Surviving Love Read online

  I head to the bathroom to take a shower, and for the first time, I get a glimpse of my appearance. I’ve avoided the mirror the last ten days, and now, when I see my reflection, I’m appalled. No wonder everyone is looking at me like I will break. I look horrible.

  I pull off my shirt and jeans, standing in my boxers to study myself in the mirror. My skin is ashy and pale, my eyes are sunken in and large bags are pooling under them. My chest used to be defined and ripped, but now it looks like someone has let the air out of my body. My rib cage is the only definition I have in my chest, and my skin sags slightly, hanging from my bones. My arms look weaker as do my legs. I look like I’ve been starving myself for days, which is pretty much the truth. Food? It hasn’t even been a thought for several days.

  Tipping my head up, I try to remember the last time I ate a meal and cannot remember. I’ve been solely surviving on Mountain Dew and small bits of food here and there. My appetite has vanished along with everything else. I’m literally a husk of a human. There’s nothing left inside and out. I’m nothing without her. I’m…nothing.

  I quickly hop in the shower, washing and rinsing my body. When I get out, I can hear Mia crying from her crib. I get dressed and walk into her room, which is just off the bathroom. She’s standing in her bed, arms up, begging me to pick her up. It’s late, and the only way she’ll fall back to sleep is to be rocked in my arms.

  I reach in her bed and hold Mia against my chest. She rests her head on my shoulder, yawning through her tiredness. Sitting down in the rocking chair, I begin to sway my daughter back and forth. Then, for the first time in days, I get the courage to sing the lullaby only Presley has sung to her.

  Swallowing the lump in my throat, I let the words to Billy Joel’s “Lullaby” fall from my heart and into the air. Mia immediately is comforted as her body relaxes deeper into mine. I continue to rock her as I quietly sing words that have only been sung by her mother.

  This was one of Presley’s favorite joys of being a mother, rocking and singing Mia to bed. The time was only theirs, and until she died, I never interfered.

  Now, it’s up to me to keep the tradition going.

  When I finish the song, I continue to hum the lyrics until I can feel the deep breaths coming from Mia’s chest. I then lay her back in her crib and she rolls to her stomach, settling in. Before I leave the room, I take a moment to study my daughter. She is absolutely precious with her curly, brown hair wildly lying across her face. I run my fingers over her cheeks, brushing the strands away.

  I’m overwhelmed with so many feelings when I look at my baby. Of course, love is present, but I feel disappointed in myself that I’ve allowed her mother to die the way she did. I hurt because Mia won’t know her mother or how much she loved her. All I want is for her to be happy.

  I lean down and whisper, “I love you, sweet girl,” then kiss her on the temple.

  Mia is the only person in this house who has been created out of love. Unlike me or my brothers who’ve come from irresponsible and idiotic parents, Mia was created from the love of two people. The love Presley and I had for each other was bonded together to make this little angel. It’s a love that will withstand the test of time, and in my lifetime, will be irreplaceable.

  I will love no one like I love Presley, and Mia is living, breathing proof of our love.

  ***

  Six in the morning has come way too fucking early as my alarm sounds loudly in my ear. I shut it off and sit up, putting my feet on the floor. Today is going to be a hard day; I just hope no one asks how I’m doing. I’m not ready to talk about it, and the last thing I want to do is cry like a fucking pussy in front of a bunch of hard-ass steel workers.

  I lean forward placing my head in my hands, which lately, has been my typical sitting position. I’m always hunched forward, looking down on a life that’s done just that to me—let me down. Keeping myself looking down is the only way I can keep my body from collapsing onto the floor. It’s so hard to look into the devastated eyes of my family and not feel pain. If I keep my head down, I find it easier to stand and move these days. I’ve got to do what I can to keep myself upright.

  I pull work clothes from my dresser, get dressed and shuck on my boots. I can hear Mia over the monitor, bouncing in her crib and talking away. She has yet to say any real words and I’m excited for when she does. I wonder what her first word will be.

