by Andria Large
She must have talked to Tucker, because he’s been suggesting the same thing to me for the past two weeks.
I sigh heavily and rub my eyes with my thumb and forefinger. “I just… I don’t feel like I’m going to ever feel any better. I’m just existing. I’m not living.”
“Are you still taking your medication?”
“Yeah,” I huff.
“Maybe you need a higher dosage or something different. You should talk to your doctor about it,” Lizette says carefully.
I hang my head. Why bother? I don’t even want to live anymore; it’s pointless. Everyone would be better off without having me to worry about. I can be with Zara again. I close my eyes. I can barely conjure up her beautiful face anymore. It’s been so long. The hollowness in my heart is achingly clear. I have nothing to live for. Not even the knowledge of hurting Lizette by leaving her can bring my thoughts back.
“Dennis, promise me that you’ll talk to your doctor?” Lizette says.
I lift my head and stare right into my sister’s green eyes. “I promise,” I lie. It won’t matter when I’m not here anymore.
After leaving the burger place, I stop by the liquor store on my way home. I’m not usually one to drink, but I need something to numb the pain. I grab a bottle of whiskey and head to the counter to pay. Once that’s done, I take my bottle home with the plan of drinking until I pass out. All I want to do is forget this god-awful day.
I get home and bring my bottle of whiskey over to the couch. I sit down and crack it open. Fuck a glass. I take a swig straight from the bottle and hiss as it burns my throat on the way down. Obviously I didn’t buy anything expensive. What’s the point? I just plan on getting fucked-up; doesn’t matter if I enjoy it or not. With every sip, it goes down easier and easier.
With half the bottle gone, I pull out my wallet, where I keep the one picture I have of Zara and me. It was taken by one of my buddies the day we got married. I stare at it, memorizing her face all over again. I touch her face. She was so beautiful with her long blonde hair and gray-blue eyes. We looked so happy. We were so happy.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” I croak. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. If I was a better man, I could have saved you, but I’m not.”
I’m done. I’m done with this bullshit existence. I want to be with my wife. I want to be in her arms again. And the only way that will happen is if I’m dead. I close my eyes against the room spinning in front of me. I am most definitely hammered, but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything right now. I just want to off myself.
After putting the bottle and picture down on the table, I stand but immediately pitch forward. I catch myself on the coffee table and wait for the room to stop tilting. Once I’m semistable, I slowly make my way down the hall to my room, dragging my shoulder against the wall for balance. I stumble over to my dresser, where my small gun safe sits on top of it. It takes me a couple of times before I can punch in the combo correctly, because I can barely see clearly, but I get it. I pull out my gun, which is already loaded.
I stagger down the hallway to the living room and park my ass on the couch. I set the gun on the table and pick up the half-empty bottle of whiskey, then pound the rest of it. I hiccup, then burp as I set the bottle back down next to the picture.
I stare at my gun. A shit-ton of emotions rush through me—regret, fear, acceptance, resignation. Can I really do this? I feel like I need to if I ever want to be happy again. I can’t live like this anymore. The constant darkness is overwhelming me, and I would give anything to be with my Zara again—my wife, my love. There will never be another woman who will come close to her.
The tears flow, and I can’t stop them. I pick up my gun with a shaky hand and place the cool barrel against my temple. My breath catches as a wave of nausea rolls my stomach. I close my eyes. This will all be over soon.
TUCKER
UGH, IT’S been a long friggin’ day. The whole computer system at work crashed. What a fucking nightmare. After thanking Vince—my buddy from work, who I carpool with—for dropping me off, I head up to the condo, ready to get into my sweats and have a beer. I step through the door, shut and lock it behind me, and loosen the knot of my tie. Tossing my keys and wallet on the table next to the door, I glance up. My heart immediately jumps into my throat when I take in the scene in front of me.
Dennis is sitting on the couch, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. In his right hand, his gun. He is resting his temple against the end of the barrel. An empty bottle of whiskey sits on the coffee table in front of him, along with a wallet-sized picture. My mind races for a way to quickly defuse this situation. Obviously Dennis has hit rock bottom and can’t see another way out.
“Dennis,” I breathe, holding my hands out in front of me in a calming motion.
Dennis’s red-rimmed, glassy eyes slowly lift to meet mine. He is clearly plastered. I’m not surprised, since he drank an entire bottle of whiskey by himself even though he usually doesn’t drink at all. But I can also see he’s dead inside. His eyes hold no emotion. In a moment of realization, I remember what today is. Shit.
“I’m done, Tuck,” I read when his lips move.
I shake my head. “Denny, no. Don’t do this.”
I start forward, but Dennis turns the gun on me. “Don’t fucking come near me!” he bellows, his eyes flashing. His gun hand shakes violently.
I freeze, my heart leaping into my throat once more. Fuck, the last time I had a gun pointed at me, I was in Iraq. And, damn, I never thought I’d have one pointed at me again, especially not by my best friend. My stomach bottoms out, and it takes some deep breaths to keep from hurling. Dennis knows if I can get near him, I can most likely disarm him. I hold up my hands, showing him I’m unarmed and not moving.
