Imperfect

by Cherry Shephard

  I finally turn my head toward him, watching as he continues to pace back and forth at the end of the bed. “I packed my bag that same morning,” Stone continues. “Grace begged me not to go, told me she’d divorce me if I left. But how could I stay? My country, my men, they needed me more than she did. So I did what I had to do.” He pauses his pacing and stands facing me, his eyes glazed over with sorrow. “I left,” he says, his voice catching in his throat. “I left my wife and the son I didn’t know she was carrying. My son. Two months later, I got the notice of intent to divorce. In my pain, I tore it up and vowed to never think of it again. When I was injured they looked for her, but she never responded to their messages. Then when I came back this time I was so fucking messed up that I just started drinking, and I’ve never stopped. I didn’t hear from Grace until yesterday, I think she just wanted to forget I existed. I knew I’d hurt her, but I couldn’t do anything about it. I had no idea she was fighting cancer.”

  My heart is breaking for him. Tears fill my eyes, making him appear blurred. I blindly reach out my hand for him, offering him a small amount of comfort. But I’m the one who receives the comfort when he accepts my hand and sits beside me on the edge of the bed. We say nothing, just sit, our hands clasped tightly together as we are both lost in our memories. Eventually, he places my hand gently back down on the bed and leaves the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

  I wipe my eyes and lean my head back against the headboard, but the tears won’t stop falling. I feel like my heart has been ripped out of my chest, stomped on and pushed through a meat grinder. It hurts so fucking bad. I can’t begin to imagine Stone’s pain . . . the pain of losing his wife, finding out she kept a son from him for fourteen years. I have so many questions, like why didn’t she tell him about Zeke? Why was she so against him joining the Army? I know in my heart I’ll never get the answers to these questions, but that doesn’t make it any easier. I want to hate Grace. How dare she keep Zeke away from his father! My breath catches on a small sob as my tears finally slow then stop. I’m exhausted all over again. I can’t hate Grace, as much as I want to. Yes, she did the wrong thing, but she did it for the right reason — to protect her child. Wouldn’t I have done the same? I have to get out of here. I need time to think. Summoning my strength, I call out to Stone. But there’s no answer. I huff angrily and blow the hair out of my face. As I glance down, my hand brushes against a piece of paper I hadn’t noticed before, sitting next to me on the bed. I pick it up and unfold it, my eyes widening as I read:

  Shan,

  I know you won’t like this, and to be honest, I’m too gutless to tell you to your face. Last night, you took a pretty bad fall, and your leg is pretty badly damaged.

  The doctor says you’ll be fine, but you’ll be unable to walk properly for the next 6-8 weeks. Sucks, I know.

  Don’t worry about Saddles. You’ll be able to get back to it as soon as you’ve learned to use crutches. Ruth, Keets and I will run the front for you.

  There’s something else. The doctor said you’ll need help with everyday activities like bathing. So you’re staying with me until the bandage comes off.

  Please don’t argue with me on this. You have no idea how terrified I was, seeing you lying in the rain unconscious like that.

  I’ll send Zeke in with some food for you soon. Don’t try to get out of bed. I know how stubborn you are, but just don’t, ok? I’ll be back as soon as I can.

  Stone

  I snort and suppress a short bark of laughter at his note. Me, stay here with him? He’s crazy! Of course I can look after myself. I’ve never needed anyone before but myself, and that’s not about to change just because of a stupid injured leg.

  I call out to Zeke, looking at the door expectantly. It doesn’t open. I call out again and again, until my throat is dry and hoarse. Where the hell is that kid? I sigh and glance down. My eyes widen when I see a wheelchair positioned next to me. Surely that can’t be a coincidence? Zeke must be out, must have left it there for me so I could get out of here. I must remember to give him an extra-large strawberry shake and fries the next time he’s in Saddles. I carefully ease the blankets back and swing both legs over the side of the bed. I grip one handle of the wheelchair and pull myself up from the bed, grinning in triumph.

  Pity the brakes aren’t on.

