Holding Her in Madness (18 page)

Lil’s eyes were lit up, looking into Nick’s as he opened an umbrella for her, his eyes never leaving hers. Smiles were painted across both their faces.

All I felt was the agony ripping me apart from the inside out.

“The motherfucker loves her.” My coarse, pained voice echoed through the car. “Jesus fucking Christ. He fucking loves her as much as I do. He fucking loves her.” Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes as the suffering ache swelled and twisted inside me until I felt myself about to break. And then I do. I broke. I shattered all over again, realizing that this was it. I was truly losing her. Fuck, I’d really lost her.

I had a brief respite from the pain weeks ago. I’d talked myself into believing that Lil and I would both live on forever, never happy again, neither of us possibly ever feeling any release from the hurt of having to live this life without one another.

I couldn’t swallow the fact that she’s actually happy. It tastes more bitter than the six Vicodin I had to chew up and swallow before I could drive away—nearly fifteen minutes after the happy, soon-to-be-married couple and their realtor drove away.

I stepped out of my car and walked around the house, peeking into every fucking window. There are eight in most fucking rooms of the house. And I look through every fucking one of them, forcing myself to see Lil, swollen belly and all, making a home for her family.

I stared into the kitchen and pictured my firecracker with a blond-haired toddler making supper for the wonderful Nick, waiting for his arrival home from a long day at work. I stood there, soaked to my skin from the rain, watching them in my mind, well past sunset.

I shook myself from my reverie once I realized that I was sober, that my pills had almost worn off. Then I made my way back to my car, popped six more Vicodin, and headed to the nearest liquor store for some vodka.

I went ahead and bought myself four bottles of vodka, knowing I was going to need every fucking drop to get through the day that lay ahead.

Now, here I am the next day. I’ve planted myself into a corner in the far left of balcony of the church. I see Mrs. Shaw walking quickly down a hallway at the right of the sanctuary. My eyes shoot to the altar where I see Mr. Shaw straightening Allen’s tie before patting his shoulder, and I hear their laughter bounce throughout the church.

Fuck yeah I know where my firecracker is at in this building, and I also know that, if Katie and David Shaw are both on opposite sides of the church as Lil, my firecracker is alone.

I don’t think my feet even hit a single step on the way down the stairs from the balcony…that end putting me directly in front of a side entrance of the bridal room she’s in.

It’s now or never. At the very least I know I have to tell her how much I love her. Tell her it will always be her, it will only EVER be her. Am I prepared to raise Nick James’s child as my own? Hell fucking yes I am. I’ll do anything, just as long as I get my firecracker back. I just want Lil back…

I see a dark-haired girl rounding the corner, and my hand wraps around the doorknob, quickly turning it. Stepping inside, I quietly shut it behind me. When I look up, a gasp gets lodged in my throat.

She’s sitting on a white satin bench at a makeup table thingy. She’s so fucking beautiful. Goddamn it. She’s so fucking beautiful. Her long blond hair has braids all in it, all of the braids and blond curls meeting in a twisty thing at the nape of her neck. My mouth fills instantly. I’d do anything in the fucking world to lick the nape of her neck, taste the skin and tiny hairs there just one more time.

She’s in nothing but a corset, a fucking corset and garter belt that have my knees buckling so fast I’d hit the floor if not for my death grip on the doorknob my hand is still grasping.

Her corset and garter belt are the color of candle light. It’s sewn up her back, the V lacing getting wider towards the top where it stops right under her shoulder blades. Her shoulder blades are moving, and it triggers my eyes to move towards what her hands are doing.

She’s slipping a stocking up her left leg. My cock swells so fucking hard that my dress slacks are cutting off circulation to it. But I don’t care. Shit, I barely notice it. She’s started slipping up her other stocking, and once she begins snapping it to the garter belt, I step forward.

Every fucking declaration of true love, devotion, life commitments, and vows you whisper to your one and only, your soul mate, are on the tip of my tongue when her gasp stops me mid step and I fall back against the door I’ve yet to move from.

