“Patience isn’t her thing, huh?”
“Not today.”
“I missed her too.” I tilt my head toward the en-suite. “Give me ten, I’ll be out soon.”
“Drix,” he stalls.
“Yeah?”
“Dakota’s not the only one who missed you.”
“Aw, tell Em I missed her too.”
He shakes his head and smiles. “Fuck you.”
Turning on all the lights, I head for the bathroom and let the steam from the hot water fill up the small space before standing under the heavy spray. I roll my neck and let the heat relieve the tension from my head, shoulders, and all the way down to my back. I get lost in the small luxury of having endless amounts of hot water at my disposal, sponging and scrubbing every inch of my skin, more than once.
Pressing the stainless steel handle down, the spray stops and I yank the hanging towel off the top of the glass door. Drying myself off, I step into the room and rummage through the small pile of clean clothes and find a random pair of lounge pants and a t-shirt and quickly throw them on.
“Surprise.” Three familiar yet off key voices fill the room, followed by the bang of party poppers and multi-coloured streamers launched in my direction.
“What’s this?” I ask, knowingly.
“It’s your welcome home party.” Dakota’s innocent smile lights up every corner of the room. “We’ve got some food from every place you visited, and you can tell us a story and show us pictures when we stop at each country.”
My eyes flicker between Jagger and Em who, like everyone else who meets her, are completely caught up in Dakota’s enthusiasm. “Let’s get this party started then shall we, I’m starving.”
“Wow, these places are beautiful.” Dakota taps her fingers on the keys of my laptop, flicking through all the photos I took while I was away. As breathtaking as the scenery was, there’s something oddly satisfying in being here and hearing the sliver of envy in everyone’s voices as I relay stories and show off souvenirs. It’s a constant reminder of how I took the plunge and did something so out of character.
It feels years too late, but I try not to focus on that. My hands have been tied for so long, and I did what I had to with the cards I was dealt. There’s no rush now, I just have to promise myself, at least for a while, I am a priority.
Wide eyed, Dakota stares up at the three of us, in some sort of trance. “I can’t wait to go to all these places.” Looking down at her hands, she counts silently with her fingers.
“What you doing, baby girl?” Jagger asks.
“I’ll be finished school next year, and as soon as I turn eighteen,” she points at the screen, the photo of Valletta, the capital city of Malta at sunset. “I’m going there.”
A small crease forms in between Jagger’s brows and Emerson instinctively rubs circles on his back in comfort.
“It’s a little bit early to be planning, isn’t it? What if you want to stay here? Or go to University first?”
“University,” she blanches. “I’m not going to go to University. Not until I’ve taken photos of the world.”
“You can’t do that after?” No matter how much time has passed, I still know my brother like the back of my hand, and my heart breaks for the man who just got his daughter back only to lose her to the world and have no way to stop her.
“I can. I just don’t want to.”
Jagger would never push her, or tell her she can’t go. Not when he holds so much guilt for the twelve years of her life he missed, but that doesn’t mean when the time comes, he’s going to give in so easily. The problem is, neither will she.
“I think you should just wait and see how the next two years plan out.” Letting Jagger know I have his back, I try to steer the conversation away from the inevitable argument. “You might not even want to travel, by the time you finish school.”
A loud knock dilutes the tension before it has a chance to erupt. I look at Jagger. “You expecting someone?”
“It’s probably my mum,” Dakota answers.
“I thought you were staying here tonight.” Ignoring me, Jagger heads to the door and Dakota grabs her bag from the kitchen bench and meets her parents.
“Are you ready? We need to go.” Sasha’s hurried voice travels through the house, and I bite the inside of my cheek at her irritated tone.
“Wait,” I call out a little too loudly. In two large steps I’m standing beside Jagger and staring at the woman who looks different, but her presence still suffocates me the same as always. “Hi.” My greeting is stilted and void of any affection, yet civil enough for our audience. “I have a gift for Dakota. Just let me get it from my suitcase.”
