Learning to Forgive (The Learning Series) (35 page)

After that moment, the ice is broken and introductions are made. Savannah watches Red’s every move and even tries to follow her into the spare bedroom while she changes into some borrowed clothes. Sylvia comes down and makes an amazing breakfast of pancakes, eggs, and bacon, and after we eat, it’s time to explain some things to her. With any luck, her trust will return. But it’s going to be hard for her, especially after I almost got her killed.

We sit at the country style, wooden table drinking coffee. Sylvia knows the drill so she takes Savannah to bathe while we talk. I can tell our serious expressions terrify Red. We’re rigid and on guard because we’re breaking all the rules by telling her about The Reform and why I’m in Mobile. I’m just as terrified. I don’t know if she’ll run further away from me or decide to forgive me.

“I want you to listen to what I’m about to tell you, Red. No questions until after I get done. I won’t repeat what I’m about to say, and I would appreciate if you wouldn’t bring it up after today.” After she nods her head, I tell her about my groupie mother and her abusive boyfriends and about my running away to live on the streets. I tell her about my early stages of fighting and the gangs I was associated with. Then I tell her about Carly. “She was my first love. Creamy Mocha skin. Beautiful light eyes. She captivated me. We met when I was sixteen and she was fifteen. She found me selling shit to her friends, and when I offered to sell her some weed, she refused with sass and turned her back on me. I was intrigued, so I came around her turf just to see her as much as possible, and soon, we formed a relationship. Her father didn’t like me and the feeling was mutual. He was a drunk, so you can imagine what she went through. They had a fight one night and he hit her. Needless to say, I made sure he needed dental work. After that, she left with me and we made it together on our own as best we could.

“I started running drugs for the local gangs and eventually got addicted to not only them, but also the money. I was able to rent a one-bedroom apartment that was really a piece of shit, but hey, it was better than freeloading from friends or sleeping in shelters. A few months later, Carly got pregnant. As her pregnancy progressed, so did my addictions, and with that, she started to lose faith in me.” I still see that last fight in my mind and it cuts me deep, knowing I was more interested in snorting that last round than comforting her. “We had a huge fight one night, she left, and I proceeded to get high. I remember the feeling of fear and the worry I felt and it surpassed my high. So instead of giving her until morning to cool off like I usually did, I went after her.”

Before I can continue, I have to compose myself. My entire body wants to stop thinking, remembering, and talking. “I found her… or her body, anyways. She’d been raped and was bloody from where they slit her throat. I don’t remember much after that but seeing her attacker laughing with two other guys and cleaning his knife. They spoke a different language. It was like killing an innocent woman was a fuckin joke. I remember my sorrow vanishing and pure anger taking over. After that, I blacked out with rage and just attacked. My fighting skills paid off I guess because I killed the fuckin bastard with my bare hands after I shot his goons.” She doesn’t need to know the details of how I bashed his head in by constantly slamming it into the dirty asphalt, but only after I stole his own knife and stabbed him several times.

“That’s when I was dragged off his dead body by the cops and they hauled me away for first degree murder. I didn’t find out the name of the fucker until a few days later. It was Vladimir Polesky, brother to Nicholas Polesky, a Russian drug lord here in the states. He was in
N’awlins
doin’ business for a trade, and the sick fuck liked torturing innocent women.” No more words will come out because it’s smothering me, but my eyes don’t leave Red. We stare at one another and a calmness settles inside me with every second that passes.

“Lyric was taken to trial and found guilty of murder. Not only of Vladimir’s, but Carly as well.” Massey says and Blaire’s eyes widen. “Polesky has always been on the government’s radar, and as soon as he found out about his baby brother’s death, Lyric only had a number of days until he would end up dead as well. That’s when the Reform stepped in. Instead of being hauled to sit in a prison cell, Lyric, as well as other runaway delinquents, were sent to be trained. Not just in weaponry, but in respect and obedience.”

“Like military school?”

Massey’s brow furrows and he looks down into his coffee cup. “Nothing like military school. The Reform is about building men out of boys, changing future criminals to something useful, and then each are sent on missions when we feel they’re ready. Unfortunately, if they show any signs of disrespect, the boys are severely punished, and sometimes killed. No loss for the government. Either way, they rid the world of a possible fuck up. Well, that’s how command sees it, anyways.”

“Oh, God!” Red covers her mouth and her eyes meet mine. Understanding dawns as she reads them. “You’re here for Polesky? Like bait?”

“Exactly like bait. He wants me dead just as much as I want him dead.” Looking at Massey, I silently ask him if I should continue or stop. He nods slightly, so I turn back to Red. “When I was released, I was put back in
N’awlins
to draw him in. I fought in the ring to get my name out there. Soon, another local drug leader took me under his wing as his bodyguard, and when the time was right, I had to take his place. Word of Polesky sending a man to Mobile for payback got back to me, so I stayed close and ran my drug shipments from both ports.”

Her eyes narrow, and she looks down at her now cold coffee.

“Red, look at me.” With hesitation, she does, and I can tell her reaction won’t be good after these words leave my mouth. But it’s time. “I supply the majority of drugs in Mobile. It was my drugs your brother OD’d on. My runners sold it to him.”

Her face loses all color and her breathing becomes erratic. “I don’t understand. Y-y-you’re some kind of a drug lord?”

