by Elle Lewis
Now the dawn quickly chased away the darkness. The day ignited fire underneath the clouds, creating a brilliant flame of sunlight. For the first time in so long, I felt a shred of peace. The smallest notion of hope hummed within my heart. Maybe I won’t die.
As I looked over the water, I thought about the path that led me here. The situation with my parents was extremely painful, a constant thorn in my side. But, can’t I build a life for myself that extended beyond the pain? I would always be broken. But broken things could mend and transform into something beautiful. I wanted to live and see a new possibility unfold. The only chance I had of surviving rested in the hands of the golden warrior, with the hope that he was in fact good and could prevent Darrow from getting ahold of me.
A sudden cold breeze rippled the surface of the water and snapped the sails. Despite the blankets, I shivered.
“Come here,” James said.
I scooted my chair closer to him and he put his arm around me, drawing me close. “How are you still cold with all of these blankets around you?”
“It’s cold here,” I said.
“I’m guessing that you aren’t from Alaska?” he asked, sarcastically.
I smirked. “Definitely not. Los Angeles.”
James stayed quiet, giving me the opportunity to either continue talking, or keep quiet. He gave me a soft kiss on the forehead and then returned his gaze to the water.
“My Father is Damien Stolar… he is kind of a big wig. He owns a Fortune 500 company based in New York City. He built the company from nothing. A real entrepreneur,” I said dryly. “But, before he became successful, he met my mom in New York City. She moved there when she was eighteen, from Russia.”
“Your mom is Russian?” he said.
“Yes. Katerina Anosov. She still has an extremely thick accent.”
“Can you speak Russian?” James asked.
“A little. I can understand most of it, but I’m not really good at keeping up an entire conversation.”
“How did you end up in Los Angeles?” asked James.
“After my parents were married, my mother wanted to move there. She had this dream of living a glamorous American life. Hollywood, Beverly Hills, Rodeo Drive, a Mercedes. I don’t know what her life in Russia had been like. She never talked about it. But I’m assuming it wasn’t good and she wanted something opposite. I guess Los Angeles was it. My Dad was crazy about her. Even though his business was based in New York, he bought her a big house in Malibu, right on the beach. He had to travel a lot, back and forth but…” I shrugged. “It worked for them.”
James’s eyes fixed intently on my face as he listened. I started to feel pain constrict around my heart as I talked about my mother, but I kept going. “She um…called me her star. As if I was the leading actress in the movie of her life. I grew up on the water; woke up to the sound of waves every day. Palm trees. Hot sun. My mother loved to spend whole days on the beach, wearing gorgeous bathing suits and big sunglasses…we would chase the waves.”
An image of her flashed in my mind—running along the edge of the water, the sunlight glinting off her pale blonde hair, her red lips curved in a smile. “She loved to take me shopping; everything was always designer, beautiful, expensive. She taught me about fashion. To this day, I still love it. Mostly because it reminds me of her. Or at least, the good times, before everything changed.”
I paused, chewing on my bottom lip.
James entwined his fingers with mine, rubbing his thumb along the back of my hand. “What happened? Why did you leave?”
I swallowed hard. “As I got older, she started going out more. My dad worked so much, always traveling. There were times that I didn’t see him for months. My mom started going to parties in Hollywood and Beverly Hills. People loved her. She was beautiful, exotic, charming. They loved her for all the same reasons that I did. Eventually, she became part of the high end social circles in L.A., going to events with actors and actresses, directors. The dresses she would wear were spectacular. At first, I thought it was great and my mom was like Marylyn Monroe. But it spun out of control. Some nights, she would stumble in at dawn. I would always wait up for her, forcing myself to stay awake until she came home. And then it became obvious that she was not only drinking when she was out. It started with pills, Oxycodone, Xanax, Percocet. But it escalated. When I was sixteen, I found cocaine in her bathroom. God knows what else she was doing—things that I didn’t see. And the alcohol; she could breeze through an entire bottle of vodka in like two days.”
My throat tightened but the words continued to flow. “I confronted her. I tried to talk to my dad. He wrote it off, said I was too young to understand and that there was nothing wrong with her. To this day I don’t know if he doesn’t give a shit, or if he can’t admit to himself that she has a problem. Either way, he was never around and I had to deal with it. Her personality changed. She often became despondent and depressed, sleeping late into the afternoon. A lot of highs and lows. She lost weight. She stopped going to the beach. It was like living with a completely different person.”
“What about your other family?” James asked.
“My mother’s family is in Russia. I never knew them and had no idea how to get in touch with them. My father is an only child, his parents died when I was little. My mother and father are the only family I have.”
James nodded.
