Twisted in You

by Fabiola Francisco

  “I feel it.”

  It’s that simple. No actions necessary; she feels it. Sometimes, I’m an idiot. I get stuck on gestures to show my feelings when she’s already receptive to them.

  She leans closer and kisses me gently. Her tongue shyly peeks out to touch my lips. When I feel her a second time, the tip of my tongue touches hers. It’s soft and intimate. This kiss is slow and exploring. It is so much more than a kiss.

  My hand tightens on her hip, hoping to God I control myself enough to not scare her. She shivers on top of me when my tongue dances with hers again. This time she’s a bit more aggressive in her kiss, and I taste more of her. I’ll never get enough, and I know when she’s ready, we’ll make love as if it’s the first time.

  I lace my other hand in her hair and hold her to me as I continue to kiss her. Mikayla’s hand grips my tee shirt on my chest. Our breathing becomes louder, and she pulls back slowly. A smile spreads slowly on her face.

  “I want to cover my scar.”

  “What?” I sit up and lean against the wall.

  “Part of it will probably still be visible, but I want to get a tattoo.” Her eyes are bright.

  “You do?”

  “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it since you got your last one.”

  “Okay . . . What do you want?”

  “A yin-yang. It will remind me on the days I feel lost that life is a balance. Without darkness, we cannot see the light. Everything has a complement. A little bit of darkness exists in the light and a little bit of light shines in the darkness. Yin-yang.” She says all this as if the tattoo should be self-explanatory.

  “I have one request.”

  “What?” She raises her eyebrows.

  “You only get one side of it. I get the other.”

  “Really?”

  “You’re my counterpart. And I know you said I was your yang, but I think you’re the light.”

  “Yin is the female counterpart. Yang the male. The male is fire, while the female is water. I didn’t decide which part was light and darkness, but I do know they each have a bit of the other in them.”

  “I get the side of yin. You get yang. Like that, I always have you with me.”

  Mikayla touches my new tattoo carefully. “You already do.”

  “Red. We get that one together.”

  “Okay.” She nods her head and gives me a crooked smile.

  I brush my lips against hers. “Now let’s get up. No way I’m sleeping tonight after that nap.”

  “I’m hungry,” she states.

  “Let’s make you some popcorn, Red. Maybe you can finish that painting, later.” I look at half of her creation. A woman with her hair blowing, covering her face.

  “That art fair in Chicago is going to fall in love with your portraits,” I tell her.

  “I hope so, but I care that it impacts someone, not the money I’ll make.”

  “It will.” I kiss her temple, and we walk to the front of the bus where the microwave and snacks are.

  I am impressed with how welcoming the guys have been with Mikayla. It has been two and a half months of togetherness, and that could either bring people closer or destroy any sense of relationship. The more time we spend on this bus, the more comfortable she is around them. I like seeing her more open with others besides me and Sam. It demonstrates she has worked through her past.

  We’re all sitting at the front of the bus hanging out when Joe’s phone rings. He answers it and looks at me seriously. Then, he looks at Mikayla. After a few words with the person, he thanks whomever he’s talking to and hangs up.

  “Tyler? Need to talk.” He walks back towards the bunks and faces me. “That was Tom. They got another phone call. All he said was, ‘Where is she?’ He was slurring his words. They tracked the number to a Nashville pay phone.”

  I bite down hard, squaring my jaw. “Kill him. I swear. I don’t care what we have to do. Someone find and kill that mother—”

  “Tyler.” I hear Mikayla’s voice behind me. I close my eyes and slowly turn around.

  “Red.” She shakes her head. She seems strong, but I see the gloss in her eyes.

  “Thank you, Joe,” she tells him. “For keeping us updated.”

  “We’ll try to find him,” he reassures her.

  “I know you will.”

  Joe walks back to where the rest of the guys are, leaving me alone with Mikayla.

  “Fuck, Red.”

