by K. Langston
“What the hell is going on here?” he asks, folding his arms across his chest.
“Nothing, um…Linc just stopped by on his way through town. What are you doing home so early?” I ask, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. I can’t imagine what this must look like. By the look on his face, he’s seen and heard everything.
He slowly closes the distance between us. “I had a doctor’s appointment at two, remember?” He lifts his eyes behind me.
Shit, I’d forgotten. Once Linc arrived, I’d forgotten everything but him and me.
Linc gets to his feet.
Caroline babbles a broken sentence into the baby monitor. “Go take care of Caroline, Sylvie.”
“Dean, please.” I don’t know what I am begging for.
Forgiveness?
Mercy?
His eyes snap to mine, his voice deep and low. “Now.”
“Don’t fuckin’ talk to her like that,” Linc shouts, walking closer.
“I can talk to her any way I want. She’s my goddamn wife.”
“You don’t have to put up with this shit, Sylvie.”
“Linc, please,” I beg, turning to face him. I don’t want to have this conversation now and especially not in front of Dean. This is our marriage and when I decide to walk away would be up to me, not him.
The space between them ripples with hate, anger, and years of resentment.
All because of me.
“Motherfucker, I told you she’s mine. You stay the hell away from her,” Dean grits.
Linc smirks and dread settles in my belly.
“She may be your wife, but I’ll always own her heart.”
“Linc!”
Dean’s eyes swing to mine, rage burning in their depths. I shake my head, denying Linc’s claim.
Dean returns his hard gaze to Linc. “As long as I’m standing here breathing, she’ll never be yours.”
Linc’s pleading eyes find mine; silently begging for me to say something, but there is nothing I can say that will fix any of this.
No matter what happens, someone gets hurt.
Caroline’s crying puts my feet in motion as I turn away and bound up the back porch. Entering her room, I nearly fall to my knees, the pain of it all almost too much to bear. As I scoop her up, I hold her close, clutching to her for dear life as she cries.
But I hold it together for my baby girl. I don’t want her to see her mama upset so I carry her to the kitchen, placing her in her booster seat at the table for her afternoon snack.
After I have given her a few crackers and her sippy cup, shouting begins, but their voices are garbled and muffled by my own despair. I’m standing in front of the sink, trying to pull myself together, when Dean walks through the back door. His fingers curl around my arm as he hauls me into the living room. “I don’t ever want to see him near you ever again. You understand me?”
“Dean, calm down.”
The monster is back and he’s more vicious than ever.
He pulls me close, rubbing his nose up and down my cheek. “Jesus, you fucking smell like him,” he says, giving me a hard shake. His fingers are cruel vices against my skin while his entire body vibrates with anger.
“Look at me,” he orders, the cold sound of his voice freezing my blood.
Slowly, I lift my eyes to his. Pain and anguish darken his brown irises, turning them almost black. Leaning in, he draws in a deep breath, hovering near my chest and neck, nostrils flaring with disgust. “Do you know what it feels like to smell another man’s scent on my wife?”
I remain silent, my heart racing with anxiety. I don’t even have enough spit to swallow when he whispers, “Violent.”
“Dean, please, let me—”
“I don’t want to hear your excuses,” he barks, making me jump. “I know how wet you get for him. You think I don’t know you but I do. I know everything about you.” Panic blooms in my chest when he nuzzles my neck. I want to shove him away. Being this close, while he’s this angry, this unhinged, terrifies me.
“You dream about him, call out his name in your sleep.”
Oh God!
Sharp air vibrates through my lips on a gasp of shock. My subconscious has betrayed me. Shame stains my cheeks and my heart sinks. I hold his eyes, trying to hide what I feel inside, but Dean knows.
He can see it.
“I—”
“Why can’t I be enough? Why can’t you look at me like you look at him? Don’t you understand how much I love you? How much I need you.”
