Bent not Broken

by Lisa De Jong

  “How do you know it won’t work? Have you ever tried to have a relationship?”

  I lifted a brow. “No. Have you?”

  Dom’s mouth twisted as he digested my words. He had never tried either. He slept with anything on two legs in an attempt to mask his insecurities and shame. After years of being raped by someone who proclaimed to love him, Dom had been confused about his sexuality. He thought being violated by a man meant he was gay, yet he didn’t find men attractive. He was undoubtedly good-looking, almost pretty. Both men and women found him exotic and enticing. His uncle even tried to use the defense that Dominic had indeed enjoyed it since he had ejaculated. Luckily, the jurors in Dom’s case saw his bullshit for what it was.

  “You don’t want to be like me, Kam. Different chicks every night - hell, I couldn’t even tell you who I brought home last week. That’s not you. You’re not a slut. You deserve someone who is going to cherish and love you. You need someone to build a life with. Maybe even start a family.”

  “And you think that someone is Blaine,” I said incredulously.

  “I think he could be. But you won’t know that until you try, Kam.” He handed me my cell phone that he’d been clutching. “Call him. Maybe he’ll understand. Maybe he’ll be exactly what you need. You owe it to yourself to at least try and find out.”

  Dom brushed away a wayward lock of hair from my forehead before leaving me alone to make my decision. I looked over at the jar of colorful origami stars in my windowsill. They were laughing at me. Taunting me. Reminding me why no one would ever be able to accept me. Not the way that I needed them to.

  I powered down my cell phone that was hanging on to its last bar of battery life and set it on my nightstand. No. I couldn’t call. I had 253 reasons not to.

  Chapter 22

  Kami

  I was off for the next two days, so I was able to properly wallow in my misery. I was pathetic. It was bad enough that I had played every sad song in existence on a continuous loop, but I had also played my own renditions of dejection. I had no right to be sad when my unhappiness was self-inflicted. But I was a masochist. I needed the pain. I needed the constant reminder of what…he…had done to me.

  By Tuesday, fed up with the doom and gloom of my bedroom, Angel stormed in with a determined expression.

  “That’s it! Enough already, Kam! You are obviously miserable, and it’s making us miserable. Call him, please!”

  I propped my guitar against my bed and frowned at her. “Why should I? He has officially seen me at my worst. Do you really think I can just bullshit my way out of a freak out like that?”

  Angel fingered her blonde hair and flopped down onto my bed. “No. But I think you can be honest with him. And I think he would be ok with it.”

  “Ok? Ok? Angel, how is any of this ok? How is screaming bloody murder in the middle of the night ok? How is hyperventilating to the point of fainting whenever a door is closed ok? How the fuck is nearly drowning because I can’t stand up in a pool of shallow water ok?”

  Angel’s big blue eyes glazed over with emotion at my outburst. “Kam…” she croaked, before swallowing down her hurt. But there was nothing left to say. There was no answer to my questions.

  “He wouldn’t understand.” I looked away to keep frustrated tears at bay. “He thinks he would. He thinks he could be with me despite it all, but I know it’s impossible. And when he finally sees that, it will kill me. I have no room left in me to be hurt, Angel. I’m barely hanging on as it is.”

  I looked back to Angel’s solemn face and sighed with resignation. “And how could I ever forgive myself for subjecting him to all my shit? He doesn’t deserve that. No one does.”

  Angel’s slender arms were around me instantly, squeezing me as if her life depended on it. Fresh tears on her cheeks wet my shoulder. “Don’t you dare fucking think that! Do you really think you are undeserving of happiness? Of love? That’s bullshit, and you know it! Blaine would be lucky to have you, Kami. It would be a fucking dream come true to love you, scars and all.”

  I clutched her arms that were wound across my chest, and let my own tears fall freely. I didn’t wipe these away. They weren’t just for me. They were for Angel, who wanted nothing more than to be loved for all that she was. She had experienced rejection of the worst kind. Her own parents had disowned her for being gay and tried to buy her off to keep her hidden. Her father was a US senator and an unrelenting conservative. Having a homosexual rocker for a daughter just didn’t fit his agenda. So, she had been sent away with a trust fund and a condo as long as she kept hidden from the media. She wasn’t allowed to visit for holidays or special celebrations. Birthday gifts were sent in the form of a wire transfer. It was as if she didn’t even exist in their lives anymore.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, feeling like a jackass. I really was. I was carrying on like someone had died because I was too stubborn to face my fears.

