Fighting Pride

by Jennifer Miller

  I cried the whole drive back to my hotel and I honestly can’t determine if it’s because I’m sad or livid. Am I sad that I’ve spent the last few days with him, or angry? Angry that I let him get into my head, my heart, or am I sad? Am I sad that I let myself feel something for Cole again? Who am I kidding? I’m livid because I never stopped feeling for him and instead of letting it fade away, I tapped into those old emotions again. Am I sad that I actually thought that perhaps he was feeling things too? Or am I livid because clearly he doesn’t?

  After being with him today, as I laid in his arms afterward, I let myself daydream. I dreamed that I would go back home, but he would come after me, or beg me to stay. I dreamed that he would tell me that he loves me, and ask me to consider exploring a future with him. I let my stupid heart feel like maybe there could be a future for us. That this week doesn’t have to be our last if we didn’t want it to – and I knew that I didn’t. I let myself think that somehow that beautiful little girl we had managed to bring us together again. How ridiculous it all seems now.

  I never expected the reaction I received from him when he saw me at his fight. I know I didn’t tell him I was going, nor did he ask me to attend, but I wanted to surprise him. To show him that I care about what he does, that it matters to me. I wanted to see how far he’s come, to revel in a world I know he’s always loved. I wanted to share part of his life with him. He seemed so angry, so hell bent on getting me out of there. The guys all tried to convince me over and over, telling me I’ll make him nervous, or for some reason he was worried about my safety, or that he would lose because he’d only be concentrating on me. It was all bullshit. I could see even they didn’t believe the shit they were saying and they were just as concerned about Cole and his strange behavior as I was. So I refused to go. Clearly that was a mistake. And how many others have there been? Jerry let me know that I was one of many. Is that what made Cole angry…is that why he wanted me to leave…didn’t want me to find out the truth that way?

  Sitting in the chaise by the window I curl up in a ball and swipe at my watering eyes. Curled up like this makes me catch Cole’s scent, still on my clothes, on my skin, so I’m out of my seat in a second and in the bathroom stripping. Turning on the water, I let it warm before ducking under the spray and letting it comfort me. After a moment, I grab the soap and lather it, anxious to get any remaining scent of him off of my body. As I wash each part, memories of his lips kissing there, hands brushing, tickling or nuzzling makes me scrub harder and harder.

  Tears begin to fall down my cheeks making me curse, “No, dammit. I will not let him do this to me again. Just stop. I’ve cried enough tears to last me a lifetime over Cole Ryland Russell.”

  Forcing myself to finish my shower even though a big part of me wants to sink to the bottom and lose myself, I quickly dress and then hook my phone up to a charger deciding some music is a good idea. Scrolling through my playlist I select Birdy’s album. I love this music and it also suits my current mood. Unable to sit because of where my mind immediately goes, I begin moving around the room and gathering my things to pack up. Having spent a week in this room, my stuff is all over the place so with methodical movements I fold and pack everything in its rightful place, working hard to turn my thoughts toward my trip home tomorrow, then in a little more than a week, I’ll be headed to California for my next gallery showing. This place will be in my rearview mirror.

  Cole had asked if he could take me to the airport, so I was going to have him follow me while I returned my rental car, but screw it, I’ll handle it myself as soon as I wake up and then call an Uber to take me to the airport. If I know him, he’ll show up here tomorrow ready to take me like nothing ever happened tonight, but I don’t plan on being here when he arrives. I’m done.

  At the thought, my chest aches and a sob gets caught in my throat. I try, I really try to push it aside, but it’s too much. Instead, I give in, and I let it all go. The dam breaks open. I rant and rave at a world that it would provide me a second opportunity with the love of my life only to have it be spoiled yet again. I shake my fist at my traitorous heart for falling for him again. I remind my brain that it is smarter than this, and for good measure, remind my emotions they are not in control. Holding my head in my hands, I sob. I sob and somewhere inside of me, while I hate that I’m in this place, I also thank god for it because for years I couldn’t feel a damn thing. On some level, I know I’ve come a long way, and while right now, that doesn’t offer me comfort, I know later it will. And so I hang onto that, and I stand up, and I wipe my face, and I decide to do what I always do, I keep moving forward.

