What do you do when everybody wants you to be “fine”?
He’d decided he didn’t want to be the kind of man that lived for everyone else anymore; he wanted to be himself. He’d become an expert at hiding anything which would give away what he might be truly thinking or feeling. No one ever noticed what he was really going through because he always reacted appropriately, but it was purely out of habit. What he lacked was personality, and he didn’t know if it would be too much trouble to have one. It was the first time in his life he admitted to himself that no one had ever loved him for him. He just wanted to be left alone for awhile so he could learn exactly who he truly was.
Fast forward to now. There was no one left to impress except for Declan and Aria, and they didn’t really pay attention to him since they had each other. One day, right before he’d decided to go home, he realized he no longer had goals and aspirations, and didn’t need to be the knight in shining armor for anyone. No one was there to impress. He could put away his academy award for dutiful son, perfect husband, and the over-protective big brother.
Now he could just… be.
Angrily he pitched the next rock harder into the air. Diversion was now his best friend, and a huge one was his brother’s accident. It was terrible to think it was a blessing in disguise, but for him it was. Aria’s mother was the one who called him to give him the news. He’d never spoken to Jeannie Cole before. He could hear the words choking her as she relayed the details. He felt so bad for her that it made him feel human again. She did her best to stay composed, but she lost the battle a few times as they talked. As inappropriate as it was, he found himself smiling at the tone of her voice. It made him remember how his mother always used her “soft” voice when she wanted to deliver bad news. As morbid as it was he was happy she triggered off the memory.
When he got there, it really was that blessing. Looking back he realized it was a lifeline for him because he was drowning in self-pity. He went to the beach because he had to. He was needed. Declan needed him, and so did Jeannie, she’d been so overwhelmed by it all. What mother wouldn’t be? She was at the hospital alone, surrounded by devastation. Her daughter was in shock. His brother in bad shape and possibly needing surgery, and trying to answer questions for the police. There were decisions which had to be made that she wasn’t prepared for, especially concerning Declan. Neither Jeannie nor Aria were legally allowed to do so. She tried hard to keep it together, and he felt so bad for her. He surprised himself. Once he heard the details he threw some clothes in a bag, and called Declan’s surgeon. He was on his cell as he put Codygirl in the car, then headed straight for the beach. Declan was to be taken into surgery without him being there, but he was determined to make it there before he came out so he wouldn’t wake up alone. The surgeon gave a bleak prognosis on his brother’s leg, so he drove like a bat out of hell. He could figure out the details when he got there. His main focus became Declan, and he actually forgot about himself.
The following days, weeks, and months were no picnic, but they helped him to remember the man he was. Declan proved to be a royal pain in the ass almost every day, but it was justified in light of the circumstances. Carter could handle him!
Lacey would be proud!
As for dealing with his depression, it was hard at first. He didn’t want anyone to know so he put on a cheerful personality like you’d put on an itchy sweater. Lifting Declan’s spirits was the goal. He was conscious of every move he made. Every day he did what he could to remind Declan of the things he had to live for. He tried to keep his brother’s focus on the many reasons to work hard at his rehabilitation. It was also selfish because in keeping Declan focused it kept his mind off of his own troubles.
He knew he had a life waiting for him back up at the lake house, and eventually he’d have to return, but he wasn’t looking forward to the memories ripping at him like a jagged razor. At least at the beach he could escape for awhile, and focus on Declan and Aria. That way no one would notice how empty he truly was. Surprisingly, he found he liked the beach. Moving into Declan’s home was a necessity. Aria had gone to stay at her mother’s while they sorted things out between them, and he tried not to get too involved. He focused on kicking Declan’s ass when he felt sorry for himself; in other words, he was a hypocrite. One of the hardest things he had to do was sit by as Declan treated Aria so carelessly, because he knew his brother. What he was doing was calculated. He knew exactly what effect it would have on her. Declan didn’t have a vicious bone in his body and had always been charismatic. It was so unlike him to be cruel, but Carter recognized he was distancing himself, thinking he was protecting them both. In his pain it was easy for him to break her heart with his words and spiteful attitude. He took the guilt she felt for the circumstances surrounding the accident and used it against her. Aria was a sweetheart and didn’t have it in her to hurt anyone. The emotional weight of Declan’s accident laid heavily on her small shoulders. Those were the times Carter wished Lacey were there with him. She would know what to do, what to say, and how to make things better.
