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After All

Page 20

by Karina Halle


  “Emmett,” Alyssa finally says. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I told you, don’t be,” I tell her. “It happened. I’m sure I prepared for it in some way. I think on some level I knew the drugs would take her but I just thought everything would stay the same. When you’re a kid, even when you’re surrounded by death, you still don’t think death will come for you. But it came right to our fucking door. I remember that evening like it was yesterday…” I shake my head, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. It takes a few minutes before I can continue. “I found her. My friend Jimmy eventually found the two of us. I couldn’t leave her. He’s like a fucking father to me, that guy. And before I knew what was happening, I was shipped off to Mission to live with my aunt. A woman who showed me a fraction of the love my mother showed me.”

  Silence hangs around us. It’s not uncomfortable, it’s just heavy. Weighted. This silence is the held breath of my mother and it demands our respect. I know we both can feel it.

  After a moment I say, “I was happier before my mother died. I guess in some ways I’ve been chasing that feeling ever since, even though I know the last person I ever truly loved had left me.” I suck on my bottom lip, trying to put my feelings in the tiny neat spaces where they belong. “So that’s my truth. The son of a junkie. A boy who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. Who grew up too soon. Who stared death in the face every day and didn’t know it.” I burst out laughing but it’s a sour, bitter laugh. “I can see all those fucking headlines now, every single one of them, reducing my life, my love, into something quick and pithy enough to be devoured by the public.”

  Again, the silence. Alyssa lessens it by leaning over and putting her hand on top of mine. I can’t help but meet her eyes, gaze deeply into them, wonder how the hell I got so lucky, wonder how the hell I’d ever let go.

  “Your life is your life,” she says to me, each word sounding as if she’s handing them out with care. “No one else’s. Not a single person on this earth is entitled to your life and what you’ve gone through. Even if you’ve never gone through anything. You have every right to protect your heart and soul and family from the things that people don’t understand. And I will stand by you during every single step of the way. Contract or not, I’m here and I’m not judging and I’m not going anywhere. I’m just…yours.”

  Mine.

  Maybe not forever, maybe not for real, but for now…she’s mine.

  I manage to give her a smile. “Thank you,” I tell her. It’s more than she’ll ever know.

  Even though I know I promised her that I’d take her to the beach, to the improv, even though I planned on ravishing her bare and naked here on this bed, all of those ideas have floated out the window.

  Right now, all I want is to go back to sleep.

  With the sun streaming through the window.

  With her in my arms.

  I lift up the covers, gesturing for her to join me.

  I don’t have to say a single word.

  She gives me a sweet smile, places the tray on the floor, and then crawls across the bed until she’s settling beside me, pulling up the covers to her chin.

  “I just want to sleep for a bit more,” I tell her, stifling a yawn. “And I don’t want to do it without you.”

  She smiles again and runs her finger gently over my bare chest before she nestles herself into my arms.

  A few moments pass. I hear her breathing growing heavier, the air conditioner kick on.

  Then she says, “Emmett?”

  “Yes, sunshine?”

  A pause. I can tell she’s biting on her lip. “Is this real?”

  I close my eyes and hold her tight. “It’s always real,” I tell her.

  Then I fall asleep, wishing I could have told her more.

  Chapter 15

  Emmett

  It’s Tuesday evening. After we got back to Vancouver on Sunday night, tired to the bone, we agreed to spend Monday apart to give us both some space and get our heads on straight. After all, I had a bit of a PR disaster to try and deal with and Autumn wasn’t being much help. But Tuesday is often a special night for me–when I’m not working–and I don’t want to let this one go to waste.

  That said, I don’t tell Alyssa what I have planned until she’s sliding into the passenger seat of my car. The only thing I said to her earlier was for her to dress down.

  Of course, she totally overthought the word “down” just like she overthought “jogging” and “sailing.” She’s literally wearing a long-sleeved baseball t-shirt and overalls.

  I don’t think I’ve seen a woman wear overalls in a non-ironic way since I was in high school.

  “Alyssa,” I say carefully as I look her over, trying to hide a smile. “When you heard dress down, did you think going to pick corn at my grandpa’s farm?”

  She looks down at herself, defensive. “What? This is in. This cost forty fucking dollars at H and M!”

  “Well if it’s at H and M, then it’s got to make sense,” I say mockingly.

  She crosses her arms in a huff. “Well it would help if I knew where we were going and what we were doing.”

  “You’ll find out.”

  The truth is, I don’t want to scare her off, not until we’re at least there. I know Alyssa will probably take it all in stride, but still. She also has the tendency to build crazy ideas in her head into full-grown entities. I wanted to take her by surprise.

  But Alyssa is smart. And as soon as my car takes a right off of Cambie Street and down Hastings, she knows. No one deliberately comes here. It’s always by accident. And this is no accident.

  I pull in to a parking garage and come to a stop and it’s only then that she looks at me with soft eyes. “We’re here, aren’t we?”

  I nod. “Yup.”

  I get out and open the trunk, taking out the plastic bag full of craft service items I took from yesterday. I know the soup kitchen does a really good job with tasty and nutritious meals, but I also know it never hurts to have extra, especially food that’s portable. And yes, easy to trade, but at least the person then has a choice of whether to choose the drugs over hunger.

