She kissed him. She’s moved on.
With one last cramp, Chad vomited for the first time since detox, trying his best to contain the sounds of his heart breaking. But the walls were too thin, his retching too monumental.
“Why is Nathan texting you?” I’m ticked, and I have no right to be. It’s not Laila’s fault that he can’t take a hint. The guy’s a douche with an ego. He’s the star quarterback, and he’s had his eye on my girl ever since she got runner-up for homecoming queen.
She’s ticked too, but for completely different reasons. “That’s not the point. The point is you lied to me.”
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
“Don’t change the subject. I don’t want him texting you. He’s trying to cause trouble between us.”
“There is trouble between us, Chad. You did Ecstasy.” She whispers the last word like it’s a curse. “You promised me nothing stronger than weed.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” I reach for her arm, but she pulls away. From over her shoulder I can see Nathan at his lunch table across the grass. He’s smirking. Smirking because he comes from a wealthy family with connections, and he’s used to getting what he wants. Not this time.
I’m walking before I have time to process the two linemen flanking him.
“Where are you going? Chad, stop.” She’s chasing after me, and I hate the plea in her voice, so I stop, but I don’t want to. I want to punch someone, namely him, because the worst truth is that he would be better for her than me. Anyone would be.
She pulls me to the parking lot, knowing I’m about to lose it, and the school already said that if I get another suspension, I’ll have to repeat a year.
We stop behind Katie’s car.
“Do you want him?” I have to ask because right now I can’t figure out why this amazing girl is mine. I’m a mess, and I’m dragging her right down with me.
“No, I don’t want him. I love you.”
I feel the tears the same time Laila sees them, and she hugs me. I grip her tight, so afraid that if I let go, she’ll be gone forever, and what would that leave me? Nothing. ’Cause I’m nothing without her. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I do these things. I don’t want to.”
Lights flooded the hallway, illuminating the dark bathroom.
Panting, Chad braced himself over the bowl. “Go back to bed. I’m fine.”
He didn’t know who was in the doorway, but it didn’t matter. There was no one he wanted to see him like this.
“Is it a stomach bug?”
Oh, how he wished it were.
“No.” Chad finally felt the end of his torment, grabbed a handful of toilet paper off the roll, and wiped his mouth. He stood slowly, shut the lid, and flushed the toilet, still too embarrassed to look Mark in the eye. “Sorry I woke you. Really, I’m fine.” He turned on the faucet, cupped the icy water in his palms, and splashed his face. In the mirror, he saw Mark watching him, the doubt starting to play on his features.
Mark had a two-strikes-you’re-out policy, and based on his expression, he was definitely thinking Chad had earned his first one.
“I’m sober.”
“Probably, but I’m gonna need to make sure.”
Chad gripped a towel, spun around, and let Mark get close enough check his breath for alcohol.
“Satisfied?” he demanded when Mark bristled.
“No. You smell like rotten cabbage. But I am glad you haven’t been drinking.”
“Good. Now go back to bed.” Chad pushed past him, his mind set on one task alone. He had to get home. Tonight.
Spurred on by an uncontrollable desperation, he didn’t bother to acknowledge that Mark had followed him into his room. His duffel was under the bed. He grabbed it in one fierce tug and unzipped the worn fabric.
Mark continued to watch, wordlessly.
“If you’re trying to figure out what to say to stop me, don’t bother.” He thrust open his drawer, grabbed a stack of T-shirts, and shoved them into the bag. “Laila met someone.” He choked on the words, felt the lingering acid in his stomach. “I’m going home before it’s too late.”
“If you have to run out of here in the middle of the night, don’t you think you’re already too late?”
Chad fisted another stack of shirts, his anger the only thing keeping him from completely breaking down. “Weren’t you the one who said I needed to fight for her? What do you think I’m doing?”
Mark crossed his arms, his stare as pointed and steady as a boxer’s in the ring. “I think you’re putting yourself in a situation where you’re going to relapse.”
“I told you, I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’re shaking. Your lips are colorless; your eyes look crazed. You’re panicking.”
Again, his gut twisted, but he dismissed the ache, along with Mark’s words. Two more trips to his dresser and he had his duffel almost full.
“So what happens next? You just walk out on your job? Don’t even give your boss notice? You hop a bus, show up at her house? Let her see you’re exactly the same as you were when you left?”
Chad froze. “I am not the same.”
“Right now, you are. This behavior, it’s erratic. It’s these kinds of moments that make you fall right back into the pit you’ve crawled out of. What you need to do is calm down. You need to take five minutes and think rationally, instead of reacting.” He inched closer. “I’ve been here, Chad. I’ve blazed a fire trail to my ex-wife’s house. I’ve beaten down the door; I’ve demanded a second chance. It doesn’t work. It’s not what they want to see.”
Closing his eyes against the pounding in his head, Chad collapsed onto the bed. “I can’t lose her,” he whispered. Yeah, they’d been separated, but she had always been there, in his head, in his blood. They were connected. It was why he’d never taken off his ring, why he’d never touched another woman, no matter how far gone.
“Take a few days. Talk to your boss. Calm yourself down. Then go to her, rationally. Let her see the man you’ve become. Not the one you used to be.”
