Once Upon a Present
The steam hovered above the surface of the water and evaporated from my skin like fog as I lifted my arms and rested them on the cool ceramic finish of the tub exterior. My right leg was propped along the outer edge. The cast around my calf a safe distance from getting wet. It had only been two weeks since they shackled me to this damn thing, and I was still living out the last four weeks of my sentence. Liam’s music drifted through the bathroom door. The angry, fast-paced beat did nothing to help calm my nerves.
I sighed and leaned my head against the tile and closed my eyes. There was too much to think about, and all I’d wanted to do was disappear into the heat for a little while. I didn’t want to think about my community service, my legal fees, or how distant Liam had become these past two weeks. I couldn’t dwell on how badly I’d wanted him to kiss me that day at Avenues or wonder what had stopped him from following through. Wanting him was an extra crutch I had to carry around every day. I shouldn’t stay here. I had more than enough money saved to get my own place. I was feeling better, and I got around pretty well on my own. I lifted my hand to the long raised scar on my right cheek and traced its ruined path from under my eye to my lip with my fingertip. My physical body had begun to heal, but the rest of me was gasping for air, twisted in metal, and still stuck in the front seat of my car. Staying here with Liam wasn’t a smart plan, but at least I wasn’t completely alone.
The cold air seeped back through my skin, and I lowered my arms into the water. The warmth soothed the edges of my reality for a few blissed out seconds. It didn’t take long, though, for the water to cool, or for tomorrow’s worries to find their way into my sanctuary. In the morning I’d start my first day at Lifeline Women’s Shelter. My mother’s lawyer was able to have my DUI charge lowered to reckless driving if I agreed to work at the shelter in lieu of community service. They’d lost a few employees this month and were desperate for help. I was the girl who used to be pretty and had nothing but a high school diploma and a bank account that would eventually run dry. I signed the papers and paid the fees, with nothing left to lose.
There was a small, vain part of me that mourned the loss of the lights, the flash of the camera bulbs, the smell of make-up and hair spray. I missed that quiet awe when I’d walk into the room decked out and ready for a shoot. It was disgusting, and I hoped, even though I was terrified, that working at the shelter might bring some things into perspective. I could’ve died, or worse, killed someone. Working at Lifeline was the least I could do. I was mostly nervous to be around other people. The few times I’ve had to leave the apartment, and even down in Avenues, people stared. They looked at me, their eyes lingering on the large, heavy, purple scar and something in their posture would change. Some would look away, some would pretend it wasn’t there, and others, the sadness in their eyes, I could feel it, and it was hard to take. Since the accident, Liam was the only one who didn’t fake it. His eyes were the only ones that didn’t hold pity. And I was grateful for the silent honesty.
There was a hard knock on the door and it made me jump.
“I’m thinking of ordering dinner, maybe from Jade’s. Do you want something?” Liam asked.
“Sure.”
I waited for a reply that never came and ignored the needy feeling growing in my chest just at hearing his voice. How is it possible to miss someone so much when they only live a room away? It couldn’t matter I told myself as I stood and drained the tub. I dried off and wrapped the plush white towel around my body and opened the door. After a quick peek to assure the hallway was clear, I limped into my room. I rarely moved without my crutches, but on occasion I’d risk it. Getting in and out of the tub, getting dressed, going up and down stairs, or getting around, in general, had become a daily pain I’d learned to deal with.
My room was starting to look like maybe I actually lived here. My imprint scattered throughout in scents of lemon and shades of purple. One of the girls I used to work with, Heidi, had taken over my lease back in L.A., and I’d given her the place furnished. The only piece of furniture I’d asked Dante not to sell her was my bed. My boxes arrived bit by bit over the past couple of weeks and my bed a few days ago. Liam didn’t even grumble when I’d asked him if I could switch out his guest bed for my own. Kieran came by the next day and took the bed back to his mom’s. The pale purple down comforter and sheets fit well with the gray paint of the walls and black dresser. I still hadn’t unpacked all of my things, and I was seriously contemplating getting a storage unit for all my damn clothes. The same clothes that reminded me every day what I’d never be again.
I shut the door and made my way to the bed where I’d laid out some yoga pants and a t-shirt. My new uniform. Actually having to look presentable tomorrow was giving me anxiety. I had an entire box filled with all sorts of make-up: bronzer, blush, foundation, but I knew there was nothing that could conceal my wounds, nothing to truly hide behind. I slipped my shirt over my head and stared at myself in the mirror. It was like Jekyll and Hyde. I was still Kelly Kavanagh on the left, but a monster on the right. I swallowed as I pushed back the thought that maybe all the ugliness inside had just finally made its way to the skin.
The air in my lungs froze as I moved toward the rental car. If you could even call it a car. Its metal supports had been bent and torn. Its glass shattered, the seats inside contorted, unnatural.
The tears fell down my face as I looked upon my own death. Or what should have been.
Liam’s heated palm threaded into mine as I took a step back from the demolished car. I’d come here to gather the few things that had been left behind after the crash, but as the ache in my leg throbbed, and the sting in my stitches pulled, all I could hear was the sound of my own voice screaming above the grinding of metal on metal. The smell of burnt rubber, the feel of cold rain, the sticky flavor of blood. Every sense assaulted me and my knees went weak.
His voice.
My name.
“Kelly.”
His hand on my cheek.
My eyes opened and found Liam’s deep brown.
“You’re alive.”
A few days after the accident Liam had taken me to the collision car lot to get my stuff, and when I’d seen the damage, what I’d survived, I’d almost fainted. Liam had told me I was whispering frantically that I’d died, and he tried to shake me from the daylight nightmare, but it was only his touch that had gotten through to me.
