Us After You

by Claudia Burgoa

  “Douglas, leave me alone,” I press again. “There’re plenty of women in New York who would die to marry you.”

  “Do it for our baby,” he says, and I wince because that’s a memory I buried deep down within me.

  Anxiety flares, and I slowly lift my gaze and look at him. I hold the tears that are threatening to cascade. Rage seeps from my flesh. I fist my hands.

  “You killed the baby,” I remind him, my voice echoing through the chilly air. “Remember that night when you beat me to a pulp? I didn’t even know I was pregnant until they said, ‘I’m sorry. You lost the baby.’”

  “We all make mistakes,” he claims.

  “I agree, they are part of life. Learning moments. You know what I learned?” I ask rhetorically. “Never to believe in your words. ‘I’m sorry’ means fucking nothing. It means, ‘You better not fuck with me again, or the next time, it’ll be worse.’”

  “Stop making up shit that’s not real, Sage,” he orders, and the warning in his voice turns my stomach.

  There’s a feeling of dread growing into fear.

  Don’t let him scare you. It’s just words.

  “I let you have some time off from us, but it’s time to go back home, Sage.” Anger drips from his words. “You’re mine.”

  Venom, poison, hunger. He wants to humiliate me again. To see me cry.

  “You don’t get to come into my home and try to bring back the fucked-up relationship we had,” I say, holding the real anger.

  I won’t fight him, but I will stand up to him and set my own ground rules. “You haven’t changed. Why don’t you choose a new wife among all the mistresses you collected during the time we were together?”

  His brow curls in disbelief. “Sage, I’m giving you a chance. Not only for you but your parents. They need a new business partner. You need…”

  He looks around the area and laughs. The sound is dark and disturbed. He moves closer to my face, and I feel his hot, nauseating breath. “You need to get the fuck away from this town.”

  My mouth dries up, and I swallow hard. My parents went to him for help. What the fuck is wrong with them? It shouldn’t surprise me. They come first. Their priorities are all screwed up.

  When I filed the divorce papers, I was in the hospital, and my mother dared to say, “You’re not thinking this through. Why don’t you calm down and wait until you go home and talk things through with him?”

  “Because the next time he threatens me emotionally or physically, I’ll kill him.”

  She gasped and left the room, claiming she didn’t recognize me.

  Surprisingly, Sienna supported me. She understood why I had to leave.

  “Nothing you say will make me run like a scared creature. Nor will I go back to you because I’m terrified of your bullshit.”

  Okay, so maybe I should’ve watched my words, because the next thing I know, there’s a roar of rage ripping through the wind that’s coming up his throat. His hand circles around my throat, and fear strikes me. The flashbacks of that night. Our life together. The loss of someone I hadn’t even known existed.

  I find the strength within me and headbutt him as I work to get out of his grasp.

  The great thing about small towns is that everything is within a five-minute distance. The sheriff arrives as I’m pushing him away from me. Douglas releases me, and I stumble back, my feet getting tripped up, but one of the deputies helps steady me.

  They read him his rights as they cuff him.

  “I love you, Sage,” he says in desperation. “Tell them I’m your husband. I didn’t do anything.”

  “Never come back,” I say.

  He slants a glare, and I can feel the words before he says them. “This isn’t over. You’ll pay for this.”

  “Do you want to file a restraining order, Ms. Heywood?” the sheriff asks, and I nod. “We’ll make sure he doesn’t come back into town.”

  9

  Tucker

  Nana: Rocco is playing for Midnight Buzz.

  Tucker: What do you mean he’s playing for them?

  Ethan: I just googled it. It’s true. He’s replacing Greco Karls.

  Zeke: Why is Karls leaving the band?

  Ethan: He’s not leaving, only taking a break—shoulder surgery and shit.

  Zeke: I bet he’s going to rehab but their PR is handling it as ‘medical leave.’ Good for him if he’s trying to get clean.

  Nana: Rocco hasn’t contacted us, but he’s playing for another band?