She reaches over, grabbing a small box from the hundreds of boxes scattered around her, and sets it in her lap. I see her reflection in the vanity mirror and watch as her face lights up, smiling from ear to ear

The fuck? This motherfucker is good. Congratulations, Nicolas James. Yet again you’ve won. If you don’t make her happy, I swear to Christ I’ll fucking wrap my hands around your throat until you choke out your last breath.

I grasp the knob in my hand and turn it to leave, defeated. But she tucks a handkerchief in her garter belt before she lifts a silver chain up, studying it, her smile growing. She giggles as she clasps it around her neck.

I stay frozen in place, half outside, half inside the door, soaking up every single last second I can with just me and my Lil…alone.

I know I should leave. I hear Mrs. Shaw’s voice much closer than I am comfortable with. When my eyes catch Lil’s reflection in the mirror again, I know I won’t leave as soon as I see her eyes fill with tears and uncertainty. I watch her sad face in the mirror as she looks down at what she holds in her hand.

And finally, by the grace of God, in this church that my girl is about to marry a man she’ll never truly love, I get a reprieve from the excruciating pain that lanced itself through me yesterday and has held me prisoner since.

She slides her hand towards the hair gathered at the nape of her neck and I witness three things occur all at the same time. Her eyes meet her reflection in the mirror, she slides a beautiful comb into her beautiful hair, and she whispers to her reflection, “And my day has come.”

A sense of resolution blankets the air around us.

She doesn’t know that, when she said those five words aloud, my gut and soul heard five completely different words.

As I sneak out of the bridal room and back up the balcony stairs, her unspoken words resound throughout me over and over.

I did not hear, “And my day has come.” All I heard was, “I’m sorry, but goodbye, Leo.”

I hide myself once again in a left corner of the of the church’s balcony, giving myself a bird’s eye view of the bride and the bride alone.

As soon as the wedding march begins, the doors to the sanctuary open. My eyes immediately land on her.

Son of a FUCK! I could die a thousand horrific, vicious deaths and not feel an ounce of the pain I feel when I see my firecracker in her wedding gown, the gown she chose to marry
HIM
in.

At least until my eyes catch her entire body freeze and falter, her hand gripping her father’s arm tightening.

I smile, knowing two things. One, there isn’t a single fucking person in this church beside me, Lil, and David Shaw who knows that, when Lil’s daddy steps forward, he’s having to fucking carry my girl down the aisle. And two… Congrats, Mr. Shaw. You just shoved your beloved daughter into marrying a man she’ll never, EVER love as much as she loved the man you chased from her life.

Butterfly Kisses, the song, pours out into the church.

I can’t help but cross my eyes and mutter, “Fuck this shit.” I’m done.

I had my chance in that bridal room, and just like every other time I’ve had a chance, I let this one slip through my fingers too.

I walk down the stairs and away from the church’s balcony then slam church’s front doors open, stalking towards my car.

As soon as I get inside my car, I swallow a handful of Vicodin.

I don’t even count them. I open up a new fifth of vodka, chugging it down, and make my way to I-220.

However, just before I merge onto the ramp that’ll get me out of this piece-of-shit town, my eyes land on a pawn shop that’s lit up. The sign promises to ‘Make your girl’s April wishes come true. April is the month-long Diamond Sale’.

Now…something happens here. Right fucking now in this second. It’s insane. It is completely without logical thought or cognizant process… Yet it still happens. I become an emotional masochist…as well as more fucking high than I’ve EVER been in my whole life

And mark my fucking words, I’ll NEVER admit that shit again. Well, I may never admit that shit again.

I try, fucking shit I try, to walk into the pawn shop without falling on my face. I’m so damn high I can barely keep my eyes open, much less walk.

I bloody my palms and fingertips against the gravel drive and concrete stairs. Hanging onto the brick of the building before I fall, I push the doors open and luckily catch myself against a glass jewelry display case.

