36
What she didn’t know
[Hank]
I am a goddamn idiot, I decide as I doodle on the calendar at the hotline help desk. Thoughts of Midge consume me. Her body underneath mine, moaning, moving, taking me in. Her heart, open and raw as she apologizes, as she says she loves me. Her emotions overwhelm me. My emotions overwhelm me. Have I not had my eyes open? She wasn’t fucking me; she was seducing me. In true dumbass form, I misinterpreted her intentions. She wanted to apologize for hurting my feelings and thought getting close would soothe the sting, and she was fucking right, but I fucking blew it. The instant we finished, and she blurted, I love you, I knew, I just knew I had it all wrong in my head. Why hadn’t I believed her? Why didn’t I accept it? Because fucking Kit messed with my heart and my head, but no more. From this day forward, I will not let Kit interfere. I’m telling Midge everything tonight, clearing the air and then making her promises I intend to keep forever.
I’m supposed to meet Midge after Liam’s game because I work the day shift at the center. This is the day I prefer, when we actually meet people face to face. These are the moments I feel my best because I’m truly helping someone. The teens passing through here are a mess, and I can only hope to reach them before it’s too late. I instantly think of Midge. I don’t want it to be too late for me either. I’m slow on the uptake, but I’ll be loyal on the downswing.
I stand to hold open the door for a few of our young regulars when a woman with greasy, long hair slips in. Instantly, I sense she’s older despite her small frame. Without meaning to touch her, I take her arm to stop her just inside the hall. Her head snaps up, and her glazed eyes try to focus.
“Hanky? I’ve been looking for you.” She swipes at her nose with the back of her hand, sniffling deeply before lowering her fist. She sways on her feet, and I reach for her shoulders.
“Steph, honey. What are you doing?” I should be angry she found me again. In fact, I’m downright pissed off, but I’m also a bit shaken. Everything about her looks familiar to my past, and I don’t want a trip down memory lane. Memory is a fickle bitch, though, and the images flip on speed dial through my head. Drugs. Alcohol. Women. The stench coming off Stephie isn’t good.
Her hands reach for my wrists, but she misses. Her head rolls to the side. She’s so fucking high.
“Got some place private we could go? I could give you something.” A cracked fingernail attempts to slide down my chest, but I suck in my breath, willing her not to touch me. I want nothing to do with her or her proposition, but I can’t turn my back. This is the crisis center. We’re here to help people like her.
“Let me get you some coffee. We can talk,” I offer. I guide her to a seat in a small sitting room, one filled by a couch and two chairs. Not wanting to be alone with her, I avoid the confining space of an empty office. I’m pushing her gently backward by her shoulders, keeping an arm’s length distance between us. To my surprise, she lets me lead her. Her knees hit the back of the sofa, and her surprise brings up her hands. She grips my t-shirt with two tiny fists.
High Stephie is a strong Stephie, and as I press her downward, she tugs on my shirt, forcing me down with her. I fumble, faltering over her. My hand catches the back of the couch before I tumble completely. My knee comes between both of hers, pinning me to the cushions. She giggles as she hits the soft, shaggy fabric.
“Steph, whatcha doing?” I growl, and then a throat clears behind me. I spin and find a teenager looking at me, wide-eyed and questioning. My position over Stephie looks precarious. The angle of my body. My knee between her thighs. The shortness of her skirt. It’s compromising, but fuck, it’s anything but.
“Ronin?” I choke.
“I wanted to talk to you, but I can see you’re busy.” What the fuck is Midge’s kid doing down here? This isn’t a good part of the city, and I can’t even begin to wonder what’s on his mind.
“Scram, little dumpling,” Stephie slurs. “Hanky and I have business.”
I press up off the couch and spin to face Ronin. His eyes pinned on Steph. Her legs spread, revealing what I can only assume is something that should be covered. Ronin cringes.
“We do not,” I say, keeping my eyes on Ronin, pleading with him to back away and not misunderstand this situation.
“I’m just…I’ll just…” Ronin points over his shoulder to the hall, twists a little at the waist, and then bolts.
