Mended: A Salvation Society Novel

by Gabrielle G.

  “It’s like she took this Oliver to the grave with her and in his place left a shadow of that guy.” I understand that. I fought hard to bury the Tessa I was with King and reinvented myself. Except Oliver didn’t reinvent himself for the best. He became a quieter version of himself when I became stronger and louder, or so I thought until last night.

  “Do you miss the guy you were?”

  “Yes. I don’t miss skydiving or taking risks that could have dreadful consequences for my life, but I miss his confidence. I miss how at peace he was with every decision he made. I miss his coolness.” You never see yourself the way your entourage does. And sometimes you need a little reminder of who you are in the eyes of others.

  “I don’t know, the Oliver I know stole my car the day he met me, is pretty confident about his charms and body—and I might add he’s right about it—and seems very cool with his aviators folded in the collar of his shirt and his oh so trendy sneakers.”

  “The Oliver you know also had a hard-on for the last hour,” he grins playfully, chasing the sadness and vulnerability he let me foresee.

  “Even when I spoke about my dead fiancé?” I ask, pretending to be shocked.

  “Especially when you spoke about him. As soon as I heard Humvee, I got hard.” He shrugs and winks at the same time, and for the first time in forever, I laugh thinking of a Humvee. “Dead fiancés and boners… quite a great conversation for a first date,” he adds. To my embarrassment, I snort, but Oliver puts me at ease right away. “So, fucking cute. Let it not be our last date Blue-hair,” he murmurs against my lips.

  “Surely not, Green-eyes,” I whisper back before taking his lips. Surely not.

  Chapter Eighteen

  OLIVER

  Tessa is on my mind so much that I can’t focus on work.

  I’ve been searching for anything on VanHorn but I always come back to her, more precisely to her perfect breasts and her cunt I’m dying to taste.

  The VanHorn trail is dead.

  Except if the guy makes a monumental mistake, there is nothing to find that can lead me to him having lied about his military career.

  The only odd thing is Tessa not being part of his life on paper, as if she was a ghost when she said he adopted her. Something is not adding up and if my brain wasn’t craving her, I would have certainly found what it is by now.

  My whole body is hard and my heart is opening up to the possibilities I’ve been closed to for a while— the possibility of an us, of me with anyone—and I don’t feel out of control thinking about it.

  I came to the conclusion that we’re inevitable and I’m done fighting what the universe wants.

  That girl is under my skin.

  Is it because she knows we will never be the love of each other’s lives or because she’s as broken as I am. I don’t know, but she’s there and I’m ready to let her in. Others have tried, hit on my heart with their fist so hard it should have knocked me out, but I never let it happen.

  Tessa just grazed it, not even.

  She wanted to get in as much as I wanted to let her in—not at all—but there she is. Subverting every one of my breaths. Perverting every one of my thoughts. Slowly making every memory of Elaine bearable. “Le coeur a ses raisons que la raison de connaît pas,” as I like to remind my sister when she began her story with Dan and she was overthinking.

  The heart has its reasons, of which reason knows nothing.

  And my heart is gone for a blue-haired girl, even if I shouldn’t. So many reasons why I shouldn’t: my son, the people we loved, the digging I have to do on her stepdad, the protectiveness of the guys at Cole Security, our living arrangements.

  I push it all away.

  I still have a week or so working here, maybe more, and we’ll see then.

  I need to learn how to walk before running. But I am so afraid to go back to the loss of control and the void inside of me, my brain is overworking to find a solution already when we’ve only had sex once and went on one date.

  I’m a pathetic fool but she’s the only air I need to survive, and I am not ready to die.

  Not anymore.

  If Aito had given me the strength to go on, Tessa is giving me the hope I need to continue to live.

  The hope that in the middle of the dark tunnel I’ve been walking through, there is a light that is able to brighten my path with just a smile and a strand of blue in her hair. And maybe I’m lying to myself, but it feels good to think this way and for once, I’m allowing myself to do so. I allow myself to think I can be happy after Elaine and I’m even feeling it.

