by Kelly Moore
“I don’t know, but it is. I feel the same way. I didn’t think I had any more room in my heart for love, but it expanded, and I feel complete with the two men in my life.”
“Can we have five more of these?” He strokes the baby’s arm.
“One more.”
“Oh, good, two more.” He laughs.
“I think now that you have those reading skills down pat, we need to work on your math,” I tease him.
“I think it’s time we bring in the grandparents.” On that note, they come bolting through the door.
“Let me see that baby,” Hank says with Caroline on his heels.
Will takes him from my arms and hands him to his mother. Her tears of happiness spill on Jett’s tiny head and Hank leans down and kisses his hand.
Just watching them with him brings on my own floodgates. The people I love and adore the most are all in one room, minus my brother. I want to cherish this moment forever.
“I could stare at him all night,” I say as I lay Jett in his crib. After he was born, Hank spent the next day painting the nursery navy blue and white. Will kept meaning to do it, but never found the time. Caroline ordered baby blankets and curtains and hung them before we came home with our son.
“You need to get some rest before he wakes up and wants to eat again,” Will says, snaking his arms around me from behind. “But, I agree, I could watch him sleep too.”
We both stand in quiet, admiring our new son for a moment. I yawn, and he takes my hand, leading me back to our bedroom. He pulls back the covers, and I slide under them as he gets in behind me and kisses the back of my head as he draws me into him.
“Sleep, baby.”
“I love you, Will.”
“I love you, too.”
Chapter 15
My eyes are wet, and my skin feels like it’s on fire. I wipe the matted hair from my face and lift my head. The room is dark, but a white haze is floating in the air. I blink a few times trying to focus, and I see Phillip wide-eyed and slumped over to the right in the beanbag. Beads of sweat roll down my face, and I feel locked in place.
“Lip?” I form the words, but no sound comes out. “Lip,” I try again. The smell of death rolls around in my nostrils. As if in slow motion, I raise my arm in the air and look at the track marks on my arm. Other than the scarring and redness from the needle, my skin is porcelain white. A numbness fills my chest where I should feel my heart beating. I need to get up…run…scream…something, but my body feels like petrified stone, unable to move, barely able to breathe on its own.
Squeezing my eyes tight, gathering all the strength left in me, my words grow legs. I kick hard from my belly and draw all the breathable air from my body. “Lip!” This time his name floats through the white haze of the room, but he doesn’t budge. Not a blink, nor a breath.
Panic swells up inside me, threatening to consume me whole. Finally, a harsh breath leaves my body along with a bloodcurdling scream that slices the white haze. I can feel my own blood drain from my face as I fall forward onto the dirty carpet.
I claw my way over to Lip as despair gnaws at my gut. I pull myself up to my knees in front of him and cover my mouth with my fingers, holding back my fear. Tears streak down my face as I realize he’s already gone. His face is leached of any color, and there is no rising of his chest from air leaving his body. My body starts to tremble as fear pricks at my scalp.
My heart finally finds its rhythm, rapping in my chest and ringing in my ears. As I reach for him, the walls seem to shift closer, making me nauseous. I wretch, but my empty stomach revolts. Fear continues to roll through me like ice water in my veins.
I get back on my knees and with a shaky hand, touch Lip’s cool face. My voice comes out low and cold like the air around me. “I’m sorry, Lip. I should have stopped you. I should have stopped us.”
I collapse down on the floor and drown in my own sorrow. The drug that I took still flows through me, giving me moments of darkness only to wake up again to my bleak reality. My brother is dead, and I did nothing to stop him.
As I fall into darkness again, I see flashes of a life in front of me. It feels so real it makes my heart ache. The deep ache turns to a soreness in my throat and lungs, making it almost impossible to breathe. Curled up in a ball on the floor, the only movement I can make is to press the heel of my hand into my chest, hoping to supress the pain. I want it to end. My life is over. I’ve lost the last link to my family, and I want to disappear with him.
Behind my warm, gummy eyelids, the flash of a face holds steady this time. He’s beautiful with his jet-black hair that curls up on the ends. His eyes seem to look right through me. He smiles, and there is a sexy dimple in his bottom lip that causes a hitch in my breath. It takes the ache away for a brief moment. I know his face and what his skin feels like pressed against mine. How is that possible? I’ve never known love like his. I feel his large hand reach inside me and make my heart beat slower, calming it, making it one with his. His warmth permeates over the drugs still flowing through me. I want to stay wrapped up in his image and forget about my reality.
His name is on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t recall it. I know that I know him, but maybe in some other lifetime because there is no way this man lives in my hell. Other familiar faces flash behind him. I want them to surround me, but I can’t reach them. Then the sweetest face I’ve ever seen dances around me. It’s a toddler about two years old. He has my hair color, but the face of the man that loves me. He’s happy and healthy and throwing his head back laughing. My heart swells with love for all of them.
