“Is it for someone special?” she asks.
“Yes,” I explain.
She helps me pick one out and I pay for it quickly before heading out of the shop again. Heading west, I walk down the street; the heavy rain has changed to a light sprinkle. After walking a few more blocks, I reach the wrought iron gates, slowly pushing them open. The place is quiet, it makes me nervous. I walk down the familiar path, the bouquet tight in my hands. I take in my surroundings, a few colorful umbrellas off in the distance. They are so vibrant against all the dark stones. After a few minutes I find it, my visit is clearly not the only recent one. Kneeling down, I place the small bouquet of roses up against the stone, making sure to not cover her name.
Sophia Harris. Always loving. Always loved.
The wet grass seeps into my already drenched pants and I just look down at the ground. I don’t know what to say. But yet, I want to say everything. I want to tell her about Phoenix. I want to tell her I royally fucked up the only good thing that has come into my life. I want to tell her about the unexplained pull I have to this human being, a pull not even I can explain. Reaching down I wrap my fingers around the grass blades, pulling them out one by one, slowly making a small pile in front of me. I finally decide to speak.
“Hi,” I say softly. I pause, almost as though she is going to respond. Or anyone for that fact.
“Sorry I haven’t come by lately…but I see that dad has been here,” I say as I look down at the dozen white roses propped up against the headstone.
They were always her favorite. My dad gave them to her every year on their anniversary. White roses stand for heaven, purity and innocence. It wasn’t a surprise when my father adopted the nickname “Seraph” for her. He always believed in the afterlife and that she would be taken care of in heaven. He refused to think that taking one’s own life was considered a sin. I silently begged to differ. I clear my throat, it echoes between the trees.
“What do I do?” I ask.
Of course there is no answer. I replay the scene in my head again, the red on her arm, the fire that burned inside of me, the hopelessness I felt returning. What was I to do? How could I ever explain to her who that woman was? Would telling her the truth only further bury me in the bed of quicksand I fear that I am in?
I smile. Remembering our walk prior to the incident, and how she had told me that she felt the same for me. I knew that it was hesitant, but she had the courage to tell me, to meet me halfway. And that was music to my ears.
While I was lost in thought, I felt a bright light hit my eyes, making me squint a little. Looking up and beyond the trees I could see that the dark clouds had separated, rays of sunshine beaming through the leaves and branches. The warmth was welcome. Leaning up, I soak it in, keeping my eyes closed in the process. Thanks Mom. I know exactly what I have to do. I have to tell her that girl means nothing to me and that she is what I want.
Chapter 21
Phoenix
Calm. Relaxed. Fire. Retrained.
My eye lids are so heavy that I can’t seem to keep them open and, to be honest, I don’t know if I really want to. Opening them would take me back to reality. Moving my arms and legs slowly, I realize that I can’t go far. I can feel the soft cloth against my skin. Bits and pieces of hours earlier flash before me. My heart begins to race. I can’t exactly remember everything that had happened or how I came to be in these restraints, but I do remember what got me here.
I swallow the growing lump in my throat as I deny my body the tears it so desperately wants to produce. My mind is still in a blur, but Donovan and Rain’s faces appear, my mind slowly remembering everything else. A large wave of guilt overcomes me. Donovan was the one who stopped me. My mind and the fear mistook him for Carl.
I remain trapped in my thoughts, wanting nothing more than to get out of there. I can feel the fence around my heart that I had let down for a split second harden up, the base of it now set in concrete. Moments later, I hear the door being pushed open and my heart rate increases. I try to lift my head up to glance at who it is, but it feels as though it weighs a million pounds.
“Phoenix,” I hear, not able to place the voice because of my drowsiness. I can feel the figure coming closer to me, the mixture of rage and nervousness washing over me.
“How are you feeling?” I hear before anything comes into view.
I have the incredible sense of déjà vu, remembering the first time I met this figure back in the emergency room. My heart can’t seem to return to its natural pace.
