SCARS (4 page)

              It was slow and tender as he gathered me up in his arms and pressed me close.

              He stole my breath.

              He made my heart stop.

              How was it that song went? It’s in his kiss. And he was kissing me like I was the only woman on earth for him. He kissed me like I mattered. Like I mattered
to him.
Like I was his Queen of the Damaged and he was my King. For as long I lived I would never forget that kiss. And I would never forget him.

Chapter Five

              I walked through the door walking on air. I could smell that Ellen had been cooking and that the table had been set. She came running out of the back of the house grabbing me by the arms and shaking me.

              “Where the hell have you been? You had me worried sick. Why are you looking at me like that? Why aren’t you answering me? I swear to God if he laid single finger on you I’ll kill him.”

              “If you’ll kindly stop shaking me he did nothing to hurt me. Although I’m positive you’re not going to like what I have to say.”

              She let go of me. “Just sit down and eat, I’ve got your meds laid out and everything.”

              There was salad chicken marsala and crisp California style veggies. With water to wash down all the horse pills with. As she joined me she began to eat. Very. Slowly. Suspiciously. Like she was sitting on the Supreme Court of Romantic Relationships and she was about come down hard and fast on me.

              “Before you say anything about him being a good influence or a bad one. A safe choice or a risky one, let me remind you that you’ve sat on the couch and cried on my shoulder many, many times over the ruined relationships and broken hearts you’ve had over the years.”

              “None of my relationships started with me talking the man in off the bridge either. I know you think you know what you want but are you really in a place to be making such decisions.”

              “How many cheating, married, pill popping losers have you drug in and out of this house over the last fifteen years? Not once did you ever hear me chanting I told you so.”

              “You seem to have forgotten that you’re relationships haven’t been the best either. I haven’t judged you. Ever.”

              “Then why are you fighting me now? I’m happy. I’m falling in love. Why are you begrudging me this? Why are you telling me I have no right to any of it?”

              “Do you not remember what your time with Kevin did to you? How devastated? You’re really starting to bloom after all of this time. James Keegan has problems. Massive ones. Ones that could cast a shadow on that bloom. You’ve worked so hard to get to this point I don’t want to see you hurt all over again.”

              I understood her concern. And usually, it ruled the day. Thinking for myself was dangerous. No in the sense I couldn’t live my life as I saw fit. But there was a part of my heart was a bit reckless. The firm belief that the heart wanted what the heart wanted was something I often held fast to.

              But even my heart wanted James it was obvious, to me at least, that my best friend felt both threatened and concerned by it. It was completely understandable. Less than forty-eight hours before James had stood on the natural bridge not fifteen minutes away teetering on the brink of madness, of life and death and I had been out there with him, tugging him back to the side of the living.

              I looked at Ellen. I tried to see it from her point of view and understand where she was coming from. James was a hard man to really know and her knowledge him was extremely limited. But out on that bridge and that day I had seen his heart and soul. And what I’d seen was an incredibly damaged spirit. Love wasn’t a panacea but everyone deserved to love and be loved in return.

              I knew, in spite of her protests to the contrary my friend understood that. That she inherently understood that. And on top of it all she believed it to her core. Her protestations were born out of a judgment that I might have rendered to her in the same situation. A romantic relationship born on that bridge was difficult to justify in the face of logic.

              Love wasn’t logical.

              Love did not follow rules.

              Love could make you reckless and stupid. Maybe I was being reckless and stupid but I didn’t care. Love made you do that too. Not care what other people thought about your actions. I rarely acted like that since everything with Kevin. Now? With James? There was something in his eyes, in his touch that called to something that hadn’t been reached in years. My heart. He had breached these walls long before the morning on the bridge.

              “I wish I could explain to you what James means to me.”

              “I understand perfectly well what he is to you. You have a huge heart, Rayna. I don’t want to see it broken. You see someone in pain and you want to fix them. It’s just your nature. But this isn’t Chyna, your cat. And it isn’t me, someone who you’ve known for twenty years going through a bad stretch. James has been going through a bad stretch his whole life. You could really get hurt.”

              “Isn’t that true of any risk you take in life?”

              Ellen looked at her wits end with me. I could understand why. Neither of us were being reasonable. She had some valid points. But so did I. Neither of us cared I think, though, we felt the way we felt about the issue and that was pretty much that.

              “I don’t want the t.v., Ralphie. I just want you to be happy.”

              “I know that. I know you don’t want to see me hurt. And there’s a chance that might happen. I feel the way I feel about James. Just let this play out. Alright?”

              She sighed and hugged me. “God knows I’ve had my share of mistakes come through here on a regular basis, you more than welcome to yours.”

              I laughed as we pulled back. Tears in my eyes. “I’d rather have you on board with this, but I understand why you’re not.”

              “You want my blessing, when you think he can pass the test bring him around me. We’ll have dinner or something.”

              I knew her words weren’t empty or hollow. But the deck was stacked against James in her eyes. He was known as an alcoholic and a brawler. Who had shortened relationships.

