by Gia Riley
Fucking Dean.
“I CAN’T LEAVE UNTIL I see Dean.” I need confirmation with my own two eyes that this is really the end for him. Maybe it’s stupid to want to see him on his death bed, but if I ever want to put him in my past, I need to close out this chapter of my life—without running away.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go home and rest?” Dad asks hopefully. “The doctor doesn’t want you overdoing it.”
I shrug my shoulders dismissively. “I’m not in a hurry to get home.” There’s nothing urgent waiting for me at the apartment except the possibility of Blaine finding me again. I’ve tried to forget about him, but with his whereabouts a complete and total mystery, I can’t.
His next move is up to him. His hatred can fuel him to retaliate, or his newfound freedom can push him to escape this town altogether. As much as I want Blaine to be found, I almost hope he’s gone for good because I never want to come face to face with him another day in my life.
“Sophie, he won’t be there. You’re safe in your apartment.”
“You don’t know that any more than I do, Kipton.”
“Please, baby. Can we go home and talk about this?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you,” he sighs in relief.
“After I see Dean,” I add stubbornly. I’m not trying to be a brat, but they would rather keep me in a bubble than let me decide what’s best.
“You are a stubborn woman. I think Cara’s rubbing off on you.”
I was sure Kipton was going to argue with me some more about my decision, but he surprises me when he doesn’t try to persuade me otherwise. He simply releases the brake on my wheelchair and pushes me into the hallway. “You have everything, right?”
“Yeah. I’m ready.” I’m not even down the hallway a foot and already my fingertips start to tingle from the grip I have on the chair. The realization that Dean is two floors below me lying in a hospital bed starts to freak me out the closer we get to the elevators. While I get to roll out of the hospital whenever I’m ready, his hours are numbered. He may never see another sunrise in the morning, or end his day with a tranquil sunset. The thought is both sobering and scary. I’ve never known life any other way—he’s always been a fixture even when we were apart.
“Is my driving that bad?” Kipton asks as he presses the down arrow next to the elevator. “Your knuckles are white.”
“No, you’re a good driver.” I release my grip on the chair, but I’m so nervous I can’t look at him. I can only stare straight ahead at my reflection in the steel door. I was in such a hurry to see Dean, I never put any make-up on my face to cover the bruises. They’re so much uglier than I thought they were. Under the sterile white lights of the hospital, I look ten times worse than I did in my tiny bathroom.
“Are you sure you still want to do this?”
I nod my head that I do. “Closure, Kipton. I need it.”
My dad and Kipton stare at me, worried expressions on both their faces. The last thing I want is for them to worry about me, but for once, I have to be selfish.
Kipton kneels down in front of me, blocking me from rolling forward despite the opening elevator door. “If you have to do this, I want you to remember one thing. Nothing he says matters anymore. I won’t let him hurt you again,” He says with conviction. There’s no doubt in my mind he would barrel into Dean’s room to set him straight if he needed to.
“I love you both, but before either of you lose it, this isn’t something I decided today. I’ve put a lot of thought into it since I found out. This is what I have to do.”
I wait for dad to throw his opinion into the mix, but his eyes shine with both concern and understanding. He gets it. “I had a chance to speak my peace with him last night, so I won’t try to talk you out of it. I think he needs this as much as you do.”
Kipton shakes his head in disgust. “Since when did we start giving a damn about what Dean needs?”
“Keep your voice down,” I beg. “People are staring at us.” He gazes to the others waiting for an elevator. They may not be listening to a word we’re saying, but I feel like their eyes are boring a hole in the back of my head.
Kipton’s voice is much softer when he says, “I’m sorry. I hear what you’re both saying, but I’m having trouble forgetting about the hell he put Sophie through.”
“We’re not asking you to forget anything, Kipton,” Dad adds. “Your anger is valid.”
“I won’t be long.” I turn to Kipton. “If you want to wait for me at the apartment, I won’t be upset. Your sister and Drew are there.” He stares back at me like I just told him I’m jumping off the roof instead.