  There’s a loud knock at the door and it makes me jump. I remain still a moment thinking maybe it’s just a kid in the hallway fooling around, but there’s a knock again. Looking out the peephole I am shocked to see Cole standing there, and it’s not just his presence that shocks me, it’s how horribly beat to hell up he is. My hand immediately moves to the handle to let him in, to ask if he’s okay, to offer comfort, but I stop. Dropping my hand, I step back. Letting him in will only make us repeat the same cycle and I don’t want to play this game anymore.

  “Tatum, it’s Cole. I know you’re in there. I can hear your music playing.” I remain still, not saying a word. “Tatum, please let me in. I’d like the chance to explain.” He knocks on the door again several times before I hear him curse and sigh. “Tatum, I’m not leaving. I will stay right here and keep knocking every five minutes until you answer the door. I’ll stay here all night if I have to. I don’t have anywhere else to be. I’d hate to have to break the door down, but I will.” I jump when I hear something hit the door that isn’t a knock, and then there’s the sound of him sliding down the door to sit on the floor. “Tatum, please.”

  Placing both my hands on the door, I fight with myself. Do I really want to leave things like this with him? I’ve left here once an absolute mess and I don’t want to do it again. I am stronger than this. It doesn’t matter what he says; I still get to make a decision that is right for me. And, besides, I don’t want to always wonder what would have happened or what he would have said if I had just opened the door. I want closure this time around; if nothing else I need that. I deserve that – damn what he needs. So, after he knocks again, keeping his promise to do so every five minutes, I open the door. He falls into the doorway immediately, not expecting it to open, but he’s on his feet immediately and walks inside. His large frame immediately takes up the space and I step back and cross my arms over my chest. “Thank you,” he says.

  “You look like shit.”

  “I know,” he says with a smile that’s actually more of a grimace given the pain he has to be in. For some reason that only manages to piss me off.

  “What do you want, Cole? I let you in, so say your piece and then go.”

  “I just – I want to apologize for earlier.”

  “So apologize. And then leave.”

  “Please don’t be like that.”

  “You don’t get to tell me how to be. Not after the way you spoke to me. I’ve never been so humiliated. And after…after what had just happened between us hours before.” I fade off not wanting to think about it.

  His head falls and he squeezes the bridge of his nose between his fingers, “Tatum, I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you earlier, I really am. I know you don’t understand, but I was acting that way because I was nervous. I didn’t want you around Jerry.”

  “Why? What does Jerry have to do with anything? Is this because of the way he acted? The guys said at dinner that he’s always like that. In fact, they said they don’t know why you put up with it. So what’s the deal with him?” And there it is. The look on his face that tells me exactly what he’s about to say – in some ways I still know him well. “Don’t,” I beat him to the punch, “Don’t you dare. If you even think about telling me again that you can’t tell me anything, I will lose it. Because if that’s the case then why the hell are you even here? I’m not playing this game with you a
nymore, Cole, do you hear me? I’m done. Clearly whatever secret it is that you’re keeping, it’s more important than anything else to you, you’ve made that clear. But you know what? Hear me when I say this. You’re a liar.”

  “A liar? How?”

  “At Hope’s grave, when you told me that the reason everything happened five years ago between us was because you were saving me, I said that maybe I didn’t want to be saved. Do you remember what you said to me?” He nods his head, but doesn’t speak. “You said life can be taken so quickly, so easily. And that being alive is a gift. You said that being alive and living our lives is the only way that we continue to keep Hope alive. But you know what the funny thing is, Cole? I’ve been with you for a few days and even I’ve seen during that time, that whatever this is that you’re doing…it’s not living at all. You’re going through the motions, you’re living your life for someone else, you’re not living it for you, or for her, and so you are nothing but a hypocrite.”

