by Naomi Niles
“I’m sorry, baby. You know I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
I opened my eyes then. The son of a bitch smiled at me. “Fuck you, Dylan. I want you out of here, today.”
His smile turned into a smirk. “This house belongs to my parents. I’m not going anywhere.”
I pushed up to a sitting position. “Fine, I’ll leave.”
He sighed. “Come on, Amber. I had a little too much to drink and you pissed me off. I wasn’t trying to hurt you. Come here, baby…” he reached for me, but I pushed back into the corner. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I laughed like a crazy person. “Oh, I don’t know, Dylan. It just dawned on me that I live with an abusive piece of shit who has an excuse for everything he does. A man who says he loves me, but the fact that I’m naked on the bathroom floor because I have a head injury that’s making me vomit begs to differ. I’m sick and tired of living like this. I want out.”
He ran his hand through his hair. It was thick and black, and he needed a haircut desperately. His face was also covered with three or four days’ worth of black stubble. His eyes were all bloodshot and his teeth were stained…he looked like shit. “Nine years, Amber – almost ten. We’ve been together for nine years. Are you just going to throw that away?”
“Dylan, can’t you see that there is nothing left here to throw away? You’re hardly ever here, and when you are, you’re drunk and mean as a snake. That’s no way to live. I hate my life. I want this to be over.”
“Amber-”
“No!” I grabbed hold of the counter and struggled to my feet. He tried to help me, but I shook him off. “No. I’m leaving, Dylan.”
That cocky look returned and he snorted. “You’ll be back.”
“No…not this time.” I’d left him twice before. Both times I made the mistake of letting him woo me back. Marlene told me if I left him this time, she’d take me in – but that if I went back to him, then that would be it.
“You’re fat and bitchy, and you can’t even carry a baby to term…” I slapped him, hard. He grabbed my arms and shoved me back into the wall. “Do not ever put your hands on me again.”
“You’re hurting my wrists,” I pleaded.
“Good,” he said as he let me go. I nearly fell to the ground, but caught myself. “You’re worthless. Get the fuck out of here.”
I got dressed and all I took with me was my purse and clean scrubs for work the next day. Dylan glared at me the whole time. When I got in my car and up the street, I pulled over and cried. I had to get it out of my system. When I finally stopped shaking and pulled myself together, I drove to my sister’s house. She opened the door and said, “I’m calling the cops.”
“Oh, Marlene, it’s early and I’m exhausted. Please don’t call the police. It’s going to scare Nona to have them here and think about your custody case if Jim gets wind of this.”
“So this piece of shit gets away with abusing you?”
“He didn’t lay a hand on me…” I saw her looking at my wrists then. “He grabbed my arms because I hit him. I fell and hit my head on the sink. Please, Marlene, I just want to lie down.”
She took my bag and led me to the guest room. She sat the bag down and said, “Are you going to work?”
“No, I already called off. I just need to sleep.”
She hugged me and there were tears in her eyes. “Please don’t go back.”
“I won’t.” I crawled into the bed as she turned off the light. A few minutes later, she brought me a pain pill. I didn’t even ask what it was. I took it, closed my eyes, and slipped off into a dream.
It was about Kyle.
Chapter Seven
KYLE
I woke up Wednesday morning aching to see Amber. I got up out of bed and instead of just sitting down in the wheelchair; I pushed it out into the living room. I could see Dad in the kitchen making breakfast. “Hey, Dad.”
He turned around and looked at me. What passed as a happy smile for my dad was a mildly amused one for others, but I knew the difference. “Well, look at you.”
I grinned. I was proud of myself. “Yep, I’ll be ready for that 5K by next week.”
He smiled again and said, “Don’t over-do it.”
“I won’t.” I looked at the clock and realized it was after seven. “Hey, why are you still here?” He usually left for work at six-thirty.
