Wild Cards

by R. C. Stephens

  “Nessa,” my voice sounded slow and sleepy.

  “Vick, where did you run off to?”

  “I went home with the hot guy in the Calvin Klein briefs,” I muttered, realizing that I described half the males at the party. Then my voice cracked and hot tears rolled down my face. The air was cold and I watched as my breath made a smoky circle in front of my mouth. The world felt black. I felt broken. I had lost myself. My life didn’t feel real anymore.

  “Are you okay?” Nessa asked after I had been silent for more than an acceptable amount of time.

  “No.” I managed to grit out but it was hard to speak and it was even harder to admit. I’m not okay.

  “Where are you, Vick? I’m coming. Please tell me where you are. Shit,” she breathed out nervously.

  “I’m in front of Toronto General Hospital,” I answered because despite the fact that I was choking on my words, I needed her to come. I needed her to help me get home. I felt lost and broken, two emotions I was not allowed to feel right then.

  “Shit, Vicky, something bad happened didn’t it?” she asked frantically. “Dammit, I shouldn’t have let you leave the party, we should have stuck together,” she chided herself.

  I didn’t respond because she was right, it was a big mistake to go home with a stranger. Looking back on it, I was trying to figure out what I was thinking. Was the risk involved worth the excitement? Did I really need a personal connection that badly? If I did, why did I think I could get it with a stranger?

  “Stay on the phone with me, I’m not far from you,” she said. I held my cell phone to my ear and remained painfully silent. The truth was I felt like my head was in the clouds, nothing felt real. I came to Toronto to have fun and forget for a while. The guy looked smart and handsome. He was polite…I thought he was safe. As I waited silently on the phone Nessa was quiet too, and moments later I heard her say, “I’m here, hon.” As she closed the distance between us, I could see the worry on her pale face.

  I closed the phone and Nessa walked up to me. Under the light from the street lamp I could see the tears streaking her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Vicky, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I was so busy with those men I didn’t take care of you,” she pleaded, and I didn’t understand her rash reaction.

  “It’s not your job to take care of me, but I need to get home now. I want to go to the bus station,” I responded as my entire body shook. I was not cold, only nervous and empty inside. The emptiness scared me because I felt so lost I didn’t know what to do with myself. The thoughts running through my mind were suicidal, which scared me even more. I wanted to die. I didn’t want to be left alone.

  “Hey.” Nessa put her hand on my shoulder and tilted her head in close to mine.

  The truth was, I couldn’t breathe with her arms hanging around me the way they were. The painkillers had definitely taken the edge off, but my back still stung, and I was scared of the movement doing something to open my stitches. It was even hard to sit with my ass throbbing. The doctor said that the stitches would deteriorate and that he believed there was no long-term damage, but if I had bleeding or something felt off, I should see my doctor back home. It was almost laughable. In our small town there was no way I would go to a doctor and explain what happened. I knew they have to abide by confidentiality clauses, but I would have to see that doctor all over town and worry about the judgment he would paint me with.

  “Honey, I’m so sorry,” Nessa sobbed into my shoulders. I didn’t know if she was apologizing for tonight or for showing me this new lifestyle. I couldn’t help but flinch. “What is it, Vick?”

  “My back is split open, it burns like a bitch,” I hissed through gritted teeth because the pain was that bad. Nessa’s hand flew up to her mouth.

  “Vicky, I’m sorry I let you down. Can you please forgive me?” she asked, throwing me off.

  “This wasn’t your fault. I was lonely. I made a choice, Nessa. It has nothing to do with you,” I replied, trying to reassure her, but she shook her head. The truth was that the sex clubs had been a good distraction for me. I got so worked up with all of the positive endorphins that I felt good. It was the only time I did feel good.

  “Vicky, I’ve been at this scene longer than you, there are some messed up freaks around. I should have stopped you, but I was too busy doing my thing. I’ve been alone for so long, I don’t know what it feels like to take care of another person….” she drifted off sadly.

