Intense 2

by Hebert, Cambria

  “I thought I knew who you were.” Liliana looked shell shocked by the turn of events.

  “You’re a smart lady. You got it right the first time. You pegged me that very first night in Montauk.”

  “So, you don’t love me?”

  It was just like Liliana to go back and keep harping away at something. Like a terrier, she was so tenacious and he admired that in her, usually. He needed her out of the country, safe at home either in Newport Beach or back at Yale and the only way to do that was to decimate her, break her heart, make her doubt everything she thought to be true, constantly question if it was merely a lie. Everywhere she looked at camp needed to be filled with memories of him, every star in the African sky had to be one they had wished upon, every moment at the project had to reek of him. And it not only had to hurt like hell, it had to be maddening. It needed to be so tormenting that Liliana Castillo could not spend another moment in any place that held the slightest memory of Zac Moore.

  “No Lily. I don’t love you.”

  “Why Zac? You were already fucking two girls, why’d you need to do that to me?”

  “You’ve seen me on the projects fixing things and taking on the problems no one else wants. I love challenges.”

  With nostrils flaring, her face reddened with anger, “You’re a fucking asshole, Zac.”

  Appearing calm and cool, as if there were ice coursing through his veins, “I never hid that from you, Liliana.”

  “You’re not worth loving,” were the last words she spat out before turning on her heel and stalking out of his hospital room.

  “You got that right,” he said to no one.

  Attempting to sit up, thinking for a fleeting moment that he needed to go after her, tell her the truth, that he just needed her out of danger, that she was not only the love of his life, but his personal salvation, that he couldn’t think of any other way to get her strong willed ass out of the country than to rock her world down to the core, because anything less would not get her off the African continent.

  Wracked with pain and bound by tubes and machines, his attempt to right the gross injustice ended as quickly as it began. Dizziness and nausea swept over his weakened body, thwarting his effort.

  Reaching to his right, the agony of just pressing the button on his morphine pump was overwhelming. Using the call speaker, he let the nurse on duty know that the morphine wasn’t working and his pain was at an unbearable level.

  As he waited for them to come and give him something that he prayed would knock him out and make him forget — forget the look in her eyes, the pleading in her voice, the pain he knew he had caused her — a gutted Zac Moore finally let himself acknowledge that he’d never see her smile again, the smile he knew he was responsible for making a regular fixture on her beautiful face. And he knew there were no pain killers strong enough to dull the agony of that loss.

  His father was sitting by his bedside when he awoke. Zac looked at him, silently willing his father to tell him about Lily, let him know that she was alright.

  As if understanding his son’s silent plea, “I put Lily on a plane this morning.”

  “To where?” he prayed not back to their site mid-country in the Congo.

  “To California.”

  Zac closed his eyes. At least it hadn’t all been for naught. She was gone and she’d be safe back in Newport Beach. Lily was a survivor, he knew that. She’d get her act together with more resolve than ever and be back at Yale on her way to finishing her pre-med requirements. He knew that, too. And amid the overwhelming pain in his heart, he felt good. He would not have to worry. Liliana Castillo could certainly take care of herself in either Newport Beach, California or New Haven, Connecticut. He had totally fulfilled his promise to her father and his.

  “She was destroyed, Zac. What did you say to her?” Schooner’s brows were tightly knit.

  “I did what I had to do to get her out of here and on a plane, Dad.” Zac’s voice was little more than a whisper.

  “I hope you weren’t cruel,” Schooner was concerned.

  “I did what I had to do to get her out of here and on a plane,” Zac repeated.

  “I know you were doing what you felt was right,” Schooner crossed his long legs.

  “Dad, it was Lily. You know Lily. You know how tenacious and strong willed she is. She loved this project. We had decided to re-up for another TDY. She was not going to leave.” The pain in Zac’s eyes was from far more than his physical injuries.

  Schooner just nodded, understanding. “Are you OK?”

  Zac shook his head, “No.”