His words level me; bring me down to a place I’ve never known before. Where the light fades and darkness reigns, and I wonder if I will ever find the courage to walk away. I might be his cure but he is my disease. He thinks I can save him, but he is killing me.
Past
Each day that passes is more daunting than the last and I find myself stuck in an endless cycle of denial and regret.
I keep thinking he’ll get better.
That I can somehow save him.
But now I realize saving him means sacrificing myself, and I’m not willing to do that anymore.
The last few months have been painful. I’ve all but alienated my family and friends in an effort to make him happy, and I can’t do it anymore.
So I took off half a day to pack our stuff so I could be gone by the time Dean gets home. Whenever that may be. I know he’s back on drugs. I’m not stupid. He continues to deny it but I’m not blind.
My heart sinks when I turn on our street and the Mustang is in the driveway. I reach for my phone to call my dad or Rachel to come over to help me but realize I left it at work.
Shit.
I know he’s not going to let me go easily, and I should wait until someone can be with me to do this but I put on my brave face and go in to battle anyway.
Besides, if he’s as messed up as I think he is, he’s probably incapable of putting up much of a fight.
The house is eerily quiet when I walk in. The hairs on the back of my neck stand as I make my way down the hall to our bedroom. But he’s not there.
My gut tells me something isn’t right, twisting in a tight knot of dread as I push open the door of our bathroom. The scream that rips from my throat is raw, cutting through the silence with deep agony.
I fall to my knees, sliding next to him on a gasp. “Oh my God, Dean, what have you done to yourself?”
Eyeing the used syringe in his hand, my heart cracks once again.
It all feels like a bad dream. Any minute I’ll wake up and this will be someone else’s life. His face is pale, ashen, and there’s a little bit of foam coming from the side of his mouth.
I lean forward, pressing two fingers to his neck to check his pulse. “Thank God.” I breathe a small sigh of relief.
I fish Dean’s phone from his pocket, along with a cellophane wrapper of four white pills and small baggie of heroin.
“Jesus, Dean.”
How could he do this to himself?
To Caroline.
To me!
“Aw fuck,” Dani’s panicked voice echoes around me and I twist my head to see her pale, sunken face.
She looks almost as bad as he does, only she’s conscious.
Shuffling inside the small space, she kneels down next to me. “I fucking told him to ease up.”
“Wait, you’ve been here with him?”
“Yeah, I had to run out real quick.”
I grow suspicious as her eyes fall to my hands, raising one brow then licking her lips as she shifts in place. “He had that on him?”
“Yes,” I answer, tucking it inside my pocket. “We have to call an ambulance.”
Her hand slams down on mine, snatching the phone from my hand. “No! He could go to jail.”
“Are you crazy? He could die!” I shout, reaching for the phone.
She holds it away from me. “He probably just got a hold of some pure. Chill the fuck out.” She places a thumb on his chin, tugging his mouth open before lifting his eyelids. “He’ll b
e fine.”
“How do you know that?”
“This ain’t the first time he’s pulled this shit.”
Oh my God.
She unties the shoestring wrapped around his bicep, carefully removing the syringe from his hand. “Give it to me,” she says, getting to her feet.
“Give you what?”
“Sylvie, I’ll get rid of it, just give it to me.”
Does she think I am stupid?
That I am some dumb ass little girl who doesn’t have a clue what is going on here?
“Absolutely not,” I say, tossing the cellophane into the toilet and quickly pulling down the handle.
“You stupid bitch, why did you do that?” she shrieks, her hand diving into the bowl after it.
“Because you need help. Both of you do. Give me the damn phone now, Dani.”
She jerks her hand from the toilet, slinging droplets of water on my face. “We’re not calling a goddamn ambulance. He’s fine! I should kick your ass for doing that. Do you realize that was over three hundred dollars worth of shit you just flushed down the toilet?”
“I don’t give a damn how much it was. You’re destroying him. He’s sick and all you care about is getting high. He wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for you.”
“Me? Wake up, Sylvie! Who do you think made me this way?”
