by Ryan Michele
“Like I’d ever forget.” We kiss like teenagers on their parents’ couch in the basement. Just feeling each other, loving each other. It’s one of my favorite parts of the day. And Green does this every day since we moved in here and he had to go back to work. I love it. I love him.
Everything feels right in the world, except maybe my hair.
“Are you sure about this?” I ask Bristyl very timidly as she holds my hand, walking us into the Do or Dye Salon in town. A salon. With me. And my hair. I’m not sure about this one bit. I’ve thought about cutting it and dismissed it quickly because I don’t like anyone touching my head. It’s still a rule when I work with Princess, and Green has come to learn not to go there.
She squeezes my hand. “Yes.”
This is probably true, but I look like a busted up Barbie doll that got into one too many fights with a pair of scissors. Believe me, I performed enough ‘haircuts’ on my dolls when I was a kid that most ended up bald or with one lonely strand on their head.
I can hide the patching parts by pulling it back in a low ponytail, which has worked for a quite a while. But it’s growing out and getting harder to hide the shorter pieces sticking out. It’s been a couple of months since I came to Georgia, and I love it. Being with Green, going to school, and seeing my best friend a lot has been wonderful. Slowly, I’m coming into my own. Some days are good, some days are not so good. Some days the nightmares show up while others are peaceful and resting.
If I could erase it from my mind, that would be ideal, but it’s not possible.
“Come in!” a very flamboyant woman says, ushering us into the door and to a seat like she knew I was coming. My guess is Bristyl called her.
“I’m Lexa! And Bristyl has told me all about you!” She pulls out my ponytail then inspects my hair. Embarrassment floods me, and instantly I want to pull it back again and get the hell away from there. It’s hard enough coming out in public; then to be looked at like this, it’s too much. Not to mention the stares from the others in the place. Peopling isn’t my thing. It’s getting better, but not like this with my huge flaw like a spotlight on me.
I grip the chair. “Maybe we…”
“Ahh, ahh, ahh,” she says in a singsong voice. “You keep your little behind in my chair and let me work my magic!”
I look to Bristyl, who is smiling in encouragement at me, and all I want to do is get up and run away from this. Far, far away. Who says I can’t try cutting my own hair. The Barbies’ weren’t that bad. Oh hell, who am I kidding? Either this or buzz it, and I don’t want to do that because I will always have scars there.
Princess tells me every day that I need to be proud of them, and I’m working toward just being comfortable with them. Pride, I’m not sure will come.
Lexa is surprisingly gentle as she combs through the tangles, going bit by bit around my head. My reflection stares back at me in the huge mirror, and I see a woman who is trying desperately to get something good out of this life. I see a woman who fought to stay alive when she really just wanted to die. I see a woman who slept for weeks with absolutely no recollection of anything that happened. I see a woman who is determined.
The stylist grabs her scissors, the light reflecting off the blade. I flinch as they come close, remembering the knife that punctured me everywhere. Flashes go on repeat, and I try desperately to push them away. That isn’t my life.
“I’m sorry, dear, are you okay? You’ve turned as white as a sheet.”
Bristyl comes up, turning my head and getting eye level with me. “She’s just cutting your hair. She knows if she cuts any more than necessary, I’ll cut her.”
The woman laughs loudly. “Don’t I know it!”
Sucking in a deep breath and finding my resolve, I nod to her and watch as what’s left of my long locks fall to the floor. She has my chair turned now so I can’t see what she’s doing, but the feeling isn’t bad. If I’m being truly honest, there’s a bit of excitement there. Like this woman is getting rid of the physical reminder of what happened. It’s almost like a cleansing, like what Green did to my body.
As she snips away, Bristyl stays in my line of sight, and I feel great comfort from that. It could be minutes or hours I sit in the chair, I’m not sure. And quite frankly, I’m pretty sure I didn’t breathe the entire time. When the lady says, “Let’s take a look,” and turns my chair around, I feel that pit of the unknown dipping deep.
