William didn’t exactly object to our exit, but he didn’t like it either. First, he muttered some choice words our way, then he threw an ashtray full of cigarette butts against the wall. Finally, he frantically yelled out a bunch of idle threats as we got in the car.
I wasn’t afraid of him anymore, but Violet clearly was.
“This still happens often?” I looked over my shoulder as I drove, to where I didn’t know, and noticed Violet was silently crying.
She simply nodded. The truth hurt, not only physically for Violet, but mentally for me. I shouldn’t have cared that William was the same, taking his misery out on her. I shouldn’t have cared because I offered her a way out many years ago and she threw it back in my face by fucking my boyfriend and stealing him right from under my nose. I shouldn’t have cared because this was the life she chose. She came back. These were her consequences, not mine. Unfortunately, I wasn’t as much of a cold-hearted bitch as I wanted to be.
Violet still hadn’t said a word. She was sniffling back her hysterics and looking out her window, away from me.
I pulled over, far from the scene of the crime, and jerked the car in park.
Violet glared at me, weak and defenseless.
It took everything I had to reach over and touch her affectionately. Or maybe it didn’t take much at all, because cupping her tear soaked face in my hands felt very natural. “Your face, Violet.” A lump formed in my throat as I appraised her. We’d been in many a faceoff of this kind, too many times to count. It brought back so many memories of our childhood, but incited a brand-new anger toward William and an unexpected sympathy for my sister. “Why do you stay?” I choked out, fighting back tears I did not want to shed for her. They fell anyway, proving my heart wasn’t totally black when it came to her; wanting so badly to understand why things had gone so wrong between us. “If he hasn’t changed . . . If he’s hurting you . . . Why the hell would you stick around and let it happen? You’re better than this, Violet. You don’t . . . You don’t deserve any of this.” No one did. Not even someone whose actions inflicted me with the same shattering hurt that our father’s fists inflicted on her.
She closed her eyes at my surprising admission, squeezing them tight, heartbreak marring her beautiful but beaten features. Her body shook with sobs but words never reached her lips.
My eyes scanned her bruise, examining the rest of her face and uncovered skin for signs of old abuse. The motherly instincts had kicked in—old habits creeping their way back in—and my heart thundered in my chest as I waited patiently until she was ready to answer.
But silence permeated the car too long for my liking. I’d just done something very out of my current comfort zone. I’d reverted back to the old Eden. The doormat. The naïve girl who thought she could save anyone with a little love. I did something I promised myself I would never do again—I showed Violet I cared. I exposed my innermost self to her; I gave her hope. Those noble attributes once cost me my dignity and my heart. I wasn’t about to risk that all over again. Not for someone who didn’t appreciate it.
My insides felt like a tornado of emotions being kicked up and tossed around. Anger swept over the sorrow, reminding me that I, too, was a victim in all this. I retreated from her and gripped the steering wheel. “You know what? I only came back to the house to tell you I was leaving. You’re obviously lucky I walked in when I did, but I can see it didn’t mean shit to you that I saved your sorry ass from a hospital visit or maybe even a funeral. Stupid me, maybe that’s what you were looking for.” I mumbled the last part, letting my anger get the best of me. I was done. I wanted out. I didn’t want to fall into old ways and risk my own sanity again.
Putting the gear back to drive, I stepped on the gas and demanded, “Where’s a safe place to drop you off? I have my stuff. It’s time for me to leave.”
“Please don’t,” she croaked, her first audible response since she got in the car, but it was too late.
“I have to. I can’t do this anymore, Violet. There’s nothing . . . There’s too much . . . It’s just . . . I want to go home!” I slammed my hands against the steering wheel and let out a blood-curdling scream. I had to release it somehow and by some small miracle it seemed the well of tears had finally run dry. It felt good. Cathartic. Pointless, but therapeutic.
