“No.” I took a step back, away from Murphy. Away from Keith. Forever. “That’ll just make it harder.”
He shook his head. “You don’t want this, Sam. I know you don’t.”
Of course I didn’t… but I refused to feed Keith to the monster inside me. My bottom lip trembled as I swallowed back the sorrow and asked one last thing from the man I loved. “Please don’t tell anyone why we split. If people find out, I might lose my job, and I want to hold onto that for as long as I can. I’ll let people know when the time comes.”
Keith stood there chewing over my words. “What do I tell my family?”
“Anything but the truth. Blame it on me, Keith. Tell them I cheated or that I broke it off. Just don’t tell them about this. Please.”
A storm passed over him. Anger. Despair. Hopelessness. He hated me. He loved me. I was destroying him – but only so he could live the life I could never give him.
“I would have stayed,” he said.
“I know. And that’s why you have to go. Someday, when you have a beautiful wife wrapped in your arms and a bunch of rowdy little kids crowding around, you’ll think of this moment and you’ll thank me.”
Keith defiantly shook his head.
“No, Sam,” he replied, carrying Murphy out the front door. “No, I won’t.”
34
Keith: Public Enemy #1
Like a refugee, I carried boxes of belongings into my parent’s house – the only place I’d found that would allow dogs on such short notice– and unpacked my measly possessions with a sense of finality. This was not what I wanted. And it certainly wasn’t what spoiled only-dog Murphy wanted. He now had to share attention with Mike, the golden retriever; Sally, the Shih Tzu mix; and Joshua, the tabby. And although Murphy didn’t say as much, I knew he already missed his mom.
My parents’ place might have been pet-friendly, but it came with judgmental disappointment. Sam had been a popular addition to the family, and because I wasn’t able to disclose the real reason for our split, my family just assumed I was the dickhead who’d left her. And then if you paired my perceived heartless dumping with the recent death of her mother, I came out looking like a double dipping of dog shit.
A long, drawn-out sigh of discontentment from Murphy drew my attention.
“You and me both, Mur.” I matched his canine melancholy with my own dismal sigh. “You and me both.”
Mom came in sometime later to talk, and when I say talk, I mean she came in to torture me for information. Armed with the promise of my favorite meatball dinner, she pressed for details.
“I can go talk to her,” she offered. “Maybe that will help.”
“No, Mom, it would be the opposite of helping. She doesn’t want to be part of my life anymore, and by default, that means you have to break up with her too.”
I knew such a loss would haunt my mother. Over the past five years, she and Sam had grown as close as mother and daughter. It had been a slow growing relationship, with both women scarred by trust issues, but once they bonded over their shared interest – me – there was no stopping them.
Sam had been close to Quinn as well. The two had formed an attachment after she’d accidentally wandered into his room on her way to the bathroom in my parents’ sprawling home. Although my mother had touted Quinn’s musical abilities, Sam once claimed that she thought my mom might have actually been downplaying his talents.
Despite the fact that I hadn’t cracked and disclosed to my mother why Sam and I broke up, dinner was still delivered to my room an hour later by none other than one very pissed off Quinn.
“What the hell did you do to her?” His words were steeped in accusation.
“It’s none of your business,” I fired back.
“You’re an idiot, you know that? And don’t think I’m going to stop seeing her just because you’re a cataclysmic douchebag.”
Tell me how you really feel, Quinn. I suppose I could have defended myself and blamed the breakup on Sam, as she’d requested, but despite the pain and anger I felt, I loved her too much to paint her as the villain. Plus, I was just too tired to fight. Today, I just wanted to lick my wounds. So I’d eat my meatball dinner in the sanctity of my own room, content playing the bad guy role if it let those around me stay hopelessly in love with Samantha Anderson.
Later, my dad popped his head in. “You wanna watch a movie?”
I eyed him suspiciously. A movie with my father was never just a movie. See, he liked historical dramas. Not, mind you, the cool kind like World War Two blood baths, oh no. Dad preferred those biopic snooze fests featuring historical figures that did nothing but talk for the first three hours before finally getting their heads blown off. “Depends. Which one are we talking?”
“You know…” He hesitated a second too long, giving himself away. “An action flick.”
“Dad, I know you’re lying. You get that twitch in your right eye. I can’t believe you’d try to trick me into one of your shitty movies. You do realize this is the worst day of my life, right?”
“Oh,” he said, his face contorting in fake concern. “I’m sorry about that, Mrs. Lincoln. Other than that, how was the play?”
So much for sympathy. I cast a pillow at his retreating form.
It wasn’t until Grace came by that I got an offer I couldn’t refuse.
Slipping into my room with her pedicure kit, she asked, “You want me to paint your toes?”
Well, damn. The fam was really pulling out all the stops tonight.
“Why the hell not?” I grumbled, extending my virgin digits.
And for the next half hour, she painstakingly painted my toes gray, the same color as my gloomy disposition. Then, with the steadiest hand I’d ever seen, the little artist in Grace delicately drew a colorful surfboard on each big toe. It was actually super cool and I felt a smidge of my spirit return.
