Destructive Choices

by L. U. Ann

  "That would be nice." I smile back as I think how cool this guy is, and then reprimand myself at the same time. Lacey, you are one gigantic dumbass. Yeah, I know I couldn't predict my future, but damn, he's so sweet. Then again, Caine was sweet too. How can I know that Devon won't behave the same way? I don't. So, I need to swear off guys and concentrate on my sweet pea. That's it. My one and only focus from now on is Evan!

  I watch Devon turn the corner out of my room, and as he walks past my window, he stops, almost as if sensing my eyes on him. He lifts his hand and waves. I smile and wave back.

  I sigh at his beautiful smile. Abso-freaking-lutely cruel how karma works, but I must thank my lucky stars. Devon was so sweet the night I met him. He was deliciously hot and respected my boundaries. I can remember it as though it were yesterday how my body sparked beneath his touch. I cannot believe I've found him again.

  "Lacey, wake your ass up!"

  I open my eyes to find Becca standing over me with her eyebrows drawn together.

  "What the hell is wrong with you? You've been having these shit dreams since the accident. I need to speak to your doctor because he doesn't know what the fuck he's doing. Your head, Love, is messed up." Becca pauses, adds, "More than it was before," and then winks.

  I stare into space, wondering when Dad was arrested. I don't remember any of that, so why would I dream it?

  "What time is it?" I ask, looking around the room. Becca sits back down in the reclining chair that Mom had the nurses bring in a week ago. Mom had said that the least the hospital can do is make my visitors comfortable, since they are here so much eating their nasty food. Actually, I think Becca added that last part. An hour or two later, Mom had a comfortable chair. Now everyone fights to sit in it.

  She looks down at her wrist and says, “I’d say it’s half-past Devon time.”

  “What?” I don’t understand.

  “You asked me what? Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?" she asks with her hand on her hip. "I'm not that dumb. I don't know how or when, but I know you've had a new visitor.”

  “How?” I ask. Her knowledge of all the things that I don’t talk about confuses me.

  Her eyes move to the table next to my bed, and mine follow.

  OH. MY. “What’s that?"

  “I may only be a few digits from a perfect IQ, but that, my love, is a vase of pink roses.” She gets up to move them to the table in front of me.

  Pink roses? “Who?” Crap, can I utter a complete sentence?

  “Here’s the note.” Becca hands me a small envelope that’s never been sealed.

  The card reads:

  Lacey,

  The pink rose is often thought to symbolize admiration, but it also has the meanings of appreciation and joyfulness. While I’ve admired you since the night I first laid eyes on you, the rest is what I feel now that I have the opportunity to see you again. Until tonight.

  Devon

  Well, holy shit! He did not merely send me flowers. My heart is fluttering in anticipation. I look up at Becca, who is breaking out into a giant grin.

  “How many are there?” I ask her.

  “A half dozen, Love. I would say someone has an admirer. And why the hell am I finding this out by witnessing flowers delivered instead of my bestie telling me with her own big fat mouth? I come visit this afternoon and there are flowers... from Devon? When did you see Devon again? This is Devon... Your Devon from the club, right? Holy shit, Lacey! When you go, you go big.” She finally takes a breath and crosses her arms in front of her.

  “Can I talk now?”

  She waves as if I have the floor, and then returns her arm to her chest.

  “Don’t be mad. I haven't had the chance to tell you. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours. You and my mom left, and soon after, Devon walked in unsure if I was that girl he met last year. He said my hair caught his attention.”

  “Yes, it did.”

  Becca turns around, and we both discover whom the voice belongs to.

  “I see you got them,” he avows.

  “They’re beautiful. Thank you, but–”

  Devon puts his finger up to his lips. “I wanted to. This room is dreary and needed a little color other than yellow.”

  I think my jaw just dropped. Does he realize how hideous this room looks, too? Why can no one else see it?

  “Something smells good,” Becca chimes in.

  “Devon, you remember Becca?" My eyes travel. "Becca?”

  “Yes, it’s nice to see you again, Devon.” Becca shakes his hand.

