by L.J. Shen
I smacked my lips shut and stared him down, trying to figure out if I was hungover, drunk, or in that sick space in-between. I drank so much that weekend I constantly felt like throwing up. I didn’t remember when my last meal was, but I was pretty sure it didn’t stay in my stomach after all the late-night puke-fests I was throwing for myself.
“I was drunk ninety percent of the time. A high-functioning drunk, mind you, but I don’t recall a day between the ages of twenty-two to twenty-eight when I wasn’t tanked-up. Even at work, when I couldn’t risk smelling of whiskey, I would get into the bathroom and drink Listerine before important meetings. I was far worse than you, Dean. Far worse.”
“Well, you’re good now,” I muttered. Mature as a fucking toddler. Was I a class act or what?
Dad took the trash can—threw it through the motherfucking window like a rock star—then went ahead and took another one from the bathroom, filling it with more bottles and cans of alcohol.
“I’m well, because I had a wake-up call, Dean. You know when?”
“Enlighten me, Master.” I talked back just for the sake of talking back, and it wasn’t funny or adorable on a fucking thirty-year-old. Dad must’ve shared the sentiment, because he shook his head and continued.
“It happened when one time I came home late from work, crawled into my bed drunk and disorientated, and made love to my wife. Because when I woke up the next day, I remembered that Helen was not even supposed to be in Birmingham. She went to visit her mother in Fairhope. So I looked to my right and saw her sister. I looked to the woman sleeping beside me, and I knew I’d fucked up my whole life, as you like to call it.”
That made me sit up straight.
“She tricked you?”
“Well, I think we both know that Nina wasn’t the type of woman to allure me.” Dad looked incredulous. Guess not. Nina was the exact opposite of Helen, my mom. She wore skimpy clothes, chain-smoked, and flirted with everyone and their cat. My mother was country-clubbish and yuppie, her hair always looked like she just walked out of a woman’s magazine, and she was reserved and polite, but never overly friendly to men.
“But, Mom.” I held my head and shook it in disbelief. My mother took bullshit from no one. This was why my sisters and I were well-behaved. She knew how to hammer it home, all right, when she wanted to. “She told me she wanted to divorce you. How the hell did you pull it off?”
Dad bobbed his head, throwing the second trash can full of drinks through the window as well, before turning his head to face me. “Baron is picking up everything I’m throwing out, and so you don’t have access to it, I will be taking your wallet and making sure your fridge is filled with food. You’re detoxing starting today, Dean.”
Vicious is here? What the fuck? I really did hit rock bottom this time.
“About your mother—no, she did not forgive me. Not at first, anyway. When I saw Nina in my bed and she told me what happened, I was mortified. I kicked her out and called Helen. She cut her trip short and got back home. I came clean immediately. She packed me a bag and threw me out.”
Despite my best intentions, a smirk formed on my face. “Good for Mom.”
I was the bastard child who was rooting for the cheated woman.
“She made me pay, that’s for sure. I slept in my office for those nine months. Helen sent me so many half-filled divorce forms my mailbox got clogged. Nina ran away. I tried to find her but couldn’t. She went under the radar, and it was a different time. Easier to disappear. No Internet and things like that.” Dad tucked his hands into his pockets and looked out the window, his brows wrinkling. “Your mother filed for divorce two months before you were born. It wasn’t even about the cheating.” He laughed bitterly. “Because trust me, I had no clue what I was doing when I slept with Nina. Don’t remember one second of it, thank God. She was just tired of my problem, and my lack of motivation to fix it. She deserved better, and she knew it.”
“Then what happened? Why did she change her mind?” I was still sitting at the table. Things becoming clearer somehow. The story started to make sense. Not a lot, and not completely, but I didn’t feel quite as lost as I had been feeling the past few years about the whole Nina ordeal.
