by Nicola Haken
“Jesus, doll…I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”
“You never do!” she blared. She tried to sound angry but the crack in her voice gave her away. Her tone trembled as she fought back the tears and within seconds, she had turned on her heels and disappeared.
She ran.
From me.
“I gotta go,” I said to Jaxon. I’m not sure if he heard me because I was already half way down the street.
When I got home it took me almost an hour of groveling to get Emily to open the bedroom door and talk to me. When she finally peeled it open, I just stood there looking at the floor and feeling utterly ashamed of myself.
“I have no excuse for yelling at you. I’m sorry.” I was beginning to think I said that darn word so often lately it didn’t even mean anything anymore.
“I think you need to talk to Sarah,” she replied – dismissing my apology completely. She had every right to shirk me, but it didn’t stop the little bubbles of frustration fizzing up inside my stomach.
“You don’t want to talk about it?” I asked, possibly a little sharper than I’d intended.
“What’s the point?” Ouch. “You don’t do talking, Dexter. You’ve made that pretty clear.”
“Please, doll. Don’t do this. I know I have no right to say this… but I need you.”
“And you’ve got me. You always will. But right now? I’m sorry, Dexter but I need someone too. Someone who won’t bail on me when things get a little too intense.”
What could I say to that? Nothing, that’s what. Because she was right. I wasn’t there for her. I’ve done nothing but let her down time and time again.
“I’m sorry.” Yeah, that sounded just as pathetic out loud as it did in my head.
“I know you are,” she whispered on a long exhale. “I know.”
Reluctantly, I made my way back downstairs alone – shame weighing down on me so heavily every step was an effort. Aunt Sarah was waiting for me in the kitchen. I found her sitting at the small pine table with two mugs of freshly made coffee in front of her.
“I’m signing the house over to Martin’s wife,” she announced before I’d even sat down.
“You’re WHAT?” I blasted, blinking erratically as if that would make her and her ridiculous words disappear.
“I can’t live like this anymore, Dex. It feels like we’re trapped in limbo. I wake up every day not knowing whether he’s gonna turn up and cause a scene. I lie awake at night wondering what his next move will be. And… you’re slipping. I can see it in your eyes. And it’s all because of HIM!”
“I-I… I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fine.” The fact I stumbled on my words betrayed the lie.
“Don’t lie to me, honey. Not me. I know you and I know when you’re slipping. Don’t you see? If I don’t end this now it’s only going to get worse! It’s just not worth it. He can take the house. I’ll move on – get a new one. But I can’t get another one of you. He’s taking you from me all over again, Dex. It’s happening right in front of me and I will not stand by and watch you destroy yourself over him!”
“I’m not slipping,” I mumbled weakly, unable to look her in the eye. “I’m just…” Hell, I didn’t even know what I was anymore. “I’ve thought about it. But I haven’t acted on it I swear to you. I wouldn’t risk losing you or Emily. I’d be nothing without you.” Fuck me, I almost believed myself for a second. “But I won’t ever agree with you giving him the house. If you do, he’s won.”
“You mean more to me than some twisted competition,” she said solemnly.
“What about Mom? You remember her?”
“Don’t speak to me like that, Dexter,” she warned. “You know how much I loved your mom.”
“If you let him get his own way, again, just like he always has… you might as well just piss on her grave.” Why was nobody with me on this? What about you? Do you think he should hold the power to make us roll over whenever he snaps his fingers? After all the pain and devastation he’s caused? ‘Cause if you do, you’re as weak as Sarah.
“That’s uncalled for. I’m trying to protect you!”
“Yeah? Well I don’t need protecting. I don’t need anything from anyone. I’m better off on my fucking own. Always have been. Always will be.” Christ I was seething. The blood in my veins was so hot with rage I started to sweat.
“Don’t do this, Dex. Don’t go there again I’m begging you.” Aunt Sarah reached out for me but I shrugged away from her.
