Losing Her

by Mariah Dietz

  “Hi, sweetheart. Is Zeus with you?” she asks, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me so I have to bend at the waist to hug her.

  “No, he’s at the house,” I reply, warring with myself on what emotion to feel right now.

  “You’re mad at me.” Her tone is full of understanding as she pulls away from me and carefully studies my face.

  My hand travels over my hair a few times as I let out a deep breath. “Why in the hell didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I wanted you to have the opportunity to make a decision about your father without having to take me into account.” She looks at me for a moment and then nods her head toward the dining room.

  She takes a seat and slides a plate of brownies to me. The brownies confirm that she’s feeling guilty. My mom hates baking.

  “I knew that this was going to be really hard on you, and you’ve had so much happen this year, I didn’t want you to have to consider my feelings about this. I was hoping that if your father came and spoke to you, you wouldn’t be thinking of the past and the bad times. I wanted you to be able to see who he is now, and make a decision based upon your needs.”

  I pick up a brownie and take a bite. I don’t know how to reply and need a few moments to mull it over.

  “I hope you know I would never be upset with you for wanting to have a relationship with him, but I won’t be disappointed with you or judge you if you decide that you don’t want to either. It’s completely your choice.”

  “How could you think I wouldn’t consider you, or the shit he put us through?”

  “I don’t. There’s no way for you to not have that as a part of your consideration, but I don’t want that to be your only factor. You spent so much time and energy looking for him, Max, and now you have a chance to ask him whatever questions you’d been searching for.”

  “How can you be okay with him being back here?”

  My mom’s eyes fill with a wave of questions and hesitancy. “Max, if you didn’t want to find him, why were you looking for him?”

  “I stopped looking.”

  “Because you couldn’t find him or because you realized the answers don’t matter?”

  “I don’t want him around. He’s just going to fuck things up again. Love fucks everything up.”

  Her lips press together and her eyes dance across the table. “Max, of all the things you learned this year, I’m pretty certain you learned love is not a bad thing.”

  “Are you kidding? Forget about her. Do you remember what dad did? All of the fights, the drinking, the gambling, the nights that he never came home and the ones that he did, beat up, and reeking of booze, cigarettes, and cheap shits? He made you weak, Mom. Love makes people weak!”

  “Loving someone doesn’t make you weak, Max. Ace didn’t make you weak.” Her head tilts and she reaches across the table, folding a hand over mine. My mom’s hands have always felt like she spends her time in a refrigerator or out on a fishing boat in Alaska. They’re always cold, and the temperature difference brings a myriad of memories of her comforting me over the years and breaks the aggression that was ready to pull me under. “Loving someone makes you stronger.” My hand pulls away from hers, sliding into my lap as my attention moves to the patio door and my head shakes. “Max, if I didn’t have you boys when your dad left, I’d probably still be in that old bedroom, wearing his shirt and crying. Loving you and your brothers gave me the strength to move forward, to see the good in the world again.

  “I’d always known your father and I had a dysfunctional relationship. He couldn’t say no to anything; moderation was never something he was good at. If he did something, he was all in.” Her hand wraps around my other hand still resting on the table, and her fingers press gently into my flesh until I look up and meet her blue eyes that are wide, swimming with emotion. “Max, you aren’t anything like your father was, you have drive, but you know your limitations. He never did. Loving someone is the bravest thing a person can do, sweetheart. You’re putting yourself out there for someone to potentially reject you.”

  I scoff and repeat the word reject as I pull away from her touch once again and rub my hand over my face.

  “She never rejected you, Max. I know it feels like she did, but I think we both know if your heart really thought she’d rejected you, you wouldn’t have such a hard time getting her out of your mind, or your heart. It took me two months of crying and living in a dark place to realize that I was better off without your father. I know it seemed longer to you, but the months following that, I was mad at myself for allowing things to have gone on as long as they had. It’s been eight months since she left, and you’re still working to convince yourself.”