  “Don’t beat yourself up, just please help me get home. I need to get home,” I answered her urgently. My gut told me something was happening and I needed to get home now, but we had an eight-hour bus ride ahead of us.

  “Give me your bag,” she said, taking my backpack and swung it over her free shoulder. “Let me help you walk,” she said, placing her arm around my waist while helping me forward, step by slow step. Her assistance was appreciated, but I couldn’t stop shaking.

  The sky opened up and a drizzle began to fall, it felt like the angels up in heaven were crying for me. I didn’t know how I was going to survive. Clearly Nessa had found a way, I was worried that I didn’t have her inner strength or will to survive. She was only twelve when she was left alone. I’m twenty and should have been on better footing. I should have known better than to go back to a stranger’s apartment. As the cab stopped in front of the central bus station, Nessa paid the driver and we got out. She hadn’t said a word to me, but I could tell she was worried, she thinks that I won’t be her friend anymore.

  We took the first bus back to Thunder Bay. I willed myself to get my head together because I had responsibilities to attend to when I got home.

  “Please give me another chance, Vicky, whatever you need I will have your back. I am sorry for what happened, but I don’t want you to walk away from me,” she pleaded sadly with her blue eyes circled in red rims. I had only met her three months ago when I went to a bar on the edge of town to drown my sorrows for an evening. She was the bartender and apparently I poured my soul out to her before falling asleep on a barstool. She took pity on me, and hauled me back to her room at the back of the bar, not knowing who I was or where I was from. She only knew my sad story. It was enough for her to open her heart to me.

  “I’m not pushing you away, Nessa….I just…..” I trailed off because what I wanted to say was too dark.

  “Hush.” She put her finger to her mouth. “I understand.”

  Her two words meant everything. Her understanding meant everything. If she survived what she had in one piece, then I could too. I think. She was surviving…I mean, her life wasn’t what I would call normal but she got through her days. It didn’t matter. I stopped myself from overanalyzing because she understood and that was huge. I just didn’t know if it would be enough to hold all the pieces of me together when things fell apart.

  “Thank you, Nessa,” I breathed out as the pain medicine took effect, and I was lulled into the most peaceful sleep I had had in three months.

  Chapter 2

  Luc

  Present

  I pulled into traffic in my black Aston Martin on my way to the psychiatrist’s office. I had a weakness for fine cars and women. The latter may be my downfall. As I drove here I replayed my time in Canada. The many ways I hurt Alexis, my ex-wife. The many ways I lied to her and my heart twists anew. My memories delve back even further to the day my father finally granted me permission to leave France. What a fool I was. I was so happy to be away I didn’t realize how connected I still was. Lying and cheating had been engrained in my soul from a young age, and as much as I thought I was better than my father’s goons because I understood the difference between right and wrong, I deceived myself. I deceived my ex-wife into believing I was someone I was not. I wasn’t free. The Blanchard name was like a chain of bad morals that hung freely around my neck. It made me believe that what I did with Alexis was okay. I was good to her but I fed her lie after lie about who I was. Nothing about our relationship was real, except that I tried to save her from hersel
f and her bad ways.

  As I pulled up to the psychiatrist’s building my father’s words ring clear. “You are free.” After my brother Henri shot me, when he tried to kill my ex-wife, and I stood in front of the gun trying to fight him off, I wanted to believe my father’s words to be true. Despite the fact that he sold his soul to the devil, he needed to understand that there was something wrong with one brother trying to kill the other. I run my hand over the left side of my heart, where the tattoo of an eagle is engraved on my chest, and I know I will never be free. It’s been two and a half years since I left France, and yet, I still feel like I am locked in a chamber.

  As I made my way up to my psychiatrist’s office, I took in a deep breath, wondering if there was a purpose to my weekly visits, because it’s been so long and my past still haunts me every step I take. The eagle may represent my freedom, but I had it engraved in my skin as a sign of healing not freedom, for I will never truly be freed from the chains that bind me.

  As I entered the doctor’s office, I took a seat in the armchair and settled in comfortably. I had become comfortable with Dr. Davies. He’s even become a friend.