Their faces fade, and I curl tighter into my body as the pain sears through me again. Not from the drugs this time, but from the loss of my vision of the people that I love. I shiver as the cold returns to my body, created by a deep sadness knowing that my life is over, and I will never find a real love like that. A sadness to the realization that my brother is gone. He’s lying a few feet from me, and I’m helpless to save him just like I was to change things for us.
What I wouldn’t give for us to have a do-over in life. For my parents to have made different choices with different consequences for us.
I close my eyes tight again to forget, then I squeeze them harder as I remember their names and I see that life. Will is waiting for me down the aisle, Jett is sleeping in my arms. Hank is holding hands with Caroline as they are walking hand in hand along the beach. I feel it—every emotion, every ounce of love they have for me and I for them.
A wail of pain leaves my body as I open my eyes and the white haze is gone. They are all gone, leaving me completely and utterly alone.
I stand here alone as I watch Lip being lowered into the ground in a cheap pine box. Not one person cared enough to show up at his graveside. I laid him to rest beside our mother in a run-down cemetery. Even in death, I couldn’t give him a better place to rest.
I pull my trench coat together as the rain starts to let down. I’d like to think that tears from heaven were pouring down on him, but the only tears spilled are mine. The thick, dark, billowy clouds crash together generating more rain. I’m frozen in place watching the now wet sand being thrown on his coffin.
I’m soaking wet even through my coat by the time they are done covering him. They pack up their things and leave me standing here alone. I’ve stood here so long that nighttime has fallen in the sky and the rain continues to fall.
“Take care of him, Mom.” I say the words knowing damn good and well, wherever they are, Lip will have to take care of her like we always did. My only hope is that he finds relief from his pain—the internal pain he suffered while he was here.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Harper, but I’ve let you say goodbye far longer than I had to,” the policeman who’s been watching me from his car, says from behind me.
As I walk away with him, I glance back one more time at Lip’s resting place before I get in the back of the cop car. I slide inside and rest my head back as the water drips down me. I remain silent for the
ride, thinking about what all has happened.
When I finally got off the floor of our apartment and called 911, the police came and rushed me to the hospital only to be arrested on drug charges when I was cleared by the doctors. At first, they tried to say that I had some part in my brother’s death, but the reports proved that I was drugged first and there was no way that I shot him up or forced him. That doesn’t mean I don’t feel responsible or blame myself every day for his death. The deal that was made by my assigned attorney is that I would remain in their custody until after Lip’s funeral, then I would be admitted into the custody of an in-house drug rehab center. I really don’t care if I live or die so I agreed to whatever terms they wanted.
The car stops in front of an old four-story brick building that is on the outskirts of the city. I would liken it to a prison with the ten-foot fence surrounding it. The cop rolls down his window, displaying his badge, and the guard lets us through the gate.
The car shifts into park, and he gets out and pulls my suitcase out of the trunk. I slowly accept my fate and open the car door. He waves me to the door and follows close behind me, pulling my luggage with the broken wheel behind him. I stand in front of the wooden double doors, staring at them, willing them to not let any of this be real.
He reaches past me and turns the black knob, opening one of the doors. The stale smell of the building floats in the air. The walls are all plain white with nothing decorating them. The curtains hanging from an unfinished wooden rod are even staunch white.
The cop raps his knuckles on a glass window dividing the room. A woman slides the door open and takes us into a small room where she rummages through my meager belongings. When the cop leaves, she orders me to strip down to nothing and change into a plain blue loose-fitting uniform.
I’m seventeen years old, and this is my life. Not the life as the wife of Will and mother to a little boy. A druggie that has lost everything and everyone, trying to put the pieces back together. I’m not sure that is even possible or that I want to. All I have to hang on to are the visions that keeping running through my mind. I long to do nothing but sleep because in my dreams, Will is real and I love my time with him. I’m sure I’ve gone insane and created him and my son, but it’s the only thing that keeps me going.
The lady hands me a blanket and a pillow and escorts me through the building until we are on the second floor. She unlocks a door to a small room that only has a dresser and a bed. I guess I should be grateful; I haven’t slept on a bed in years.
“This will be your room, and it will be locked at nighttime. Feel free to walk around and check out the rest of the building. You will receive a schedule of classes you are expected to participate in while you’re here.”
The woman’s name badge says, Stella. She’s short and stout, but she has a sweet face that has warmth behind her eyes.
“Thank you,” I say, not knowing what else I’m supposed to say to her.
“You’re going to be okay,” she says, looking back at me from the doorway. “You’ll be safe here.”
I don’t know why she felt the need to tell me that, but I needed to hear it. I nod as she shuts the door behind her. I lay my pillow and blanket on the bed and sit down on the mattress as I let out a big sigh. I guess it’s up to me as to how my life turns out now. I can stay in this place and continue to fade into nothing, or I can change the outcome. I only wish that Will was real, but he’s real enough to give me hope of something more.
Chapter 16
“Thank you for being here for me today,” I say as Stella shuts her car door.
“I’m so proud of you, Maggie. I wanted to show my support.” I wave as I watch her pull out into traffic.
