Rock My Heart (Luminescent Juliet #4) (20 page)

Chapter 29

~Gabe ~

I’ve lived on hope for too long. Reality has raised her ugly head, and
I’m
face to face
with her, accepting and despondent
all at once. It was a good ride, but the shit is over.

Jail sucks. The food
sucks. The two-inch thick mattress sucks. The idiot who snores like a bear in
the bunk below me sucks. The boredom sucks. But what has sucked the most the
last three days—because this is my third offence and possible felony so I had
to wait for a court arraignment for bail to be posted—is the shit whirling in
my head.

 
The possibility of prison. My father knocked
out cold. Sharon hiding guns. My spot and future in the band. But mostly April.
I can’t get the sight of my father shoving her by the face to the ground out of
my head. My brain plays the image on repeat over and over again until I want to
punch the shit out of the cement wall next to my bunk. If she hadn’t been with
me, the fucker would have never touched her.

Now Monday morning, I’m
dressed in my orange jail finery and trussed up like a hog in chains that loop
from my wrists to my feet as they take me from the jailhouse to the courthouse.
As a guard opens the door to the courtroom, I catch a glimpse of Romeo, Justin,
and April sitting in the front row.

My jaw hardens. Why the
fuck
would
they bring her? The sooner I get over
that
shit the better. For both of us.

I stare straight ahead
at the far wall as a guard removes the chains from my wrists and from my feet.
Without looking at anyone, I proceed to the table where Justin’s lawyer waits.
The same lawyer we used when I beat the shit out of Allie’s
ex
.

The judge comes out and
within less than twenty minutes, the facts are laid out—including my past
misdemeanors. Each time the prosecution adds another layer to the proceedings,
it’s like a punch in my pride. The list makes me wonder how I can have any
pride with a rap sheet like this because there’s more. There were times the
police weren’t called. Many times I got away with the release of my temper.

My head hammers as the
prosecutor drones on about how I’ve proved I’m a danger to society. And because
I’m such a danger, he tries to add my juvenile rap sheet to the proceedings.
Justin’s lawyer argues. The judge doesn’t let
that two pager
in
.

Once the prosecutor is
done, I plead guilty in a matter of fact voice, and my bail is set.

The sentencing will be
forthcoming within a month.

Yesterday, during his
visit, the lawyer tried to talk me in to pleading not guilty, and talked and
talked and talked. He believes it’s the only way to get a reduced sentence. I
refused. I did the shit. Like I can stand here and act like it didn’t happen or
that I had a blip of insanity. My pride may get me killed one day—probably sent
to prison on this one—but I’m not a lying actor.

They chain me back up—I
stare at the wall—and transport me back to the jailhouse. Knowing Romeo or
Justin is posting my bail—more money that I’ll owe—I don’t get too comfortable,
just sit on the top bunk with my back against the cement, ignore the idiot
trying to talk with me from the bunk below, and try not the think how prison is
going to suck way worse than this.

Within the hour, the
guards are processing me for release. In my mechanic clothes once more, I walk
out with Justin, who is giving me the third degree about being stubborn and
pleading guilty.

I am guilty
fuckhead
. Seeing as how he just bailed me out, I keep the
retort behind my teeth.

My head about explodes
as I realize whose car is waiting for us in the parking lot. Just my luck.

April drove.

Jaw tight again, I get
in the backseat with Justin. April turns around with a soft smile and a, “Hi.”
I nod and turn toward the window. I can almost hear her disappointment,
certainly sense it coming from the front seat.
  

Justin continues
droning about my guilty plea, explaining how I need to help the lawyer with
everything possible at my sentencing, so I get the least punishment possible. I
stare out the window. Justin starts pleading, reminding me that a third offence
can warrant two years prison time. I stare out the window. Romeo joins in,
tells me to get my head out of my ass and listen. I stare out the window.
 

There’s no fight left
in me. I can’t turn the tide on my inevitable future any longer. A fucked up
life and prison should have been stamped on my forehead the minute I was
born.
 

Justin and Romeo are
both shouting at me as April parks in front of the tattoo shop.

I finally turn to
Justin. “How is my father?”

His frustrated
expression changes to a mixture of surprise and blankness.

April twists in the
front seat toward me. “He got out of the hospital yesterday. A concussion and
broken jaw,” she softly says. “Sharon and I have been in contact over the past
few days. She….well, she feels responsible since she hid the gun from Jim in
the first place.”

Fuck.

I close my eyes,
drawing in a harsh breath as
concussion
and a broken jaw
reverberates through me. As a kid, I never truly wanted to
hurt my father. The only thing I wanted was for him to leave me alone, then
leave Sharon alone. Instead, I put his ass in the hospital because I couldn’t
control myself. I let the air caught in me out in a fast rush, escape out of
the car, and fly up the stairs to my apartment.

