CHAPTER TWO
ADAM
The pounding in my head had taken on a life of its own, and I shot straight up in bed covered in a cold sweat. I had a feeling it wouldn’t matter. I would probably relive that day that altered my life irrevocably every night for the rest of my life. The only thing that helped with the nightmares was the alcohol and even then, some nights the dreams filtered in through the haze. Something smelled and it didn’t take long for me to realize that something was me. The booze that I drank the night before was seeping out of my pores. Thankfully, before I cracked open the bottle of Jack, I’d prepped by grabbing extra water and aspirin.
Looking around, I found where I had thrown my prosthetic leg the night before and I attached it before stumbling to the bathroom. It seemed strange to me to put the prosthetic on just so I could take it off again, but I had learned that when it came to showering all prosthetics were not created equal, and it was just good practice to keep the leg clean. Since sweating liquor from my pores was probably not a great way to do that, I got in the shower. It had been a year since the IED blew my leg off; I wasn’t sure I would ever get over the loss of it. There had been a couple times I had gotten up in the middle of the night after a binge and forgot it wasn’t there.
After the shower, I dried myself thoroughly and reattached my leg and went to get dressed, turning on the TV as I went. There was breaking news about some pile up on I-10 and I tuned it out as I grabbed clothes from the clean pile on my dresser. I didn’t see a point in folding clothes that were just going to end up wadded in a pile on my floor anyway.
I went about my business until something on the TV caught my attention.
“They have identified the couple who was killed in this morning’s crash as William and Bethany Byrd of Pasadena.” The newscaster said into the camera with no inflection in her tone. I dropped the clothes I was getting ready to put on and flopped on the bed. What the fuck?
Will and Bethany are dead? That couldn’t be. I spoke to Will the night before. We were supposed to have dinner that night. It was the only reason I hadn’t picked up the bottle the second I woke up. I grabbed my cell phone and dialed his number, hoping it was all some horrible mistake, but it went to voicemail. I dial Beth next, but got the same result. Where are the kids? I wondered. The only time they didn’t have at least one of the kids with them was when they were at school. Just as I picked up the phone to call the police, there was a knock on my door.
The LAPD.
It hadn’t been a mistake. Fuck! My chest felt like it was caving in on me as I walked out of my little studio apartment in a daze, along with two officers with him. I honestly couldn’t tell you if I had shut or even locked the door.
The drive to the hospital was a blur, but I got there in less than fifteen minutes, absently noting that following police as they hauled ass down the highway, lights flashing would have normally been a memorable experience, but sadly this was not the memory I wanted to have.
I parked in the pick-up and drop off area and jogged the best I could into the hospital. It was difficult to run at any speed but I wasn’t thinking about that. I needed to find someone who could tell me what was going on. Someone that could tell me where the kids were, anything.
I got to the reception desk out of breath, my leg throbbing from the awkward run. “The Byrds’s family,” the one officer interjected, saving me from asking. “They were in the crash this morning. The children along with the other guardian are being brought here. Can you please tell us where the family is?”
“Yes officer, please follow me, though the family is not here yet.” The receptionist led us down various hallways, until we arrived at an office door.
All the air was sucked out of my lungs when I saw her. Even knowing the receptionist mentioned co-guardian, I had completely forgotten that she would be there. Her red hair was pulled back in a slick bun and she was wearing a business suit with her shapely legs sticking out of a tight pencil skirt. What gutted me about seeing the former love of my life were the tear tracks down her cheeks. I rushed to her.
“They’re gone, Adam.” She sobbed, clutching my shoulders in an unbreakable hold. “What are we gonna tell the kids?”
“Shit, they’re really gone?” I walked us over to the couch, nodded at the police officers that we were fine, and wrapped my arm around her, needing the comfort as much for myself as for her. The back of my eyes started to burn. What the fuck is this? Marines don’t cry. I scolded myself.
“Mr. Davis,” the officer informed as he walked to the door. “The social worker will be here momentarily. Again, we are truly sorry for your loss. We will be in touch with you in a few weeks.” Not wanting to think about whatever paperwork and death certificates awaited, I absently nodded my understanding, wanting him to just leave so Kate and I could pull ourselves together before the kids arrived.
When the social worker walked in with the boys not ten minutes later, the tears that had been forming pooled in my eyes. Jaxon and Jason were my little buddies. They were twin six year olds and normally had energy to spare. There mirrored looks of confusion when they saw us instead of their parents, confirmed the fact that no one had told them what had happened.
“Uncle Adam? Where’s mommy and Daddy?” Jaxon asked.
“Come here guys,” I said and waited for them walk over slowly. They looked at us warily. The social worker silently excused herself, probably to wait on the arrival of the twins’ sisters.
“Auntie Kate? Are you okay?” Jason asked and put his little hand on her cheek. She shot him a watery smile and nodded. “Why are you crying, then?”
Each of the boys came and sat in our laps, and I did my best not wince at the pressure on my leg. I hugged Jaxon close to my chest as Kate began to talk.
“Remember when you asked mommy about heaven?” she began and they nodded, not yet understanding the implication of her question. “Remember what she said that God brought people to heaven after they died?”
The boys’ lips were starting to quiver. Their attempt at being strong waning, and I could see the tears beginning to slip from their eyes. I hugged Jaxon a little tighter and Kate did the same with Jason.
The door opened and the social worker quietly led the girls in. April, the oldest sibling, was the spitting image of her mom, Beth. She stood there in torn jeans and a tight V-neck shirt. The look on her face as she saw us sitting there cradling the boys morphed from confusion into crumpled heap of devastation. Peyton, her twelve-year-old sister was the middle child, also looked just like her mom, and I found it hard to look at them.
“Uncle Adam? What are you doing here? Where’s my mom?” Peyton asked looking around at all the grief-stricken faces. April wrapped her arm around her younger sister and whispered something in her ear. Peyton’s knees buckled and a loud sob tore from her throat. I was gutted. The tears started to flow and Jax looked up from my arms at me in horror. “Uncle Adam? Are Mommy and Daddy in heaven now?”
“Yeah buddy, they are.” Worst than the sound of the IED that plagued me every night, was the sound of utter desolation that echoed through the room.