by Bella Jewel
“It was exactly the same shade . . .”
Oh God.
“I can’t destroy another life, Anabelle. I can’t be a dad. I’m . . . not worthy.”
I take a step towards him. “You’re wrong about that. I know it, because what you did was heroic. You tried to save a life, Max, and that wasn’t easy, especially considering the damage already done. You’re more than worthy of being her dad.”
His eyes flash and he stares at me. “What if I don’t want to be?”
That hurts, but I understand why he’s saying it. He looks at the wall to his left, his face hard. I have to fix this. It’s up to me now, to push past this wall he’s built up around himself and let him know that he can be what she needs. I understand why he doesn’t believe it, but I believe it and that’s enough. So I start talking, without even thinking.
“She was only five pounds born,” I say softly, my voice warm for my daughter. “So tiny, and yet she came into this world screaming, letting everyone know she had a place.”
His body flinches, but he doesn’t look at me.
“By the time she was one, she had everyone wrapped around her little finger. She was strong, and determined, and so damned happy you couldn’t not love her.”
He starts panting.
“When she turned three, she beat up the neighbor’s kid because he called her ugly.” I laugh at the memory of her punching into the little boy. Of course she got into trouble for it, but I was so proud of her. “Do you know what she said to him?”
Max looks over to me now.
“She said ‘Only an ugly person would say something like that’.”
Max’s lip twitches.
“I’d told her, even from a young age, that people that are horrible are the true ugly of the world, and I never thought she got it until that day.”
His eyes study my face.
“She’s more like you than you could begin to imagine. She’s feisty, strong, frustrating, and so fucking beautiful it hurts.”
He swallows hard.
“And she deserves you in her life, Max. It was never my place to decide you couldn’t have that.”
“You made a choice, and it was probably a fucking smart one.”
I stare at him, really studying his face. “If you really don’t want to be in her life, I’ll leave, Max. I’ll see my mother out, and then I’ll go back to my life. But I want you to be sure about that, because while you’re living in pain, that little girl is wondering who you are. I’ll let you decide if she gets the chance to know you.”
With that, I turn and walk to the door.
“And Max?” I say when I get there.
He looks over to me, his eyes so full of pain.
“You never had to be scared of snuffing out the light in my eyes, because in case you didn’t know . . . you were the reason that light was there.”
I walk out to the sound of his pained groan.
He gets me.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THEN – MAX – AFTER THE ACCIDENT
It’s been two weeks.
Two weeks since that little girl was taken from this world in the cruelest way possible. Two weeks since her little life was cut short.
I went to the funeral and watched from behind the trees as they said goodbye to a family that seemed to have very little love. There were only five people there. Five. In all their lives, they only have five people that loved them. Nobody should live without that kind of love. No one. Not even the scum of the earth.
“Hey.”
I lift my head from the coffee mug I was staring at, and see Belle coming in. She smiles at me, and it takes everything inside for me to smile back, but I do. I’ve been smiling at her for weeks, trying to get on with life. We’ve been trying for a baby, and I can see the happiness in her eyes. I make her happy. I’m everything to her. I’m her husband – I swore I’d protect her and that’s what I’m doing.
“Morning, Blue Belle.”
“How’d you sleep?”
Shit. Horrible. I don’t sleep.
“Awesome. You?”
She beams. “Awesome. You want more coffee?”
“Nah, I gotta run. It’s time for work.”
She frowns, but walks over and tilts my head up, kissing me softly. “I packed lunch for you last night. Will you be home earlier?”
I look up into her eyes, trying to keep the pain out of mine. “Yeah, baby.”
“I miss you when you’re gone.”
I kiss her and stand. “And I miss you, Blue Belle.”
I wrap a hand around the back of her neck and kiss her forehead. She sighs into me.
Then I let her go and leave.
Empty and numb.
~*~*~*~
I can’t handle it anymore.
I’m trying. It’s too hard.