  “You, too. I brought some treats, figured you’re tired of the cafeteria food. I finished practice a little early today, and I don’t need to worry about leaving.”

  “Were you late last night?”

  He shakes his head no.

  “What’s your number?” I ask.

  His face lights up in a sweet grin at the interest in his sport. “I’m number 11. Why do you ask that? Are you planning on coming out to one of my games?” His shy smile shows his slight embarrassment.

  And we begin that friendship that could have started almost a year ago. It feels really nice.

  Chapter Three and a Half

  "Lacey." Lane walks into my room. "Lacey, why are you crying?" she asks.

  But I can't tell. I can't tell what he did. She loves him and will hate me. I was a bad, bad girl.

  "Lacey, are you hurt?"

  I shake my head. I wipe my nose and sniff. "I'm fine." I continue to wipe my face. It feels gross, and I can't stand it. I wipe my face to try to get it off of me, and it's not working. I cry and rub my arms. I can't stand my body. It sickens me. He's all over me, and I need him off. I jump up, rubbing my legs and arms. He's not off of me. I can still feel him. I can still smell him, and I cry harder.

  "Lacey, do you want me to call Mommy?"

  I shake my head and run to the bathroom. My chest is tight, and I can barely breathe. I need to get him off of me. I barely close the door before I throw up. A little relief fills the empty crevices that held disgusting thoughts just moments ago.

  I still can't breathe right. I need air, but first, I need to scrub my body. I can't have him on me anymore. I can't. I want to go back in time and help Grandpa with the chicken coop. I don't want to be inside. Alone. Alone with him. I need… I need...

  "Good morning," Mom says in a singsong voice as she enters the room, her arms filled with goodies. Most likely, it’s goodies that I don’t need, considering I’m not moving around like I used to.

  Today is a good day, because after the doctor evaluated my progress over the last week, he feels he's making the right decision to move me to rehab on Monday. That's right, in days! Two days and I will be out of here with my little man in my arms. I. Cannot. Wait!

  "Guess what Mom?!" I say cheerfully, probably scaring her into a coronary. She has no idea the doctors have made their rounds yet. For some reason, they were earlier than normal. Mom will probably be bummed she missed it. I don't think she's missed one of my progress reports. She pauses, places some treats on my bedside table, and looks up with a questioning grin. She can tell I'm happier than usual.

  "The doctors were already in," I begin, and disappointment unveils on her face. "It's okay, Mom. No, it's great, actually. They think I am definitely on the right road with my recovery and are certain I can move to rehab on Monday. Isn't that wonderful news? I cannot wait to see Evan. He can go into the center, can't he?" I nervously await Mom's answer.

  "Oh, Honey, that's fantastic news. I have been praying for the day you are reunited with him.” She moves beside the bed. “I am pretty sure he can see you while you are there.” Mom pulls away, placing her hands on her hips while she gives me a pointed look. “You better not be getting any ideas of Lane, Becca, or me spending the night in rehab so that Evan can stay, too. Rehab is for you. You need to heal."

  I roll my eyes. I don't want it to be about me. As if I would ever ask anyone to do that. Okay, in all fairness, yes, I would do something
like that. I wonder if douche bag would be willing to stay so I can have a night with Evan. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you, Lacey? Have you lost your noodle? I cannot believe you just had that irrational thought. Fuuuuck! I must have something more wrong with me than I originally thought. I don’t want him here or anywhere near me, or Evan, for that matter. Now that there's a bitter taste in my mouth, I need to forget him because he is not going to rain on this wonderful news. Two days, you can do that. Two days. Forty-eight hours. Two-thousand, eight hundred eighty minutes. One hundred-seventy-two thousand, eight hundred seconds. I could start counting now.

  "Lacey?" Mom calls. "I'm almost afraid to ask what is going on inside that head of yours. Should I be worried?"

  "Oh my gosh, Mom, it’s been so long. I'm just excited to see my little man."

  "Remember, you will need time to get transferred and settled. Let's not become dead set on two days. You may have to wait an extra day."

  An extra day? Another day? One more freaking day to wait? I feel like that's all I've been doing. Really?!

  "Knock-knock," Doctor Crane says, walking into the room, "How are you this morning, ladies?"