  Before I can object she continues. “My biggest fear and regret was not getting out of the marriage sooner. I never wanted you boys to think that what your father and I had was a healthy relationship. That’s why I was so afraid of Molly when Billy introduced me to her. They’re both hot and cold people, and when that happens the hots are really great and high, and the colds are like arctic winds. You have to be able to have some middle ground, otherwise you’ll be burnt and have frostbite, and never be able to find comfort.” Her eyes remain on me though she doesn’t make another attempt to reach out and touch me. I think she knows I can’t handle affection right now while hearing her words and processing the stirring thoughts of her.

  “I hope they find it, I do. And who knows, maybe they will. Neither of them seems willing to give up, and that’s a good sign. It’s your life, Max, and I will support you and whatever decision you make. I love you, and I believe in you. However, I hope that the fear of becoming weak or losing someone is not what fuels your decision, because if you go back to only dating people you know you can’t ever love, I’m going to make Billy teach me how to punch, and then I’ll try resorting to a form of communication you’ve always seemed to understand a little more clearly.”

  She punches her fist into her hand with her thumb tucked, ensuring me she has no idea what she’s doing. I can’t help but laugh as I shake my head and reach for another brownie.

  “What’s this?” I know by where Erin’s stroking my finger that she’s finally asking about my tattoo. I’m guessing she’s seen it before. Although it’s fairly small, we’ve spent enough time together I don’t know how she could’ve missed it.

  “It’s nothing,” I reply, rolling over and getting out of bed.

  “It’s just a question, Max.”

  “And I gave you an answer.” I pull on a pair of gym shorts littering my floor and head toward the door. “I need something to drink. You want anything?”

  She shakes her head, looking slightly defeated. Then a sly smile creeps across her lips. “I can think of a few things I need when you get back, though.” Her eyes fall to my shorts, and I swallow back the smart-assed remarks that flood my mind. I turn, and close the door behind me without another word. Kendall and Jameson are sitting at the island in the kitchen, quietly talking. Their conversation ceases as I enter, giving me a pretty good clue that they’re either discussing me or her.

  “Hey, are you hungry? We went to Antonio’s.” Kendall gestures to a box at the end of the counter.

  The word no forms on my tongue as I nod my head. I can’t go back upstairs right now. I think if I have to see her, touch her, or hear her, I’ll lose what’s left of my mind.

  “What’d you guys do tonight?”

  “I just got off work like an hour ago,” Jameson replies.

  I glance at the microwave to see it’s after ten and then back to him.

  He stretches his upper body across the counter. “This being an adult thing sucks ass.”

  “No kidding, maybe I should go back to school and get a new major. I’m done with working,” Kendall adds. “Granted, I really don’t miss tests, or droning professors, or my thesis.”

  “Yeah but at least you didn’t have to work weekends,” Jameson rebuts.

  “No, but there were a lot of weekends we spent
studying.” Kendall sounds nostalgic as her blue eyes look across the room at nothing.

  “I still find the occasional Anatomy flashcard in the most random places,” I admit.

  Kendall looks taken aback at me mentioning something that has to do with her, but Jameson starts laughing.

  “I found one under the bag of flour in the pantry last week.”

  “What were you making that you used flour?” Kendall’s eyes narrow with disbelief.

  “Nothing. I’d spilled cereal all over the damn place. That shit should be called messy charms.” She dips her head back and laughs, as do I, at Jameson’s expression.

  “What card was it?” Kendall asks as her laughs die down.

  “Something I couldn’t pronounce.”

  “Not the Maximus?” She begins laughing at her own joke as Jameson grins. I feel the stretch across my own face and don’t try to stop it or conceal it.

  I open the pizza box and survey the contents. Ace always ordered the same thing: barbecue sauce with chicken, pineapple, and jalapenos. This pizza is covered in cheese, meats, and vegetables, but something about the spice or perhaps the fact that we just mentioned her, brings more memories to the forefront of my mind, and I’m so exhausted with fighting them back, I don’t even attempt to as I sit back and feel her run through me like an old familiar tune. I can hear her, see her, and feel her.