She always did.
As it turned out, time did heal the wounds of both Declan and Aria. It took months and months, but fate intervened. They were meant to be together. Their difficulties proved to strengthen them individually, and as a couple. He was happy for them. He loved them both and he didn’t love easily, being very selective of those who received it.
He had avoided the pain of his own life while he concentrated on them, but life has a way of making you face yourself. Once their happiness returned, so did his despondency. It sucked him back under the surface of living. Once again, he simply existed. His empty life returned with numbing clarity as he had to face living without Lacey.
His old life was comfortable. This one had little purpose. He began to realize how he always wanted someone’s approval, and it bothered him. Wasn’t he his own man? He wasn’t sure of the answer. Now he had to ask himself; was there really a reason to be better? To tell the truth, he was a little sick of it. What about just being the person he was? Wasn’t it good enough for anybody? When he thought of it, it pissed him off. In the end, he looked forward to going home. He’d already done something good with Lacey’s death; he started a scholarship program. Everyone helped him; his brother, Aria and all the friends he’d made at the beach. It made him feel productive, but in the days after the benefit he found himself slipping back into the same mind frame. He didn’t want to put on an act anymore. He just wanted to go home and be himself—but one thing would never change. He would never, ever give up his quest for justice. He knew there was one person most responsible for Lacey’s death.
Marisol Franzi.
He believed she was a manipulative bitch, and everywhere she went, she left pain in her wake. Fortunately, Aria survived her. Lacey hadn’t been so lucky. Neither had Marisol’s sister.
After Marisol attacked Aria, she was arrested for assault and attempted murder. How the hell the judicial system thought she needed to be in Clifton T. Perkins Hospital he would never understand. Carter had to live with the death of her sister on his conscience. It was mistaken identity, and a language barrier. He wanted to hang around for awhile to see how things worked out with Marisol, so he went to live with Blake Matthews when Declan brought Aria home from the hospital. He wanted to give them some privacy. Blake found the condo through Aria’s friend, Paige. She was a great realtor and had taken him to see many properties until she found the perfect bayside condo for him. It had three bedrooms. Blake used one as a nice office, and kept the other as a guest room. They’d become really good friends while he stayed with Declan. Carter didn’t even have to ask him if he wanted a roommate. Blake offered it to him once they heard of his brother’s plan to keep Aria close while she recovered. It made sense. He wanted to stick around for awhile, to make sure they were okay. There were also loose ends to tie up with the police department regarding the charges against Marisol. The case was proving to be complicated. Much had to be sorted
out with regard to Marisol and her dead sister. How they were both involved in Lacey’s death was still a complex issue, and there were no solid answers, but he knew Marchelle’s death was the wrong outcome. There were too many unanswered questions— too many details left out. It was the hardest part of going home—still not having the answers—and the policeman in him wanted justice and resolution. When he thought about it, he could feel the veins his neck bulge in anger. All of that was now done and over and he was here. The beach was behind him. Declan and Aria were good. Lacey was still dead. It was time to move on.
It was surreal. Walking into the house felt oppressive. He’d escaped some of it while he was away, but taking those first few steps inside, he didn’t move, allowing himself to be immersed in remnants of her. Memories of Lacey both consoled and assaulted him. He hadn’t changed a thing in the house. She was still everywhere. He could see the unfinished scrapbook pieces sitting on her desk, and even smell the fragrance of her perfume, albeit barely there. He didn’t stay lost in thought for very long as Cody trudged her heavy paws through each of the rooms, making her inspection. Did he imagine it, or was her pace slower when she returned to him? Could dogs get depressed? Maybe she was just now realizing her mistress would never return. They’d always teased that, unlike any dog they’d ever known, they could see Cody’s smile. Today, she wasn’t smiling.
