Garden of Goodbyes

by Faith Andrews

  “I’m her sister. I know.” I hated voicing it, but he needed to hear me loud and clear. This wasn’t a silly hunch or some trivial suspicion. I knew in my soul that Violet was back to her old tricks and it was only a matter of time before she did what she did best—brought us all down with her. But I couldn’t confess those fears to Lennox. I couldn’t taint the pleasantness of their relationship because of the preexisting issues she and I had. And more so, I didn’t want Lennox to witness this side of Violet and learn for himself that she was oftentimes a disaster waiting to happen. I wanted to put an end to it before she had the opportunity to wreck what we had. Before we sealed our fate and invited her along with us when we moved to Philadelphia to start the next chapter of our lives. The question that loomed over me and prevented me from a restful sleep each night was, was I a terrible person for allowing this seed of doubt to even exist? I was all she had in this world. Well, Lennox and I were. Would she even survive without us? Was I supposed to worry about that for the rest of my life? What about me? When would my needs come first?

  But could I really go through with abandoning her so Lennox and I were safe to have the future we set out for? I needed an answer, or a crystal ball. I needed someone to assure me that giving Violet chance after chance wasn’t one big mistake that would haunt me forever. I wanted more than anything to trust my gut, but unfortunately, my gut was not a big fan of my sister.

  Past

  SHE CALLED ME OUT ON it. Gave me the third degree. The I know what’s best for you speech with all the bells and whistles I’d expect from a real mother—if I had one. But I didn’t, and as much as I loved my sister for trying to fill that role, I wouldn’t allow her to dictate how I lived my life. I couldn’t tell her that, though. I didn’t want to disappoint her again. Instead, I made a better effort to hide the things she forbade me from doing.

  The sad part was, keeping the secret, sneaking around, playing this game of hide and seek—it was a thrill. A high to accompany yet another high. The cherry on top of my fucked up sundae supreme.

  I had an out. A second chance on a silver platter and here I was taking it for granted, basically spitting in my sister’s face because I hated being told what to do and was too weak to admit she was right. She was, though. Undeniably, irrevocably right. But I was so sick of that. Sick of nodding my head in agreement and following suit. This wasn’t me. Why couldn’t she just accept me for who I really was rather than try and fix me? Because you’re a fuck-up, that’s why.

  Rather than wallow in self-pity, I kept busy. With barely enough academic skills needed to get by in the modern workforce, I settled on what I knew best: waiting tables, tending bar, wasting my time on dead-end positions. But it paid the bills I promised I’d help contribute to, so popping tops off Buds and squeezing lemon into vodka tonics became my trade of choice.

  Tonight was no different, except I was jonesing for a visit from Denver. For more than one reason. I was lonely and dry. Dry was winning out on the nagging forefront, and that meant if I didn’t hear from Denver soon, I’d have to rely on other, not so dependable, resources.

  I took in the crowd, quiet for a Thursday night, and grabbed my phone from the back pocket of my jeans. Thumbing through my short list of contacts, that feeling of worthlessness hung over me again. Tended to happen when your contact list consisted of one family member and her boyfriend, and the rest were only fit to be the usual suspects in a drug bust line-up.

  A lump of disgust lodged itself in my throat, but I ignored it and set to dialing the number of a girl Denver introduced me to a few weeks ago. My efforts were cut short at the sound of my name from his lips. It wasn’t so much the way he said my name or that he even said it at all—it was that he was here. Unexpectedly. Alone.

  “Lennox? What are you doing here?” I flipped my phone shut and shoved it back into my pocket.”

  He plopped himself onto a stool and rested his elbows on the wooden bar top. “Came for a drink. Figured this was as good a place as any.”

  I looked to the front of the bar, expecting the door to swing open any second. “Where’s Eden?”

  “Home. Packing.”

  Confused, I mopped up a wet spot on the bar, asking mindlessly, “Still?”

