Mirrors
Maggie
It’s the Tuesday that Brayden leaves for rehab, and I’m at the office with Dina, neither of us able to concentrate.
We did buy a Jeep with the insurance money from my Audi, and I even kept some in the bank after some customization.
I know this whole situation has affected Dina. She stayed over at Ryder’s when we got home from the beach. They are already planning to move her stuff soon. She’s leaving me the living room furniture because I don’t want to have all my stuff here, constantly making me think about what once was. I will move my bed over to the master suite once she has her stuff out.
The shock of Brayden’s drug use has worn off. Now I just wonder how I missed it. Honestly, I’m so angry at him and myself. The whole thing makes me question myself. Was it love? Or the idea of being in love? What was real between us?
Why did I never push to know more about his past? Hell, after four years together, I never even met his family. Maybe, if I had known more, if I gave him more of my time and attention, I could have seen it coming. Or maybe it wouldn’t have happened at all. I just can’t help feeling that some of this is my fault. After all, some of his troubles are my fault. He could have felt too much pressure from me about getting engaged. He might not have been really ready for us to move in together.
I need to take this time apart to really look in the mirror and accept my own faults. We all have shortcomings. I know I played my own part in the downfall of our relationship. The minute I started wondering, I should have face it. Instead of hiding from my problems, I should have confronted them.
Harrison has been the amazing big brother that he always is, calling to check on me daily. He seems bitter about something, but I know better than to pry.
He’s planning to visit again soon. I don’t think he’s happy in South Carolina anymore. I wish I could convince him to move to Charlotte, but he cherishes coastal life, and I don’t think he wants to be this far inland. Although, we haven’t discussed it, so maybe he is ready to get away from the sand and water.
***
Brayden
Boy, oh, boy. Wendy Carmichael is a handful for such a tiny thing. She is short, maybe a little over five-feet, and that’s with heels on. She has luscious curves and medium-length, natural, deep reddish-brown hair. She is wearing what Maggie would call a power suit and walking with every ounce of confidence a stern attorney like herself must have. She’s attractive, pissed off, and well, that combination is hot. Regardless, I find myself yearning for Maggie even more.
“Mr. Holmes, I need to go over a few things with you. Let me first begin by saying that, if it weren’t for Miss Fowler, I would not be anywhere near your case.” She’s told me more than once that I deserve to be punished for my irresponsibility, and she’s right. “I’ve made a plea deal, and if you’re a smart man, you’ll accept it. You will have two years of probation with mandatory drug screenings. You will lose your driving privileges for ninety days, fifty-six days of which you will be in an Arizona rehabilitation facility. You are required to pay the state for the damages to the concrete barrier; however, Miss Fowler already covered those costs. You are required to do three hundred hours of community service. And you’re required to complete your full stay at the facility in Arizona. If this is acceptable to you, please sign these papers.” She pushes the paperwork toward me.
I try to take it all in. I know Dina’s parents died in an accident from someone drinking and driving. I also know I don’t deserve all the help she’s given me.
As I sign, she continues, “Honestly, Mr. Holmes, thank your lucky stars Miss Fowler wants to see you clean and sober. She’s spent quite a bit of money to not only keep you out of jail, but to see to it that you have the best possible care. Personally, I have no issue at all with seeing people like you behind bars. I hope you take the next eight weeks to realize how fortunate you are that no one else was involved in that accident.”
It all feels like I’m being kicked in the gut over and over again. Again, she’s right; there isn’t anything I can say to argue.
Before I can respond, she hands me an envelope and walks away. Inside the package is my plane ticket, the check for my rehab, and a copy of my plea agreement.
Ryder takes me to the airport, and then I have an uneventful flight to Arizona. The car service Dina scheduled is waiting for me in baggage claim and takes me straight to my home for the next two months.
I arrive at my treatment facility to be asked to pee in a cup immediately and my belongings are searched. No, I didn’t pack any contraband, people. Geeze, I came to rehab to get clean; why would I bring shit with me if I’m trying to get off it? This annoys me, and with the time difference, I’m ready to lie down when these people are just having dinner.
Dina has definitely spared no expense. The place looks and feels like a luxury resort. My room is huge with a king-sized bed and private bath. I heard other people talking about having roommates, and I quickly realize she’s paid extra to allow me privacy. I don’t know how much money Dina has, but she has given a lot for a piece of shit like me. They took my cell phone. Otherwise, I would call and thank her. Even though she hates me and has every right to, I owe her my gratitude.
As soft and luxurious as this oversized bed is, I can’t seem to get comfortable. It’s not home and the fear of the unknown ahead of me has me jonesin’ for a high.
I awake early after little sleep and walk to the bathroom to shower. Taking one look in the mirror, all I see staring back at me is the person in my every nightmare.
I lose it.
I scream, yell, and put my hand right into the center of the glass. Once I start, I can’t stop. Feeling no pain from the cuts covering my knuckles and hands, I keep pounding the mirror until security pulls me out of the bathroom.