Chasing Darien ~ J.M. Stoneback

by Stoneback, J. M

  “I hate you!” I open the glass door and warm air hits my face as I walk in.

  “I love you, too,” he mumbles under his breath.

  I stab my finger on the phone as I Google support groups online. I found one on Facebook where people tell their story about how they cope with a loved one who has brain cancer. An older woman named Beth just updated her status saying her husband died five months ago from cancer.

  Other women update regularly on how they cope with it. One lady says she takes it one day at a time. I close the app and place my phone face down on the nightstand.

  I’m pissed off at Charles, Darien, and the world. People are so fucking selfish. I’m pissed off at Charles for not taking the medication to shrink the tumor. I’m pissed off at Darien because he wants to make decisions for our relationship instead of us reaching a mutual agreement. Well, fuck him and Charles. They both can go to hell as far as I am concerned.

  I lie on the cheap mattress in the old guest room of my old house. Don’t want to go home. It reminds me too much of Darien. And this place isn’t much better either—it reminds me of horrible memories. I feel trapped like a bird in a cage, ready to be free from heartache and pain. Tired of crying. I’m so cried out that I don’t think there are any tears left in me. I pull the green blanket that smells like fabric softener to my neck. Just want to sleep off the emotions.

  There is a knock at the door, and I continue to lie there. The knock comes again, and I groan. Just want to be left alone. The door creaks and I turn on my side. Charles makes his way to the edge of the bed, and I feel the mattress dip.

  “Sweet pea?” His dull hazel eyes are intense.

  “What do you want, Charles?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “That seems to be your favorite line. ‘I’m sorry I blamed you for Cole’s death.’ ‘Sorry for cheating on you and leaving you for another woman.’ ‘I’m sorry for dying.’” I cover my mouth with my palm because the last part slipped out.

  We are both quiet, and I don’t like the tension that is building between us.

  “Why don’t you take the medication? Why give up so easily?”

  He shakes his head as if he is having his own internal battle. “You wouldn’t understand,” he murmurs.

  “Try me,” I say. He strokes the side of my cheek, and I blush.

  “I don’t want to live in a world where our son doesn’t exist and where I’m not with the love of my life.”

  My heart skips a beat. “You can always get Rebecca back,” I whisper.

  “I’m not talking about Rebecca.”

  “I know.”

  “You know how many times I wanted to call you so I could make things right. To tell you that I’m sorry for what I did and you can have me back.”

  Tension is thick between us. I cast my eyes down to the white carpet, tucking a strand behind my ear. “I love you, Charles, you were my first love, and I think I will always love you, but I love Darien.” I exhale. “That’s who I want to be with.”

  “I know.” He chokes on his words. “Is he okay with you being here?”

  I don’t want him to know about the breakup and I don’t want to talk about it. Sitting up on the bed, I press my feet to the wool carpet.

  “He’s dealing,” I lie.

  “You’re lying,” he deadpans.

  “I’m n—” He gives me that you’re-full-of-shit look and I shake my head. “We broke up.”

  “Why? Does it have something to do with me?”

  “It doesn’t matter. You need me, and I’m going to be here until you . . .” I swallow hard, not able to say the word.

  “Die,” he finishes for me.

  I nod my head, not meeting his eyes.

  “Promise me something.” Charles tilts my chin to meet his eyes.

  “What?”

  “That after I die, you will be happy.”

  “Huh?”

  “You heard me. Be happy, live life, and cherish those you love.”

  “You sound like a Hallmark card.”

  “I’m serious, sweet pea.”

  “Fine. I promise.”

  He pulls me into his arms, kisses my hair, and says, “That’s my girl.”

  Darien

  THIS IS ONE of the shittiest weeks I’ve had in a long time. Can’t even think straight as John goes over the policies of his bank. This shit is boring.

  All I do is think about Alana, want to call her, but I don’t. I’m giving her time and space. She still has her stuff at my condo, and that picture she drew on my walls keeps staring at me, so I’m staying in a hotel until I’m ready to get rid of the artwork. Even my bedroom smells like her—Chanel No. 5.