Not even the alcohol is numbing it tonight.
It’s been four weeks, and I’m trying too hard to act normal, to act like I don’t see that little girl’s face in my dreams every night. I can’t get it out. It hurts so fucking much and I’m drowning. I’m drowning faster than I can swim.
I’m trying to keep my wife happy, to not let her see me breaking apart. I spend more time here than at home, just to stop her from seeing the mess I’ve become. I think she knows, I can see the concern in her eyes. I don’t know how to fight it anymore; I don’t know how to make it go away. There are times I think taking myself out of the picture would be easier. I’m so tired of trying.
Tonight I stop trying.
Tonight I’m drinking at my bar, swaying from side to side as the pain keeps finding its way inside. Nothing will take it away. Nothing will make it better. I’m suffering in complete silence. I’ve shot back so much alcohol I can’t even feel my own legs, but the pain in my heart isn’t leaving. It just won’t fucking go. Why the fuck won’t it go?
“More,” I grunt to the bartender, sliding my glass at him.
He studies me with narrowed eyes. “Are you sure about that, sir?”
“Do I fucking own this club?” I bark.
“Yes, but you’re not in a good way tonight and . . .”
I can’t take it. I can’t.
I stand and lift the stool I was sitting on, hurling it across the bar. The bartender ducks, and it narrowly misses him. It hits the wall behind him and bottles of alcohol explode from the shelves. I’m sprayed with glass and alcohol. It soaks into my shirt and I don’t care. People start gasping and chattering, or going completely silent.
“I own this club!” I roar, launching the glass at him next. “If I want a motherfucking drink I’ll have one.”
“I’m sorry sir, I didn’t . . .”
“Stop treating me like I’m a fucking broken toy,” I bellow. “Stop looking at me like I’m a fucking pathetic man.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You shut up! If I’m talking to you, you shut up!”
“Max.”
A hard hand curls around my shoulder and I turn, fighting as hard as I can. It’s one of my security guards. My vision blurs as an emotion I’ve trapped for a full month comes bursting forth, like the poison it is. It constricts in my throat until I can’t breathe. Everyone has stopped, and they’re all staring at me as if I’m broken, as if I’m pathetic.
“Come on, cool it.”
“Don’t tell me to fucking cool it!” I roar.
“You’re losing your shit. Calm down.”
“I can’t fucking calm down.”
Her face keeps flashing in my head, over and over, over and over, until I snap. I launch my fist into his face, over and over. Before I know what’s happening, my club is cleared out and there are so many arms holding me back. There’s blood on my fists and I’m screaming bloody rage, thrashing and just wanting it to stop. A team of security members drag me to the locker room, and I start slamming my fists over and over into them.
“Max, you’ve got to calm down buddy, or I’ll call the cops. Do you want that? Do you want Belle to see you lik
e this?”
It’s my security guard, which one I can’t tell because my vision is blurring. It hurts. It hurts so fucking much. Why won’t this pain leave my heart?
“I don’t fucking care anymore,” I bellow, grabbing my hair and tugging it.
“You do care. Whatever happened, there is always a way to fix it.”
“There’s not,” I hiss, tearing my own hair out. The pain is a good distraction. “There will never be peace. I saw her die. I saw her die in front of my eyes and I didn’t stop it.”
“Who? Who did you see?”
“The little girl. The accident. The car threw her out and she...I tried to help her. I fucking tried. I couldn’t help her. I moved her and I shouldn’t have. I didn’t call the ambulance quickly enough.”
“Buddy,” he says, his voice full of pity.
“No,” I howl. “Don’t you feel sorry for me. No more. No fucking more.”
It’s all too much. I’ve lost it. I can’t take it any more. I just can’t be this person a second longer. I’m sorry, Blue Belle. I tried.
