by L. G. Davis
“It wasn’t your fault. I offered, remember?”
“I should have rejected your offer right away.” I rub the sleep from my eyes. “For so long I fooled myself into thinking he’s harmless. But last night ... Last night he showed me an even darker side to him.”
Thalia gasps. “Did he threaten you with a knife as well?”
“He threatened me with more than the knife.” I drop my head back on the pillow, the palm of my hand over my glowing forehead. “He said it would be too easy to kill me, that he’d rather I suffer in life.”
Momentary silence plugs the line until Thalia breaks it. “Paige, listen to me. I think you have to do something more than just ignoring him.” She pauses. “He needs professional help.”
“I’m starting to think you’re right. I’m not just afraid for myself. I’m afraid for him. The way he had looked at me, Thalia … He really hates me.”
“What will you do? Something drastic needs to be done.”
“I think I need to make some calls. I’ll tell you later what I decide.”
As I hang up the phone, I dread getting out of bed. I hate myself for feeling like the old me. Terrified to go back there, I fight through the fog in my mind and push myself to the edge of the bed, my head in my hands. One more movement, just one more and I’d be out of this bed and on my feet again, standing up for my life, for my freedom.
I squeeze my eyes shut and get to my feet.
After splashing my face with warm water, I call Margaret and ask for the day off. Since I hardly ever ask for a day off, she grants my wish without hesitation.
“Jane will step in for you. Focus on getting well,” she says. “Do you want tomorrow off as well?”
“No. One day is enough.”
After the call, I force myself to walk out of my room.
I find Ryan in the living room, staring at the blank TV screen. When he looks at me, his face is as crumpled as his clothes.
He glances at one wall of the living room.
My fingertips touch my lips as my eyes take in the pages of paper plastered across the bottom half of the wall. Each of the six pages has three words written on it in black marker.
I am sorry.
I yank one of the papers from the wall, stare at it for a moment, then look at Ryan. “Sorry is not enough.” My voice is cracked around the edges. “After what you did yesterday, sorry is not enough.”
His chin hits his chest. “I’m hurting, Sis. You know I haven’t been myself since the shooting. Sometimes it feels as though there’s something inside me, a force that takes over and makes me do things I don’t want to do.”
“You can fight that force if you want to.” My fingers let go of the page and it flutters in slow motion to the messy floor. “Being hurtful is a choice you make every day.” I ease myself into the couch, crushing a pizza box. I’m too tired and frustrated to care. “What you did yesterday ... the things you said …” I swallow a sob. “You threatened my friend with a knife, and you threatened me.”
“It wasn’t me, the real me.” His head is still bowed. “You have to understand that this monster inside me scares me just as much as it scares you. I can’t do it alone, Sis.”
“And yet you resist any help I offer you.” I wipe a sheen of sweat from my forehead. “I’m starting to think maybe I’m not the right person to help you.”
“Please.” His head snaps up; his bloodshot eyes meet mine. “Don’t ... don’t send me away. It will destroy me. The only thing that keeps me sane is knowing I have you.”
“I don’t get it. How can you say that, when you hate me so much? You’ve made that clear way too many times. All you do is hurt me, and you enjoy it.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Paige.” He drops his head into his hands. “It’s just that ... I often get the feeling you’re pushing me away.”
“You are the one pushing me away. I’ve tried so many times to reach out to you, to help you, to share your burden, but you shrink away from me every time.”
“I don’t mean to.” The eyes that look at me now are those of the little brother I used to know and love, the one I swore to protect. What if this is his way of manipulating me?
“I love you.” I tear my gaze from his and gaze out the window at the bright morning sky. “I don’t know if you believe it, but I love you so much. If I didn’t, I would have walked away long ago.”
“I know. I’ve made life hell for you, but I’m willing to change.” He pauses. “I’ve decided to make changes in my life.” He waits for me to respond. When I don’t, he continues. “I’ll stop drinking. I’ll no longer be a burden. You don’t even have to support me financially anymore.”
“Will you get a job?” My gaze returns to him. Many times over the past months I’d come home with printouts of job adverts only to have him crumple them up and throw them in my face. It wasn’t so much that I wanted him to earn money. Most importantly, I wanted him to get out of the house, to be surrounded by other people.
“I started an online business.”
“What kind?”
He peels his gaze from mine. “That’s not important. What matters is that I make enough money to help with the expenses. Thousands of dollars.”
“You make thousands of dollars and you watch me struggling to pay our bills and Mom’s debts and say nothing?” I push down the sob rising up my throat.
“I wanted to punish you. It was cruel. Please don’t throw us away.” His bottom lip quivers. “You’re all I have.”
“I never wanted to turn my back on you, and you know that. But you attacked my friend with a knife. You cut yourself.” My gaze moves to his left hand. He’s wearing a Band-Aid around the finger he’d sliced with the knife.
“I wanted it to be just us,” he says. “We don’t need anyone else in our lives.”
“I do.” My voice is firm. “I love you, but I need other people in my life. I need a life outside these walls.”