I blink several times. Dean loves his sister, went out of his way to protect her, how could he have introduced her to this poison? Taking in her gaunt appearance, I frown. “Dani, we can get you help. I…”
She collects a deep breath before sliding Dean’s phone in her back pocket. “Just forget it. Help me get him to bed.”
Grabbing one arm, she lifts him to sit up and he groans, his eyes fluttering open. Anger swiftly replaces my concern. His eyes attempt to focus but they are too glassy and heavy and eventually fall shut again.
We finally manage to get him into the guest bedroom. After Dani removes his shoes and pulls the blanket up over his chest, she pulls his phone from her back pocket and hands it back to me.
“It’ll be hours before he wakes up and he’ll probably be pissed when he finds out you flushed his shit.”
“I really don’t care how pissed he is.”
She moves to leave the room and I wrap my arms around my middle, attempting to alleviate the nausea but it is useless. The front door slamming informs me that she isn’t sticking around to witness the aftermath.
Present
The pain seems to be unbearable today, digging into the center of my chest like a serrated knife, allowing memories to fester and bleed. I barely made it through my shift, and when my boss asked me if I wanted to fill in for a waitress who called in, I quickly answered no.
I couldn’t take one more order.
I couldn’t fake one more smile.
All I want to do is crawl into bed and cry myself to sleep. But I have to pick up Caroline soon. My stomach rumbles, reminding me I haven’t eaten a thing all day, but it’s a fleeting thought as I climb the stairs to my room.
I toe off my shoes and shimmy out of my jeans, tears blurring my eyes while the knot grows thicker in my throat. Shedding the rest of my clothes, I bypass the bed, seeking refuge in the shower. Hot water rinses away the day but it does nothing to alleviate the heaviness in my chest. I sink to the floor, sobs racking my weak body.
Then, I let it all go.
I wail, allowing the pain to completely take over. Hopelessness grips my soul, dragging me back down into the dark and treacherous depths of my despair.
It’s slowly killing me inside.
A small part of me wants to be free…to find a way to forget Dean completely. Another sob racks my body. The rest of me wants to let him consume what is left.
The other night when Linc said it was time, I knew what he meant. It was time to tell him everything.
Time to let it all go. I’ve held on to it long enough, I know that, but a lot of what happened back then was my fault and accepting that has been difficult.
I barely notice when the door to the shower eases open. “Syl?” Linc breathes, deep concern etched across his face.
I don’t have the energy to stop him as he steps inside and shuts off the water. My teeth chatter, a chill settling deep into my bones.
A towel is wrapped around me, then he carries me into the bedroom. Drawers open and close while I sit shivering on the edge of the bed, my mind struggling to make sense of what is happening.
Dirty brown boots step into view, bringing an intense wave of heat. I sigh with relief, thankful for the comfort of his presence.
Once he has my T-shirt on, he grabs my hand and pulls me from the bed. My legs are wobbly and weak as he kneels down in front of me, holding out a pair of white cotton panties. I lift my foot, one at a time, without an ounce of humiliation.
If anyone has seen me at my worst, it’s Linc.
He stands; feathering his knuckles down my cheek as he stares down at me with eyes that promise everything will be okay.
God, I need that to be true.
But in order for me to ever be okay, I need something to drown this overwhelming guilt.
I should have loved him more.
I should have fought harder.
The regret is deep and troubling and all I want to do is forget.
Reaching up, I grip the back of Linc’s neck and pull him even closer to me. We land on the bed as my lips possess his in a singular quest to eliminate every emotion, every memory.
Every thought.
The taste of freedom is potent on his tongue. So is my shameless desire to claim it.
“Sylvie,” he mutters, one hand cupping my cheek.
I clutch the fabric of his shirt. “Linc, please, I need you.”
A noise rattles in his throat as I cling to him for dear life. “Let me hold you,” he whispers against my lips, bringing his hands to the sides of my face. His lips, the way they say my name, the way they kiss away the pain, I’ve finally found the relief I need.