  “Just try. Please. Do it for me. And for Dom. And for you - do it because you deserve it. You do, Kam. You deserve to be loved. Out of the three of us, you have the best chance.”

  “Ok,” I choked out between silent sobs. “Ok, I’ll try. But you deserve it too, Angel. There’s someone out there for you. You are loved. Do you hear me? You. Are. Loved.”

  We held each other for a few more minutes, trying to stifle the surge of emotion threatening to drown us. When Angel finally pulled away, she gave me a pensive smile. “Dom is meeting us at the bar in an hour. You’re coming too, no exceptions. This is your chance. Don’t let it get away.”

  I nodded, though a big part of me desperately wanted to get out of going. I couldn’t do that to her. She needed hope. She needed to believe that there was still beauty in a world so full of ugliness. And if I needed to be the sacrificial lamb to restore that hope, then I would gladly take one for the team.

  I put myself together as best as I could, considering my face was still a bit splotchy, and my eyes were a little red. I even slipped on a sundress and espadrilles, hoping it would give me a boost of confidence. No such luck. I still was terrified to walk into Dive after what went down Sunday. Everyone had seen me lose my shit. They knew something was terribly wrong with me. They would look at me with pity. They’d whisper. They’d see me for what I was.

  Angel grasped my hand as we approached the entrance, and gave it a squeeze. “If anyone says anything, I’ll kick them in the nuts.”

  I tried to twist my frown into grin. “And what if it’s a girl?”

  “I’ll cunt punt the bitch,” she deadpanned.

  A real, genuine chuckle broke through my lips as I let her lead me inside. I loved the awesomeness that was Angel Cassidy. And one day, someone else would too.

  My eyes zeroed in on the bar, only to be met with a pang of disappointment. Trisha smiled at us as we approached, already preparing Angel’s signature tequila shot and light beer.

  “Hey, Kam. What brings you in tonight? I thought you were off?”

  My gaze ghosted in the direction of the back office. “Oh, um, just hanging out,” I stammered, swinging my attention back to her. “And I need to speak with Blaine. Is he here?”

  “He was, but I think he went home. Everything ok?”

  I knew she was just being friendly, but I couldn’t help but grow annoyed at her question. It was none of her business, and I was just sick of people asking me that.

  “Yeah. Everything’s fine. Can I get a Coke, please?”

  Minutes later, the A.D. girls filtered in, securing a booth tucked away in a corner. Dom arrived shortly after them, still dressed for his day job at a local center for at-risk teens. After everything he had been through, Dom had still found the courage to help others in need. Sometimes his job put him face to face with his demons, yet he fought through them in order to help others. His strength and selflessness knew no bounds, and I was proud to be his friend.

  “I need a drink,” he stated sliding in next to me.

  “Rough day?”

  Dom shrug
ged before signaling for Lidia. “No rougher than usual. Just so sick and tired of kids getting bullied. It’s seriously getting out of hand. A kid came in, 15 years old and gay. The guys at have been really laying into him, and he’s reported them several times with no results. One of his tormentors - you know the type, asshole jock with something to prove - corners him and tries to force himself on the poor kid. He said that if he told, no one would believe him because the little prick has a girlfriend. Anyway, the kid got away with a busted up eye and a bloody lip. I called the police and had him report it. Hopefully it helps to stop these little shits from torturing him, but we know how it goes…”

  Dom’s eyes grew dark and desolate, the way they always did whenever certain triggers resurrected his own painful memories. I laid my hand atop his clenched fist and gave it a squeeze. He blinked rapidly and turned to me, his dazzling smile replacing the grimace that had marred his handsome face.

  “So Kam, you call Blaine?” he said, low enough to escape curious ears.

  I shook my head. “I was hoping to see him here.”