“Are you saying I’m not enough for you?” The angry thunderclouds return to his eyes.
“I’d be lying if I said you were.” I refuse to let him intimidate or manipulate me. “Just because I need friends in my life doesn’t mean I love you any less.”
“And a boyfriend?” he asks. “You’d like one, too?”
“Why not? What’s wrong with me wanting to be in a relationship, with having someone love me?” I rake a hand through my hair. “I want to get married one day, to have children. I want a life.”
His mouth takes on an ugly twist as if he tasted something bad. “You know as well as I do that marriage sucks. You’ve seen what happened to Mom and Dad, the kind of marriage they had. They hated each other.” He turns to face the TV again. “Why would you want something like that?”
My heart shrinks a little, but I breathe new life into it. “I want to do things differently. I’ve seen what they did to each other, and it just inspires me to have a different kind of marriage.”
“You’re living in a dream, Paige. It’s time to face reality.” He shakes his head. “Don’t you see? Reality is dark, painful, and filled with nightmares. There is no heaven on earth.”
“I never said there was. But I want to be happy. I won’t apologize for it.”
“You don’t get it, do you? Happiness is for other people. Our family is cursed.” When he looks at me again, his features are cold. “Accept it.”
“I’m sorry, Ryan, but no. I won’t accept a life where I have to push my way through nightmares. I want more than this.”
“A life that doesn’t include me, right?” He turns his wheelchair to face me. The monster in his eyes is back.
“You know that’s not what I mean.” I shut my eyes and open them again. “I just know we can’t live together without hurting each other. I remind you too much of what happened to you that night. And you can’t resist punishing me.” I bury my hands in my hair. “The only solution is for you to move out. We can find you a place close by, maybe even in this building. Someone from the
first floor moved out last week. Maybe they haven’t found a new tenant yet. But before you stay alone, it might be best for you to go to—”
“Rehab?” His voice is like a sharpened sword, ready for war. “That’s not going to happen. I’m not going anywhere. If you force me, I’ll kill myself and leave you with more guilt to live with. Are you sure you can handle that?”
“I’m tired of your threats.” I push myself to my feet. “If you want to kill yourself, go ahead.” I cross my arms in front of my chest to keep my hands from shaking. “I’m giving you one month to decide what you want to do with your life. And if you threaten me again or do anything to harm me or anyone close to me, I’ll call the cops or have you committed to a place where people can make sure you don’t hurt yourself or others again. The choice is yours.”
As I step toward the door I turn, fire still blazing in my eyes. “Just so you know, this is my life and I can choose who to spend it with. If I want to date, that’s my business. If I want to get married one day, that’s my business.” My hand hovers over the door handle. “And if I want to be happy, that’s also my choice.” With that, I leave him to think about what I said.
Inside my room, I grab my phone. Dylan had called and left a message.
“Paige, how are you? You were pretty upset when you left yesterday. Please let me know if I can help in any way.”
The phone rings before I put it down. It’s him.
“Hi, Dylan.” I lower myself to the edge of the bed, my free hand clutching one of my trembling knees. “How are you?”
“The more important question is, how are you? Are things okay with your brother?”
“Not really. But I’ll get through it.” I meant every word I said to Ryan. If he doesn’t pull himself together within a month, I’m kicking him out.
“Is there anything at all I can do for you?”
“I don’t think so. I really appreciate your offer, but there’s nothing anyone can do.”
“How about lunch? I can bring it to your place. I was at the school and Margaret said you’re not coming in today. She mentioned you’re not feeling well.”
“She’s right.” I pick up a pillow and hug it to my body. “I’m sorry, but I ... I prefer to be alone today, if that’s okay.”
“Of course, it’s okay.”
“Thanks for calling, Dylan. Will you still be flying to New York today?”
“No,” he says. “As it turns out, there are quite a few issues related to my father’s estate that I need to deal with first. If you decide you want to see me, I’ll be in town for a while longer.”
“Why me?” I fall back onto the pillows, and the headache piercing my temples makes me regret the sudden movement. “There are so many other beautiful women in town, women without problems.”
“They don’t fascinate me the way you do.”
He just doesn’t quit, does he?
“I don’t want to waste your time,” I say honestly. “The truth is, I’m not in the place to date anyone right now.”
“Maybe I can change your mind. Meet up with me again one more time. We can just talk. Allow me to help you. Like I said, I haven’t known you for long, but it feels that way.”
“I like you, but there’s too much going on in my life at the moment.”
“I understand.” He pauses. “If you do change your mind about lunch or dinner, I’m a phone call away.”
“I’ll remember that,” I say with a smile.
I spend the early hours of the day in my room, sleeping, completing Sudoku puzzles, and listening to classical music, trying to get rid of the empty feeling inside me.
At midday, when thoughts of guilt threaten to break down my resistance, I grab my swimsuit and the novel Thalia had given me and head out the door.
On the apartment doorstep, I find a bag filled with takeaway cartons of Indian food. The aromas of meat and spices rise to my nose. My mouth waters.
A white handwritten note is pushed between the cartons.