  "I was great," I answer in an irritated tone. I'm sulking and want the bed to swallow me up whole.

  "Uh, is everything all right in here?" she asks nervously, looking between Mom and me. Today, she’s wearing a black pencil skirt and white blouse under her lab coat. Will someone please tell her to stop wearing heels? She’s tall enough!

  Silence… hmm… you know… that uncomfortable silence that makes you think people are staring at you. The kind that makes you second-guess whether or not you pulled your zipper up in the restroom. Or, God forbid, the kind that makes you wonder if you’re trailing tissue on your foot. Yes, that’s the kind of silence I’m sensing, and then it dawns on me that she asked me a question. With a flushed face, I try to remember what it was she asked.

  "Um… Oh, yeah, all’s fine in the beautiful world of…” My eyes travel over my not so beautiful surroundings, and it’s a lost cause. “I was just getting my hopes up about seeing Evan on Monday, that's all." I grumble and huff, fidgeting with the sheet and blanket.

  "Good, I hope you do get a chance to see him. That will be awesome," she says, with big smiling eyes and a giddiness that shakes her upper body in excitement. "How do you feel after our talk yesterday?"

  Shrugging, I reply, "Good." I give Mom an apologetic look for how ridiculous I’m acting.

  "Lacey." Doctor Crane tilts her head to the side, putting me under her microscope. Well, not really. "Would you like your mom to sit this one out?"

  Shaking my head, I say, "No, it's fine. I was just thinking…"

  "What's on your mind?" she asks, adjusting the stereotypical rolling doctor chair next to my bedside, while Mom settles in her comfy chair.

  I shrug and sigh. I know, mature, right? Oh well. “I'm having a hard time moving past the ‘one more day’ and is that going to turn into one more day after that? When do these one more days end?”

  “It is completely understandable to feel anxious to see your son. Your strength is incredible, young lady. It’s also natural to feel an overwhelming sense of guilt and concern for losing valuable time with Evan. But a mother's bond is strong. After all, you carried him for nine months. I have every faith you and Evan will move past this and possibly build an even stronger bond because of it.”

  Doctor Crane’s words give me a spark of confidence. Great, now I feel guilty for thinking of her as a bird.

  “Let’s move on and talk about those dreams you mentioned yesterday. You said one was of your father being arrested?" She looks up from her notes.

  Damn, where the hell did she get those? I don't remember her taking notes.

  “Okay, uhm… yeah.”

  Doctor Crane turns to Mom. “Mrs. Edwards, could you tell Lacey if that was a dream from her past, and if it is, can you explain what happened? Dreams have been studied for many, many years. Sigmund Freud believed dreams are our unconscious desires. Other theories have suggested dreams are merely hallucinations, an opportunity to clean up the mind, and after all the studies and research, we still don’t have a definitive answer as to what our dreams mean. It piques my interest to hear someone's dreams, and then to see if it’s based on something that has happened or if it's something someone wishes."

  Mom quickly speaks up. "Lacey, Sweetheart. I've never spoken to you about any of this, have I?"

  I quickly shake my head no.

  "I'm so sorry. I never in a million years wanted you and Lane to know what went on between your father and me." She looks down at her manicured hands. "Your father and I weren’t the happy couple we tried to make everyone believe.” She shifts uncomfortably in her chair, looking uneasy. “I was seventeen years old when I married your father. Honey, please understand I was anxious to leave home. Always having to take on the role of mom for Grandma because she was too sick to care for your aunt and uncle wore me down. I wanted to live life like all of my other friends. I'm so sorry I didn't leave when I knew it wouldn't be safe to stay. I don’t know why I felt the need to stay with your father, maybe to protect others from his behavior. He is a ruthless man."

  Aw, fuck! Having a child has helped clean up my dirty mouth, but this is all kinds of fucked up bullshit. I may already know the answer to this, but being the glutton for punishment that I am, I’m going to ask anyway. "Mom, I had a dream where the police come to the house to arrest Dad. I remember being so scared. I didn't want to leave you. Was it a dream?" Cautiously, I cross my fingers. Please God, let it be a nightmare and not our reality. Closing my eyes to hide the tears beginning to well up, I silently continue to beg God for it to be a dream.