  “Yeah.” He laughed. “Seems we accumulated a lot more junk than we thought over the years. I keep telling her to toss it, but you know her . . . sentimental. Everything has a memory or a meaning she’s not willing to part with.”

  “Yup. That’s Eden. It took me less than an hour to box up what’s important. Kinda pathetic, I guess.”

  “Nah, just means you’re ready for a new start, is all. We all are.” His eyes bore into mine, gleaming with warning. It wasn’t a bad thing. No, not at all. It was a show of compassion, of wisdom. A tell that he had something more to say. He’d probably be here a while, so I decided to make it worth his while.

  “What can I get you? I have a feeling you’re not here for our crappy tap selection.”

  One side of his mouth curled up, creasing the corner of his eyes with amusement. “Even crappier selection of whiskey, but gimme a Jim Beam, neat.”

  I had never seen Lennox drink anything other than beer from time to time. He stayed fit and clean for the game, no room for messing around like a lot of guys his age. At times I thought it was kind of lame, but most times I commended him for it. His kids would be lucky to grow up with a father who didn’t have a taste for the poison. Eden knew what she was doing when she snagged him. I supposed she would never let go for that reason, too.

  I prepared his drink, snuck myself a finger’s-width of the same, and joined him.

  Sliding the glass into his hands, I brought mine to my lips, but before sipping it, I said, “Cheers. To the good life.”

  He nodded his head, clinked my glass and took a long pull without even wincing. I, on the other hand, had to stop myself from crying in agony over the burn. It was my first dance with whiskey, funny for a girl who’d pretty much sampled the entire rainbow of sins. “Ew. Gross. How do you drink this stuff?”

  Lennox arched a brow into a sharp V as he eyed me over the rim of his glass and took another effortless sip. “You can’t be serious. With all due respect—”

  “I’ll stop you there. I know what you’re about to say so I’ll save you the trouble.” Emptying the undrunk portion from my glass into the sink, I wiped my hands clean on a rag and then leaned an elbow against the bar in front of Lennox. “So, what really brings you here?”

  The green of his eyes flashed with something I couldn’t register, his features stark, his posture stiffening. “You,” he deadpanned.

  Under alternative circumstances, with a different tone, in another lifetime perhaps, that declaration would have sent shivers needling my spine. But his grave expression and his earnest delivery sent a surge through my body. “Okay, you got me. What can I do for you?” I purposely flirted with the connotation. The vision of Lennox ogling over my towel-dropping-stunt brought on a swell of desire. I should not have been coveting my sister’s man. I should not have been imagining all the ways in which he could have answered that question. But I was. Add on to that my pile of wicked offenses—I’d racked up quite a few. And while I knew damn well it was wrong, I couldn’t even try to help myself.

  But, alas, the reality of it all was that no matter how much I wished for even one ounce of the attention he bestowed on my sister, Lennox wasn’t actually here for me. He was here because of Eden.

  “This isn’t about what you can do for me at all, Violet. This is about Eden. It’ll always be about what’s best for Eden. I’d do anything for her, and even though she would have my balls for being here, I need to say this. I need you to hear it from me.”

  It was becoming painfully obvious that he and Eden were one and the same. Over the course of sharing the same four walls for the last year, I’d grown to trust Lennox, to see him as more than my sister’s boyfriend. As a friend. My friend. Not just Eden’s. But the way his mystifying green eyes seared
tonight—maybe I was wrong to think any of that at all. Maybe I was just tagging along. I was disposable.

  “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Lennox,” I lied, not willing to confess the sins I didn’t want to admit I was still committing.

  “Oh, I think you do. And if you want to continue to be part of our lives, you’re going to listen to what I have to say, and you’re going to make your decision before you put those two boxes in the back of my truck and join us in Philly.”

  MY BOSS ALLOWED ME AN earlier than usual break time and one of the newer girls took over the bar. It was dead anyway, but with hours left until closing time, we couldn’t keep it unattended. I poured Lennox another Jim Beam, neat, and then he and I found an empty table.