  “I’m sorry, Zac. And I’m sorry that Berto and I put you in this position.”

  “Truth is, Dad, I’m probably the only one who could’ve gotten her out of here. I just need to focus on that and on knowing that she’s going to be safe now.”

  Fighting hard to control tears he desperately wanted to shed, Zac was proud at how noble he had become, but the price was ripping him to shreds.

  “It doesn’t have to be over, Zac. Call her when you get home.” Schooner was going into pep talk mode.

  Shaking his head, “That horse has left the barn. There’s no going back from what was said. We’re over.”

  “Never say never,” Schooner smiled, giving his son one of those brilliant Moore smiles.

  “Trust me on this one, Dad. This one cannot be resurrected. She’s gone. And I’m just going to have to deal.”

  Looking at his dad, Zac could see old ghosts in Schooner’s eyes and knew he was recounting the pain he had felt when he had lost Mia. It was decades before the two reunited. “I understand and I’m so sorry. I’d like to tell you that it gets better, because it does, but everybody’s way of coping and healing is different.”

  Zac nodded and the two men were silent for a while.

  “She’s the first girl I loved,” Zac began to talk. “Isn’t that funny, I’ve had girls chasing me my whole life, but none of them ever got to me in the way that this girl did. I just wanted to make her happy. I’ve never cared about someone I dated or was sleeping with that way. But Lily… seeing her smile was like my personal hold on the sun. I felt every smile in my heart,” and finally the tears began to flow, “and now it feels like I’m lost in darkness and I don’t know if I even want to find my way out, Dad.”

  Rising from his chair, Schooner put the side rail down on Zac’s bed to sit on the edge. Taking his son’s hand in his as if in an attempt to transfer all his strength to the younger man, Schooner held onto Zac as tightly as he could, letting his son shed the tears of the harrowing trauma and all that had been ripped from him in recent days.

  Finally, the older man spoke, “You are the strongest man I know, and don’t laugh when I say this, the most honorable.”

  Zac smiled through his tears at his father’s statement.

  “It’s true,” Schooner went on. “What you have been through and what you have sacrificed are more than I have seen any man endure or relinquish in my lifetime. When I tell you I am proud of you, those words don’t do justice to what I’m feeling in my heart. What we can’t do here is not address what happened and the trauma not only to your body, but the long term effects it’s going to have on you psychologically and emotionally.”

  Zac nodded as tears continued to stream down his cheeks.

  “So, you need to be open to ensuring it’s not just your body that heals, Zac, because realistically, that might be the easiest mountain we have to climb.” Squeezing his son’s hand tighter, “Never for a moment forget that you won’t be climbing those mountains alone. You have a family who is going to be with you every step of the way, through good days and really shitty ones, and we’re going to make sure that you get all the help you need to deal with what you have been through, OK.”

  Again, Zac nodded, unable to speak through his emotion.

  “And on days when you feel like you’re in the dark and don’t know if you want to find your way out, we’ll send in the reinforcements,” he stoppe
d and smiled, “Heckle and Jeckle.”

  Zac laughed.

  Just as Zac had to pull out the big guns with Liliana, Schooner was pulling out the big guns with Zac — Nathaniel and Portia.

  “If those two ever lost their big brother, they would be destroyed. They worship you, Zac. And rightly so. You’re a big brother they can look up to and they love you with all their hearts.”

  “I feel the same about them,” Zac finally spoke.

  Schooner had pushed the right button. The thing Zac needed to focus on to pull him out of the weeds was his family and more specifically, his role as big brother to Natie and Po. They were his talismans and Schooner knew Zac would never want to let them down or cause a moment of heartache for either of them.

  “I’m sorry I had to break her heart, Dad.”

  “I’m just sorry it was at the expense of yours.” Schooner looked at his son with sad eyes.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Christmas Eve

  The Moore’s SoHo Loft

  New York City

  “Stop jumping on your brother,” Mia yelled out from the loft’s open kitchen as she prepared hors d’oeuvres for the night’s holiday gathering.