“Dammit,” I mutter, stepping forward to follow him when I hear a thump against the couch. I turn to find Steph has slipped to her side. Her eyes closed. Her mouth open. Her nose bleeding. Stepping back toward her, I instantly feel for a pulse. A memory so vivid, so alive it nearly blinds me strikes. Goddammit. Her skin feels cold, her vein weakly beating.
“Reggie,” I call out, seeking the supervisor. The second call I practically scream. Reaching for my phone, I dial 911 as Reg enters the sitting room. “Overdose.” I swallow, keeping my fingers on Stephie’s neck, my own body shivering at all the possibilities this could mean.
+ + +
Stephie’s been pumped, prepped, and set on an IV drip to clean her system. The road to recovery is going to be a lot longer than one night in the hospital, and I only hope she’ll get where she needs to go. I know the road went untraveled by me too many times before I had my wake-up call. Losing everything I physically owned. Losing the one thing I could never own. Nearly destroying a life.
“Kit was right. You’re a good man,” Stephie moans, her voice groggy as her head rolls on the pillow. She looks old—used and abused—and probably not even forty. The professional groupie life is a difficult path. Her hair lays limp and scraggly around her bony, thin face. Did I ever find her attractive? I shudder at the thought and think of Midge. I’m ignoring what Stephie says, disappearing in images of Midge. Her beautiful, thick brown hair, not a hint of gray but filled with highlights. I want to watch it change. I want to see her grow old. Her smaller size but ample curves, which she isn’t afraid to show off, at least in private with me. I think of the lavender lingerie she wore the other night under her raincoat. My girl has some gumption. The thought of her as mine reminds me I’m hoping I’m not too late.
“She really loved you,” Stephie adds, and my attention leaps back to her.
“Who?” I ask; although the sick feeling in my gut tells me I should know the answer.
“Kit, silly. She always talked about you. She said she could rely on you.”
I snort in response. “That’s not love.”
“We all knew you were fucking each other more exclusive than most of the boys.” I cringe again at the reference to the open sexuality of all of us back then. How meaningless it all was. Can I recall now why I thought it was fun? I pause, and Stephie continues.
“She was stupid not to marry you, always bragging that you asked, but playing it cool that she didn’t want marriage.” My stomach roils with bile at the thought of Kit belittling my proposals. “But she loved you, and she should have just done said yes.” Stephie’s eyes close. I should let her rest, but she’s riled me up and I need to speak.
“She never said she loved me,” I scoff, trying to blow off the suggestion like Kit so coldly dismissed my proposals.
“Sometimes you don’t need to say the words to have emotion be heard, Hanky. It’s right there before your eyes if you really want to listen.” I’m ready to scoff again, thinking this makes no sense, but the more I consider it, I wonder. Am I still not listening? Do I not hear the sweet sound before me in Midge? I want to hear her love. I want to be somebody’s someone. More, whispers through my head. At every turn, Midge has been telling me and showing me she’s willing to give me everything. I’m missing it with the shit deafening my head instead of fully opening my heart.
“It doesn’t matter now,” Stephie says, swallowing hard, her lips cracked and chapped. Her eyes still closed. Her head rolls away from me, and I think she’s fallen back into the blissful abyss the hospital offers until her system cleans itself enough to move on.
“The hell it doesn’t,” I mutter, speaking to myself. I’ve been alone for too long, probably most of my life even within the relationship with Kit. Love isn’t a one-sided album track. There always has to be a B-side to the A-side. Any drummer knows the rhythm works best with two sticks not one. I’m tired of being alone, so tired, and I have a willing person before me to share my life with me. What the fuck have I been waiting for?
+ + +
I’m eager to get to Midge’s house the next morning. I tried to call overnight but all messages went to voicemail. Even my text messages remain unanswered. I say there was an emergency. Then I panic and promise I can explain everything, worried Ronin told his mom what he saw, what he thought he saw.