  Still grinning at the thought of seeing Tessa later, I answer the FaceTime call coming in. Naomi and my son fill the screen, making me smile even more.

  “Hi guys,” I say, elated.

  “Shit, Ol! Let me take a screenshot.”

  “Why?” I laugh without knowing her reason. Naomi’s way to greet me is always different. She has been a tornado in my life, before being a rock. Her friendship means everything to me and I am glad to be forever part of her life with the baby we share.

  “You’re fucking happy, man. That’s why!” Trouble says, appearing on the screen. “She needs to send it to Anna. So you got into the panties of the girl with the blue hair?”

  “Tessa,” I grumble, not liking Lars Trouble describing her as if she was just any other girl.

  “Tessa, got it,” he says with a smirk.

  “I was going to ask if you wanted us to come by so you can spend some time with Aito, but I guess you’re good?” Naomi asks.

  Images of my son and my girl spring into my mind and my heart wants to jump out of my chest. Tessa holding him, mothering him, being there for him… Shit.

  “Would you come alone?” Naomi nods. I have no doubts she knows what happened. Anna might be her boss but they are friends and share almost everything. Well Anna does. Naomi isn’t one to open up easily.

  “If you don’t want Anna to come, she’ll stay behind but she’s worried and it seems what you said hurt her. You haven’t talked to her since and she keeps asking if I got any news. I don’t want to get into your sibling business but, maybe send her a text or something?” Anna and I never fight, but after her showing up, I said some harsh things. Things only she could understand because I spoke in French and fast. But things I needed to say. For years, my sorrow was discounted because she was grieving a miscarriage and the end of a marriage, and it’s okay. I didn’t want the attention. I wore my mask, I didn’t want her to see me hurt. But now that she’s happy, it doesn’t give her the right to finally try to fix me.

  So, I told her to go fuck off and to stay focused on her own shit like she did for years.

  I was mad and didn’t want to see her worried eyes when I was doing my best to keep it together in front of Mark and Tessa, which was stupid as they know more than Anna did.

  But I needed my sister to not be there. To disappear. To let me be.

  “I know. I just need more time. She needs to let me breathe. Since Aito’s birth, she’s been… too much.”

  “She’s worried, man,” Trouble, always the conciliator tries to help, “we all were...”

  “Were? You’re not anymore?”

  “Not with that smile. It’s the first time it’s reached your eyes since I’ve met you.”

  “I almost regret the time when you couldn’t stand him, handsome,” Naomi tells her man, “you two are the cutest bromance I know.”

  “Don’t tell Dan,” I laugh, “he might get jealous!”

  “Speaking of… Should we ask him to officially be the Godfather of Aito?” Lars asks a little emotion in his voice. I nod. From kicking my ass, to helping Lars accept Naomi was pregnant with my child, he did more to help us navigate our situation than anyone else.

  “And Anna the Godmother, of course.” I say. Even if I’m mad at my sister, none of us would have Aito without her. She’s the pillar of our lives. “How’s Sweet going to take it all?” I ask about the third member of the Darling Devils.
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br />   “That’s something else I need to deal with,” Trouble says scratching his head. “I fucked up somewhere and I don’t know what I did.” He seems pained by the situation. I know how he feels. Sometimes our smallest actions hurt the people closest to you. I need to get another beer with Mark and make sure he’s okay. I wasn’t there for him, his wedding, the birth of his kid.

  “Maybe Naomi should come here with Aito while you try a weekend with your boys?” I wiggle my eyebrows just to make him jealous. I would never pull the move on his girl, and she knows it, but fucking with Lars’ insecurities is what I love doing the most.

  “No fucking way,” he laughs. “We come together so I can enjoy your blue-hair girl drooling all over the rock star that I am. She seemed to like what she saw when we talked the first time.”

  “Asshole,” I laugh. They both quiet down. I focus on them to see them exchange a knowing look only couples madly in love can understand.