She turns my chair, and tears fall from my eyes. My hair is short, but about three to four inches in length. It’s styled in a way that looks super easy and makes all the mismatched pieces flow together, looking like they belong in those exact spots and this was planned.
“It’s gorgeous,” I say in awe, my hand gliding through the short locks but not feeling the patches. The soreness has gone away, but it’s still odd putting my fingers through it. Since it all flows, I’m not feeling the different lengths as I go. “Thank you.”
“Oh, dear! Anytime, anytime.” She pats my shoulder. “You give that hair some time and it’ll be just as long as it was before.”
The tears spill over my eyes. It’s like reclaiming another part of myself. Damn, I love it.
23
Green
Leah’s arms wrap around me tight, her front to my back. I reach over and squeeze her leg, letting her know I’m thinking about her as the wind hits our faces. Riding. It’s always been a passion of mine, but there’s something about your woman wrapped around you on the back of your bike that you can’t put into words.
It’s as if we are one. I tilt, she tilts. It’s natural, like she was born to be on the back of my Harley.
Every day she gets better and better, even going to the grocery store the other day to pick up a few things. She was smiling when she walked in the door, and that right there was worth a million bucks.
Having a good woman at my side is something I’ve never experienced, and I’m damn happy that Leah is that woman.
The iron gates welcome us, still tattered and worn. We ride through the small driveways, and I know the destination by heart. Turning the curve, we stop, turning the bike off and getting off the ride.
I hate that I have to come to this place to see the only blood I have. That instead of her, the stone stares back at me, waiting for me to talk. Leah grabs my hand, her hold strong. We make our way through the plots and arrive at Judith Michelle Burm. The stone is a gray and black mix with her name carved in a block font.
Leah squeezes my hand as she looks down to where my mother lay six feet under the ground. Fuck, she died way before her time. It still kills. The thoughts of watching her disintegrate before my eyes in the hospital until there wasn’t anything left of the mother I knew run on overdrive.
She would have loved Leah and been on her like a mother hen. It’s part of my life that Leah will never know, and that hurts too.
“Ma, I brought my girl today. Wanted you to meet her.” Tears well in my eyes, but I bat them away quickly. “This is Leah.”
Leah quietly says a ‘hi’ but nothing else. What does one say to a stone and grass? I still don’t understand it and I guess I never will, but I just felt compelled to stop and let her meet my woman.
“She would’ve loved you.” My hand gives Leah a squeeze. “She was a kickass mother.”
Leah’s hand comes to my chest as she looks up at me. “She is a kickass mother. Just because she’s not on this planet and you can’t physically see her doesn’t mean that her spirit isn’t around you all the time. You didn’t have to bring me here to meet her. She already knows.”
Something catches in my throat, and I choke it down. Leah’s right. My mom lives inside of me. Damn, it’s hard losing the only parent you’ve ever known. Even years later, it still burns like it was yesterday. Yes, you move on and have new experiences, but you never forget them. Little things like putting toilet paper on the roll makes me think of her. She had this thing where the paper had to come out of the top and not hang down.
Cert
ain foods make me think of her. Holidays are hard, but I have an ornament with her picture on it that I put up at the clubhouse since I used to live alone. Now, I’m sure that tradition will change.
“I just wish she was here to see you.” I shake my head and breathe out a hefty breath, pulling myself together.
“I wish that too.” She wraps her arms around me, hugging me tightly. The burn is still there, but Leah helps to soothe it.
After staying for a few quiet moments, we hop back on the bike and head south. This trip to Florida isn’t like the last. I don’t feel like I’m losing a part of me with each mile that passes; instead, I’m whole and happy. Leah turns me inside out and there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her.
We pull up to a very well-lit house with gray-blue siding and a wraparound porch. I check the address one more time and shove the paper in my pocket. Leah climbs off and hands me her helmet with me not far behind.