  I sat across from him, unwillingly. I didn’t want to be here any more than he did. I was taken off guard by his brashness. Guess Eden hadn’t totally obliterated his balls, after all.

  “If you’re here to tell me what you think is best for me, save it. Eden’s already warned me to stop whatever it is she thinks I’ve been doing. I got the memo, loud and clear.”

  Lennox cupped his glass, rotating it in his palms and staring into the amber liquid as he spoke. “Then why are you still up to the same shit? Do you not want to come with us? Are you happy here, doing this?” He looked up at me, his nostrils flaring as he waved his hand to point out what “this” was. A shithole bar, in a shithole part of town, not much different from the shithole home I left behind a year ago.

  “Sorry my hopes and dreams don’t meet your approval, Mr. Big, Bad Football Player.” I leaned forward, cleavage on display, my words emphasized to sound sultry.

  “Don’t.” He spoke through gritted teeth. Was he angry with me or trying to suppress an itch he was forbidden to scratch?

  “Don’t what, Lennox?” I tilted my head and licked my lips, zoning in on his. My body had gotten me out of many a bind. Flirting was my superpower. Lennox couldn’t be immune to that, even if I wasn’t who he wanted me to be. And all I wanted in this moment was for the heat to be off me for a change. To not be the only wrongdoer. To know the world was full of sinners, ready to indulge at any time.

  With a loud crash of his hand on the wobbly table, Lennox reached across the table and shouted in my face. “Is this how you repay her?”

  I cowered, smelling the whiskey on his breath. Remembering. Transporting. Regretting. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  He softened his voice and sat back in the chair again. “Yes, you did! I’m not blind, Violet, and I’m not dumb. You’re a beautiful girl and I see what you’re doing, but it’s not gonna work.

  “I love your sister, and I know you do, too. You don’t want me; you only want to be loved. And you know what? You are. We love you, Violet. We both do. Let this kind of love be enough because it’s all you can handle right now. You may have grown up not knowing how that feels because of that piece of shit you call a father, but now that you have it, don’t ignore it because you don’t know what to do with it.”

  Tears welled in my eyes. I’d never felt so sorry for myself before. Even when my father was beating on me, calling me worthless, paying me no mind—this hurt worse because I inflicted it on myself. I was inept. Incapable. Oblivious to how love actually felt. I cried, my body trembling. There were no words adequate enough to respond.

  Taking me in, Lennox’s hastened breathing simmered and he stretched his arm across the table to touch my hand. I shuddered at the first contact, then welcomed the warmth that seemed to travel from my fingertips all the way to my vacant heart.

  When my sodden eyes met his, he continued with what he’d come to say. “When someone loves you, they want what’s best for you. I love Eden and I want what’s best for her. What’s best for Eden is you staying clean and keeping your shit together. It’s a domino effect. We all need to work together, hard as it may seem.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head before narrowing in on the pitiful sight before him again. “You don’t think it would be easier to kick you out? To hate you? We’re not blood. I don’t have to care, but I do because you’re an extension of her. She needs you and you need her, so that makes me need you, too.”

  Brushing the tears from my cheeks, I finally summoned the strength to contest his words. “What do you think you’re going to do, Lennox? Save me the way you saved her?”

  “Would that be so fucking bad? Would it be the end of the world? I don’t see that you have so many other options, Violet. Call me crazy, but everything we’ve offered sounds like a pretty solid deal. But, hey, maybe I’m wrong. And that’s where you come in.”

  He paused, his eyes wide, waiting for an answer, a resolution only I could offer. “This is where you decide. Once and for all. Do you want to come with us? No more drugs, no more trouble. Can you put it all behind you, lean on us when you need to, and stop doing this to yourself—to all of us—so we can move forward and make a fresh new start? Together. Or would you rather do this alone? The choice is yours, Violet. It’s all up to you.”