  “I know. I would love nothing more than to see him dead, too, but then that means I haven’t moved on. That means he still has so much power over me that death is the only solution. Like when I almost killed myself. Only solution to escape him.”

  “He’s searching.”

  “He is. I don’t know what to do. I keep telling myself all these positive affirmations about how strong I am and how I love myself, so that I focus on how far I’ve come and not how I can easily go back. I’m no longer some girl living in the house.”

  “You are strong.” I cup her cheek.

  “Why wouldn’t he let it be?” Her body begins to relax.

  “I don’t know.”

  “He probably wants money. He probably thinks if he can get to me, you’ll pay him.”

  “Maybe.” I nod. “That makes sense, but he won’t get to you. At least we know he’s miles away in Nashville.”

  “Yeah. I’m going to let Sam know.”

  “You’re okay?” I ask her.

  “I think so.” She walks into the room where her phone is, and I walk back to the front where the guys are.

  Everyone is silent when I walk back in. No one knows much except that her stepdad is looking for her, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out it is a dysfunctional relationship.

  When Mikayla doesn’t come back out, I know she’s probably painting or talking to Sam.

  “Bet you want a drink right about now,” Trent, my drummer, says.

  “Fuck off.” But he isn’t wrong. It’s so much easier to drink than deal with this shit. Drinking was an excuse to not deal with life. What good would I be as a support to Mikayla if I weren’t functioning at my full capacity? If I show her that I rather not deal with her situation? That one drink I’d take right now to help me relax will be the very thing that will steal my girl.

  “I’m only joking. You know we’re all glad you got yourself together. I kinda like this softer Tyler better.”

  “You’re an ass,” I grunt.

  “I love you, too, brother. In all seriousness, all of us want Mikayla to be okay.”

  These guys are assholes, but they’ve been with me for years. We’re one, when it comes to music. And now, when it comes to Mikayla. I know none of them would hesitate to protect her. Feeling the weight of this on my shoulders, I grab my phone and call Bill. I lie on one of the bunks and wait for him to answer.

  I tell him how I’m feeling and the desire to have a fucking drink. One. How bad could it be? He asks how the tour is going, and then tells me to look at Mikayla. I can’t see her from here, but I can hear her moving around in the room.

  He says, “That woman is one of the reasons you’re working on your sobriety. You love her and want to do right by her. But what I’ve learned in the recent years is that we stay sober for ourselves. We all use an excuse to quit the drinking—family, friends, work—but we choose to continue it each day for ourselves. Because we deserve the best life we can get without an excuse that we are pleasing someone else.”

  “Hell.”

  “I know I’m right, you don’t have to tell me.”

  I laugh. “You’re one of a kind, Bill.”

  “So are you, Tyler.”

  I hang up after a few more minutes and go check on Mikayla. When I open the door, I see her working on a painting. I know she hears me by the slight movement her body makes.

  “I want to make sure you’re okay.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Not too convincing, Red.”

  “I’m trying to be okay.” She shrugs and fin
ally faces me. “I promise I am.”

  “I know.” I hug her, engulfing her in my arms, and holding her to me for as long as she’ll let me.

  “We gotta go soon,” I whisper.

  “I know.” Her voice is muffled by my chest.

  I have a small concert at a private venue tonight before we have five days without any concerts, only some radio interviews. I’ll be glad for the quiet.

  I cup Mikayla’s face and lift it up to meet my eyes. Her arms stay around my body. I chuckle lightly and run my finger down her cheek, taking with it the red paint that spread there. I remember the first time I saw her like that. We are in such a different place than we were then. From judging and angry to respectful and in love. Because there is no other way to describe it than love and respect.

  If I could go in and release it all from her so she would never have to suffer another day in her life with the memory of what was, I would jump in and do it. But I know I can’t. I know that this is her journey in life and what she needed to live through for whatever reason. I don’t like that she, or anyone else for that matter, has to endure such experiences. What I can do is stay by her side and listen to what she’s not saying with words, but with her body, and hold her close each day. I promise to her and myself that I will be the man she deserves because, Lord knows, I haven’t always been a worthy man.