Giving me a slight nod, she drops her chin to her chest, hiding her face from me. It stings.
She steps back into the darkness. “I’m going to wait in the car.”
Speechless, I push back what just took place and retrieve Dakota’s present. Wrapped up neatly in a map of Rome, I hand her a photo book I had made specifically for her. “Open it at home,” I instruct. Filled with photos I purposefully kept hidden from her viewing tonight, I know these will seal the deal on her future plans, knowing I’ll be the mediator between her and Jagger when the time comes.
With a look of understanding, she stands on her tiptoes and kisses me on the cheek. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re home.”
“Me too.”
“I love you.”
“Always, kid.”
Leaving Jagger and Dakota to their own goodbyes, Emerson’s eyes find mine, paired with an apologetic smile I don’t understand. Choosing to ignore her, I begin to clear the dining table. Minutes of sharing the same space as Sasha and I can’t ignore the fight or flight mode my body goes into. Eight months without saying a word to her, seeing her, or breathing the same air, and it all means nothing. I want to punch something. I want to scream and throw shit around like a mad man. I just want some fucking peace.
“Drix.” Jagger’s voice cuts through my internal rage. “Can we talk?”
Eyes watch me with caution and I feel even more out of place; unease taking over the usual sense of security I’ve felt in my own place, around my own family. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, just grab a beer and sit back down. We want to tell you something.”
“Are you having a baby?”
“What?” Emerson shrieks, making me laugh. “Just sit down.”
Twisting the top off my beer, I sit in front of a fidgeting Jagger. “Spill it bro, worry isn’t a good look on you.”
Taking a quick swig of his drink, he looks from me to Emerson, and back again. “Em and I have been thinking of getting our own place together.”
“Okay,” I pause. “Not what I was expecting, but you know I have no issues with you here, and Em you’re more than welcome to live here too. Come and go whenever you please.”
“We know,” they say in unison.
“But…” I raise my eyebrows expectantly.
“Dakota.”
“What about her?”
“Sasha.”
“Shit, Jagger, what the fuck is it?”
“Dakota is always going to come over, more so maybe, because I live here, and Sasha and you—”
“There is no Sasha and me,” I cut him off.
“Exactly.” Emerson squeezes his shoulders, and he sighs and slumps back in the chair.
“I’m going to leave you both to it. There’s a shower and a bed calling my name.” Jagger looks up at her hungrily, and she kisses him with a promise of what’s to come. Forcing themselves apart, she struts away, and Jagger eats her up with his eyes.
“Just go with her,” I tease. “We can finish this later.”
“Nice try.” He smirks at me, “She’ll be waiting for me.”
“I don’t doubt that one bit.”
“Do you want another beer?” he offers.
“Buttering me up?”
“Maybe.” He makes a quick dash to the fridge and back, two bottl
es of beer before us, giving us both liquid courage.
“Look, Drix,” he says calmly. “Your business with Sasha will always be your business, but you left to get away from her.”
“I didn’t leave to get away from her.”
“Bullshit,” he says, agitated. “Eight whole fucking months, and two seconds outside and nothing is better. Nothing is different.”
“It doesn’t matter, Jagger. Dakota is non-negotiable. I will endure whatever I have to, to see her. Whether you live here or not, makes no difference.”
“I would never expect anything less, Drix.” He shakes his head. “That’s not what this is about.”
“What’s it about then?”
“I’m sick of seeing you in knots over her. She won’t talk to me about it, neither will you, and it’s killing me how much the whole thing hurts you both.”
“I thought leaving would change things, but she couldn’t even stand to look at me.” My voice cracks and Jagger’s face twists in anguish; there’s no hiding how out of my depth I am. I don’t have a solution and the notion that time heals everything is a crock of bullshit I can’t wait around for any longer.