“The more I thought about it, the more I felt like she was trying to quell her demons. Whatever she left in Russia followed her and it was only a matter of time before she couldn’t deal and took things into her own hands.” I took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I went to school but kept to myself. No matter what I was doing, where I was, I knew my mom was probably fucked up somewhere. It ate away at me. I felt helpless. There was nothing I could do. I tried to get her to stop…I cried and pleaded with her, begged her to get help. Things would get better for a little bit, but she would always fall back into it. The very few friends that I had in L.A. knew what was going on, and they offered to let me stay with them. But I was always afraid that if I was gone for too long, I would come home to find her dead, having overdosed on something. After I turned eighteen and graduated high school, I didn’t know what to do. Part of me wanted to leave because I couldn’t handle it anymore. I applied to a few colleges on the East Coast, but my father refused to support that decision financially. He insisted that I attend college in California, close to my mom. I think he knew that if I took off, she would fall over the edge.” Anger towards my dad flared inside of me, making my voice hard. “I was at a standstill, unsure what to do. I roamed around L.A. that summer, chilling with friends, hanging out by the beach—but I always came home every night to check on her. And then my mom made the decision easy for me. One night, just a few days before my nineteenth birthday, she was messed up on something. And… she absolutely lost it.”
I looked down, unable to meet his eyes. “She started hitting me. She was out of her mind, out of control…just crazy. We were in the kitchen. It was like something from a horror movie, watching someone suddenly become possessed. She pulled my hair, kicked me. I eventually ended up on the kitchen floor, curled into a ball. I didn’t fight back. I couldn’t raise a hand against my own mother. So, I took it. She beat the shit out me that night and I don’t even think she remembers doing it.”
“Holy shit, Sloan,” James said. “I’m so sorry.”
I gritted my teeth as the pain and horror from that night washed over me. I held back tears. “My dad has a safe in the house. A few years ago, my mom gave me the combination in case of an emergency. He keeps a lot of things in there…a gun, valuable jewelry, and several stacks of cash. After my mom passed out that night, I opened it, took a ton of his money, packed some clothes and left. I took a cab to t
he closest greyhound station. It was after midnight, and the next bus leaving was for Seattle. I bought a ticket and have been here ever since.”
James sighed deeply and ran his fingers through his hair. He shook his head, the muscles in his jaw clenching.
“My father has the ability to find me. He may even know where I am, but, he hasn’t contacted me. I thought he would be furious that I had taken money from him. But maybe he sees it as a justifiable payment for the years I took care of my mother while he was making millions. I don’t fucking know. My mom tracked me down though. She called me a few days ago.”
“When?” asked James.
“Monday night. Of course, she was high.” My voice broke and I couldn’t sit still any longer. I walked to the front of the boat and grabbed the rails. I looked at the mountains, trying to recapture some of the calm that I felt earlier but unable to. The sun shone brightly in the sky, but the warm rays couldn’t penetrate the cold that now filled my core.
James gently grabbed my arm and turned me around. As soon as I faced him, he wrapped both of his arms around me and pulled me close. I began to tremble. He tightened his arms around me, “Everything is okay. I’ve got you.” His voice cascaded over me, and I clung to him.
“I abandoned her,” I whispered. “If something happens to her, it will be my fault. Because I left. I wasn’t strong enough to deal with it.”
“Sloan, you had every right to leave,” he said, softly. “Your mother made those choices, and whatever happens is a result of her decisions. It’s not your fault; if anything, she abandoned you.” He pulled away and lifted my chin so that I could look into his eyes. “You did what you needed to do for yourself. And it was brave.”
My lips quivered, and tears sprang into my eyes. “I ran.”
“No, you started over. Why can’t you find happiness? Where is it written that you have to live in pain, in a home filled with violence?” He shook his head, “We all have the capability to change our circumstances. To change our stars. That shows real strength. Grit. To simply accept a shitty life, now that would be the easy road. You are strong. Beautiful. Getting yourself out of there was the right thing to do.”
I nodded. Comforted by his words I stayed silent, attempting to get a handle on my emotions. Once I had myself under control, I looked up, “Thank you.”
He smiled. “You’re extremely welcome. Although, I think I am a little biased in all of this.”
“What do you mean?”
“That greyhound bus ticket brought you to me,” James said. He lowered his head and kissed me ardently.
I melted into him. In that moment, my heart recognized his and I felt free.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ALLIGATORS AND FABRIC SOFTNER
James prepared a breakfast of potatoes, eggs, and fresh espresso. We ate side by side on two bar stools that were placed in front of the kitchen island.
“This espresso is good. Like, really good,” I said.
He grinned. “I order it online.”
My eyebrows rose. “Wow. You’re an official coffee snob. Do you have a subscription service?”
His smile widened.
“You do!”
He laughed. “You caught me. But now that you have tasted it, you understand. This is a necessity. Not a luxury.”
I smirked. “It is pretty great.”
“Yeah it is.” He took a sip from his cup and then set it down. “So, what now?”
“I should probably head home,” I said.
“Are you sure?”
I studied him for a few minutes. It was so damn tempting to stay with him for the rest of the day. Apart of me really wanted to. Badly. But old habits die hard. I craved a little solitude, to decompress and process everything that had occurred between us.
“No, I’m not sure. But…you must be tired,” I responded.