Once she left, I crossed the room and rummaged through the bin until I found what I was looking for. Careful not to ruin my toenails, I sat on the bed and opened the box with the non-returnable engagement ring I was now never going to use. The smug face of the jeweler came to mind. He’d called this. Shaking my head, I threaded the ring through a leather band and triple-tied it for safety before slipping it over my neck and pressing my lips against the precious stone – effectively kissing my future goodbye.
* * *
I woke the next day to something slimy against my cheek. Without opening my eyes, I swatted Murphy away.
“Go away, Mur.”
“Ruff!” My eyes shot open and I scrambled up. A pile of sunflower seeds slid from my soggy cheek and fell to a pile in my lap.
“What the fuck, dude?” I blasted Lassen as I fluffed the sheet, flinging discarded shells all over the place. “Were you spitting sunflower seeds on my cheek?”
“Maybe.”
I narrowed in on my sleep time enemy. “You’re disgusting, you know that? All of you. Always.”
Lassen laughed – once – then stepped back and took a seat in the chair by the desk. “Aren’t you a little ray of pitch black?”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m your fairy godmother.”
“No, you’re the devil incarnate.”
Another single-syllable laugh. “You say tomato, I say tomahto.”
I was tired and cranky and in no mood for riddles. “What… do… you… want?”
“I brought you a box full of sunflower seeds.”
I eyed him suspiciously. Since getting back together with Sam five years ago, I only partook in the seed addiction when she wasn’t around since it made her gag. But Lassen’s box of kernels had another meaning.
“You think I’m going to relapse?” I asked.
“You just lost your woman. I’m erring on the side of caution.”
“Well, don’t. I’m fine.”
“At the moment, sure. But what happens weeks from now… months? You need to go back to AA meetings, Keith. Just to keep your mind strong. And lucky
for us, since you slept until fucking four in the afternoon, there’s actually one that starts in an hour. Get up. Let’s go.”
I last thing I wanted to do was spend what was left of the day with Lassen, but the man was strangely persistent, and I knew I wouldn’t be getting rid of him anytime soon.
“Uuhhh.” I flung the sheets off my body and headed for the shower.
* * *
Even though I hated to admit it, Lassen was right. I needed to get my head on straight. Even if my first thought wasn’t drugs, it would be so easy to let myself go. I had to make sure that when the going got tough, I wouldn’t reach for a bottle or a pill or a joint.
As the meeting was wrapping up, Lassen slapped my shoulder. “I gotta run.”
“What’s the hurry?” I replied.
“I have a date.”
“With which wife?”
“None. I’m divorced.”
“From which one?”
“All of them.”
I scratched my head, confused. “So this is a new woman?”
“Yep.”
Good god. How did he do it? “You’re one of the Seven Wonders of the World.”
One laugh. “Someday, maybe I’ll share my secrets. But you’re not ready to absorb my teachings just yet.”
Lassen pushed his way down the row of AA members, knocking his ass into nearly every single face he passed. I couldn’t help but laugh since I knew it wasn’t an accident. He was such a jerk – and I loved the guy.
A minute later, the group leader called the meeting adjourned, and as I stood up to leave, I caught sight of a guy staring at me. Since I hadn’t disclosed to this group who I was, I instantly found myself on edge and hastily searched for the nearest exit.
“Kali?”
That voice. I’d know it anywhere.
“Screensaver?” I couldn’t believe my eyes. His hair was closely cropped and his body severely emaciated. Back in high school, Screensaver had been a shaggy-haired marshmallow, but now he looked more like a hollowed-out corpse.
“The name’s James, asshole.”
I laughed, giving my old friend a hug. “Damn, dude, long time no see. What have you been up to?”
He held his arms out to the side. No explanation was needed.
“Bad, huh?”
“The worst.” James appeared so defeated.
I remembered that feeling well. “Sorry, man.”
He shrugged. “Anyway, you look good, Kali. How you been?”
“Eh.” I shrugged. “Broke up with my girl. Just making sure I don’t relapse. Have you seen Valentine or Fire Crotch?”
“I haven’t seen either one in years. Someone told me Fire Crotch got his act together after high school, but I have no idea where he is now. Last I heard, Valentine was in prison. He stabbed some guy a couple of years ago in a drug deal gone bad.”
Valentine’s fate wasn’t necessarily a surprise, but it shocked me all the same. That could have been me had my father not stepped in and demanded change. It could have been me had Sam not taken me on and helped change my life.
I gripped James’s shoulder. “I’d like to say you look good, but dude, I can tell you’ve had a rough go of it.”
“Yeah. Real rough. I’ve been dealing with this shit since I smoked my first joint at twelve. Just finished my third rehab. It’s a struggle. Can’t hold down a job. Been living with my parents all these years. They finally had enough and tossed me out. I don’t blame them. I was a mess. I really gotta get it together this time.”
“You’ll do it,” I answered with all the encouragement I could muster. The truth of the matter was, Screensaver was fragile. One misstep and he’d be lost again.
“You’re doing well, though,” he said, seemingly eager to change the subject. “I heard you opened a surf shop. Good for you, man.”
“Well, you know, I had a little help from my rich and famous brother.”
