CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Newspapers
LAKE
TC: Yeah, sure man, no problem.
TC: Glad to have you back.
TC: Busy now. I’ll be in your usual spot tonight.
I puff out a breath from deep in my lungs. Both my hands press against the counter, remaining there for a minute. Then I blink and rise to my full height.
I got the last text from TC this afternoon. Pretty sure he was mad I cut him off once I ODed. Fair enough, I bring him a ton of business, but he responded to me, anyway. Cause again, I’ve brought him business.
The second I saw my new life flash in front of me in Brooks’ office, I’ve done exactly what I vowed to do. Try. I’ve been studying, doing flashcards with Serenity, working, and following my wife around like a clingy puppy.
My schedule got busy enough, and Serenity’s a great distraction, but I’ve been alone most of today with nothing but a thin layer of hope. That last text tore straight through all I’ve been avoiding.
I turn off my phone and shove it into my pocket. I don’t wanna look at it. Instead, I avert my eyes, taking the spray bottle back in my hand and cleaning off the entrance table.
Been cleaning all evening. The house is already fucking glimmering, but I got no choice but to keep cleaning. I dropped off Serenity at work, so her presence isn’t keeping me from losing it. All my work at Brooks’ company is done, and I’ve memorized everything he wanted me to study.
I squat and wipe the table legs. My eye catches something sticking out underneath it. I grunt to myself, dropping the clump of paper towel and reaching forward. It’s a newspaper.
My eyebrow does its natural rise on my forehead. The paper is flipped to an article about the Mancini family. Weird. Serenity never reads the newspaper. She usually hands it to me or tosses it.
The headline is blaring on the page, and there’s a picture of Mancini’s mother crying. Nobody knows what happened to Mancini. Police got no information, and no good leads. I never met the guy, but I saw him once or twice at the Luna.
My chest compresses the longer I look at her face. That could’ve been me. I could’ve made my brother weep like that.
The dryer beeps. I take a last glimpse of the broken woman before placing it in the garbage next to me, along with the dirty and used paper towels. Another beep sounds, so I head through the hallway to grab Angel’s stuff. She agreed to let me do her laundry. Me seeing and kissing her bare skin made her less embarrassed about her underwear. Not surprised.
I pop open the dryer and roll out her mountain of shit into the basket below. Then I saunter back through the hall. Focusing my brain on the three songs playing in my head rather than my thoughts and the sour feeling of my phone in my pocket. I step over the garbage bag and head upstairs to Serenity’s room, nudging open the door and dumping her fresh clothes on her bed.
My eyes land on my scars. Inked and un-inked, and the text floats back to my head. I move my fingers to scratch at my skin, but I tense every muscle in my body to stop myself.
Try. Keep distracted.
I rummage through the pile to gather her shirts. They go in the middle drawer. I take a solid five minutes to fold all of her tops. There’s some pretty tank tops and t-shirts I haven’t seen on her, so I leave those ones at the top of the drawer.
Each day, I learn a hundred details about Serenity. She’s damn exhausted, so she stopped reading her books and only watches movies. I don’t know how to fix that yet. She doesn’t wear half her clothes because she’s always in scrubs or something she can nap in. My wife loves extra cheese, and she doesn’t know how to cook.
I put away her underwear and socks. Then I take my time to fold her pants and the few sets of her scrubs I washed. That’s another thing I’ve learned. Angel doesn’t spend her time rambling over her shifts. It’s either good, bad, or fine, before she moves on, but I wanna ask her for details about work. Her pink scrubs had blood stains I scrubbed out.
It can’t be easy to save people for a living. She should talk about it.
I shut her dresser drawers, leaving the empty laundry basket in the corner, and heading back downstairs. Gotta keep my brain occupied, so I hold my mind on Serenity.
Besides the laundry, I’ve also been picking her up from work. I caught her looking for me in the parking lot. Her shoulders fell, and she beamed her smile when she found my truck with me leaning against it. She doesn’t complain anymore, she just lets me get her, and seeing her relax at the sight of me made it all worth it.
Although I could’ve sworn I saw Fletch Fuck standing outside, watching her stroll to my truck, but I never got a clear look. I’ve been a little on edge about it. I told her to tell me if he bothers her again, but considering she doesn’t talk about the ER events, I don’t know if she’d confess anything about Fletcher. Unless I bring it up.
Brooks made me shake his hand to never speak about the crime I asked him to do. He bashed Fletcher’s face in for me. Cause I was losing my shit in my hospital room, but I wouldn’t need to beg my brother for help this time. I’d be free to lose it and strong enough to do it myself. Good thing, because since I started work, Brooks’ only worry is his fancy expansion deal.
ER. Fletcher. Two new things to think about.
I scrub the kitchen faucet, pushing the lie that it isn’t clean enough. Even though my reflection in the faucet is HD quality. I take a step closer to root myself in a better position, but my focus leaves the faucet as my foot crunches something.
