Chasing Darien ~ J.M. Stoneback

by Stoneback, J. M

“Shh. Everything will be okay,” I whisper as tears leak from my eyes and we stand there crying in each other’s arms. Even though we both know that my words are a load of crock, he doesn’t correct me. I think we both want to believe that everything will be okay, but it won’t be.

  I close the car door behind me and head to Darien’s apartment. I don’t want to go home now. Just want to be under Darien and let him love me. I feel like my energy has been sucked out of me. I want to cook him dinner because I feel guilty for still having an emotional connection with Charles.

  Inside, I grab the blue cutting board on the counter and take out the green onions and red and yellow bell peppers from the bottom of the fridge and chop the veggies.

  I’m supposed to be moving on with the love of my life, but I can’t help but wonder, if things hadn’t turned out so ugly with Charles, would we still be together? What if Cole didn’t die? Would we have been the same happy couple we were before his death? My mom always told me that things happen for a reason, and I don’t know if I believe that.

  I want to make Darien’s favorite dish—steak and veggies. I place the chopped veggies in the white bowl, and I take out the fresh-cut steak from the fridge and place it on the blue cutting board. Grabbing the garlic and black pepper seasoning, I dab it on the steak. I grab the cast iron from under the cabinet and place it on the stove. I turn the knob to medium-high and use a pair of tongs and place the steaks in the skillet and they sizzle. Tonight is going to be about us, not Charles. I care so deeply for Darien that I don’t want Charles’ health to affect our relationship. I grab my phone from the counter and send Darien a message.

  Me: Are you working late?

  He responds.

  D: Yes, sweetheart.

  Me: How late?

  D: I’ll be home by six.

  Me: OK. I’ll have dinner ready for you.

  D: OK. Thanks, sweetheart.

  Me: You’re welcome.

  As I turn the steak over in the skillet, I turn the knob, fixing our plate and sticking them in the fridge. I go to his library and run my fingers along the different books on his bookshelf. Business textbooks and horror books decorate the bookcase. Too bad there isn’t any Ghost in the Shell manga stocking his collection. Might buy some so I can have something to read when Darien isn’t here.

  Since I’m bored, I want to check my Facebook. I go to his computer and wiggle the mouse. I type in Facebook in the search engine, and Darien’s page pops up. I click the log out button.

  “You found what you were looking for?”

  His voice makes me jump out of my skin. I press my palm against my chest. “Jesus, Darien. You’re going to give me a heart attack.” I stand up from the desk.

  He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me into a kiss.

  “I cooked dinner,” I say, leading him to the kitchen. I grab his plate from the fridge and stick it in the microwave, and I heat up both our meals. “I went to the doctor with Charles.”

  The microwave beeps and I grab his warm plate and place it on the breakfast nook. He stabs the steak with his fork and doesn’t say anything. Awkward silence.

  “He’s dying. He’s got three months to live. I tried to convince him to take the medication to shrink the tumor, but he doesn’t want it.”

  No response. The thick veins in Darien’s arms pop as he frowns. I hate the silent treatment. Hate the fact that I don’t know what he is thinking. What the hell am I expecting him to say? “Sorry for your loss.” “I hope he gets better.” “If you need me, call me.”

  “Please, say something,” I whisper.

  “If I say something, it’s gonna hurt your feelings, and I don’t want to do that,” he says, getting up from the nook, carrying his plate to the room. The slam of the door echoes throughout the condo. I bury my face in my palms and cry.

  Darien

  ALANA IS FAST asleep with her arm covering her face, and her hair is splayed out on the satin pillow. Pain, heartbreak is something I didn’t think I would experience right now. I can’t compete with a dying man and I won’t. Even though Red won’t admit it, she still loves him.

  I grab my iPad from the drawer and scroll through my Facebook, checking my messages.

  I feel Red slipping through my fingers. Our relationship is crumbling and she doesn’t realize. She is my obsession, my muse, and my love. I want to punch the wall—and Charles—because I know at the end of the day she is going to choose him. Tears well in my eyes and fall down my face. Haven’t cried since my stepmom died. Shit. Shit. Shit. It’s hard to watch the love of your life love someone else, and with this sickness hanging over our heads, I don’t expect us to last long.