  After an arduous, but successful, rehab in Germany, Zac returned home in time for the holidays. Sensing, without truly understanding the devastating circumstances of nearly losing their big brother, Natie and Po refused to leave his side and were often found on top of him.

  Taking on the role of nurse, Portia made him tea and snacks and relegated the role of orderly to Nathaniel, having him bring pillows and blankets and retrieve the television remote for Zac so that their big brother would not have to get up from the couch. The two little ones could be found flanking their older brother in bed every morning, although they had begun the night in their own beds. With the sixth sense of siblings, the younger Moores understood that they were key to expediting their big brother’s recuperation.

  The elevator to the loft opened, delivering a package-laden Schooner Moore bundled in a down jacket, blue plaid cashmere scarf and a black knit cap pulled down to his eyes.

  “Daddy,” Natie and Po jumped off the couch in unison to greet him.

  Emerging from the kitchen and planting a kiss on her husband’s frosty cold lips, Mia grabbed the day’s mail off the top of the packages he was carrying and sat down on the couch to open the stack of newly arrived holiday cards.

  Sitting down to join them, “How are you feeling today?” Schooner inquired of his older son.

  “Pretty good, because I drank Portia’s magic tea,” he smiled at his little sister and then to his dad, “I feel like a barometer. I swear I could feel the change in the weather. I knew exactly when the cold front was coming through, even before it blew through today. I could totally feel it at the wound sites. They burned like crazy.”

  “Not surprising, we see that often with clients that have had injuries or suffer from inflammatory diseases.”

  “Read it, Mommy,” Nathaniel begged.

  “OK,” Mia began, “Once a year, when the snow is high, comes eight reindeer through the sky. Delivering gifts to girls and boys, candy, presents and lots of toys. Wishing you a very happy holiday, The Simon Family.”

  “I get this one,” Portia announced.

  “No Po, mine,” Nathaniel countered.

  “Portia, I think this one is Natie’s. You get the next one. There’s plenty tonight.” Mia held up the stack of mail.

  Handing Nathaniel the card, he ran over to the fireplace and looked back at his father for help. Schooner rose from the couch with a smile and swept the toddler up in one arm. Nathaniel deftly opened the card and placed it on the ribbon adorning the mantle, joining the other holiday greetings.

  Mia slit open the next envelope and opened the card, “Look, Toys R Us gift cards.” She held up the two cards. “This is from Uncle Henry in California.” Ignoring the plastic gift cards, Portia retrieved the card from her mother and made her way to her step stool by the fireplace to hang it.

  As Mia silently read the next card, her cheek muscles twitched and she inhaled sharply. Without a word, Mia handed the card to Zac.

  Flipping open the iconic Courier & Ives Christmas image, the blank card contained a handwritten note.

  Dear Schooner, Mia & Family,

  I hope this letter finds you all well and enjoying the holidays. This has been quite a year for both our families and we are very fortunate to all be safe, healthy and together. The last few months have been trying as Liliana reacclimatizes after the trauma experienced in the Congo, but every day we see her growing stronger. I hope that you are seeing Zac’s continued progress in his healing. Hopefully in the coming year we will all be able to reunite and celebrate our blessings.

  Happy holidays,

  Berto Castillo

  Zac sat there for a long while rereading the note. This was his first news of Lily in months. From her father’s words, she’d been having a tough time. Maybe I should reach out to her, he wondered, I want to help her. I want to make it better. Take back everything I did and said to cause her pain. But Berto said that every day she was growing stronger. I should just leave her alone, let her heal and move on with her life. She doesn’t deserve the crap I bring her.

  Rising from the couch, Zac left the living room, Berto’s card still in hand. Lying on his bed, he read it over, two, three, four times. Berto’s words made him feel closer, connected to Lily.

  “Lils, please don’t hate me,” he said to the card. “I did what I did because I love you. I hope someday that you’ll be able to see that. Maybe someday I’ll be able to tell you.” His heart hurt from the thoughts. “Merry Christmas, Lils,” he said to the card.

