Losing a Piece of Me

by K. B. Andrews

  “Look - what happened, that was a long time ago. Can we just let it go? Move on and be friends?”

  A sudden look of surprise appears on his face. “Friends?”

  We’re at the end of the property, where the large yard meets the trees. We step through the tree line and I sit down on fallen tree trunk. “I know. That sounds stupid.”

  He stands directly in front of me, watching me carefully, then shakes his head and runs his hand through his hair. “Friends? That’s what you want from me?”

  I’m afraid to meet his eyes, not wanting to see all the hurt I caused him. I nod, silently.

  He lets out a long breath and moves to my side. “I can’t. I need to hear it. I want to know why you left, why you didn’t tell me goodbye, and why you wouldn’t answer when I called. I thought I meant more to you than that.” He almost sounds disappointed that he gave me the chance to hurt him. I’m sure he is.

  “I can’t. I can’t go into all of that. It was six years ago. I’ve let it go and you should too.” I refuse to let myself go there. I can’t. It’s too hard.

  “Let it go? Let it go?” he yells.

  I don’t even flinch when he raises his voice. I know I deserve much more than just being yelled at after how badly I hurt him. It killed me to do so, but I did it. I didn’t have a choice.

  “I fucking loved you and you just up and left. And I didn’t even know! You didn’t tell me goodbye or anything. One day you were here and you were happy and saying you loved me and the next, you were gone. How do you expect me to feel, Lex?”

  My eyes bounce around the wooded area. I look at the big trees, the green grass. I smell the dirt all around us. I feel the warm sunshine that is breaking through the gaps in the trees. I try and focus on anything other than the man sitting next to me. I can’t let him in, not again. It almost killed me last time.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. I stand and start to walk away, but the next moment, I’m in his arms with my back pressed against a tree. We’re nose to nose and his eyes burn into me. I feel his breath blow across my face and can feel his heart pounding against me. His scent is rich and intoxicating, and, for just a moment, I let my walls down. Looking into his eyes, I let my face expose all of the love and regret held inside of me.

  “I won’t let you walk away for me. Not again.” His mouth crashes into mine and his tongue sweeps out to taste me.

  His hands tangle in my hair while his lips tease my own. I give in. I don’t mean to, but I’m not strong enough. I never could resist him. That’s why I couldn’t tell him I was leaving - I knew he could stop me, but I couldn’t let myself be stopped.

  His hand travels from my hair, down my side, and to my thigh where he holds firm. He hooks my leg over his hip and presses himself against me.

  God, this feels so good. His weight, his smell, his touch, it all feels so good. I’ve been starving for him and only him, but it can’t happen. Allowing this will only hurt us both. We can’t be together, and even if he doesn’t know the reason why, I do. I can’t bring that upon my family.

  I want to push him away. I have to stop this. Why am I so weak? Why can he control me the way he does?

  My heart is pounding in my chest and our breathing is heavy. Our hands impatiently explore each other’s bodies. I run my hand under his shirt and his muscles tense beneath my touch. I can feel every ripple of every muscle. All I want is him, it’s all I’ve ever wanted. But giving in will only set into motion a series of events that I need to remain unknown to all but me.

  “Stay away from my son or I’ll make sure they all know. Wouldn’t that be the talk of the town?”

  With that memory, I push him away. “I can’t. Please stop.” I’m on the verge of tears as I run past him, not stopping until I am back upstairs in my room and can crash on the bed. Tears wrack my body and for just a minute, I allow myself to relive every painful moment of that day.

  I can feel his breath blowing against my face as he stands not even a foot from me, yelling at me. I can smell the alcohol on his breath, so strong it burns my nose. I feel my heart breaking at the thought of my family being destroyed by his threats. I feel it completely crumble at the thought of having to leave Striker behind.

  I wake to a knock on my door.

  “Why am I not surprised? You need to get ready. We’re going to be leaving for the country club soon.” My mother leaves as quickly as she appeared.