“Don’t give up on me, little lady.” It’s the last message I leave with hope she will listen to me. My ears are open, as are my eyes and my heart, but heavy feet carry me up her front walk.
After ringing the bell, I hear shuffling behind the door. Muffled voices and a slight bang occurs before the door opens.
“What do you want?” Elston snaps, his brother Ronin behind him.
“I’d like to talk to your mother.” My arms cross, a defensive stature kicking in, but this punk ass gives it right back to me. He’s going to protect his mom, I can see it in his eyes, and I can’t fault him. Still, I need to see her.
“She isn’t here,” Ronin says behind his brother, arms crossed to match my stance. Not nearly as robust as his sibling, he still refuses to let me over the threshold like his brother.
“I’ll wait,” I demand, stepping forward when Elston holds up a hand.
“My mother doesn’t allow strangers in the house when she isn’t home.” His voice drips saccharine sweet and sarcastic.
“Good thing I’m not a fu…a stranger.” My eyes catch Liam in the background, and I curb my cursing. I don’t quite believe Elston’s statement nor do I like the implication I’m an outsider. For a second, I wonder if they’re covering for Midge, who hides inside the house, but then again, she would never send her sons for her. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, she’ll face me and want answers. I think back to the first time she confronted me when I perched her on my brother’s desk and ate her like the delicacy she is.
“You are now,” Ronin interjects, sheepishly.
“Ronin, what you saw…It wasn’t what you thought.”
“Save it for the judge, mister,” he blurts, and I don’t even know what that means.
“What were you doing at the crisis center anyway?” I ask. Elston’s head twists to his younger brother as if this question hasn’t been asked.
“I was dropping off a friend.” His voice squeaks as his head lowers. My need to help crashes over me.
“What happened?” My concern is returned with a glare.
“None of your business.” It would have been my business had I stayed at the center. Instead, I traveled with Stephie to the hospital and waited until she was out of immediate danger. I couldn’t help her more than that. She needs a sponsor, but I can’t be it for her. I’m too close to her history with my past, but I offered recommendations of places to call and people to meet if she is ready to keep herself clean. Only Stephie can make those decisions, no one else.
Liam peeks around his second brother’s arm. “Why can’t we let him in again?”
“He cheated on Mom,” Elston snaps, and I feel like I’ve been sucker punched.
“Ronin,” I groan, swiping a hand down my face before I can look at Midge’s middle child. “That is not what happened. It’s a crisis center…and she was having a crisis.”
“Oh, I bet she was having a crisis,” Elston retorts, and I see his hand twitch. If he wasn’t a kid, only seventeen, he’d be on the floor in a second. Instead, I take a deep breath and clasp my itchy fists.
“You watch yourself, kid. And don’t disrespect women like that.”
“Because you respect them so much?” He’s back to sharp eyes and an even sharper tongue. Sarcasm isn’t pretty on a teenager, and I almost laugh at his balls. He reminds me of myself.
“I respect women plenty, especially your mother. I’d never cheat on her. And I’m not having this conversation with you until I speak to her first.”
Elston shakes his head, and it’s Ronin who speaks. “Well, she isn’t home. She said she had errands, but I think she just wanted to be alone. We don’t know when she’ll be back.”
“Why don’t we like him anymore?” Liam asks all innocent, his head whipping back and forth between his brothers like a tennis match.
“He wasn’t good to Mom,” Elston adds. “He treated her like Dad did.” I might hate this kid for the comparison to a man I know treated Midge poorly.
“Elston,” Ronin warns, his eyes shifting from his big brother to his little brother, issuing a warning.
“What did Dad do?” Liam asks all innocent, and I swipe a hand down my face again, before imploring Elston to shut up before he digs himself too deep. Liam looks up at me. “You can’t divorce her. You aren’t married.” He pauses a second. “Are you breaking up?”
The horror on his face nearly breaks me. I want to reach forward and pull him to my chest, but with the glare Elston levels at me, I don’t move.
“We are not breaking up. Absolutely not. We are just getting started.” I meet Elston head-on before I see the hesitation in his eyes. His brows pinch slightly before he looks away.