  The wheelchair shifts and rolls backwards. My face changes from smug pleasure to terror as I fall, face planting in the carpet. I groan in pain as my leg throbs and my hangover seems to increase tenfold. I’m pissed off, hurting, I have to pee, and I’m sure my face is red from embarrassment.

  The last thing I want right now is that bedroom door to open.

  I’m sitting in Saddles, nursing a beer and a massive headache.

  It sucked, leaving Shannon like that. I feel like such an idiot for bearing my soul that way. Shannon is injured; the last thing she needs or wants is my fucked-up baggage. How does she keep doing this to me? She’s tearing down every barrier I put up. Like a thief in the night, she’s sneaking in, undoing the lock around my heart and worm-crawling her way inside.

  And what about Zeke? He’d watched with wide eyes last night when Keets helped me carry Shannon inside. The poor kid has dealt with so much over the past twenty-four hours; another woman in his life is the last thing he needs. I swallow the last mouthful of beer in my glass and look over at the bar, catching Ruth’s eye as I hold up the empty glass. She grins and nods and I lower my arm, putting the glass back on the table. It’s only around 4 p.m. on a Thursday, but regulars are already starting to trickle into the bar, ready for a night of music and fun. I have to say, I’m impressed with the way Shannon runs the place. Everyone seems to know everyone else, and they look out for one another as only true friends can do.

  The door of the bar opens and I glance up to see an absurdly dressed woman enter, bringing with her a cloud of sickly sweet perfume that has me ducking my head to avoid the smell, making my headache worse. My face is tilted down toward my empty glass, but my eyes are raised as she saunters over to the bar. The hot pink leggings she’s wearing are stretched impossibly thin across her large ass.

  Ruth walks over with a fresh beer, putting the glass down on the table with a small smile. “How’s Shannon?” she asks. I pick up the glass and swallow about half of the beer, putting it back down on the table as I wipe my mouth with the back of my free hand. “She’s all right,” I answer, still looking over at the woman by the bar. She’s laughing at something Keets is saying, but he looks mighty uncomfortable. He points in our direction and the woman turns, a huge smile covering her face as she walks our way. I indicate toward the bar with my head. “Who’s that?” I ask.

  Ruth follows my gaze. “Urgh,” she groans. “That’s Effie. The town gossip. Brace yourself.”

  “Why?” I ask, an amused grin on my face. But she doesn’t get the chance to answer.

  “Ethan,” Effie purrs. I look up and see the hot-pink lady standing directly in front of me. I give her a smile and gesture to the seat next to her. She leans over as she sits, and her large breasts almost spill out of her white tank top. I’m not certain, but I suspect she meant for it to happen. “I’ve heard so much about you,” she says, flashing me a grin. I grin back, but it’s not for the reason she thinks. Her teeth are smeared with bright pink lipstick.

  “I wish I could say the same,” I respond graciously, glancing up at Ruth who’s standing there with an ‘I told you so’ smirk on her face. Effie notices me looking at Ruth and turns her face up toward the young bartender. “Can I help you?” she asks coldly, gesturing toward me. “We’re kind of in the middle of something here.” Ruth raises her eyebrows at me, and I give her a gentle smile and nod my head.

  “All right, I can take a hint,” she says with a laugh. “My shift is over, anyway. I might head on over and check on Shan, if that’s all right?”

  “Of course.” Why wouldn’t I say yes?

  “Great.” She smiles, placing a comforting hand on my shoulde
r as she passes behind me. “See you later, Effie,” she calls over her shoulder as she opens the front door and exits the bar.

  I turn back to Effie with a smile. “Effie, is it?” I ask, raising my glass to her. “Can I get you a drink?”

  “Oh, no thank you, sugar,” she gushes. “I just wanted to meet the handsome soldier who bedded our little Shannon.”

  I almost spit out my beer. My eyebrows shoot up toward my hairline and I quickly put down my glass as a coughing fit overcomes me for a moment. “E-excuse me?” I ask. My chest burns and tears fill my eyes as I continue coughing.

  “Oh, come on now, honey,” Effie says, ignoring my discomfort. “There’s no need to be embarrassed. We’re all friends here.”