  I make my way toward the bathroom and quickly shower.

  An hour later, I am dressed and have my hair and makeup done to perfection. The thick layer of cosmetics makes my face feel like a plastic Barbie, and I hate it. Between my unhappy homecoming and painfully confusing reunion with Striker, my mind is a wreck; it takes everything for me to hold myself together.

  I knew this trip home was going to be challenging, but never would have guessed that it would be this brutally difficult. Stuffing the emotions down inside of me so that only the fake exterior will be visible for my family, I drive to the country club. The parking lot is littered with pretentious luxury cars and obnoxiously large SUVs, and I end up choosing a spot at the back, far away from where I might accidentally scratch someone’s midlife crisis with my car door. I take a deep, cleansing breath and open my door.

  Walking inside, I’m greeted by a waiter carrying a tray of champagne. I empty one of the glasses, the bubbly mixture going down smooth and minutely helping to calm my nerves. Preferring to stay out of sight, I hang out near the back of the crowd, watching several older couples dancing to the classical music. My sister is practically glowing while holding onto her soon-to-be husband.

  Her golden hair is pinned up and soft curls are flowing down, and her face is perfectly accented by her makeup. She looks just like my mother. But why wouldn’t she? She is the golden child after all.

  Her fiancée looks just like any other rich prick: sandy-brown hair, a chiseled face, and a suit that probably cost more than my car. He’s tall and lean, but looks to be in good shape. It occurs to me that I don’t even know his name. Just as well, I guess.

  I turn my cynical gaze away from the happy couple and find my mother and father making their rounds, greeting the guests. A smile which could never be mistaken as genuine is plastered on her face while she leads my father around, who is clearly bored and daydreaming of being anywhere but here.

  A few family members are nearby, but it’s no use bothering to talk to them; they have disowned me just the same as my mother.

  So here I stand, alone in the back of the room, feeling completely alone and vulnerable.

  I straighten my back and stand a little taller. The mask I usually wear around these people goes back into place. Conversation will inevitably turn to my profession, which will invite all sorts of snobbery from anyone listening in, and the best I can do is to not let them see how much their words hurt me. That’s what they want: to see me crumble and come running back to my parents, where I can finally live the life I was meant to.

  It won’t happen.

  Within the hour, I have relieved the waiter of four more champagne glasses and received many more dirty looks from guests. I flash them my best smile and wave like their looks don’t bother me, but on the inside I’m dying.

  Finally, after a sufficient time spent feeling like a social outcast, my mother sits beside me. She brushes a strand of golden hair out of her face and adjusts her pink jacket over her matching skirt. “Honestly Alexis, do you think you could look any more bored?”

  I roll my eyes and finish another glass.

  “Have you met James yet?” she asks, a little breathless.

  “No, I haven’t. There hasn’t been anyone to introduce us.” I use my overly polite voice and smile, knowing she will take this as a jab.

  It works. She scoffs and cuts the conversation short and stands to walk away, but turns back to me after a few steps, determined to get the last word. “This is your sister’s big night. Go be friendly and stop sulking, because, for once, you’re not the center of
attention.” With that, she walks away.

  I sit dumbfounded for a few minutes. Really? I always have to be the center of attention? I haven’t been the center of attention for six years! Or maybe she forgot that?

  This merits several quiet minutes of seething to myself, after which I stand and head toward my sister. She’s standing with a big group of people, smiling and chatting excitedly as if she’s the luckiest person on earth.

  I roll my eyes but don’t let her see. I’m happy that she’s happy. If this is the life she wants, more power to her.

  I lean in and whisper, “I think I’m going to head out.”

  She spins and pulls me in for a hug. “I’m sorry, I’ve been trying to make my way to you all night. I just keep getting sidetracked.” Honesty is evident in her eyes.

  Fake smile back in place, I reply, “It’s fine, you have a lot of guests here. You should talk to them.”