“OK,” I squeak out. I pause. “A little bit drowsy.”
“That would be a side effect of the shot of Ativan we gave you earlier,” he responds.
“How long have I been here?” I ask.
He looks down at the watch on his arm. “About an hour and a half,” he states.
I remain lying still as Dr. Harris asks me more questions, only giving him brief answers.
“When can I leave?” I ask abruptly. He takes his attention off my arm, looking at me.
“Well, once I am done with this exam, you may head back to your room,” he states.
“No, I mean here,” I say, shifting my eyes all around the room. He gets a concerned look on his face.
“Phoenix,” he starts before pausing. “I think it will be better if you stayed a while longer.” I don’t respond.
“This…” he says, pointing to my arm, “is not helping. I cannot sign off on your release until I have complete confidence that you are no longer a threat to yourself, or anyone else for that matter.”
I just stare at him, wanting to argue but I can’t. We both fall silent and Dr. Harris continues to write in what I can only assume is my chart. I find myself curious about what could possibly be written in there. A spike of nervousness flows through me before I speak again.
“You know I…” I start. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself.”
Neil gives me a small smile, his mood darkening.
“I know,” he says softly. “You just wanted the pain to stop.” I feel as though he took the words right out of my mouth.
“Yeah,” was all that I could respond with. He finishes up his work quietly, his demeanor still sad.
“I will let Donovan know to come undo your restraints,” he states. “I am also going to put you on a dose of anxiety medication.”
“OK,” is all I say. Dr. Harris starts to walk away from me, but pauses and turns around to face me again.
“I know that I have no right, it’s not any of my business, and… it’s completely inappropriate. I shouldn’t be supporting any of this… but I’m gonna say it anyway. You need to be surrounded by good people right now, Phoenix. People who can help you pick up the pieces and heal from the things…” He cuts himself off. “You have someone who cares for you. Give him a chance. I haven’t seen him happier than when he talks about you. You may need each other more than you think.”
Without another word he leaves the room, the door swinging behind him. I lay my head back again, my mind more confused than it already was. What the hell am I going to do? Just as soon as Dr. Harris leaves, the door swings open again and Donovan’s massive figure approaches me. I squirm a little bit.
“How you doing in here?” he asks, a large smile on his face.
“Peachy,” I say sarcastically. He just laughs. He reaches his arms out slightly, stopping before he actually makes contact.
“I’m going to remove your restraints, OK?”
I nod in response. He works quickly, releasing each restraint slowly. When he finishes, he backs up slowly and stands there. I have to apologize.
“Donovan,” I say softly.
“Mmmm?”
“I just wanted to apologize,” I state.
“For what?”
“For, you know, earlier….” He waves his hand.
“Hate to say it, Phoenix, but you’re not the first, nor will you be the last.” I look down as I fidget with my fingers.
“Doesn’t mean I’m not em
barrassed, you have been nothing but nice to me.” He gives me a smile. “All of you have.”
Donovan crosses his arms and stares at me.
“So, you wanna tell me what’s up,” he states.
My heart races. I shake my head. “No, not yet.”
“Well, whatever he did, I will gladly kick his ass for you.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Thanks, but that won’t be necessary.”
We both drop the subject.
“You ready to go back to your room?” he asks. I nod.
“OK, do you think you can walk?” he asks me.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I’m still pretty groggy…”
“OK,” he says. “I guess I’ll have to carry you.”
He slowly places his hands underneath me and I feel my body being lifted in the air. When we make it to my room, he places me on top my bed, my eyelids becoming heavy again. Just before sleep completely overtakes me, I can only think of one thing. His beautiful green eyes looking back at me.
Chapter 22
Braeden
I lay in my bed; the sound of rain pelting the window is growing more irritating. I guess the weather is matching my mood at the moment. It’s late afternoon and I am still in my damp clothes from earlier. I have no desire to get up and change. When I got back from the cemetery, I turned off my cell phone, not wanting to be bothered by anyone. But I know it’s only a matter of time before someone shows up to check up on me. My bet is Donovan.