He smiled without an ounce of jealously. James had always been a nice kid, if more than a little dopey. “Congrats on Jake’s success too. You must be so proud of him.”
“I am. Thanks. How come you never came to the shop to say hi?”
He shifted from heel to heel, his head hanging low. “I’ve been on the outs for a while. Homeless. Last thing I wanted was for people I knew to see me that way.”
I nodded, understanding his predicament perfectly. “But you’re clean now.”
He lip edged up as he bowed his head. “I am, but you know how it is. I’ve got to fight to keep it…”
I stopped him. “Do you want it?”
“Want what? To be clean?”
“Yeah. Do you want it?”
“I do, Kali.” His eyes filled with tears. “I want it so bad. I’m just… I’m so damn tired.”
I thought back to Lassen and how much he’d helped me when I was hopeless like James. I’d reeked of a man in need of help and compassion. That same smell was now drifting off James. Building my old friend back up would take a considerable amount of time. Luckily for him, my schedule had recently been cleared.
“You got a mentor?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Nah.”
I laid my arm over his shoulder and walked him toward the door. “How do you feel about sunflower seeds?”
35
Keith: Lunch Intervention
“I like raisins too.”
Oh, god. James was speaking again. When would he learn? I looked up from the safety of the merchandise boxes only to find him making a play for Taylor again. I glanced over at my manager, Nick, who was already silently chuckling; and that, of course, made me stifle a laugh.
Since the day James had started working for me at Kali’s, he’d formed a massive, unrequited crush on Taylor, the hottest surfer chick this side of the equator. None of us had the heart to tell him his chances with her were about as good as him getting out of a revolving door in one pass, but still he insisted.
James was nothing if not persistent. He was pursuing Taylor with the same determination he’d employed in tackling his addiction. That day I took him home like a stray dog in need of a bath, I hadn’t had the highest hopes for him. Yes, I was determined to do what I could, but I wasn’t sure he had the strength of mind to overcome his cravings. But what I also hadn’t banked on was my parents welcoming scruffy James in like one of their own and nurturing him back to health.
Soon my old friend was his goofy self, just without the puff of smoke that used to settle over him like stinky smog. Together we moved into a condo on the beach and became Murphy’s platonic co-parents. And now, nearly a year clean, James was in a good place and ready for love. Unfortunately his heart had imprinted on Taylor, the sea goddess he had absolutely no business making a play for.
“These are blueberries, James.”
I could almost hear her eyes roll. Taylor’s patience was wearing thin. This was, after all, a multiple-times-a-day occurrence.
“Oh. I like blueberries too.”
“That’s nice.”
I cringed. Those two words were some of the worst a guy would hear from the love of his life. James was going down.
“Actually,” he hesitated. “I lied. I don’t really like blueberries because they turn my teeth blue.”
Taylor’s eyes widened, perhaps realizing for the first time that she too might suffer such a fruit-related malady. I could see her vain attempt at cleansing her pearly whites with her tongue.
James saw it too and jumped at the chance to correct his mistake. “But you look good with blue teeth.”
Oh, well, shit. His plane just hit the ground, exploding. So painful. I turned away, my cheeks burning hot for him. I needed to take James to a library or a Starbucks, somewhere he could meet a girl who might appreciate his unique ramblings. Yet I knew my friend. He’d be back at it tomorrow, trying desperately to get the girl to notice him. I had to hand it to him – even with his awkward attempts at bonding, James was further than I was with women. At least he was trying, which was more th
an I could claim.
The door chimed as a tall brunette walked in, and I had to do a double take. Emma? I was still getting used to the drastic change in her. Not only was her hair not bleach blonde, but her belly was swollen and her smile was ear to ear. Who was this woman and what had she done with my cranky sister?
Heading straight for her, I wrapped her in a hug. “What are you doing here?”
“Taking you to lunch.”
We hadn’t done our biweekly lunch dates since she’d met and fallen in love with Finn. I’d only initiated them years back when she needed the company, but now that she was a happy and fulfilled woman, she didn’t need her big brother anymore.
“Well, hot damn. Are you paying?”
She glanced around the busy shop. “I should think you could afford it.”
She was right, I could. “Nick, take over. James, leave Taylor alone and watch Murphy for me.”
* * *
Settled into a booth at a restaurant down the street, Emma talked about all the new and exciting happenings in her life – Finn and the baby who was only a few more weeks away. I’d never thought I’d see the day when Emma let her guard down and opened herself up to love. I was so proud of her.
“So, tell me what’s happening with you. I see you still have your stray.”
“Murphy?” I asked.
“No, James.”
I laughed, taking a gulp of my soda before she covered my hand with hers. “How are you doing, really?”
“I’m okay.”
“Are you? Because I get the distinct impression you’re still stuck on Sam. Have you seen her?”
“No. Sam and I are not getting back together, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“But Keith, if you’re not moving on, maybe you should turn around and go back. Beg for her forgiveness.”
“Why does everyone just naturally assume I’m to blame? Has it ever occurred to you, or to anyone in this family, that she broke it off with me for her own reasons, and she doesn’t want me back?”
Rogue Wave: Cake Series Book Five Page 28