“Okay, okay, stay calm,” I soothe. Jesus Christ, I have to get that gun away from him.
Once he’s satisfied I’m not moving, the gun gets aimed back at his head. His finger is blessedly not on the trigger but resting on the outside of the trigger guard. Oh Dennis, what are you doing? His hair is a mess; it’s grown in a lot since he got back from his stint as a bodyguard. His face has a couple of days’ worth of stubble. I knew he was sliding back into depression, but I didn’t realize he was this bad. If I had known, I would have gotten him help sooner.
“Let’s talk about this, buddy,” I say as calmly as I can.
Fuck, I wish I could hear him right now. Dennis sways in his seat, his head is slightly down, and I can see his lips are moving. I can only assume he’s mumbling to himself. He then lifts his head and looks at me, his gaze hard and unrelenting.
“I don’t wanna talk. I wanna die and end this horrible excuse of a life that I have,” he replies.
I shake my head. I don’t believe that for one second. I know Dennis, and if he really wanted to kill himself, he would have done it as soon as he made the decision. This is a cry for help. “No, you don’t. Otherwise, I would have come home to find you already dead.”
Dennis’s jaw bulges as he clenches his teeth. “Maybe I just wanted to see you one more time,” he grits out.
“Seriously?” I croak, totally sick at the thought. “You think I want to stand by and watch you shoot yourself in the fucking head? Don’t you understand how badly that would fuck me up, man? Why would you do that to me?”
“I’m sorry,” Dennis says, his chin trembling.
“What about Lizette, Denny? She’ll be heartbroken,” I try, knowing how much he loves his sister.
Dennis bares his teeth in a snarl and grinds the tip of the gun into his temple. “Argh! She’ll be better off without me! She has Beau now!”
“No! She won’t be better off without you. She loves you. You’re her big brother,” I shout at him.
Tears slip from his eyes to slide down his flushed cheeks. “I don’t wanna do this anymore. I just want it to end. I wanna be with Zara. I wanna be with my wife.”
“What about me, you selfish bastard? I need you here! You’r
e the only one I can talk to, the only one I trust!” I snap, my emotions taking over. I don’t know if being angry is the right way to go—too late now.
I don’t know how long we stare at each other, but it feels like hours—hours of Dennis holding a fucking gun to his head. I’m pretty sure my heart stops a few times while I’m waiting… for him to either blow his brains out or release the gun. Finally he breaks. He lowers his head into his left hand, and his right hand goes limp. He still hangs on to the gun, but at least now it’s pointed at the floor. He is sobbing. Like, shoulder-shaking, gut-wrenching sobs.
I slowly make my way over to him, poised to strike in case he changes his mind. I slide my hand across his shoulders when I reach him. He doesn’t even acknowledge me touching him, so I sit down next to him. I gently pry the gun out of his hand. He lets me, thank fucking God. I disarm the weapon before setting it down on the table. I fight back the vomit when I find there was a bullet in the chamber. I then pull him to me. Dennis turns slightly and lets me hug his head to my chest.
“I gotcha, buddy. We’re gonna get you some help,” I whisper into his hair.
DENNIS
I LIE in the hospital bed, my back to the door. I’m pretending to be asleep so I don’t have to deal with anyone. They flushed me full of saline to help sober me up faster. My room is also video monitored because I’m on suicide watch. Fucking fantastic. Tuck has been here the whole time, but Lizette and Beau just showed up about five minutes ago. I can hear Lizette crying as Tucker recaps what happened at the condo. I still can’t believe I did that, but I was in such a dark place I didn’t see any other alternative. Drinking had definitely been a mistake, for sure.
“Why… why would he do this? I was with him earlier, and he seemed down but okay.” Lizette sniffs.
“He’s having a hard time right now and didn’t know how else to deal with it. He’s missing Zara like crazy,” Tucker tells her quietly.
I grit my teeth at the mention of Zara’s name. I would give anything to have her back in my arms.
“How long does he have to be here?” Beau asks.
“I don’t know.” Tucker sighs. “They said it could be a week or it could be a month. Just depends on him and how his mental health is.”
“I wish we could do something to help him,” Lizette says. I can hear the pain in her voice. Dammit, I never meant to hurt her, but I always do. I’m such an asshole.
“He has to help himself first,” Beau murmurs.
I can’t let her leave without assuring her I’ll be okay. I roll onto my back to find them all watching me. I smile weakly. Lizette is the first to rush over to me as she bursts out crying all over again. She practically drapes herself over me as she hugs me. I wrap my arms around her, tucking my face in her hair. Tears burn my eyes. Damn her.
“Dennis!” she sobs. Her whole body is trembling, and it breaks my fucking heart. What the hell was I thinking? If I take my own life, I hurt everyone else just to end my own suffering. It’s not fair. It’s not right, and I’ll never do that again.
“I’m sorry, Lizzie,” I whisper.
She lifts her head to look at me, face soaked in tears. “Don’t you dare apologize to me.” Her hand comes up to stroke my cheek. “Just please, please, don’t leave me. I love you and I need you in my life.”
Goddamn her! Tears well in my eyes and spill over. I can’t even look at her anymore. I’m so ashamed of what I did. I’m such a pussy.