  Zeke: It’s his life. We have to choose our own path. He thinks music is all he has.

  Nana: Are you okay, Z?

  Alex: Does this mean we can get married?

  Nana: I don’t even know if I should be waiting for him.

  Zeke: To be honest, I’d rather not see him. He didn’t finish treatment. I know it’s been long enough since I went to rehab, but I’m not sure that being around him is something that I need or can handle.

  Nana: I’m proud of you, Z.

  Alex: We’re all proud of you. Also, we’re going to Switzerland next weekend for my birthday. Do any of you want to join us?

  Ethan: I’m in.

  Tuck: Me too.

  Zeke: Since when did we become snowboarders?

  Tuck: Since Nana’s man drags us and his brothers to Steamboat every freaking weekend that he can.

  Nana: Sometimes he takes us to Tahoe.

  Ethan: How’s school, Z?

  Zeke: It’s all good. One more semesters and I can teach music.

  Tuck: Are we ever getting the band together?

  Ethan: I’m not ready.

  Zeke: Me neither, man. I’m still having trouble with my sobriety. My sponsor says it takes time and strength.

  Nana: Don’t count on me—or Rocco. He has a band.

  Tuck: Fucking asshole. I can’t believe he hasn’t called us.

  Nana: At least we know he’s alive.

  Tuck: I’ve known he’s alive. I keep track of him with my uncle’s software.

  Alex: Love to keep chatting, but I have a meeting and some work to do before going home. Babe, what’s the plan for this evening?

  Nana: Food and sex, not in that order. See you at home.

  Zeke: Ugh, do you have to do that? I don’t need to know about your sex life, especially when I’m not getting any. I’m celibate.

  Ethan: Still?

  Zeke: Yes, my therapist made me see that drugs isn’t love, booze isn’t love, and fucking a stranger might be fun, but the emptiness remains because it’s not love.

  Tuck: Well, I’ll check the bars tonight for empty sex. Talk to you later, assholes and Nana.

  Zeke: Where are you?

  Tuck: At home. Why?

  Zeke: Fuck!

  Tuck: What’s happening, Z?

  Zeke: I met some chick, and we ended up doing it in the back of her car. I’m craving.

  Tuck: Sex or drugs?

  Zeke: Everything.

  Tuck: Where’s everybody?

  Zeke: Ethan stayed in Europe after we went to Switzerland. Nana and Alex went to Fiji.

  Tuck: Where are you?

  Zeke: In my apartment.

  Tuck: I’m on my way. I’ll call my uncles or my grandparents. We’re here for you. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.

  Tuck: Mom, Zeke is craving. I’m in Colorado. Can you send anyone to be with him while I work to get there, please?

  Mom: We’ll be there. Have a safe flight. Thank you for reaching out.

  When I arrive at Zeke’s apartment, my grandparents are with him. Grandpa Gabe is picking up the house while Grandpa Chris is chatting with Zeke.

  “Did you have a party?” I ask, as I make my way to the kitchen and grab a glass of water.

  Zeke laughs. “No, just your family, and they brought me some dinner. Thank you for calling them, man.”

  “Thanks,” I tell my grandfathers.

  “It’s hard, Zeke, but you can do it,” Grandpa Chris says, as he rises from his seat and hugs me. “Kid, it’s
good to see you. Have you spoken to your parents?”

  “I texted Mom.”

  “Don’t play dumb, Tucker. You have to fix your shit with them. It’s like I told Zeke. Family comes first. It matters,” he explains. “Yeah, you can survive on your own, but why try to keep afloat when you have a group of people willing to help you swim and reach shore?”

  I grin and pat him. “Maybe soon, okay?”

  “Soon isn’t enough,” Grandpa Gabe tells me. “Look, I know you two are young and you can have any woman you want, but is it worth it? At least buy them dinner, get to know them first, and then, if you’re still interested, make sure to use a condom.”