“I’m not leaving you. I’ll wait until you’re done.”
“Thank you.” With my two biggest supporters by my side, dad pushes my wheelchair inside the elevator, while Kipton walks next to me, holding my hand. I would do this alone if I needed to, but I’m relieved it hasn’t come to that.
“Hit number three,” Dad tells Kipton. He pushes the button for the third floor, and before I have a chance to gather my thoughts, the doors open.
As I’m wheeled toward the oncology unit, my pulse races and my mouth is dry enough that it becomes hard to swallow. This is about good-bye. Nothing more. Nothing less. But is there even a proper way to say good-bye to someone you’ve spent your entire life hating? I don’t think so, yet I search for one anyway.
My chair comes to a stop outside of room 311. Dad stays silent, staring at the numbers on the wall lost in his own battle of wills. I could use one of his encouraging pep talks, but Kipton picks up on my self-doubt right away. He gets down on one knee next to me so we’re on the same level. “You can do this, beautiful, but nobody would ever blame you if you changed your mind.”
It’s now or never. I swallow my fear and push away the doubt. “I’m ready.” Standing from my wheelchair, it’s empowering to be back on my own two feet again. Inch by painful inch, I move forward over the threshold of Dean’s room. The door automatically shuts behind me, and I’m thankful for the privacy. I couldn’t do this with an audience.
My eyes scan the room as a strong antiseptic odor assaults my senses. The room smells like it’s been freshly cleaned from top to bottom with bleach. It’s a scary reminder of how short the stays are in this unit. Someone else may have said their own good-bye’s to a friend or family member in the very same spot I’m standing. Dean isn’t guaranteed tomorrow let alone five minutes from now.
Once I reach his bedside, my breath hitches. He’s lost so much weight. His cheek bones are sunken making him look years older than he is. Most of his hair has fallen out with only a few stray hairs poking out of his scalp—the result of his chemotherapy.
An IV sticks out from his emaciated hand, no doubt pumping pain medication into his veins as his body slowly rebels against him. Oxygen runs through the tubes attached to his nose, and if I didn’t know it was Dean lying in this bed, I would never make the connection. This isn’t the same monster that I hid from and despised my entire life. This is only a shell of the man I once knew.
Tears prick my eyes as my confidence to speak vanishes the longer I stand next to his bed. Anything I have to say seems pointless. He’s living in hell on Earth, and that’s more of a punishment than my words could ever be.
Just as my first tear falls, his eyes open like they were responding to my emotion. “Sophie,” he whispers. “You came.” His gasp of air between words frightens me.
“I’m here.” This is so much worse than I thought. Dad was right—this is definitely the end of Dean’s life. I don’t want him to see me cry for him, but I can’t hide my tears. I’m human, and for the first time in my life Dean is too. The man who has always acted like he’s invincible, has met his match. And cancer is kicking his ass.
“Don’t cry for me, Sophie. I don’t deserve your tears,” He chokes out.
“No, you don’t,” I mumble around a sob.
He wets his lips before continuing. “You were never a mis
take—I am. I’ve made so many.”
“Why did you hate me so much?” I most likely already know why, but I ask him anyway because I’ve wanted to know as long as I’ve been alive. Flesh and blood or not, why was I so hard to love?
“I pushed you away to hide my pain. Then I would drown it in whiskey.
“You didn’t have to. Mom loved you.”
“It doesn’t much matter now, does it?”
“No. I guess it doesn’t. But it’s never too late to tell someone how you feel.” I sniffle, grabbing a tissue off the bedside table to wipe my nose. “I’ve learned that the hard way.”
Dean coughs into a handkerchief. His shoulders hunch as his eyes squeeze shut tightly. When he pulls the cloth away from his mouth, there’s blood mixed with saliva left behind, staining the fabric. It’s like seeing an accident alongside the road. I know I shouldn’t stare, but I can’t take my eyes off it.