  A pang of jealousy touches my heart.

  Not because I want it with Naomi, but because I want that again. Just looking into someone’s eyes and sharing a thought.

  “What?” I ask barely tolerating being the third wheel of the parenting dynamic we are.

  “It’s really good to hear you laugh, that’s it.” Naomi smiles. Never saying what she feels but letting me get a glimpse of her emotions from time to time.

  “And we’ll be there, without your sister and her husband, in a few days. I just need to talk to Crawford to be sure, everything is alright with Sweet and we’ll come down.” Lars salutes me with two fingers and disappears from the screen.

  “Is he okay?” I ask Naomi.

  She shrugs. “Art Sweet is an asshole. Seems he’s just realizing so. He was never on the receiving end like Anna. Even if I shouldn’t be too harsh on him knowing how he helped me when Lars and I weren’t talking. Things haven’t been easy between the three devils. That’s it. They’ve been committed to each other for more than twenty-five years. It’ll pass.” She says with the same indifference she sparkles on everything.

  “I need to talk to Crawford too. He might be able to help me with the job I’m doing. Mark really didn’t need me to come here, but I understand why he wanted me to. It was time.” Naomi gives me one of her little smiles. The one that means more than what she lets you see.

  “It was time,” she nods. “And it’s time to stop pretending, Ol. We’ve all enabled you for long enough. We thought you needed time but we were wrong. So I won’t anymore. I did as a favor to your sister, but she even realizes how wrong she was. I’m done answering the phone every time you need reassurance, I’m done letting you use Aito to calm your anxiety and I’m done closing my eyes when you need to check if you gave me the PJs you believe is vital for his well being. I love you but I need you to focus on the right things and to stop making your life, and ours, more difficult than it should be. And before you grumble something about Lars, know that if I listened to him, we would be enabling you for far longer than I can take. You know me… You knew it was coming.”

  Closing my eyes, I sigh before nodding.

  I’m surprised she didn’t call me out on my shit before.

  Fuck.

  I was such a dumbass thinking I was fooling everyone when in fact they were the one fooling me and entertaining my madness.

  “I’m sorry.” I don’t know why I’m apologizing but it feels like it’s something I should do.

  “There is nothing to apologize for, Ol. But it’s time. I’ll see you in a few days. Say bye to daddy.” She waves Aito’s little hand and I smile, my heart a little heavy and needing to find peace against the myriad of thoughts popping from left and right.

  What else do they know?

  Hanging up, I dive back into work, trying to ignore the voice telling me that even in my grief, I wasn’t good enough to keep the truth from showing, that even in hiding my feelings, I was still bleeding my pain and they all let me hide out of love, thinking that what I needed was time.

  But time has nothing to do with grief, only wanting to move on can heal you. And I’m finally ready to.

  Chapter Nineteen

  TESSA

  I grin reading the text Oliver sent me.

  Oliver: See you tonight, Blue-hair. Can’t wait.

  I never thought a few words would make me so giddy, but seeing his name on my screen makes me as dizzy as a teenage-virgin finding her clit for the first time.

  “You look happy,” my mother says with a hint of curiosity in her voice. I lift my eyes from my screen to find her studying me, her hips leaning against the bar and her short but perfectly manicured nails tapping on her forearms. My mother is the perfect wife you need by your side to advance your career.

  Dinner parties, interior decoration, smiles and light conversation are her forte.

  You can throw anything at her, and you wouldn’t even see her chin tremble in public.

  She doesn’t tremble much in private either.

  “Just something Ashton sent me.” Trying to stop the interrogation I feel coming, I walk away from her and get a glass from the cupboard to fill it with tap water.

  “I think it’s the therapy,” she says, coming closer to me. She takes the glass of water from my hand, opens the fridge and fills it with the cucumber water she swears by. According to her, if she still looks so young at her age—which has to be determined, no one knows anymore— it’s because of her flavored waters. Staying hydrated is half the battle, she likes to say to whomever wants to hear it.