The panic was still there. The grief, loss, fear, and even anger still lingered through each of his veins. Yet, with a voice he barely recognized, he told Mark he’d wait and honor his obligations.
Mark knelt by his bed, took one of his shaky hands in his, and did something no man had ever done in Chad’s life—he prayed for him. For strength, endurance, and reconciliation.
And for that span of a few minutes, Chad clung to the hope that this God Mark believed in might actually be listening.
CHAPTER 9
The twenty-minute drive to her mother’s current double-wide seemed longer and ten times more daunting this time. Usually, Laila enjoyed this part of the winding highway, the one reprieve in her otherwise miserable monthly obligation. But today, the road seemed never ending, and every inch of her felt edgy and electric.
She’d joined Sierra’s group during Kids’ Bible Club that afternoon. Watched as the little girl stared, then studied her own hands, then stared some more. She hadn’t participated in the life-sized tic-tac-toe game or worship time, but she did stay. Even after the program was over, she remained by Laila’s side until they walked over to Kim together.
With teary eyes, Kim had asked if Laila would be willing to help, noting that her granddaughter’s budding interest in Laila was likely because of her resemblance to the girl’s mother. Kim admitted she was willing to use any inroads to draw Sierra out of the fog she’d been living in.
“Of course,” Laila had said, but something about seeing that spark of hope made her viciously angry.
Why children felt that desperate need to love unspeakably selfish parents, she’d never understand, especially since she too seemed to fall into that category. Or at least, she had for the last twenty-seven years. Maybe she always would.
A buzzing from the passenger seat pulled Laila from her tumble into bitterness. She grabbed her Bluetooth earpiece, relieved by Katie’s dis
traction.
“Hey,” she said, adjusting the speaker in her ear. “Sorry, I meant to call you back earlier.”
“It’s fine. I just wanted to follow up and see if you were planning to come to our barbeque this weekend?”
Laila felt a sting of jealousy roll through her. Katie’s new husband, Asher, loved to host parties; he had invited at least thirty other guests to the last one Laila had attended, most of them couples with little kids. Asher had spent the night wrestling with the children in the yard while Katie watched with a sappy smile on her face. They were already trying for a family of their own.
The sting came again, sharper this time. Laila had wanted a family too. Wanted kids and a dog and a white picket fence. She’d even drawn her dream home once when they were kids. Chad had kept it and promised he’d build it for her one day.
Laila swallowed the emotion that came whenever she thought of how close she and Chad had come to being parents. “No, I’m sorry, I can’t make it. Joe put me on the schedule after all.”
Katie sighed through the receiver. “That’s the third weekend in a row. Laila, you need to take some time off. Go do something fun for once. Maybe we can plan that girls’ trip we’ve talked about. Just me and you.”
Laila glanced out the window. Trees lined the road on either side of her, boxing her in and blocking the view of the water channels from the coast. They were the only beautiful thing in this area and would end the minute she turned right.
Katie felt sorry for her. Laila could hear it in the softness of her friend’s voice.
“Yeah, a girl’s trip sounds fun,” Laila said without any enthusiasm. “I’ll let you know when I’m off again.”
“Okay . . . Laila, you know if you ever need to just talk, I’m here for you.”
“I know. Thanks.” The line went eerily silent and uncomfortable. A common occurrence these days. They’d come a long way since Katie’s return but were nowhere near being the friends they’d once been. “Listen, I’m driving and the road is getting tight. Can I call you later?”
Katie hesitated. “Yeah, sure. Be safe.”
Laila tossed her earpiece back into the console, wishing she’d never picked it up in the first place.
The smell from the nearby wastewater treatment plant filtered through her vents. She pressed recycled air and fought the urge to turn around. If she couldn’t even have a phone call with Katie, how in the world was she supposed to deal with her mother?
The same way you always do, she told herself.
The smell worsened as Laila drove over the dirt in front of her mother’s trailer and parked along the weeds. The blue plastic skirting had two new holes, out of which a litter of stray kittens maneuvered to see if she’d brought them anything. She had, because she was a sucker that way.
After tossing each cat a treat, Laila readjusted the grocery sacks in her arms and stepped onto the cinder-block stairs leading to the trailer’s front door. The ripped screen door gave a familiar hiss as she pulled it open and pushed through to the sagging plywood door.
The smell of old cigarettes and beer was the first to assault her, then the chatter of the Home Shopping Network, though no one was currently watching. Arms starting to ache from the load, Laila slid between the recliner and the couch and dropped the bags on the counter.
“Mom?” she hollered down the hallway. “I have your stuff.” She didn’t dare walk back there, not after the time Victor greeted her with only a towel wrapped around his oversized, wrinkled body.
Loretta appeared a beat later wearing a tight Def Leppard tank top and even tighter jeans. Gold hoops dangled from her ears, and her blonde-streaked hair fell just shorter than midback. Black script encircled both her thin biceps, and a pack of cigarettes was tucked securely in her exposed bra.
“My life would have been a whole lot easier if you’d just picked up my prescription while you were there.” She didn’t bother with the niceties, though Laila hadn’t expected her to.