His voice is hoarse and scratchy when he says, “Don’t worry. I’ll pay for my sins in hell—and there are a lot of them.” He looks toward the window, and I can’t even imagine the thoughts running through his head. Having that much regret is a terrible way to die.
“Pray for forgiveness before it’s too late.”
Dean chuckles at my suggestion. “I’m not a holy man, Sophie. God would probably laugh in my face.”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
“You’re wise beyond your years.”
“I had to grow up fast.”
“Because I was a shit parent.” I can’t argue with that, and I’m not about to try to convince him otherwise. “Once I’m gone, Sophie, don’t hold my mistakes against your mother. She loves you more than anything. She always has.”
I nod my head, but I’m not totally convinced. “She loves you, Dean. In the end, she chose you.”
“I didn’t give her much of a choice, did I?”
“Maybe not, but it doesn’t change what she did.”
“I never expect you to forgive me, but forgive your mother. She needs you.”
“I’ll try.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m not doing it for you, Dean. I’m doing it because I love and miss her. I want my mom back.”
Dean reaches his hand up and lays it on top of mine. I clutch the rail tighter as cold skin and bone wraps around my warm skin. “I always admired your strength, Sophie. You once told me I taught you the kind of person not to be. I ended up drinking until I blacked out that night. It was the first time I didn’t want to wake up.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel like shit?” I question as I stare at our hands.
“No. It’s my shitty way of telling you I screwed up. I’m sorry.”
I don’t know what to do with his admission, so I pull my hand away from his, and decide it’s time to leave. I could go off on him for all the things he’s done wrong. For all the anger he’s given me. But it wouldn’t do an ounce of good.
This chapter of my life is officially over.
“I have to go.” Slowly, I turn around, at peace with what I’ve said despite what I’ve heard. I need to leave this room in control of my emotions and my past.
I’m only two steps away from his bed when he has another confession to share with me. “I told Blaine to go to hell when he came to the house looking for you. I’m sorry he found you.”
His words are the exact opposite of the ones Blaine told me. Since I can’t trust either of them, I try my best to ignore it. I would hope Dean didn’t intentionally put me in danger, but I can never be one hundred percent sure, so I take it for what it’s worth—very little.
I push open the door and Kipton jumps to his feet when he sees me. Ushering me into the hallway, he sits me back down in the chair. I’m exhausted.
I reach my arms out for him, burying my face in the fabric of his shirt. He holds onto me, rubbing my back in comfort. “You are the bravest girl I’ve ever known. Let it out.”
And I do. Every ounce of anger, sadness, hate, disappointment, and fear tumble out of my body like a waterfall. As I break down, Kipton takes me out of the wheelchair, and sits on the floor with me in his lap. I clutch onto him tighter like he’s my lifeline. “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you,” Kipton whispers.
The three of us sit in the middle of the hallway, crying for a man we hate yet can’t seem to walk away from. We’ll always carry a piece of him with us, the bad parts forever outweighing the good. Someday, I’ll be able to let it all go, but not today. Today, I grieve. I grieve for all that could have been, and all that never was.
“CAN WE GO HOME NOW?” After twenty minutes spent on the floor of the oncology wing, Kipton helps me back to my feet. With one last glance at Dean’s door, I know it’s over. I can’t forgive, and I won’t forget, but I can move on. At least I hope I can.
He nods his head before reaching for my hand. “Let’s go.”
Just as the elevator doors open to take us to the lobby, Mom steps out. She’s so lost in thought she doesn’t even notice us standing two feet away. Her face is void of emotion yet it’s clear she’s in pain. I look to Dad for guidance, but he’s just as torn as I am. There’s no doubt his heart wants to be with her, so I help him with his decision. “Go with her. She needs someone right now.”
“No,” he says adamantly, as his eyes continue following her down the hallway. “I can come back after I take you home. You’re always my number one, beauty.”
“I know I am, but you’re all she has now.”
“She has you,” he reminds me.