She visibly shakes and I wrap my arm around her, pulling her tight to me. “This what you expected?”
Leah shakes her head. “No, I thought they’d get a two-story like before.” Her voice sounds far away, and I kiss the top of her head.
The door flies open and her mom, Stella, flies out of the house and is to us quickly. She pulls Leah in and wraps her in her arms. Stella has tears falling down her cheeks. I knew they missed her, but they also knew she wouldn’t be coming back here.
Aaron, her father, comes out with a wide smile on his face and his hand out to me, which I take. His grip is firm. “Good trip?”
“The best.”
His other hand comes up and slaps me on the shoulder. “Thanks for bringing her home.”
“You should know by now that I’d do anything for this woman. Anything.”
He blows out a breath. “And those people who were at her apartment? Leah didn’t know anything when I talked to her on the phone, even though I asked many times. The police don’t know anything. I guess we have nothing left on them.” He sounds defeated and I hate that for him, but he can’t know everything.
The side of my lip tips. My girl keeping her mouth shut. Love it. “They’re taken care of. All of it is. No one will ever put a hand on Leah again.” I aim to put his mind at ease.
“Good man,” he says, then turns to his daughter. “Give me some of that.”
Leah releases her mother and embraces her father. “Daddy,” she says on a choked cry, her body shaking at the strength of it.
“Ma’am,” I greet Stella and hold out my hand.
She bats my hand away. “Now, none of that business.” She pulls me into a hug, and all I can do is reciprocate it. “Thank you for taking care of my baby,” she says into my chest.
“It’s an honor.” Her mom beams up at me and then releases.
“Alright, let’s not stand out here. Come inside and see the place!” Stella ushers us into the house where we eat and laugh. Leah too.
The food is fantastic, but sitting in their living room talking and hearing Leah laugh is the best part. She’s comfortable around them, making me realize she’s not quite there with the club yet, but she’s on the right path.
“Honey, I don’t know if this is something you want, but…” Stella starts, and my hackles go up.
“Stella! Not now!” Aaron chastises her.
“Wait.” Leah holds up two hands. “What are you talking about?”
“I don’t think this is a good time for this,” Aaron says, and since the man knows his shit, I’m with him. But I also know Leah. She’s not going to let this go.
“I want it,” she demands with finality.
Stella walks over to the cabinet and pulls out a tan box and turns around to Leah. Leah gasps, putting her hand over her mouth, and tears stream down her face.
“Baby, what is it?” I ask, reaching for her hand.
Aaron stands. “I told you this was too soon. Now look what you’ve done.”
“No,” Leah croaks out. “Give it to me please.” She holds her hands out and reaches for it. Her mother sets it in her hands as Leah looks to me, her beautiful face covered with tears. She blows out a deep breath while Stella and Aaron sit back down.
Leah starts to shake a bit, and I reach out to her leg reassuringly. I’ve got her, she knows this. Whatever in the fuck is in that box, will not make my girl cry.
“The day… it… happened.”
“Baby, don’t…”
She cuts me off. “I was coming to visit my parents. This box was with me, and I was going to store it in their house. I didn’t know why, it was just in my gut to do it. It was knocked out of my hands that day. And here it is.” She smiles, throwing me off. Now she’s happy. I’m getting whiplash here.
She slowly opens the box, and all I see are papers. About ten or twenty of them. “What are they?”
Leah smiles wider. “Your letters. They needed safekeeping and I was coming to my parents anyway, so I thought I’d bring them along.”
“Oh, baby.” I reach out to her face and caress her cheek, loving the fact that she kept them all.
“You don’t see it?”
Confusion sets in. “See what?”
She smacks me playfully on the chest. “My apartment was destroyed. If these letters were there, they would’ve been in tatters and I would never be able to read your words again. They were supposed to come here.”
