go back to normal after this.
“Are you disgusted with me for leaving Drew when he needed me the most?” Alma asks as we drive from Santa Fe to Taos.
I grip the steering wheel, my anger flaring but I will myself to calm down. “Of course not, Al. Why would I be upset with you?”
“You’ve barely said two words to me since we left LA.”
“I’m just tired, that’s all. We’d had a lot going on back there,” I reply, reaching for her hand. I had texted Dax to let him know we were on our way home although he already knew because Alma had texted Harlow while we were waiting for our flight at LAX.
“Thanks for coming with me, Sawyer. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem.” I squeeze her hand again, my eyes on the road ahead. It’s starting to get dark and while the scenic route heading to Taos is scenic, it can also be windy. “Al, can I ask you a question? I just need to make sure.”
“Sure.”
“The day you called me and I hung up on you, that’s when it happened, right? When Drew choked you?”
She bites her lip. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry, Al.”
“What’s done is done, Sawyer. You didn’t know,” she says but it doesn’t matter.
My mouth turns dry, my jaws clench. My fingers grip the wheel. But I remind myself to keep my eyes on the road and get us home. I’ll worry about the guilt later. Like the demons from my past, it always knows where to find me.
When we get to the Pearl to pick up Tyler, I don’t stay long inside. While Harlow and Alma disappear inside the nursery to talk about Tyler and how he did while we were gone, I stay outside by the truck. At least, the sky is clear tonight and the stars are out. It makes for such a breathtaking sight.
“Hey, my man,” Dax says, shutting the door behind him. “What are you doing out here by your lonesome? Everything alright?”
“Just giving the women time to catch up,” I reply. “I don’t want to rush them.”
Dax leans against the truck next to me and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I thought everything went well back in LA. Her in-laws dropped the custody lawsuit, right?”
“Yeah, they did.”
“Then how come you look miserable?”
I look away, not wanting to meet Dax’s eyes. “Let’s just say I’m tired. It wasn’t exactly a walk in the park but it worked out. They dropped the case and everyone gets to live happily ever after.”
He taps his fingers on the side of the truck absently. “Do they really?”
“Some of them even get lucky enough to live out here, from what I heard.”
The front door suddenly opens and Alma emerges with Tyler in her arms, Harlow next to her carrying Alma’s overnight bag over her shoulder. The twins burst out the door behind Harlow, shrieking excitedly in their pajamas like they just made the great escape from the nursery. Suddenly it’s mayhem as Dax corals DJ and Ani-Pea in his arms and I secure Tyler in his car seat while Harlow and Alma say goodbye.
Suddenly, I’m smiling again, lost in a moment that doesn’t belong to me. I wouldn’t trade it for the world only because I’ve become a selfish son of a bitch. But it doesn’t change the fact that it’s not mine. It should have been Drew’s. He should be the one kissing Tyler on the forehead while buckling him in his car seat, the one shooting the breeze with someone like Dax. He should be the man making love to his wife, the only woman he’s ever loved.
It should never have been me.
I go straight to work on an earthship being built in the neighborhood the next day. It’s one of the things we do after years of working together. With so many people curious about sustainable building and living off the grid, learning by doing is the only way to truly understand the basic principles—living it, breathing it, building it. It’s also the only thing I can do to stop myself from raging over something I can’t do anything about.
Too bad it’s not helping.
As I ram soil into one of the tires that help make up the walls of someone’s future earthship, all I can think of is how badly I messed up.
Fuck PTSD.
Bam!
Fuck those damn flashbacks that drag you back kicking and screaming to the past and leave you there with no return ticket.
Bam!
I knew Drew’s PTSD had gotten bad, but to try to kill his wife? And where the fuck was I, the so-called best friend?
Sweat drips from my face as I continue ramming the soil into the tire with the mallet. When someone asks me if I need a break, I tell them no. I’m used to manual labor. I’m used to working myself ragged until I have to drag myself into the shower and then to bed, hoping to sleep a dreamless sleep. It’s what I did to get the demons out of my system so many years ago. It’s one of the things that helped me get better. At least, I have an earthship to show for it.
Why didn’t you tell me it was that bad, Drew? Why couldn’t you have called me?
Instead I had to see the damn pictures of Alma with bruises around her neck and chest that told me more than I wanted to know. If I had a permanent marker, I could have connected the dots and come up with Drew’s handprints around her neck, every tip of his finger marked with a darker bruise. He could have killed her.
I get that he had flashbacks. I get that he had PTSD. I get that he had demons that came for him when he closed his eyes at night. I just don’t get why he never told me even after I asked him if everything was okay. Why didn’t I catch the signs or worse, why did I let him slide with each excuse for not talking to me whenever I called to check up on him?