I take off my graduation hat and climb the two flights of stairs into my apartment. It’s not much, but it’s been all mine for the last two years. There are pops of color throughout my one-bedroom apartment with brightly colored painted walls. I promised myself when I got out of rehab, I would never have white walls again.
At twenty-four, I finally have my act together. I think that’s reason enough to celebrate, besides the fact that I graduated at the top of my class in education.
After I left the rehab center, Stella helped me get a job in a local bookstore. I worked my way up to assistant manager and went to school, taking as many classes as I could handle working full time. It’s taken me six years, including finishing my high school diploma, but I’ve finally done it.
Who would have thought that lost and lonely seventeen-year-old frail girl would have the strength to accomplish anything. Stella took this broken bird under her wing and encouraged me to move on with my life. I love her and will miss her dearly, but she insists that it’s time for me to leave and find my own way. I’m terrified of the prospect but excited for the first time in my life.
I applied for a job down in a little town in North Carolina on the coast. It was the place I’ve dreamed about for years. I’ve never been there, and I had an online interview as an elementary school teacher in the small town of Southport.
Even though most of my dreams have faded, the thought of this town brings me happiness, and I can’t wait to start my life there. Through my years of counseling, I’ve come to the understanding that Will wasn’t real; he was just something I needed to help me through the darkness. Nothing more than a figment of my own drug-induced imagination.
My counselor had me write down all my feelings for him, and the time we spent together and place them in a box that we buried alongside my brother. She said if I didn’t let go of him, I’d never find love or the life I was meant to have. I may have buried the words in the ground, but I’ve entombed my feelings for him and our son deep inside my heart. I’m the only one that knows they are there. I don’t want to forget them, but maybe they’ll lead me to the person I’m supposed to be with. I remember what love feels like and not just the desolation of being alone. I want those feelings one day with someone. So, even though he may not be real, he was real to me, and he saved me. Will Taylor saved me, and I will always love him for that.
I pull off my gown and see the tattoos that are down my arms. I recalled them in my dreams, and I had them permanently placed on my arms. I want no reminders of my time before. I’ve been clean for six years now, and I intend on keeping it that way.
I walk around my apartment feeling a little melancholy, knowing this is my last day in my first apartment. I leave for Southport in the morning. I’ve never been on a train, and I’m looking forward to seeing parts of the country I’ve never seen before, even if it’s only watching it pass by me through a window.
I pack up the rest of my belongings in the luggage Stella bought me for graduation. She packed a note inside saying she wanted me to see the world. My furniture will be picked up in the morning and donated to the rehab center. God knows they could use a little color.
The last thing I pack is a picture of my brother. I still miss him and regret my last day with him, but I know he would be so proud of me for getting my life together. His death is something I will live with every day, but I’ve come to understand that his life was his own and no amount of me wanting it to be different would have changed the outcome. He didn’t want it, and I truly think he wanted to die. The ironic thing is that his death has given me a chance at life, one I’ve only been able to dream of. If he was still alive, I’d probably be in the same place, fighting to survive and blurring my nights with drugs. I know it sounds odd, but I’m thankful to him for giving me my life back. I’m only sorry that he had to lose his.
I place his picture in the top of my luggage and take him with me because I never want to forget him.
The train station buzzes with people. The entrance is covered with taxis letting people out to get to their destinations. I look around wondering where they’re all going. Are they starting a new life like me?
Once I get through the ticket line, the inside is even busier. The sound of people talking echoes through the station. The intercom comes on with a
man’s voice announcing the arrival of the train. A few seconds later, I hear the blast of the train’s horn coming down the tracks, then the squeaking of the brakes as it comes to a halt. It makes the floor beneath me rumble. The train doors slide open and passengers flood out. Once they are all clear, the next herd of people starts boarding. Luggage rolls across the ground and shoes scrape on the steps as people board the train.
I stand out of the way, watching as people say goodbye to their loved ones. Some crying and some smiling at their send-offs. Parents are yelling at kids to stay away from the tracks.
The intercom comes on again announcing that it’s final boarding time. I pick up my suitcase and adjust the strap of my bag on my shoulder and take my first step into the train. The first step into my new life.
Some passengers are already lost in conversation, and others have their heads stuck in a newspaper or a computer, ignoring the world around them. I walk further into the crowded train and find an empty seat across from a couple lost in each other. I place my bags in the compartment and try to make myself comfortable on the small bench seat.
The slow forward lurch of the train has me staring out the window. “Goodbye, New York City,” I say to myself. I watch the city fade as the train picks up speed. I’m leaving life as I knew it, and I’m excited about starting over, yet there is this sadness about letting go.
I dig my book out of my jacket pocket and try to focus on the story, but the kids bouncing and screaming in the seats across the aisle distracts me. If it’s not them, it’s the sound of the cans clattering out of the vending machines a few rows down. There is a man dressed in a blue button-down and jeans standing at the Coke machine, rattling around coins, trying to decide what he wants. I can only see the back of his head, yet I watch him with curiosity.