  For spring break my brothers plan a trip to visit me. I don’t know if this is another thing our mom’s orchestrated, or possibly Hank since Billy’s still refusing to see our dad. Though Hank has now met with him on three separate occasions.

  “Hey what happened to Westminster Dumbass? Mom said he was like living here,” Hank says, looking around the empty living room. Neither of them have been here before, which seems strange to me. Then again, it’s really only been a couple of years now that we’ve begun transitioning from beating the shit out of each other to whatever it is that we’ve become.

  I don’t know how my mom would’ve known about Wes, but it’s true. This fall and for most of the winter he had practically turned our living room into a hotel room. I should have asked if everything was okay, if his roommate Xavier was causing problems. Xavier had played baseball with Wes for years, but the dude could be a world-class asshole and is the messiest person I know. I didn’t though. I’ve been too consumed with all of my own issues this year. I still haven’t seen him since he threw the porn movies at me and told me he’d at one time felt something for Ace and then left.

  My fingers run over my hair as I look to Billy, who has always loved dishing shit out about Wes, even when Wes isn’t around to hear it. Billy’s eyes skirt around the living room, oblivious to our current conversation. I look to Hank who gives me a tight smile and then clears his throat. “Is Dad around?”

  “No, he’s gone for the week,” I assure them. This had been a prerequisite from Billy in order to come. Though I’m curious to know his feelings on it, I don’t ask. I could probably ask Hank and he’d tell me, but aside from our brief conversation at Thanksgiving, Billy and I still have need-to-know, sports, and did-Mom-tell-you kind of conversations. This seems like skipping too far, too fast.

  Billy’s body visibly relaxes and then constricts again when the door opens. He turns to watch as Landon walks in with Zeus.

  “Hey, how was your guys’ trip over?” Landon asks, releasing Zeus from his leash. He walks over to where we’re still standing in front of the furniture, none of us relaxed enough to sit yet.

  “Thankfully short. We were on a plane filled with a college basketball team. Damn, were they loud.”

  “Have you been to your house before?” Billy asks, lifting an eyebrow over his green eyes.

  Hank laughs, likely realizing the irony when his four sons can make a concert seem quiet. “How are you, Landon?” Hank asks.

  It’s strange for me to watch my brothers interact with either Jameson or Landon. I’m so close to the both of them that it seems like my brothers should know them as extensively as I do, but they’re still practically strangers and it’s apparent as they remain cordial and discuss crap that doesn’t matter, like the weather.

  “You want to help me out tonight, show off your skills with the barbecue?” Landon’s eyes sweep to me like I’ve just announced news worthy of a shocked reaction, and it makes me feel a little more shitty. Other than the comment after the porn videos, Landon’s been here through all of this, not wavering or yelling at me for my crappy moods. He hasn’t said anything about Erin. He’d even been the one that gathered up the movies and tossed them in the trash.

  “I, uh … um, I figured I’d clear out tonight, let you guys have space, but yeah, I’ll hang out and grill.”

  I clasp a hand to his shoulder and squeeze my fingers, hoping he senses my appreciation.

  “Is this your new brofriend? What happened to Wes?” Billy teases, escaping the cordialness.

  He really hadn’t been paying attention, and it’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him where in the hell he’d been, but I know where he’s been. I’ve been there for the last few weeks too.

  Landon turns stoic. It’s an art that I’m pretty sure war perfected for him. My eyes turn from him to Billy, and his eyes narrow.

  “What in the hell’d you do?” Billy accuses.

  “Noth—”

  “Don’t nothing me, you lying bastard. Wes finally got tired of you acting like a dildo, huh?”

  “Dude, shut up.” Hank punches him in the arm, but his voice lacks all conviction. He’s right, I have been a dick.