“You know.” He runs his hand across the back of his neck before taking another sip. “She was a mess when you left.” Strangely, his revelation calms me. Knowing I’m not the only one suffering. “She showed up here one night, eyes puffy, face drawn, it was obvious she’d been crying for hours. When she asked if Dakota could stay here for a week, I knew it was bad.”
Images of me drinking everything in sight to the point where I couldn’t remember who I was, where I was or what I was doing reminds me just how bad it really was. “Something happen?” he presses.
A loud whoosh of air leaves my mouth before I drop the bomb. “We slept together.”
He doesn’t say a word, so I continue. “It was here when we had that barbeque the day before I was heading out. It was our first, and last time.”
“What?” he questions in shock. “You’ve known her your whole life, and never…”
“I’ve slept with a lot of women, Jagger, but none of them were her.”
“Fuck.” Confused, he repeatedly runs his hand through his hair. “I don’t know—” He cuts himself off while shaking his head. “Well, what happened? How were you two after?”
His questioning is warranted. He wants more, a sliver of understanding of how we got to this complicated and fucked up finish line. I wish I could give it to him. To both of us.
Tipping the bottle up, I drain it of the last few sips remaining and place it down, empty, between us. I lean forward, look my brother straight in the eyes, and admit to the obvious, hard and painful truth. “It doesn’t matter. It didn’t change a single fucking thing.”
2
Sasha
My shoulders sag as soon as I sit back in the car. The night is dark, and the air cold. The fogged-up windows hide me from anyone looking in and seeing me on the verge of a breakdown. I’ve had eight months to prepare. What the fuck am I talking about? I’ve had almost sixteen years to work out my shit, and I still can’t figure it out.
The guilt. The wonder. The want. Damn the stupid fucking want. I’ve replayed every touch, kiss and ounce of pleasure he gave me for two hundred and fifty days, and it’s been nothing but torture. I stupidly thought it was the goodbye we needed.
When I cornered him in the kitchen before he left, I thought I could rip the band-aid off and give in to the million fantasies he’s starred in and send him off with well wishes and close the door on whatever it is Drix and I were. For good.
I was wrong. So fucking wrong. It wasn’t needed. It was selfish, and I’ve been paying the price ever since. Every time I close my eyes he’s there, in my thoughts, my dreams, like a ghost I feel him everywhere, but as usual, he’s nowhere to be found.
When he left, the usual cracks in my heart were no longer small fissures I could control and fill. It broke. Whole chunks, dismantled, with serrated edges that could no longer be pieced back together. I thought I knew what hurt and loss was when it came to Hendrix, but it was really just an induction into the complete and dominating destruction of knowing what it would’ve been like to have him. Every single part of him, in every possible way.
The car door creaks open and Dakota steps in, placing a bag at her feet, she holds the gift with reverence on her lap. The drive starts in silence, as every part of me tries to recover from the small glimpse of Hendrix I allowed myself. Tonight he looked different, yet exactly the same. Freshly tanned, his body was languid, and relaxed. His eyes were a different story, the hate and hurt still burned as bright as ever. The only time he lets his guard down with me is around Dakota. I live for those moments. For years I’ve witnessed a boy turn into a man, to prove to the world that blood is thicker than water. For Dakota, he would lay his life down, and sometimes I don’t know if that’s why the pull to him is so strong. Going above and beyond, he put every injustice he suffered on the wayside for a gorgeous little girl that served only as a permanent reminder of all the reasons he and I never happened.
“Are you okay?” Dakota’s voice pulls me out of my own self-sabotaging thoughts.
“Yeah babe, of course.”