  My mom left me because she didn’t want me. Mia chose drugs over me, and now Alana is going to choose her ex-husband over me. I don’t know if I’m going to be fine about it. My heart is breaking. And I won’t put her in a position to choose between me or that piece of shit. That will hurt her way too much. And I won’t watch her love another man either. I’m selfish. Want her to tell him to fuck off, but I can’t ask her to do that.

  I hit the close button on the screen, lay it on the nightstand and wrap my arms around Alana and kiss her hair as I continue to cry.

  Alana

  AS I OPEN the door to my old home, I set the white packet of Charles’ medication on the counter and walk to the living room. Charles sits in his brown leather recliner, watching a Western movie. He wheezes and turns to look at me. “Thank you. Is Darien okay with you running errands for me?” he asks, as he grabs the remote and turns the volume down.

  “Why does it matter?”

  I don’t know what is going on between Darien and me. When we had sex this morning, his eyes were lifeless, cold and distant. At breakfast, he only uttered a few words, telling me he would be late again coming home. I understand how he feels because if it were the other way around, I would be pissed. I feel like a cheater. I spend the day with Charles, and at night I come home to Darien. Charles doesn’t have anyone else though. His grandmother has osteoporosis, and she can barely move around. That’s my excuse I tell myself. Deep down I want to be there for him, even though I want to hate his guts.

  Charles frowns and turns his view back to the screen. As I make my way to the hallway to grab a blanket from the hall closet, pictures hang on the eggshell wall. I peer at one picture of me in the hospital holding Cole—he was only a day old. Those brown eyes and black straight hair. Haven’t seen this picture in years. I move onto another picture of me on my eighteenth birthday. Charles bought me a stack of comic books and a diamond necklace. He has old pictures of us going to prom. I wore a long purple gown, and he wore a tux with a purple tie. Then I move on to our wedding day—we got married at the courthouse.

  With the gray blanket in my hand, I walk back to the living room. My throat is thick with emotions.

  “Why do you have those pictures up?” I wrap the blanket over his body and settle on the brown leather couch next to him.

  “When I die, I want to be surrounded with people I love. What I did to you wasn’t called for, but I was only trying to make the right choice. I didn’t want to fail the baby like I failed Cole.”

  Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I don’t know what to say. “I have to go. Darien is waiting for me,” I say, needing to get away from him. He tugs on my arm so I won’t leave.

  “If I could take back what I did to you, I would. I’m sorry I blamed you for Cole’s death.” He rubs the back of his neck.

  “Plea—”

  “Shut up and let me apologize to you.” He grabs my hand and kisses it. “I’m so sorry, sweet pea. Failed you as a husband.” Emotions are packed in his words. I cry ugly tears. He wipes them with the pad of his thumb. “After his death, we never talked about it, and I abandoned you when you needed me, and I’m sorry.” He pulls me into his arms and strokes my hair.

  “I’m sorry too,” I say, rubbing my nose. “Sorry that I disconnected from you when you needed me the most. Made you feel like you
didn’t lose him. I pushed you into Rebecca’s arms. I neglected you.”

  “Yeah, but I shouldn’t have cheated. I broke us.”

  “We were already broken before you cheated.”

  He doesn’t respond, but squeezes me tighter.

  Before leaving Charles, I made his favorite shrimp tacos and I made sure his pain medication and orange juice sat on the table next to his recliner. Now I soak in the white tub and pour lavender body wash in the water, hoping to soak off my emotions. I take the washcloth, dab soap on it and scrub my feet. I’m not bitter and angry towards Charles like I was before. I’m at peace about our relationship. I don’t love him in the way that I love Darien. Charles’ apology makes me realize he is not the same teenage boy I fell in love with. We’ve both grown from the poor decisions we made.