“You happened.” He turned around and smiled at me like I was Sirius, which couldn’t have been right, because Rosie was Sirius. But every person has their own Sirius in their life, I suppose. The one that shines brighter than the rest. “You were born, Dean. We found out about you through the news. “The Walmart Baby.” Your mother knew instantly that it was Nina. Wasn’t hard to figure it out. She called me, and we drove together to the hospital where they had taken you. Your mother wanted you so bad, she was willing to give me a second chance. Said you deserved it all, even though the woman who brought you into this world didn’t.”
“I don’t understand.” I shook my head. “You made me spend time with Nina and Owl. Almost every summer. All summer. Damn, Dad.” I stood up, pacing back and forth. “Owl was the one who gave me my first blunt at twelve. Nina gave me my first sip of beer when I was fucking nine.”
“Language,” my dad instructed, and I rolled my eyes, feeling like his son just a tad more than I did when I stormed out of that café. “We had a little arrangement with Nina. Mainly because providing you with a safe, stable life was our main concern. She wanted to see you in the summers, and we complied as long as she was sober. That was the condition. Nina got paid for the time you spent at her house. The money was supposed to go to trips, clothes, things like that. We weren’t stupid. We knew that she pocketed the money and saved it for herself. But we hoped the time with you might inspire her to get better. Like it made me stay sober and grow as a human being.”
“Only Nina is not a human being,” I finished for him. He shook his head, and I wasn’t sure if he agreed or disagreed with that statement.
“Everyone’s human. Some people are more human than others. Nina made many mistakes along the way, but I made one of them with her. And you make mistakes, too. Mistakes that will have grave penalties if you continue down this path.”
I had nothing to say about that. It wasn’t about Nina anymore.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I ran a hand over my hair. “Why did you let me pay her? Why did you meet me on her terms? It makes no fucking sense.”
“But it does, Dean. It makes perfect sense.” He took a step closer to me, and we were face-to-face now. Same height. Same hair. Same eye color. Fuck, how could I not have seen that earlier? My father and I looked exactly like one another. That was why people never asked if I was adopted. Because I wasn’t. Not fully, anyway.
“I didn’t know if you wanted to know your father or not, and I left it for you to decide. I knew that if you really wanted to see me, you would shell out the money. It’s not a big deal for you—the money—you have more than you could ever spend. So it wasn’t something that I was worried about. But if you didn’t want to know, if you weren’t ready to face this truth, and I served it to you anyway, I wouldn’t have given you anything. I would have taken something from you. Your choice.”
I looked down at my feet.
“I wanted you to choose to know me, Dean. But in the meantime, I tried, son. Every time we’ve met since you became an adult, I tried tipping you off. I even wanted to come clean on Thanksgiving night, but you never dropped by.”
My jaw locked, and I felt something I hadn’t had the pleasure of experiencing in a long time. Relief. Things made sense now. I was still angry as fuck at my dad, and I still loathed Nina with enough hatred to last for a few generations. Nothing got fixed. But at the same time, at least I had my answers. And in a sense…my peace.
Nina no longer had leverage over me. My biological dad turned out not to be a junkie or a criminal or an asshole. He was a man I knew and loved. It just so happened that he crushed me, and I needed to step away until I would forgive him.
And I would.
But not right now.
“So this brings me to the real
topic I came here for.” Dad put his hand on my shoulder, and I looked at it like it was a giant cockroach.
“Spit it out and leave,” I told him.
“Rosie,” he said.
“What about her?” I asked, my heart beating faster just from hearing her name again. Being away from her was like having my flesh torn from my body. The kind of longing that wasn’t sweet and romantic, but threatened to tear my fucking guts out.
“It didn’t escape me that you and I had the same sister problem,” Eli said, walking me over to the window, his hand on my back. I let him, waiting to see where he was going to go with it. “My drinking almost killed my relationship, but, ironically, it also saved it. And it also gave me one of the most important things I have in life. My son. I’m afraid that you won’t be as lucky as I was. Rosie is sick. Very sick, from what I’m hearing. Time is not on your side, and you cannot afford to wallow in self-pity. That’s the one thing money can’t buy you, Dean. Time. So I suggest you go to the hospital right now and start your groveling, because there’s a long way to go.”
