“Layla?” Her is voice high and frantic.
“Yes,” I manage to choke out.
There’s a heavy pause over the line and I close my eyes, I don’t want to hear.
Not again.
Her voice cracks. “It’s Michael…he’s in…” She trails off and starts crying.
I sag against the wall as the panic rushes over me.
No. No. No. No. I can’t do this, not again.
This cannot be happening.
Ruby grabs my arm, her expression as stricken as I feel. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. The memories of John, lying in that alley, blood seeping over the sidewalk, consume me. The whole nightmarish scene rushes through me until I can hear nothing but the sounds of my sobs, both echoes from the past and brand new.
A male voice comes over the line. “Layla, this is Leo. It’s Michael. He’s been shot.”
The phone drops from my hand and I hear the crack of glass on pavement.
And then, everything goes black, and I’m once again a shell.
I sit on the hard chair, my head resting against the wall, as Ruby’s hand clutches mine. I don’t have any memory of how Ruby got me to the hospital where Michael is already in surgery. I only know my worst nightmares have come true.
Ruby squeezes my fingers and when she speaks, her voice is filled with fear. “He’s going to be okay, Layla. The bullet didn’t hit any major organs or arteries. They’re going to remove it and he’ll be okay. I promise.”
She keeps saying this to me. As does Michael’s sisters, parents, and Leo as they watch me with wary, tearstained faces.
I hear them. They might even be telling the truth. But I can’t respond.
I can’t do anything but stare into the too bright, neon lights flickering overhead. Inside I’m screaming, ranting and crying and cursing the heavens, but I can’t speak. The words will not take shape. So I sit here, numb, waiting for my life to end.
I cannot do this. Not again. It’s too much for a person to bear.
Life can’t be this cruel. But I already know that’s a lie. Life can, and is, that cruel. I’d started to believe, if only in the deep corners of my mind, that happiness could once again be part of my life.
I was wrong.
As if sensing the darkness of my thoughts, Ruby squeezes my hand again, hard enough for me to flinch, even though I remain motionless. “Layla, he’s going to be okay. Do you hear me?”
This time.
Michael might pull through this tonight, but what about the next time? Or the time after that? What will happen to this homicide detective of mine whom I love more than life itself?
Stupidly, I’ve put his dangerous job out of my mind. How could I have made such a terrible mistake? After John, I should have learned my lesson. My jaw clenches even as my hand lays limp in Ruby’s. I know why. Because, I’m selfish. His job made me feel safe and I ignored the rest. I’d focused on how that gun he wore strapped to his body protected me. He’s so big and strong; he’s invincible in my eyes.
How could I have forgotten, even for a second, how fragile life is?
I swallow, my throat so tight it aches. I didn’t want to let him go. Now I’m paying the price.
I’m cursed. Destined to have the men I can’t live without, die.
I stare off into space, reliving all the awful memories of that night in the alley. This must be my punishment for my culpability of that night. That’s all I can think. The only thing that makes any sense.
In vivid Technicolor, an image of John, lying lifeless, his head on my lap, fills my mind. But when I look down, it’s Michael I see, eyes sightless and blank.
I repress the urge to start screaming. I can’t, if I do, I’ll never stop.
Michael’s family is sitting across from me. When I’d walked in they all crowded around me, hugging me as they cried, too distressed to notice my lack of response. They’d made room for me next to his mom, but I removed myself from their warmth to stand apart.
“He’s going to be okay,” Ruby says again, her tone laced with concern.
This time.
Or maybe not. What if something goes wrong in surgery? Or what if the damage is more extensive than they thought? He could have an allergic reaction to the anesthesia. There are a million things that can happen that will take him away from me. I glance out at the dark night, visible through the sliding glass doors of the hospital.
There are a million things that can happen to him out there.
It’s just a matter of time before he’s taken away from you. If not tonight, then another.
I can feel Ruby’s gaze on me, the weight of her worry and fear for me. I know I’m scaring her, and I want to reassure her, but I can’t. All my energy is spent on not collapsing into a heap on the floor.
I have no idea how long I sit like that, in the cold, overly bright florescent lights, while endless minutes tick by and we wait for word that Michael is out of surgery. But I remain still as a statue, lost to anything but the dark, dangerous thoughts in my head.
A hand falls on my shoulder and I jerk back, my head snapping up.
It’s April, her skin too pale, her eyes too bright, her mouth pinched.
She looked exactly the same way when she rushed to see me when I was in the hospital that other night when my world collapsed. Only then, I was the one lying in a bed, bruised and bloodied, broken.
This is worse. Much, much worse.
Everything inside me implodes.
I break into hysterical sobs. April starts to cry too, and bends down, gathering me up to hold me close. I bury my face in her hair as the tears finally get the better of me and she holds me through the shaking. I squeeze my eyes shut, and let her hold me as the storm rages. I feel for her, my sister, whose greatest unhappiness comes from me. My tragedies. My despair.
She’s sunshine and innocence to my darkness.
She strokes my back and whispers nonsense, assuring me that everything is going to be okay.
It’s a lie. Nothing will ever be okay again.