  Slowly, Zac rose from the bed, the pain more acute than it had been in weeks. Slipping the card into the cover of the journal his therapist had him keeping, he stood for a moment with his palm on the journal’s cover, fingers spread wide.

  Rejoining his family, Zac readied himself for their Christmas Eve festivities.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Junior Year/Senior Year

  Spring into Fall

  New York City

  Back in school at CCNY, taking a double course load to make up for lost time, Zac threw himself into schoolwork, time with Nathaniel and Portia, and workout sessions to continue to strengthen his body. Working himself day and night helped him forget that last day of violence in the Congo for a few minutes at a time. Sometimes he’d even make it through an hour or two without hearing Lily’s voice in his head telling him that he wasn’t worth loving. I didn’t need you to tell me that, he would think, I already knew that.

  He asked out on dates a few girls from school and a few from the gym, hoping to find that elusive connection that he had felt with Liliana, desperately needing to prove to himself that he was capable of connecting with someone on a level deeper than just physical. With every date ending in sex, Zac became more and more despondent and convinced that he just didn’t possess the basic human ability to love properly. After the first date, he never called the any of the girls back. He was alone, but he was safe.

  Eventually, school, family, and the healing of his body became Zac’s sole focus. At the insistence of his father, he religiously maintained twice a week visits with a therapist to help him rid the constant thoughts of the Interhamwe and regularly occurring nightmares where the abduction and shoot out yielded very different results. Together, he and his therapist were making great strides in laying those demons to rest. The area in which his therapist wasn’t making headway, was in helping Zac to successfully relate in one-on-one relationships with women.

  Jack Stein looked like a shrink. Bearded, with dark hair and warm, probing brown eyes, he was always dressed in a plaid cotton shirt and worn jeans.

  Zac was convinced that Jack Stein had perfected silence.

  “Has it occurred to you that you pick women with whom you know you can’t relate?” Then he shut up.

  Zac shrugged.

 
“They’re girls I know from school, so you’d think we had something in common.”

  “What kind of interactions had you had with them leading up to asking them out on dates?” Jack’s voice was very calm and serene.

  Again, Zac shrugged and slouched down further into the big leather recliner.

  “I guess not much,” Zac finally responded.

  Silence followed.

  “I see,” Jack nodded and fell silent again. He let a few moments pass, “Zac, have you considered getting some closure with the woman you were in love with, so that you might be free to move on and experience success in another relationship?”

  “I got closure with her in Africa, Doc.” Zac’s shoulders visibly tensed.

  Jack watched Zac unconsciously rub the spots on his abdomen and chest where he’d been shot. His fingers stroked back and forth over the spots. Back and forth. Back and forth.

  “No Zac, you didn’t get closure. You ended your relationship under false pretenses. I understand it was for the greater good, but you did end it with a lie,” Jack paused. “Is it possible that you cannot successfully move on until you clear the slate?”

  “That slate’s been shattered into a million pieces.”

  “Well, what do you think is holding you back from having another successful relationship?”

  “Maybe I just don’t have the capacity to love.”

  “That’s flawed thinking. You’ve already proven that you do.” Jack dismissed Zac’s excuse.

  “Maybe I could only love her.”

  “Maybe you’re still in love with her,” Jack countered.

  Zac hated when his shrink sounded like Liz. Finally, he stopped dating altogether, focused on his studies, determined to graduate on time and get into a good graduate school program. He spent weekends studying or with his family or with Liz and her family. Their friendship and the fun they had together was more fulfilling than attempting a relationship he knew was going to bomb out. Liz had become just as much as a beard for him as he had always been for her.

  Release for Zac came in the form of intense exercise workouts or sexually as trysts against bathroom walls, in locked classrooms, or on the beach. They no longer involved dates or phone numbers or any of the pretenses that he was going to try and make things work. It was about fucking and release. He fulfilled a physical need. Nothing more.