RECTIFY: A REDEMPTION NOVEL Page 6

  Pouring us each another glass of wine, I delicately cut into the pie, and plate up each person a slice.

  “Do you have ice cream to go with that?” Riley asks.

  I gesture to the kitchen. “You know where everything is. I can’t stand mixing hot and cold temperatures, so I just assume everybody has the same taste as me.”

  “Presumptuous much?” Holly teases.

  “I have wonderful taste, thank you very much.”

  “Is that why you're giving that looker the run around?” Riley interjects.

  I glare at Holly while answering Riley. “I'm not giving anyone the runaround. And I didn't say I didn't find him attractive.”

  Holly stops her full spoon mid-air and smirks at me. “I knew you found him attractive.”

  “It doesn't change anything. I still don't want to see him.”

  “You've made that very clear. You just haven't told me why.”

  “It was so long ago, it doesn't even matter,” I lie. “We just had a falling out, and I don't feel like rehashing it.”

  “You're older and time’s passed,” Riley chimes in. She sits back down, a bowl filled with vanilla ice cream accompanying her. “Can't you just get over it? Move forward?”

  Her questions aren't rude or intentionally hurtful, but they sting anyway. I should get over it. It's been so long, I should've moved forward when it came to so many things, but I've never been able to.

  I don't know if it's my personality or because my actions had such a life-changing effect on my future, but those months with Jay played a bigger part in the shaping of my life than I ever wanted to give them credit for.

  Not to mention I still have a friendship to repair with Hendrix and do have a mutually respectful relationship with my daughter's father. Any word of Jay anywhere around me is sure to blow anything positive between us all out the water.

  I can't continue on this endless cycle of hurting myself and others. And giving Jay the time of day will absolutely do that.

  “Jagger and Hendrix hate him,” I blurt out. “If they find out he's nearby who knows what they'll do.”

  “It's funny though, he hasn't mentioned anything about wanting to see them.”

  “We’re a package deal.”

  “Maybe you need to change that.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You need to separate yourself from those two men.” She licks her spoon clean before putting it on her empty plate and pushing. “They've moved on without you, and you're still tiptoeing around their feelings. You've sacrificed life to accommodate both of them. Enough is enough.”

  She’s riled up defending me, and even if I don’t agree, it’s such a warm feeling to know she has my back. “I hurt people, Holly. It's not that easy,” I remind her. “I’m lucky over the years, we’ve been able to be as close as we have been.”

  “Everyone has hurt someone Sash, and you always seem to dismiss that they’ve hurt you too.” She’s exasperated. “I'm not saying it’s tit for tat, but people apologise and move on. They have, but you.” She points at me before continuing. “Can’t seem to let anything go long enough to see the that the world is waiting for you.”

  Riley rubs in between Holly’s shoulders, trying to alleviate her girlfriend’s tension as Holly takes a long sip of wine. I prepare for her to lay the truth on thick, the moment of silence typical as she gathers her thoughts. “I will never understand or agree with why you’re so hard on yourself. After all this time, everyone is forgiving themselves, finding their ground, finding their happiness. And the only person who’s getting left behind, is you.”

  Overwhelmed by her frank words, a mini-war wages inside of me. My natural instinct is to try to find the words to explain to her how imperative my connection to Jagger and Hendrix is. Especially for Dakota. I want to give her my version of that story. Justify my stance. Defend myself and show her I’m right, but the realisation that what she says is somewhat true, has me shutting down.

  Jagger has found Emerson, Hendrix chose Taylah, and I’m here holding on to both of them like they have the only key to my happiness. So, instead of unravelling the truth and getting to the bottom of my issues, I take the easy way out. “Dakota loves them. It’s for her.”

  The lie is easy and less complicated. It’s what I tell myself, it’s what I will myself to believe; instead of facing the mess of memories that seem to insistently infiltrate my thoughts, decisions, and future.

  “Dakota loves them.”