I can feel them all watching me and through some inner reserve, I force myself to calm down, but I can’t seem to attain that level of zoned-out numbness. Now I’m all raw emotions, straining at the seams, needing to be unleashed.
April sits down beside me, and takes my other hand, just like Ruby.
We wait.
Finally, after what seems like a million years, the doctor comes out. He faces us, collectively, that impassive expression medical people seem to wear, affixed to his bland face.
I hold my breath, waiting for him to tell me Michael has died. Just like John.
He consults his chart, and then addresses us. “The damage was a bit more extensive than we thought, but he’s going to pull through.” He goes on to explain the bullet placement and the shards they needed to pull from Michael’s strong body. “He’s in the ISU and hasn’t woken up yet, but as a soon as he does, we’ll let you know. He can only have one visitor at a time until he comes out of recovery and is moved to a regular floor. But he’s going to be okay.”
There is a collective sigh of relief that everyone feels but me.
He’s going to be okay. They’re all saying it. All hugging each other, with relieved smiles I can’t share. Maybe he’ll be okay today, but what about the next time? And the time after that?
While Michael has been careful not to push me, I know he wants a future. He’s never denied that. Our life stretches out in front of me. The fear I’ll experience every time he goes to work. The worry that will sit in my stomach like a rock when he gets called to a scene in the middle of the night. The endless hours I’ll endure, waiting for the call. The one that will someday come and tell me he’s dead. Murdered. Like John.
I can’t take it. I can’t go through this again.
I speak for the first time, my voice too loud amongst all the relief. “I have to get out of here.”
They all turn and stare at me.
With a furrowed
brow, April releases my hand to stroke my hair. “Honey, did you hear what the doctor said? Michael is going to be fine.”
I rip away from April and Ruby, jerking up from the chair. I ball my hands into fists, fighting the tide of panic threatening to consume me. I feel wild and out control, at the very edge of my sanity.
“I can’t be here,” I say, my tone shrill.
Michael’s parents frown, and I can see by their puzzled faces they have no idea of my past. That Michael has shielded them from the ugliness that lives inside me.
They’ll hate me after this. I blink back tears, remembering sitting next to Michael’s mom on her couch, looking at her family photos. She won’t remember that. No, she’ll only remember how I deserted her only son in his hour of need. I’m driving the first nail into the coffin of my relationship with Michael. I swallow hard.
Michael’s father clears his throat. “He’ll want to see you when he wakes up.”
I start to shake, uncontrollably and my teeth start to chatter. “I’m sorry. I need to leave.”
His mother opens her mouth, but Jillian covers her hand and shakes her head, before turning to me. I can see it written in her face, the truth of my past. “It’s okay. Leo, can you take them home?”
“No, I’m fine.” I can’t stand to be around them one more second.
April worries her bottom lip, and takes both my hands. My fingers feel ice cold in hers. “Layla, are you sure about this? Michael is going to be fine. Don’t you want to see him?”
More than my next breath. I pull away from her and wrap my coat tight around me. “I want to go home.”
I see April exchange a worried glance with Ruby who’s standing behind me.
“I’m leaving,” I shriek and turn away from all of them. Don’t they understand? I can’t be here. I can’t be with Michael. I’m not strong.
I need to walk away. It’s the only way.
Leo takes my elbow and looks down at me, brown eyes narrowed. “I’ll take you.”
April shakes her head. “No, I’ll take her. I don’t want her to be alone.”
“I’ll go too,” Ruby says.
Leo’s jaw hardens, as though he’s about to protest, but then he nods. “All right.”
I glance toward the sliding doors, and all the sudden, I remember Belle, the mangy dog that now feels like mine. I give Leo a pleading look. “Belle.”
He nods. “I’ll take care of her.”
No! She’s mine. I need her. The words a scream in my head but I say nothing. My nails dig into my skin. She doesn’t belong to me.
“Please, she’ll be scared,” I say, and my voice breaks.
Leo’s brow furrows and a muscle ticks at his temple. “We’ll make sure she’s taken care of.”
Them. Not me.
It’s wrong, but I don’t know how to stop the series of events. And in the end, I’m a coward. I can’t do this. I can’t stay and go through this torture over and over again.
I can’t live every day waiting for a call that will tell me Michael is dead.
April curls her hand around my elbow and says softly, “Are you ready?”
Michael’s mom stares at me, incredulity written across her tearstained features. “What should I tell him?”
This is it. Leaving right now will sever us. I will be cut off, cold turkey. I swallow down my despair. “Tell him I couldn’t do it. He’ll know why.”
Her expression twists and I know what she’s thinking. How can I be so cruel? Her son is lying in a hospital bed after being shot, and I refuse to see him. I must be a monster. And, perhaps, I am. Maybe that night in the alley changed me too irrevocably to ever recover.
More than anything, I want to explain, but I can’t. I don’t want her understanding and sympathy. I need her to hate me. To be happy I’m gone.
I turn away, before I can do anything stupid like beg for forgiveness. The only thing that makes my feet move toward the door is the knowledge that my actions will not surprise Michael.
Something tells me this is exactly what he’d expect.
It’s the only peace I have as my dreams for a happily ever after, once again, die a slow, painful death.
