Fiona Apple – Love Ridden
“I’m sorry, Mia.”
Those are the last words the love of my life will ever say to me. I expelled him from my life. I had to do it. There are some things that cannot be tolerated. I’m doing the right thing, but the ache in my chest is so deep, I don’t think I can breathe. I don’t think I can survive this pain.
I hate myself for wanting to chase after him and try to make this better. But it can’t be made better. He killed my father. What kind of person would I be if I stayed with the man who admitted to murdering my dad?
I hate Tax for telling me what my father did. I had wondered in passing how my dad could afford some of the niceties he had access to during the years after my mother died. My mother had life insurance, but we were saddled with a deep hole of medical bills. I just enjoyed the benefits and never put any deep thought into how he could have come upon it. My dad probably got the biggest payoff. As the local arm of the law, he had the ability to divert the investigation. The buck stopped with him. My college alone was tens of thousands a year. I did a semester abroad. He put fifty thousand down on my house. How could I have been so naive not to ask how a man making barely fifty thousand a year could afford to send me to a private college free and clear, no loans and no questions asked?
Jude only said Tax killed dad because he blamed him for not digging into the truth. If she knew more and didn’t tell me, it’s possible she was trying to sabotage us. Jude and Tax are both liars, people who never had a chance to develop and blossom like I did. The sun shined on me. I was loved, my mother nurtured me, my father protected me. I was born into a world of safety and security. Jude and Tax were born into the shadows, right in the path of a predator. Every time they reached towards the sun, the beast snapped at them. And so they have grown into warped and misshapen souls.
When torn between two liars, who am I to believe?
If what Tax said is true, then I am a hypocrite. How can I take Tax’s side, turn a blind eye to the other people who he ruined, and then hate him for what he did to my father?
How can I say he was justified in going after everyone else associated with the cover-up, but somehow exclude my dad? When Tax told me what my father did, it was like he was killing him all over again. I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t accept the fact that my father might not be the man I thought he was. Now I realize he might have been just like everyone else in Clint: if you weren’t one of “them,” then you didn’t matter.
Memories of my dad talking about how the James family were trash come to mind. I recall the cutting tone with which he would say it. He would mention how Mr. James was always getting thrown in the drunk tank or starting fights. How Sil had been caught shoplifting a few times. How they lived in the woods in a ratty double-wide. How Clint would be so much better off without trash like that. Maybe my father treated me like a princess, but that meant that he saw people like Sil as peasants.
But he was still my father. The man who held me up when I collapsed at the news that my mother had died. The man who taught me how to ride a bike. The man who coached my middle school soccer games. How can I stay with — much less love — the man who ended his life?
Tax can blame Jude all he wants. Maybe her motives weren’t pure, and maybe she omitted certain facts, but Tax killed my father. That’s the undeniable truth.
I wish I could say I hate Tax, but I can’t stop the tears from falling. There is already an empty space inside of me. I just can’t turn off my feelings for him. Even if I never see him again, I will always long for the man who killed my father, and had plans to brutally kill me.
I sit on the couch for a while, rubbing my temples to subdue the throbbing. Finally, I rise to my feet to do the thing I have been avoiding all afternoon. I walk over to the Walgreens bag on my kitchen counter and pull out the pregnancy test. My hands tremble uncontrollably.
This can’t be happening. My life can’t be crumbling around me like this. I am responsible. I run a successful company. I have never missed a day of the pill. Hell, I have a daily alarm for it. I am fucking responsible. Yet somehow, I have fallen in love with my blackmailer, the man who killed my father, and I may be pregnant with his child.
That morning I first got sick, I thought I had gotten my period. But it turned out to be nothing more than about two days of spotting. The period never came. I had the symptoms of a period: breast swelling, lethargy, moodiness. A few mornings I was sick to my stomach. I thought maybe I had a bug on top of the period. Only after being a full week late did I think that those could all be symptoms of something else.