  “Tatum-”

  “No. I’m done. I don’t have anything else to say to you. Take your secrets and go.”

  “Tatum,” he sighs, “I don’t want to leave like this.”

  “Do you know, that I actually had it in my head that maybe we could try again? Can you believe how stupid that is? Go ahead. Laugh,” and I take my own advice and start laughing. I start laughing so hard that tears start rolling down my face and I bend over at my waist. “Oh god, it’s so funny really. Stupid Tatum mistakes a pity fuck for love and the possibility of something more. I can’t believe I’m so dumb for you.”

  “Don’t say that, that’s not what that was.”

  “You don’t give a shit about me, Cole. GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!”

  He walks to me and grabs my upper arms, shaking me in frustration, “No! I will not leave like this. You’ve got it all wrong.”

  I knock his arms off of me and smack him across the face. Hard. “I’m DONE with this. I’m DONE with you. All you’ve EVER cared about is yourself. I’ll admit, you had me going there, I actually believed that maybe I had it all wrong. I mean, I remember, boy do I remember, when you told me that you couldn’t handle my depression. That you couldn’t handle my unhappiness, and that you couldn’t live that way anymore. On one hand you say those things to me, and those are my memories of you. Then I come here and you say that losing me killed you. You say you lose yourself in me. You surround yourself in my paintings, and why is that? So you can remind yourself of a poor choice, a lucky escape, what you threw out of your life? Well I’m putting a stop to that. You aren’t going to do this to me again. I’m done with your secrets, and I am done with your lies.”

  “Those things I said to you, they’re true. You are everything to me,” he says softly and I’m not sure I heard him correctly, but just the thought makes me laugh again.

  “Right. I can tell. Just leave, Cole, for god sakes, let’s stop this drama show between us, it’s exhausting. Just go.”

  “Everything…. everything I’ve done I did it for you.”

  “I don’t want to hear it. I told you to leave!” I yell at him.

  He looks me dead in the eyes, “EVERYTHING I’ve done is for you,” he screams and the agony in his voice leaves me breathless.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I made a deal. I made a deal to save you.”

  “A deal?”

  “God, Tatum. You were so broken. During those months after we lost Hope, the only time I would see you smile was when I would bring you home books of art from the library. You would go through the pages, your fingers lingering on some pictures, tracing others, a smile on your lips and a light in your eyes. It was the only time I’d see flashes of the way you were before…” His voice fades and he begins to pace and I don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it. “You know what’s funny? I used to hate those fucking books. I brought them home anyway, but I hated them so much because I had long since quit being able to illicit that kind of response from you no matter what I did, no matter what I said, but those books got one every time. Jealous of a book, it’s ridiculous, but it was like you couldn’t hear me anymore, couldn’t see me. I didn’t know what to do.”

  “After one particularly bad night after I came home the third day in a row to find that you hadn’t moved for the entire day, I lost it. When I left for work that morning, you were sitting in the chair looking out the window and when I returned hours later, you were in the same spot. Tears running down your cheeks, pain in your eyes. I just,” his voice breaks, “like I said, I lost it. I’m ashamed to admit that I couldn’t handle it. I left. I left and I went to the gym and I worked out my frustration and pain on the bag. I beat it until I was so exhausted I had to be carried into the locker room. Ryder was pissed of course because that’s how he acts when he cares, and he confronted me in the locker room, wanting to know what the hell was going on with me, and so I told him. I told him everything. I hadn’t spoken to anyone since losing Hope. I mean, the guys had tried to talk to me, but I couldn’t open up. I did that night. I told him everything. How I felt about losing her, how I felt like I didn’t only lose her that night, but I lost you too. How you seemed lost. That I couldn’t get through to you anymore and the only time you seemed at peace was when you immersed yourself in art.”

  Tears run down my face. Nothing he’s saying is new, I know exactly how I was during those days, but to hear it from his mouth, the way he sounds so broken, lost and in pain, it makes me hurt too. I want to apologize, but it’s pointless. I can’t take it back, I’m not sure I could even control it.