Violet was crying again, her body still trembling. We were two emotional wrecks forced together, our love buried by hatred and too much time. Brushing tears from her discolored cheek and swiping the unattractive snot that dripped from her nose, she begged, “I’ll make it better. I promise. Just . . . please, don’t leave. I can’t do this without you. I need you. Can’t you see that? I’m still that same pathetic little girl, accepting the beat downs and dealing with the lashings because I don’t know any other way to show him I’m sorry for taking her away from him! It’s my fault he’s like this and it’s my fault Lennox is like this, too! I don’t know how to fix any of this! I’m tired. I’m worn out. I give up, Eden! I fucking give up!” Her body wilted like a perishing flower, the car filled with her desperation.
I continued to drive, taking it all in, wishing I could erase her pain, yet maintain my dignity at the same time. I didn’t know how to answer her. I wanted to console her but I wanted to slap her. I wanted to help her but I also wanted to leave her to fend for herself, the way she left me. Vying for one single, revitalizing breath when my lungs forgot how to inhale because my heart, mind, and soul had turned to mush from what she did to me.
But two wrongs didn’t make a right. Make that nine hundred wrongs, but who’s counting?
Something had to give.
“Where are we going?” I asked, ready to give this trip some purpose other than putting me in a space all alone with my estranged sister, drowning in too many emotions to absorb.
“You’re the one in the driver’s seat,” Violet quipped as she regained the tiniest bit of composure.
“If it were up to me we’d be headed back to New York, but it seems we have a bit of a problem.”
“Yup. I’ve been that problem for a long time, haven’t I?”
I glanced next to me and left Violet with a pointed glare. What did she expect me to say? Sorry William was beating up on you. All’s forgiven now. Leave Lennox. You know, my ex. The one you fucked behind my back and got addicted to drugs. And let’s drive off into the sunset and live happily ever after. Yeah, not happening.
“I’m sorry, Eden. I really am.” As if she could read my mind and the empty part of my soul that longed to let bygones be bygones. Only Violet’s sins and betrayals weren’t misdemeanors. They were serious crimes deserving of severe punishment.
My mind reverted to the scene I’d walked in on back at the house. Talk about punishment. And that was only one incident I happened to witness. Who knew what had gone on over the years? Based on the state of things, Violet had been living out a cruel and torturous punishment for a long time.
“I’m sorry, too,” I acquiesced, almost gagging on the phrase. Her eyes sprang wide and I felt the need to stomp on her hopefulness to set things straight. “But I’m not ready to forgive you. I don’t know if I ever will be.”
“I understand,” she answered, her eyes on her lap where her hands were clenched together. After a deep breath, she swallowed audibly and then sniffled. “Thank you, Eden.”
“For?” I huffed.
“For what you did back there. For being here. For giving me a chance to make things right.” Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat, and turned to peer out her window.
It had been so long since I’d seen the remorseful side of Violet. Truth was, I didn’t know her at all anymore. There were probably many different sides to Violet that helped her cope with the shit she dealt with on a daily basis. I reminded myself as my walls eroded that she did this to herself and deserved every ounce of grief as consequence. But holding these grudges wasn’t getting us anywhere. My main goal was to get home and move on. Dwelling on the past and focusing on how to punish Violet wo
uld only get in the way of that.
Being the bigger person—gigantic person, if you ask me—I put everything aside for the time being. I had a job to do and it was time to put the past behind me. For good. “Where is he?” I asked, referring to Lennox.
Violet closed her eyes, fear radiating from her troubled features, and took another deep, agonized breath. “Come on. I’ll take you there.”
Like a naïve child being led by the hand into unknown territory, I followed her directions, innocent to what I was about to encounter. But nothing about it was innocent. How was I to know that Violet was escorting me straight into the burning depths of hell?
Past
I DIDN’T KNOW HOW OR when it officially happened, but after that first night with Lennox, he was mine. Not in that romantic sort of sweep you off your feet kind of way I’d dreamt about the whole time I was falling in love with him. No, it was nothing like that. It was by default. He needed me in ways Eden could never provide for him—would never provide. And because I was so desperate for him to love me in return, I would do absolutely anything to keep him.