  I scrub my stomach and my arms and take the chrome shower head and spray my body. The water tickles my skin. I drape the rag over the rail as I let warm tears drip down my cheeks. Wish Darien was here to hold me. Gosh, I love him to the moon and back. Love him to the point where I can’t see my life without him. I used to hate love. But now, I love love. It makes me feel safe, makes me feel high like a drug. Darien’s love is a drug I want to snort up my nose like cocaine. Want to roll it in a blunt and inhale it in my lungs. The more I get a hit of him, the stronger I crave him. Never craved anyone in my life, not even Charles. I guess that is the reason why I don’t have a hard time letting Charles go, because I found my happiness.

  Darien leans in the arch of the doorway and looks like he has a ton of weight on his shoulders.

  “I love you,” I blurt out because I do. I love Darien more than life itself.

  “You love Charles, too.” He says it like it’s acid burning his tongue.

  “I don’t love him the way I love you,” I answer truthfully.

  “Alana, I’m not gonna make you choose between a dying man and me. And it fucking kills me that you are taking care of him. I saw you crying in the shower the other night and yo—”

  “Shut up, Darien Casey,” I yell. “Just shut the fuck up.” Tears fall and my heart beats fast. I know where this conversation is going and my heart is shattering, cracking piece by piece. He is breaking up with me.

  I stand up from the tub, pulling the plug, and the water drains. I almost trip and fall getting out of the tub. Grabbing a clean towel from the shelf, I wrap it around my body.

  I take the hair straighteners, makeup bag, and everything on the counter and toss it at the wall, wanting to toss it at his head. The stuff clinks against the tiles. I feel trapped in my own skin and too fucking torn. Darien wraps his arms around me and I cry. He kisses my forehead, a kiss goodbye. I feel his tears trickle on my forehead—silent tears. He scoops me into his arms like a bride. My body wets his black suit as he carries me to the bed. He pushes my hair out of my face and tilts my chin and his lips press against mine.

  “You’re not leaving me. Please don’t leave me.” My voice is thick.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but it’s for the best,” he whispers in my ear.

  He slides me on his lap and rocks me until I’m all cried out and asleep.

  Wish I can say that my days are getting better, but they are getting worse. I move on autopilot on most days, and when I don’t have the energy to move, I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. Gunner gave me my two-week vacation—he knows that Darien and I broke up and he knows about Charles, so he is giving me space. I turn on Netflix, binge on Attack on Titan and eat chocolate ice cream until my stomach hurts. I keep my phone off. Just want to hide from the world. It’s safe here, no one here to hurt me.

  Soft knocks at the door and I turn the television up. Crystal moved out two weeks ago. She and Clarence moved in together, and they are preparing for the birth of Ariel.

  The doorknob jiggles, and Ron and Crystal walk in. Her stomach is round like a basketball, and her tits are three times bigger than the last time I saw her. Ron sits on the couch next to me. Crystal hits the light switch.

  “You look like shit, Alana,” Crystal says.

  “Why the hell haven’t you been to work, baby girl?” Ron rests his arm on the back of the couch.

  I shake my head as tears come down my cheeks. “D-Darien broke up with me.” Hate saying it out loud. It makes it real.

  “Is it because of Charles?” Crystal pipes in.

  I nod my head. Haven’t been by to see Charles. He is the reason why Darien and I are not together. Hate him for it. He’s always fucking shit up in my life.

  “Darien knows I still love Charles. And he doesn’t want me to choose between him and Charles.” I pull my legs to my chest, wrapping my arms around myself, resting my chin on my knees. “I wasn’t going to choose Charles over him. I love Darien. But I can’t leave Charles by himself. He is dying, and he doesn’t have anyone to look after him.”

  “Darien is scared, Alana, he will come around.” Ron strokes my cheek. “He doesn’t want to compete with a dying guy.”

  “There is no competition,” I yell.

  “As long as Charles is in your life, baby girl, in Darien’s mind he is,” Ron murmurs.

  “If I wasn’t fat as a whale, I’d key his car.” Crystal rests her arms on her belly. “Men are stupid. No offense, Ron.”

  He throws his hands in the air and says, “None taken.”

  “Tell me some good news,” I murmur.

  I’m sick of hearing bad shit, trouble shit, and sorrow shit.

  “Well, my mom’s MS is getting better. She’s not urinating on herself as often, and the doctors switched drugs. And my dad is happy that he is having his first grandchild.”