I take a deep breath, and walk to the bathroom, just minutes away from news that may change the entire course of my life.
I stare at the blue plus sign for an indefinite amount of time. Despite all the signs, I had convinced myself this would be a false alarm. Never did I think I would have an unplanned pregnancy. That only happened to irresponsible idiots. Conflicting feelings of warmth and anguish overtake me. Tax and I have created a life. From the barren rubble of everything that has happened, grows a small sprout. Our baby.
I think back to our last moment of happiness together in my office, as I straddled Tax and rested on his chest. He asked me to move in with him. We were genuinely happy. When it’s just us, things are better than a dream. But it’s not just us, there is a sick world out there, and it has festered everything good. Tax is broken beyond repair. Is it even right to expose a child to a man like him? But I know Tax, his intentions come from a good place. They just become so twisted that the goodness in them becomes unrecognizable. He would never hurt our baby.
Abortion is off the table for me. Not because I am against it, but because I already feel attached to the one piece of Tax I have left growing inside of me. Out of all the pain and death, a life has been created. Something good and innocent to outshine the horror.
I want nothing more than for Tax to be here right now. For him to hold me and tell me that he’ll be here for me and our child.
Then a flood of grief storms in. He killed the grandfather of our child. I cannot reconcile this. How can I ever forgive myself if I forgive Tax?
I wrestle with these emotions as I sit on the lid of my toilet, staring at the plus sign. I already miss Tax like a part of my own soul has departed, and the knowledge that a part of him is inside of me only makes the longing deeper. If it was just me, I could do it. I could muster up the strength to move on. It would hurt every day, take every inch of fortitude I possessed to keep the pain hidden, and I would mourn him for the rest of my life. Even if I learned to love someone else for who they were, they would never be Tax. Even if I married someone else, I would feel like a widow, my life always overshadowed by the ghost of Tax’s memory.
But if I have to look into eyes of a little girl who has his long lashes, hear his subdued laughter, or one day watch my son crack his neck when he gets out of bed, I couldn’t bear the daily agony of those tiny reminders. Echoes of Tax in our child would be like a razor cutting the same wound open every day. I would never get the distance I needed to live again, because I would be living with a piece of Tax. I would live with a physical manifestation of our unique bond and love him or her more than life itself. Loving someone who is half Tax would always keep my love for him raw, leaving no room for anyone else.
Tax has only seen pain and betrayal. He deserves to know that he is capable of doing something purely good.
My father is gone. He did something reprehensible. We all do bad things, even good people do. But just like Tax said, sometimes one thing is so horrendous, it defines you. The man who covered up the brutalization of two innocent teenagers was my father. He was other things, but he was that man too. Maybe even that man first of all. What happened to my father would never have happened if he had done the right thing.
And our child should not have to pay for the sins of his or her father. Both Tax and I know what it’s like to lose a parent. We both know what it’s like to pay for their sins: he for hi
s mother’s suicide and me for my father’s greed.
Our baby will not pay.
So, I make my decision. I don’t know how I can move forward from this, but I need to tell Tax that I love him. Not in passing, not a slip of the tongue. But to tell him that I love him, and it’s not a mistake. And I don’t know if I can be with him after what he’s done, but he needs to know I didn’t mean those things I said. About giving up on him, or about him only hurting me. Because he has done so much more than hurt me. He has brought me to life. He has made me feel emotions higher and deeper than I ever thought possible. And I will never give up on him, especially when it comes to being the father of our child.
I lay the tester on the bathroom vanity and exit the bathroom to find my phone. As I reach the end of the hallway, I see a shadow in the living room.
“Hello? Tax?”
He came back.
I walk into the living room and find Jude standing alone.
“What are you doing here? How did you get in?”
“The door was unlocked when you kicked my brother out.”
“What? How did you know? You were outside?”