Another paper. It’s like I’m on a damn scavenger hunt with all the shit I keep finding.
Half of the paper is trapped in the locked cabinet. I drag it out and turn it over. The page has a centered image of a blonde woman. Around the house, Serenity keeps pictures of the same woman. They looked more similar in their younger years, with big and hopeful smiles.
At the top of the page is her name, Delilah Madden. The picture below her name shows an adult Delilah. There’s no light in her eyes, and a tiny, forced smile is tugged on her lips. Her hair is ruffled, and her cheekbones are hollowed out.
Delilah Madden’s obituary.
Serenity didn’t want to talk about how she died. I get it. River’s death was a damn tragedy. Just retelling the basics is enough to upset me. So I’m itching to know, I wanna keep reading, but I’m not going against my wife’s wishes. If Angel wants to tell it one day, she will. I’ll wait to know what happened. I layer the page on top of the fridge, letting it cover the stack of mail.
***
TC sends me another message. Asking if I’m coming.
I don’t know if I am.
I cleaned until my fingers cramped. So I cycled through the notes Brooks gave me and read my flashcards to myself. That didn’t help. I tried to relax, but I’m itching for my favorite pain reliever. My body is begging to recommit to my old life. Cause no matter what I do, I’m always hung up on my parents and the way I grew up. I get I’m justifying self-sabotage, but I got no clue how to stop. All my head does is try to make a way backwards, and my rehab hasn’t taught me how to stop that.
It would’ve been so easy a few months back. I wouldn’t have questioned walking outside and fading into my motions. My phone wouldn’t be boiling against my palm. Every memory circles my blood, screaming at me to end the suffering.
Here I am at the doorway. My fingers are aching to reach forward, but my feet won’t let me. I won’t let myself.
I bite on the inside of my cheek. There’s no fucking way I can let myself go. It’s the easy way out, but I can’t fucking take it. Even though my body is throbbing and shouting. There’s a gentle whisper, telling me I’ve already sent the text, so I might as well. I could just slip on my shoes. Wouldn’t even need a coat.
This was the plan, anyway. That’s why I drove Serenity today, instead of letting her take the truck. I’m an idiot. I kept the fucking truck, just in case I decided to sneak off and get high. I’m an idiot. Maybe I should just admit it out loud. That my head got too noisy, and I knew damn well I sunk too much H into my blood. I should’ve died then, but.
My head rests on the back of the door. Her purses layer to the left of me, and her empty boots knock against my shoes. Everything that’s gray and unknowing turns colorful.
I put my hand on my chest. Hearing—feeling my lungs fill with flowers and spread into my veins. My heart beating. My blood is pumping. I tap on my phone and do the unthinkable. I text my wife for help. The one and only woman stubborn enough to not let me die.
It takes nothing but a few seconds for her to call me. “Are you okay? Why do you need a movie recommendation?”
I hold my phone against my ear, taking in her voice. “I’m not okay Angel.”
She whispers, “okay, I’m here. Let me think.”
There’s about twelve different beeping noises in the background. A woman is demanding to see her husband, and a different voice is hollering in the distance. I hear Serenity grunt and shuffle. One of her co-workers questions what she’s doing, but Serenity never answers.
“Are you hiding under the damn desk?” I ask her.
“That’s not important, Phoenix.” She huffs again, clearly squishing herself under the desk. “Oh! Watch The Age of Adaline .”
No idea what that is. “You sure?”
“I’m sure. I’ll be home soon, okay?”
There’s more shouting. The ER sounds like it’s in chaos, but Serenity stays with me. Tucked under a desk, avoiding the surrounding turmoil for the sake of me.
My lips twitch. “Okay, Angel.”
“I’ll be home soon,” she repeats. “Stay safe, Lake. Wait for me.”
***
I wake up to Serenity, massaging my shoulder. She’s crouched in front of me, and when my eyes open, she gives me a soft smile. The sun is nowhere near rising. I scan the clock on the TV. She’s home an hour early. My guardian angel.
She slips beside me on the sofa. “Are you alright?”
I don’t wanna run around in circles, so I tell her straight up. “I texted my dealer.”
Her eyes don’t leave mine, but she takes a deep inhale before nodding her head. “Okay. Did you get something?”
“No. Texted you. Stopped myself.”
She scoots closer to me, smoothing her hand up and down my back. Her smile is sympathetic and proud. She’s proud of me, and for a minute, she stays silent. Just massaging my skin and letting the quiet draw in.
“Why did you text him?”
I drop my head into my hands and rub my temples. I feel like a damn moron. This is the longest I’ve been sober since I was fifteen. I’m a grown man, but this is kicking me in the ass. Every day, I feel like two different people in one body.
“You know about the scar on my head. That’s one of many.” I sink into her touch. “You’ve heard stories from Brooks, too, about my dad and our ma, but I don’t talk much about them.”
