Wreck Me
Page 17
“Please. Let me explain.” He mumbles and I can see tears dropping from his eyes onto the tiled floor. He can’t even look at me. My lip quivers and I’m dying a thousand deaths watching the scene of my strong man kneel in defeat.
“I can’t.” I force out the words and hate that I even said them. But what other option do I have? Anything I feel for him pales in comparison to the grief that I will always feel for the loss of my parents and the years of hell that my loss precipitated. I turn to leave and I know I am killing both of us, but I can’t look at the man who took my parents from me at only nine years old. I slam his front door with such force even I startle. Even through the heavy door and walls I can hear Damon coming undone at the seams. I ignore the animalistic yelling and crashing noises and all but run to Sutton’s car. Dammit! I don’t want to leave him like that. The idea of him hurting sends my heart into a fit. I have no choice. I have to get out of here and sort my head out before I do anything else.
My phone rang off the hook until I turned it off completely. He pounded on my door until that snobby neighbor called the damned police to have him removed. I haven’t checked my email. I haven’t gone anywhere. I haven’t done…anything. Nothing. I have been lucky to even exist right here on Sutton’s old sofa. Four days. That’s how long it’s been since I last saw Damon. Four days since my entire world fell apart. I wonder if this shit will ever feel any better. The way it feels now, I highly doubt it. A banging on the door gets Hemingway yipping in his tiny barking fashion and I groan like a dying animal. I feel like a dying animal.
“Goooo awaaaaaaaay!” The banging gets louder.
“Girl you better open this door!” GRAMS! Oh shit, Grams! She’ll have a heart attack in this heat. I roll off the couch and crawl on fours for a beat before finally righting myself and swinging the door open with such a rush that a hot gust of air travels in with it. Grams takes one look at me and nearly chokes from what I can see.
“You look like shit! I mean real shit! A big steaming pil-”
“I get it! Come in Grams.” She smiles politely and looks over her shoulder to a waiting car and holds up a shaky finger. She shuffles in with her walker. Tennis balls and all.
“I came to set you right young lady!” Set me right? What the fuck? I screw my face all up and she wrinkles her nose at me. I guess it’s not my best look.
“Me?”
“Yep! You!” She says sternly.
“As much as it pains me I have to set you straight.” It pains her? Awesome. I guess she doesn’t like me as much as I like her.
“I love you to pieces. I hope that once you hear what I have to say you’ll go find Damon and you two will kiss and makeup.”
“What do you mean go find him?” Where the hell is he? My heart speeds and I panic a bit. The thought of never seeing him again is one that has me frantic.
“I’ll get to that in a minute. One thing at a time.” I nod and do my best to appear calm and attentive.
“So, he had two letters delivered to me today. One was for me and one was for you. In my letter he said he knew you would come see me at some point and he wanted me to give it to you. But first and foremost you have to know that Damon wasn’t driving.”
“What?” I screech. She shakes her head from side to side.
“He was not driving. My drunk, lousy, no good son was. He made Damon tell the police that it was him who wrecked the car because he was a minor and mostly, he wasn’t drunk. He has always blamed himself because he couldn’t get Eddie to pullover and let him drive.” Oh no. I lean forward clutch my aching stomach. I feel like I may be ill. He didn’t do it. It’s not his fault.
“How could he think…How… It’s not his fault.” I cross the room and sit beside Grams. She puts my shaking hand in hers and lets me sob for a moment.
“I have to see him. I have to talk to him!” I begin looking around for car keys then she thrusts out an envelope to me.
“He isn’t answering and no one knows where he is. Open your letter maybe he has told you where he went.” I snatch the envelope from her hand and rip it open.
My Josephine,
I should have been smarter that day, I should have been braver. I should have stopped him at all costs. If I had, maybe none of this ever would have happened. You never would have been hurt. We could have met and spent our lives together. You must know that I have spent countless days thinking of how I could have changed the outcome of that summer day so long ago. Had I known how things would turn out, I would have done anything to spare you and your family from the tragedy for which I hold myself responsible. He wrecked more than cars that day. He wrecked your life and mine in the process. And, I was the only one who could have stopped it all. I would take their place if I could. I would do anything that would bring you happiness. I will make sure that I am but a memory to you. You won’t have to endure the pain of seeing me again. The anguish I saw in your eyes four days ago was far more than I could ever bare. I can only hope that perhaps one day you will be able to look back on us and smile while recalling the passion we shared. Those are memories that torment and comfort me, all at the same time. When you were mine, you made everything better. You made my life better. You made me better. You have been my medicine. You made the hurt disappear. My past is one that I can never escape. I know this now. Please know that I would do anything, I would give anything to make things right. I want to thank you for giving me the greatest gift I have ever known. For what seems like a fleeting moment, I lived in the bliss of your affection. To never know that bliss again is an agony that I cannot endure. My heart is forever yours, Josephine. I love you.
-Damon
PS. You get it all.