“They won’t let me see her,” I said, just as Eli pointed at the parking space. Vicious was standing there, leaning against his rental Audi with his arms crossed, looking directly at my window.
Right next to my parents’ Volvo.
Goddamn adorable asshole.
“Your friends want you to get the girl. Your father wants you to get the girl. Your mother will probably kill you if you don’t get the girl. So…are you going to get the girl?”
“I’m going to get the girl,” I muttered, transfixed on the vision of Vicious doing something nice for once in his goddamn life.
“Even if it means you need to stop drinking?”
“Even if it means I need to stop living,” I corrected, breathing hard. “Yes. I’m getting the girl.”
I grabbed my coat from the hanger and bolted through the door, leaving my dad to sit there, surrounded by oracle silence.
I am coming to get you, Rosie.
What makes you feel alive?
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.
EVERYTHING HURT.
I couldn’t even distinguish what ached less and what burned more. My whole body was a knot of agony. There was an oxygen mask clasped over my face. I looked over to the nightstand beside my hospital bed and saw a little makeup mirror Mama must’ve left behind. Picking it up with the remainder of my energy, feeling its weight on my fingers, and checking my reflection through sleepy eyes…I looked yellow. Had my liver stopped working?
I wanted to cry, but I was too physically exhausted.
I wanted to scream, but it felt wrong to do something so vivid when I felt so lifeless.
And I wanted Dean, but he was not here.
He made the last few months the best of my life, so it was only fair that he contributed to the ending of it.
There was no one in the room, but I did hear muffled voices behind the door, in the hallway. I didn’t know how long they’d been there, but there was always someone with me. Tending to me. Whether it was Mama, Daddy, or Millie. No one spoke to me about moving back to Todos Santos, and for once in my life, I felt sad about that. Not because I wanted to move back, but because I knew they didn’t believe I would survive long enough to have the option.
Elle came for two visits, but it was difficult for her to make the trip from New York to the Hamptons, so she never stayed too long.
I waited. Impatiently. Tapping my fingers over my thighs on what was supposed to be a sigh, but no air came out of my lungs. Staring at the turned-off TV, I didn’t know how much time passed, but I did notice it was nighttime. Nights in the Hamptons were very different than in New York, I pondered as I stared out the window. Less pollution. More stars.
Where the hell are you, Earth, and are you doing okay?
It was annoying. To sit there and wait for someone to put me out of my misery and boredom. Sitting by myself did not make me feel good. In fact, it opened a door to that dark place inside my head. My anxiety attack returned in full swing. I mean—why not? My boyfriend was ignoring me, wherever the hell he was. I was clearly doing bad. The doctors said very little, and Dr. Hasting kept asking me to get some rest, as if I was planning to run a marathon this Christmas.
You are going to die.
Disappear. Suffocate, in a grave.
He will move on.
And find another girl.
He will move on.
And it won’t be you.
He will move on.
But it won’t hurt. Nothing will anymore. Because…you’ll be gone.
A sharp knock on the door stopped my thoughts from swirling in my head. The intensity of it suggested that whoever was behind the door had been trying to get my attention for long minutes. I knew it wasn’t my parents or Emilia, because they never knocked before they came in. I didn’t want to be filled with hope, but couldn’t help myself either.
“Yes?” I cleared my throat, biting my lip to suppress a cough. My eyes clung to the door, desperate, begging for it to be him.
The door opened.
And someone walked in.
It wasn’t him…but it was second best.
I didn’t say a word to Vicious as he maneuvered the vehicle through the rain on our way to the hospital. He parked, walked around, opened the door for me, grabbed me by the collar, and threw me against the nearest wall, growling in my face. That caught me off guard, and my mouth hung open.
