Alana
AS I OPEN the door to my old home, I set the white packet of Charles’ medication on the counter and walk to the living room. Charles sits in his brown leather recliner, watching a Western movie. He wheezes and turns to look at me. “Thank you. Is Darien okay with you running errands for me?” he asks, as he grabs the remote and turns the volume down.
“Why does it matter?”
I don’t know what is going on between Darien and me. When we had sex this morning, his eyes were lifeless, cold and distant. At breakfast, he only uttered a few words, telling me he would be late again coming home. I understand how he feels because if it were the other way around, I would be pissed. I feel like a cheater. I spend the day with Charles, and at night I come home to Darien. Charles doesn’t have anyone else though. His grandmother has osteoporosis, and she can barely move around. That’s my excuse I tell myself. Deep down I want to be there for him, even though I want to hate his guts.
Charles frowns and turns his view back to the screen. As I make my way to the hallway to grab a blanket from the hall closet, pictures hang on the eggshell wall. I peer at one picture of me in the hospital holding Cole—he was only a day old. Those brown eyes and black straight hair. Haven’t seen this picture in years. I move onto another picture of me on my eighteenth birthday. Charles bought me a stack of comic books and a diamond necklace. He has old pictures of us going to prom. I wore a long purple gown, and he wore a tux with a purple tie. Then I move on to our wedding day—we got married at the courthouse.
With the gray blanket in my hand, I walk back to the living room. My throat is thick with emotions.
“Why do you have those pictures up?” I wrap the blanket over his body and settle on the brown leather couch next to him.
“When I die, I want to be surrounded with people I love. What I did to you wasn’t called for, but I was only trying to make the right choice. I didn’t want to fail the baby like I failed Cole.”
Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I don’t know what to say. “I have to go. Darien is waiting for me,” I say, needing to get away from him. He tugs on my arm so I won’t leave.
“If I could take back what I did to you, I would. I’m sorry I blamed you for Cole’s death.” He rubs the back of his neck.
“Plea—”
“Shut up and let me apologize to you.” He grabs my hand and kisses it. “I’m so sorry, sweet pea. Failed you as a husband.” Emotions are packed in his words. I cry ugly tears. He wipes them with the pad of his thumb. “After his death, we never talked about it, and I abandoned you when you needed me, and I’m sorry.” He pulls me into his arms and strokes my hair.
“I’m sorry too,” I say, rubbing my nose. “Sorry that I disconnected from you when you needed me the most. Made you feel like you didn’t lose him. I pushed you into Rebecca’s arms. I neglected you.”
“Yeah, but I shouldn’t have cheated. I broke us.”
“We were already broken before you cheated.”
He doesn’t respond, but squeezes me tighter.
Before leaving Charles, I made his favorite shrimp tacos and I made sure his pain medication and orange juice sat on the table next to his recliner. Now I soak in the white tub and pour lavender body wash in the water, hoping to soak off my emotions. I take the washcloth, dab soap on it and scrub my feet. I’m not bitter and angry towards Charles like I was before. I’m at peace about our relationship. I don’t love him in the way that I love Darien. Charles’ apology makes me realize he is not the same teenage boy I fell in love with. We’ve both grown from the poor decisions we made.
I scrub my stomach and my arms and take the chrome shower head and spray my body. The water tickles my skin. I drape the rag over the rail as I let warm tears drip down my cheeks. Wish Darien was here to hold me. Gosh, I love him to the moon and back. Love him to the point where I can’t see my life without him. I used to hate love. But now, I love love. It makes me feel safe, makes me feel high like a drug. Darien’s love is a drug I want to snort up my nose like cocaine. Want to roll it in a blunt and inhale it in my lungs. The more I get a hit of him, the stronger I crave him. Never craved anyone in my life, not even Charles. I guess that is the reason why I don’t have a hard time letting Charles go, because I found my happiness.
Darien leans in the arch of the doorway and looks like he has a ton of weight on his shoulders.
“I love you,” I blurt out because I do. I love Darien more than life itself.
“You love Charles, too.” He says it like it’s acid burning his tongue.
“I don’t love him the way I love you,” I answer truthfully.