  It’s all up to you. No one had ever told me that. No one had ever given me that power. Not that I was equipped to deal with it, but still, it was liberating. I’d made many deals with the devil in my time. I’d danced with fire, frolicked in the flames, and rolled around in the ashes just because I could. I could do this, too. This was a different kind of deal. An arrangement in which my lost soul could finally be found again. And like Lennox said, it was all up to me. Not him. Not Eden. Just me.

  I had to put me first. I had to at least try. Never mind how well I knew—how positive I was—that this wouldn’t end the way anyone intended.

  Past

  WHEN THE MAN YOU LOVED, the guy you were pretty sure would ask for your hand in marriage in the not so far-off future, was a few games away from making it to the freaking Super Bowl, it was kind of a big deal. So big in fact, you wondered how on God’s green Earth you got so lucky.

  This wasn’t supposed to be my reality. People like me didn’t get the happily ever after with all the ooey gooey goodness that came in between. But somehow it was my reality. Our reality. And even if I was as grateful as anyone in this scenario should be, I was overwhelmed.

  Over the course of the last year I’d become the almost-trophy-wife of Lennox Dean, number ten, quarterback for the Philadelphia Eagles. We left behind our humble beginnings in Tampa with my sister in tow, and settled into the upscale town of Rittenhouse Square. It was a slice of Philadelphian heaven. Home to many other families of famous football or hockey players, it was a far cry from my less than stellar upbringing. Rich in culture, full of charm with farmer’s markets, edifying landmarks, and trendy hotspots galore. Violet liked to compare our new living arrangement to playing dress up. “You can put lipstick on a pig, but it’ll still be a pig, Edie.” I chose to ignore my sister’s pessimism because I’d be a moron not to.

  Why didn’t we deserve this? Don’t get me wrong, Violet and I couldn’t afford our new norm by any stretch of the imagination. I was still interning, trying to get my foot in the door at a reputable PR firm, and my sister was the master of odd jobs, waitressing and bartending wherever she could find an opening. Much like a “pig” in high end lip gloss, I did feel inadequate, as if I was taking advantage of Lennox’s success and trying to fit in where I didn’t belong. But Lennox never gave off the impression that we were moochers. If anything, he supported us proudly; the head of our little family. “What’s mine is yours, Edie. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

  Together, we made it work and then some. I was on top of the world, or at least that’s how it felt from this vantage point in one of the club lounges at Lincoln Financial Field.

  “Defense! Defense!” My throat was raw from screaming, my nails bitten down to the quick.

  “Our boys got this, Eden. Don’t worry.” Rachel, the wife of one of Lennox’s teammates, reassured me with a nudge. Much like mine, her face was painted green and white with her husba
nd Aaron’s number on her cheek.

  I stared down at the field of green, focusing on Lennox. I prayed he wouldn’t get sacked or throw an interception. He was hard on himself and with so much on the line, he would be miserable if he cost the team a spot in the playoffs. I bit my lip, giving my fingers a break, and asked Rachel, “How much time’s left in the quarter? I can’t bear to look.”

  She spurted out statistics—yards, times, scores—but I was too frazzled to pay attention. My eyes were honed in on my uniformed man, suited up like the hero he was.

  I’d been to too many games to count during Lennox’s career. First high school, then college, and now the NFL. I didn’t have a normal father to teach me the rules of the sport, or a brother to instill that love for the game in my bones. But time and experience and the simple fact Lennox lived football made me live for it, too. The roar of the crowd, the thrill of victory, the exhaustion of defeat. It was all a part of my marrow now.

  This game was different, however. Maybe it was the weight of what it meant. Or maybe hindsight really was twenty-twenty. This game was the pinnacle. Lennox’s rookie year was one for the books. I still couldn’t wrap my head around all the terms the pros used, or how the endorsement deals were practically coming in in droves. Lennox Dean was a household name on any given Sunday, and quite possibly the other six days of the week too. My Lennox.

  But I should have known it was too good to be true. I was cursed. How else could I explain everything that happened in the past and everything that was about to happen to my future?