“Like you give a shit,” I spat before stalking off towards the front door.
“Don’t, Dexter,” she pleaded. “Think of that girl up there!” she cried. “She loves you! She needs you!”
“Yeah? Well she’s better off without me.”
Chapter Eight
~Emily~
“Emily honey, can I talk with you for a moment?” Sarah asked when I made my way downstairs. I’d just heard the front door slam and I didn’t need to ask to know it was Dexter storming off out. Again.
“Sounds ominous,” I replied apprehensively, taking up a spot next to her on the couch.
“It’s Dexter,” she said soberly – her words and terrified expression slicing through the centre of my heart. “I think he’s using again.”
“Using what?” Just one breath later what Sarah was implying clicked into place and I immediately threw my hand over my mouth. “Drugs? You think he’s using drugs?” I asked in shocked disbelief. “No. No he wouldn’t do that again,” I said with weak determination.
“I know the signs, honey. He’s been all over the place lately. He’s happy one minute, blowing someone’s head off the next. He’s become quiet and secretive. He’s going for more runs than usual – burning off too much energy. He’s getting angry at the drop of a hat. He’s using… I know he is.”
“But… well…” I wanted to disagree with her so badly but everything she said was the truth. “He’s going through a hard time. He’s just lost his mum, his dad’s shown up, he’s worried about you… and the house… He’s bound to be stressed out about it all.” Was I making excuses for him? Yes. Yes I was. Deep down I knew that, but until I had proof that Dexter was screwing with drugs again, it hurt less to believe a lie.
“Maybe,” Sarah muttered, but I suspected she was just trying to appease me. “I hope you’re right.” I nodded weakly – my mouth too dry and my brain too foggy to form words.
“I’m gonna turn in,” I said glumly, standing from the couch. “Let me know if you hear from him. I don’t care what time it is, just come in and tell me.”
“Sure I will, honey. He’ll be back don’t worry.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “He always comes back, right?”
I just wish he’d stop leaving in the first place.
Damn you Dexter Michaels.
Damn you.
After taking a shower and changing into my pink pyjama shorts and cami top, I tried calling Dexter. I wasn’t surprised in the slightest when I got his voicemail and I didn’t bother to try again. I never wanted nor expected our relationship to come to this, so was quite disgusted when I found myself rummaging through his belongings. I didn’t even know what I was looking for. Money, drugs… Would I even know what a packet of drugs looked like? I mean I’ve seen them on the telly, but do they really come in little clear bags?
So, after fifteen minutes spent rifling through his things – his clothes, his drawers, inside his shoes – I came up empty handed. Strangely that didn’t make me feel any better though. Dexter isn’t a stupid man. If he was using again I doubt he’d leave anything incriminating where it could be found easily. Drugs make people devious. Isn’t that what people say?
I couldn’t stop the tears from escaping when I climbed into the empty bed. For the first time in the three months since I’d known Dexter I started to wonder if I had in fact, jumped in too deep.
Then I hated myself for ever thinking such a thing.
Time is irrelevant. It doesn’t matter if I
’ve known Dexter three months or three years the point is that I love him. He warned me before he’d even kissed me for the first time what a future with him could entail. Granted, I never expected it to happen this soon – if at all – and I sure as hell didn’t expect it to be this hard… but because I loved him it didn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. I promised him I wouldn’t let him down and I won’t.
Then again, I feel like I’ve already let him down. If I haven’t, then why would he feel the need to return to the life he worked so hard to escape from?
Just as my tears began to dry – I think I’d literally used up my entire body’s supply – my heart leapt into my throat at the sound of a text message. I bolted upright and leaned across to the nightstand to grab it. My pulse throbbed violently through my fingers against the phone and when I swiped across the screen… everything slowed down again.