  “I’m not asking you to do anything that would hurt her,” she clarifies, even though she shouldn’t have to. I know what she’s asking, I’m just playing dumb. “You can still cut the cord, and be civil.”

  “I’m not doing that for someone like Jay.”

  “It’s for you,” Riley chimes in, offering her laid back nature to avoid Holly and I getting into a heated discussion. “Maybe he’s just the reminder you need to let it all go.”

  I wish it were that simple. Letting it all go. If the roles were reversed, I would be telling my friends the same thing. Encouraging them to grab life by the balls, and stop letting it pass them by. But no matter what my head knows, my heart feels something completely different.

  What I tell myself isn’t logical, but up until right now, it's worked for me. Those two men are my family. We fight, and we make up. It’s tiring, but it’s real, and together they make up a big portion of my life that I can’t let go.

  They’ve always been there, regardless of our dysfunctional existence, they have gone above and beyond when it comes to Dakota and I. I will always feel like I owe them, for both the pain I’ve caused them and the love they’ve given us. So, I muddy up the boundaries and use Dakota’s connection to two men that mean the world to her as the excuse to let myself be hurt by their happiness. To let the guilt be a permanent presence in my everyday life, and convince myself I am the lucky one to have them still able to tolerate me. Forgive me. Love me.

  Unlike what Holly is suggesting, I’m their burden, they’re not mine.

  “Where’d you go?” Holly interrupts.

  I shake my head as if it’s possible to ignore my repetitive trip down the rabbit hole. Showing off my very skilled avoidance tactics, I simultaneously walk and talk.

  I mentally take note to talk to Claire about everything Holly and I are talking about. Even as I go on with the charade, I hear the little voice in the back of my mind telling me to break this habit. Reminding me I’m not always the problem, and my needs don’t come last- no matter what my past mistakes are.

  With hands full of dishes, I leave the table and begin to clean the kitchen. I call out to Holly and Riley, but the lack of eye contact means I don’t have to give in to their scrutiny. “I don’t know how we got on to the topic of Drix and Jagger anyway. We were talking about Jay.”

  “Even though I know what you’re doing, I’ll let it go for tonight,” she concedes. “Tell me about Jay.”

  “It’s an open and shut case.” I shrug nonchalantly. “I don’t like him. I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to talk to him.”

  “Thanks, but I already got all that the first few times you said it. I’m going to need more.”

  “Aren’t you forgetting about Max?” I ask, trying to deflect. “You’re acting like this could be anything but professional. But besides my obvious animosity towards him, he is taken.”

  “From the way he was asking about you, if there is something with Max, she was an afterthought.”

  Her observation grates at me, somewhat surprised that he’s as selfish as ever. “Awesome, a taken man who looks at other women,” I drag out sarcastically. “A real catch.”

  “Care to share why you hate him so much?” Riley pipes in. “I’d hate to miss out on all the man-hating.”

  Looking up from the sink, my gaze finds theirs. “He hurt me, and I don’t want to play nice, and pretend everything is okay just because we’re adults. He’s one person I won’t do that for.” My voice wavers with emotion. �
��I know I’m fucked up, and complicated, but I’m getting there. I’m trying to do right by myself, and for all the shit I often put myself through, Jay isn’t one of them.” I take a deep breath, and say the next part with so much conviction it overwhelms me. “I owe him nothing.”

  They both stare at me with sympathy I don’t want. Lowering my head, I avert their pity. I focus on the dishes and try to regulate each shallow and painful breath.

  The minute I saw him, every memory associated with him was conjured up from the dead; the crushing weight of how much trust I gave Jay and how hard he threw it back in my face, is just as painful to bear a second time around.

  Everything moved so fast with Jagger and Dakota, I didn’t really ever let myself deal with the consequences of his actions. But here, and now, as a grown woman; I’m standing in my kitchen while my friends have a front row seat to my vulnerability. Finally acknowledging with crushing realisation that he did more damage to me than I could ever do to myself. He destroyed me. Everything I ever believed about myself became real and inescapable, because of how insignificant Jay Evans made me feel.