“What the fuck, Cole? I thought you said you had this shit on lock. She is dying.”
“I know,” I hissed, pushing him away. The weight of my actions threatened to crush the remainder of my sanity. It clutched my lungs, preventing me from getting all the air she couldn’t breathe. “I fucking know, okay? I’m trying to make it right.”
“Stop drinking,” he barked, but there was no need for him to tell me that. I already knew my love affair with alcohol was over. It was over the minute Rosie told me she would take care of me. All I ever had since were relapses brought on by circumstances.
But no more relapses.
No more fucking up.
From now on,
I was going to be good. If there was someone to be good left after this was all over.
“So let me tell you what happens now, Ruckus,” Vicious spat my childhood nickname, his breath fanning my face as his hold on my collar tightened. I let him have his moment. I kicked his ass on a weekly basis when we were teenagers. I got it. I fucked up. Atonement was in order.
“I’m going to help you. One time. One, fucking time, and you’re not going to make me regret it. No. You are going to go up there, and you are going to apologize. To her, to her parents, to Millie. To the fucking nurses, the receptionist, and the guy who cleans the windows. To everyone. Because you. Fucked. Up. You fucked up so bad, and other people had to fly across the country to clean up your mess. Understood?”
“Save the bullshit, Oprah.” I pushed him away, striding inside the hospital. “I know exactly how bad I ruined things, and while I appreciate you being on my side, I know how to make this right.”
We passed by Millie, who was getting herbal tea from the Starbucks under the hospital. Vicious stopped and jerked his chin in her direction.
“Make peace with her.”
“We were never at war.” My eyes were sunken, tired. I didn’t have time for Millie. I was at the phase where I wanted to make things right, not dwell on the past.
“This is pointless, Dean. Rosie will never take you back without Millie’s blessing, anyway. So just do it.”
Reluctantly, I approached my high school girlfriend, who looked very pregnant and very pissed off, sitting at a table at Starbucks, sipping her tea. Vicious waited outside and pretended to mess with his phone. Asshole.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hi,” she said.
We never talked anymore, Millie and I. There was no anger there, though. Just indifference. We made small talk when we spent Thanksgiving togethe
r, and I even helped her with the dishes, but we mainly stayed away from one another.
“Tell me something, Dean. Do you love my sister?” Her blue eyes searched mine. I sucked my anger in, refraining from losing my shit.
“She’s my whole fucking world,” I admitted.
“Then why did you let her down?”
“I was selfish.”
“My sister can’t be with a selfish man.”
“I will change.”
“What if you can’t change?”
“Vicious did,” I snapped. “Vicious changed, for you. Look, Millie, I like you. I do. Always have. But Rosie…Rosie is it. Whatever you think Vicious is capable of doing to be with you—I can do that, probably more, to be with Rosie. It was one little fuck-up. I learned my lesson.”
It was her turn to be thoughtful and blink away tears. “I’m scared,” she admitted, biting on her lips. “So scared.”
“Me, too,” I said.
We hugged. Hard and long. I counted the seconds, the seconds I was away from Rosie. But when Millie finally let me go, I knew it was with her blessing. I thumbed away a tear on her face.
“I really love her,” I said.
“I know.” She nodded and laugh-cried. “God, how were we even together?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Everyone wants a piece of me, I guess.”
She punched my arm.
“Show her that you love her, Dean.”
I was going to, even if it was the last thing I was going to do.
It was the eighth time I walked to her room since she was admitted into the hospital three days ago, hoping she was awake and her parents were feeling generous enough to let me see her. Machines were beeping lazily from the rooms along the long hallway. Nurses in blue uniforms hurried past me, their shoulders brushing mine as they flipped through their reports. Vicious was by my side. We rounded the corner. Four doors down from her room, I stopped. Vicious halted next to me.