  “Luc, you are being too difficult on yourself, I know you’ve done bad things, but you are trying to be a better person, you haven’t touched alcohol or drugs in two years. Those were two catalysts that prompted your bad behavior. You need to give yourself some credit and forgive yourself if you are going to be able to lead a normal life,” Dr. Davies argued, as he glanced at me over his eyeglasses that sat low on his nose. His skin was aged, his grey hair peeked out in spirals over his glasses, and he sat with one leg crossed over the other giving me his full attention. He’s the best in New York City, and I’ve been coming to regular meetings with him since arriving here two years ago.

  “Doctor, I want to believe your words but I had the dream again last night. I’m standing in front of Alexis at the university and she says the words, ‘The baby is gone.’ Her voice is on repeat and the more she says it, the more tormented I feel,” I explained, as the doctor nodded his head. I must have relayed this story to him a hundred times over but how can one forget a living nightmare. My ex-wife had stood in front of me, telling me that I lost control and killed her unborn child when I beat her, almost to death.

  Dr. Davies' middle-aged eyes were slightly creased and he looked at me sympathetically. “I know this is hard for you, and the fact that it is, shows how sorry you are but you were drunk and high, you can’t even remember the incident. I explained to you that you suffered from a drug induced psychotic episode, alcohol alone can cause this mental state. The fact that you added cocaine may have caused the psychosis to prolong itself. It made you paranoid and delusional, and I know you can’t remember significant events during that time but that is typical for the diagnosis. At this point it is my psychiatric evaluation, you are not a danger to the public, you know you shouldn’t drink and or take drugs. You have mentioned numerous times that the mere thought of drinking causes you to panic, and the catalysts for your previous bad behavior have dissipated…” he reiterated, referring to the fact that my family was no longer in my life to fuck with me. But I knew it wasn’t the case. I may have been given two years of freedom, but I knew it wasn’t over with them, it never will be. The moment they needed me for something, they will come knocking and I will have nowhere to run. “You even got shot protecting Alexis. At some point you will have to recognize that even you deserve salvation,” he said, pausing to gauge my reaction. Our conversations always came back to this, my need for salvation, redemption. But how do you redeem a devil?

  “You should start dating and stop torturing yourself with these sex parties you attend. You’ve told me numerous times how you always wanted a chance at a real life. I think you’ve learned from your mistakes. You need to move forward and find a relationship. I don’t think the sex parties are a good solution to your problem.”

  “The women are safe,” I insisted. It makes perfect sense. I can’t be a danger to a woman if we are surrounded by strong virile men, who could step in if I lost control.

  “They will be safe in an intimate setting as well,” he assured me.

  “I can’t do it,” I replied sternly. I looked at my clock and realized it’s been over an hour, I have a meeting to attend at work. “Besides, I haven’t met anyone I would want a relationship with. Even if I did, the thought scares the crap out of me,” I explained, pouring my soul to Dr. Davies.

  “I’m not suggesting you dive head first into a relationship, you can take things slow and see where it leads,” he suggested with a sympathetic smile.

  “Okay.” I shrugged my shoulders, knowing that it isn’t going to happen. Then I stood up to leave the office and Dr. Davies walked over to his desk to check his laptop. “See you next week Doc,” I said as I step out the door.

  Every time I left his office, I felt a smidgen lighter than when I arrived, and I always had a wide smile knowing my father would never approve of the fact that I was in therapy. He would say a real man deals with his own shit. I dealt with my own shit in the past, and it got me into more trouble than I could handle. I don’t plan on burdening myself like that ever again. I lived a legitimate life. I just need to overcome my past.

  Chapter 3

  Vicky

  Present

  “Ma’am can I get you a drink?” the cheery flight attendant asked with a bright smile. She was young, and beautiful, and blonde, the complete opposite of me, especially the cheery part.

  “Sure, I’ll take a Coke,” I responded with a sad tone. I hadn’t smiled for two years. I wasn’t going to fake a smile for the flight attendant. Fuck her and fuck the world.

