Regretting Gabriel

by Brooks, Anna

  “Hi, Ms. Cady.”

  “Hey, Melody. How are you, sweetie?”

  She smiles and hands me a picture she colored. “I made this for you.” She runs back to her mom and wraps her arms around her leg.

  Lifting the paper, I admire the scribbles all over a page of hearts and flowers with music notes. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

  When she doesn’t say anything, Meara Kelly-Anders, the wife of Liam Anders, best drummer in the history of drummers who gave up his career to be with his family, rubs her daughter’s head. “Ms. Cady said something to you, baby. Can you answer her?”

  Melody lifts her head. “You’re welcome.”

  Another little girl who she knows walks in, and suddenly, she disappears, and Meara shakes her head with a quiet laugh. “She was so excited to give that to you.”

  “I’m honored that she’d even think of me.” I tuck some hair behind my ears.

  “Oh girl, she talks about you all the time. Especially to Lee. You remember me telling you he used to be in a band and has a music studio?”

  I know everything there is to know about him, and the entire band, but I continue to keep that to myself. “Yes, I remember.”

  “She’s always telling him how good you are on the guitar and how pretty your voice is. He’s going to rearrange his schedule to come with us one day.”

  I can feel my almond-shaped eyes widen to large circles but not for the reason she thinks.

  She puts her hand on my arm. “Don’t be intimidated. He just wants to see what all the fuss is about.”

  “Okay.” I swallow nervously and look over at my bottle of water. “I’m going to get a drink before everyone gets here.”

  “Oh, yes. Of course.” She drops her hand. “I’ll go grab a seat.”

  Once she’s out of sight, I take a drink, then grab my guitar. And for the next forty minutes, I read stories and sing songs to a bunch of kids whose innocent laughter makes me forget about the fact that I’m a murderer.

  They give me enough joy to get through the day, and when I get home, I barely have my door open when my friend and neighbor, Gia, calls my name. “Drink time.”

  She marches over with a bottle of wine, and I giggle as I push my door all the way open, and we make our way inside. By the time I take my coat off and hang my keys on the hook, she’s pouring herself a glass.

  “God, I needed this.” She slumps in the chair as she sets her wine glass down after taking a large swallow.

  “Bad day?” I guess.

  “Bad week.” She swirls some pinot around and watches as the liquid comes precariously close to the lip of the glass. “My boss is a dick.”

  I pout sympathetically as I pop the top off a beer and lean on the island separating my kitchen and living room. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I’m just sick of him acting like I should do all the bitch work because I’m not married and don’t have kids. Just because I’m a successful single woman doesn’t mean I don’t have a life, ya know?”

  No. “Yeah.”

  “I mean, seriously. It’s Friday night at seven, and I just got home fifteen minutes ago. I’m the last one left in the office every evening, and when I go in tomorrow morning at six thirty, I’ll be the first one there.”

  “Can’t you just say no?”

  “No.”

  I scrunch my lips as she finishes off her glass of wine. I guess I don’t find it hard to believe, but my boss is rarely, if ever, in the library, and when he is, he doesn’t ever make me work more than I’m supposed to. Granted, I’m a librarian, though, and not an executive assistant.

  As I grab the bottle and pour her more wine, she keeps talking. “Technically, I could say no, but if I did, I’d probably lose my job. As much as I hate it some days, I want the experience and dedication on my resume so when I do get another job, it doesn’t show me bouncing around a lot.”

  “That makes sense.” I finger the stem and slide it over to her. “Are you thinking about looking for another job now?”

  “No, but if something happens to pop up, I won’t be opposed to it.” She shakes her head. “Enough about me. How was your day?”

  Aside from my brother… “Good. Story time was today, and you know how much I like that. So really good, I guess.”

  “Do you want kids of your own?”

  I choke on my beer, and she hands me a napkin. “Thanks.”

  “Wow. You want them that much, huh?”