  “That’s good.” I turn to Ron. “What about you?”

  He shrugs his shoulders. “A hot cop pulled me over, and I got off with a warning for speeding.”

  “You know what we need?” Crystal says. “A girls’ night out.”

  “No,” I groan.

  “Yes, we can get pedis and go to the club.”

  “That is exactly what we need.” Ron nods in agreement.

  “No,” I pipe in again.

  “You need to get out.” She leans in and takes a whiff. “When was the last time you bathed?” She waves her hand in her face. “You stink.”

  Shrugging my shoulders, I say, “It’s been a few days.”

  Crystal and Ron grab me by the arms, pulling me off the couch, dragging me to the bathroom. I kick and try to pull away, but they’re a lot stronger.

  “Get a bath and get dressed. You are getting out of this slump, and we are going to have fun. No more wallowing in your shit,” Crystal says before shutting the door.

  “All right! I’ll go,” I yell, turning on the faucet.

  Alana

  I MEET WITH Charles to pick out a coffin. He begged and pleaded for me to come with him. His grandmother couldn’t make it because she is still recovering from a broken hip.

  “What about this one? The lining is thick.” I stroke the soft white fabric. The casket is polished, and black. Charles leans against the cream wall to catch his breath. Every day he gets weaker and thinner.

  “It’s made out of real maple wood,” Chester says.

  Different glossy caskets decorate the showroom. The scent of fresh flowers suffocate the air. A thick lump builds in the back of my throat. This place has too many horrible memories.

  Charles’ eyes are bloodshot red and his breath reeks of liquor. He has on the same suit he’s worn for three days. My scalp prickles as tears spill down my cheeks.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Tucker, the lining of the coffin is thick and comfortable. He will rest well,” Chester says.

  “He is dead, for fuck’s sake. Why does he need to rest well? I’m so fucking done. So done with this bullshit.” Charles gets up from the table. “I should sue your sorry ass for trying to take advantage of us. Hope you burn in hell for this shit.” He turns his view towards me. “We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you,” Charles spits out.

  “That’s en
ough,” Gunner says. “Get the fuck out before I throw you out.”

  He spits in Gunner’s face, and Gunner tackles Charles to the ground. I scream at the top of my lungs for them to stop. Two security guards dressed in black kick both of them out of the showroom. My mom rubs my shoulder.

  “He didn’t mean it,” she whispers. I place my head in my palms.

  “He is right,” I say, between sobs.

  “Why does this shit matter? I’m going to be dead anyway,” Charles bites out, snapping me out of my memory.

  “We will take that one.” I ignore him. Charles squeezes my hand tight, and I never thought in a million years that two years after Cole’s death, we would be back here.

  “Where would you like to be buried?” Chester asks.

  “Next to our son, Cole,” Charles answers.

  I can’t take it anymore, so I stand up and hurry out of the showroom. I can’t be here any longer. Time is going by fast, and we don’t have a lot of time on our side.

  Outside, I stand against the brick wall, and my view turns to the grave site. A couple hug each other as they stand in front of a grave. The woman cries hysterically, and the man holds her tighter.

  Charles stands in front of me. The sun shines on his face, making his skin look paler. Fighting the urge to push him, I tuck my hand under my armpits.

  “Why didn’t you take the fucking medication, Charles?” I yell. “You would have had a chance to shrink the damn tumor, but you are not thinking about your grandmother. You’re selfish, and only think about yourself.”

  “It’s okay to be angry at me.” He tucks his hands into his coat pockets.

  “I’m not angry, I’m hurt! You don’t understand what you are doing to me.” Tears slide down my cheeks, unchecked. “You have people who care about you and love you.” I cry harder. “Please live, live for me.” My voice hurts from yelling, and the dry cold weather isn’t helping either.

  “You act like I have a fucking choice. If I take the treatment, I’m still going to die, sweet pea. Whether you like it or not. So deal with the shit.” He runs his pale fingers through his hair. “Do you want us to spend our last few months fighting? Huh?” he wheezes out. “Get your ass back in there and help me arrange my funeral!”