  She grabs my hand and leads me a few feet off to the side. “These aren’t my guests and you know it.” Finally, her fake smile fades. “These are her guests.” She motions toward our mother smiling and laughing over a glass of champagne.

  I shrug. “You look beautiful. James is very lucky.”

  “James? Who’s James?” Her eyebrows skyrocket.

  “I thought that was your fiancée’s name.”

  She laughs. “No, his name is Richard.”

  Suddenly, I realize that James was meant for me. My shoulders slump. “I really should be going before I meet James.”

  Steph laughs and pulls me back to the group of people. “You need to meet Richard before you go.” She turns to him. “Honey, this is my sister Alex.”

  His dark eyes land on mine. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard many wonderful things about you.” He takes my hand.

  “Not from my mother I’m sure.”

  He gently laughs. “Well, no. But your sister talks highly of you.”

  I smile out of politeness. “It’s nice to meet you and I hope the two of you enjoy the rest of your party.”

  “You will be at the family brunch in the morning, right?” Steph asks me.

  I want to stomp my foot. “I don’t know, Steph.”

  A sudden look of panic covers her face. “You have to come. Please, Alex.”

  “Fine, I will be there.”

  She giggles before moving in and giving me a hug.

  I finally break free and don’t waste any time heading for the exit.

  Chapter 6

  With Lex’s lips on mine, it feels like no time has passed, like things are exactly as they were six years ago. The only thing that’s changed is how much more I’ve grown to love her. She fights me, but just as I hike her leg over my hip, I feel her give in to me, the same way she always used to.

  Her hands roam my body and my stomach muscles tense beneath her touch. Her hot skin almost burns me. She tastes so fucking sweet. I get a handful of her ass, and the moment my fingers squeeze, a part of me comes alive. My blood pumps faster and feels like it’s boiling beneath my skin.

  I know she’s about to take off. I can feel it in my bones. We’re too close for comfort and she’s enjoying herself. That’s going to freak her out and make her run. She’s always been a runner.

  Just as I expected, she pushes me away and takes off back toward the house. I don’t try and stop her. This is Lex. This is just what she does.

  With this one brief moment alone together, I got her to lower her guard just a bit, and I know it will happen again. It always does. It comes down in steps.

  I lean against the tree which she was so recently pressed against and take a moment to catch my breath. I run my hands over my face and head, trying to calm the ache in my pants.

  When every part of me has calmed down, I push off from the tree and make the journey back to the path where I stashed my bike.

  Her mother watches me from the window, arms crossed and eyes shooting daggers, as I pass her house. If it were possible to harm someone with just a look, her contentious expression would have me dead in the street. I don’t smile. I don’t wave. I just lock my eyes on hers. I want her to know that I know she’s watching. I want her worrying. Lex has only been home one day, yet she’s already with me. The guy that wasn’t good enough for her daughter. The guy she tried to pay off to stay away. It didn’t work then and it won’t work now.

  She knows that and she’s scared.

  Even though Lex has been gone and living her life for the past six years, her mother still thinks she can control her.

  Nobody can control Lex. The sooner she realizes that, the better.

  When I get home, I start cleaning the carburetor on my Impala. I’ve been restoring it for years, for no reason other than to keep my hands busy while my mind wanders. It’s always been relaxing for me, and helps to sort out my head.

  When my parents were fighting, I’d head to the garage and work on something. When my mom left and my dad turned to drinking, when he would get wasted and beat the shit out of me, I went to the garage.

  With pieces of metal in my hands, my eyes fall to the beat-up couch sitting beside my work bench. It was the one thing I took when I left my dad. Out of all my CDs, clothes, sports memorabilia, and guitars, I chose the ratty old couch that had been in our garage for years. Lex and I, we had some good times on that couch. I couldn’t let it go.

  Just staring at the worn down thing still makes my heart slam against my chest.