  It’s not that I don’t want them; it’s just that it’s getting into territory that I don’t want to talk about. Because in order to have kids, you have to have a man. And in order to have a man, you have to date. And in order to date, you have to be open to the possibility of it… which I’m not.

  There are a million reasons, but none of them I’d give.

  “Do you?” I change the subject, just as I do whenever things get too close for comfort. She’s one of my only friends, but she doesn’t know a lot about me.

  “Yeah. For sure. But I’ve gotta find the right guy. The perfect guy. I know what I want, and since Prince William is married, I’ll just have to wait.”

  We both find humor in that, giggling more than we probably would if we didn’t have alcohol in our systems, but when her phone rings, she whines. “Sorry, my mom… always worried.” She rolls her eyes, and I shift uneasily on my feet.

  I’ll never have that. Ever again. Well, I never did with my own mother. It’s not having my dad that hurts my heart. I turn my back to her while I get another beer and try not to listen to her conversation, but it’s impossible.

  “Yeah, I know. Sorry I didn’t tell you, but I’m home now. I know the roads are bad, but it’s not even a mile. Yeah… No, he is? I haven’t talked to him in a few weeks, but he didn’t mention it then. Sure. I will. All right, I’ve gotta go. I’m havin’ a glass of wine with Cady. I will. Bye. Yeah, love you too.”

  I toss the cap into the garbage as she sets her phone back on the counter. “My mom says hi.”

  “Tell her hello when you talk to her again.”

  “I will.”

  Gia and I have been neighbors for three years, but she’s lived in the complex for four. It’s a fairly old building, but the location to downtown is worth it, even with the steep price tag. Since the library is less than a mile away, it works for me. And since Gia’s office is close as well, it’s easy to say it works for her, too.

  We often walk home together during the warmer months. When it’s cold, she drives, but I still walk. I walk everywhere if I can because I hate being in a car. Occasionally, I’ll join her on Friday for dinner with some of her co-workers if they’re eating somewhere close. I usually just sit around and listen in on the conversation, smiling and answering any questions as they’re asked. But mostly, I just people watch.

  Gia is super nice, and though I’d call her a friend, I don’t know too much about her. When I moved in, I had no clue who she was at first. Our friendship is very superficial in the sense that we never really get into a lot of personal stuff. I do know she has a twin brother who’s never home, and her parents have a rocky relationship. That’s what I know from what she’s told me, but in truth, I know more than she thinks.

  That aside, I’m very neighborly, and she is as well. When I make too much guac, I carry a container across the hall for her. When she makes cupcakes for her work for her boss’s birthday, she gives me two.

  When I run out of tape while wrapping the Christmas presents for the kids at Children’s Hospital, I borrow a roll from her. When she needs a hole in a sweater mended, she drops it off to me.

  If I’m home and she’s had a bad day, she knocks on my door and has a glass of wine and tells me all about it. I like that she comes to me because it’s nice to feel like you’re wanted in some way, shape, or form. But when my brother calls me and harasses me, I don’t vent my frustrations to her.

  I keep it all to myself. Just like everything else in my life.

  Gabriel

  My pho
ne wakes me with an obnoxious rooster crow, and it makes me groan. I use that ringtone on purpose because the person on the other end constantly cackles at me, so I thought it was hilarious. Funny, but fitting. She doesn’t appreciate it, but I still keep it.

  I almost don’t answer because I don’t want to deal with my sister, but if I don’t, she’ll just continue to call until I pick up. Mom must have told her I was in town.

  “What?” I don’t intend for my voice to sound so gruff, but I’m hungover and barely got any sleep.

  “Geez, Gabriel, it’s after one in the afternoon.” She greets me with an attitude, and I immediately get annoyed with her.

  “Didn’t go to bed until four, Gianna.”

  “That’s still nine hours of sleep.”

  I know it’ll irritate her, so I say, “Didn’t say I went to sleep at four.”

  She makes a gagging noise, and I would laugh, but I’m too damn tired. All the shit that’s happening with the band and Kolby and Jamie is exhausting. “You’re disgusting.”

