by A. C. Bextor
Her voice doesn’t hold the same soft tone for me it once did. She’s letting me go, and this is her version of goodbye.
“You went back to those whores, even after being with me. Choosing that life, instead of ours. I was left there like the trash you said I was. You will never know what that did to me, ever. Saddest part about all of this is that I don’t even really know why you did it. I’ve been so scared to ask myself why you decided, in seconds, that you didn’t want me. My mind thinks it’s because I wasn’t enough for you. One woman for you will never be enough; I made a huge mistake thinking that I would have been.”
Her words are damning and absolute. I can’t deny anything she’s telling me. This is how she sees me. Her face is sad, and her shoulders are dropped in defeat. Seeing Mace look this alone and conquered is tearing me up.
“I’m sorry we ever got involved. I will never be sorry enough. When I lost you, I lost someone who was as big a part of my life as Hem and Sadey. I even lost some of myself in the process. Don’t think I don’t think about that. I have those regrets on top of knowing why you left me. It has damaged me.”
She’s wrong. Her words are wrong. She hasn’t got a clue how I really feel about her, and it’s my fault. All her life I’ve been able to talk to her about anything, but when it’s ‘go time’ - I freeze. If this is it, I need to lay it out, so she doesn’t forget me or all we had. She has to know that she’s why I’m living and breathing. I just hope I can find the words. Before I begin, I see her bend over, hands to her knees.
This is hurting her as much as it’s killing me. Her heart is breaking, the same as mine, and an audible cracking sound is calling out for the dark to surround us.
“You think you’re not enough for me? Is that really what you believe? You don’t think enough of me to believe that I could never fuck anyone else after you? God, Mace, I couldn’t. I wanted to hurt you; that’s what you should be angry and pissed off about. I intentionally hurt you, yes. Fuck, I’m guilty. I have no excuse and no reason, other than I was hurting. That is what just the thought of losing you does to me, makes me fucking crazy.”
Please believe me, Mace. Look at me. I’m yours. Please, don’t break us.
She’s hesitant, but willing to listen, so I continue. “Can you imagine what I’m feeling right now, knowin’ you’re walkin’ away? Fuck me, Mace, you’re runnin’ away. I saw you with Gunner when I walked in from what happened to Ace. I was already reeling after what Hem allowed to happen to him. Just before seeing you standing close to Gunner, one of the brother’s bitches could not wait to tell me you had kissed Gunner just before you went out to us. You fucking kissed him, damn it. After everything that happened with Ace, and how he confessed his love for Sadey, I was already on the edge of mis-trust. I didn’t even process what that kiss could have meant. I know you love me, Mace. You do, and if I had just thought for a few minutes before I reacted, I would have known that whatever circumstance it was, or if it were even true, you wouldn’t have kissed him the way you kiss me.”
I’m breaking. I hear it in my voice and my eyes are heavy. She’s the reason I am who I am. I’ve lived all my life to love and protect her. There will never be another Mace. If there’s never another Mace, there’s never another link to something good – this leaves me back to who I was before, and I can’t live like that again. She has to listen.
Please, hear me, baby. See me standing in front of you. Look at me.
“Mace, it took everything I had Not. To. Kill. Gunner. So yes, I aimed to hurt you, I can’t take that back. I told both those fucking bitches to get gone, and don’t come back to the Club that night, the moment we walked out the door. I didn’t even take them anywhere; they did not set foot anywhere near my ride. I fucked up, baby. God, you’re the one person I know who is all good and pure, and I turned on you. Telling you I’m sorry is meaningless, it’s pathetic to even say. I’m sorry though. My heart aches for you, and I can’t get it to stop. Jesus… But you didn’t love me enough either, Mace. I saw your eyes when you were there the next day, and they were empty of me; you had already moved on. The very next day you had already left me. It wouldn’t have mattered what I said to try and make you stay.”
I can’t say anymore. There’s not enough words available that could convince her of my innocence or my love for her.