  Jake started placing bets before she turned a year old and is confident Axl will be Mia’s first word. He is a delusional idiot sometimes. Darcie and Delilah are so sure a curse word will come out before any other word. Man, I hope not. I try really hard to bite my tongue when she’s around, but on the other hand, Darcie and Jake can’t control their language. It’s literally impossible for them. I said she would say mama first and Presley took the bet thinking Mia would say dada. It hurts a little, but I’m excited nonetheless.

  I open the door to Mia’s room and her angelic face is full of smiles. “Hey, sweet girl,” I say when I pick her up and cuddle her into my body, holding her for a minute before we have to get moving back into reality.

  I lay her down on the changing table to change her diaper and dress her in a purple outfit. I think Delilah bought this for her birthday, yet I can’t remember. Delilah buys Mia crap all the time. Actually, everyone buys Mia stuff regularly. My child will definitely want for nothing.

  I pick her back up and walk to the kitchen, placing her in her high chair. I give her a sippy cup of milk and sprinkle some dry cereal on the tray while I get my lunch packed for the day. Mia wastes no time drinking down her milk and eating her food.

  How am I going to get through the day? I place my hands on the counter by the sink then lean forward. Expelling a deep breath, I realize I need to do what I did when Presley was gone for three months in rehab. It was hard then, but that’s the only way I know I can approach the next several months of my life. I will just pretend she’s gone to rehab.

  I finish getting Mia’s stuff ready and then we head out the back door and get into the car. I called Mrs. Fields last night and asked her if I could start bringing Mia there again. She was happy to be seeing us again, although I’m not really looking forward to seeing her.

  Mrs. Fields has been a great help and a dear friend to both Presley and I, however it will be hard to look into her eyes. I haven’t seen or even spoken to her since the funeral. She’s a motherly figure to me now, and I hope I can make it out of her apartment without crying.

  Then there’s the other reason I will hate going there—Carter. Being back at the apartment complex where he lives infuriates me, yet inwardly I hope he’s there. I’d like just one minute alone with him. I want nothing more than to make him suffer. However, I don’t think Carter is stupid enough to be at his apartment, especially since the police are looking for him.

  When I pull into the parking lot, so many horrible feelings begin to escalate. Nothing good surfaces inside my chest—only pain, rage and anger. I sit for a second to gather my emotions, not wanting my daughter to see me upset, then exit the Chevelle.

  Mia giggles when I pull her from her car seat and it instantly calms my rage. I can’t do anything stupid to Carter. I can’t sacrifice losing my baby. I have to be responsible. I believe full well Carter will get what’s coming to him. And I hope it’s as agonizing as Hell.

  Before I get a chance to knock, Mrs. Fields opens the door and Mia leans toward her arms. She’s missed her babysitter, and I can’t help feeling glad I won’t have to worry about Mia while I’m at work. As Mrs. Fields grabs a hold of Mia and gives her a hug. I smile. It’s the first time in days something has made me smile, and I feel good for once.

  Mrs. Fields sets Mia on the floor next to a basket of toys and then turns her attention to me. Dreading every word coming from her mouth, I close my eyes to get my emotions under control, yet again. I feel a warm hand clasp onto my forearm, and when my eyes open, Mrs. Fields is holding me. Her arms are tight around my waist and her body is frail. She’s a l
ot smaller than I remember, but I embrace her right back.

  For the first time in my life, I’m feeling what it would be like to be held by a mother. It’s overwhelming and comforting all at once. I’ve needed someone like Mrs. Fields my entire life. I have needed the touch only a mother could give to a child who’s surrounded by pain.

  I hold her tightly and let the tears bubble and fall from my eyes. I release all the pain and sadness onto this woman’s shoulder as she rubs my back and whispers words of comfort in my ears.

  After several minutes, I calm myself enough to pull away. I’ve broken down so much over the last ten days that I’m honestly tired of doing it. My eyes hurt and my body aches, yet for the first time since Presley has died, I feel like I can finally breathe again. Not completely or without pain, but there’s a small sentiment of hope that I will be fine someday.

  “I’m always here if you need me, sweetheart,” Mrs. Fields speaks through her tears and pulls me at arm’s length, looking directing in my eyes.