As I sink to my knees, the Max I am dies a cold, painful death.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
NOW – ANABELLE
I don’t see or hear from Max after that, not for three long days. Pippa tries to keep me company, cheering me up, but nothing she can say makes me feel better. Max lived in pain for so long, and I didn’t know. That reality is enough to break my heart into a thousand pieces. My poor, beautiful husband was suffering and I let him.
My mom is getting sicker, which only adds fuel to the fire, so today I’m with her, keeping an eye on her. Immy is with me, watching television. I usually wouldn’t put her in this situation, but Tina had to go out of town with her husband, Chase, so I had no choice but to bring her with me.
I’m trying to keep her as far away from the horror that Mom is experiencing the best I can, but I’m growing more and more concerned for Mom. She looks awful and has been vomiting for the last hour. She keeps reassuring me it’s normal and that it happens every few days, but I come and visit her every day and I’ve never seen her like this. Her skin has a grayish tinge, her eyes are sunken, and she is so skinny I’m concerned.
“Let me take you to the hospital and get you checked out, Mom,” I say, wiping her face with a cool, damp washer.
“So they can tell me the obvious,” she croaks. “I’m dying, sweetheart, and nothing anyone does can change that.”
Tears burn under my eyelids. “Yes, but they said . . . there was more time . . . you probably just have a bug.”
She takes my face with one of her hands and stokes her thumb over my cheek. “We’ve talked about this; there’s nothing to be afraid of. It’ll all be okay.”
“But . . .”
I don’t get to finish my sentence because she doubles over again. I lift the bucket by the couch quickly, placing it in front of her so she can throw up into it. This time, tiny strands of blood go in and panic squeezes my chest. That’s not right. I have to take her to the hospital.
“I’m taking you to get checked out. You either let me or I’ll call an ambulance.”
She can’t protest, because she’s lying back groaning in pain. I stand and rush into the room where Immy is watching television. “Come on, sweetheart, we need to take Nanna to the hospital.”
“I don’t wanna go to the hospital, Momma!” she cries.
Immy doesn’t cope well waiting for hours at the hospital. Usually I give her to Tina or Pippa when I take Mom in, but today they’re both unavailable.
“I know, but no one else is around. I have to take her. Come on, baby, don’t make this hard.”
“I don’t wanna go!” she cries.
She’s figured out tantrums in the last six months. They told me they’d stop at four. They lied. She is as fiery as me and Max combined, and if she doesn’t want to do something, she lets the entire world know it.
“You’re coming, end of story.”
She throws herself onto the ground, screeching. Shaking my head, I run back out to check on Mom. She’s got her eyes closed, and she’s clammy. Dammit. I need to call an ambulance. I dial 911 and tell the operator what’s happening with her. They assure me someone is on the way, and will be less than five minutes. I try to gather up Immy again but she starts screaming and runs away.
Frustrated and stressed, I focus on Mom. I’ll worry about Immy when the ambulance arrives and I know Mom is safe. I rush back out and see Mom isn’t moving. Panic swells in my chest and I lunge forward, dropping to my knees. “Mom,” I call, shaking her gently. She doesn’t wake up. Tears burst forth and I cry out again, “Mom?”
Nothing.
“What’s wrong with Nanna?” Immy cries, seeing the panic in my eyes.
“Nothing, sweetheart. Shhh, she’s sleeping.”
Immy starts to cry, and I know I can’t let her witness this. I have only one person I can turn to who I know would put their life down to make sure Immy is safe. I have to call Max. She doesn’t know him, but at least with him, I know she’s safe.
“Listen to me sweetheart,” I say, turning her towards me. “Mommy has a friend that you can stay with for a few hours while I take Nanna to the hospital, would you like that?”
She blinks away her tears. “Does he have Despicable Me?”
I smile. She loves that damned movie and those damned tiny yellow creatures. “If not, we can lend him ours. What do you say?”
“Is he very mean?”
I shake my head. “He’s very nice.”
“Okay. I want to go there.”