  Alyssa gives me a slight smile and then grabs my hand, holding it tight.

  Shit. I know she’s nervous about all of this, that it’s taking her out of her element. But the fact that she’s here with me, that she’s willing to see where I’ve come from, it means the fucking world.

  “Did you know that four people die here each day,” I tell her as we walk down the stairwell of the parking garage. It smells like piss and she’s already wrinkling up her nose. It’s only going to get worse for her going forward. “That one hundred people in BC died from drug overdoses last month? That ‘Welfare Wednesday’ this April resulted in 130 calls for overdoses just on that day alone?”

  She shakes her head. “I knew it was bad. But I didn’t think it was that bad. I’m a little ashamed to admit it but when I see this stuff on the news, I just tune it out. It feels so…hopeless.”

  “I know what you mean. I keep coming here and trying to help, volunteering, but it’s like yelling into the wind. I wish I could shake them all, show them what happened to my mom, show them who I am and that I’m an example that you can come out of this world and live but…”

  “At least you’re doing something. Most people turn a blind eye.”

  “And I don’t blame them. Because it’s hard. It’s hard to watch humanity self-destruct. The government has failed them. Our supposedly glorious health care system has waiting lists upon waiting lists for detox centers and rehabs, turning away people who actually want to get clean. There’s no place for these people to go, no way to get help. It’s a circle of death that never ends. Hell. There are even teams of Good Samaritans on the streets right now, finding those who have overdosed and saving them when health care workers can’t.”

  I know I shouldn’t sound so morbid about the whole thing but when we exit the garage and out onto the street, the depravity hits us tenfold.
/>   Just like every time, it’s like walking onto the set of a zombie film where the special effects are terrifyingly real. People are scattered everywhere, camped out against the buildings, wandering across the street and nearly getting hit by cars and buses. Some ask for money, some try and sell stolen goods, most just talk to themselves when they’re not talking to each other. Every single soul here in need of help.

  I feel a lump forming in my throat, a debilitating sadness that cancels out all the fear. There’s so much I should be able to do and what I can won’t go far.

  I stop there in the middle of the sidewalk and wonder what’s even the point.

  But then Alyssa squeezes my hand, looks up at me with gentle determination and then starts handing out the food to the people.

  I watch her for a few moments, humbled and awestruck by the sight of her being so kind, so compassionate, so brave as she meets and tries to talk to each and every poor soul she comes across. It’s not an easy thing to do. The majority of them light up when they see her, even if she doesn’t represent drugs, even if hunger is the last thing on their mind.

  I know how they feel. That’s what she does to me.

  She lights me up inside, puts the sun in my sky.

  Fuck.

  I might be completely in love with her.

  No.

  Not might.

  I am completely in love with her.

  No doubts, no performances, no lies.

  Just truth.

  I blink at her there, standing on the darkened street, surrounded by the hopeless and yet now I’m brimming with love and hope from the inside out.

  After she hands an energy bar to an old woman, Alyssa straightens up and looks over at me questioningly. I can tell she’s still nervous about this whole thing, but she’s doing it anyway. And I know she really doesn’t want to do it alone.

  You don’t ever have to be alone again.

  I nod at her, my smile spreading to an outright grin that probably seems horribly out of place.

  Then I snap out of it and go to her side.

  Together we walk up the street, handing out food until our bags are almost empty.

  Then I take her hand, warm and small in mine, and lead her into the building.

  “This is where I grew up,” I tell her as we go up the stairs.

  I take her all the way to the top floor and nod at the closed door down the hall. “That’s where I was raised. And this is where Jimmy is.”

  I knock on his door. It’s closed for once. And again, I feel that rush of trepidation, that I’m going to find something awful behind that door and I’m going to find it with Alyssa by my side.

  I almost start to shield her but then the door opens and Jimmy is on the other side.

  “Tetty!” he says with his gap-toothed smile. Then he looks at Alyssa in surprise. “And who might you be?”

  “Jimmy, this is my girlfriend Alyssa,” I tell him proudly. It doesn’t feel like a lie anymore, even if I’m the only one who thinks it.

  Jimmy gives her a charming smile. I have to say, I was hoping he wouldn’t be like he was the last time I saw him and to my surprise, he looks great. He’s clean-shaven, his thinning hair is slicked back and his eyes look bright. He’s also wearing his uniform from the soup kitchen where he’s supposed to be working tonight and where I usually volunteer on Tuesdays.

  “Pleased to meet you, truly I am,” Jimmy says, enthusiastically shaking Alyssa’s hand. He grins at me, his cheeks growing pink. “Boy, Tetty. You really found the prettiest girl in the whole city. I am so happy for you. So happy to see you with someone. I was starting to worry about you, you know?”

  “I was starting to worry too,” I admit with a sheepish grin. “Anyway, I thought we’d all go down to the soup kitchen together.”

  “Sure, sure, I was just about to leave,” he says, looking back in the apartment as if looking for something.

  I hand him my plastic bag. “First, some food for later.”