Inside, I lean forward
across the counter and press my forehead on a cupboard.

This morning, during
the arraignment, and even the trip home, I believed in the illusion that by
giving up and giving in, I could ride this out. That illusion is falling to
pieces. I draw in breaths, trying not to imagine my father in pain with Sharon
going nuts by his side.

The image crashes into
my skull again and again.

A knock sounds on the
door.

I. Cannot. Deal. With.
This. Shit.

The knocking grows
louder, more persistent.

I beat my head against
the cupboard, wishing I could knock myself out.

She starts yelling,
“Gabe!”

Hissing every swear
word known to man, I push away from the counter and whip the door open.

“Hey,” April says, her
face twisted in worry.

I lean on a kitchen
chair. I can’t seem to stay upright without help.
 

She comes in shutting
the door, troubled eyes sweeping over me.

My gaze roams the
apartment, anything but on her. Then I’m noticing how clean it is. My head
snaps back to her. “You?”

She nods. “And Allie.”
She steps closer. “Gabe…”

I run a hand through my
hair, resisting the desire to pull the strands out, then hold the back of my
neck, trying to squeeze the tension out of myself. She stands mere feet from
me, wide eyed and worried, beautiful and perfect. So perfect, it’s starting to
hurt to look at her.

“Listen, April,” I say
to the floor. “I don’t think things are going to work out between us.”

There’s a long pause of
silence before she says, “Don’t do this.” She comes closer forcing me to meet
her gaze. “Don’t equate letting me go with doing the right thing. It’s not
right.”

I drop my hand and
laugh despondently. “The right thing? Didn’t you hear? I’m dangerous. Being
with me is dangerous. And I’ll soon be a convict. I’m no good for you. I know
it. You know it. The whole fucking world knows it.”

“No.” She shakes her
head as her expression grows imploring. “That’s not true, even Romeo admitted
this morning that we should be together.”

The warmth in her
pleading eyes almost has me grasping for her.

My jaw turns hard,
harder than it felt in court. Though a tight knot forms in my chest, I ignore
it. “Romeo? Who the fuck is Romeo in all this? What does he know? You think
with all the shit going on in my life, I can deal with
you
and
your
shit?
Your fucking whining over your sister?”

She blanches, as if I punched
her. The whiteness of her skin, the shock in her expression, and the pain in
her eyes, make me want to take the words back.

But I don’t. I can’t.

I cross my arms and
sneer, deciding to put the last nail in the coffin, before I’m on my knees
begging her to take me back. “You’re a good fuck. Maybe the best fuck in my
life. A fuck that I wanted to keep around, but the fucking
ain’t
worth dealing with the guilt ridden baggage you
bring. Baggage that might be worse than my own shit.”

My words are like bullets
from the gun of my mouth. They hit her hard until she doubles over, trying to
gulp in air. I harden my resolve and ignore the anguish her visible pain brings
me.

She finally stands, her
look raw and full of accusation. Without saying a word, she stumbles to the
door and slams it shut.

The knot in my chest
feels like it’s going to explode. I want to punch every surface in the
apartment until my knuckles are raw.

Seconds tick by until I
can’t hold all the pain in any longer. A chair flies across the room. The wall
gets a punch. The front of the refrigerator takes a hit. My knuckles
are
raw and blood drips on the floor.
Then before I destroy the entire apartment, I grip the counter, plant my face
on a cupboard, and just breathe.

Chapter 30

~April~

My last group session. Two days from now, I graduate. I could have
skipped the session, since a week after my interview I was accepted into the
clinical program. However, this may be my only chance to see Gabe.
Though I know deep down that he
was trying to push me away, it took a few days for me to get over his cruel
words. He nearly shattered my heart with his cruel words, but as I gradually
acknowledged his intent, I have become determined to make him see reason. I’ve
called him, texted him, and even gone to his apartment. He has not answered my
calls, my texts, or his door. I have considered going to the garage he works at
but that would be the last resort. Yet, I’m hoping he will show up at group.

I know what it’s like to
shut people out. I’m a pro at it. And now I’m being shut out. Though I deserve
a broken heart and definitely don’t deserve him, I can’t help thinking that
Gabe needs me. Ironically, I had been leaving his apartment on the day of the
fight not sure if I could handle being with him. Now faced with the
possibility, I’m desperate to be with him. The thought of his absence in my
life overrides my heart crunching guilt at being happy. But his sullen demeanor
is slicing at my heart, slowly tearing it to ribbons with each
text and call
and knock he doesn’t answer. However, I’m
determined to be as stubborn as he is and refuse to give up. Though there are
times, several times a day actually, when the loss of him leaves me unable to
breathe as sorrow and tears threaten to overwhelm me.

But of course, we are
fifteen minutes into the session and still no Gabe.
 