My eyes bulge and water. What does he mean he won’t see me again? What does he mean I get it all? Get all of what? My heart pounds so hard in my chest I can barely breathe. Grams pulls the letter from my hand and reads it. I jump from my seat and start searching for shoes. I grab the nearest pair of sandals and strip down right there in the living room in front of her. I pull a clean shirt over my head and shorts up my legs. Where would he be? I have no clue where to even start.
“The accident,” she mutters while staring down at the letter.
“What?” Her silver haired head lifts to me and I see tears swimming in her eyes.
“The scene of that accident. He use to go there and park along the shoulder to sit. He’d sit there for hours until I would come find him. You have to go get him.” Without hesitation I grab keys from the coffee table and run out the door. I jump from the top step to the bottom and nearly bust my ass on the walkway. I scurry to Sutton’s car and start the beast up. I know where the scene is. I have been there a thousand times too. I used to go sit there and be miserable thinking about Maman and Papa. And the boy who pulled me from that car. I thought of Damon all these years. He has been in my head for so many years. I never forgot the big boy who kept saying how sorry he was and that he would make sure I was okay. He did too. He made sure I was more than okay. He found me again that day in the book store and it’s like everything changed in an instant. I have to find him. I have to tell him that it’s not his fault. I have to tell him how much I love him.
I speed and drive carelessly to the outskirts of town. When I turn onto the familiar narrow road my heart aches in my chest. A terrible knot forms in my stomach. Something is wrong. Something is wrong. I know it. I can feel it like I felt when Sutton died. My foot bares down on the gas and the car surges forward even faster. I haul ass down the road until I see tail lights come into focus. I lean forward in my seat and squint.
“The truck!” I drive up behind the truck and come screeching to a halt, kicking up dust in the process. I throw the car in park and jump out. I can’t see him sitting in there. There’s no one in the fucking truck! Where could he be? I run up to the truck and climb up on the running board to peek in.
“Damon!” I gasp and jump down. I jerk the door open and the scent of alcohol smacks me in the face.
“Damon! Baby, wake up!” I climb into the truck and use every ounce of strength I have to lift him from his position laying across the seat. I manage to get him upright and then realize that the best news just turned into the worst. In his lifeless hand is a prescription bottle.
“Oh shit! Oh shit! What did you do?” I scream out. I jump from the truck and run back to the car.
“Come on. Come on. Come on.” I find my phone and call for help. I don’t even wait for the dispatcher to say anything.
“Please help! We are on Scenic Loop! There’s been an accident. Send an ambulance!” I run back to the truck and jump in.
“Oh please baby wake up!” I slap his face a few times, but he doesn’t respond. I thrust out two fingers and hold them to his neck, then to his wrist.
“No. No. No. Damon!” I lay his heavy, limp body across my lap and rock back and forth.
“Please no! Not you. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. I love you! Please, Damon!” He doesn’t respond and I fear that he is really gone. This is my fault. The blame and guilt is immediate and crushing. This must be how he has felt for years. My poor Damon! My lip quivers as tears poor from my eyes.
I hear the ambulance arrive and doors slamming.
“Ma’am, we need you to move now.” I slip from under him and his unresponsive body lay in the seat. A police officer grabs me up and drags me back.
“Damon! Please! Wake up!” I watch helplessly as they pull his body from his truck and lay him on a stretcher. One paramedic straddles his body and starts resuscitation efforts. The other two paramedics haul the gurney into the back of the ambulance with the one paramedic still working on Damon.
I met him right in this very spot under horrible circumstances so many years ago and now, I may have lost him in this same spot. I can’t lose him. I would never survive a life without Damon. I fall to my knees and the pain of the pavement beneath them is isn’t even a blip on the radar compared to the ache in my chest. I watch the flashing lights of the ambulance fade into the distance. I remain staring, paralyzed with shock and fear. I can’t lose him. I’ve only just found him.
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J.L. Mac is twenty-six years old and currently resides in El Paso, Texas, where she enjoys living near her parents and siblings. She was born and raised in Galveston, Texas, until she married her husband in July of 2005. She has two young children and is married to a soldier in the United States Army. J.L. and her family have lived all over the United States and have enjoyed each new experience in each new place. J.L. admittedly has had a long and sordid love affair with the written word and has loved every minute of it.
She drinks too many glasses of wine on occasion, and says way too many swear words to be considered “lady-like.” J.L. spends her free time reading, writing, and playing with her children.
Whoever said that road rage precipitates nothing but bad things? I would have to disagree. Wreck Me was conceived of Hulk like road rage and asshat holiday drivers. This story was born amidst dense traffic, a barrage of swear words, some less than civilized sign language, and honking horns. I would like to give a particularly big thanks to the jerk-wad in the Mitsubishi. Thanks for the inspiration you stop sign running penis wrinkle!
Aside from the above mentioned joker, and my Hulk tendencies, I have to attribute my determination to my many friends, fellow authors, and bloggers. You all are simply incredible. I could not and would not be a writer without the support you give so selflessly.
Justin, love of my life. Handsome charming man of mine. I love you with a wholeness that is incomprehensible. Any efforts of defining the depth of my love and adoration with words is simply futile. They all fall short.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
About the Author
Acknowledgements