He made a face and said, “Come and sit down for a minute.” I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what I had to sit down for, but I did as he asked. He poured me a cup of coffee and sat it in front of me. Then he sat down with his and said, “Your mother called last night.”
I felt the stirrings of old anger in my belly every time anyone mentioned her. “What did she want?”
“She ran into Michael the other day and I guess he mentioned you being sick…”
“Shit.”
“Ah, you know how Michael is. He just wasn’t thinking. Anyways, she’s still in town. She leaves this afternoon and she’d like to see you.”
“No.”
“Kyle, you know that I’ve always left that choice to you and your sister. You have a right to be angry with her. But I just want you to be sure. Your illness is just proof that we never know what’s going to happen from one day to the next.”
I’ve never told anyone, but my biggest argument with having anything to do with my mother is that I’ll forget how angry I am with her. She deserves my anger and Sarah’s, and even twenty-six years later, I hate the thought of letting her off the hook. “Are the kids with her?” I noticed that when I’m tired or stressed it gets even harder for me to form my words. I wondered if she’d even be able to understand me.
“I reckon.”
“Will you be here?”
He looked at his watch. “I can be.”
I’m twenty-seven years old. I can do this on my own. “No, Dad, go to work.”
“I don’t mind, son.”
“I know you don’t, Dad. That’s good enough. Go to work.”
He nodded. He had to be worn out from all of that talking. I laughed to myself at that. “What?” he said.
“Nothing. I love you, Dad.”
He looked uncomfortable, but God bless him, he said, “I love you, too, son.”
*******
My mother and my thirteen- and fourteen-year-old step-siblings Brenda and Reece showed up about an hour after my dad left. As soon as I opened the door, she threw herself into me and began to cry. So fucking dramatic. I looked over her shoulder at Brenda and Reece, they looked embarrassed. “Mom…can’t breathe.”
She stood up and wiped at her face with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry. Oh, Kyle, I’m so sorry.” I rolled back from the door and said,
“Come in…I’m…not dying.” They followed me in, and I looked at the kids who I hadn’t seen in at least four years. “You guys got…big.”
Brenda smiled, and Reece rolled his eyes. “I’m glad you’re okay,” Brenda said shyly.
I smiled at her. “Me, too. Sit.”
My mother sat down on the couch and reached for my hand. I wanted to pull away, but I kept my father’s words in my head and I let her take it. “How are you?” she said.
“I’m okay. I’m doing therapy.”
“And they’re sure it wasn’t cancer?”
“Yes.”
“They got it all?”
“Yes.”
“Do they know what caused it?”
“No.”
“Kyle, I’m just so glad you’re okay. Are you alright here with your father? Do you need anything?”
I raised an eyebrow. I mustered all of my strength and from the time I opened my mouth until the time I finished the snide sentence, fifteen minutes passed. “I’ve…been…okay with my father for twenty…six….years.” Her face looked like I slapped her and I felt instantly guilty, but why should I? What kind of woman abandons her kids?
She looked over at Reece and Brenda and said, “Would you two mind waiting outside for a min
ute?” Brenda looked like she was ready to cry, and Reese rolled his eyes again.
“Come on, the same old soap opera is on in here,” he said as he looked at his sister.
“Bye, Kyle,” Brenda said. She’s sweet and she’s my little sister and I should feel something more for her than I do, but I don’t. I wonder if that makes me a bad person.
“Bye, Brenda. Bye, Reece.” Reece didn’t acknowledge me. I didn’t hold it against him. I remember what it was like to be fourteen.
When they were gone my mother said, “You’ve said it yourself, Kyle – it’s been twenty-six years. I was twenty-one years old. The difference between twenty-one and forty-seven is a whole world. I’m not that selfish, scared young girl any longer and I wish that some day before I die that you and your sister will realize that. I’ve lived in my own personal hell all of these years for what I did to you both. If there was anything I could do to make it up to you, I would.”
“There’s not.”
She was blinking back tears again. I’ve seen them more times than I can count. They don’t mean anything coming from her. “I’m sorry.”