After Eden found us, Lennox was a wreck. At first, he tried to backtrack, deny it, beg for forgiveness. In an effort to cover his ass and get Eden to stay, he said things to her that broke my heart.
It was a mistake.
I’ll only ever love you.
It meant nothing.
She tricked me.
I’ll never look at her again.
With each desperate defense, my heart felt a jab. I should’ve hated him for the way he treated me after he spent the night in my bed making love to me over and over again. I hadn’t forced him, or tricked him, or even enticed him, for that matter. As drunk and high as we both were that night, we knew what we were doing. It was no mistake. I was no mistake. I didn’t deserve to be disregarded that way. But as was the theme of my life, I was a pathetic case looking for love—or what I imagined love was—in all the wrong places. I truly believed I had finally found it with Lennox.
Lennox wore himself out by pleading for Eden’s forgiveness. Three days later, she left and ignored every one of his desperate phone calls and voicemails. Lennox lashed out and went on a wild bender. After weeks of fruitless, guilt-ridden attempts, he simply gave up. That should’ve been a red flag. He didn’t necessarily choose me; he wound up with me because I was there. He didn’t come to terms with their break-up or the accident. He didn’t think any of it through before he rebounded straight into my arms. He didn’t even try to clean up his act and follow his heart. Nope. He left it vulnerable and available, ready for me to mend.
He also got so intoxicated he almost killed himself, and because I was there to bring him back to life, I won him over. He was mine; I was his. Unfortunately, there was nothing pretty about it.
The day Eden packed the last of her bags and left for New York, I was stoned beyond recognition, following Lennox on his crusade to numb the pain. I was too blasted to apologize or to even explain myself to my sister. I wanted her to know I didn’t intend to fall in love with Lennox but that it just happened. I hoped one day she would understand that the accident changed Lennox. He had different needs now. It wasn’t her fault. She was not to blame for how everything went down. It was simply fate’s plan.
Lennox lay in my arms on the couch, doped up and delirious, pawing at me like a child hungry for his mother’s milk. He adored my lips with loving kisses; he doted on my skin with sweet caresses; he whispered words of worship in my ears, all making me feel as if I’d won the coveted prize. Sure, I’d lose my sister for good, but I’d have Lennox’s love to survive on.
Our very public and very sloppy show of affection on the couch was inappropriate and insensitive, but it didn’t deter Eden from speaking her piece as she said goodbye. “The two of you deserve each other. I hope you’re really fucking happy together.”
With her non-blessing and a slam of the door, I was shocked by the wave of relief that washed over me. There’d be no more hiding, no more secrets. In time, Lennox would love me the same way I loved him. He wouldn’t need the drugs. Neither would I. We’d clean up once the dust settled, once we were strong enough to stand on our own two feet without the support of Eden. We could be happy. We would be happy. My love would be enough.
After the silence of the house and the finality of the moment enveloped us, the kisses ceased and Lennox started to cry with his head against my chest. A man’s weakness should never be a sexy thing. For most women it was a turn-off, but for me it added fuel to the fire that burned ever so intensely for Lennox. Where there was weakness, I found my strength.
As had become our new normal, along with the drugs, our bodies became each other’s solace. I kissed his forehead and whispered, “It’ll be okay, Lennox. I promise. We have each other.”
Patting his hair, I tried to sooth the tears away. He embraced me, pulling me close, and when the crying finally subsided he looked up into my eyes, and held my face in his unsteady hands. “I love you,” he said, smiling through glossy eyes.
Hearing those words from his mouth was an epiphany. It caused my heart to swell to the point I thought it would combust from over emotion.
I dipped down and kissed his salty lips, happy for the first time in a long time. “I love you, too, Lennox. I love you so much.”
We kissed again, this time with more passion. Lennox’s hands roamed my body as if his fingertips were greedy for more. He gripped me tighter against him, his breathing erratic and eager. With his mouth devouring mine, he tunneled his fingers in my hair with one hand while the other worked the button of my jeans. In one hurried motion, I was beneath him, our bodies grinding together feverishly.