  I reach desperately for my glass and swallow a few mouthfuls of beer. By the time I pull it away from my mouth, I’m gasping for breath, but the coughing has stopped. “I’m not sure it’s really any of your business,” I tell her, still gasping.

  Effie grins. That damn lipstick stain is so distracting. “Well, see, that’s where you’re wrong.”

  I don’t particularly like the way she says that. “What do you mean?”

  “We’re a small town,” Effie says, leaning forward conspiratorially. “News travels fast around here. Now, what you do in your own home is your own business, but word is you have a wife and a brat. Let’s face it; Shannon’s ex-boyfriend left a bad taste in all our mouths. She’s a pretty little thing, but not exactly the brightest crayon in the box, if you know what I mean.”

  If this were a cartoon, steam would be coming out of my ears, I’m that angry. I slowly rise from the table, being careful to keep my voice low as I lean over it, looking her straight in the eye. “Listen,” I start, enjoying a brief moment of satisfaction as she recoils from my venomous look. “You’re right. What I do in my own home is my own business. My personal life is just that - personal. So I’ll thank you to stay out of it.”

  “Well,” Effie sputters indignantly, getting clumsily to her feet. “There’s no need to be rude about it. Just remember, it’s not just your reputation at stake here. Maybe you should ask Shannon about her father.” I watch as she makes her way out of the bar, my hands clenched into fists by my sides.

  “Are you okay?” Keets asks, magically appearing next to me, a new beer in his hand. I gratefully accept it and take a long swallow before I speak. “Is she always like that?” I ask, slowly sitting back down, shaking my head in amazement.

  “Pretty much.” Keets laughs, sitting backwards on the seat opposite me, leaning his forearms on the back of the chair. “How’s Shannon feeling?”

  I groan and swallow another mouthful of beer before placing the glass down on the table. “I don’t know,” I state, my brow creasing. “I can only assume she wasn’t exactly pleased by the situation.”

  “I can’t say I’m surprised,” Keets says with a grin, picking my beer up and swallowing a mouthful. I wait for him to place it back on the table, but it remains in his hand as he sits there staring at the wall behind me, seemingly deep in thought.

  “What?” I grumble, staring at my beer. My fingers itch to snatch it back, and I curl them into my hand hard enough to feel the nails pierce the skin of my palm.

  “I need to ask you something, but you have to promise not to get upset or hit me.”

  I raise my eyebrows, a small smile appearing on my face. “Go on.”

  “Why didn’t you sign the divorce papers?”

  I let out a loud sigh and slump against the table, resting on my forearms. “I don’t know,” I admit. “I wish I did, but . . .”

  “But?” Keets prompts.

  “I guess I was just so angry that I wasn’t thinking clearly at the time. I kept telling myself it wasn’t true, that my wife wouldn’t leave me just for trying to keep my country safe . . . for trying to keep her safe.” I swallow past a sudden lump in my throat, and Keets finally hands back my beer. I gulp a mouthful and put the glass down on the table, clearing my throat.

  “I guess she didn’t see it that way. I tore the divorce papers up and promised myself I’d work on my marriage when I got home.

  “And you never saw her again, until yesterday,” Keets says.

  “Until yesterday,” I repeat miserably, lifting my glass once more, draining the last of the beer.

  “So, what are you going to do now?”

  I let out a whoosh of air between my teeth. “I wish I fucking knew. But I’ll start with another beer.”

  “Well,” Keets says, standing up and turning the chair around, tucking it back in under the table. “I don’t know what to tell you about Shannon, but I do know that another beer won’t make the issue go away.”

  “Keets,” I warn with a low growl. “Don’t start.” I’m not in the mood for his shit.

  “Look.” He presses his palms flat against the table top as he leans over it to glare down at me. “All I’m saying is don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

  I nod mutely at him.

  “Good.” Keets smiles, pushing himself away from the table. “I’ll go get you that beer.”

  I smile weakly and watch him walk away. I know he’s right, of course. Getting drunk will solve nothing. But at least it’ll help me forget . . . for a while.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Ruth asks for the hundredth time.