“Okay.”
“Will you call me if you need anything?”
“Probably not.” She stood up and picked up her purse. She looked like she was going to say something else, but she changed her mind and headed for the door. Before she got there it was pushed open and Greg framed the doorway. Another person I really don’t want to see.
“Hey there, Miss… What’s your name now?”
“Brown,” my mother said with a sniffle. “Hello, Greg.” Mom and Greg had met on two of her other guilt visits. She turned to look at me one last time before she left.
When she was gone Greg said, “If you’re in a forgiving mood-”
“I’m not,” I interrupted. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah, I’m ready.”
*******
I tried to get back the mood I was in when I woke up this morning, but my mother and my former best friend had both ruined it. Hopefully, seeing Amber would do it for me. Greg parked the car in front of the clinic, so I pushed the chair inside. The lady that was at the counter a lot saw me come in and said, “Well, look at you after only two weeks. I’m impressed.”
I smiled. “Thank you.”
“I’ll let Amber know you’re here.”
“Thanks.” Just the sound of her name sent little jolts through my body. I’d barely sat down when she called for me. I got behind the chair again and pushed it over to the door. I was already smiling – until I saw her face. “Amber…your face?”
She smiled and then winced. Her forehead was bruised and had a spot that she’d tried to cover with make-up and her hair, and her right eye was black. “I slipped in the bathroom,” she said. “Come on back. It looks like you’re ready for the parallel bars.”
I followed her back, but I couldn’t stop thinking about that gash on her head. “Amber,” she turned to face me and I put my hand out and gently touched her forehead. She closed her eyes for just a second before she pulled back. “Are you sure?”
“Am I sure what, Kyle?”
“You’re okay?”
She nodded. “Let’s get to work,” she said. We started with the basic leg exercises and then we switched it up and did some speech therapy. As the session went on, both of our moods got lighter. After the speech therapy, we went to the parallel bars. She had me practice lifting my right leg and making it move with the left. I had to concentrate hard on it and even then it would only scrape along the floor about an inch at a time. It felt heavier than the other leg.
“Not as easy as it looks,” I told her. It was about five feet from start to finish. I’d taken three steps and I still had about four and a half feet to go. She smiled. Even bruised up, she was gorgeous.
“No, it’s not, but you’re doing great. I don’t expect you to do the whole length today.”
“I bet I could do it with a little more incentive,” I said, feeling brave all of a sudden. Before I got sick I was kind of a cocky S.O.B. I never had any trouble asking a woman out. I’d always assumed she would say yes. But brain surgery and recovery can definitely hurt a guy’s confidence.
“Incentive? Like a candy bar if you make it to the end?”
“I don’t eat candy.”
“Oh, well what then?”
I took another step. “Dinner?”
“You want me to buy you dinner?” I laughed and took another step. My fucking leg felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.
“No…I’ll buy…you just eat…with me.”
“Oh, like a date?”
Another step, I was almost halfway there. “Yeah.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t date my patients.” She was killing me. I took another step.
“Okay…no date. Just…celebration.” I was sweating as I took my next step.
“Where would this ‘celebration’ take place?”
“Abacus?”
She laughed. I took another step and estimated I had about five more to go. “Abacus is kind of expensive for a celebration. It’s more of a date place.”
“Oh…McDonalds?”
She laughed again. “Okay, tell you what. You pick up that foot on each one of the next four or five steps to the end and Abacus it is.”
Shit. “Okay.” I stopped talking and poured everything I had into it. I even blocked out the fact that she was watching me with those incredibly sexy green eyes. It took me a good fifteen minutes, but I did it! I looked up at Amber. She was clapping. I was cocky enough to try and take a bow and nearly fell on my face. She caught me, and I suddenly found myself with the most beautiful creature on earth in my arms. I lost my mind a little bit – I couldn’t help it. I brought my lips down and I kissed her. She didn’t move and if I had to swear to it in a court of law, she kissed me back. Then, she pulled her head away and gave me one of those looks Sarah reserves for when I’ve done something bad. I just grinned. I kissed her.