Instead of letting that tear at me, I
force myself to concentrate on the group.
It has
changed over the last month.
Misha has
ceased giving me the evil eye, though her glare still carries contempt. Chad
continues to be upset about his stepfather’s rules, but is also not as nasty as
he was in the beginning. And Jason has been contributing a little more each
session, if only opinions.

I previously considered
Jeff a quack but I’m slowly comprehending how he subtly gets us to talk and
keeps things moving by forcing us to share, causing us to be more comfortable
with one another. And I imagine within a few more months the group members will
learn to trust one another. Reflecting on past group sessions, I can’t say I
totally understand how Jeff did it, and that worries me. As someone who desires
to be in his position one day, I should be able to see how he is maneuvering
us. Some of his machinations, like forcing us to share something each week or
do something outside of group, are clear to me. However, not all of his actions
are comprehensible to me, which once more leaves me wondering if I’m pushing
myself into a mold that I’ll never fit in.

Jeff is droning on
about how helping others not only builds self-esteem, but heals us too.
Perhaps, the droning is his secret, leaking into our subconscious and gradually
changing our view of the world. Though, at the moment, just Jason appears to be
intently listening to Jeff. Misha stares off into space. Chad stares at Misha.
And I’m preoccupied with staring at the door.

However, even if Gabe
doesn’t show, I’ve decided to come clean. It seems that if one of us has the
balls to speak, it opens up new doors for everyone. Knowing I haven’t
contributed much to this group, I would like to give something before I leave
it. And I’m slowly coming to terms that hiding my past isn’t solely about
keeping me from depression. It has also been about being afraid of how people
view me.

So when Jeff asks me
first if I have anything to share, I draw from a well of courage deep down
inside of me that I didn’t know existed until recently, and start a condensed
version of what I shared with Gabe over a week ago.

About a third of the
way through my rendition, the faces around me turn shocked, half way
through, they turn absolutely stunned. I’m almost finished and feeling wrung
out when a light knock sounds at the door. No one notices except for me.
Instead, my pause gets their attention. When another knock sounds Jeff
reluctantly gets up. The sight of Gabe’s stony face causes my heart to
accelerate. Jeff quickly directs Gabe to his seat, sits down, and gestures for
me to continue.
 

But my attention is
drawn to Gabe. He sits with his arms crossed, looking at the floor and ignoring
all of us. Every cell in my body yearns, to the point of pain, to go to him,
get him to look at me, get him listen.

Jeff clears his throat
and I snap out of it, reluctantly continuing. Though with Gabe here now, it’s
much harder than before. Once I’m done, everyone stares at me dumbfounded, even
Gabe—I suppose he didn’t expect me to share with anyone else.
 

“
Well,”
Misha
says, her tone shocked, “I can understand why you’re
here now.” She looks at me normally for once—meaning without her normal malice
or contempt. “I’m truly sorry to hear about your sister, but how—how do you get
over something like that?”

I draw in a deep
breath. “You don’t. You just attempt to live with the guilt the best you can.”

“
And try
not to hate yourself,” Jason says quietly, which has me wondering for the
umpteenth time why he is here.

The crease on his brow
has me saying, “That’s true. How—”

“It’s not like
you
killed her,” Chad blurts.

“Well, no…” I squeak
then trail off, not sure how to respond to that, nor wanting to.

Gabe turns to Chad, his
face hard and intimidating. “You really should shut the hell up.”

Gabe coming to my aid
gives me a spark of hope.

Chad leans back against
his chair, grumbling, “Just trying to help for once.”

Misha’s
pierced mouth twists in concentration. “I don’t
think that’s going to help. I’m sure everyone questions what they could have
done different after a…accident, but to have had the person asked for your
help...” She sadly shakes her head. “But sometimes help isn’t enough.”

Gabe’s brows rise at
Misha
or more accurately her thoughtfulness.

“That took a lot of
guts to share with us, April,” Jeff says when there’s a lull in the
conversation. “And though I do understand why you’ve felt guilty, you also have
to have the courage to forgive yourself.”

Never having considered it that way, I
try to wrap my head around his idea. It almost seems too big for me to process.

“
I know
what it’s like to feel guilty,” Jason softly says, then takes a huge gulp of
air.

We all turn to Jason.

Gaze on the floor, he
says in an almost whisper, “When I was a kid, well eleven years old, I was over
my friend’s house. He—we both wanted to check out his dad’s gun collection.”

I cover my mouth to
hold a gasp in, fearing what he is going to say next.

He draws in a deep
breath then blurts out, “I accidently shot him.”

The gasp comes out
muffled from behind my hand.

“Holy shit!” Chad says
under his breath.

Jason shakes his head,
his eyes sad. “He didn’t die, but the bullet went into his side and lodged into
his spine. He became a paraplegic, and now—and now I visit him almost every
weekend.”