  “They’re very important,” Grandpa Chris confirms. “Talk to your therapist, Zeke. This might be a sign of something deeper. Work through it. Your sponsor is right. Sex isn’t love. Maybe you have to find some middle ground. You don’t have to be in love, but don’t use it to fill a void.”

  My grandfathers make their way out of the apartment, making sure that Zeke has enough food for the week.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m better. It’s hard to be by myself sometimes. Usually I go visit Nana and Alex. They don’t mind when I’m their third wheel. Other times, I’m with Ethan, but I was bored, and she was cute … I sound like a teenager, don’t I?”

  I shake my head. No, he sounds like a lonely man who needs a friend. I understand him because, some days, I feel just like him. So I go to one of the bars close to my place to find some chick. But once it’s over, I feel … empty.

  “Maybe we need to learn to live with ourselves,” I say out loud. He frowns, as if not understanding. “Listen, since we were teenagers, we had fans yelling, ‘I love you.’ They don’t even know us, but we accepted it. It’s like we’ve fed from their fantasies, and now we’re just addicted to having a woman profess her love to feel like we matter. Still, once they’re out of our lives, we go back to feeling empty. You block that with drugs and booze, and I go and search for another woman.”

  He sighs, resting his arms on his thighs and shaking his head. “That’s so fucking deep and maybe true. Now I need to count not only the days I’m clean, but the days I don’t fuck.” He laughs, and it sounds a little manic. “I’m so fucking broken.”

  “We all are, Z,” I remind him. “How about we make a pact?”

  “I’m not marrying you if you’re still single by the time you’re forty,” he jokes.

  “Asshole, I’m a fucking prize. You wish, but no, that’s not the deal. We both stay celibate until we find someone we want to meet. Like my grandfather suggested.”

  He nods, and we shake on it. “You want to seal this with root beer? That’s all the beer I have in this house. I’m so fucking pathetic.”

  “No, you’re battling an illness, and we’re here to support you.”

  10

  Tucker

  “Pass me the pizza?” Ethan asks, his eyes glued to the screen, editing the music we just recorded.

  For one brief moment, I look around the studio and wonder if this is the start of a reunion.

  “You know what would make this perfect?” Nana asks, walking toward the piano.

  “To have a fucking bedroom in this place?” Alex complains. “It’s three o’clock in the morning. We’re stuck on the island until tomorrow, and we don’t have a bed.”

  Zeke laughs. “Why is he here?”

  “It’s the weekend, I like to spend it with my woman,” he grunts. “The fine print says I get stuck with you three too.”

  Ethan puts down the headphones and laughs. I join him.

  Tonight is a typical Friday night for us. Music. Dinner. Board games. It’s been almost a year since Zeke called me asking for help. Nana and I agreed that he needed us more than ever.

  Contacting me because he needed support showed a huge growth. In the past, he’d just hit a dealer and hide from us.

  “People used to pay lot of money to be with us,” Zeke says in a cocky tone. “You’re lucky to have us.”

  Alex walks toward the piano and sits on the stool next to Nana. “Not sure about you three, but I am lucky to have her.” He kisses her lightly. “Why don’t we build a small studio at home so you guys can hang out there—on my turf?”

  “I’d never leave your house,” Zeke informs him. “I’d be in your workshop making some piece of furniture or playing in the mini studio.”

  “How would that be any different from what you do now?” Ethan rises from his seat and takes a piece of cold pizza.

  “Just so you know, I’m leaving the country next week,” I announce, before they try to persuade me to come for the weekend.

  Don’t get me wrong, I love my friends and spending time with them is great—except, flying back and forth every weekend is stressful.

  “Where are we going?” Nana asks, smiling.

  “San Francisco, Japan, and some other countries,” I answer, wondering why I complain about flying back to Seattle when some weeks I practically live in an airplane.

  Maybe it’s because, every so often, I wonder if I should just pick up my shit and move closer to my friends. Yeah, there’s the issue with my parents. We barely speak, but I think enough time has passed that they can see I’m not a spoiled brat who needs his family to survive.