  "No.” Mom looks away as if feeling guilty, and my hope is crushed.

  The past few years, Dad hasn’t been around much, but when I was younger, he was my daddy, my hero. Every little girl dreams of marrying her prince charming, and what did I do? I picked a man just like my father.

  “It’s not a dream, Sweetheart. Your father was arrested."

  "Wha… what was he arrested for?" I nervously ask.

  Mom is looking up at the ceiling, blinking quickly to hide her tears. She takes a moment before finally getting the courage to continue.

  "Honey, I never wanted you to know this. I'm ashamed for so many reasons. Your father was arrested because my daddy pressed charges against him."

  Shocked, I scrunch my eyebrows, feeling the color leach from my skin as the blood rushes south. "Grandpa? Why would Grandpa press charges?" I can only shake my head in disbelief and total confusion about what is going on. I don’t know if I want to know anymore. I’m much happier with my head in the sand. Then again, my life wouldn’t have taken so many twists and turns if I had stopped and confronted my problems rather than run from them.

  "Grandpa pressed charges,” she throws her head down into her hands and continues, “because during the time Uncle Tony lived with us, your father did things… did things to him that were… wrong." Mom slides her hands down her face, keeping her eyes trained on the floor. The pain weighing on her shoulders is evident. She can't even look up right now; most likely, she’s scared she’ll lose the nerve to continue.

  "What do you mean? What did Dad do to Uncle Tony?” My voice is a little louder than expected. “Did he hit him or something?" Why press charges if he hit him? Mom and Dad spanked me many times. I don’t understand the need to involve the legal system.

  Mom pauses to take a deep breath, postponing her reply as long as possible. I’m scared to think what it is he did if she’s this upset. "I wish that were the case, Lacey. Lord knows, I wish that's all it was." Her eyes move up, fixating on mine. "No, it's much worse than that Sweetie. Yes, your father abused Uncle Tony, but not the way you're thinking." She stops again, returning her focus to the floor. "Your father sexually abused your Uncle."

  My stomach drops, and I immediately feel as if I’m going to be sick.

  "Where's Eva
n?" I start to panic, throwing the blanket back with trembling hands, moving with all my might, working legs or not, but Mom and Doctor Crane hold me down. "Stop, I need to go get my baby," I plead with everything I have through tears and terror.

  "Lacey!" Mom’s shout commands me to ease up my fight. "He's safe with Lane. I have done everything in my power to protect Evan from him. Remember when Caine came to visit you earlier this week, and said he dropped Evan off at the house with your dad?”

  I nod, remembering.

  “I nearly had a heart attack. I raced home because I made a promise to Evan that I would protect him from his grandfather and anyone else who tried to harm him."

  "Mrs. Edwards, did your husband go to jail?" Doctor Crane asks, piquing my interest as well.

  "No, my daddy dropped the charges because he didn't want my girls to grow up without a father." Mom sighs, and sits back down, embarrassed.

  "I would like to ask why you stayed with your husband. It seems to me you have an unhealthy relationship." Doctor Crane asks the very question I want answered.

  "To have an unhealthy relationship, you first have to have one. We don't. I’ve gone through life looking through rose-colored glasses. If you only knew the half of it. My reasons and my biggest regret for staying with my husband are because of Lane and Lacey," she says more to Doctor Crane than me.

  Turning to face me, she says, "Honey, I know this has to hurt you. I have nothing but disdain and hatred for the man. If I left him, if we left, where would we go? How could I provide for you and Lane? I didn't know what else to do, Sweetheart. Please, forgive me." Mom implores, trying to calm her shaking hands.

  "Lacey, I know you must think I'm a horrible person for staying with your father. I am so sorry. I also felt a need to protect people from your father. If I stayed, I could keep an eye on him. Since it was my daddy who dropped the charges, I felt a greater sense of responsibility. I'm only staying with him to protect others out there. There is nothing, no love between us. I promise you that much. I try my hardest to put up a happy facade around others, but please know I'll never forgive your father. Never!"