I can’t help taking his
hand as my eyes begin to tear up. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Jason. I’m not
sure I even—”

“
Dude,”
Chad says, “you were just a kid.”

Jason blinks at Chad.
“And he’s an adult forever stuck in a wheel chair.”
 

“
You
know,” Gabe quietly says to Jason, “you’re not helping your friend by cutting
yourself off from life.” He glances from Jason then pointedly to me as I wipe
tears from my eyes.
 

Misha’s
head snaps to Gabe. “Hey asshole, he never said
he was cutting himself off from life!”
 

Gabe ignores her and
waits for Jason to reply.
 

Jason’s hand trembles
in mine as he asks Gabe, “But why should
I
get a normal life?”
 

Gabe’s forehead creases. “
You’re stuck in guilt and your friend is stuck in a
wheelchair. I’m sure those visits are wonderful.”

“Gabe!” I say as
Jason’s hand trembles more.

He ignores me and
demands of Jason, “You ever go anywhere with your friend?”

Jason shakes his head.

“Ever do anything other
than visit him at his home? Go anywhere?”

Jason shakes his head.

“Do
you
ever do anything?”

“Not really,” Jason
practically whispers.

“So you’re both
invalids. One bullet. Two lives ruined.” Gabe sits back, shaking his head.

I release Jason’s hand
to point at Gabe. “And you’re not just throwing the towel in on yours?
Refusing to play in the band?
Refusing to talk with the
lawyer?” Romeo has been keeping me up to date, or more accurately, keeping me
up on how Gabe has cut himself off from everyone and everything.

Gabe’s top lip curls.
“April,” he says roughly. “I don’t believe I was the one sharing.
My
shit is not part of this group
discussion.”

I let out a huff of
anger and sit back, while his irate eyes drill holes in me.

Jeff, who had been
calmly listening, leans forward, probably hoping to diffuse the sudden tension.
“Jason, first of all I want to commend you for your bravery for sharing that
with us. It must have been difficult, but like April, it took a lot of courage.
However, I think Gabe might be right, though said crudely. Maybe we could help
you think of things you and your friend can do.”

Jason sits up fully as
if getting ready to listen.

Surprisingly, Chad gets
the ball rolling. “Maybe you could go to a game like baseball or basketball
like the Pistons?”

Jeff nods. “That is a
terrific idea, Chad.”

Misha says, “I’ve seen
paraplegics at the bowling alley. That could be fun.”

 
Spitting mad at Gabe, I mumble, “The movies.”
Lame but it’s all my angry brain can come up with.

Gabe says, “How about
you research some shit, like Google it.”

We all stare at Gabe,
obviously offended at how rude he is being.

 
After a long lull of silence, Jeff studies his
watch. “Okay, well then, we’re over our hour by almost thirty minutes. But this
has been a very productive session. I want to thank April and Jason for their
bravery, and let’s all think of something that could help them for next time.”
He closes his binder. “So we’ll see everyone next week, before our two week
break for Christmas.”

Gabe is out the door as
soon as Jeff finishes. I rush out to catch him, cooling my anger each step of
the way.

“Hey, can I just ask
you one thing?” I loudly ask when we’re both on the sidewalk.

He spins around. “I’m
getting tired of this shit. Romeo and the rest of the band are up my ass twenty
four seven in between you blowing up my phone and rapping incessantly on my
door. When will you people realize I just want to be left alone? I don’t owe
any of you fuckers anything.”

Ignore his words. Ignore. Ignore.
Ignore
.
I chant in my head, reminding myself he’s spouting hurtful things as a defense
mechanism. But his spiteful words have me blurting out, “Don’t you miss me?”
This wasn’t what I’d planned to ask him. I wanted to ask him something similar
to what he said to me over a week ago
;
if his soul is
still there, though weary and full of shame. Unable to stop myself, I add, “I
miss you. So much.”
 

His hard, twisted
expression falls for a quick second, and I glimpse behind the mask of
resentment he has been showing the world. The stark hopelessness I see slashes
at my insides and tears at my heart, but in the next second, his face twists
back into a mask of ire
.

“Excuse me,” someone
asks from behind me. “Excuse me, April?”

Jason, I realize and
turn.

He offers me a shy
smile. “Could I get a ride?”

My heart does a little
flip and I nod. “Of course—of course you can get a ride.” By the time I turn
back around, Gabe is marching toward his truck.

I watch him until he
gets in the truck, longing a knot in my chest, then turn to Jason. “Ready?”

He glances past me at
Gabe. “You sure?”

“Jason, I’ve been
asking you for months,” I say with the warmest smile I can muster. I want to
follow Gabe, want to beg and plead and throw myself at him. But I want to be
there for Jason too. I dig my keys out of my purse. “I’d love to give you a
ride, especially when it’s this cold.” Then I turn my back on Gabe and walk
Jason to my car.