  “But, what I didn’t know, Tatum, was that Ryder and I weren’t alone in that locker room that night.”

  “One of the other guys was in there too?”

  “No, I wish it had been one of them. If it had they would have done nothing but offer support.”

  “Then, I don’t understand.”

  “Jerry. Jerry was there and he heard everything. And he started to formulate a plan.”

  “A plan? What do you mean?”

  “I received a call from him a couple days later asking me to meet him. I told him no at first. Jax and him were already starting to have trouble and I was nervous about getting in the middle of anything, but he told me it wasn’t about Jax at all, that it was about you. I asked him what the hell he was talking about, but he refused to get into anything over the phone. So I went. I’ve replayed that moment in my mind over and over through the years. I wonder what would have happened if I had just stayed home - if I had just told him to mind his own business. If I had used my fucking brain and known that nothing good could come from a meeting with Jerry.”

  “What did he do, Cole?”

  He laughs bitterly, “He told me that he overheard my conversation with Ryder, and that he was sorry to hear that you weren’t doing well. He told me he could help. That he knew exactly what would make you find yourself again. And so, he offered me a deal. But in exchange… in exchange…”

  Dread makes my stomach sour, “In exchange for what? What kind of deal?”

  “Tatum, you have to know that I was desperate. I would have done anything to help you. Anything. And he knew that, and he preyed on it, and honestly, I felt like I had no other options.” He walks to me and his thumb brushes my cheek, “I was losing you. I could feel you slipping through my fingers and I was worried you might commit-” he breaks off not able to say it, but I know the rest of that sentence. “Every single day, I felt you drift farther away. I couldn’t lose you too. I didn’t want to live in a world without you in it. It’s why I arranged to have our neighbor, Mrs. Heath check in on you. I was afraid that I would come home one day and you…that you…”

  I nod my head, because I know what he was afraid of and hell if it doesn’t hurt. It hurts so much that I put him through that. I want to comfort him. I want to rub away the red that lingers on his cheek from my strike. I want to hold him and remind him that I’m here, that we got through it, that we’ll be okay. But I ca
n’t. Because if the bad feeling in my heart and soul is any indication, I’m not sure that we will be.

  “Jerry had a connection, a friend at the Institute of Art.” And at that statement, it already feels like the walls are closing in. “Jerry called in a favor and asked his friend Trevor to look at your art – I still don’t know how he obtained pieces for him to see. They were impressed and with Jerry’s urging, they were willing to offer you a scholarship.”

  Because of Jerry. I got a scholarship at the Institute of Art because of Jerry. Oh god.

  “But the scholarship they were offering would have only covered part of the cost. Jerry told me that he would front the rest of the money to make the scholarship a full ride. You would have your schooling, books, meals, room and board, anything that you needed – paid for. You see Jerry received a large inheritance when his dad died. It’s part of the reason no one understands his anger over not getting the gym that was left to Jax because he has more than enough money to buy his own. Anyway, he told me that it could be a done deal, but of course, it wasn’t coming out of the goodness of his heart.”

  I’m frozen. I’m not sure if I’m even completely comprehending what he’s saying to me right now. I feel nauseous and I sit down in case I need to put my head between my knees.

  “He sat down a contract in front of me. It listed all the things he told me would be provided for you at art school, but in exchange… in exchange I basically signed my life over to Jerry.”

  I’m afraid I’m going to throw up, but I manage to ask, “What does that mean?”

  “It means that for five years I’ve been living my life exclusively for Jerry. At least it feels that way, because I’ve only been fighting at his direction. When he gave me the contract he said if I agreed to the arrangement, I would have no say in who I fought, when I fought, where I fought, where I trained - nothing. My opinion no longer mattered - all decisions completely managed by Jerry – down to my training times and diet. When I would win a fight, half of my winnings were for me to live on and the other half would go to Jerry until I paid him back for every dollar he fronted for your scholarship. The contract will not be void until I’ve paid him back in full. For five years, I’ve been working to pay him back.”