“Either way, she isn’t here,” Ronin reminds me.
“Like I said, I’ll wait.” I’ve been waiting so long for someone like their mother, what’s a few more minutes, hours, days? I spin for the stoop and take a seat, briefly glancing over my shoulder to smirk at a seventeen-year-old. Elston steps back, forcing Ronin farther into the house, but Liam curves around his brothers.
“I’ll wait with you.” He walks to the front stoop and takes a seat on the bricks next to me. This kid. I look down at the brick step, and a chuckle hits me. Literally, I’m pausing on another step in life. How is that for irony?
+ + +
I’m pretty certain waiting isn’t one of the twelve steps of recovery, and as the time ticks by, I grow more restless. Midge doesn’t really think I cheated on her, right? This is all a misunderstanding. I just need to tell her what happened.
A light touch comes to my wrist, and I flinch at the contact. I turn toward Liam, forgetting for a moment I had company. He’s been playing on his phone the whole time he sits next to me, but I’ve given up looking at mine. Midge isn’t answering any type of message.
“What are these for again?” Liam points at the two bands around my wrist, hesitating that I might reject his touch.
“You startled me when you touched me,” I reassure him. “My thoughts are kind of deep at the moment.”
“Mom gets like that too sometimes. Sort of in her head and she doesn’t hear us call her name or enter a room. I thought it was just a girl thing.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, what do you know about girls?” He’s only ten, but then again, when I was ten, I’d already felt up the thirteen-year-old babysitter. I don’t want to think of Liam doing those things yet. Stick to baseball, kid.
“Not much. I’m not all gooey for them like Elston and Ronin. Dad says my time will come. Mom says don’t rush it. I have girls who are friends, though. That’s cool.” He nods like this is an accomplishment.
“That is cool. Friends are really important.” I think about my friends—the ones I used to have, the ones who never were true friends. Tommy comes to mind as the true kind. He’s trying to pick up with me as if we never left off. There’s a lot of water still drowning the bridge, but I can see him working to repair the damage. Even Gage, who I didn’t pay much attention to when they were punks and just getting their band started, has included me wholeheartedly into their fold. I miss the band. Then I reflect a moment—honestly, I don’t. I’m in a better place where I am, who I am, and with who I plan to spend my time with in the future. “Girlfriends can be awesome, too. When you’re ready, though.”
“Mom is your girlfriend, right? I mean, I see you kiss her, and she’s always watching you when you walk around a room. She smiles more, and she has those gooey eyes.” He rolls his eyes. “She wasn’t like that with my dad.”
My chest clenches. I don’t want him to think ill of his father, and it’s none of my business where Midge’s previous relationship stood. I mean, they’re divorced, so it’s over. Yet I’m a twinge happy I draw her eyes like he says and make her smile.
“She is my girlfriend, and I plan to keep her, despite what your brothers are saying. They’re misinformed. Do you know what that means?”
“I’m ten, not stupid.” He raises an eyebrow at me.
“Got it. Well, your mom and I had a misunderstanding, thanks to Ronin’s misunderstanding.” I pause. That isn’t exactly true. I saw her shut down after the other night in the back of my car. As I sit next to her son, I shouldn’t think of such things as her naked body underneath mine, christening the leather of my car with the scent of her. But I need to recall her expression—the confusion, the sadness, the miscommunication—between us. I interpreted one thing while she clearly meant another. There’s more misunderstanding than one at the moment. “I just need to talk to her.”
I’m hoping that’s all I need to do to convince her, but as the time passes, I’m beginning to wonder.
“What do those mean again?” He nods at my wrist.
“The leather symbolizes ‘weaving’ people together, like my old band, and the brown beads remind me it takes a team.” His brown-haired head nods slowly. “A team for support. For love.”
“You might need a team to win back Mom. Elston, Ronin and I have to do that sometimes. When she’s upset with one of us, we stick together to get each other out of trouble.” His head continues rocking, and to my surprise, an idea comes to me from this ten-year-old, who is not stupid at all. Not one bit.