“Then, you scold Andy for protecting you in his own way, yet you’ve loved and trusted him over half your life. Shit, seems like the last thing anyone would want to be right now, is loved by you. I’m sorry sweetheart, I know that sounds harsh, but it’s a truth you need to hear. Hate me if you must. Hell, at this rate, please do, because you’d probably treat me better.” Marco tried to soften the blow with a halfhearted laugh and what she hoped was a joke, but it didn’t work. It felt like the truth, and she wasn’t ready to swallow that pill quite yet.
“Look honey, I’m not trying to hurt you, that’s the last thing I want to do, you know that, but you’ve got to see the truth of it. You’ve just temporarily misplaced that beautiful, loving nature of yours, and filled the hole with doubt and pain, I’m trying to help you find it again. You need to look deep inside your heart and do some real soul-searching. The kind that hurts like the devil because of the level of honesty it takes. Then, you have some tough choices to make. But make them for the right reasons and based on facts, not speculation.”
Marco seemed to soften somewhat and pulled Erika closer still, placing his cheek against her head. “Oh darlin’, you need to take off those juvenile glasses, the ones tinted with all that hurt, and look at things like the smart and strong woman you are. If you do that, I guarantee you it will work out.” With that, Marco kissed her on the cheek, pulled her up off the couch and left with sad, but hopeful, eyes.
Erika stood there for God knows how long trying to process what was said. Somewhere inside, she knew the honesty of what she’d heard, but was she brave enough to look deeper?
CHAPTER TWELVE
LATE JANUARY
WALKER
The chorus of “Tattooed Millionaire”’ sliced through the silence of the darkened room, drawing Walker from yet another dream of hazel eyes flooded with passion and sweaty bodies in the cab of a Dodge.
“Again?” Walker muttered to himself as he scanned the caller ID, plunking the phone back onto the bedside table before grabbing the other pillow, shoving it over the back of his head and screaming into the one below his face. And there it is, as expected, his “Holy Diver” text tone indicating he had a Goddamned text message, what a fucking shocker.
This was pretty much the routine since Andy and Erika had left for North Dakota. At first it was every other week, then weekly and now, fucking daily. Every morning, same time, Andy called. And just like for the last gazillion mornings when Walker failed to answer, he texted him.
ANDY: Hope all is well man, have you read the folder yet?
And just like every other fucking morning, Walker tossed the pillow aside within a minute or two and texted back his standard one word response.
WALKER: Nope
And again, mimicking what had become customary, when he pushed send on his nope, Dio broke through before the phone left his hand.
ANDY: You should man, trust me. It’ll change everything. Until tomorrow. Have a good one.
It was kind of strange, but comforting in a Jerry Springer kind of way. Walker was feeling a connection of some sort with Andy, and it wasn’t that they had made love to the same woman. That thought was still borderline intolerable, but it was a fact Walker was learning to accept. Even though the level of Andy’s acceptance of him and what had happened was freaky, to say the least, Walker couldn’t help but believe Andy honestly wanted the best for him and for Erika.
Andy was the only fucking one at this point. Tori used to mother hen him to death, but since the whole Erika thing, Tori had been distant. She reached out in the beginning, if you counted the time she raged into his house babbling about what kind of man could throw everything he ever wanted away and pretend anyone who was inconvenient for him didn’t exist.
She was also dealing with her own shit. Her and Mel had solid plans to open a fit women clothing store and were moving forward, even put in their notice, so they were serious about it.
That’s all he was trying to do himself, move forward. He knew when he got to a good place, he’d reach out to everyone he’d wronged or pushed aside, but right now he had to be selfish and focus inward if he was ever to get it together. Walker could tell Tori was holding back, but he couldn’t worry about soothing her feathers, he had his own feathers to worry about, and apparently Andy’s via a manila folder in the bedside drawer. If he didn’t fucking read it soon, Andy would never leave him alone. The guy was downright relentless. Fucking lawyers.
Scooting up on the bed to rest against the headboard, Walker sighed heavily into the room, reached into the drawer, and retrieved the folder. Placing it reverently on his lap, he dragged his fingers along the edge and flipped the top open. Closing his eyes for a second, he opened them and grabbed the first piece of paper—a letter dated the morning after they made love, written in Erika’s hand.
Before he could read a single word, he brought the paper to his nose, inhaling slow and deep, holding it inside as long as possible before steadily exhaling. The scent of ink and paper had always had a calming effect on Walker. His appreciation for handwritten letters came from his mother. She stressed the impact they could have no matter the technology available. “Pen and paper will never go out of style,” she’d always said. His affinity never extended to writing letters, much to her disappointment, but he adored receiving them.
The sniffing habit came from his mother, too. It was almost as if she believed she could “smell” the emotions of the letter. Walker wasn’t sure about that, but if you closed your eyes and tried really hard, you could definitely feel the person, take their essence in as a scent that clung to the wood pulp and ink.
Erika was a major list maker and letter writer, and at the time he’d thought them a perfect pair in that aspect. He’d dreamed often of the day she’d make lists for their family and stick it on the fridge with his pizza delivery magnets; the day she’d write him love letters he could hoard away and reread whenever the mood struck.