I lean back, letting Serenity grab onto my hand and continue to smooth her thumb along my skin. Each little touch, I burn and breathe. She says, “they were abusive, I know that much.”
“Yeah, it messed me up. Could you guess?” I shake my head. “Anyway. Dad’s out of jail now. It’s been on my mind and when my mind goes—”
She finishes my sentence. “You don’t stop thinking.”
This woman brings me peace. I bow my head.
“Okay. I got it.” She holds both of my hands. “You’re always telling me I’m a good person. That I should be proud of myself. That other people’s opinions shouldn’t screw up how I see myself.”
She looks up to the roof, tilting her head. “I would say take your own advice, but you argue with yourself a lot.”
Glad that’s obvious.
“So.” Her warm hand leaves my palm and cups my cheek. “You, Lake Phoenix, are a good person. You’ve come such a long way, and you should be proud of that.”
Something shuts in me, like I’ve had a heavy, unmoveable door in my soul, and those simple words were all I needed to seal the door shut. I watch her wings rise beside her, and I can’t find a single way to express what she’s done for me. How much I long for her words, or even just a glimpse of her.
Her head dips to the side. “If you don’t believe that, it’s okay. Just believe me.”
Never got a teenage love. This is what that feels like.
I don’t take my time to hold her pretty head and kiss her, and she doesn’t take her time to stop it. I’d fucking love to keep her essence in a jar in my pocket. Take a sip of it when I’m feeling cornered.
She smiles with her blushed cheeks, beaming sunlight at me like I deserve to feel bright. I don’t deserve it, but my God, does her existence make me lighter.
I did it, Serenity. Today I tried, and you helped me win.
“Why don’t we watch another movie together?” She runs her fingers along her throat. “I need some water first, though.”
“Sounds good, Angel.” I grab her hand, announcing to the walls of the house that she’s mine. “I put a couple of bottles in the fridge for you.”
She groans. “Yes, thank you!”
We head to the kitchen. I have two things on my mind. Serenity and if anyone has been bothering Serenity. I’m not worried about nothing else anymore. She’s home, I’m okay.
“Uh, Angel?”
She hums in response, popping open the fridge and grabbing a bottle of cold water. She doesn’t hesitate to hand it to me, and I pop it open. Then she sips on the chilled water, and some of it drips down her chin and splashes onto her chest.
Three things on my mind.
I shake my head. “Has Fletch Fun-Size been bugging you?”
Her cheeks puff with air, and she almost spits out her water. Then she waves her hand. “I mean, not really.”
I raise an eyebrow. Should be not at all, especially for Fun-Size’s sake. Guess who isn’t stuck in a hospital bed anymore? Her husband.
River taught Brooks and me how to respect women. Plus, we enjoy using our fists. So when it comes down to some asshole disrespecting a woman, he can kiss his teeth goodbye. So, Brooks did some damage to Fletcher. It was a warning, but my brother isn’t married to Serenity. He isn’t obsessed with her light, I am. Sobriety and strength on my side, I will gladly mesh Fletcher with some concrete.
She looks at the floor. “He’s been looking at me weird, and he texted me recently, so I blocked him.”
Moron. “What did he text you?”
“Lake—” She pacifies herself. “He said we needed to talk.”
I point to her finger. “Think it has to do with the ring on your hand?”
“I’m not sure. I need to take it off during my shifts. Maybe he saw it when I put it away at some point?” She squishes her lips into a circle, then continues, “he wouldn’t just know. I’ve only told Maggie and Jimena that we’re married.”
Texts my wife and thinks he can look at her. I would’ve guessed getting jumped would stop him from glancing at her, but I forgot he’s an asshat. My eye twitches, and I’m getting there. I’m reaching the point of losing it and knitting his ugly cheek with the pavement.
Then her head sways. “Lake, let’s not worry about it. I’m concerned about you. I can ignore Caleb’s stares.”
“Thanks for the worry, Angel, but that’s not how this works.”
She furrows her eyebrows. “I don’t want you rearranging Caleb’s nose over something I’m overreacting about.”
I sigh and step closer, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Angel, if he makes you uncomfortable at all, you tell me.” I sigh out a low chuckle. “Don’t care if you think you’re overreacting. Just tell me.”
“We switched conversation topics fast, Lake. Are you sure you’re okay?” She chews on her lower lip.
“You’re all that’s on my mind, honey.” I pull her lip out of her teeth with my thumb. “You’re a beautiful woman. He lost you. That’s his problem. If he keeps it up, it’s my problem.”
I add, “you’re my wife. You’ll live in peace, how it should be.”
“You’re cute when you’re protective, Phoenix.” She giggles, making me feel fuzzy.
I roll my eyes and hold up my pinky. “Promise me you’ll tell me.”
She looks at my hand, her eyes glowing, and a gentle smirk spreads across her cheeks. She hooks our pinkies together. “I promise.”