  I can’t go back there.

  * * *

  Sluggish, and feeling every bit of my age, I roll out of bed half an hour later than usual. After the tense conversation about Jay, Holly and Riley took pity on me and kept the rest of the night light-hearted and jovial. Staying up later than we should’ve, we filled ourselves up on junk food, and sat through one too many episodes of Gossip Girl, courtesy of Holly and Dakota’s never-ending obsession.

  Dragging my feet across my French vinyl floors, I’m surprised to see Dakota up and eating breakfast in the kitchen.

  “What’s happened? Is the world ending?”

  “Ha. Ha,” she responds to my sarcasm. Her eyes still sleepy and movements slow, I know there’s a good enough reason she’s up this early. “I’ve got an early art class today.”

  “Sounds fun.”

  “Once I get stuck into it, it should be.”

  Reaching the kitchen, I check there’s enough water in the kettle before pressing the switch to boil. “Are you still going to your dad’s tonight?”

  “Yeah. Are you coming?”

  “No, I actually have some plans with Grandma, and I don’t want you guys to wait for me.” I pull a mug out from the cupboard that sits just in line with my head. “Plus, you’ve enjoyed sleeping over mid-week lately, haven’t you?”

  “You haven’t come over for ages,” she whines. “And you could always bring Nan. You know she likes Dad.”

  I laugh to myself at the mention of my mum and Jagger in a room together. Even though it’s true, and they get along now, after a lot of grovelling from Jagger; it wasn’t always that way. Not only did her heart break because he was away from Dakota and I for so long, but she mourned the loss of a son, more than his mother ever did.

  When he was released, her acceptance was just as important as mine.

  I’ll see what I can do,” I offer. “But I make no promises.”

  “I know that means you won’t come,” she huffs.

  “Dakota it’s not a big deal,” I reprimand, surprised by her unusual insistence.

  “Tell me what’s wrong,” she demands. “I know there’s a reason you’re avoiding dinner.” Ready to sprout off some well thought out excuse, Dakota continues with the inquisition, not giving me a chance. “Is it because of the fight you had with Uncle Hendrix?”

  “What?” I stammer. “What fight?” My voice is now a higher octave than usual, my brain bypasses surprised and shocked, and goes straight to the supply of white lies I have told to get out of sticky situations.

  “The one that happened at my birthday.”

  “Honey, your birthday was a while ago.” I’m stalling, and she’s going to be late for school. This isn’t the time to share details about one of my many secrets. “Almost two months to be exact.”

  “I know how long it’s been, Mum.” She looks at me pointedly. “And you’ve been weird ever since.”

  “Baby girl, there’s nothing wrong,” I lie. “I’ve just been busy.”

  “Emerson keeps asking about you, which is weird because why wouldn’t she just ask you. You’re friends, right?”

  She ignores my attempts to placate her, refusing to let up on the twenty questions. “Listen,” I shout, pulling her out of her mild hysteria. “How about I come tonight? You’ll see there’s nothing to worry about.”

  Her face perks up at my version of a peace offering, the little worry creases between her brows softening. It brings the whole conversation with Holly and Riley to the forefront of my mind. My life is so entwined with Jagger and Hendrix, it’s impossible to change it. Even the hint of a distressed Dakota has me bending over backwards to please her.

  Sitting with Jagger and Emerson for dinner is one of the very last things I want to do. Dakota is right. Since her birthday, I’ve been avoiding them, the bitter single woman in me not prepared to hang out with them as their third wheel. Watching them actively work to keep their hands off one another, because they pity the empty seat beside me is something I can do without. I don’t want to fake small talk, and I definitely don’t want to sit with Emerson after what went down between me and her best friend.

  But all of that pales in comparison to Dakota’s requests. If me at Jagger’s place feeds into the charade that everything is okay, then that’s where I’ll be.