“You seem upset.” I know how observant my daughter is. I don’t know what she knows or what she thinks, but it’s the one thing I refuse to talk to her about. She’s a hopeless romantic and Hendrix is my secret for that reason alone. Knowing that my life would’ve been different if I didn’t fall pregnant, is not something I want to touch her. The guilt, the pressure, the expectation, and the potential disappointment is too much for her heart and shoulders to bear. Either way, it’s irrelevant and unnecessary. The only thing that would hurt more than a life without Drix, is a life without Dakota. She’s my everything, and I would do it all again, no questions asked. A hundred times over, I would cry a million tears, and relive every painful moment to have her here by my side. Everything about her is perfection, her heart and soul are flawless. The personification of what love is and how it feels to be loved, she’s been the bright days in my darkest times. She’s my saving grace and the older she gets, the wiser and sharper she becomes. I can’t keep much from her anymore, but this is a must. She’ll make it her business to make sure her mother gets her happily ever after, and as much as I want that for myself one day, I want her to stay in the world of teenage drama and carefree living for as long as she can.
“I’m fine. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t sleep late and you didn’t overwhelm your uncle.” With one hand still holding the wheel, I gesture to the wrapped box she’s holding, “What did he get you?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “He insisted I open it at home.”
“How was your dad, and Em?” Purposefully I change the subject, knowing how much Dakota loves speaking about her dad. It makes my heart tighten in happiness and gratitude that as a family we’re finally here.
“Dad tried to play it cool in front of Uncle Drix, but Em and I knew he’d been secretly counting down the days ‘til he got home.”
“Why am I not surprised. Your dad was always a vault when it came to his feelings,” I explain. “He would do anything to avoid talking about them.”
Rolling her eyes, she huffs in exasperation. “Aren’t all boys like that?”
“What do you know about other boys?”
“Nothing.” Her face flushes as she dips her head away from me.
“Dakota Michaels, is there something you need to tell me?” I ask animatedly.
“Nope.” She shakes her head before pensively looking out the window. “Nothing worth mentioning.”
Turning into the driveway, I switch the car off, and Dakota bolts to the front door, using her own set of keys instead of waiting for me. She’s months away from being sixteen, I’m not surprised a boy has finally gotten her attention, but what I am surprised at is her hiding it from me. Usually she can’t keep a single thought in, but I guess we all have our secrets.
; “Dakota,” I call out as I enter the house. Reaching her room, I push open the door and watch her; legs crossed in the middle of her bed meticulously unwrapping her gift. Curious to see what he bought her, I pad over to the edge of the bed and sit quietly.
“Holy shit,” she squeals. She flicks through the pages of what appears to be a book of photos. “It’s so perfect,” she whispers. “If I made myself something this is exactly what I’d put together.” She looks up at me with such adoration and delight. “Want to see?”
“I don’t want to impose.”
She cocks her head to the side, looking at me strangely. “Impose? You’re my mum, you wouldn’t know how not to impose.”
“Excuse me,” I scoff. “Are you saying I’m nosey?”
Her side eye game is strong, and I laugh. I shuffle up beside her. “You’re right. Show me what he got you.”
Dakota’s little fingers turn each page. With such delicate precision, I watch her make sure she leaves no fingerprints on all the photos. “Uncle Drix showed me all the traditional tourist type photos over dinner, but I can’t believe he knew these were the ones I would love the most.”
“You’ve given him enough photography talks to last a lifetime, how could he not know?”
Mesmerised, she silently takes in the beauty of the hidden treasures of the world. While I feel Drix’s love wash over me.
Stone alleyways, locals hanging over their balconies, people wearing traditional dress; the photos are powerful and hypnotic. They’re also the exact parts of the world we discussed going and seeing together. A lifetime ago, he and I were going to travel to every corner of the globe. Close our eyes, point to the map, and fly.
Each photo has intricate details of different churches in Jerusalem, people at festivals in Rome, and an elaborate amount of street food in Barcelona. Hendrix brought fourteen-year-old me every inch of the world, and I fall. Farther. Deeper. Harder. Madly in love with him. As if the pain, the lies and the hurt never happened, I fall like it’s the first time all over again.
Revive (A Redemption Novel) Page 2