22.
Dahlia
M att’s phone sounded out loudly from somewhere—an echo of a past life that reminded me where we were, and who I was with.
Matt was still frozen to the spot, like he hadn’t heard his phone. He was staring down at the floor, like he was hoping the ground was going to open up and pull him into the earth.
“Answer it,” I said. The words came out of my mouth and I felt them leave me, but I didn’t recognize my voice. It was like someone else was speaking from within me.
“I don’t want to,” he said after a long moment. “I know who it will be.”
I frowned, confused. That was all I ever seemed to feel around him. Confused and hurt and angry.
The phone continued to ring over and over. Every time there was a break when it went to voicemail, it would start up again, ever insistent that whoever was on the other end be heard.
I began searching for it, tired of the obnoxious ringtone and the indifference that Matt was showing to it. I found it buried beneath the cushions on the small sofa and I saw right away that it was JD. I held it out for Matt to take but he continued to stare at the ground like he hated himself, so I answered it myself.
“Hello,” I said, though there were a thousand other things I would rather have said to this man.
“Where’s Bear?” JD replied, hesitancy in his tone.
“He’s on the other side of the room feeling sorry for himself, of course. That’s all he ever does, right?”
I stared right at Matt as I spoke, and he flinched like I had slapped him. His arms and face bore the evidence of my suffering with long bloody scratches, but I felt completely unperturbed by them. It wasn’t enough. Those marks didn’t match my pain. The grief this man had caused me, over and over again.
“He okay?” JD asked and I laughed. “I take it that’s a yes.”
“Matt’s just like a cat. He has nine lives, and he always lands on his feet. He’ll be fine.”
This time JD laughed. “Then I guess you don’t know him at all.”
I opened my mouth to reply but snapped it shut when I decided I didn’t want to argue with him. What did it matter? I didn’t care about his opinion. I knew him much more than he gave me credit for.
“What do you want?” I asked again.
“Tell him he can bring you home. It’s done,” JD said.
I let those words sink into my skin before replying. I couldn’t decide how I felt about them. On one hand, I should have been glad because the men that had killed my husband were dead and gone. But on the other, more men had died. More blood had been shed. And I wondered, briefly, when it would stop.
“Can you tell him that?” JD asked.
“Yes,” I replied, and then I hung up. I threw Matt’s phone onto the sofa and I looked around. I could leave here now. I could go home. But what was a home now? There was no Alex there waiting for me. There were no children to hold close. My home and my things had been ruined with bullets and bloodshed. Everything was gone.
I packed my things in the bag that I had brought it all in, and then I found the keys to my truck on the kitchen counter. I headed to the door, ready to leave this place. Ready to move on from Alex and Matt and the Kings. I was free now. Maybe I could even contact my parents, and we could make amends, and I could go home to them. Maybe I could even put my college degree to good use, finally.
It was all maybes.
All ifs and buts.
But at least I could choose now. I had a clear head, and I could decide what I wanted to do with my life.
I looked one last time at Matt, this time with a different type of loss filling my heart. Now that I knew what had happened, maybe now I could move on from it. Move on from him. Because if I was honest with myself, I had never really gotten over him. I had met Alex and married him so I could try and get over the pain of losing Alex. I had needed someone to make me feel desirable still. To make me feel like I was worthy of staying.
And then I had stayed for too long. Because, if I was being honest with myself, I knew deep down that Alex wasn’t the one for me. I sighed as Matt finally looked at me. He carried so much pain inside him. The weight of it was killing him by slowly poisoning him. I didn’t know how to help him. I wasn’t even sure if he even wanted help or whether he was happy to wallow in his misery. And who could blame him, really? After everything he had been through, every trauma and loss… We had been two kids from different towns twenty years ago, and we had met and connected on a level that had taken us both by surprise. We had fallen in love and that love had buoyed us for these past years when things were hard, but it was time to move on now. We could both move past this. We had to, because neither of us were those kids anymore.
I stared at the man in front of me, wondering who he might have been if life hadn’t had a hand in ruining him. What kind of future we might have had together if there hadn’t been so much death. So much grief.
I would get over the loss of Alex in the same way I got over Matt, but it would change me. Just like losing Matt had done.
But I didn’t know if he would recover. I could already see him ready to push that self-destruct button, and a part of me wanted him to. But only part of me. The other part, the younger part, would always want him to have a happy, full life, because that part would always be in love with him.
“Goodbye, Matt,” I said, and this time it was me walking away. This time it was my choice to let what we had die.
He lifted an arm, half reaching for me, and then he nodded his acceptance and lowered it back to his side.
“Goodbye, Dahl,” he replied, his voice thick with loss.