“I love you Shame, I will always love you. I should thank you and I know this sounds ridiculous. While we were together, you showed me what I want in my life. I want someone who loves me with enough passion to touch me, watch me ignite and then let me burn, for him. A person that I feel safe to do that with. I got all that with you, thank you for showing me what I was missing.”
Her words have cut me - deep. They are all well thought out and rehearsed. She’s recited them before this moment, which means I never had a fuckin’ chance – even before trying.
As she walks away, my body gives out, and I hit my knees. She doesn’t know this, but I’m praying to God, just as I did when I was a kid. In my silent prayers, I’m not asking for her back, though. I’m asking him to take care of her in my absence. If I don’t have Mace, I don’t have a reason to be here. Before finding her, I was existing – not living. Now, knowing what it feels like to have her, then lose her – there would no longer be a reason to even exist.
“Look what we do to each other, Shame. God, this hurts and I just don’t want to hurt anymore. We are tearing each other apart, piece by piece. I love you so much. Too much.”
I’m done. Sadness has overtaken my soul and wiped out all my memories of her. I met the love of my life when she was five and I was a lost teenager looking for a home … she’s been with me since, and I’ve used her good to fill me with all I needed to overcome a life of loneliness and regret. After having what we had together, I won’t go back to that sad, lonely, desolate person. My last plea before I let go of this life is to God – to help me find her in another life. I sure as fuck can’t live without her in this one.
“Please, Mace, don’t leave me alone.”
~~~~~
Sadey Lyons was the reason we found each other again. Early pregnancy complications triggered Mace into rethinking our separation. That night, I told her I loved her, for the first time in her life. The words came easy and she accepted them without a second thought – I should have said them years ago.
Life was easy for us after that … for a while. I could always feel the air, sensing something amiss – something was bound to shake our lives again. I just had no idea how big that something would be until it was too late to stop the motions of mayhem.
Chapter Twenty-Four
"In different degrees, in every part of the town, men and women had been yearning for a reunion, not of the same kind for all, but for all alike ruled out. Most of them had longed intensely for an absent one, for the warmth of a body, for love, or merely a life that habit had endeared. Some, often without knowing it, suffered from being deprived of the company of friends and from their inability to get in touch with them through the usual channels of friendship—letters, trains, and boats. Others, fewer these ... had desired a reunion with something they couldn’t have defined, but which seemed to them the only desirable thing on earth. For want of a better name, they sometimes called it peace."
-Albert Camus
Hem had died, or so we thought. His sacrifice for his family had changed us irrevocably. Time wouldn’t stop for Sadey, giving her what she needed to grieve – Hem’s son was coming, whether Hem was here or not.
I was holding Patrick in my arms. Sadey had only met him briefly after delivery. It took everything in her to bring him into this world safely. Not because of any pain, medical complications, or physical exhaustion that labor causes, but because Hem wasn’t there. She took one look at Patrick, and it was as if a veil of sadness had curtained her face, and all she saw in those small eyes was Hem. She didn’t recognize herself in her son, at all. Immediately, she cried tears of anguish and regret. Her confessions of a broken spirit ha
d taken its toll on both Mace and me, and we were powerless to help her.
Relating to her sadness and despair, I tried to help. Even without knowing it, many times I relied on those girls to give me a reason for being here, and it killed me, not being able to help her through this. When I recognized that shattered look of loneliness and regret in Sadey’s eyes that morning, I knew that she was soon going to be too far out of reach, if she didn’t find a reason to move on. She had Patrick to take care of, and Mace relied on her heavily to get her to term with our son, Ryder.
Mace wasn’t getting through to her. Neither was I.
~~~~~
“Sadey? You awake?”
Her head is turned toward the window, and her hospital room feels clinical; void of any emotion. The window curtains are drawn closed, but she continues to stare, as if she sees something beyond them.