  “Thank you,” I look down to my feet then back up to her eyes. “I’m… I’m okay.”

  “You’re strong, honey. A lot stronger than you give yourself credit for, I’m sure. When I lost my husband, I was young. I had just celebrated my thirty-fifth birthday, and just like that, a heart attack takes him from me. Then I was left to raise our teenage daughter on my own. So I know how you feel.” She picks up my hand and cups it between hers. “It does get better. You just need to give your heart some time to heal. But I promise, it does get better.”

  I nod in acceptance then move to Mia, who’s completely distracted by a puzzle, and lean down to give her a kiss. When she stands, handing me a puzzle piece, I place it in the designated spot then pick her up in my arms.

  “Goodbye, sweet girl. Daddy will be back soon.” Mia places her hands on my cheeks and leans down to my face, so our foreheads are touching. I pucker up my lips and she does the same then I give her a swift kiss. “I love you.”

  I hand Mia to Mrs. Fields and leave the apartment. One emotional breakdown over; now it’s time to go to work and hope no more tears surface today. I’m so tired of crying. I’m simply fucking tired of it all. I’m just so tired. So damn tired.

  ***

  When I pull into the parking lot, I take a deep breath and release it before quickly walking to the main building and punching in my timecard. The plant manager must have been waiting for me because, as soon as I run my timecard, he’s pulling me into his office. Great, breakdown number two coming right up.

  Rich is an average height man with a big belly and receding hair line. He is also the most impatient, hard-ass I’ve ever worked with. I really like him. I often wonder if this is how Reggie will be when he hits his fifties, but I doubt Reggie will ever let himself get a gut or lose his bad-ass physique. However, the hard-ass persona will undeniably be a Reggie trait.

  “Drake, I wanted to let you know I spoke to your brother, Reggie, after everything happened. I want to assure you myself that human resources are the only people who know what your absence was from.”

  Confused at why he’s telling me this, I nod in acknowledgment.

  “The guys think you were out on vacation for the last couple of weeks. So when they ask, you’ll know what they’re talking about.” Rich reaches his hand up to my arm, but he soon tucks it into the pocket of his jacket.

  “Thanks, Rich. Am I still working in crane three?” I ask, just wanting to get this awkward conversation over with.

  Rich’s smile peaks for a second before he’s back to business as usual. “Yes. Now get your ass to work.”

  I happily head out of the building and walk quickly to my crane. After climbing in the cab, I get myself situated in the seat and fire the equipment to life. And for the first time in ages, I begin to feel normal again.

  Chapter 3

  Drake

  It’s Friday, and this week at work has been better than I’ve originally expected. No one even cares why I’ve been gone or even mentions it to me. I sit in my crane and concentrate on moving metal from one area of the plant to the other. I don’t let my thoughts run away with me, finally feeling somewhat normal.

  After dropping Mia off at Mrs. Fields apartment the first day, I was sure it was going to be weird. To my surprise, it’s like nothing has changed. She talks to me about Mia’s day and doesn’t give me looks of pity or grief, which I’m grateful for. I think it’s because Mrs. Fields knows from personal experience how I feel. She knows how much harder it is to move on with life if you always have to see the looks of pity coming from everyone around you.

  After lunch, I head to my car to put my lunchbox in the trunk and check my cell phone. Darcie’s number has been blowing up my phone, making my heart freeze inside my chest. Darcie is watching Mia for the day while Mrs. Fields goes to an appointment. She knows I can’t check my phone during the day, so why hasn’t she called the plant directly? My gut instantly drops to my feet. I can see I’ve already missed six calls from her. Something horrible has happened. I can feel it.

  I swipe my finger across the screen and listen to her phone ring on the other end. An eternity passes by before she picks up and I immediately hear Mia sobbing in the background. “Drake! Oh, my God. You need to get home!”

  “Why? What’s happened?” I scream into the phone and start to climb in the front seat of the Chevelle.

  “The DEA is here. They’re tearing the house apart, looking for drugs. Jake’s probably going to get arrested. He started beating the shit out of them.”