“You know I won’t do that.” The sigh in her voice could be felt all the way to her toes. Loretta’s first love would always be a little round pill.
Her mom had been addicted to pain meds since her motorcycle accident nineteen years ago. She’d suffered a broken femur, a broken wrist, two collapsed vertebrae, and a third-degree burn on her right calf that left her with a three-inch-long scar, but more debilitating was the decades-long addiction the ten weeks of recovery had caused.
The rustling of bags and slamming of cabinets pulled Laila back to her mother’s complaints. “I only have enough medicine for the rest of the week. Now I have to figure out a way to get into town.”
“Or you could find a way to live without it.” Laila had stopped enabling her mother the first time Chad had gone into rehab. Not that it helped. Her mom always found a way to get more. She’d find a new pain clinic or some doctor in another town, one who’d believe her sad, tear-filled plea. Or she’d buy it illegally, paying money she didn’t have for the escape she needed.
“I could if the pain would ever stop.” The bite in her voice came with a quick grab of her prescription bottle. Funny how even the slightest hint at stopping sent her straight back to the source.
Laila glanced away when her mother opened the bottle and threw back two pills, then busied herself with unpacking the groceries. “When will your car be fixed?”
“Don’t know. Victor’s trying to find the parts. He’s checking the salvage yard in Brunswick this weekend.” Loretta leaned against the counter, closed her eyes, and smiled. It was enough to make Laila want to grab the bottle right out of her bony fingers. She didn’t, because her mother was unpredictable and erratic. Not to mention, she’d already tried that tactic once, and it hadn’t gone well.
“Okay. I’m going to go, then.”
Her mom’s eyes popped open. “Wait. Sit and talk to me. You’re always rushing out of here.”
“I have to work. This trip was already out of my way.”
“Your shift isn’t until seven. I called Joe myself to make sure.”
She must not have told him who she was because Joe would never disclose Laila’s schedule to the woman he called a self-absorbed junkie.
“Well, I still need to shower, and it might be nice to eat a dinner that isn’t from a fast food joint.” Laila inched toward the door while her mom closed in. The tears would come soon. The drama about her poor life, her pain, how bad Victor treated her, the fact she was trapped in the house without a car. All of it her own doing, yet she was always the victim.
Loretta’s face crumbled. “You don’t love me. My only child, and you’re just like your deadbeat father.”
Laila had heard this country song before. When she was young, she’d begged to know who her father was. Now, she didn’t even bother asking. “I do love you, Mom. I just need to get back.”
Her mom stumbled to the couch, the pills taking the effect she needed. “Back to your boyfriend, I suppose.
Laila felt her face heat, hating her small town and the gossips who seemed obsessed with her love life.
“I heard he’s the stuffy type. Not much of a looker either. Not like our Chad.” Her mother’s face remained cold and calm, her words having the exact effect Laila knew she wanted them to. “When am I gonna meet this guy?”
“He’s no one you need to worry about. It’s not serious,” Laila said, still trying to calm her sudden surge of adrenaline. She wasn’t letting her mother anywhere near her relationship with Ben.
“That’s not what I heard. I heard he had his hands all over you. I also heard that Joe was so mad that he threatened to fire you right on the spot. Seems like your new reputation might just match mine. You must be dying inside.” Her mother leaned back, satisfied. She’d always resented Laila’s choices. Resented that Laila didn’t drink or smoke or sleep around. Resented that the man she fell in love with loved her back. “Heaven forbid the world doesn’t think you’re perfect.”
Laila fought against the sting in her throat
. Her mother’s accusation wasn’t the only backlash she’d experienced. Sally at the deli counter ignored her for five whole minutes before taking her order. Monday night’s tips were abysmal, and on Wednesday, not only did Billie not ask her to marry him, he didn’t speak to her at all.
“Do you need anything else before I go?” Laila had learned long ago that engaging with her mother when she was high was as pointless as it was counterproductive.
Loretta closed her eyes and waved her hand, likely having already forgotten the callousness of her words.
Laila slipped though the screen door and trekked back to her car. The tears came faster than usual this time. She furiously wiped them away, resenting every one, and grabbed her cell phone.
Ben answered immediately. “Hey, this is a surprise.”
She forced a smile into her voice. “A good one?”
“Always. What’s up?”
“I wanted to tell you yes; I’ll go to the beach with you.”
“You sure? I thought you said it was too soon.”
He’d mentioned his parents’ beach house more than once. Separate rooms, no expectations, but a chance for them to spend more than a few hours together. Up until now, she’d always declined, finding some reason to avoid that level of closeness.
“I’m sure.”
“Okay, then. I’ll take care of the details.” He paused for a second. “Laila?”
“Yeah?”
“Will you surprise me again tomorrow?”
She smiled through her tears. “Sure.”
Laila ended the call and pushed against the weight in her chest. The ratty trailer stood in front of her, paint chipping, siding loose and drooping. The woman inside should have no bearing on her life. So how was it possible that, after all the neglect and abuse, Laila still wanted her mother to love her, just once, more than she loved herself?
But alas, that was another fantasy that would never, ever come true.
My Unexpected Hope Page 6