  “Well, maybe CJ knows. He just walked in.”

  I looked over in time to see CJ sauntering over, a nervous, tight-lipped grin on his face.

  “Hey, uh, um…” he stuttered. “I just wanted to say, that, um…”

  I held up my hand, halting any further explanation. “It’s all good, CJ. Nothing to worry about. Pull up a chair and join us. Better yet, you can have my seat.” I nudged Dom to let me out, earning a half-frown from him.

  “And where do you think you’re going?” he asked, sliding out of the booth.

  “To do what I should have done a long time ago.”

  Minutes later, I was in Angel’s Lexus Coupe, cruising down the highway towards Blaine’s house. I had to do this before I lost my nerve, and with the sun setting behind me, I was running out of time.

  The squeaky hamster wheel of scenarios in my head drowned out the subdued sounds of The Civil Wars on the stereo system as I tried to prepare myself for the worst. What if he wasn’t alone? What if one of his groupies had already taken my place? What if he was currently losing himself in her in an attempt to forget me?

  The possibilities weren’t enough to get me to turn back. I needed to see it. I knew the scene would be enough to hurt me into never letting myself feel again. I needed that pain to be my constant reminder, to help me return to indifference. I had apparently forgotten about the agony I already harbored, allowing Blaine to take up space in my heart and mind. They had both been destroyed, but somehow Blaine had begun to repair the damage.

  They say that a broken heart never really can be fixed. Yet his touch had sealed the gaping wounds and even filled the tiny fissures that couldn’t be seen. My heart may have not been completely healed, but Blaine had nurtured it with lingering smiles, whispered words and soft kisses. It had been out of order for so long, and over the past weeks, had slowly but surely begun to function again.

  I pulled up to his house, palms sweaty and breath shallow. I could do this. I had to do this. I owed it to Angel for every lonely night she spent longing for someone to love her. I owed it to Dom for all the pain and suffering he had endured at the hands of someone who proclaimed to love him. And I owed it to myself for all for the love I had been too afraid to feel.

  Love. It was the thing that bound us and tore us apart. It was our disease and the remedy of our shattered hearts.

  It was a sonofabitch.

  I counted down from 10 with every step I took towards his front door. I didn’t see his truck, but it could’ve been in the garage. I didn’t know what I walking into, and the uncertainty seized my joints, making me work for every single movement towards my fate. It felt like I was walking the green mile rather than the paved stone path to Blaine’s porch.

  My pressed the doorbell before my brain could talk me out of it. No answer. I hit the button again and waited another 30 seconds. Shit. All that worrying and he wasn’t even there. I shook my head at the absurdity and rummaged through my purse. Then I left a folded piece of paper on his doorstep. At least he’d know I’d been by. And if he had moved on, maybe this would make him think about me. Maybe even enough to not want to forget the memories of our time together that I clung onto like a lifesaver.

  “Kami?”

  I slowly spun around, the air in my lungs abandoning me at the sound of his voice. Blaine stood just feet away from me, shirtless, and dripping wet with sweat. Black athletic shorts and running shoes were the only thing gracing his magnificent body. His tanned skin glistened underneath the setting sun, and his sandy brown hair stuck to his forehead. A single, solitary drop of sweat hung onto one of the longer layers over chocolate-brown eyes that watched me with appreciative surprise. I suddenly grew incredibly thirsty – parched, even - and only that drop would ease my dry throat.

  “Kami?” he repeated, pulling the earbuds from his iPod out of his ears.

  I didn’t realize that I still hadn’t said a word to him, too wholly captivated by his near nakedness. Blaine was gorgeous. Magnificent. The prototype of what a man would look like if fantasies were realities.

  “Oh, um, sorry I didn’t call…”

  “That’s ok,” he interjected, stepping towards me and bringing the dark ink adorning his body into focus. Intricate patterns and script kissed his fingers, arms, shoulders and torso. I had discovered more on his legs at the lake but never got the chance to study the designs. Now I was close enough to glimpse the reds, yellows, greens and blues that crawled up his left calf. Every piece was stunning and sophisticated.