“I needed to show Tax you never really loved him. The real him. I won’t let you take him away from the people who really love him. It’ll be easier for him to move on this way.”
“Jude, what’s this about?”
“I know you gave Tripp that letter. You two walked home together that afternoon. I saw it. I am sure you didn’t think it would go so far. But it did. Nothing personal, right? Huck, Tripp, Tucker...none of that would have happened if you hadn’t manipulated the boys around you. And now you’re doing it to Tax again. You always get your way.”
“Jude, I thought you understood. I never even saw the letter. I swear it. I would never have done something so malicious. I’m sorry, but you need to leave.” I should have listened to Tax. Something is off about Jude. The kindness she displayed in the park has been shed like a snakeskin. Her dark eyes curve in frigid satisfaction as she faces off with me in my living room.
“It should never have been him to come after you. It should have been me. Woman to woman. It’s time for you to pay, Mia.”
“Hi, you’ve reached the voicemail of Jude James. Leave a message.”
“Answer your fucking phone Jude! Answer your motherfucking phone!” I scream, slamming my cell down to the passenger seat. I whizz in and out of traffic as I race to her house.
I don’t know what I’m going to do to her when I find her, and it doesn’t matter. I am just blind fury. She took away the only person who ever truly made me feel less than dead inside. Jude doesn’t want the vendetta to end. She wants Rex, her, and me to be one twisted little family forever. Sure, Jude and I fantasized about a “normal” life, but now that we’re close, I think Jude’s scared. She doesn’t know normal. Fuck, she might not even like normal. I don’t. The difference between us is I want more and she just wants the same.
Jude always loved the fact that I was detached from the women I fucked. That I only loved her. I devoted myself to her. But I always saw an endgame in our mission, and now I see Jude doesn’t want this to end. She has the men she wants, she doesn’t need to look elsewhere. She was always the center of Rex and my world. My moving on with Mia was a threat to that. And she had to ruin it for me.
Ever since that night, everything I did was about making it up to Jude. But nothing I ever do will make up for the pain and loss. She’s just angry, and she wants everyone else to roll in the filth of rage with her. She wants to believe Mia did those things. Because otherwise it was all random. There’s no one to blame. And it wouldn’t even be my fault. Because I wasn’t manipulated by Mia, she did like me as a person. It was just fate. That bitch. Somehow Tripp got the letter, and fate found the perfect way to manifest her cruelty.
She hates Mia because Mia is everything she never had a chance to be. She hates Mia because I love her. She hates Mia because she sees Mia as those flowers I liked to trample: Mia had it too easy.
Jude would be damned if Mia would get me too.
Mia was pretty, and smart, and popular. And her dad loved her. Sure she lost her mother, a pain most kids should never endure. But Jude would kill to have the sixteen years on earth with our mom like Mia had. Life was too fair to Mia, and Jude was going to stomp on her petals.
I slam the door to my car and run up to Jude’s townhouse, pounding the door with angry fists. I am about ten seconds from kicking it down when Rex answers, shirtless, in just his boxers, sleep still in his eyes at two-thirty in the afternoon.
“Tax, what the fuck is going on?”
I push past him.
“Where the fuck is Jude?”
“Huh?”
“Where is she!” I ask, slamming him up against the wall.
“Tax calm down. I don’t know. She went out yesterday and hasn’t come back. I thought she was out seeing one of her guys.”
Her guys. It’s what Rex calls the other men she fucks while she keeps him close.
I step back and let go of him. “She told Mia everything. That fucking bitch. Mia just lost her shit on me.”
“Fuck.”
“You told me you would make sure she didn’t do anything stupid!”
“Dude. I fucking swear, she told me she believed you. She was acting normal and shit. She was better than I have seen a long time.”
It’s because she knew she was about to get what she wanted.
I circle away, running my hand through my hair. “What the fuck is she doing?” I think aloud. What’s her goal? She knows I would be enraged. If she did this to keep me to herself, why would she do this and disappear? Maybe she’s waiting for me to cool down, I don’t know.