  “You’re calling me on one of the few vacations I have and waking me up to talk shit?”

  “No,” she snaps. “I’m ignoring the fact you’re in town and didn’t call me to let me know you were home because I actually need your help.”

  At the sound of urgency in her voice, I sit up, and the sheet falls to my lap. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. I just have to go out of town for a couple of weeks last minute for work, and I need someone to take care of my cats.”

  “Over Christmas?”

  “Yes. Over freaking Christmas. My boss said I could fly back, but what’s the point when I’d only be here for a day? Now, I really need to go pack. The Uber is coming in ten minutes. Can you watch them for me or not?”

  Leaning back on my headboard, I say, “No.”

  I know she’s glaring at me, one of the unfortunate perks that comes with being a twin. “Come on. You’re in town, and you have nothing else to do until you guys go back on the road.” I haven’t talked to her in a while, so she doesn’t know it’s going to be months that we’re home because as of right now, we have no drummer.

  “One, that’s not true. I have a shit ton of stuff to do. And two, I hate cats, Gianna. Ask Mom to do it.”

  “Mom hates driving in the snow, so I’m not going to ask her. And you don’t hate cats. You’re not even allergic to them like Dad is, so you can’t use that excuse. You just hate anything that might inconvenience you in the slightest or doesn’t benefit the almighty Gabriel Hunter.”

  My body heats up in agitation, and I don’t even try to check my response. “That’s fuckin’ bullshit.”

  “No. What’s bullshit is you, Gabriel. You’re barely home, and whenever you are, all you do is hide out in your big fancy house and pretend nobody else exists but you. Just like always. I should be surprised but I’m not.”

  “Like always?” I growl.

  “Yeah. Like always. You always were selfish. Only ever thought about yourself and never gave a shit about any of us you left behind. So ya know what, Gabe?” I know she’s pissed because she called me Gabe. My entire family always calls me Gabriel. In fact, they’re the only people who do. With most families, when the mom says the kid’s full name, that means they’re in trouble, but for us, it’s the opposite.

  I should just hang up on her instead of continuing to listen to her bitch. “What, Gia?” I snap.

  “Forget I called. Forget you have a mother who still lights a candle every Sunday for you and a father who prays for your forgiveness each night before he goes to bed. Forget if it wasn’t for them, you wouldn’t even be here. Forget the fact that you left and when you did, you left me with your shit. Forget I live fifteen minutes away from you and forget my fucking number. Not like that’ll be hard because you never call it anyway.”

  And with those acidic parting words, my sister hangs up on me. I don’t bother trying to call her back because she won’t answer. Once she’s pissed, she won’t talk to you until she’s ready and not a second before. I learned that the hard way throughout the years.

  Dropping my phone on the floor, I squeeze my eyes shut, pinching the bridge of my nose to relieve some of the pressure from my impending headache and the stress of dealing with my family.

  She’s partially right. I hide out and avoid my parents as much as I can because, straight up, I don’t want to deal with them and their shit. Every time I come home, I question my own sanity because, without fail, there’s always drama. Then again, with me there always is, even when I’m not home. Especially on the road. It’s not like I go out looking for it; it just comes to me.

  Or maybe it’s because I have a short temper and a zero-tolerance policy for bullshit. I don’t let anything slide, I don’t let things go, and I definitely don’t give anyone a pass for being a douche.

  “Who was that?”

  Shit.

  I wince and take a breath because I totally forgot I wasn’t alone. My eyelids open to slits, and I stare down at the blonde rousing awake. Her blue eyes are surrounded by black makeup, and her red lipstick is somehow still intact on her plump lips.

  “Don’t worry about it.” I don’t even remember her name, so no way in hell am I going to tell her anything other than what position I want her in. Or wanted.

  She hums as her nails scrape down my chest. I drop my head to the wall when her hand wraps around my cock. As much as I want this chick’s mouth on me again, the fight I just got in with my sister and the things she specifically said about my parents assure I’m not gettin’ it up anytime soon.