  “Is that for me?” he asked, pointing towards the abandoned piece of paper tucked in the corner of his doorframe.

  “Uh, yeah. Figured it’d be better than leaving a note,” I shrugged.

  He reached past me and squatted down to retrieve the little origami frog, giving me a whiff of his sweat slicked skin. His scent, coupled with the trace of mint and spice that I had grown to crave, was masculine and erotic. It was exactly what I imagined his sweat to smell like, and I wanted to bathe in the tiny droplets.

  Blaine fingered the delicate paper and looked down at me with a half-grin. The heat from his body enveloped me, igniting fire in my belly. “Or you could’ve called me.”

  I worked to keep my tight-lipped smile even. “Some things need to be said in person.”

  He nodded, fishing out a key from the iPod armband that hugged his sculpted bicep. “Come on in.”

  Blaine’s house was immaculate, just as it was before. Seeing it again brought back memories of his hands and lips caressing me, his strong arms holding me, and the tender words he uttered after I awoke in the dark. The look on his face when he shared his past with me, the intense feeling of wanting to take away his pain - it all came crashing back.

  Blaine and I may have not known each other well, but we had grown close where it counted. He had witnessed my demons and revealed his own. Our connection wasn’t like the solidarity I shared with Dom or even Angel. But, something had bonded us, and I needed him in my life just the same.

  “I need to take a shower,” he said from behind me as I took in the shelving that held his shot glass collection. My eyes zeroed in on the two blank ones, the ones he claimed were the most significant to him.

  “That’s fine,” I breathed, feeling almost high from his scent.

  “You can stay down here and watch TV if you want.” He made his way to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, downing it in just a few gulps. “You want some wine?”

  “Sure.” A little liquid courage was just what I needed.

  After handing me a glass of chilled white wine, Blaine clicked on the TV. He still had the little paper frog between his fingers, holding it like it was a precious gem. I smiled inwardly. Who knew a tough guy with tattoos and piercings could be so quirky and sentimental? It made him that much more attractive.

  I surveyed the area once I was alone, sipping my wine as I looked at framed pictures of him and
CJ, and even a few of Mick. I noticed several of a woman I knew was his mother. She shared the same sandy brown hair and warm brown eyes as Blaine. Of course, she was stunning, and her bright, beaming face brought a smile to my lips. When I stumbled upon a photo of her and a young Blaine, my breath caught. He looked so happy and innocent, the perfect picture of a young man with his whole life ahead of him. Even then, he was incredibly good-looking, and I imagined his mother having to beat the girls off with a stick.

  “Her name was Amelia,” his rich voice said behind me, a touch of southern drawl conjured up with the memory of his mom.

  “She was gorgeous,” I smiled at Blaine. He was dressed in low-slung cargo shorts and a sleeveless tee. The smell of his body wash filled my nostrils, bringing back memories of the suds all over my naked skin as I touched myself, imagining it to be his fingers. My face flamed, and I turned back to the photos. Shit. Leave it up to me to think about sex while talking about Blaine’s deceased mother. Class-y.

  “She was,” he nodded. “Most of the men in town would try to date her, but I wouldn’t have it. No man was good enough for her. So, I mastered the art of being a sneaky little shit, and making their lives hell.”

  “Not you, Blaine Jacobs! Look at that angelic face,” I chuckled, pointing to the younger version of the scary-beautiful man in front of me, sans tattoos and piercings.

  “You’d be surprised,” he answered rubbing a hand behind is neck.

  I took a deep breath and turned around to face him, resigning to confront the real reason I was there while the wine was coursing through me.

  “Before you say a word,” Blaine interjected, “I want you to know that you still have a place at Dive. Just because things may not work out for us, doesn’t mean you have to leave. I can schedule you with Trisha or Corey, or you can work alone. Or…”

  “Wait…what?” I frowned, taking a step back. “You… you think I came here to break things off with you?”

  Blaine shrugged. “I don’t know. What was I supposed to think, Kami? I haven’t heard from you in days, and now you just show up, looking… fine. Better than fine. Shit, you look amazing. And here I am, going out of my fucking mind worrying about you. So please, tell me what I was supposed to think.”