  I wipe the blood from my lip and slam the front door behind me. He’s still carrying on in the empty house, yelling and throwing things. He blames me for her leaving.

  As I head towards the garage, I look up and see her standing there in the gravel, arms crossed over her chest, pulling my old flannel shirt tight around her. Her eyes are flooded with tears and the tip of her nose is red from the cold.

  “What are you doing here?” I bring her into my arms, trying to comfort her. I know her mother must have pulled her usual shit again.

  She looks up at me with bloodshot eyes that are distinguishable even in the dark. “Why do you stay here? How can you put up with that?” Her eyes flash toward the house, and I realize she witnessed everything.

  I press a kiss to her forehead. “Come on.” I lead her toward the garage and we sit on the couch. She straddles me and wraps her arms around my neck, resting her forehead against mine.

  “Tell me why. Why do you live like this? Why don’t you leave?”

  “I can’t leave,” I sigh out in exasperation.

  She places her hands on either side of my face and narrows her eyes, studying me. “Tell me. No secrets with us, remember?”

  I let out a long breath. “I can’t leave because…I can’t leave you.”

  No sooner have the words left my lips than she withdraws into herself, a vacant look glazing over her eyes. This time, it’s my hands on her face, directing her eyes to look at me. “If I leave, where will I go? I don’t have family anywhere near here. I won’t leave you.”

  “You can’t stay here, Striker. I can’t live knowing that you are here getting the shit beat out of you for me. I can’t do it.” Her head shakes back and forth.

  I pull her lips to mine to calm her. “I won’t leave you. I’ll put up with anything I have to, just to keep you. I love you, Lex.”

  The walls surrounding her emotions give way and crumble. Her lips press to mine as she works my shirt up over my head. When it is off completely off, I roll us over and cover her body with mine.

  I shake off the feelings of that night. Lex knew things were hard for me at home, but she didn’t know just how hard until that night.

  I need to get back inside her heart. Part of me has been there all along, but she’s built a brick wall around it. She knows she loves me, but it’s locked away somewhere so deep that she can’t feel it. I have to make her feel it. I have to break down those walls.

  I open my hand and let the piece of metal clatter to the floor as I head for the house to clean up. It’s hot and stuff
y in the garage and I’m covered in sweat and grease.

  I know what I have to do. I have to save her. I have to save her from herself, because if she keeps shutting everyone out like this, she will end up alone. I can’t let that happen - she’s too good to be alone. She deserves more than I can offer, but she definitely deserves more than she has now.

  While quickly showering, I draw up a mental list of places to check for the dinner. This town doesn’t harbor many places fancy enough for her family’s tastes.

  Throwing on some clothes, I hop on my bike to start searching. First stop: the country club. All the big shots go there.

  I navigate through the country club parking lot’s selection of fancy cars until I come across Lex’s Prius in the back, away from all the other vehicles, and park my bike next to it.

  I kill the engine and slowly make my way inside, where I hang out in the back, out of sight while I assess the situation. This idea could be a disaster if her parents notice me. Not to mention, my grease-stained jeans and t-shirt don’t necessarily fit in with the elegantly-dressed attendees.

  My eyes scan every face in the room until, finally, I see her. She is standing casually at the bar, clearly uninterested in the event, while some not-so-secret admirer drools all over her.

  First, I check him out. No doubt, he’s just another rich bastard that her mother dumped on her, dressed classily in an expensive black suit with thick, dark hair parted on the side and slicked back. His eyes scan down her whole body and he licks his lips.

  Meanwhile, Lex seems to be even less interested in him than she is in the party. Her eyes are glossed over with boredom, and they roll dramatically whenever his mouth opens to talk. While he tries his hardest to hit on her, she aimlessly stirs her drink, never breaking eye contact with the exit sign on the opposite wall.

  I stand a little taller, chest slightly puffed out, and casually walk to her side. Her eyes widen, not knowing what I’m about to do.