  I lean my face down and close the gap between us, kissing her with my silent promise.

  I know that I have healed with a lot of things. I know that I have found forgiveness and love, even when I thought that certain people never deserved it, including myself. It has been hell getting where I am right now. Actually, worse than hell is purgatory. The lingering feeling of constant suffering and emptiness. I have lived it all. For that reason, I refuse to let my fear eat at me again and bring me down. I may live with the remnants of my past within me because they have shaped me, but I have fought for myself so that those pieces don’t consume me, but teach me.

  One can find the light if willing to walk in the darkness. I almost gave up. I look around and feel the cool breeze that sways the leaves and chills my skin. After Tyler’s private concert two days ago, we drove to North California. This place is beautiful. The guys wanted to see the area, and since they have a few days off, Joe allowed it. Their next concert is in Los Angeles anyway, so a drive down the state won’t be too bad.

  Tyler squeezes the hand he’s holding once and I look at him, smiling. His cap is placed low on his head, shadowing his eyes like always.

  “This place is gorgeous,” I tell him.

  “It is.” He observes the scenery.

  The trees are giants around us, and the climate is cool despite it being spring already.

  I close my eyes and breathe in deeply, taking in the scents that surround me. Something is woodsy and humid. I smell eucalyptus and instantly feel calm and transformed to another place. Another world.

  I open my eyes and bask in the greens that are becoming more vibrant with the change in season. The barks are rough and moist. Somewhere on the giants are birds singing a beautiful hymn.

  Right here in this place, I take a step back and realize how small we are in this world. We believe we are the priority on this land, but our lives continue because we have the help from nature. It’s a balance. And if I can stand as tall and rooted as one of these trees, not even the strongest winds will tear me down.

  Tyler and I walk further into the forest silently, listening carefully to all the sounds around us. The rustling of the leaves on the ground. Movement throughout us. Probably animals living their lives and watching the two strangers exploring their home.

  We get back to the empty bus and I plop on the sofa. The terrain here is rougher than I’m used to, even with all the exercise I have done in the last few months. Tyler tips his head back next to me and closes his eyes. His left hand lazily drapes over my thighs.

  I smile, remembering how careful he used to be about touching me. I have a need to feel his skin on mine that nothing could ever destroy. No abuse. No emotional breakdown. Tyler’s touch fuels me.

  Somewhere on the bus I hear my phone ring. I break my eyes away from Tyler so I can search for it. I follow the sound and find it on the bed.

  My heart skips when the number is unfamiliar. I hesitate to answer, but if I let it go to voicemail, I am being a coward to what is in front of me.

  “Hello?” My voice never quavers.

  “Hello, I am looking for Ms. Mikayla Anderson.”

  I furrow my eyebrows and respond. “This is she.”

  “Ms. Anderson, this is Officer Williams. I am calling in regards to Brad Miller. I went to your listed home in Georgia to speak in person, but you were not there. I do apologize telling you this over the phone, but Mr. Miller has passed.”

  You know the feeling of entering a vortex where the swooshing in your mind muffles your hearing and all you hear is a deep whoo sound? The feeling of losing sight for a second because everything around you blurs into one. Where you want to respond, but you’re muted by emotions.

  “Ms. Anderson?” I hear him calling, but I cannot answer.

  Suddenly, Tyler is in the room, grabbing the phone with one hand and cradling my body with the other.

  “This is Tyler Hunt, Mikayla’s boyfriend.”

  Silence as he listens.

  “Okay . . . That’s right. Yes, it had been a long time since she saw him . . . No. That won’t be necessary. I’ll wait to hear from him. Thank you.”

  I clench my eyes and ball my fists tightly.