  I hate vegetables in my drink but it doesn’t matter.

  Who I am and what I want never really counted for my mother as long as I followed the plan Andre and her led for me to take since they gave me the opportunity to become an engineer.

  I always fulfilled my side of the bargain, at least until King died.

  “Maybe,” I reply to not dismiss the little effort she’s making of having an interest in my life. As I came to talk to her about what Oliver discovered—or should I say the lack of—I need to make nice if I want some answers. My mother is the queen of avoidance, and every conversation needs to be steered carefully where you want it to if you want her to tell you what you need. It’s exhausting, but it’s the only way I know how to communicate with her. I often wish I could have the relationship my sister has with her. If only I was more tamed and obedient and not allergic to her bullshit. “I went only once but it helped already. I have this exercise to do. Every day I need to tell someone about King’s death to accept it. Or interiorize it or some shit—”

  “Language…”

  “Yes mother, I’m sorry.” I smile and go on, avoiding rolling my eyes, “Anyway, I need to repeat the story over and over and it has helped me.” She gestures for me to drink the evil water and in the spirit to avoid another lecture about my skin, I do.

  “Who have you told?” She asks while I try not to keep the flavored water down.

  “The therapist and…” I pause trying to decide how to describe Oliver to my mother without her believing I’m finally moving on. I don’t need her trying to marry me to the latest prospect she found. Not that she didn’t try every holiday since King died, “a friend of Mark.” And because I don’t want her to ask anything more than I’m willing to tell her, I don’t allow her the time to ask a question before adding, “can you tell me again how you met Dad?”

  She steps back and closes her eyes, not because she’s sad, but because she hates talking about him. My question disturbs the perfect life she created by making her remember the days she was a car racing groupie.

  “Garrett. I’ve told you time after time to call him Garrett and not Dad.” She did, and I never conformed. “He’s no one. Andre on the other hand…” She’s exactly where I want her to be.

  She can be so predictable.

  Every time I talk about my father she counters with something about Andre. Andre the savior who she fell in love with when my father chose his career over her. Andre who saved me from the tornado the medi
a were when I was only a child who had just lost her dad. Andre the rescuer who gave me his name so no one would know who I was.

  “Speaking about Andre, it came to my attention that I wasn’t mentioned in Andre’s bio or anywhere in his life in fact. Is there a reason?”

  Straight to the jugular. My mother staggers briefly but keeps her smile on. Her blue eyes empty but her face trying to keep the composure she loves.

  Wife of a CIA agent was always a better image than lover of a racer, even if the hours alone raising her daughters were the same, even if both loved their job more than her, even if at the end of the day, she was still alone at night and still worried Andre would die.

  Or so I believe, she never confided in me but her life with Andre was no different than when she was with my father and he was on the tracks.

  “To prepare for the future,” she clears her throat and doesn’t avoid my eyes, ”it was decided that it was better if you don’t appear at too many events and if you were erased from his background.” She enunciates perfectly.

  It takes balls to be my mother.

  I’ll give her that.

  Mrs. VanHorn has a role to play.

  She never shows her emotions, they are weaknesses no one needs.

  Growing up, I never knew if it was her true self. I kept wanting her to be a loving and caring mother and to let the mask fall, but I realized soon enough that the mask was the only concern she’ll show. Asking how therapy goes is the small talk she needs to make as a mother.

  But in the end, she’s always prepared, always has an answer, never really cared. Even if for a few seconds she can give you the inkling she could.

  “Look,” she goes on in her business tone, “we were just advised by your father’s PR team that maybe leaving you out of the narrative was better for everyone. With your fiancé’s death and the phase you seemed to be going through, not really living a life we could caution, we didn’t want you to be under the pressure of what his career might ask us to do.” The political answer is perfect. I was after all a loose cannon in their world. “I mean, weren’t we right, darling? Didn’t you have a little breakdown a couple of days ago? Don’t you think this would be hard for your father’s career if people came to know he had a daughter who was troubled?”