There was one room he didn’t want to go into, he had to go into. No longer postponing the inevitable, Carter entered their bedroom. Nausea sucker-punched him. Everything rushed back, beating up the parts of him no one could see, just like a bully. It was tortuous. Feelings of loss and emptiness shrouded him, and he backed out of the room, defeated.
Making his way through the kitchen, he went out the back door and grabbed the rocks. He headed to the edge of the pier to throw some of the mental garbage away. Each painful thought pulled him through the muck and mire, and he wanted to deal with them in his own way—a rock for each thought, then tossing it out into the lake. He’d been at it for awhile when he felt the bouncing weight of Cody on the boards of the pier. He didn’t even have to turn around. Hers was a specific sound and feel. Her weight reverberated in the wood. She trotted to him, nudging his shoulder.
“Hi girl.”
At the sound of his voice, a cold nose and warm fur snuggled against his neck. He reached into her thick coat, petting her, and she returned the affection by nuzzling his cheek. He turned his face into her soft fur.
“Did you get lonely up there all by yourself?”
She continued nudging him, all one hundred twenty pounds of beautiful Bernese mountain dog, and he remembered the day he took Lacey to see the puppies. She’d fallen in love with Cody the moment she laid eyes on her. There was no discussion. Lacey was getting her no matter what he said. He wasn’t sure he wanted a dog, a friend told him about another friend who had a litter of puppies. She was adamant the puppies go to only people who would take the responsibility of a dog seriously. That same friend also knew Lacey wanted a puppy. It was then that Lacey and Lisa Duvall became friends. When they went to Lisa’s house his opinion changed because he loved Cody. He was low man on the totem pole though. Lacey and Cody became inseparable. Everyone knew it. Cody was her baby and was by her side until she died. To tell the truth, he was really worried when Lacey passed. The dog didn’t eat for a week, mourning the loss. Lisa told him it was normal. She said dogs could grieve. Every night Cody came to lie by his side. Sometimes she would whimper, almost sounding like she cried, but she stayed beside Carter, and the two mourned together.
As she pranced up and down the pier, you would never know how sad she’d been. She was trying to tell him it was dinner time. He’d been oblivious to the change outside. The air grew cooler, as the sun began to set. He pushed back with his boot as he stood, and excitedly, Cody started running around in circles.
Without realizing it, he’d been tossing his cares in the lake for a couple of hours.
“What do you need, girl? Hungry? You trying to tell me it’s time to eat?”
She responded by jumping up and down upon hearing the word “eat.” Seeing her so animated was the first positive thing that happened today.
“C’mon girl. Let’s feed you.”
He didn’t want to go back inside, but he couldn’t avoid the inevitable. He was adapting, day by day, step by step—even if the days dragged and he took baby steps. He really felt like shit without her, but he figured most people wouldn’t want to hear it, and he was done with sugar coating everything. He wasn’t going to worry about what people thought of him. What was the saying?
“Life’s a bitch, and then you die.”
He didn’t agree.
The words should be,
“When you die, life’s a bitch for the people left behind.”
For him, it was time to move on—time to let his guard down a little. Time to meet the expectations of… absolutely no one. It was time to face the facts.
He was an imposter in his own life.
As Manuel Vallega neared his destination, his heavy boots scuffed the metal caps on the stairs. He had one thing on his mind.
Her.
He already decided he didn’t like the staff at The Clifton T. Perkins Hospital. They were pompous and arrogant. The few he’d already encountered appeared to be on ego trips.
He did not like it.
His friends would call him Manny—if he had friends. He didn’t allow himself the luxury of permitting people to get too close or personal. He did, however, allow a few select people the honor of addressing him casually.