There were times he still looked at me like there was something worth saving, like I wasn’t a monster. But as I gazed at my own reflection, all I could see was the girl who ran, the girl who’d broken her prince, the girl who tired of all the promises, and the woman who should’ve died in that crash.
“You’re alive.”
I was alive and tomorrow was the first step toward something better.
It had to be.
“Nah, I’m not into it tonight.” Liam nodded his chin acknowledging me as I walked into the kitchen. His cell phone pressed to his ear, he watched me as I sat on a barstool and leaned the crutches against the counter. “Maybe… tell Mom I’ll be by tomorrow, same time as last week. See you in the morning.”
Liam lowered his phone and set it on the countertop.
“No boy’s night?” I teased as I pulled my hair up into a bun.
Liam’s eyes swept along the length of my arms before he said, “I’m tired.”
He went out a lot with Kieran, but always came home early, and I’d hoped he hadn’t come home early on my account.
“You don’t have to stay here and babysit me.” I peered at him from under my lashes and his eyes narrowed.
He exhaled an annoyed breath. “I’m tired, Kelly, plain and fucking simple.” He searched my face for a reaction, but my mask hardly slipped anymore. Not after that day in the shop. I couldn’t let him know how much his “almost kiss” had cost me. Wishing for things I shouldn’t, I’d thought I’d left all that behind when I’d moved to California.
“How’s your mom doing?”
He exhaled a long, exhausted breath. “I think she’s doing okay. She looks better, but worn the hell out at the same time. You know how she is… always worrying. She told me the other day that coming over during the week to check on her was ‘too hard on me.’” He rolled his eyes. “She acts tough, but I know better.”
“Sounds familiar, is this tough act genetic?” I teased.
The muscle in his jaw feathered, but I swore I saw a glimmer of a smirk. “Are you nervous about starting work tomorrow?” he asked, not so subtly changing the subject as he leaned down and rested his forearms on the granite.
Liam pinned me with his dark stare from across the counter. His hair was disheveled and shorter than when I’d first moved in. The muscles in his arms stretched in colorful waves under all of his ink. The tight cotton of his t-shirt amplified the size of his biceps. He was sin on two legs, sex and sinew, and, oh God, I missed him. I missed him more than I should ever dare to. I missed our easy way, his earthy smell, and his brutal touch.
“I’m scared,” I whispered, and the sharp line of his jaw relaxed and reduced the tension around his eyes. “People look at me differently. They stare.”
“Your face has changed, but you’re still beautiful.” I flinched and he chuckled. “Still hate that word?” he asked.
“You know I do,” I said with a bite he didn’t deserve.
He pushed off the counter and stood with a soft smile. My anger wavered like a waning flame as he moved around the breakfast bar. Liam filled the distance between us, his smile gone. The creases around his eyes dipped and hollowed as he furrowed his brow.
“It’s just a word. It doesn’t define you. You’ve always been worth way more than that fucking definition.”
I shook my head, unwilling to bear the weight of his statement and, as I turned my gaze away from his, the doorbell rang. He didn’t budge, and I could feel his eyes and the intensity of his expectations. It was too much.
“Look at me.” His command stirred the deep and quiet past inside my heart, and I lifted my head. My hands began to shake as he placed his thumb under my chin. “They stare at you because they want to know what happened. The scar on your face, Kelly, it’s real, and it’s devastating, but it’s not you, it’s not all you are, and you fucking know it.”
A shuddered breath escaped my lips as he dropped his hand and went to answer the door.
It’s devastating.
It’s real.
I rubbed my thumb along the bumpy skin of my cheek, the same place where my father had left his mark time and time again. Liam’s words stifled the panic that had been building in my chest day in and day out since I’d awakened in that hospital bed.
My father had locked me in the idea that I was nothing more than a smile and a pretty face. But I’d kept myself in that box, held myself captive by the borders I’d set in place. I’d allowed his words to hold me. I’d allowed the strike of his hand to imprison me. The beat of my heart was a drum as I closed my eyes and watched the wasted years fly by. Wishing for a dream, I’d caged myself in and left behind the one thing, the one person who had always held the key to my freedom.
That car didn’t ruin my face, it cut out the last bit of history my father had left behind.
The smell of fried rice filled the kitchen as Liam placed the bags on the counter. I observed him in silence as he pulled each container from the bag. He’d bought enough food for him, me, and a small army. I laughed and, as he raised his head, his coffee-colored irises caught the light, glimmering with a bit of gold. Liam’s lips pulled into a lopsided grin.
“Do you think you got enough?” I asked with my own smile. I wanted to feel like this again. Light and laid-back. I was sick of the barbed wire surrounding us.
His chuckle warmed my cheeks as he shook his head and started opening the boxes. Ham and fried rice, spring rolls, sweet and sour pork, all my favorites. “What’s all this for?”
I brought my eyes to his as he ran his hand through his hair and rested it on the back of his neck. “I know what you like.” He shrugged and turned to the fridge. Liam grabbed two beers and set them on the counter, sliding one toward me. “It’s a big day tomorrow, fresh start, right?” He pulled a bottle opener from the drawer, and I watched as he opened mine first and then his own. It shouldn’t be a big deal.
He wasn’t my father.
I knew it was my own hang up, but as the bottle caps fell onto the countertop with a lingering tin sound, I couldn’t help that it reminded me of that night, a reminder of how everything had fallen apart. Tomorrow I had the chance to find myself again. It was a new beginning, but not for us.
The light and comfortable moment had passed, but when he held up his beer, I did the same, my camera-ready smile in place as I said, “To fresh starts.”