  We’re sitting in the living room of Stone’s house after she found and helped me. I don’t think I’ll ever understand how hilarious it must have been for her to walk in and find me face-down on the carpet. At least I managed to hold back wetting myself before she arrived.

  “Yes,” I grin, lifting the mug of tea she’d made me to my lips. It’s sweet and hot, just the way I like it. I make a small sound of satisfaction as I close my eyes and savor it.

  “You’re sure?” Ruth repeats, hovering around like a mother hen.

  I sigh as I open my eyes and put the cup down on the coffee table. “I’m fine,” I promise her.

  Ruth stares around the living room, a grim look on her pretty face. “How can someone stand to live like this?” She asks.

  “I don’t know,” I reply, shaking my head. I glance up as the front door opens and Zeke walks in. He seems surprised to see us.

  “Zeke,” Ruth calls him over. I hold my breath as he looks back and forth between the two of us. He hasn’t spoken a word to anyone since Grace left. My heart aches for him; I know all too well what it’s like to say goodbye to a parent for the last time. He finally sits on the opposite couch, and I let the trapped air out of my lungs in a rushed whoosh. It’s a small step.

  “Would you like some tea?” I ask gently. He shakes his head.

  “Tea?” Ruth laughs. “What are you, seventy?” To Zeke, “There’s a can of Coke in the fridge with your name on it, sugar.” She smiles.

  He gives her a small smile and slips off the couch, disappearing into the kitchen. He returns a moment later with a cold can and sits back on the edge of the couch, his head downcast, eyes hidden from view. Ruth and I glance at one another, clearly thinking the same thing. How the hell are we going to get through to this kid?

  “Seen any good movies lately, Zeke?” I ask desperately, waiting for some kind of acknowledgement that he even heard my question. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. I sigh in frustration and rake a hand through my hair as I hear a car pull up outside. I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s late.; it must be Stone. I jump as the door slams open, hitting the wall behind it with force. A figure fills the doorway and immediately stumbles, falling against the door. Stone.

  Ruth jumps to her feet and hurries to his side, trying to help him, but he pushes her away and looks over at me, a slow grin curling one side of his lips up into a sneer. A half-empty beer bottle hangs from his fingertips as he stretches out a hand to me. I can smell the alcohol from where I sit on the couch, and I wrinkle my nose in disgust. “Hey, kitten,” he says in a low voice.

  I flinch at the nickname, taking slow, deep breaths. He’s drunk, I remind myself. He
doesn’t know what he’s saying.

  Poor Zeke is sitting as still as a statue on the couch opposite me. I want to reach out my hand and comfort him, but I’m still stuck because of this damn bandaged leg.

  “Jesus, Stone,” Ruth says, wrapping his arm across her shoulders as she leads him to the couch and helps him sit. “How much have you had to drink?”

  “I dunno,” he slurs, glancing at Zeke. “He spoken yet?”

  “Not yet,” I respond quietly.

  “Kid needs to talk eventually,” he says, sitting up and leaning unsteadily toward Zeke. “Oi, kid, you gonna talk to me?”

  Zeke jumps to his feet and races into his bedroom, slamming the door shut. I can’t believe Stone just did that. Is he fucking crazy? He sees me looking at him, my eyes wide.

  “What?” he asks. Is he kidding? Does he seriously think he’s done nothing wrong?

  “Don’t you think you were a little too harsh?” I snap.

  “He’s my kid,” Stone says in a low voice. “Mind your own damn business.”

  “Stone!” Ruth gasps, her mouth hanging open in shock. “How dare you talk to Shannon that way. She’s only trying to help.”

  “No,” I start, struggling to my feet as I grab the crutches that lie on the floor. I still haven’t learned how to use them yet, and I have to brace myself on the arm of the chair as I prop them up under my arms. “He’s right,” I continue with a weak smile as I finally get my bearings. “It’s none of my business. If you call me a cab, I’ll be out of your way.”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Stone says sullenly, not looking at me.

  I can feel the blood draining from my face. “Wh-what?” I gasp, suddenly very short of breath.

  “You heard me,” he replies, raising his eyes to me as he swallows a mouthful of his beer. “You’re here until that leg is better.”