“No. I’m acting as a drug lord to draw in Polesky. He’s lost his Columbian contacts and I have them. It was only a matter of time before he came, and somehow, he’s figured out you’re my weakness. He put a hit on you. I tried to keep you out of this when I walked away. But it did no fuckin, good.” I reach across the table to grab her hand. “And I’m so… so… so fuckin, sorry, Red. I didn’t want this to happen.”

She quickly stands and puts her hand up. “Stop… just stop. I can’t hear anymore.”
She takes a shuddering breath
.
“I can’t comprehend any of this or
you
right now.” She turns and walks out of the room.

My eyes stay focused on the door she left through, begging her to walk back in. To tell me she believes me and forgives me. But after a full minute, nothing happens and I know I’ve lost her.

“Give her time, man. She’s just had a fucked up night and day,” Massey says as he stands up, walks to a kitchen drawer, and pulls out some keys. “Here. Take the bike. You’ll get there faster. Besides that, your car looks like shit with all those bullet holes.”

“Thanks, man.” Forcing out a laugh, I feel every fucking piece of my heart breaking. Without another word, I grab the keys and walk out the door with Massey promising me he’ll watch out for both of them until I return. The question is, will she want me even then?

“The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is an attribute of the strong.”

~Mahatma Gandhi

Blaire

Watching Lyric leave from the upstairs window, a part of me wants to follow. But the other is happy he’s going, even if I don’t know exactly why I’m staying with strangers. Everything he told me makes sense in a way, because it explains his private behaviors, and why he didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger that night in the alley. However, it all seems too unbelievable. Am I really in love with some undercover drug cartel leader? Is there really a place that trains young boys to be killers? And most importantly, did he sell my brother the bad drugs that took his life? My stomach hurts with that thought and I feel sick.

Stepping away from the large window, I look around the teal and purple bedroom. It obviously belongs to a girl who loves bright colors. Beauty pageant trophies and crowns decorate the white bookshelf along the wall beside the door. Pictures of a happy brunette with braces growing up from elementary to graduation are taped to the mirror along with photos of the entire family of father, mother, and two teenage daughters. Both have dark hair and brown eyes, and are smiling and look completely happy.

Happy? What is that exactly? The last time I can remember being sincerely happy was when I lived with Lyric. Then my mind sees Savannah and our moment this morning. A smile forms across my face because she does make me happy. The fact that she’s here and safe is still a mystery to me, but I’m too exhausted to seek answers right now. And too scared that I’m not good enough to take care of her like she needs. With the weight of the world on my shoulders, I walk to the full size bed with its lime green comforter decorated with purple polka dots and lie down. My mind can’t wrap around what happened from last night to this very second. A headache is starting to creep up my neck so I close my eyes hoping to relax. Maybe after some sleep, I’ll wake up ready to face the knowledge I learned a few moments ago, and I’ll be ready to accept it.

When I wake, it’s around lunchtime, so I make my way down the stairs to face the people who took Savannah in and to find out how she got here. Lyric’s friend Massey sits on the couch with his computer. He knows exactly when I walk in the room, even if I am hiding against a wall behind him. “Come on in, Blaire.”

With hesitant feet, I step around the corner and he closes the laptop. “Where’s my sister?” The term still feels weird on my tongue and sounds strange to my ears.
Sister
. Even though I’ve known for a month now, but I’ve never spoken it out loud unless I was talking with the lawyer. I never told my new friends or my therapist. We’re still not that far into our sessions. The only person I wanted to know was Lyric. But that was the night I found out and he pushed me away. With that thought, another question forms. “Who’s Anya? Or Mandy? Or whatever her name is?”

Massey shows no surprise at me asking this. He takes off his wire-framed glasses and rubs the spot between his eyes as if he has a headache. Maybe he’s buying time before he answers. I don’t know or care. I need to figure this shit out so I can make a plan.

When he does look at me again, I know I’m not going to get much out of him. He has the same closed off look Lyric wears. “That’s classified. But I will say this. Stay away from her. She’s someone you shouldn’t mess with.”

Before I can dig for more answers, I feel someone latch onto my left leg. Looking down, I see a smiling Savannah.

“Bwaire,” she squeals happily.

Warmth and happiness set in and I smile. “Vannah.” When her arms go up, I don’t hesitate to pick her up and cradle her to my body. I love the smell of her innocence and youth. The strawberry scent of her hair matches the color. I could hold her forever I think.

“We’ve told her about you for months. Since we got her really. But we never thought she’d warm up this easily.” Massey’s wife Sylvia speaks as she brings in four cups of hot cocoa and places them on a wooden coffee table that sits between the brown leather sofa and matching love seat. She pats the seat beside her. “Come sit and relax.”

I carry Savannah over and place her down before sitting beside her. “It took her a while to warm up to me and even more so for Scott. I think because he’s always gone on business. She was in rough shape and my heart broke for her. After a few meals and hugs, she started to speak some. Nothing big, but two worded sentences. Huge improvement because she never spoke a word, and the only time we heard her voice was when she woke with night terrors.”

Too many memories of living in that house with that monster surface. She’s just a baby and I pray he didn’t molest her like me. If I jump to unnecessary conclusions, I’m liable to break myself from guilt because I wasn’t there for her.