Walker,
The keeper of my heart. A job you never asked for, but one I thrust upon you never the less. I apologize for that, but you must know, you held that position long before last night.
When I first meet you, I thought that one day you would own me heart and soul. I was wrong. There was no “one day,” you owned them and so much more the instant the needle pierced my skin, because you pierced my heart as well. I just didn’t realized it until I let go of the grays that swirled around me as fears. That moment you put color on my skin, you brought it into my monochromatic world too. You became one of my closest friends, and I will mourn that loss deeply.
Sadly, I wasn’t happy with that, I wanted more, more from you, more from us. When I finally admitted that to myself, I told my other best friend, and he’s the one who convinced me that I would never forgive myself if I didn’t tell you how I felt.
I still couldn’t confess the overwhelming love I have for you in my heart. I was a coward, I was afraid I was too old for you or that you didn’t feel the same. I was never good enough for anyone in the past. No family wanted me, no guy stuck around. Just Andy, until I meet you and Tori. That ingrained fear of being unwanted caused me to waste precious time we could have spent together, and I kicked myself every day that passed that you did not know the position you held in my heart.
That delay caused me to act rashly. When you spoke those words last night that I longed to hear, I was lost. Lost in the love I felt for you, the need to connect with you on a level we never had before. I let that need override my common sense and the truths I know about you as a man.
Walker, it is all my fault, the way things happened. I should have explained my situation with Andy, more thoroughly, AND before I allowed you to think you’d become what you hate most in this world. You are a good person, and if nothing else comes from this, know that you are the most amazing man I know, and I love you deeply. I know you Walker, and you are feeling like somehow you deserve to be treated like the other man, without honor or that you don’t deserve happiness because of
your past. You’ve said as much to me a hundred times.
Let me tell you, criminal records, tattoos, and language do not determine respect due. You ARE worthy of respect and happiness, and I disrespected you, and for that I can never apologize enough. You deserved so much more than I gave you, and that’s on me, not you. I won’t ask for forgiveness, that’s beyond my grasp and your ability right now. I will not ask you to forgive yourself either, because you did nothing wrong. You are not in need of forgiveness.
I figure right about now, you are running through that laundry list of bullshit things you call yourself that I absolutely abhor, but I want you to add one more to that list, something that is true; my soul mate, the keeper of my heart. Even though we aren’t together, it is still yours to hold. Without you in my life, I don’t need it. It was yours the day I meet you. And it will be yours when I leave this world. I regret not coming clean to you and the pain I caused by my actions, but I do not and will not regret making love to you.
I’m not giving up on you Walker, I love you too much. I will not harass you either. If ever comes the day that you can understand and forgive, then I will be waiting for you. Be it tomorrow, or ten years from now. I will wait.
I am yours.
I always have been.
I always will be.
Erika
Written in a different ink, at the bottom of her letter, dated the week she dropped of the folder, was another scrawled note.
I know you still haven’t forgiven yourself, like I said, there’s no need. However, I gathered these documents for you because I know that no matter how many people tell you that, you won’t believe them. These should serve as proof that you are not what you label yourself in reference to what happened between us.
Erika
As his tears fell upon her name, blurring the blue-inked lines, Walker realized he was crying. Funny he hadn’t noticed before sweeping his thumb across the salty drop and smearing the “k” and “a.” He let the precious paper float back down to his lap to land atop the others, noticing his hands. They trembled with his raw, unfiltered emotion. Examining them as if they belonged to a stranger, turning them this way and that. Finally bringing them to his face to rub away the tears.
When his mind and body synced back up, he choked on emotion. Not his own, but the ones Erika must have been feeling when she bleed her heart onto the page. It was the day after she’d let him taste forever. The day after he put his hands on her in anger and said hurtful things. The day after he’d destroyed his own heart with his fury and rage.
Yet, she wrote those words anyway. Through all the hurt and all his ugliness, she put beautiful thoughts on paper—for him. Such light. Such beguiling light. Even with the darkness inside him he let seep out and touch her, she held fast to her stunning light.
And then, reached out and tried to share it with him.
He would never deserve her, never. Even so, he was a selfish bastard, and didn’t know how to live in his darkness any longer, not after being bathed in her light. So, he let his soul weep. For her, for him, and for so many things. Three years in prison and not one teardrop or whimper, but now, he’d turned into a fucking watering can.
Walker lost track of time as the words dove off the page and swam through his blood stream. He remembered bathing his body while his heart writhed. Walker had a vague recollection of eating something at some point, but, he would be hard pressed to recall exactly what and when. He even managed to take a double digit mile run, while maybe, possibly, actually crying, then finally falling into emotional exhaustion, the gut-wrenching silent screams of his soul the soundtrack of his sleep.
Shit, if any of his buddies could see him now, they’d ask where he kept his tampons and chocolate. The feeling of being ripped in two never left him. Walker knew the right thing to do would be to stay the course he was on, and set Erika free. Allow her to linger in the sun, while he would exist the rest of his life in the shadows and never step into the light again. Her light.
