New Forever

by Yessi Smith

  See? A successful day.

  Yet here I am, awake and anxious.

  My heart turns in knots and I know Max is to blame. I don’t want to think about him anymore so I try not to. But my heart has never been good at listening to me. Even when I’m laughing, my mind circles back to him. Even though he’s not here—he’s everywhere. I can’t escape him or my longing to be with him. I feel him in the ever-present beating of my heart, in my lungs with every inhale and exhale I take. He’s inside of me and I know I’ll never be able to rid myself of him. Damn it, I miss him and my overly perceptive heart tells me that all the missing him in the world won’t bring him back. He left me, without a reason or explanation. Just a quiet goodbye and he was gone.

  I want to hate him, but my heart isn’t ready to let go of the love I feel for him.

  Stupid demanding heart.

  I try not to make any noise when I get off the bed so I don’t wake up Dee, and quietly walk over to the living area. I sit on the couch with my phone in my hand and damn Max to hell for not calling or texting me.

  How had I become one of those silly girls who wait for a phone call that’ll never come?

  “Spill,” Dee startles me away from my thoughts when she breaks the silence with her tired voice.

  I look back at her and shrug. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “No shit. Why?” She yawns into her hand and waits for me to answer.

  “Bad food.” I pat my stomach for emphasis, but the look on her face tells me she doesn’t believe a word of my lie.

  “You’re an even worse liar than me.” She sits down beside me on the couch and leans back with her eyes closed. “You planned a penis free weekend one morning and we took off that same day, you’ve drank more wine than any one person should consume, you sought vengeance on a guy you’ve never met, you haven’t spoken or texted Max all day, and now you can’t sleep.”

  “I’m on the rag,” I reply, but my voice sounds uncertain, making it come off as a question. I feel Dee’s foot kick me hard on my ankle. “Bitch.”

  “Do I need to get us more wine?” she asks, without bothering to get up.

  “Max broke up with me yesterday morning,” I confess and her head shoots up to look straight at me.

  I’m proud when my face remains impassive and doesn’t show the emotions raging inside of me. I like being the strong girl, the girl who doesn’t cry, but I also hate hiding how I feel. I hate when no one notices how torn apart inside I really am, and a big part of me is grateful that Dee saw right through my façade.

  “Broke up with you?” she asks, sounding as confused as I feel. “I figured you guys just had a bad fight.”

  “He packed his shit and left.” I shrug as if I don’t care and leave out the little fact that he transferred a good portion of his money into my bank account.

  As if I wanted it, but I’ll take his guilt money and spend it, all the while hoping he chokes on his guilt in the middle of the night.

  “What did he say?” I feel her wrap her arms around me and I lean into her as the tears start to stream down my face.

  “He didn’t, at least not really. He just said we were done and took all of his stuff. I asked him why. My God, I practically begged him to not leave, but he’s done with me. He wouldn’t even look at me before he left.” I feel my shoulders shake as my sobs become harder, more ruthless.

  “That doesn’t make any sense.” Her voice sounds far away, but she holds on to me while I weep in her arms. After an endless bout of tears and soothing, I finally feel my eyelids grow heavy.

  “It doesn’t matter, Dee. He’s gone. He’s not coming back. I’m sorry,” I whisper, remembering he’s a part of her wedding court. “Your wedding – I’m so sorry. He’ll still walk it,” I reassure her. “We’ll be civil.”

  “I don’t care about that.” She shrugs away my apology. “Screw civility. We’re gonna fight for him and if he proves to be a jackass, his fate will be far worse than Blotchy’s.”

  “We?” I laugh, holding onto that small word. Dee’s friendship and loyalty never ceases to amaze me. Our bond goes far beyond most friendships and makes us a family.

  “We’re a partnership so yeah, we.”

  “What if I don’t want to fight for him?” I ask, even though I know deep down I’d fight the demons of Hell themselves just to have him back.

  She rolls her eyes at me, knowing me far too well.