  So I grab her wrist and pull her arm away. I don’t know how or why she’s even still here in the first place. I must have been too wasted to kick her out. I never sleep with someone, and I definitely never bring them back to my place, which is why we’re in a hotel. “I’m takin’ a shower. Be gone by the time I’m done.”

  I laid it out before I brought her here, and knowing exactly what this is, she reaches for her bra without argument. “Should I leave my number?”

  “Sure.”

  We both know I’ll never call her, but she nods probably to save face. I’m not going to be so much of a dick as to deny her that even though she knew what coming to a hotel with me meant. I wait to turn on the shower after I hear the door close, then I stand under the spray for a good ten minutes.

  All I can think about is that damn conversation with Gianna. I’m not a fan of being back home, and even though my sister is partially right, she’s more wrong. I didn’t just leave everyone behind. I check in regularly, and despite the fuckin’ bullshit, I still come home whenever we aren’t touring, which isn’t often.

  Since Reason to Ruin’s conception over ten years ago, we’ve been on the road for what seems like nonstop. And I love every damn minute of it. The noise, the fans, the pussy, the alcohol, my bandmates, the money. All of it. Life on the road is the shit, and I can’t wait to get back to it as soon as we can.

  If it were up to me, we’d never stop touring, but realistically, I know it can’t last forever, and we do need breaks every now and then. As much as I hate to admit it, it does get tiring, so it’s nice to have some time to recharge.

  After I get out of the shower, I put some clothes on and decide to bite the bullet and call my mom. She picks up after the second ring. “Hey, Gabriel.” There’s a shocked smile in her voice, and it guts me to know she’s surprised and relieved that her son calls her. I should do better, but I just can’t. Not after what she put me through.

  “Hi, Ma.”

  The volume of the TV is muted in the receiver, and knowing her, she’s watching a soap opera. “How’re you doing? Is something wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. Why would you say that?”

  “Well, you called yesterday…” She trails off, and I realize she didn’t want to finish saying that she was surprised I called two days in a row.

  God, I’m a dick. “Nothing’s wrong, Ma.”

  “Oh, good. We’re all
ready for Christmas. Are you… do you want to come this year? I mean, you’re home, and it looks like Gianna isn’t going to be here, but I thought… I just thought maybe you’d want to.” It’s been a few years since I spent the holidays with my family even though I’ve been in town the past three of them. I managed to get out of it by faking illness or lying about some other lame ass thing to avoid my father.

  “Is your husband going to be there?”

  She sighs, and I hate the hurt in her voice, but it doesn’t change anything. She might be able to forgive and forget, but I can’t do it. “I love him, Gabriel.”

  I tell her the same fucking thing I’ve always told her. “He doesn’t love you.”

  “He does, he just didn’t know how to show it all the time. He’s better now. It’s been years, and I’ve forgiven him. I don’t know why you have to do this to me.”

  “I’m not doing anything to you. I called to say hi, but if you’re gonna do this, then I’m gonna let you go.”

  She exhales, and before she says it, I know exactly what’ll come out of her mouth. “I love you both. How do I choose?”

  The fucked-up thing is, she’s already chosen. She picks him—she’s always picked him—so her questions don’t deserve an answer. “Love you, Ma. I’ll take you out to dinner later in the week, okay?”

  “That sounds really great, Gabriel.”

  After making arrangements for a date and time, I hang up before she can throw more shit at me.

  I raid the minibar while I check my email and respond to messages on social media. Once that’s done, I grab my keys and wallet because I can’t stand around any longer. And if I go to my house, it’ll be empty. I need to be around people. I need noise, chaos, and disarray. Without those things, I’m left alone to my thoughts, and they aren’t a good place to be.

  It’s five o’clock somewhere, so I run home and change into clean clothes, then head downtown to Kelly’s Pub. Meara, the wife of our old drummer Liam, owns the place, and it’s one of the only bars we hang out at when we’re home. People aren’t all up in our shit here, which is nice. And right now is a time I really need for people not to be up in my business.