“This will never happen again. I promise,” I say with the full intent of keeping that promise.
A nurse pops her head into the room. “Visiting hours are over,” she says with an apologetic smile.
Lizette extracts herself and grabs a tissue from the bedside table to dry her eyes and blow her nose. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” she states.
“You don’t have to—”
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” she says firmly, glaring at me.
I nod. “Okay,” I mutter weakly.
Beau steps over and gives me a hug. I can see from his expression that he’s hurt and upset, but he doesn’t say a word. He takes Lizette’s hand and leads her out of the room. I stare at their backs, wishing there was something more I could say other than I’m sorry.
Tucker comes and sits on the bed next to my hip, his body turned to face me. He stares at me for a second, his eyes taking in every inch of my face. “You scared the shit out of me,” he says softly.
I close my eyes. “I’m so sorry, Tuck. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
Tucker clasps the sides of my neck. His forehead drops to mine. “I know,” he whispers.
I reach up and grip the back of his neck to hold him to me. I open my eyes and am met with his piercing blue ones. My heart flutters madly. Ever since we kissed in my bed that one night, I’ve been thinking about kissing him again. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. It’s Tucker. I love him. He’s my best friend. Something happened between us when we kissed before. I don’t know what it was or where it will lead; all I know is that right now, I want to kiss him again, just to show him how much I care about him. Is that weird?
Tucker glances down at my mouth as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip. Damn, is he thinking the same thing as me? Before anything can happen, the nurse pops her head in again.
“Sir, visiting hours… oh… sorry… I didn’t realize…,” she stammers, blinking rapidly at us.
I jump at her voice, which alerts Tucker. He glances toward the door. We both snap back to reality and realize what we must look like. Tucker shoots to his feet and crosses his muscled arms over his well-defined chest.
“Oh no, we’re not together like that,” I say quickly. “We’re just best friends.”
The nurse narrows her eyes at us. “Okay, it looked like you two were… ya know…,” she replies, waving a hand dismissively. “I mean, it doesn’t matter either way.”
“We’re not together,” Tucker reaffirms.
She still looks skeptical. “Okay. Well, it’s time for you to go, Tucker. Don’t make me tell you again,” she scolds halfheartedly.
He nods. “I’m leaving now.”
He turns back to me, gives me a clap on the shoulder, then walks out. What the hell would have happened if the nurse hadn’t walked in? Would we have kissed? I scrub my face roughly with my hands. I wanted to kiss him… really badly. Am I actually attracted to him—like that? I guess so if I want to kiss him, right? Fuck, there are too many questions that I don’t have answers for right now.
TUCKER
I CAN barely concentrate today. After what happened with Dennis yesterday at home and in the hospital, my mind is all kinds of fucked-up. We almost kissed! At least, that’s where the moment had seemed to be going before we were interrupted. What freaks me out even more is that I wanted it. That kiss we shared before was explosive. How could I not want it to happen again? Kissing Dennis was a much different experience than kissing a woman. It was rough. It was sexy as hell. It gets my blood pumping just thinking about it.
My phone vibrating in my pants pocket brings me out of my thoughts. I lift my ass from my chair so I can fit my hand into the pocket of my black slacks. Looking at the screen, I see that my brother, Rhys, has texted me.
Hey bro, when are you coming to visit?
I sigh. I usually go at least once a month—if not more—to see him, Selene, and Max. But this month has been tough, and I haven’t been able to make it yet.
Sorry Rhys, some shit went down with Denny last night. I can’t leave him right now.
What happened?
I got home from work to find him sitting on the couch with a gun to his head. He’s at the VA now, no idea how long he is staying for.
Damn.
Yep.
Okay, can we at least do a FaceTime? Max has been asking for you.
I chuckle.
The kid is only one and doesn’t talk. How could he possibly be asking for me?
Lol, he’s been walking around with a framed picture of you, kiss
ing it.
Jesus, rip my heart out, why don’t ya!
I’m sorry!
No you’re not!
Lmao!
Maybe tonight.
Okay, let me know.
Okay, later man.
Peace.
My phone buzzes again right before I go to shove it back in my pocket. I glance at it, expecting Rhys again, but it’s not. Duke Tavish’s name pops up on my screen. Duke is one of my best friends and a fellow squad member. He was there with me the day we were ambushed. The day Chuck and the rest of my squad died. The day I lost my hearing. I haven’t heard from him in about a month. He’s working as a private investigator now and has been swamped with cases.
What’s up, fucker?
I roll my eyes. Duke is a ballbuster. A lot of people don’t like him because he can be a major dick, but somehow, we get along and have a close bond.
Nothing much, man. How are things?
Meh, could be better.
My eyebrows raise at that. He’s not one to complain, so for him to say something like that, he must be having a hard time.
What’s going on?
I’m gonna be in town for a while. Can I crash with you?
Duke lives in Baltimore, Maryland, with his wife, Aimee.
Shit yeah! You working a case?
You could say that.
I frown at the screen. What the fuck does that mean? I’m not going to worry about that now. I’ll push him about it when he gets here.