Rachel: I miss you Ho <3
God I miss her too. In some warped way I even miss being called ‘Ho’. I know it might seem like a strange, or even insulting, nickname to some people but I know she means it in the sweetest of ways. I remember the exact day she came up with it. We were fourteen years old and after pestering me for weeks I finally agreed to her giving me a makeover. As punishment for making her wait so long however, she went completely OTT. She caked my face in orange foundation, weighed down my lashes with four coats of mascara, plastered my cheeks in blusher and smothered my lips in bright red lipstick.
“I look like a prostitute!” I remember saying when I caught sight of my hideous reflection in the mirror.
“Well I think you look pretty good… for a ho,” she teased, unable to hide the waves of laughter wracking through her body. Since that day the name kind of stuck. I think Rachel likes the irony of it. I mean I was seventeen before I had my first kiss – very un-ho like.
It’s too easy to forget about my life back home with all the crap consuming my every waking thought just now and I’m always glad for a reminder from her. Though it worried me a little. I know Rachel loves me – we’ve been best friends forever – but she never willingly shows her feelings like this. Not out of the blue.
Me: I miss u more. Really need a friend right now. U ok? U don’t sound right x
Rachel: How can u hear me? Lol. I’m good. Just need a friend too xxx
Okay so now I was really worried. Rachel didn’t need anyone. Ever. Or at least that’s what she likes people to believe.
Me: ur worrying me. Talk to me x
Rachel: Don’t worry about me. U got enuf on ur plate ho. U no me – it’s just man trouble ;-)
Me: U met a guy? WHO?????
Rachel: U wouldn’t believe me if I told u x
Me: Try me? Ur killing me here!
Rachel: Jared
Me: Seriously stop messing around and tell me!
Rachel: Knew u wouldn’t believe me ;-)
Flopping backwards onto the bed I re-read our text conversation several times. It’s difficult to make out sarcasm in writing and I honestly couldn’t tell if she was pulling my leg. It’s weird because I’d seen Rachel and Jared growing closer before we left for the states and I’ve said more than once they’re perfect for each other. They’re both missing a brain to mouth filter. They have the same sordid sense of humour, the same dirty mouths, the same taste in noise (I refuse to call the crap they listen to ‘music’)…
So why was I sitting here feeling flabbergasted with a giant grin on my face? I suppose it’s because I thought they were both too stubborn to admit it to themselves.
Me: I knew it! I knew u were in2 each other! If ur seriously not messing around, then I am SOOOO happy for u! x
Me: Hold on… if it’s true – y u sad about it???
Rachel: I’m not tuggin ur weaner ho. I really like him. Like REALLY. Guess it kinda scares the shit out of me :
Me: Y? ur perfect for each other. U’ve been with loads of guys – what’s different? X
Rachel: Cheers ho. Y don’t u just come out n call me a slag?? It’s different coz he’s my friend. And it’s different coz I think I might… u know?? X
Oh. My. God. Rachel… ‘I don’t need anybody’ Rachel… is in love!
Me: OMG do u LOVE him???????????????????
Rachel: I don’t no! I mean I think so… but… ah fuck I just don’t no ho! Hey I’m a poet – who knew? ;-)
I rolled my eyes playfully when I read her reply. I miss that. Before we came here I rolled my eyes as often as I took a breath. It made me realise how much I miss her humour – how much I miss her candidness and even her vulgarity. Dexter used to provoke the eye roll too. But lately the only thing he seems to be able to do to my eyes is make them weep.
Me: I miss u so much xxx
Damn. Tears were welling behind my eyes again. Chatting with Rachel, even briefly over text, felt so… normal. For those few brief minutes I forgot about the reason why I was lying here alone in a cold bed.
Me: Everything will work out just fine. I’ll b home before u no it then I can slap some sense into u ;-) I love u Rach. X
Rachel: Love u too ho. I’m glad we talked (or typed!) xxx
Tossing my phone onto the empty pillow beside me, I cried myself to sleep.