As I continue to lie there, I know I’ll never fall asleep. Restlessness is a notion I’ve become familiar with since Phoenix came into my life. I reach my arm down to the bedside floor, my finger extending out to find the string. When I feel it, I hook it around my fingertip and pull up. The box is already half empty, which angers me slightly. Popping one into my mouth, it doesn’t achieve the same calming effect it normally has. Closing my eyes anyway, I continue to eat the cookies, remembering back to a happier time.
~
“It’s OK, sweetie, you tried your best,” she said as she stroked the back of my head. The tears continued to stream down my face.
“But I let my team down,” I said sniffling.
I had just single handedly made our baseball team lose the championship by striking out. She looked down at me, her brown eyes sympathetic.
“What have I always told you?” she asked, her hand now on her hip.
“Go in there and do the best you can. That’s all you can do,” I muttered.
“And did you do that?” she asked me. I nodded.
“There is always next time, sweetie,” she said.
We both walked to the car, her arm wrapped around me still. Most boys would be mortified by such public displays of affection by their mother, but I didn’t care. She was my best friend. My father barely made it to any of my games because he was always so busy with work, so she was my cheering section. When we made it home, I was still pretty bummed, knowing that I would probably get teased at school on Monday. I went upstairs and changed and came back down to put my dirty uniform into the washer. My mother taught us a lot of household skills that most other men still can’t do to this day. She always wanted us to be self-sufficient.
When I came into the kitchen, the room was quiet. The house was quiet. I walked into the living room where the sound of muffled crying reached my ears. I walked towards the sound, my heart starting to race. Then the sight of them came into view. My dad was facing my mother, his arms on both her shoulders, tears running down his face. I ran to the side of the wall, hoping that he hadn’t caught me yet. I stood there, continuing to stare at them, my mother’s profile facing me. She was not crying, her face in a frozen state. My father shook her slightly and I could tell from his lips that he is repeating her name over and over. I put my hand on the table, leaning in, hoping to listen better. My gut told me not to, but a bigger part of me needed to understand what’s happening. But as I leaned in closer my body hit a picture frame, the glass smashing to the floor with a loud crash. My father looked up, his hands dropping from my mother’s shoulders as he backs away. Something in my mother snapped back, her eyes on me. My father walked away and she came back in through the patio door.
“I’m so sorry you had to see that, sweetie,” she said, rubbing the top of my head.
“What was happening?” I asked, still confused.
“Maybe I’ll tell you someday,” she said. I furrowed my brow.
“Are you hungry? I’m sure you are after that big game you played!” she said, her smile now back on her face as though nothing had happened. I just nod.
“Then why don’t you take a seat,” she said as she rooted around in the cupboard.
I do as I’m told, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table. Moments later, I noticed she has two small boxes in her hand. She set one down in front of me. “Now, I have a challenge for you,” she said. “I want you to write down every animal that is in this box, which one is your favorite and why.”
I smiled, the challenge of it excited me. Over the next hour my mother and I talked and ate our crackers. My favorite is the elephant and hers was the bear. It’s then that I realized all the worry I had previously had been eliminated.
~
It was that night that my dad convinced my mother to admit herself. Digging into the box again, I realize it’s empty, tossing it back onto the floor. Moments later, I hear voices, recognizing only Bret, the other female voices unknown. Grunting, I pull the comforter over my head, wishing that I could just disappear.
~
I fling the blanket off my body in a panic and sit up straight. The room is pitch black and I glance over at the clock. 11:07 p.m. I don’t know exactly how much I slept, but a small part of me feels refreshed but my brain only takes seconds to remind me what had happened. The anger and grief comes back to me quickly, knowing I will never truly run away from it.