  Lisa calls my office and I put my finger up to stop John from talking, placing the phone to my ear. “Yeah, Lisa?”

  “Charles Tucker is here to see you,” Lisa says.

  Raising an eyebrow, I say, “I don’t know a Charles Tucker.”

  “He says he knows you and wants to talk to you about Alana.”

  I tell John to hold on, and I walk out to the lobby. A guy there is wearing black pants and a plaid shirt. He is pale, and his hazel eyes look dull. We stare at each other for a minute. This is the lowlife that Alana married. Hate that she is taking care of him. I talked to Gunner, and he told me that Charles doesn’t have anyone to take of him. My Alana has a heart pure as gold. I want to punch him in the face for how he treated Red.

  “Is Alana okay?” I ask, shoving my hands in the pockets of my black slacks.

  “Yes, physically.”

  I show him to my office and tell John to give me thirty minutes. The old guy walks out of the office.

  “This your office?” Charles glances around and picks up a picture of Alana sleeping on my bed on the yacht. I miss my sweetheart.

  I nod my head and say, “Why are you here?”

  “Alana is depressed and the last time she got like this is when our son died. She is in denial about my death. She thinks if I take the medication, I will survive.” He wheezes and makes his way to the black leather couch. “Wanted to meet the guy who got my girl’s heart. Not gonna lie, I was jealous that she told me that she loves you.” He rests his foot on his thigh.

  His girl? Want to punch his ass for saying that. “Says the guy who dumps her for another woman.” I’m pissed that he has the audacity to come in here.

  “I deserved that. I don’t have much time. I went to the doctor a few days ago, and my cancer is spreading fast. Instead of three months, it’s one month. Haven’t told Alana because she’s already worried about me.”

  I go to the cooler, grab a bottle of water and hand it to him. He struggles to turn the cap on the bottle. Rolling my eyes, I snatch the bottle from him and unscrew the lid and hand it back to him.

  “Thanks, man,” he says, before taking a gulp of water. “She told me you guys broke up, and she didn’t say why, but I gotta feeling that it’s because of me.”

  “What do you want?” I grab a fistful of hair and pull. This fucker is getting on my last nerve.

  “Take care of her when I’m gone, Darien. We share two things in common—we both love the same woman, and we hate each other’s guts—and if I weren’t sick, I’d probably kick your ass.”

  I scoff at his words. As if he would have a chance. “And if you weren’t sick, I would beat the fuck out of you for what you did to Alana. Now get the fuck out of my office.”

  I meet with Logan at a Mexican restaurant. The waitress drops off my beer, and I peel the label off of it. This year is starting off as rough as fuck. I miss Alana so fucking much. I check her Facebook every single day to see if she updates it, but she doesn’t. Want to call her, but I don’t. Instead I sulk like a little bitch. She hasn’t changed her Facebook relationship status, and I’m not going to change mine. Don’t care if she is taking care of that lowlife, she is still mine.

  The waitress with the white shirt and black tie and black pants sits on Logan’s lap. I tilt my head to the side and cock my eyeb
row.

  “You’re a dick for cheating on Trish. She doesn’t deserve this.” I take a swig of my drink.

  “We are not together anymore. I broke up with her a few months back.” Logan laughs.

  “Right,” Claire says—well, that is the name on the nametag.

  “How many times have you guys broken up?”

  “Too many. I’m not meant to be in a relationship,” he says. Claire gets up from his lap and disappears into the kitchen. Moments later, she comes back with a plate of chicken fajitas and sets it in front of Logan.

  “How do my godkids feel about that?”

  “They know that I don’t stay in the home with them anymore, but they don’t understand why.” He exhales. “She got the abortion. Told her that I will pay child support. What about you and Alana? How the hell did you get Gunner’s approval to date his sister?” He bites into his food. Claire comes back to the table and asks me if I want anything. I tell her no and she tends to the table behind us.