He shrugged. “I am. We could get some sleep. I’ll take the couch, you can have the bed.”
“I don’t want to sleep.”
“I know, but you can’t stay awake forever. Wouldn’t it be better if you slept here? I can even wake you, if you need me to. Besides, you really shouldn’t drive, as tired as you are.”
I sighed. “You make a very compelling argument.”
“But?”
“But…”
“You want some time to yourself,” he filled in.
“Yes.”
He stroked the side of my face. “I get it. And I like that about you. I’m just…worried about you. And I like having you here.”
“I like being here.”
He smiled. “Good.”
“What are you doing tomorrow? I have a Halloween party that I’m supposed to go to. Its Donovan’s twenty-third birthday. Any chance you want to come with me?”
“What time?”
“Nine,” I said.
“I’ll pick you up. Will you call me if you need anything?”
“I will,” I answered.
He exhaled. “Alright then. I’ll walk you out.”
It was nearly 10a.m. We had both been up for over twenty-four hours. James opened the door for me and I climbed in.
He frowned. “Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”
“I’m fine, I promise.”
Despite my assurances, he still looked concerned. James leaned in and kissed me, long and hard. God this man can kiss. I threaded my hands through his hair and pulled him closer, sliding my tongue across his again and again. He pulled away sooner than I wanted.
“Bye, Sloan.”
“Are you trying to seduce me into staying?”
He smiled. “It was worth a try. Did it work?”
I smirked. “Almost. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He grinned and shut the door, watching as I backed out of the driveway. I turned on the radio, needing the noise to keep my weariness at bay.
*
As soon as I got home I took a hot shower. It felt incredible after sitting in the cold for hours. I soon began to feel the effects of staying awake for so long. Exhaustion tugged at every inch of my body. Determined not to sleep, I decided to stay busy. I got dressed in faded jeans and a t-shirt, and then blow dried my hair until it fell in soft waves down my back. I planned to do laundry and then stop at the grocery store. They were mundane tasks. Ones that seemed silly in the light of what was going on. But, I could not allow myself to fall asleep.
It was a clear October day, a brisk fifty degrees, with only a few clouds in the sky. Orange and red leaves poked through the usually dense green foliage. My cherry tree was quickly losing its colorful pink blossoms. I went to Starbucks first and ordered a venti latte with an extra espresso shot, and then drove to the laundromat.
As my clothes tumbled in the washing machine, I sipped on the latte and perused through the magazines that were spread out on a little table next to the waiting area. I usually dreaded doing laundry but today the routine task was oddly comforting. The sounds and smells were familiar. I flipped through the pages of the magazine contently listening to dryers humming as the scent fabric softener permeated the air. It was so warm in here. So—comfortably—warm.
Darrow’s hand lashed out, gripping my neck with crushing strength. We were in the hallway with the broken bathroom, the faded light flickering sinisterly against the faded green wallpaper. He snarled in frustration, throwing me to the floor. I got up and began walking backwards, not wanting to take my eyes from him.
He followed, his enormous obsidian wings folded behind his back. “Did you think you could hide, Sloan?”
My
back bumped into the broken sink. There was nowhere to go. Darrow moved closer, his body humming with promised violence. A sudden movement to my left drew my eyes away from Darrow. My mouth dropped open in shock. An alligator curled at the bottom of the rusted tub, its tail whipping back and forth violently. It opened its jaws, reveling rows of sharp white teeth. It hissed at me.
“Gah!” I woke with a start.
A short elderly woman stood next to me, the thick lenses in her glasses magnifying her eyes. She withdrew her hand, which had just been on my shoulder. “Are you alright, young lady?”
“Y-Yes,” I stammered. “I’m sorry, I fell asleep.”
“Sounded like a bad dream.” She went back to her pile of laundry.
I slapped my cheeks a few times and paced the laundromat until my clothes finished.
I took my time at the grocery store, drawing it out. The pain on my left side burned steadily as always, a constant thrum of heat. I pursued each isle, reading ingredients and sodium contents, picking things I normally did not buy. After an hour, I had combed through the entire store, with more than enough food for myself. Food that I most likely would not get the chance to eat.
I put the groceries away as soon as I got home, as well as my clothes. Still determined to evade sleep, I put on some music, Drink the Sea by The Glitch Mob. I listened to the dynamic electronic music and spent the next few hours cleaning my little house from top to bottom. I even organized the garage. Sleep bad, awake good. With everything that I did, an echo existed in my mind, a morbid reminder that this may be the last time I would do any of it.
My stomach grumbled. I started dinner, again taking my time, drawing out the process. I ate and cleaned the dishes. Now what? I grabbed my cell phone and sat down on the couch. I thought about calling James but decided not to. I didn’t want to wake him. After such as long night, at least one of us should get some rest.
Instead, I turned on the T.V. and flipped through the channels. Die Hard was on. Yes! No one can fall asleep during Die Hard. I turned up the volume and settled in. Within a matter of minutes, I was sound asleep.