  “Right.” I nod. “Lets get some sleep.” I take Dee’s hand and guide her to bed where she puts her arm around my waist.

  “Okay,” she agrees, “but tomorrow we start Operation: Bring Max Back To His Senses.”

  I nod, although I can’t help but wonder if the reason Max left me is because he did, in fact, already come to his senses. Hearts and bones can be fixed, but broken minds? There’s no fixing broken minds, and my mind is broken beyond repair. Although I try to hide it and do a pretty good job of it, maybe he finally realized what was behind my always present smile and got the hell out before I broke him too.

  Safe, in my best friend’s arms, my mind finally shuts off and I fall asleep while I keep a safe distance from her prickly legs where the hairs on her legs have already started to grow back.

  Whoever said sleeping and dreams were peaceful never spent a night in my brain. Rather than rest, I dreamt. I dreamt about none other than Max and I wept in my dreams for a love that had never been mine.

  “Did you honestly think I could love someone like you?” he demands, grabbing my shoulders with a rough shake.

  “You do love me,” I plead, my own voice sounding pathetic even to me.

  “Don’t be stupid, Hay. You were a distraction.” His grey eyes stare at me hard as if they were penetrating my soul. “A fun distraction, but still you meant nothing to me.”

  I wrap my arms protectively around my shoulders and hug myself tight.

  He doesn’t love me.

  “I never loved you,” he corrects my thoughts. “How can I love someone so selfish, someone who isn’t worth loving?”

  I inhale sharply at his harsh words, knowing they’re true. He’s right, how can anyone love me? The only person who ever loved me killed herself because I was incapable of being there for her.

  From behind Max, I see a familiar face and I almost run to her, but Hannah points at me and shakes her head. And it’s obvious she can’t love me anymore either.

  I wake with a start and hurry to the bathroom where I dispense all the bad thoughts and emotions into the toilet. Running the shower so Dee can’t hear me, I cry into my hands, knowing I can never outrun my true feelings. Five years ago, I destroyed Hannah and myself.

  I slowly lift my hands in the air and turn around to show the man with the gun that I am unarmed. I even try to smile my most unthreatening smile that probably ends up looking more like a grimace. Great, now I’m not just some guy breaking into his place, I’m also a lunatic that smiles when a gun is pointed at his face.

  I assess the man quickly – late-fifties, tired eyes, strong build. Even in my current wrecked condition I know I could tackle him and take control of the situation. If that is what I wanted, but surprisingly I don’t want the easy way out. I want what’s just.

  Hayley has made me want to be a better person, so I face this man ready for him to shoot me or call the police. I deserve either or both.

  “You ain’t on drugs,” he tells me, apparently having done his own analysis of me. I nod.

  “No, sir. I don’t do drugs.”

  “Whatcha need my laptop for then?”

  “Work,” I answer honestly.

  “What kind of work?”

  He seems genuinely curious, so I decide to answer him. Besides, the longer I talk to him, the more likely I’ll leave here without any bullet holes in my body. Maybe. I mean, if he wanted to shoot me, he’d have shot me by now, right?

  “Web design,” I sigh. “I got mugged. They broke my laptop.” I try to hand him my backpack so he can see the broken pieces of my laptop
inside but he declines.

  “So you think you can just rob me?” His anger has resurfaced and it’s pretty obvious he won’t be letting me go, so I shrug.

  “Yeah. Seemed like a good idea at the time.” And like a bipolar time bomb, I go from polite to condescending. Maybe I do have a death wish.

  “Don’t seem like such a good idea anymore, huh, boy?”

  I shrug again as if I face off with guns and upset business owners every day. “I’ve had better ideas. Sir,” I tag on as an afterthought in the hopes my polite demeanor will somehow make him lower his gun.

  I see a smile spread across his face and I feel the sweat build up on the palm of my hands when he laughs. Thankfully, it’s not some out of control, maniacal laugh. Just a regular laugh from a man who finds something funny. So I smile back at him cautiously, even though I can feel my heart rate accelerate to an unnatural speed.