Whispering gently, I approach her as I hold Patrick in my arms and against my chest. “Sadey, I have Patrick. He’s going to be hungry soon, sweetheart.”
She doesn’t acknowledge me. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I walk towards the window to get her to focus on Patrick and I. Mace will be here soon, and if I can help Sadey mask her sadness for my girl, I will.
She looks sick, as if she belongs here for another reason. Her face is pale, her lips are chapped, and the sorrow surrounding her is palpable. Her body is so small, even after just giving birth to Patrick. Her eyes are glazed in tears, and her nose is red. She doesn’t look like she’s slept at all, and I’m unsure she even notices I’m standing in front of her. She’s so frail that I’m finding it difficult to continue looking at her. This is just the outside. By now, her insides have to be shredded and unrecognizable.
I put Patrick in the plastic crib by her bed. Rubbing his face softly with my finger, I brace for my own sadness to come later. Although Patrick arriving safely to us is meant to be a joyous occasion, behind that façade lurks the heartache of knowing Hem is alive somewhere inside him, but can’t be reached. Getting his mother through this is what’s most important right now.
Sadey’s eyes aren’t following my movement; they just continue to stare forward. Walking to her quietly, I run my hand over her brow, hoping the warm touch of my skin brings her around to the living, and after a few quiet moments, it does.
“Shame?”
“Yeah, baby?”
Her voice is so small and broken, and nothing of what a new mother’s should sound like. “He’s not here. I need him. I can’t hear him in this room. I want to go home. He’s with me there. Please, take me home.”
“Sadey, you’re going home tomorrow, remember? Doc just wants to be sure you’re alright … after everything.”
Sadey shudders, remembering her refusal to push during delivery. She had been so strong during labor, but once her version of reality finally hit - that Hem’s boy was coming and his dad wasn’t - she gave in to her sadness and refused to do this without him.
“Okay.” She turns her head from me and looks to the door of her room, willing it to open, but it doesn’t happen. She whispers quietly, and her voice cracks, making it hardly audible. I’m unsure if she’s talking to me or herself. “He’s never coming back.”
I’m trying to tread lightly due to her state, but she’s so shattered I don’t think it matters anymore. “No, honey. He’s not. I’m sorry.”
Turning her head back to me, she asks. “Where’s Mace?”
Speaking as softly and gently as she is, I answer. “On her way. She’s stopping to pick up ‘Joe’ then she’s coming here. She’s bringing Patrick some clothes so he’ll be ready to go in the morning.”
She nods in acknowledgement, then, as her voice shakes and tears start to fall she asks. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course you can - ask me anything.”
Drawing her hands to wipe her eyes, she whispers her words in expressive sadness. “Do you think he knew how much I loved him?”
“Oh, Sadey.” I motion for her to move over in the bed so I can lay next to her. She does this, and her motions are making the tears shift in her eyes and start to escape down her face at a hurried pace. Once she feels this, a loud sob musters out, and she turns towards me to be held. “He knew. He always knew - even before he wanted to know, Sadey. I can’t promise you a lot in this whole fucked up mess, but, buddy, this … you got. He loved you the same.”
“What do I do now? With Patrick, I mean. I can’t breathe, Shame. I can’t focus. I’m afraid I’m going to let Hem down, and he’s not even here! I still have so many things to tell him. It’s like he left … and forgot to … take me with him.”
This isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation. The last few months have been full of the doubt and fear that has, understandably, settled over her. During this time, she has dissected every conversation and memory she has of him, and it’s moving her to a dark place; one that I’m familiar with, but her place is full of love that is lost, unlike mine, which was of the love I never had.
“Sadey, you’re going to get better. You’ve got a reason now. Your son is here, and it’s going to be alright.”
Just as I begin my same talk of love lost, and how eventually she’ll be alright I hear the door to her room open, and a cussing Mace comes waltzing in … all stomach, hips, and tits.
“I hate this decaf shit, Shame.”