He quickly slipped my pants and underwear to my knees and slammed his fingers inside of me, eliciting a euphoric moan from my parted lips. I slid his sweatpants over his thick and ready erection, wanting him inside of me, needing the little space between our writhing bodies to disappear. When we were bare for each other, Lennox hammered into me, fulfilling every sensation and every emptiness.
“I love you,” I cried out as I matched each satisfying thrust.
“I love you, too,” he repeated. “I love you so much, Eden.”
My body stiffened. My heart froze, and my mind scorned me for being so stupid. But Lennox did not stop. He fucked me senseless, hard and demanding. When the exertion was overwhelming, he slowed his pace, but loved my body with his mouth and hands. When he came inside of me, without a condom and with pure abandon, he said it again, “Eden, baby. I love you!”
I should have pushed him off. I should have run away. I should have had some self-respect.
But I didn’t.
The warmth of his body and the sound of his I love you didn’t belong to me, but even if I died trying, I wouldn’t give up. I couldn’t lose him, too.
Present
I KNEW LENNOX WOULD BE at the bar—the birthplace of his demise, the landmark of our secret rendezvous where we came to meet up with Denver all those years ago. I hated this place for what it symbolized and for everything it represented over the course of my relationship with Lennox. Escape, overindulgence, trouble, hell. This building deserved to be soaked with gasoline down to its termite infested foundation and then set on fire to burn to ash and dust.
What I didn’t realize was that Lennox would be in this bad a state. Zonked out with his head resting on the bar and his hand wrapped loosely around an almost-empty glass of Jack.
Sure, the return of Eden had to affect him. Lennox never got over her. He reminded me daily that he was miserable without her. He hated himself for disappointing her, for breaking her heart, for ending up with me. He no longer medicated himself to numb the pain of his broken ankle or the loss of his football career. He was a junkie and a drunk because Eden was gone, and no matter how hard I tried to replace her, it was no use. I wasn’t Eden. I never would be. I resented my sister for that most days. I envied her on others. But mostly, I spent too much of my time hating her for something s
he had no control over.
I’d been fooling myself for far too long. Eden’s return only made one thing clearer; it was time to get Lennox help and move on. I had to find the strength. But how? I couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. He was all I had in this world.
The last three years together weren’t all bad—there were times we laughed and actually enjoyed each other’s company. He had a loving side, albeit influenced by downers. Our sex life was off the charts, because of the uppers, of course. And in those rare and infrequent moments, I even believed him when he told me he loved me. But it was a forced connection. One-sided. I loved Lennox with everything I had, but the feeling wasn’t mutual. It was a relationship of convenience and habit. I knew it back then, I knew it all along, and I stayed anyway. Wasn’t that fucking pathetic?
“Yes, he is,” Eden spoke, as if answering a question.
I lowered my brows and narrowed my eyes. “What is?”
“You just said he’s fucking pathetic.” She thumbed in Lennox’s direction, taking in the sight of him slumped over the bar, his limp legs dangling from a stool that was barely upright.
I didn’t realize I muttered it out loud, but I guess I had. “We should get him home.” I started to leave Eden’s side to make my way to Lennox.
She stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. “Wait. I’m not going back there. Not to William’s. You can do whatever you want once I’m out of here, but for now we do this my way.”
I was grateful she was taking control in this totally out of control situation. It was why I called her in the first place. But we still didn’t have a solid plan. “Okay,” I agreed. “But where are we taking him? He won’t go willingly. We have to think this through.”
Eden’s features hardened, her jaw ticking under ageless, beautiful skin. Even angry, Eden was gorgeous. Her complexion was still flawless and fair, without so much as a single mark of time or worry. I was a few years younger, but my skin tone lacked luster and life due to years of abuse. We were incomparable. I was the wild weed to her blooming rose. As if I didn’t have enough to envy her for, that the last three years had been kind to her physically was another reason to be jealous.
Garden of Goodbyes Page 16