  “Hey, my name is Sandy.” The girl sitting beside me smiled. Geez, what was it with all the cheery people? With her white blouse and grey cardigan sweater she looked like a good girl. She sat waiting for my response, for me to introduce myself, her brown eyes were wide and her brown hair looked perfectly groomed with little tendrils at the ends. She must have been about my age but there was a drastic difference between us, she didn’t carry the same heaviness on her shoulders that I carry. She didn’t look like she peeled herself out of bed this morning, dreading the idea of making it through another day. No, Sandy was a cheery, happy girl and I’m bent on just getting by.

  I’ve clearly left her hanging too long when I noticed her lips turned down. “Vicky,” I responded curtly, placing my head back on the headrest and closing my eyes. I want peace and quiet. I want to drown in thoughts, in memories…they are all I have now. I had no intention of making small talk with a stranger, even if she was a sweet girl. Sandy shifted her body so she was facing the seat in front of her and pulled a fashion magazine out of her knapsack. Good, she got the message.

  “Are you from Toronto?” she asked, still trying. For fucking real? I inwardly huffed. I thought I got her off my back.

  “No, Thunder Bay,” I answered with my eyes still closed and not moving an inch. Get the point, I don’t want to converse.

  “I’m from New York City. I’m heading home. I came to visit my aunt on my father’s side. It was lots of fun. I got to see cousins and family that I haven’t seen for ages,” she blabbers without pausing for a breath. All I can hear is blah, blah, blah. She really picked the wrong person to tell happy family stories to.

  I lifted my head from the headrest, clearly irritated. “Look, uh.” I paused, forgetting her name.

  “Sandy.” She nodded, her smile slowly fading.

  “Sandy, it’s nothing personal, I’m not in the mood to talk,” I snap. Then I placed my head back on the headrest and close my eyes. After a couple moments of silence I figured message delivered. Yes, relief!

  I’m headed to New York City. It was my first time leaving Canada on my own, but I thought I planned the trip quite well, considering it was the first time I had to do these things without the help of a parent. Step one was to get off the plane and take a cab to the motel I booked. With only a grand in my purse, I prayed
it didn’t cost too much to get there. I had to stretch the use of my money as far as possible and achieve the goal I came to accomplish. Maybe then I won’t feel so alone. Maybe then I’d be able to get back to the person I was before. Maybe then I could talk to normal people like Sandy. They seemed so happy, determined, and loved, everything I wasn’t.

  I wasn’t too optimistic about the outcome of this trip. My hope, along with my life, had been buried six feet under, and I didn’t think there were any prospects for change. I’m locked in this torturous cycle of finding my next fix: a way to end the pain, to fill my broken heart, even if it was for a brief moment.

  The pilot’s voice sounded on the intercom. “We will begin our descent into New York City, please fasten your seat belts.” I looked out the window at the sun shining bright above the clouds. The plane slowly descended and the city came into view. I admired the tall buildings, closely knit together. They looked like a massive Lego city I built when I was a kid. As the plane descended, the buildings grew larger and I’d never seen anything like it. Yeah, I went into Toronto a couple of times this year but this….this was bigger and fascinating.

  Leaving the plane and walking through the terminal, my heart accelerated in my chest. It didn’t feel like excitement. I hadn’t been excited for over two years. Maybe it’s fear, or uncertainty. Being alone in a big city didn’t scare me, I’ve gotten used to being alone. It didn’t matter where I went… or maybe it did. As my palms began to sweat at the thought of being in such a large city on my own, I realized that although I felt alone in Thunder Bay, there was a certain familiarity there that made me feel safe. It was the place I grew up, I knew the parks, the people, the local store owners, but none of that mattered in the end because without a family I had no one to lean on, no one to share my grief.

  As I walked off the plane and down the long hallways of La Guardia Airport, the familiar sadness I’d been experiencing washes over me once again, causing my eyes to water, but they only water. I didn’t shed a tear, because it won’t change anything. I lugged my large duffle bag full of clothes behind me as I walked up to an immigration officer and showed my passport.