I don’t go back to the hospital for another twelve hours, but I know I will be useless until I can talk to her. To tell her what she mistakenly saw. That is if she will believe me. Pulling the covers off, I walk slowly through the dark room, grabbing my phone to illuminate it. I open the door slowly, remembering the voices I heard earlier. Not wanting to talk to anyone, I decide to not search them out. Opening the bathroom door I peer in, happy to see that no one is currently occupying it. Turning on the shower, I close the curtain while waiting for it to warm up. Looking up in the mirror, I barely notice the person looking back at me. It’s even worse than the last time. My face is beyond scruff and I can’t actually remember the last time I shaved or took a shower.
Pulling off my once-damp, now crusty, scrubs I pull open the shower curtain again and step inside. The warmth calms me and relieves the tension in my back a little. After a few minutes, I start to shave, smoothing the cream all over my face. Once I finish, I set the shaver down and pick up my body wash. I start to wash myself, my hand grazing over my nether region, a surge of tension emanating through my body. Grabbing my body wash again, I squeeze a hefty amount out onto my hand, placing my hand back, it instantly hardens. Wrapping my fingers around it, I pump up and down, feeling fucking incredible. My breathing becomes hitched and I lean my other arm on the wall to rest my head against. I continue to pump and as soon as I close my eyes, all I can see is her. As much as I try not to, I just can’t keep the vision at bay.
Picturing everything about her makes me jerk harder. Her eyes. Her lips. Her smile. The way she laughs. I shake my head, knowing this isn’t where she should be. I continue to stroke, the body wash now frothy, making the stroking easier. I can feel it, the intense knot in my lower abdomen. I am close. After a few more strokes the pressure is released and I come, the sticky substance mixes with the body wash and falls to the shower floor. Stepping back into the spray of the water, I finish washing myself off before I turn off the shower and grab my towel. Its only when I finish drying off that I realize how much I needed it. Wrapping my towel around my waist, I finish getting ready and realize
that lying around here might not be the best thing for me. Grabbing my phone I quickly send out a message. Pulling open the bathroom door I exit, only getting a few steps outside before my body slams into something. Before me is standing a petite redhead, her body wrapped in nothing but a sheet. She leans into me closer.
“Well, if I had known that you were in there taking a shower I would have come in sooner,” she says, her words slurring a little bit.
I don’t respond, not really wanting to give her the satisfaction of a reply. Instead, I hold on tighter to my towel and squeeze myself out. When I get to my bedroom door, I close it and lock it behind me. I dress in a pair of skinny jeans, a dark grey, hooded sweatshirt and grab a pair of mis-matched socks, along with my well-worn lace up boots. In the middle of lacing them, I hear my phone chime. I open it while laughing a little, respond and then slide it into my pocket.
Walking over to my window, I peer out onto the street. It’s still pouring out so I grab my black beanie before unlocking the door and heading out into the living room. I take a quick scan of the room, glad to see that Bret has taken his party to his own bedroom. Leaving the apartment, I pull my beanie on over my head. It’s only a few blocks to the bar but I decide to take a cab, not wanting to walk around in wet clothes again. Within a few minutes I arrive and toss some cash at the driver. When I exit, I spot him outside immediately. I walk up to him, not knowing who is going to speak first.
“I’m surprised you don’t have a cast on your arm,” he states. “You punched that wall pretty hard.” I give him a sideways smile.
“It does kind of hurt,” I say, stretching my fingers outward.
“Is it not manly to say that I was worried about you when you took off?”
I laugh. “A little.”
“Well, whatever,” he shrugs. “Let’s go get a drink.”
We walk inside, glad that it’s not the other bar we frequent, realizing I can never go back there. Donovan and I each grab a seat at the bar and order our respective drinks. I decide on something a little harder than beer, hoping to drown out my own thoughts. Taking a sip of it, the vodka burns as it travels down my throat, but I like it. The pain matches the pain that is currently flowing through my body. I wish that I could just talk to her. To tell her everything that she needs to hear. But I know that if I show up there while I’m not on shift everyone will know and I don’t think she is ready for that. Taking another sip, I can feel my nerves easing up and my tense shoulders relaxing a little.
A Brand New Ending Page 11