“We need to find her. Now,” I say, jutting a finger in Rex’s direction.
“Okay man...okay...lemme think,” Rex says. “Come on,” he says running up to the main level. “Let me look in her office to see if I find anything,” he says.
I pace the living room, taking turns calling Mia and Jude. I don’t care if Mia calls the cops on me. I need her to know I will go to the ends of the fucking earth for her. She needs to know I won’t give up on her.
I feel like I will fucking burst with each missed call to the only two women I have ever cared about.
The sounds of Rex fumbling around in Jude’s office are broken up by him saying “shitshitshit...”
“What is it?” I ask, from the threshold.
“Oh man...I don’t know...this isn’t good.”
“Fucking tell me!” I yell.
“Her safe. It’s like something she keeps for emergencies. You know, our getaway plan.”
“Spit it the fuck out.”
“I have the combination too. I just looked in, it’s empty.”
“You think she’s leaving town?”
“Tax, there was at least two mil in cash and—“
“And what?”
“A gun.”
“A gun?”
For all of Jude’s desire to kill, it was always me or Rex who did the dirty work. I wanted to keep her from having to do that. Jude is not the type to walk around with a gun.
Rex and I both look at each other and instantly realize the implication of that missing gun. “Mia,” we say in unison. In a fraction of a second we are sprinting out of the house. Rex throws on pants as he runs, grabbing a jacket to throw over his shirtless body.
I toss the keys to him so he can drive while I call Mia. Rex and I don’t even speak. We operate without words on pure adrenaline.
“Babe, please answer your fucking phone! Lock your doors, or go to Alea and call me from there. If you see Jude, run. Don’t speak to her, just run!”
I end the call and follow up with a text.
If Jude comes to your house, do not let her in. Stay put. Lock your doors. Pick up your phone pls!!!
“Come on...come oooon...” Rex says to himself as he speeds on the freeway.
We come to Mia’s block and Rex jumps the curb
right by her driveway. The car isn’t even at a full stop when I open the door and jump out, tripping over her lawn as I reach the porch steps. I dash up the stairs of her porch and barrel through her unlocked front door.
“Mia! Babe! Mia!” I call out. There’s no response. Underneath my own panting, I hear a groan coming from the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. I look down and see a foot peeking past the corner.
“Mia?”
I race over and turn into the hallway to find her lying on the floor in a pool of blood.
“Nonononono,” I say, scooping Mia’s limp body in my arms, slapping her cheek to keep her conscious. I lift up her shirt to find the wound. There’s so much blood. So much fucking blood. My hand slips and slides along the slick warmth until I find a wound in her lower abdomen. “Babe, you’re gonna be fine okay?” I press down on the bullet hole and she moans.
“Tax...” she raises a hand to my face. “Our baby...”
“Baby? What?” My mind is running a thousand miles per hour, trying to make sense of it all. “You’re pregnant?”
She nods.
“Oh god. Oh god,” I groan, rocking her back and forth in my arms.
“Oh shit man...” Rex says as he comes upon the scene.
“Where’s the fucking ambulance!” I yell.
“They’re not coming. That gun had a silencer attachment. Let’s just get her in the car, it’ll be faster. She’s gonna make it, okay? But we gotta go!”
“Babe, I know it hurts, but press down,” I say, ripping a throw from her couch, pressing it on the wound, and placing her hand over it.
I pick Mia up off the floor, almost slipping on the viscous pool of blood.
“Come on!” Rex yells. Usually, I am the one with the cool head, but right now, I can’t think straight and it’s Rex who has to keep it together for the both of us.
I run towards the car and thrust into the back seat with her. Mia’s droopy eyes are locked on me, as she rests on my lap. “Go! Go!” I yell to Rex. The car bounces as it jumps off the curb, and the engine groans as he slams on the gas.
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