  Anger slams into my heart as I fire the Chevelle to life and fly out of the parking lot. “I will be there as soon as I can.”

  I punch the accelerator to the floor, propelling myself forward. I have no idea why the hell DEA agents would be raiding our home, and right now, I really don’t care. I just need to know if my baby is okay.

  It takes no time to get to our street, and from three blocks away, I can see police cars everywhere. The street is flooded with cars and officers are surrounding the house. Reggie pulls up behind me and we both start running up the driveway when we’re immediately stopped by DEA agents.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Reggie’s face is flushed red as he screams to the officers holding us back.

  I’m trying to look for Mia. Breathing a sigh of relief when I see Darcie holding her on her hip. She doesn’t appear hurt. My anxiety lowers slightly knowing Mia is okay.

  Before I know what’s happening, Reggie is placed in handcuffs and ushered to where Jake is sitting, also handcuffed and sitting on the ground with police surrounding him. Some of them are battered. Damn! What the hell is going on?

  I stand frozen as I watch Reggie argue with officers while Jake smirks with pride. I then quickly shuffle to Darcie to take Mia out of her arms. I give her a once over, looking for any sign of injury, but she’s fine.

  Just when I’m about to ask Darcie why the DEA is here, Jeremy opens the garage door and walks to the Challenger. When he pulls the backpack from his trunk, I feel my world once again getting pulled out from underneath me.

  “There’s nothing in the house. Here’s what you’re looking for,” Jeremy says and is soon handcuffed with the rest of my brothers.

  This is not what I’m seeing. I am not standing in the middle of my driveway, hearing my brother confess to being a drug dealer. I am not seeing packages of heroin scattered on the concrete. This has to be a nightmare. Jeremy wouldn’t do this to me or to any of us. It’s when his eyes connect with mine that I know. With that one glance, Jeremy’s admitting his guilt. I’m angry. I’m worse…I’m outraged.

  I toss Mia into Darcie’s arms and scream, “What is this? You’re a fucking drug dealer?”

  My body is boiling with rage. I can feel the hate traveling its way over every inch of my body, making my muscles rigid and taut. As I step to Jeremy, the color red is blinding my vision. I don’t see anything but red. Nothing else exists except for the overpowering urge to annihilate Jeremy. I want to d
estroy him. I want to plow my fist into his face then wrap my palms around his throat and watch the life escape from his body. I want to KILL him!

  Presley’s dead body flashes into my mind—the crimson color of her blood is everywhere. There’s so much red. On my hands, soaking through her shirt, painted across her skin…it was everywhere.

  Then Carter’s face invades my thoughts. Could Jeremy be working with him? The night Presley was killed, I really don’t remember what Jeremy was doing, but I do remember coming out of the house seeing him and Carter in a heated discussion. Mother. Fucker!

  Reggie instantly recognizes my furious state and tries to keep me from moving. He begins speaking, but all I see are his lips moving. Nothing else is registering other than the unrelenting fury toward my brother.

  “Are you the other supplier? Were you the other dealer working with Carter?” I push my way toward Jeremy as the only thing I’m focused on is killing him. Police officers swarm me, but I push against their human wall. “You asshole! You fucking killed her!”

  As swiftly as I can, I force my hands and arms though the army of officers. If I can just get one hand on him, just get one hand to grip around his neck, I will squeeze the life from his body. I push harder, yet the more I press against the wall of officers, the more resistance I meet. I just need to get close enough to touch Jeremy. I ram my arms forward with all my strength before they are being yanked behind my back. The cold steel of the cuffs cuts into my hot, angry skin.

  Pain begins to register in my shoulders, but I let it fade as the hate takes over once again. I shout through my rage, still only seeing red. I need him to feel every ounce of loathing I currently possess. The hate he put inside my body. “You goddamn fucking piece of shit!”

  My body has a mind of its own as the hate replaces all the hurt. For the last few weeks, my body has been aching from loss, but that is all gone. From the moment Jeremy came out of the garage, every ounce of loss has been replaced with hate. I loathe my brother. That I’m completely sure of. I despise Jeremy.