Knowing what’s right and actually doing it, are two entirely different things. That’s where the ripping came from—he was pretty sure he would never do “the right thing.” Hell, he never had, and that was killing him. If he hurt her in any way—more than he already had—he admitted, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. But he was hurting her now by staying away. She held him blameless and shouldered it all for him.
Brought out of his head by Bruce Dickenson, he realized it must be morning again, because that would be Andy.
Wait for it…
Ah, and there’s Dio.
Grabbing the phone and reading a text he knew by heart, he thumbed a different reply for the first time.
WALKER: Started
Instead of the immediate response from Andy, there was an extended pause in communication. Walker took a touch of satisfaction knowing he stumped “Lawyer Andy.” Finally, the phone vibrated in his hand.
ANDY: Really? How much? Any questions?
WALKER: 1 page - letter from Erika
Another extended pause.
ANDY: Do you plan to continue? When?
WALKER: Yes - soon - later
Pause.
ANDY: Okay. If you need anything, questions, a shoulder. Call/text. Whatever, I’m here. For what it’s worth, I’m glad. Later.
Placing the phone back on the table, Walker reached for the next page, another letter, not in Erika’s large looping scroll either.
My Dearest Cinderika,
You know, I couldn’t love you more if I were straight.
Wait! What?
Walker eyes went no further than “straight.” He must’ve read that line five hundred times before he allowed it to permeate his brain. Andy was gay. Erika was his wife, but…not his wife. Erika hadn’t slept with Andy, nor cheated on him, in the traditional sense that is.
That meant…oh shit…he was going to be sick again. Rushing to the bathroom, the paper scattered on the floor, but he made it before he threw up all over the place.
After praying to the porcelain god for five minutes, Walker pulled himself up from the cool tile, brushed his teeth, and splashed his face with cold water. Before he turned to leave, he caught his own reflection in the mirror above the sink, one of the few he hadn’t broken.
He staggered back at what he saw. No longer the broken, pathetic man who had greeted him every day since he made love to Erika. No, this man was even more pathetic. He was whole and hopeful. At least he was before reality came and bitch slapped him.
Whole and hopeful? Ha, try hollow and hopeless. How could he ask for Erika’s forgiveness after what he said? What he did?
Walker wasn’t worthy of her forgiveness, hell, he wasn’t worthy of her. Never had been. That one night, that one exquisite night with Erika was a taste of something redeeming. For the first time in his miserable life, that span of time in her truck, until she uttered those words, he didn’t feel like a fraud. The feeling that had haunted him every single moment of each day, left. It exited his body as soon as he entered hers. With the words of love he pulled from her lips, they were banished, never to return.
That was before she said the “m” word. The revelation hit him with such force, he plopped back onto the bath mat, landing on his ass. “Oh my God. She banished my demons. Every last one, and instead of thanking her, I invited them back into my heart, begged them to return. Sought out their familiar presence and comfort because…”
The words Walker whispered into the empty bathroom stopped abruptly, but as he dropped his head to his hands, they echoed and mocked him.
“And I did it just so they could help me rip her heart out.”
Even after all the therapy with Gus, this was a true “ah-ha” moment. One that changed everything, for the better or worse was the million dollar question. He could run back and embrace his demons with finality. Let them take over like they’d been trying to do for years or he could run to North Dakota, into the light.
This revelation, this clarity? It c
ould change his life for the better, not just the worst. It could if he allowed it to, that is, it definitely had the power. Could he seize it, wield it? Control it and accept that he was worthy of it? Or would the voice of his demons convince him he didn’t deserve the happily ever after?
Screw it, he may not deserve her but, damn it…
Scratch that, he did deserve her…
Does, does deserve her.
It’s true, that he didn’t, but now? He finally believed, truly believed he was worthy of being loved. Loved by a good woman like Erika. What kind of moron wouldn’t fight for that? Only a complete and utter idiot would let what they shared go, and Walker Aaron Reid was not that completely idiotic, no matter what his recent behavior suggested.
That acceptance didn’t stop the flood of emotions cascading through every cell in his body. The difference was, this time, they were not awash in self-censure and anger. After he engaged in some much needed self-therapy and realization, he showered and returned to the bedroom.
His eyes landed on the papers scattered on the floor. Tossing the towel back into the bathroom, Walker bent and started gathering each sheet as if it were precious, because it was. He would devour every last word since Erika took the time to leave it for him. It must be important in some way.
Crossing his legs and landing on the bed with a bounce, he began sorting through the contents of the folder, acknowledging his nudity with a smirk. It seemed only right he be as raw and exposed as Erika must have felt gathering these and sharing them with him. It felt like a strange layer of connection that way. Gus had always advocated nude therapy because of the vulnerability and exposure, although he’d never went there in their sessions, but damned if she wasn’t right. In his own home, alone, he still felt exposed by reading the papers in the buff. Tilting his eyes, he breathed a silent thanks to Gus.
Indelible You (Imagine Ink) Page 11