God, my girl is ridiculous. She drops the bag she brought for Sadey and finally looks up long enough to see her best friend, falling apart in my arms.
Sadey quickly recovers … sliding on the veneer of happy in order to protect Mace. “Patrick will need to feed soon, and the doctor is coming in later for a check-in. You two shouldn’t hang around here all day. Mom is coming too, so unless you want to be taught how to feed and change a diaper, I think you two should get going.” The fake smile remains, and we’re going to give her this.
She wants time alone to process, and I’m hoping with enough time she will come around, and see that in some form Hem is still here – Patrick is an equal piece of each of them.
“I just got here! I came to see my nephew.”
“Mace.”
“Whaaat?”
Wonderful, she’s going to give me attitude. “Let’s go.”
She’s not listening. Neither of these girls listen for shit, and now that Hem is gone I’ve got no back up … none. Mace stalks toward Patrick … more of a waddle at this point. “He’s sleeping.”
Sadey stares at Mace as if Mace has all the answers that I couldn’t give her. “You can hold him. Maybe you want to feed him, too. I can’t … not yet.”
Immediately, Mace reaches the bed and bends down to hold Sadey in her arms, squeezing her for extra comfort. Sadey isn’t crying anymore, and she’s also not reciprocating the hug. I need to call Gunner and Honor so they can bring April around to keep Sadey in a constant motion. She won’t be emotional in front of them, and will have less time to think.
Mace and I are probably causing her more pain at this point. To her, the sight of Mace and I is the same as looking at one of our childhood photos and wondering where Hem was at during the snapshot, only this snapshot is permanent, and we know where he is right now. He’ll never be in one of our photographs again. Our presence alone must be killing her.
“Woman, let’s go. We can come back later.”
Mace stands from Sadey, looking down on her, and starts to play with Sadey’s hair. “You want me to stay? I will. Just you and I? We can paint your toes or watch a movie?”
“No. Will you bring me some soup later, though?” She’s pacifying Mace. Sadey is smart enough to know that if Mace feels useful anywhere, she’ll focus on that, instead of the problem in front of her.
“I will. I love you, Sadey.”
Sadey doesn’t answer or acknowledge the term of endearment.
“Mace, now.”
Mace walks to me, finally noticing I’ve moved from the bed to the door, and grabs my hand in hers as she looks back at Sadey, who has already
retreated into the window again. I don’t know what answers are beyond that view, but if there are any, if anyone can find them, Sadey can.
We don’t say anything as we walk down the hall. I pull out my phone and get Gunner and Honor on the task of Sadey. They’ll be here in twenty.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“I used to advertise my loyalty and I don't believe there is a single person I loved that I didn't eventually betray.”
-Albert Camus
Sadey didn’t get much better after she and Patrick came home. Other than her imagination keeping her in Hem’s company, she didn’t socialize. Eventually, her parents bullied her, and she sought help and seemed to progress, but she still wasn’t the girl we used to know. No one blamed her, and I trusted that eventually she would come back to us.
Mace tried to get through to her, but failed. It wasn’t until I was fed up with her lack of healing that she finally – fucking finally – started to pull her shit together. Once that process started, though, she was in for another emotional explosion. This bomb was big, and created so much havoc within her soul she almost didn’t accept it as real. She had been balancing between hours of sanity and hours spent in the world where Hem was. She could no longer comprehend the difference.
Hem was alive. I didn’t know this until Ace came strolling back into town on Hem’s behalf. He was to do two things; that’s it. Check on Sadey, and verify no one was lurking in the shadows. Hood was here to help with both. Simple and easy. What it turned out to be on Ace’s part was an epic … fucking … failure.
Hood gave me the heads up on what was waiting in California. I didn’t believe it. I was angry, hurt, confused, but also thankful. My mind was exhausted from dealing with the freefall of Sadey and chaos at the club at the loss of Hem. Hearing news like that teetered me on the edge of my own sanity.