Immy is used to care, being that I had to work to survive so I could never stay at home full-time with her. She’s social, and she loves company. She’s not afraid of men, so I pray she won’t be afraid of her dad. The thought of this being their first official meeting scares me, but I have no choice. I just hope Max says yes.
Before I manage to make the call, the ambulance arrives. I quickly tell them what’s happening, trying to fight back my tears as they work on Mom, who is struggling to breathe. I choke back a sob and take my daughter away, because she’s become frantic again. I sit her on the bed, away from the horrible scene before her.
“I’m going to call my special friend Max, okay?”
She nods, swiping her tears.
I find Max’s number and dial. I don’t expect him to answer, but when he does, I sigh with relief.
“Anabelle.”
I try to find my words and make them clear, but they come out muffled and choked. “Max, I need your help.”
“What’s going on?” he asks, his voice holding a concerned edge.
“It’s Mom; she’s so sick. The ambulance is here to take her, but . . .”
“Fuck, is she okay?”
“No, Max,” I whisper. “My sister is out of town and Pippa is away with Tyke . . . Immy . . . she’s really upset.”
He goes silent.
“I wouldn’t call if I wasn’t desperate, Max. You know I wouldn’t . . . This isn’t how I wanted this to go. I know I promised you that you could make the choice, but she’s hysterical. She can’t witness this. I have no one else I trust.”
“You trust me?” he says, his voice thick.
“You and I might have our issues, but I know you’d never let anyone hurt her, even if you don’t know her.”
“That’s just the problem, Anabelle.” Him calling me that is like a cold slap to the face. “She doesn’t know me.”
“I’ve explained that you are going to look after her, and she’s okay with that.”
“Fuck, I don’t know about this . . .”
“Max, please,” I sob. “You’re the only person I can turn to.”
“Miss?”
I spin around to see an ambulance officer at the door. “We’ve got your mom stable, but we need to get her to the hospital urgently. Are you riding with her?”
“I . . . I have a daughter,” I croak. “I’ll have to follow.”
He nods and tells
me which hospital they’re going to.
“Jesus,” Max says. “Fuck, okay, I’m on my way.”
“Thank you.”
I hang up and turn to Immy, who is watching the space where the officer was standing. “Is Nanna going to die, Mommy?”
“Oh baby.”
I walk over and scoop her into my arms. She doesn’t really understand death, but she knows something is wrong. I stroke her soft locks, soothing her. I sit on the bed and rock her, talking gently to her. I don’t notice that Max has entered the house, or that he’s standing in the doorway watching us until Immy says, “Mommy, there’s a man there. Is that your special friend?”
I jerk my head up and see him standing, staring down at Imogen. His eyes are intense and he looks hurt.
“Yes,” I whisper, standing and placing her down. I lead her over until we stop in front of him. “Imogen, this is my friend Max.”
Immy looks up at him, and so much emotion explodes in my chest as he watches her, his face softening with every passing second. Finally, he kneels and stares at her, and when he speaks his voice is thick with emotion. “Hey there, kiddo, how you doin’?”
She smiles shyly. “I’m okay. My nanna is sick.”
He nods. “That’s not good, is it?”
She shakes her head. “Mommy said you will let me watch Despicable Me if I stay with you while she helps Nanny.”
“I think we can work something out.”
Max looks up at me, and his eyes are glassy with emotion. I’m crying hard, so I turn and press my hand over my nose to stop the sting. I try to gather myself enough to face this, but it’s the worst time. I wanted them to meet on different terms, but I have been left with no choice.
“I’ll take care of her,” Max says, his voice close.
I turn and he’s come up so close I can see his chest. I take a step back and look up at him. “I believe that.”
He leans down close, bringing his lips close to my ear. “She’s fucking perfect. That’s all on you.”
My tears come harder again and I turn away, not able to cope right now. I squat in front of Immy. “I want you to be a good girl for Max, okay? I’ll bring you your favorite cupcake on my way home, but only if you’re the best, best girl you can be.”