Chapter Eight
AMBER
I stood in front of the mirror and wondered what the hell I was doing. I moved out of Dylan’s house less than a week ago. Kyle is a patient and no matter what we called this, it was a date. I fidgeted with the bracelets on my wrists. I’d put foundation over the yellowing bruises there and the bracelets were thick enough that I was hoping they’ll keep them covered. It’s eighty degrees out, so I thought I might look a little stupid sweating at Abacus in long sleeves.
“Amber?” Marlene was tapping on my door. She’d sat up with me late last night as I agonized over whether or not I should do this.
“Yeah, come in.”
She stepped in and sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh, honey, you look gorgeous.”
“Thank you. I’m a nervous wreck.”
“Why? You said he’s a really nice guy, right?”
“Yeah, but it’s so soon…”
“Are you kidding? That so-called ‘relationship’ you were in with the cowboy was over a long time ago. He fell in love with a whiskey bottle and nobody will ever come before that. You deserve so much more.”
I smiled. I wasn’t sure why I should deserve more, but it was a nice thought. “Well, here goes then. This is the first date I’ve been on without Dylan since I was fifteen years old.”
“Good. Go and see what it’s supposed to be like.” She kissed my cheek, and I grabbed my bag and headed out. I told Kyle I’d pick him up at seven. He offered to drive and I laughed. I did hope he was kidding. I put his address in my GPS. He lived on a quiet little residential street at the end of a cul de sac. It looked homey and inviting, with a neat and tidy front lawn. With butterflies taking flight in my stomach, I knocked on the door. It was pulled inward by the big man I’d seen at the hospital. His dad, I presumed.
“Hi, is Kyle here?” I felt like a teenager. He smiled…I think.
“Yes, come in.” He closed the door behind me and said, “Have a seat, he’ll be right out.” I thanked him as he disappeared down the
hallway.
I sat down in the comfortable little living room and thought about running away – right up until I saw the most beautiful sight I may have ever seen. Kyle came out of the bedroom in his chair. He had on a brown silk shirt and a nice pair of tan slacks. He was wearing brown cowboy boots and for the first time since the hospital, he wasn’t wearing a ball cap.
“Hi,” he said with that smile that sets my insides on fire.
“Hi. Wow…you look…”
“I’m the one with the speech problems.”
I laughed. “Not tonight, apparently. You look amazing.”
He looked down at himself and said, “I kind of thought I did – until you got here. You’re beautiful, Amber.” I felt my face go hot. I couldn’t remember the last time a man told me I was beautiful – except for my father, but that doesn’t count. Marlene talked me into buying this little black dress and she loaned me a pair of heels that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk in. I’m glad now that she did.
“Thank you. Are you ready?”
“Yep.” He easily maneuvered himself out the front door and down the sidewalk to the car. “If you open the trunk, I’ll put the chair in-”
“Get in the car.”
“I don’t want you lifting the chair.” His speech was still slow, but it was getting a lot clearer. I was really proud of the progress he’s making, but I was sorry he wasted all of those words.
I laughed. “I’m a therapist. I do it all day. Get in the car.”
“You’re kind of bossy,” he said with a grin.
“Yep,” I said, borrowing his favorite word.
On the way to the restaurant, he asked me questions about my family and growing up on the ranch. Even with his speech impediment, he was a much better conversationalist than Dylan. When we drove up in front of the restaurant I asked,
“Have you eaten here before?”
“Only once,” he said. “For Sarah’s birthday a few years back. My dad hated it.” He laughed.
“I’ve never been inside. I almost feel like I should have rented a nicer car.”
“Stop,” he said, laughing. “The night we came, I was out on a job. I drove the contractor’s pick-up and had the valet park it.”