“Good afternoon, sir. Is there anything I can assist you with today?” The guy’s Windexing and toweling clean the bloody mess I smear across the jewelry display cases. Once I find myself staring at a whole lotta diamond engagement rings, I pull out my wallet and toss it into the Windex guy’s face.

“Sup, man? You do know it’s fucking rude as FUCK to treat me like I’m a damn homeless bastard… Right?”

“I’m sorry, Mr.”—he looks at my driver’s license before tucking it back in my wallet—”Phillips.”

“Right. Look, dude. All I need is a diamond ring. You think you can fucking help a guy out so he doesn’t fuck up asking a girl to marry him?”

This whole damn building is on a tilt-a-whirl. I question exactly how much Vicodin I’ve taken, and for the first time, I briefly accept the fact that I may have finally taken enough to fucking take me out.

Motherfuckers like me aren’t that lucky though.

Easy is just something we never do see in the cards that life deals us.

I wake up in my Camaro in the fucking middle of the hood. No, seriously… I’m in the airport motel parking lot, people. There are a few fucking crackheads asleep on the hood of my car and another one in my passenger seat.

How the fuck did I get here? Why the fuck am I here? And Jesus Christ, did this guy take a shit in my car?

I slap him across his head and his damn hat flies off. He has fucking scabs and shit all over his scalp. “Dude, get the fuck outta my car. Right now, motherfucker!”

His head bobs up and down while his eyes are trying to meet mine. “Man, we’re friends. We talked all night about your girl, Lil the firecracker, that she was lost and you came here looking for her. You fuckin’ woke me up pounding on my damn door, man. Cryin’ and shit.”

I look at the door he’s pointing at.

Son of a bitch. It’s the room Lil and I stayed in that night. FUCK!

“Shit. Look, man. I’m fucking sorry. I really am. I don’t even know where the fuck I’m at or what the fuck I’m doing. Just, I gotta head home, all right? Get out, and get your friends off the hood of my car.”

“You got that shit fuckin’ right, boy. You don’t fix this shit of yours up quick, you ain’t never gonna find your home. Quit lookin’ for shit in the wrong places. You ain’t gonna find the love of a woman when she’s off lovin’ another man. Look closer to home, boy. Always love the things that sparkle, especially if they sparkle with the love they have for you.”

He pats me on the shoulder before smacking my face. Then he lays on the horn, scaring the crackheads off my hood. We both laugh and meet eyes. Even though his head’s still bobbing like a bobble head, I reach out and shake his hand. “Thanks…ahh…”

He grins, not a damn tooth in his head. “Richard.”

“Thanks, Richard. I appreciate your company. And your friendly words, too. I really do.”

“Leonard, I appreciate the two bottles of vodka you gave me. And the decent conversation.” He laughs and goes to step out.

“Richard, my name isn’t Leonard. It’s just Leo. I don’t know why I told you that, man. Sorry.”

“Ain’t calling you that sissy-ass name, boy. Leo… Pshh, if I was you, I’d use Leonard. Now, that’s a good strong name.”

“Ahh…yeah, all right, Richard. Well thanks again, sir.” I wave, shaking my head and laughing, then head in the direction of my new home—with Sparkle. I can’t fucking believe I told that old man about Annalise.

Damn, I was high as FUCK!

As soon as I pull up at the apartment, I walk straight in. Annalise has TLC’s ‘Creep’ playing on her new CD player, and she has on one of my t-shirts. It hangs down to maybe the middle of her thighs. Her hair is piled up on top of her head and she’s scooping chocolate chip cookie dough with one spoon onto a cookie sheet and eating the cookie dough from another spoon in her other hand.

And she’s dancing her little ass off, popping her hips to the beat of ‘Creep’.

I couldn’t wipe the smile she puts on my face off if I wanted to.

I walk up behind her with a ring box in one hand and slide my empty hand up her thigh.
Fucking no panties? She’s trying to get herself fucked is what she’s doing.