  I hate not being in control, and it’s taking every ounce of willpower to not take control. How easy it’d be to disarm him and walk out of here with a laptop I very much need. Having a conscience sucks. Having a conscience named Hayley that I can’t escape, sucks even more.

  “Tell you what,” he says, finally lowering his gun and I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “You get one phone call. If someone can come pick ya up, I won’t call the cops.”

  “And if I don’t have anyone to call?” I ask and he shrugs in the same manner I had shrugged at him earlier. I almost laugh at him, the condescending prick.

  He’ll call the cops. My head starts to pound, or maybe it’s been pounding since my earlier altercation that left me bruised and bloody, and I just hadn’t noticed it. But now, the pounding in my head and behind my eyes is undeniable. I close my eyes for a second, not trusting a man with a gun who has every right to shoot me for too long. The pain I hadn’t felt before radiates throughout my body and, to be honest, the only thing I crave right now is some sleep. On the street, in a jail cell, on the floor of a computer repair shop.

  The reality of my situation taunts me. The only people I can call are Hayley, Dee, and Adam—none of which I want to call. None of which I want to see me in my current state. All of which probably hate me for hurting their friend, and if they don’t hate me they should.

  Jail it is.

  I look down at my shoes, not wanting to make eye contact with the man. I don’t want to see his pity when I tell him I have no one. “I don’t have anyone.” The truth of my words sticks in my throat until I feel as if I will choke on each syllable. I don’t have anyone.

  “I’m sorry, kid.” Surprisingly, he does look apologetic. “I can’t leave you roaming the streets, not in the condition you’re in anyway.”

  I nod my head. I get it. He thinks I’m a danger, a menace, but really the only danger or menace I pose is to myself.

  The police arrive with their sirens blaring and lights flashing. A full on production just for me. After assessing me thoroughly, they decide to take me to the hospital first. Which is great, maybe they’ll give me something for my pounding head and sore ribs.

  With my hands cuffed, I sit in the back of the police car not bothering to talk or plead my case. I don’t have a foot to stand on, what good would pleading anything do? I’ll spend a night, maybe two in jail, get a PR bond and owe even more money, without a source of income or a place to stay.

  I’m a damn genius. Someone knock Einstein off his high horse, and tell him about me. He’d be impressed, I’m sure.

  At the hospital, I answer the necessary questions with simple one-word answers that can neither implicate me or the lowlife thugs that left me with my life in further shambles. They could have broken every bone in my body and I wouldn’t have cared. But my laptop?

  The old part of me wants to resurface and seek revenge, but I suppress the need, suffocating myself in the process. I do it for Hayley, because if she knew what I’m capable of, what I’ve done in the past, it would hurt her. I can’t chance her finding out. Just one more secret I have to keep from her, all in the name of protection. A standup hero is what I’m turning out to be.

  After the nurses stitch me up, clean up my cuts, an elderly doctor comes in with my X-Ray results.

  “Whoever did this to you did a bang up job,” he says and I chuckle.

  “What’s the damage?” I ask, not really caring. I already know I hurt like hell. Even breathing is a chore.

  “Couple bruised ribs. Nothing a night in a comfortable jail cell won’t fix.”

  Doc’s got jokes, and somehow that’s just what I need.

  “The beds can’t be too shabby,” I tell him, not bothering to hide my smile. “Besides, I hear inmates are treated better than patients at nursing homes.”

  “Free room and board, plus free food. Sounds like a win-win.”

  “Yeah,” I agree.

  “Until Bubba tries to make you his girlfriend.”

  “And you gotta pay bail,” I add and he lets out a throaty laugh.

  “You know,” he says, sitting on my bed, “the store owner talked to the cops and they said they’d cut you a deal if you tell them who did this to you.”