Pulling Leah into my arms, I hold her tight while she lets the tears flow. Once she gathers herself, she sits back. “Thank you so much,” she tells her parents. “I didn’t even think about them because I had Green with me. But these letters are our start. Just, thank you.”
She stands and moves over to her mom and then her dad, hugging each of them.
Leah’s right. Those letters would have been lost forever. It makes me a happy motherfucker that she kept them and kept them safe. That’s my girl. This will forever be our beginning and our connection—in paper, words, and open from the heart.
Stella and Aaron stand on the stoop waving at us as we get on the bike, the letters safely tucked in the saddlebag. “I’m so happy I have these,” she says in my ear behind me.
“Me too, baby. Me too.”
“It didn’t hurt to talk about that day. If anything, it gave me something positive out of the negative, and I’m choosing to hold on to that.”
My hand goes to her knee. “Leah, I love you so damn much.”
Her smile is beautiful, and each time she gives it to me it’s a gift to treasure. “Love you too.”
At that, I fire up the Harley and we ride off. The future is bright with my girl at my side. No matter what.
Epilogue
Leah
A Few Years Later
We sit in the clubhouse off to the side, but still part of the larger group. Green has been great about everything. He doesn’t force me, but gives me little pushes to get out there in the world. I’ve been doing well though, and I feel it each time I’m able to conquer something. It’s bigger things now like going to the movies or a concert. It’s all the people around me that still bother me. I’m proud of each hurdle I face. And the strength I get from it, I suck in like a sponge.
“Thanks for talkin’ with Austyn,” Green says, squeezing my knee then leaning over to kiss my lips. “Means a lot, baby.”
“Of course. I hate what happened to her, and I’m glad to help.”
Truthfully, I’m not sure I did help. Austyn was raped and suffered greatly at the hands of a madman. She had a party at her place, and Green took me. It was nice to get out even though the tight space made me jittery. The conversation with her though, wasn’t easy because it brought all the buried stuff to the surface.
“Austyn,” Bristyl introduces, like I haven’t seen her in the clubhouse before, turning to me. “This is Leah, Green’s woman.”
I give a soft smile, and she greets me with a “Hi.” True, we’ve never been close, but we met a few times.
“Thought we could go in your room and chat,” Bristyl announ
ces before leading us to Austyn’s room. Green lifts his chin at me, giving me the all okay.
I fiddle with my hands, worry creeping in. Strength. I have that now. Talking about it will be helping Austyn. If it helps, then I have to do it because no woman should go through the level of pain that comes with being assaulted. I breathe in and out deep, gathering my thoughts and trying to come up with a way to say what I think, but to say it in a way that doesn’t make her pain increase.
Bristyl puts her arm around me. I kick myself in the ass because that shouldn’t have made me jump, but I felt it. The unexpected still gets to me. No matter how I try to curve it, if I don’t know you’re coming, it gets me every time. It’s almost involuntary.
“You don’t have to talk about anything,” Austyn reassures me, but I’ve got this. Talking about it is okay, as my new therapist says. It’s a part of my life. It doesn’t define me, but it is in my past. It will help Austyn. Yes, I’ve got this.
“It does get better,” I start. “It’s hard. There’s pain, and the fear will sometimes override you, but you need to ride it out. It’s not easy. It actually sucks, but it’s necessary. It’s been a really long time since…” I shake my head. “And I still have a hard time talking about it. But each day is better. Keep your chin up, and never let the past define who you are. Never let what happened to you take away your happiness in life, because you only get one. One life to make work for you and do the best you can. Don’t let the actions of someone else dictate how that life will be lived.”
I exhale and sit on the bed, feeling a tight ball in my stomach start to unwind. As if talking about it with someone who’s been there helped me just as much as I hope it helps her. It’s strange.
“Thank you, Leah.” Austyn sits next to me. “It is hard, and I appreciate you saying those words. Seems you need to follow your own advice.” Austyn gives me a soft smile.