“Are you kidding me?” I yelled into the phone. “You left me to hang after I took the fall and forgot all about me. And to say you didn’t force me? Do you want to get into it all again? Because trust me, I remember every single word and minute of what happened. Before and after.”
“You promised you’d never bring it up.”
“You promised you’d be there for me. How’d that turn out?”
The phone clattered, and then Cassie came on. “Why are you yelling at Marty?”
“Did you hear our conversation? Do you know—”
“No. I just came in with the kids, and I don’t want them to hear their father shouting. If you’re going to upset him like that, please don’t call again.”
“News flash, Cassie. I didn’t call him. He called me.”
“Oh. Look. I’m sorry things are rough for you. And you know I appreciate everything you did for us, but we’re still in trouble too. It’s not easy for Marty to make a living, plus I’m always trying to shield the kids so they don’t get picked on. At home, some of the parents wouldn’t let their kids play with them, and I was afraid it would happen here as well.”
The angry words died on my tongue. I couldn’t fault her for wanting to protect her children. This was a god-awful mess. But no one seemed to understand or care that my suffering continued. They were all too wrapped up in themselves.
My heart hurt, but it was also curiously light, as if I’d seen the truth. And the truth set me free. “I’ll always be here for you and the kids if they need me, but I’m done being your personal bank account.” I ended the call and sat rubbing my hands over my arms.
Five years after the scars from the accident had healed to the point where they were no longer angry and red, I’d walked into a tattoo parlor and had them covered with colorful ink. Stars, flowers, swirls, skulls, anything, just so I wouldn’t have to see those ugly reminders of everything I’d lost.
Today was another memento, one I knew couldn’t be hidden away or forgotten, no matter how much I tried. And I’d tried before, the survivor’s guilt nearly drowning me. For years after the accident, I’d partied my way through life, uncaring if I even woke up, until I pulled myself out of my nightmare and got my head on straight and my life together. When Cassie told me she was getting married, I was able to be the big brother she needed.
That didn’t work out as well as I’d hoped.
I got myself a beer and downed it. Took out another and drank half of that too. Medicating with alcohol seemed a good way to deal with losing my sister and brother-in-law, even though rationally I knew I hadn’t had them for a long time.
But when was loss ever rational?
I spied the boxes piled high on the kitchen island where I’d dropped them. The first package was filled with underwear and T-shirts. The second, a bulkier box, held two pillows for the couch. I’d decided I wanted soothing colors instead of the plain beige and brown, so I’d picked out some teal and aqua ones.
“You’re a regular Nate Berkus.” I tossed the pillows on the couch, and I had to admit they looked pretty fucking good. Guess those decorating shows I watched in prison paid off.
The next box was small, and I couldn’t tell what was in it but figured maybe it was one of the picture frames I’d ordered off Etsy. I tore off the wrapping, opened the box and—
Bam!
Next thing I knew, I’d been knocked off the barstool and onto my ass. Something trickled down my face and blurred my vision. I wiped at my face as best I could and sniffed my fingers. They were black with a liquid, odorless substance. Ink, maybe. I stared at my black fingers.
What the fuck?I started to shake, realizing this wasn’t a joke. Someone wanted to hurt me. That could’ve been lye or something that would damage my eyes or blind me. Maybe that was next, and this was only a warning.
Even as I got to my feet, still trembling, it dawned on me that I had no one to call, no one who would give a damn if I were hurt or worse. And even if I could’ve spoken to Cassie, she was a thousand miles away in Florida.
I washed my face over and over, but ten minutes of scrubbing with soap and dishwashing liquid didn’t remove all the stain. When I checked my reflection in the bathroom mirror, black still streaked down my cheeks and over my eyelids. I looked goth or like someone celebrating Halloween early.
Great. Just fucking great.
My face raw and burning, I decided to hell with it and flung myself on my sofa, clutching a pillow. I finished another beer and contemplated the entire six-pack. Here I was, free again, with more money than I could ever spend, but I’d never been more miserable. What was the point of anything?
And yet…I refused to let these fuckers win.
Unwanted tears burned my eyes, and I pressed the heels of my hands to them, angry that I’d let it all get to me. I’d made my bed, chosen my path, and this was the consequence of my decision. Maybe I deserved it for being so stupid to think I could trust anyone.
Even my own sister.
Enough with the self-pity crap. My head hurt, so I popped two aspirin, and remembering my discussion with Angel Gabriel outside earlier, I pulled the business card from my jeans pocket.
Gabriel Sachs, Personal Protection Services.