“Alana, I’m not gonna make you choose between a dying man and me. And it fucking kills me that you are taking care of him. I saw you crying in the shower the other night and yo—”
“Shut up, Darien Casey,” I yell. “Just shut the fuck up.” Tears fall and my heart beats fast. I know where this conversation is going and my heart is shattering, cracking piece by piece. He is breaking up with me.
I stand up from the tub, pulling the plug, and the water drains. I almost trip and fall getting out of the tub. Grabbing a clean towel from the shelf, I wrap it around my body.
I take the hair straighteners, makeup bag, and everything on the counter and toss it at the wall, wanting to toss it at his head. The stuff clinks against the tiles. I feel trapped in my own skin and too fucking torn. Darien wraps his arms around me and I cry. He kisses my forehead, a kiss goodbye. I feel his tears trickle on my forehead—silent tears. He scoops me into his arms like a bride. My body wets his black suit as he carries me to the bed. He pushes my hair out of my face and tilts my chin and his lips press against mine.
“You’re not leaving me. Please don’t leave me.” My voice is thick.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but it’s for the best,” he whispers in my ear.
He slides me on his lap and rocks me until I’m all cried out and asleep.
Wish I can say that my days are getting better, but they are getting worse. I move on autopilot on most days, and when I don’t have the energy to move, I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. Gunner gave me my two-week vacation—he knows that Darien and I broke up and he knows about Charles, so he is giving me space. I turn on Netflix, binge on Attack on Titan and eat chocolate ice cream until my stomach hurts. I keep my phone off. Just want to hide from the world. It’s safe here, no one here to hurt me.
Soft knocks at the door and I turn the television up. Crystal moved out two weeks ago. She and Clarence moved in together, and they are preparing for the birth of Ariel.
The doorknob jiggles, and Ron and Crystal walk in. Her stomach is round like a basketball, and her tits are three times bigger than the last time I saw her. Ron sits on the couch next to me. Crystal hits the light switch.
“You look like shit, Alana,” Crystal says.
“Why the hell haven’t you been to work, baby girl?” Ron rests his arm on the back of the couch.
I shake my head as tears come down my cheeks. “D-Darien broke up with me.” Hate saying it out loud. It makes it real.
“Is it because of Charles?” Crystal pipes in.
I nod my head. Haven’t been by to see Charles. He is the reason why Darien and I are not together. Hate him for it. He’s always fucking shit up in my life.
“Darien knows I still love Charles. And he doesn’t want me to choose between him and Charles.” I pull my legs to my chest, wrapping my arms around myself, resting my chin on my knees. “I wasn’t going to choose Charles over him. I love Darien. But I can’t leave Charles by himself. He is dying, and he doesn’t have anyone to look after him.”
“Darien is scared, Alana, he will come around.” Ron strokes my cheek. “He doesn’t want to compete with a dying guy.”
“There is no competition,” I yell.
“As long as Charles is in your life, baby girl, in Darien’s mind he is,” Ron murmurs.
“If I wasn’t fat as a whale, I’d key his car.” Crystal rests her arms on her belly. “Men are stupid. No offense, Ron.”
He throws his hands in the air and says, “None taken.”
“Tell me some good news,” I murmur.
I’m sick of hearing bad shit, trouble shit, and sorrow shit.
“Well, my mom’s MS is getting better. She’s not urinating on herself as often, and the doctors switched drugs. And my dad is happy that he is having his first grandchild.”
“That’s good.” I turn to Ron. “What about you?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “A hot cop pulled me over, and I got off with a warning for speeding.”
“You know what we need?” Crystal says. “A girls’ night out.”
“No,” I groan.
“Yes, we can get pedis and go to the club.”
“That is exactly what we need.” Ron nods in agreement.
“No,” I pipe in again.
“You need to get out.” She leans in and takes a whiff. “When was the last time you bathed?” She waves her hand in her face. “You stink.”
Shrugging my shoulders, I say, “It’s been a few days.”
Crystal and Ron grab me by the arms, pulling me off the couch, dragging me to the bathroom. I kick and try to pull away, but they’re a lot stronger.
“Get a bath and get dressed. You are getting out of this slump, and we are going to have fun. No more wallowing in your shit,” Crystal says before shutting the door.
“All right! I’ll go,” I yell, turning on the faucet.