              What Ellen didn’t know or understand was that he suffered from severe abuse as a child, ran with a rough crowd and ran to the military only to experience the horrors of wars. He was scarred inside and out. Suffering from depression, flashbacks, and PTSD. He wasn’t some caricature of pain, he was the definition of it.

              Alcoholism was something I feared tremendously.

              My father was one. And what he had done to me? Inexcusable. But I didn’t share any of that with anyone. Not even Ellen. And we were thick as thieves. And certainly not James. That night had been about peace, love and understanding.

              “Come on, let’s eat.”

              She and I sat down at the table and to dinner. Ellen was always there. Would always be there in good times and bad ones. She might not always understand but she would always to her best to be supportive. And for that I would always be grateful.

***

            
 
The next morning I woke up and stumbled to the dining area and turned on the lights. I took my glucometer, lancets and strips and sat down at the table and pierced my finger and squeezed the blood to the surface. Inserting the strip into the glucometer I waited for the blood droplet to show and then placed the strip to my finger and the blood seemed to race to the top of the strip. I waited a few seconds then the reading, 126. It had been a month since my test had revealed that I had Diabetes. This was the lowest it had been. I then set about preparing my breakfast.

              It was the same every day.

              Oatmeal.

              Two hard boiled eggs.

              2 pieces of 100% of whole wheat toast.

              A bottled water to take all my freaking medications and wash it all down with.

              Once breakfast was over I set my dishes in the sink and got dressed to run in the December air.

              Tucking my key into my coat pocket and zipping it up I stepped out of the house and decided to do the trail run again. I wasn’t usually much into trail running. I kept it in my routine to keep the damage to my knees as limited as possible. Like a few days before when I’d found James on the bridge something about the woods called to me like a siren leading the sailors to their rocky shores, and to them I went.

              But unlike that day there was a sense of peace all around me. As I cut through the woods I felt as if the bridge was calling to me again. And like the few days before I ran to it stopping at its edge. What greeted made the doors of my heart blow open and shatter into a million little pieces.

              On the other side, standing in his denim coat and jeans in the brisk cold air was James. He stood there stoically, as if he’d been waiting his whole life holding a bouquet of white roses with a single red rose in the center. He said nothing. He simply stood silently, beckoning me with his presence, as if to say, you don’t have to be afraid I am here to catch you if you fall.

              Gingerly, and with much trepidation I stepped out onto the bridge. I was so afraid that I closed my eyes and took a breath. I opened them. There was something different. James had stepped out onto the bridge. Roses in one hand, the other outstretched.

              Still, said nothing. I took another few steps, forcing myself to look his eyes and not down at the terrifying drop. I closed my eyes and took another breath. When I opened them James was even closer. I took another step, only this time he closed the gap with a few confident strides. We stood at the middle of the bridge. He hand me the roses and in relief a few tears slipped out.

              He brushed them away and handed me the flowers. He took me in his arms and kissed my forehead. Resting his chin on my head we stood there in silence. Not in my whole life had I felt as safe and protected with and by a man. Kevin and my father and shattered that and it seemed in that moment James was laying his scarred hand my own scarred soul and healing it with his touch.

              It was safe to say. I was falling fast. I was falling hard. And I was without a doubt falling love.

Chapter Six

              James and I sat at Denny’s enjoying one another’s company over a couple of cups of coffee. He looked tired. Ragged. Like maybe he hadn’t slept well. I reached out and covered his hand with mine.

              “What is it?”

              He said nothing at first then finally confessed. “I tried to sleep without drinking. I drifted off around four in the morning and enjoyed a visit from my very much alive father’s wife beating ghost.”

              “I’m sorry. Want to talk about it?”

              “Not particularly.”

              “Did you drink?”

              “No. I got up around five thirty and put on the coffee and lit up a smoke. Managed to sleep another half an hour and had a cup of black coffee and smoked another cigarette. Tried to sleep when my thoughts to turned to you. What you might be doing. I know the trails in the woods of a cross training tool for you. That you coming to the bridge a second time in three days might not happen. But I got a shower. Changed. And headed to the florist and got the prettiest arrangement I could think of, and went to the bridge on the off chance you might be there.”

              “How in the hell did you get Mel to open her shop at five o’clock in the morning?”

              “It was six. I didn’t smell like alcohol and she said I looked like a lovesick puppy dog.”

              I laughed.

              I noticed neither of us had pulled our hands away each other.

              Then outside there was a loud BANG of a car backfiring. The atmosphere between us changed abruptly. James went stiff and pale and as still as stone and staring straight through me as if I weren’t there.

              “No…no…no…no…” he muttered to himself.

              The sound of another BANG sent him diving under the table. He was huddled under there. Shouting orders in a code I didn’t understand. I shook on the inside. In the kitchen plates and cups crashed to the ground. I slipped underneath the table. His hands were over his ears. His eyes were squeezed shut and he was now screaming incoherently.

              I was afraid, but I did not flinch. I knew what it was to be where he was. The intensity of his own fear and his seemingly powerlessness in the face of it made him this flashback’s pawn. He was alone in his own mind. Unable to stop the onslaught of emotion in the face of his memories, he had no handle, no foundation to anchor himself.