They won’t stop talking. Ruby and April tag team me, taking turns speaking and trying to reason with me. I have no idea what they are saying. I can only stare into space, numb as they spew streams of words that make no sense to me.
I shift on the couch, clutching my Kleenex, eyes swollen, throat raw. I’ve changed into yoga pants, and an old T-shirt of John’s but it’s Michael’s touch I feel on my skin. My condo is as cold and abandoned as I feel, and sitting here, it no longer feels like my life. I don’t want to be here. I want to be with Michael.
I miss him already. It’s a near desperate ache that sits heavy in my chest.
I wish I was strong. Wish I could go back to the hospital. I want to put all this behind me and forget it ever happened. To focus on the fact that he’ll be okay. That he’ll recover. Survive. It would be so easy to pretend this will never happen again. That he’ll be safe from danger.
But it’s a lie.
It will happen again. Michael is a homicide detective. He deals with death and violence on a daily basis. It’s just a matter of time before he’s killed. Shot dead in the line of duty and I’m once again standing over another grave.
I can’t do it.
It’s too much. I can’t survive another loss.
April and Ruby are still talking and I look at them, my hand clenched tight. “Please stop.”
April frowns. “What can we do to help, Layla?”
Ruby says, “Do you want to go back to Michael?”
Yes. I press my fingertips to my temples. “Stop talking. Please, I just need you to stop.” I need to escape. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
Before they can speak, I stand up and race down the hall, slamming the door to the bathroom and locking the door. I slide down the wall, falling to the cold, tile floor.
I don’t want to be here. I can’t stand it here. It’s lonely. Filled with grief and despair, fresh and new again. Unbearable in its crushing weight. A violent rage sweeps through me. I want to scream. Throw things. Break the mirror with my bare hands. Trash the place. But I can’t do that. Not while Ruby and April sit in my living room, worried and fretful. I’ll scare them.
Instead, I curl into a ball on the floor, and cry.
I cry for Michael. For John. And lastly, I cry for myself. I was wrong. I dared to hope, and I was so, so wrong.
Deep, wrenching sobs shake my body until finally there is nothing left.
I have no idea how long I stay like that, but there’s a knock on the door. April’s voice quickly follows. “Layla, are you okay?”
No, I am not okay. I want to scream at her to go away. To leave me alone, but I don’t. I scrub my hands over my face. “I’ll be right out.”
I get up off the floor and dry my tears with a towel before looking into the mirror. I look as horrible as I feel. I need quiet. And Belle.
The dog slips into my mind and it suddenly becomes a frantic, panicked notion that will not let me rest. I need her and she needs me. I need to bury my face in her shaggy fur. I need her head on my lap. Her comfort. Michael would want her with me.
Rescuing her from Michael’s gives me something to do while I wait for the cold numbness I’m so familiar with to reclaim me once again.
I rush out of the bathroom and into my living room where April and Ruby are huddled together, talking in whispered tones.
They look up at me. Ruby’s brows furrow. “Oh, Layla.”
I ignore her worry and say, “I need my dog.”
Ruby and April glance at each other as if unsure what to do.
I repeat the words. This is an action I can take. “Belle. I need her.”
Ruby bites her lip. “Layla, it’s Michael’s dog.”
“She’s mine,” I say, full of stubbornness. “She needs me to take care of her.”
April clears her th
roat. “Honey, Michael’s family will take care of her.”
I shake my head. “No. I will. I need to get her. She’s alone and she’s going to be scared.”
April and Ruby share another one of those concerned glances I’ve received hundreds of times and I can’t take it one more second. I scream, “I need my dog! If you want to do something for me, take me to her. Get me Belle.”
They stare at me, eyes wide, mouths open.
I become restless under their stunned silence and I hand Ruby my cracked phone. “I have a key, but call Jillian and tell her I’m taking her.”
“I don’t know,” April begins and I cut her off.
“I’m getting her. I don’t need your permission, or your help.” I walk to the hallway and grab my coat in the front closet. “Call Jillian, I’m getting my dog and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
Then I turn and slam out the door. I race to the elevator and jab the down button repeatedly, staring up at the blinking numbers and cursing under my breath. Now that the idea has taken hold I can’t get to Belle fast enough.
The elevator chimes, and I step inside, and just as the doors start to close, Ruby slips in. “I’m going with you.”
I’d rather be alone, but shrug. Some battles aren’t worth fighting.
Several beats of heavy silence pass before Ruby turns her head to look at me. “She’s not yours to take, LayLay.”
I want to shriek at her not to call me that, but I say, in what even I recognize as an eerily calm voice, “She’s alone, and she needs me.”
She touches my arm and I jerk away. She blows out a deep breath. “I don’t know what to do.”
“There’s nothing to do.”
“Layla,” Ruby says, putting her arm around me and not letting me flinch away. “Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t throw away your happiness. Not when you’re getting a second chance.”
A second chance? He’s been a cop for all these years without incident, he meets me and within hours of telling him I love him he’s shot. How can that possibly be a coincidence? He’s not my second chance—I’m his curse.
Why don’t they understand this?
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