  Cut me a deal? This guy watches too much television. I’ll spend twenty-four hours in jail at the most for my petty crime. But his words stump me long enough to make him cough for my attention. I simply don’t understand why the store owner would offer to help me out in any way. I did a lot more than just inconvenience him with my little break in, but I believe the doctor. Even with a gun pointed at me, the man looked kind—tired but kind. The kind of tired that speaks of years of struggles. I’m not sure where the kindness factors in, but maybe he saw something in me worth saving. I’ll never see him again, but I hope to prove him right.

  “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t do it. I didn’t see their faces.” Except for the kid, butalthough I know it’s stupid, I want to protect him. He’s just a kid after all, who’s probably never had anyone protect him before. Could it be possible that I too saw something in a stranger worth saving? Or did his foot slamming against my head do some sort of irrevocable damage that’s left me unable to make lucid decisions?

  “Right.” He stands up. “I’ll get you a prescription for pain pills.”

  “Don’t bother. I’ll deal with the pain.” I decide, no longer wanting to abate the pain. “Just ask them to un-cuff me so I can get dressed and we can get out of here. I don’t want to leave Bubba waiting too long.” I wink at my doctor and he leaves with another throaty laugh.

  Although I ask for a private cell, I’m shoved into a group cell. I walk in comfortably, making eye contact with anyone I catch staring at me and with a scowl on my face, I sit in a corner with my back against the wall. I haven’t looked in any mirrors yet, but I know I look rough. If I can maintain an attitude of roughness, I’ll be left alone. Just one more tidbit I learned years ago.

  The cell smells of men, but it’s not what women mean when they speak of masculinity. There’s no clean smelling deodorant or cologne here. Having made a quick but thorough assessment, I sit in an unoccupied corner and keep my eyes trained on any individuals who stare at me for too long. I hear but ignore the comments aimed at me and keep my hands from twitching when someone circles in front of me.

  I cough back a laugh when he stands in front of me and simply stare back at him through unblinking eyes. I relax the muscles in my corded neck when he jabs a finger in my direction and cracks his knuckles. What a wasteful move on his part. I won’t be intimidated, I’m not fresh meat. Never moving from my spot in the corner, I plant my feet apart and feel my nostrils flare until he moves away from me, shrugging his shoulders as if he is readying for a fight. The silence in the room grows while I continue to watch the man until he sits back down across from me. Obviously not one to get side tracked very easily, the man laughs in my direction and throws insults at me to prove who the lesser man is. I bite back my retorts, but continue to glare in his direction when a growl escapes from my throat. He shakes his head and laughs one
last time at me, knowing he’s proven his point. He’s the veteran with more balls in his court—congratulations. I want to applaud his accomplishments, but remain quiet in my corner.

  The pain in my side and ribs is intolerable, but I use the pain to keep me awake and remain seated in my corner, even when my name is called.

  “You get one phone call, kid,” the police officer repeats.

  What the hell is it with people calling me ‘boy’ and ‘kid’ tonight? I’m a grown ass man.

  “Don’t need one,” I reply, knowing tomorrow morning I’ll be set free when someone in the state attorney’s office reviews my history and deems me reasonably fit to be kicked back into society. Why waste taxpayers’ dollars when there are actual crimes to deal with?

  I spend the rest of the night with my eyes closed, but listening intently to the men around me. I’ll be damned if I let Bubba anywhere near me.

  I squint up at the sky and curse the morning sun. I don’t have sunglasses, but I do have a colossal headache that Mother Nature is screwing me with. My vision wavers as I step onto the sidewalk, ready to camp out for the day in my new home – under the overpass about fifteen blocks away.

  “You could go that way,” a familiar voice stops me in my tracks and I spin around to face Adam. Of course. Why wouldn’t he somehow find out about this? “Or you could go home with me.”

  “Thanks for the offer, buttercup, but I like my options on the street better.”

  “Quit being a hard ass and get in the car.”

  “How’d you even know where I was?” I ask, not ready to face the rest of the day on my own.

  “I know the girl who booked you from my Wasted Circle days. She remembered you from the barbecues she’d went to. You must’ve made a damn good impression for her to recognize you under all that,” he says, waving his hand in front of my bruised face.