  “He knows I’m not gonna take advantage of his sister. I’m not the type to date casual. Might sleep around, but I’m looking for something more. But I fucking ruined that shit though.”

  The waitress brings me another beer and collects the empty bottle.

  “How?” He takes a napkin and wipes his mouth.

  “Her ex is dying.”

  “She chose him over you?”

  “No.”

  “I’m confused.” He cocks his eyebrow.

  “I broke up with her because I didn’t want her to have to choose.”

  “Wow. And now he is probably fucking her.” He pats my shoulder. “Congrats on being the biggest dumbass I know.”

  I grind my teeth at his words and say, “Doubt it.”

  “Oh, he’s tapping that. Alana is one sexy kitten.”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  “Just ’cause he is dying doesn’t mean he can’t fuck her. That’s his ex after all. They are probably reminiscing about their time together.”

  “Logan, I’m warning you.”

  “You know it’s true.”

  I grab my coat and storm out before I punch the fuck out of him. Fuck Logan. I get in my car and drive around downtown Newark. Can’t believe people are still out this late at night. Most of the businesses are closed, and the nightclubs are open, and women and men are bundled up in their coats in this harsh February cold. Green, red, and yellow light up the city like Christmas lights. Tapping my index finger on the steering wheel, I don’t know where I’m going. Just want to burn off some steam. What if Logan is right? Maybe she is fucking him. Maybe she still wants him. I need to see her, hug her and tell her that I love her.

  After driving around for about thirty minutes, I decide to go back home. I push open my door, and everything in here reminds me of Alana. The couple that she drew on the wall a while back, the scent of her shampoo, the few pairs of her shoes still on the rack. She even has her drawer here. I can still smell her shea butter dove soap from the bathroom, reminding me she was here.

  I made a stupid mistake letting that woman go. The biggest mistake of my life.

  Alana

  Two months later

  I STAND ON a white stool and hang the banner in the archway. I finally got myself out of my apartment and decided to help Crystal with her baby shower. It isn’t easy, but I’m trying to keep my sanity, that’s all that matters. Today I want to forget about my troubles and be there for Crystal and my unborn goddaughter.

  After I finish putting up the banner, I stroll to the kitchen and grab a bowl of popcorn, finger sandwiches, and sodas from the fridge and set them on the big white table. Ron and Jason move the brown couch to the wall. Crystal plays with the stereo and puts on some rock music. Her sister, Autumn, pours punch into a big glass bowl. After I finish with decorations, I step outside on the wooden red deck, inhaling and exhaling loudly. The trees whistle and the cool wind blows. I hear the door shut and Ron stands next to me with his hands shoved in his pockets.

  “What are you doing out here?” His cheeks turn beet red from the cold. He zips his brown coat up to his neck.

  “Catching some fresh air. You?” I murmur, leaning on the brick-red wood rail.

  “Just checking on you to see you are okay, baby girl.”

  “I am.”

  “How is Charles?”

  I exhale and say, “Worse. He has a hospice doctor to check on him every week.”

  He sleeps a lot more, and his pain medication isn’t working anymore. And last night he called out Cole’s name, and I told him that Cole is dead. I called his doctor this morning, and Dr. Jackson told me he is in the final stages of death, and to let him think that Cole is alive. I lay in bed with him, hugged him tight as I cried next to him. I thought I could keep it together, but I don’t know. I’m losing him day by day. It took everything in me not to leave him today, afraid that he was going to die. I shake my head and wipe the warm tears with the back of my hand. Ron pulls me into a bear hug and my tears wet his jacket. Can’t stop crying thinking about Charles.

  “I’m fine,” I whisper.

  “No, you’re not. It’s okay to fall apart.” Ron holds me tighter and I feel the vibration in his chest as he talks. I inhale the scent of his aftershave. Several moments later, I pull away and use the pad of my thumb to wipe tears from under my eyes.

  “You and Jason work things out?” I say, changing the subject.