  I have a diverse investment company. We help small businesses grow, invest in ideas that I think will be profitable, and handle personal investments as well.

  The guys and I opened a non-profit since I no longer manage my parents’ charity, and it’s important to me to help others.

  Tristan has a program for homeless teenagers. The kids who apply for the program live in a building owned by the charity. It's close to a high school and university. They work for Cooperson Industries and pay their keep. Most importantly, they're safe from parents who don't understand or accept them.

  Or safe from foster care, like Zeke and Rocco.

  I look at Zeke, who had run away from his last foster home and was caught stealing at the flower shop owned by Nana’s mom. They didn’t call the authorities. They called Tristan who offered him a place to live and a home to stay in in exchange for not turning him into the police.

  “You know what I want?” I ask out loud.

  “End world hunger?” Nana responds.

  “That too, but I was thinking about the program that brought us together,” I explain. “Do you think we could start something like that?”

  “Giving back to the community sounds like a great idea,” Zeke says, shaking his head. “But I’m not there yet. I’m still having trouble with my sobriety. Maybe we can revisit your idea in a couple of years.”

  “I’m with him,” Nana agrees. “Until we’re all in a good place, we can’t help anyone. I like the idea. That program has saved lives. Tristan kept Z and Rocco safe.”

  Her words remind me of the time I almost ended up in jail. My adoptive mother was dating an asshole. He hated me and wanted me gone from their life. My adoptive father was happily married to his assistant and had a new family. I was in a bad place and consuming pot with Ethan was my only escape.

  That day, I was so high…

  I hear a voice growl. But I don't react to it until a fist connects with my jaw. Then a second one to my temple, making my entire head explode.

  Feels like everything inside is jelly, and I can't shake the dizziness. I stand up and see him.

  Mom's boyfriend. "You're not man enough to defend yourself. Are you going to call your boyfriend to do it for you?"

  He pulls me by the hair; his hot breath is so close to my face. "I knew there was something weird about you. I'll show you how to be with a real man."

  My chest constricts. Panic freezes me as he begins pushing me down to the floor, but I fight back. My reflexes are slower than usual. I'm having trouble evading his fists, and my arms aren't fast enough to get him.

  The blow on my stomach takes all the air out of my system, and I fall. His gaze on me, the satisfied grin that he’s won, is the
last thing I see before my world becomes dark.

  When I wake up, I’m in the hospital.

  My mother is freaking out, walking around the room. "How could you do this to us? Joe is threatening to press charges for assault. They're saying you'll be charged as an adult."

  He did it. Joe is the one who assaulted me. "Do you believe him, Mom?"

  My voice is quiet, filled with fear. She's only a few steps away from me, but her cold gaze makes me feel so lonely. Her eyes are empty. There's no love, no compassion.

  "You were high and attacked him," she counters, raising her voice. "He had no choice but to defend himself from you. You're taller and stronger than he is."

  Her phone rings, but she ignores it. "I knew since the beginning that you'd be trouble."

  "Because I’m her kid," I finish for her and cry because it isn't fair that she’s always blaming me and punishing me because of who my biological mother was.

  One mistake. A stupid mistake is what's going to send me to juvie—or jail. For a few moments, I forgot about my problems, my guard was down, reflexes shut down, and he took advantage of it.

  "Joe did this,” I claim. “He’s the one who attacked me. Mom, I'm your son. You should be believing me—defending me."

  The tears fall freely, and I don't care how many times my father has told me that men don't cry. I let the pain searing my insides out with every tear. Hate for a woman who never wanted me is spreading through my entire body. If only…

  A knock on the door interrupts the painful silence.

  "Ms. Callaway, can I speak to you for a few minutes?”

  "Mr. Bradley?" A tall man, who entered the room without waiting for us to let him in, is towering over her. He looks threatening. "Why are you here?"

  "We received a call that Tucker was in the hospital and under police custody," he answers in a matter of fact tone. "Our lawyers are looking into the case. They've also drawn up this temporary custody agreement. We don't think Tucker is safe under your care."