In theory she does, but in reality, we have a lot of talking to do before I can have any kind of second chance with her. “Maybe someday, but not right now. I’ll face her when the time is right.”
My dad nods his head before leaning down to kiss my cheek. “I’m so proud of you, Sophie. It took a lot of courage to do what you did today.”
I smile and it’s the first genuine one I’ve had in days. Hearing he’s proud of me will never get old. “I’ll see you later.”
“Go home and rest. Kipton, don’t let her overdo it. She’s a control freak like her dad.”
Smiling, Kipton doesn’t argue. “I won’t, Coach.” He bumps fists with my dad like they’re two high school kids parting ways.
Laughter doesn’t seem appropriate given the last hour, yet it’s strangely refreshing as it happens. “Are you two bros done now,” I ask Kipton while Dad makes his slow journey back to Dean’s room.
“Your dad’s a cool guy. I wasn’t sure about him at first, but now I really like him.”
“Because you’re overprotective of me.”
“Eh. Call it what you want,” he says with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “You’re mine to take care of, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make this up to you.”
I let out a frustrated sigh. “Kipton, we’ve talked about this. Nothing would have stopped Blaine.”
“If I was where I was supposed to be, you wouldn’t have been alone at Shooter’s.”
He’s right, but it doesn’t change the fact that it did happen. “Please, let it go, okay? It makes me feel like shit when you take all the blame.”
“I still want to kill that motherfucker, but I’ll try.”
“That makes two of us.” I stick out my fist like he did with Dad. He smashes his into mine only I blow it up at the end by opening my palm and stretching my hand into the air. “Boom.”
“You’re nuts, beautiful. It’s time to take you home.”
Kipton and I leave the hospital with our spirits brighter despite the circumstances. I’m nervous to go back home, but the apartment is the first place of my own. It’s mine, and I won’t let Blaine or anyone else push me out.
I ease into the car, and buckle my belt. Getting out is going to be a lot harder than getting in. But I might not have to worry about that until tomorrow at the rate we’re going. “Why are you going so slow? I know for a fact this car goes a lot faster than this.” Kipton glances at me out of the corner of his
eye. I appreciate him avoiding the speed bumps in the lot, but if he goes any slower we’ll be stopped.
“Are you in a hurry?”
“No, but you can go faster than this.”
He picks up speed, but only by a couple miles. “I wasn’t sure when to tell you this, without scaring you, but there will be a patrol car at your place for a little while. Hopefully until they arrest Blaine.”
“Okay.” Actually I’m more than okay with that. The extra set of eyes offers some relief. However, it doesn’t change the fact that he knows where to find me. All the eyes in the world can’t predict what he’s up to, and that makes me sad.
There was a time I went to Blaine for comfort. The nights I needed an escape from Dean, he always came to me like he knew I was struggling. He heard the fighting and even witnessed a drunken Dean stumbling across the front lawn with one of his two dollar hookers, but he never once judged me for it. He only comforted me in every sense of the word.
Little by little, the comforting hugs progressed into more intimate touches. I craved the rush of kissing him and needed the reassurance that came from satisfying him. I wasn’t worthless when I was with Blaine. Little did I know, he was using my weaknesses against me. My innocence coupled with my desperation was all it took for him to lure me in, and single me out as his prey. I didn’t have a fighting chance.
I believed every word that came out of his mouth because I was finally feeling something other than hate. All of that disappeared the night I met his dark side when his jealousy was unbearable and his patience nonexistent.
I leave my window cracked like I do every night, so Blaine can come inside. But he hasn’t come yet, and he’s never late. The rain continues to pound against the pavement as I watch the water collect in a pool near the sewer drain. A loud crash of thunder has me backing away from my bedroom window when I’m certain he forgot about me.
I’m about to give up on seeing Blaine, when a shadow creeps out the front door of his house. I watch as he darts across the lawn, latching onto the trellis attached to the side of the house. Relief consumes me.