I’ve never felt so helpless as I listened to Alma talk about the hospital report like she was the one who did something wrong. But maybe that’s what happens when one keeps a secret for so long. You believe it. And for what? So his parents could continue seeing Drew as the son who returned home a war hero? So I’d keep looking up to him as the man who saved my life?
But all that doesn’t change the fact that none of this would have happened if I’d done what I could to protect Alma. Instead, I ran. When Drew accused me of making a move on
his wife in that hallway, suddenly my concern for her became stained with an accusation that actually had merit. I did like Alma. But never did I once step over the line. She was my best friend’s wife and that’s how I chose to see her while they were together. I’d have done the same things if she were someone else. I’d have changed the lightbulbs in the garage, clear the rain gutters and carry that Christmas tree inside the house. The only reason I returned a year after he died was because I had to say my goodbyes. I had to let go. But I didn’t.
And now I can’t.
With the tire at my feet completely filled with soil, I stop and catch my breath. One of the volunteers, a young woman who helped sift the soil for the bottle walls, hands me a glass of water and I thank her before guzzling it down. I remember she told me she’d come all the way from New Jersey to learn all she could about sustainable homes. She also told me other things but I can’t remember what they were. I can’t even remember her name.
I’m too busy seeing an alternative scenario inside my head. If I’d taken Alma’s call and found out what happened, I’d have left everything I was doing and talked Drew into going into inpatient therapy. I’d have stayed with him until he got admitted into a facility and gotten better. He and Alma would have worked things out and stayed together. He would have been there to welcome Tyler into the world, witness his first step, and hear the first time he’d say Da-da.
But I did none of that. I hung up the phone and went back to work. Instead of Drew witnessing all the milestones as Tyler’s father, I’m the one seeing it now. Hell, I’m the one who’s even fucking his wife.
I drop my mallet on the ground and step down from the wall of tires.
“Hey, Sawyer, your girlfriend’s here somewhere. She came by to drop off some food,” says some guy who looks like a misplaced California surfer with curly blond hair, but I don’t answer him. I barely hear what he just said or understand it. I’m too lost inside my head to know what’s going on.
Girlfriend? What girlfriend?
She’s my best friend’s widow.
She used to be his wife.
I walk past volunteers, past the people who’ve taught me everything I know about sustainable living off the grid. Friends, colleagues, strangers. I don’t care anymore. They can talk about me all they want about walking off like this, filthy and covered in dust and sweat. I don’t care.
“Sawyer!” I hear Alma’s voice but I keep walking, getting into my truck and gunning the engine. I back up, not caring that I’m kicking up gravel and dust in the air. I follow the unpaved road that leads to the rest of the earthship community. Where to? The fuck I know. I just need to get away from people for awhile. I need to get away from that version of myself who could have helped his best friend but didn’t.
Because if he did, he would never have had Alma for himself like he does now.
I head to one of my favorite spots by the Rio Grande Gorge to watch the New Mexican sky. Tonight, it’s a visual symphony of reds, yellows, oranges, even purples, all against the backdrop of sagebrush and the Taos mountains. Too bad, in my anger, I can barely appreciate it. I’m too wound up from all my thoughts at the job site.
I didn’t have to stalk off the way I did but I need to be alone for a change. I need to find my center, like Sage used to tell me. I need to feel grounded again. I need to take back control of my emotions that have been spiraling out of control ever since I saw the hospital pictures of Alma with visible bruises on her neck.
I feel my jaw clench. The mere thought of Drew choking her in her sleep has me gripping the wheel until my knuckles turn white. I take a few deep breaths, exhaling through my mouth.
Take it easy, Villier. Take it easy.
But how can I take it easy when I clearly failed Drew and Alma?
My phone buzzes with another text message from Todd but I ignore it. He’s worried like always and I can’t blame him. This isn’t the first time I’ve walked off the job site acting the way I did. To him it’s a mental break, a flashback gone bad. I bet he double-checked the gun cabinet to make sure all my guns are accounted for and they are. The last time I pulled a gun on someone was when Harlow’s asshole ex-husband walked into the Willow thinking it was the Pearl and I almost blew his head off.
That was over two years ago. I’ve actually calmed the fuck down since then. At least, everyone in town knows not to walk into the Villier home unannounced.
But this thing with Alma is new. The realization that the man I’d considered a hero had almost killed her is devastating. That I left her on her own to fend for herself all because I’d been so appalled at facing the truth of Drew’s words—that I’d always wanted Alma—is pure cowardice.