  Ron hooked up with an old fling from college around Christmas. He said he would talk to Jason about it.

  “I told him, but he wasn’t too happy about it. He said that he wants to be exclusive.”

  “Do you?” My toes feel numb through my ankle boots.

  “I thought I did, but I don’t know what I want.”

  Autumn comes out the door and tells me that Crystal is asking for me.

  I walk into the living room, and we play a diaper game where we eat chocolate from it and we listen to music and gossip like the women on Sex and the City. I feel a little better getting out of the house and not thinking about Charles. Wish I could cry on Darien’s shoulder. Want to call him, but what is the point? He made his choice in breaking things off with me. He didn’t even give me a chance to choose between him or Charles, he already had his mind made up. Hate that I miss him like crazy, just wish he wasn’t selfish. I’m starting to think that all men are selfish—they only think about themselves.

  Alana

  April thirtieth

  I WATCH THE shiny, sleek, maple coffin lower to the ground, next to Cole’s grave site. My scalp prickles as fresh warm tears leak down my cheeks.

  “Please, don’t leave me,” I whisper between each sob. His grandma, Annie, holds my hand as she stands there leaning on her cane.

  “You were good to my grandson.” Tears run down her wrinkled face. “Thank you.”

  Gunner, Crystal, Ron, and my mom wrap their arms around me as I weep. I knew this day was coming, but you don’t know what someone truly means until they’re gone. There is no possible way I could have prepare for this type of heartache. I’m drowning in my own tears and having a hard time breathing. Harsh reality smacks me in the face, he’s gone. How do you say goodbye when your heart doesn’t want to say it? The ache in my chest is too unbearable. People pat me on the back and speak to me, but I tune them out.

  Several hours later, I’m staring at the carved gray tombstone, and I’m by myself. I pull my jacket closer to my body, my black heels buried in the muddy ground. I kiss my fingers and rub the tombstone.

  “Goodbye, Charles,” I say.

  My heels click on the wet asphalt as I walk to my car. Darien leans against my car. A custom-made black suit hugs his biceps. It should be a sin for him to be this hot. He has a beard like a caveman—it’s cute though. My heart swells and nearly leaps in my chest and those butterflies are back. I miss him so much. It’s been three months since we had a conversation. Three months since we made love. Three months without his warmth.

  “What are you
doing here?” I tilt my chin to look at him. I want to touch him, want him to wipe the tears from my face and have me once again. I long for his touch and the warmth of his body.

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” He pulls out a joint, dragging it to the corner of his mouth and lighting it. The familiar smell of weed hits my nostrils.

  “Are you really, Darien?”

  “Yeah, I don’t like to see my girl hurt.” He pulls me into a tight hug, and I try not to get tears on his shoulder.

  “You broke my heart, Darien.

  “I know. I want to make it up to you.”

  I shake my head. “It’s too late. You should have thought about that before you took the decision away from me.”

  “Alana, let me be there for you.”

  “No.”

  “Let me ask you a question.”

  I stop in my tracks. “What?”

  “Would you have chosen him over me?”

  He wants to ask me that now, after I buried Charles?

  “No. I never was gonna choose him. It was always you, Darien.” Still is. But I don’t say it.

  I get into my car and put my Range Rover in drive, pulling off onto the asphalt. I watch him in the rearview as he gets smaller and smaller.

  I listen to Charles’ favorite song, Crow and Butterfly by Shinedown, as I pack up his golf clubs. Never thought I’d say this, but I feel at peace. Feel like a burden has been lifted off my shoulders and I got to be with him in the last part of his life, and I’m thankful that he didn’t die without me saying goodbye.

  I throw dishes and plates and the rest of the kitchenware into brown boxes. Crystal pours a glass of wine and slides it across the counter to me, and I gulp it down and set it back down on the counter. I take the white tape and tear it with my teeth and place it on the box and put it by the front door. Ariel is in her bassinet, and she starts screaming, so Crystal picks her up and snuggles with her. She had her two weeks ago.