  Kendall and Jameson arrive home from work separately, both looking a bit rattled, but seem to relax as the evening wears on and alcohol begins to be distributed along with stories.

  They begin one of my brothers and me from when we were kids and raided our dad’s liquor and stole shots of his bourbon. We all got sick off of it and then got grounded for a month.

  More memories are shared, and as the night wears on, laughing becomes a little easier for the first time in over nine months.

  Two weeks later my dad approaches me. He’s just returned from a weekend visit to Arizona, where he was granted the opportunity to meet Hank and Sarah’s four boys.

  “Why don’t we all go get a drink tonight? Bolts are playing. No discussions, just drinking and football.” He studies me for a long moment, and for a second I see Hank.

  “I don’t want to hear about Arizona.”

  He nods a couple of times, seemingly understanding that Arizona encompasses pretty much everything.

  Jameson, Landon, my dad, and I fill Landon’s rig and we head to a sports bar at the far end of town.

  We take a seat at one of the only available tables, and are immediately greeted by a waitress that makes it clear she’s not here to flirt as she acknowledges each of our orders with a nod before disappearing. Most of the TVs are already turned to the pre-game where the announcers are discussing other teams in the conference, which has both Landon and Jameson intrigued since neither of them have converted to Bolts’ fans.

  Jameson starts defending the Seahawks a little too loudly, attracting some attention from a nearby table, filled with die-hard Bolts’ fans. They turn to tell Jameson to shut up and eye the four of us. Resituating in their seats, they quietly huff to each other and I feel the corner of my mouth curl in a smile before I lift my glass of whiskey to wash it away.

  “If you get us in a fight over a team that’s not even playing tonight, you’re picking up the tab,” Landon says, taking a long pull from his beer.

  We sit together with a strained feeling hanging between us as Landon and Jameson try to make small talk that incorporates both my dad, who participates too easily, and me. I occasionally add a short response but keep my attention on the TVs.

  “Shit, isn’t that the dude from that party we went to last summer?”

  I slowly turn to look over my shoulder at the noises I’ve been struggling to ignore for a while now, knowing that if I turn my attention and see fighti
ng with all of the tension I have in me, I’ll be over there, beating the hell out of some nameless face in an attempt to soothe the living beast of anger and aggression that I seem to constantly battle.

  My eyes focus on Pedro’s face. His eyes are slits of rage, and his mouth is pursed, showing how tightly clenched his jaw is. I notice the strain in his arms that are filled with blood and adrenaline, ready for a fight. He’s struggling against someone that’s on the losing end of the battle, and I can’t tell if Pedro knows him or not. He seems nearly oblivious of the poor bastard. My eyes scan the rest of the scene, taking in a few guys that I recognize, and more that I don’t, until I get to Nathan Hudson. The sole focus of Pedro’s hatred seems to fall to him, struggling against two guys that we’d gone to school with.

  “Shit!” I hear Landon growl and see the back of him and Jameson as they lunge toward the brawl. Nathan Hudson jumps Pedro, a matching expression of loathing across his face.

  “You waitin’ for an invitation?”

  I look over to see my dad looking at me with a brow raised over the glass of iced tea he holds to his lips. He gave the entire table a brief explanation after placing his order that he doesn’t drink anymore, something I didn’t know, but strangely feel relieved about.

  “I don’t—” my objection falls flat as I see a punch land on Jameson’s face, catching him off guard. He falls with a heavy thud.

  “Shit,” I mutter, pushing away from the table. I don’t hesitate slamming my fist into his assailant’s face without warning and am rewarded with hearing the satisfying thwack that my knuckles make against his flesh.

  “What the fuck?” someone yells in objection.

  I don’t stop. My fist connects with several more faces and ribcages that I don’t even take the time to look at before things begin to slow down. Pedro takes the distraction that I’ve caused and throws himself toward Nathan that was at some point separated from him. I grab him by the shoulders and hold him back as Nathan mutters about how Pedro has lost his mind and doesn’t know what the fuck happened.