“You need this. I need this. Let me give it to you.” I release an aching cry as Linc draws me even closer, wrapping me in his arms. “It’s no one’s fault. It’s not ours and it wasn’t his either. No one can be at fault for the way they feel.”
Instead of drowning in the suffocating guilt, I allow myself to be wrapped in the comfort, heat, and familiarity of Linc. Then I fall apart again. Only this time, when I’m finished, I don’t feel cold, empty, and alone.
I finally feel…free.
Blinking, I try to adjust my swollen eyes. My cheek is nestled in the crook of Linc’s shoulder and I inhale a long breath, his distinct smell enveloping me. His chin rests lightly on top of my head while my arm hugs his middle.
God, it feels so good here.
I don’t want to move from this spot.
His hand drifts up and down my back.
“What time is it?” I ask, my voice scratchy and raw as I rub my face against his shirt.
“Four thirty,” he answers softly.
“Shit!” Pushing against his chest, I try in vain to escape his warm embrace. “Caroline.”
He holds me tighter. “I already called your mom to pick her up. They’re going to get some ice cream then she’ll bring her home.”
He tucks my hair behind my ear, his fingers gliding across my cheek. “Thank you.”
“You’re exhausted.” His voice is soft, deep.
Knowing.
“You need to rest.”
“I don’t have time to rest. I have a daughter to take care of.”
“Well, who’s taking care of you?”
“I’m fine.”
“How is she supposed to get better if you don’t? You don’t talk about anything, Syl. Not with me, Caroline, your family, nobody. You’re closed off and you need to deal with this. It’s time to face it.”
I pull from his arms, and sigh gratefully when he releases me this time. I can’t look at him right now. It hurts too much. I’ll never be able to te
ll him the reason I sent him away or why I carry so much guilt over Dean’s death, because it would mean confessing my own secret and it’s too painful to even think about.
Sitting up in bed, I look down at the floor instead. Soft sunlight falls across the beige carpet in golden streams, so pure and warm, the exact opposite of how I feel inside.
“I don’t want to talk about him.”
I feel him scoot in behind me, the bed dipping as he moves closer. “I don’t wanna talk about him either. I wanna talk about you.” He presses a kiss to my lower back, and even with my shirt as a barrier between his lips and my skin it still causes goose bumps to ripple across my flesh. “You used to talk to me about everything.”
“Why didn’t you ever marry Charlotte?” I ask, diverting the attention from me.
He’s silent for a moment before he finally responds, “She’s a good woman. She deserves a man who will love her with his whole heart. Cherish her. Give her the life she’s always dreamed of. I couldn’t give that to her.”
“Why not?”
“Because the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do was hold her and love you. I just couldn’t do it anymore. I was lying to her, to myself. There’s only one woman I’ll ever want and that’s you.”
A spark of happiness flares in my chest with his words and the selfish part of me is so incredibly grateful for this man’s unrelenting loyalty and love, but then I’m reminded of the severe reality that I’m not what he needs, and I’m definitely not what he deserves.
“I need to get dressed before Caroline gets home,” I say, standing up, trying to mask my feelings.
He doesn’t say anything else as I go into the bathroom and shut the door, sliding down the hard wood to a heap on the floor, praying for the day when it doesn’t hurt so goddamn much.
When I finally emerge, I feel somewhat better, and deep down I know it’s because of him.
Because he’s here.
Regardless of if I want to admit it or not, I do need him. Linc has always been there, for every single good and bad moment in my life. Whether he was hundreds of miles away or right here, he’s always been there.
This is no different.
Linc is in the kitchen on the phone when I come down. His back is facing me as he leans forward on the counter. “Are you still nauseous?” he asks, and I surmise he must be talking to Gwynn. There’s a long moment of silence before he finally speaks again. “When is that appointment again? I haven’t asked her yet but I will. I know, Mom, I know. All right, I’ll be home later. Get some rest. I love you, too. Bye.”