My phone buzzes again and this time I see Alma’s name. I reach for my phone but stop myself. I can’t keep fooling myself that I deserve her. I don’t. Alma deserves someone better. She always did.
19
Alma
It’s been two days since Sawyer walked past me at the job site and drove away. He didn’t even see me. The same man who said he loved me walked away from me even though I knew he heard me call his name.
I should be angry but I’m not. Instead I’m afraid. I saw the expression on Sawyer’s face, reminding me of Drew just before he’d fall into his dark moods, when he’d go deep into himself and I couldn’t reach him. But I never thought I’d see it again, certainly not with Sawyer. But after the custody hearing, I’m also not surprised.
Something changed in Sawyer when he learned the truth about Drew’s PTSD and how bad it had become. It happened the moment he saw the hospital pictures of me with visible bruises on my neck, when he learned he hung up on me the same day it happened. I can’t even imagine what he could be thinking. Is he blaming himself? Is Sawyer wondering that if he’d only spoken to Drew, maybe even flown in to be with his friend, Drew would still be alive today and we’d all be back to normal?
But Sawyer hasn’t answered any of my calls or texts so I don’t know what’s happening. At least, I know he’s alright. I know he didn’t harm himself like I feared at first. Harlow and Dax assured me that Todd was keeping a close eye on him. But Sawyer’s silence speaks volumes and it hurts. I never thought everything we’d worked together would fall apart like this, with him pulling away and pretending I didn’t exist. I thought he was better than that. I thought he’d conquered his own demons.
Still, I can’t sit and mope and cry my eyes out all day. I made the decision to move on and live life to the fullest when I chose to come out to Taos—not for Sawyer but for Tyler and me. It was all about a new life, a new beginning and I’m determined to follow through with or without Sawyer by my side. I’ve made friends and I’ve started to make a life for us here and I need to keep going. It can’t stop all because of one man. I’d let that happen with Drew when I allowed my life to go a standstill after he died, letting my grief and my guilt punish me without realizing Tyler was paying the price, too.
So I have to stop worrying about Sawyer. I’ve got things to do, errands, to run, and people to see. I’ve got groceries to buy. I park the SUV in front of the supermarket and carry Tyler inside, setting him in his fabric liner on the cart basket.
Even though I grow my own vegetables inside the Willow, I still need the basic necessities. It’s been a learning experience living off the grid but the pros outweigh the cons. Sure, I have to drive fifteen minutes into town to get the things I need but it’s taught me to be efficient with my time, to get everything I need once a week and run any errands in town at the same time. It’s given me more time to spend with Tyler at home, tend to my indoor garden, and share my knowledge about preschool learning to the world via social media. Even with Sawyer out of the picture, I wouldn’t trade this experience for the world.
“Alma?” Todd is standing by the next aisle, a canvas shopping bag filled with groceries in his hand. I can’t get over how he looks so different from his brother, blond and lean. But they have the same intense blue eyes, probably a dominant Villie
r trait.
“Hey, Todd, how are you?”
“Good. Glad to run into you here.” Todd comes over and smiles at Tyler who’s eating dry cereal I’ve set on a holder in front of him. “Hey, my man, nice seeing you again, bud.”
As Tyler laughs and calls him Da-da. I have a feeling he misses Sawyer, too.
“It’s great to see you, too, Todd. How are you?”
“Excellent,” he replies as I push my cart outside. “You? How are you doing, Alma?”
“Pretty busy.” I try to pretend I don’t want to know how Sawyer’s doing but that only lasts for five seconds. “How’s Sawyer?”
Todd doesn’t answer right away although his expression darkens as he helps me load my groceries into the SUV. As soon as we have everything in, he shuts the door and we walk toward the passenger side but I don’t put Tyler in his car seat just yet. He’s having too much fun eating his cereal and playing with the toys in the fabric-liner that sits between him and the cart basket. I’m also in no hurry.
“I don’t know what happened back in LA but Sawyer’s locked down tighter than I’ve ever seen him since I moved here four years ago,” Todd says. “He won’t tell me anything. He just plays his video games nonstop and when he’s not doing that, he’s moping. Even Dax can’t talk to him and we know better than to push him.”
“Why?”
“Not that he’s going to hurt himself, Al. It’s just… once he goes in too deep like that, he can stay there for days… weeks,” he says, pausing. “There used to be this girl who straightened his body out years ago in Sedona. Sage, that was her name. She worked on his body, his scars, changed the way he walked with that limp and got it all straightened out. I don’t know exactly what the hell she did but that’s what helped him get better. That and all the other stuff like yoga, chi-gong, and meditation.” He takes a deep breath and sighs. “But this one is different.”