**********
When I woke up the next morning I found Dexter asleep on the couch. I smiled warmly… regretfully. He looked so content. His face was smooth – free from worry creases, his hair was the tousled mess I fell in love with and his lips were soft… pliable. Lately they’ve been set into such a firm, unmoving line and I found myself just staring at them. He looked like my Dexter, and not the hostile version - ravaged by guilt and pain.
“Good morning,” Sarah greeted with a weak smile. She came into the living room wearing a flowy skirt with giant flowers printed on it and a matching cami. Then she set the two mugs of coffee she was carrying down onto the coffee table and took up stance next to me where she too just stared at Dexter.
“You’re right aren’t you,” I muttered, but it wasn’t actually a question. Seeing him sleeping so peacefully it was suddenly glaringly obvious that he was not this man when he was awake. Someone else was taking over his body – or rather something else.
Our voices must have caused him to stir because Dexter startled awake and jumped up from the couch.
“Sorry, honey. We didn’t mean to wake you,” Sarah apologised.
“Emily…” Dexter breathed, ignoring Sarah’s comment. “Emily I’m-”
“Sorry?” I cut him off. He sighed deeply, looking down to his feet and stuffing his hands into the pocket of his jeans.
“Can we talk?” he asked nervously. He sounded like a lost little boy and my breaking heart wouldn’t allow me to say no to him. I nodded weakly and cocked my head towards the stairs for him to follow. When we reached the bottom of the stairs Dexter turned his head back to the living room, making eye contact with Sarah.
“I’m so sorry, Aunt Sarah,” he said gravely.
“I know you are,” was all she said. She looked so tired… almost defeated. Her face in that moment was pure, gut-wrenching heartache personified. She looked exactly like how I felt inside.
Absolute shit.
**********
“This needs to end, Dexter,” I said, slumping down onto the mattress.
“What? No!” he blasted, a look of sheer terror washing over his face.
“Not us,” I reassured, realising my mistake. “I mean this whole mess with your father. I know you don’t want to be seen as giving in, but it’s destroying you, baby. It’s destroying us. I don’t care if he wins. It’s just not worth losing what we have.”
“We won’t lose it. How can you even think that?”
“Because it’s already happening,” I announced solemnly. “We’re drifting apart – you must see that?”
“Like hell I see it! I fucking love you!”
“It’s not enough!” I retorted. But then, seeing the horror on his face, I mellowed. �
��I’m miserable, Dexter. I’ve not cried so much in my whole life as I have since I got here.”
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled guiltily.
“Don’t put it all on you,” I said firmly, because I could tell by the pain clouding his eyes that he was. “We never came here to have fun. Your mum was dying… of course there’d be tears. But now… the only thing upsetting me is you. And I don’t mean that how it sounded. I mean… your dad – he’s behind it all. I have to watch you struggling every single day and it’s killing me. You won’t talk to me. You won’t talk to Sarah… You’re angry all the time and it scares me.”
“Whoa, I would never hurt you, doll,” he interrupted, stroking my cheek with the back of his hand.
“Not physically,” I replied. He removed his hand from my face and shrank away from me. His face drained of colour and his mouth dropped open. He looked winded – like I’d just kicked him in the stomach.
“Emily you need to go home,” he pronounced, staring down at the crumpled duvet.
“Jesus, where the hell did that come from? What are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere!”
“You have to, doll. I’ve hurt you too much already. I can’t do it anymore.”
“Stop this right now!” I yelled – literally screamed. “I’m not leaving you goddammit. I will never leave you!”
“But I want you to.” I flinched harshly as his words punched me in the chest. My jaw dropped open and I struggled to breathe. “I’ve said it before, doll… I can’t make you happy. I’m too selfish. For a time I thought I could… but I can’t. I don’t want this for you. You should be at home with your friends, having fun and ticking off those little boxes on that life list of yours. You should be smiling, and dancing, and learning new things about the world. What you shouldn’t be doing, is crying yourself to sleep every night. Not over me. I’m not worth it.”