  “Thanks, thanks Tetty,” he says, lifting up the bag in reverence before taking it inside and putting it on the kitchen counter.

  As he does so, Alyssa turns to me. “He’s adorable,” she says, briefly leaning into my arm. “Thank you for bringing me to meet him.”

  Fuck. She’s starting to unravel me, thread by thread.

  I swallow and put my arm around her, holding her tight.

  “Okay, let’s go. Whoa. Look at you lovebirds,” Jimmy says, closing the door behind him and locking it. “Boy, I remember what it was like to be in love.”

  Alyssa stiffens at that but I don’t loosen my grip. I know what she’s thinking, I know things are getting complicated, the edges are blurring, the lines are being crossed. But maybe she’ll see the beauty in the change.

  Or maybe she just wants her money. Maybe what you feel for her will in no way be returned. She thinks you’re a cad, remember. A player. Someone like her daddy. Someone who will hurt her.

  And you told her you would.

  “You okay, Tetty?” Jimmy asks me.

  I blink at him in surprise. “Oh, yes. Good. Let’s go.”

  The three of us leave and walk the two blocks over to the soup kitchen. Even though I’ve been there enough, Jimmy introduces Alyssa to everyone there and everyone seems charmed by her, especially as she starts working alongside them, dishing out meals for the hungry. For being such a sassy, prickly woman at times, when that soft side comes out, it makes everybody melt. We’re the lucky ones who see that side of her. It’s why when I thought about bringing her here, showing her this part of my life, this part of my history, every ugly bit, that I knew she wouldn’t balk, wouldn’t run. She would be bold and brave enough to take it all on and do so with grace and compassion.

  It also makes me realize why she’s maybe been so unlucky in love. I have no doubt that every man that lays eyes on her thinks she’s beautiful and, fuck, yes, undeniably sexy. I mean, that’s one of the first things I noticed, other than her breasts of course. Her sexual confidence and strength. But there’s something about that, and being an honest, strong-willed woman, that scares men off. It intimidates them. They want the woman that needs them. The truth is, we all need someone, including Alyssa, but some people require a little more than just scratching the surface.

  I was determined from the start to peel back her layers, to slip beneath her armor. To discover the secret softness underneath, the places she keeps hidden.

  I feel like I’m so fucking close.

  It’s in front of me, all within reach.

  Now it’s just a matter of her letting me in.

  Something tells me it’s not going to be easy to help her see past the lie.

  But I’m willing to give it all I’ve got.

  When we’ve put in a good few hours at the soup kitchen and it starts to close up for the night, I’m fully prepared to take Alyssa straight to her place.

  But as we get in the car and leave the mean streets of downtown behind, she turns to me and says, “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

  I look at her in surprise, utter happiness fluttering through me. “No? Stay over at my place.”

  “That’s okay?”

  “It’s better than okay, sunshine,” I tell her. “I don’t want to be alone either.”

  There’s something about the reality and rawness that we witnessed today that makes me want to hold onto her even tighter. It makes me appreciate just how wild and real she is, that she’s the fire in my life, the one that makes my heart beat. I want to bury myself deep inside her and never let go, let her light wash over all my darkness, let it dissolve my past. Alyssa is my sun, pure golden warmth that leaves only love behind.

  My love for her.

  Fuck, I’m in too deep.

  But I don’t care.

  We get to my place and we’re practically tearing each other’s clothes off as we stumble through the courtyard. Once inside we move to the bedroom, articles being discarded to the floor, our mouths clashing against each ot
her, lips, tongue, teeth. It’s messy, it’s urgent, it’s a life force.

  I push her down onto my bed, staring at her gorgeous body, the sly look in her eyes as I stand at the edge of the bed with my cock jutting out, already stiff as a board.

  Her eyes widen as I knew they would. She loves my cock and I love her for it.

  Her mouth parts sweetly and she turns around on her knees, shuffling to the edge. Her hands grab the back of my thighs, her nails digging in, and she stares up at me with burning eyes.

  She doesn’t break eye contact with me—I’m starting to think she gets off by watching me get off. I’ve been with my fair share of women, but none of them were as brazen as she is, not even close. It gets under my skin like nothing else.

  Lucky, lucky, lucky.

  She takes me in her mouth, working me softly, sweetly, but oh so fucking wild. I close my eyes and throw my head back, both wanting her to continue and wanting her to stop.

  When I’m close to coming, I pull back, breathless. She stares at me, soulful, yearning, her perfect mouth open and glistening, practically begging for my cum.

  I lick my lips and grab her by the arms, wanting her to feel my fire, feel just what she does to me, how mad with lust and desire she makes me feel. I pull her to me and kiss her urgently as the need, the lust, the want comes pouring out. I might just devour her right here. Everything she offers up is so beautiful and real and pure, but it’s never enough. I don’t just want to touch her and be with her, I want to fuse with her. Especially tonight of all nights. I want to sink inside her so deeply that she’ll feel bereft without me there. I want to be everything to her, the way that she’s become to me. I want her to feel that she’ll never be alone when I’m around.

  She’s kissing me back, wild and untamed. She’s clawing at me now, nails on my back, and I’m gripping her so hard I feel I might break her.

 

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