  6

  Jay

  It’s been a week and after three purposefully orchestrated run-ins with Holly, it’s safe to say her rehearsed rejection means Sasha is very much aware I’ve been asking about her.

  I should be deterred that she’s so opposed to seeing me, but I’m in no rush. Anything worth having is worth waiting for.

  Sitting at home after a morning at the hospital, Max and I discuss the high possibility of Leroy never waking up on his own. The doctors began weaning him off the drugs five days ago, hoping he will wake himself up.

  As each day passes, the probability of burying my brother weighs heavy on my mind. Still in a drugged-up haze, the swelling on his brain has barely gone down, but it isn’t increasing either. If there’s no progress, our next option is to switch off the machines and let him go.

  Max’s gone through a whole box of tissues mourning the man she loves. There’s a huge disconnect between us when it comes to Leroy’s fate. She’s all heart and I’m all logic. It doesn’t help the situation, as we sit in a constant state of tug-of-war. She wants to wait it out for as long as possible, and I couldn’t think of anything worse than leaving him in such a vulnerable and exposed state.

  He lays there with nothing more than a sheet covering his fragile, and deteriorating body. Machines are breathing for him. Drips fill him up with fluid, and tubes wait for it all to come back out. If he could see himself right now, he would be cursing me for letting people see him, stripped of his dignity, so broken, so bare.

  “I know you don’t want to hear this,” I say through Max’s hiccuped sobs. “But you have to prepare to say goodbye.”

  “How can you just switch it all off like that?” she shrieks accusingly.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath. This is about the sixth time she’s had some sort of outburst in protest. “I'm not going to be the bad guy in this story, Max. Not this fucking time.” I push the detailed medical papers to her. “Read it, and come to me when you realise we don’t have any other options.”

  “I don’t want to switch it off,” she begs.

  “He’s not himself,” I explain for what feels like the hundredth time. “He’s not the man you know.” I scrape the chair across the wooden floor. “Even if he woke up, he wouldn’t be the same guy we remember. He could have memory loss, even worse he might be paralysed. He’s a shell of his former self right now. You need to understand that.”

  As her cries get louder, and harder, I find myself in my own personal hell. Rising from the table, I make my way to the door, needing distance. “I’m of
f,” I call out.

  “Where are you going?”

  I don’t bother turning around. “Anywhere but here.”

  I leave the house in a hurry. I’m agitated, upset, and angry. So fucking angry. Not used to all these emotions, I find myself unable to process them. I’m torn between wanting to hit something, wanting to yell at someone, and wanting to consume something strong enough to make it all go away. I want to be numb.

  Surprising myself, I notice I’ve unknowingly made my way to the hospital. Turning into the car park, I wonder why my subconscious brought me here. I hate this place. Its contradicting nature has me feeling helpless and defeated every time I visit. I want the healing. The stitching up. I want the qualified people to make it all better. Instead I can’t help but feel we’re getting the only thing we deserve. Heartache. Misery. The bleak reminders that lives like ours are too hard to save.

  Walking into Leroy’s room, the nurse looks surprised at my second visit.

  “Back again, Mr. Evans?” she queries.

  Unable to muster an explanation, I offer the only coherent word available to me. “Yeah.” I leave her looking at the back of me as I sit on the chair between his bed, and the window.

  Unlike the other times I’ve been here, where my phone is my constant companion, this time is different. I don’t return phone calls, or catch up on emails. Instead I focus on the body that is the only thing left of my brother, and do something I haven’t done in years.

  I talk to him.

  “Hey, bro.” I scoot the chair as close to the bed as possible. I hunch my back and rest my elbows on my knees, while I think of where to start. “It’s me. Jay.”

  The consistent beeping of the machines twists the knife in my chest a little bit farther. The bitter reminder, he doesn’t know I’m here and he isn’t going to respond.

  “I’m staying back at the house, with Max. It feels fucking weird to meet her without you, even being in that house without you…”