  “Red?” Tyler is carrying me onto the bed. “It’s over,” he whispers.

  “Aaagghhhh!” I yell loudly with my eyes still closed. Tears are threatening to fall, but I refuse to let them. My eyelids trap them in an attempt to show no real emotion towards the man that destroyed my life.

  Tyler wraps his arms around me strongly, holding me together when all I want to do is fall apart. He rocks us softly, silently giving me the strength I need.

  All my muscles contract in tension and anger, in disbelief and hatred. I yell one more time, Tyler containing me, and let it all out. Tears flow freely as I sob into his chest. The tension I was holding onto is released as I give up trying to control everything.

  “He’s gone,” Tyler whispers again in my ear.

  After all the work I have done on releasing the guilt and shame, nothing prepared me for the day I would have to face his death. I never saw that as an option. He always seemed unbeatable.

  “Did they say how?”

  “Heart attack, it seems. He did have a high level of alcohol in his system. The officer didn’t say much else. A lawyer will be contacting you.”

  “Why?” I finally catch my breath.

  “The house is yours.”

  “I don’t want it,” I say firmly.

  “I figured. It’s still yours to do what you want.”

  “Sell it.”

  Tyler doesn’t fight me. He holds me close, running his hand up and down my back in a soothing motion.

  It’s over. Emotionally for some time now, and physically starting today. The fear and the stress that was trying to tear us down leaves the space around us as reality dawns on me. He’s dead. Heart attack.

  Something so simple ended him. The body is a complex thing. I know death is not the solution here, but my own self in response to it. One cannot wait their entire life for death to cure them of their weaknesses.

  “I want to tell Sam.” I finally speak.

  “Okay,” Tyler responds but does not release me.

  “Ty, I need to move.”

  He is hesitant in letting me go. As if I would run straight out of the bus, leaving behind only my imprint.

  “Fine.” He says this almost to himself. His hold loosens, and I roll over to get my phone.

  I search her name and press call when I sit on the bed.

  “Mikayla.” Sam always answers the same.

  “Hey. I got a call a little while ago. My stepdad d
ied.”

  “Oh?” The question in her voice is indifferent. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m okay. I guess there are some things I need to take care of, but I don’t want to.”

  “Call it closure,” she says.

  “He was in Nashville,” I inform her. Although we knew the last number he called from was a Nashville pay phone, this confirms that he was looking for me.

  “I know.”

  I squint my eyes as I listen to her tone. This is a different Sam than I am used to dealing with.

  “Sam . . .”

  “Yes, Mikayla?”

  “You sound different.” I can’t put my finger on it, but she isn’t like the person I know.

  “A little bit of darkness stays within all of us.”

  “What?”

  “I’m glad you’re safe.” Her voice softens a bit.

  “Samantha, what did you do?”

  “Protect those I love.”

  I open my mouth to speak, but I have nothing to say. I look over at Tyler as he stares intently trying to dissect the conversation.

  “Thank you,” I say quietly.

  Sam tells me to call her if I need to talk. Her friend, Bale, leaves back to Amsterdam today so she will be taking him to the airport, but she will be free to talk after that. I reassure her that I am okay but promise to call if I need her.

  After I hang up, Tyler looks at me and asks, “What did she say?”

  “I think she . . .”

  “No?” He looks at me incredulously.

  I nod.

  “Are you sure?” he asks.

  “Pretty sure.” I stare around the room for a moment, taking this all in. “Do you know Sam’s story?” I finally ask Tyler.

  “No.” He shakes his head.

  “Maybe she’ll tell it to you one day. She’s one of the strongest people I know.”

  “You’re the strongest person I know.” He kisses me softly. “This okay?”

  “From you it’s always okay.” I kiss him back and sigh into him. The gratitude I feel for meeting Tyler expands throughout me.

  I sit numbly for a while not sure what to make of any of this. Closure. Is this my time for final closure?