Paige, since you’re unable to come to lunch, I brought lunch to you. Enjoy. Dylan.
Chapter 16
I change my mind about going to the beach and take the Indian food into the house. Too exhausted for another conversation with Ryan, I eat my Tandoori chicken and chapati on the windowsill of my bedroom window while breathing in the fresh air.
I left the rest of the food for Ryan on the kitchen counter as there were two portions of each meal.
I haven’t seen Ryan since our conversation in the morning. When I walk past the living room, I don’t spot him inside. He’s inside his room with heavy metal music making the walls shake.
I wave at Ned Porter when he takes a break from planting something in one of the flowerbeds and sees me at the window.
The food is so delicious that I find myself returning to the kitchen for more. On my way back, I stop by Ryan’s room and knock on the door. I doubt he’ll be able to hear me over the jarring sound of the music so I let myself in. Maybe he really is thinking about what I said to him earlier.
He’s in his wheelchair, facing one of his black walls. When he senses me at the door, he spins around.
“Can’t you just leave me the hell alone?” His eyes are as hard as they had been hours earlier.
“There’s food in the kitchen, if you’re hungry.” I close the door before he has a chance to respond.
Back inside my room, I call Dylan to thank him for the food. “That was awfully kind of you.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“Did you bring it by yourself or have it delivered?” For a moment I wonder how he knows where I live, then I remember he owns the building.
“I may be many things, but I’m not a stalker.” He laughs. “Even though I was tempted for a minute to drop it off myself, you need your space, and I respect that.”
“Thank you for being thoughtful.”
“I kind of have an ulterior motive.”
“I’m sure you do.” I chew a corner of my nail, nervous about what I’m about to do, what it means. “Dylan, I’ve changed my mind. I’d like to see you again.”
“Looks like my plan worked. And all it took was some delicious Indian food.” He chuckles. “I’m joking. I’m thrilled you changed your mind. Propose a day and time and I’ll be there.”
“Not today, unfortunately,” I say quickly. “I’m still not feeling well.” Even though I feel better than I did in the morning, I wouldn’t want Margaret to hear from someone that I was seen out with Dylan Baxter while on sick leave.
“How about tomorrow? If you’re well by then. We can also meet on the weekend, if you prefer.”
“That would be better for me. Saturday?” I need a few days to recover from what has transpired between Ryan and me and to prepare myself for questions Dylan might have.
“That’s perfect.” He pauses. “I look forward to seeing you again.”
“I look forward to seeing you, too, Dylan.” I find myself smiling as I speak the words.
On my way to meet up with Dylan, I stop by the living room.
Four days have passed since I gave Ryan an ultimatum, and it splinters my heart to see that he has returned to his old self.
He’s watching TV while holding a bottle of vodka in his left hand. He glares at me, his gaze drilling through me, questioning my intentions, daring me to speak to him.
“I’m going out. I might be back late. Dinner is in the oven.”
“Who are you meeting?” His mouth is set in a hard line.
I hoist the strap of my handbag onto my shoulder. “That’s my business. I’ll see you later.”
The moment I walk through the door, I release a breath.
As I step into my car, I pray that I won’t come home to a nasty surprise, another one of his warnings.
On my way to Lacey’s Place, I give Thalia a call.
“How did Ryan react when you told him you’re going on a date?”
“I didn’t tell him where I’m going. I don’t owe him
any explanation.” I pause. “My fear for him is gone. I just woke up this morning and didn’t feel terrified when I thought of facing him. The past few days were hard, but I think I’ve reached the point where I can be me and allow him to be himself.”
“I’m happy to hear that. Let’s hope life gets better for you. You really deserve to be happy.”
“So do you, Thalia.” I slow down at a red traffic light. “By the way, how’s Mr. Nice Guy?” Thalia has been seeing someone for the past two months and she keeps complaining that he’s too nice.
“Still busy being nice. It drives me nuts.”
I shake my head in confusion. “I don’t see why that’s a problem.”
“I also don’t. Kevin is perfect. He’s the kind of guy many girls would love to introduce to their mothers.” She sighs. “But I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel right for me.”
“I know what your problem is,” I say when the traffic light turns to green. “Your heart is addicted to heartbreak.”
“You could be right.” She laughs. “Last year, when Xavier broke up with me, I swore to myself I’d never date a bad boy again. But what if my heart only responds to bad boys?”
“I see only one solution here. If you don’t feel it’s right, maybe you should go your separate ways.”
“But he really likes me. You should have seen how he took care of me when I had bronchitis. He would make the perfect husband.”
“And your heart wants an imperfect man, I assume. You do know how weird that is, right?”
“Stop teasing.” she laughs. “I didn’t tell you this, but I almost broke up with him two days ago. I couldn’t go through with it. I know how it feels to have a broken heart. I don’t know how I could do that to someone else.”
“So what will you do? Will you just continue to pretend you feel the same way about him?”
“Not exactly. I’ll give him another two months ... A chance to see where things go. If anything, I’ll have eight weeks to come up with a gentle way to break his heart.”