She was one.
He was a man used to getting what he wanted. Giving orders, not taking them, or having anyone dictate to him. The people at this facility sprinkled his temperament with a dust of agitation. He found himself entertaining thoughts of snapping their necks, and the pleasure it would give him. He could almost feel it in his hands. It intensified when they looked at him dismissively. Knowing how to play their game, he managed his disdain well and skillfully reigned in his anger until it only appeared to be a bad attitude. Attitude was something the staff dealt with in abundance.
As the guard led him into a grey room, he seated himself at a lackluster table, leaning over it in anticipation. Manny was confident both his appearance, and aura, were intimidating. Just one of his arms was the diameter of the guard’s head. He was already of the opinion the man was inadequate to watch over the room.
Although he’d had his own share of jail time, none of the personnel present appeared to recognize him. However, he was keenly aware that if he wasn’t careful, he could unknowingly reveal his identity.
It was a revelation which wouldn’t benefit anyone; especially Mari.
She’d been incarcerated for eight months. Eight months! No one notified him of the event, and two of his men paid for the mistake with their lives. It was their job to keep her under surveillance.
This incident they failed to mention.
She’d made the front page of the US news. Dammit! Why wouldn’t she?! She was exceptional, a high caliber woman—a “supermodel”. He’d expected her to be front page news for her antics, such as catfights, men, or drugs - but he hadn’t expected this. Most of her escapades he tolerated, but not this one. This was to be dealt with personally.
Attempted murder! She was careless. He didn’t have time for this shit!
The operation in Columbia required his daily attention. It was his job. He paid for, and expected, qualified people to keep Mari in sight, and report their findings to him. He couldn’t have cared less for her bitchy reputation, or her partying ways. Fortunate or unfortunate, his responsibility was to look after her—and he ALWAYS took his responsibilities seriously.
Although he believed himself listed as her contact person on all of her pertinent information, apparently, he was wrong. Not one person thought to inform him of her circumstance—unless she purposely didn’t tell them.
If it were true, it was just one of many reasons fo
r his justified anger. If he was unaware, it was impossible to assist her, but guilty or not he was certain a woman like Mari didn’t belong in a place like this!
They hadn’t spoken in almost a year, but it did nothing to lessen the commitment he felt to her. He loved her—if he were capable of love. He wasn’t sure if it was even possible, but he felt a small glimmer of something for her. It stemmed from his adoration of Carlos, Mari’s father.
Her father had been good to him. Hard as nails, but good. He’d taken him off the streets and groomed him for the business. He didn’t just make him learn it, he gave him the privilege of learning it.
As a kid, Manny was barely making it, starving on the streets of Miami. He hustled anything of value, including himself. If not for Mari’s father he would have become a statistic. Instead, he was now the head of the organization. He had money, power, and women at his disposal. He reigned over one of the most advantageous, illegal operations in Columbia. He was feared and respected—which, in his opinion, was much better than being loved. He owed everything to the benevolence and direction Carlos gave him. He’d been more a father than his own. He didn’t even know who his real father was, but he was certain he was a piece of shit, but then to most people, Carlos was a piece of shit, too.
Manny wasn’t most people.
One of the many tasks Carlos assigned to Manny was following his daughter, Mari. She was young, independent, and headstrong, much like her father. Her twin, Marchelle, was docile, and didn’t cause her father much concern. Mari was different. Carlos didn’t trust her. He said she was too hardheaded for her own good. He’d tried to break her, many times, but she was too resilient. Defiant. When Carlos gave Manny the responsibility of watching over her, he hadn’t formed an opinion of her one way or the other. He preferred to think like a soldier, disassociating personal feelings from his orders. They were meant to be followed, and he blindly followed his, much to the delight of his mentor. He only tolerated obedient soldiers. If anyone challenged Carlos, they didn’t live long enough to repent.
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