Dear Life(109)

Lying back into the pile, I surround myself in Eric, aching for his touch, his deep, rich voice, that mind-altering smirk of his. Just one more hug, one more kiss, one more I love you. If I knew it was the last, I would have made it the best, never letting go.

“Unchained Melody” by The Righteous Brothers plays on repeat, Eric’s favorite song to sing to me when he was feeling playful. Kneeling on the ground, hands clasped in front of him, singing, “I need your love,” like a scene out of Top Gun but instead of singing “You’ve Lost that Lovin’ Feeling,” he would serenade me with his horribly off-key voice, making me giggle when he would grab me by the waist and force me to sway with him around the apartment until the song was over. It was no wonder I loved this man so deeply.

“I’ve hungered for your touch.” The lyrics echo through my head. They ring so true. How I’ve hungered, practically starved for one more touch, to feel his rough jaw against mine, his strong arms wrapped around me.

“I miss you,” I cry into his jersey, my head now resting against his suit jackets.

This. Hurts. This is going to be much harder than I thought. A sobbing mess, tears streaming down my face, shaky hands doing all the work, I open my first trash bag and start stuffing Eric’s clothes inside, a sob wracking my bones with each and every garment I sniff and say goodbye to.

Drowning in Eric, despite the pain that rips through me each moment, I attempt to move forward.

You’re moving forward, you’re working toward your new future.

I repeat those words over and over in my head, convincing myself I’m doing the right thing.

JACE

“Why didn’t you come talk to me?” I ask Ethan who’s sitting in an ice bath from the waist down reading on his phone. Despite his young age, his knees are strained every day from squatting and standing, so an ice bath is a necessity in his world.

He doesn’t look at me when he answers, “I couldn’t. I just fucking couldn’t.”

“Why not? Did you think you were just going to get away with not saying anything and go on your merry way?”

Putting his phone down to the side, he pinches his brow. “I don’t know what I was thinking, man. I fucked up. I was thinking with my dick. I’m sorry. Despite what Rebecca decided, I should have told you.”

“You’re damn right you should have told me. Shit, man. I sat there, crying to you about what she planned to do and you said nothing.”

The last thing I want to do right now after a long game is talk to Ethan about all this bullshit again but the first step to healing is forgiving. I need to find it deep within me to forgive him, because dammit, I want to move on. I have to move on.

“She asked me not to say anything.”

“You’ve known her for a few months, you’ve known me for years, so how does she trump me? You’re the only brother I’ve ever had.”

“Fuck.” He rubs both his hands over his face. “I’m sorry, Jace. I don’t know what else to say. If I had another chance, I would suck it up and tell you instead of cowering in the corner, hoping you never found out.”

His sorry doesn’t truly hit me like I wanted it to, but it’s not because it isn’t sincere, it’s because forgiving is a lot harder than I expected it to be. It’s not like he says I’m sorry and all is forgiven. I’m still bitter and upset.

“Ethan, do you still believe she should have the right to take back the baby she gave away? This is not about me, and it’s not about you. This is about a little girl who has been placed in a warm, loving home. And yes, she is little, but do you think it is right to rip her from that home, give her to her birth mother, who might change her mind in the future and give her up again? Whether it be emotionally or physically? It’s got to be about Hope. Do you think I have a shot here of changing her mind?”

Looking me dead in the eyes, Ethan nods. “Yeah, I think you have a shot, man. I haven’t liked the woman she’s become since she first came after Hope. Bro-code, and all. You just have to approach it properly.” So he’s taken off his lust-covered glasses now?

“Will you help me?” I ask, hope billowing within me. Is my friend back?

With kind eyes, he nods. “Yeah, I’ll help you.”

CARTER

“Hand me a pen. I don’t have all day.”

“Hold on.” I turn to the man assisting us. “Can you give us a minute?”

Standing from his desk, he nods. “Take your time.”

“What’s this about?” Uncle Chuck asks once Jimmy leaves. “You better not be second-guessing yourself.”

“I’m not.” Not sure how to approach the topic, I just come out with it. “You’re not going to hold this over my head, are you? Like everything else? You’re not going to try to barter with me later on?”

Sitting back in his chair, Uncle Chuck twirls the pen in his hand and looks me up and down. “Getting cold feet?”

“No.” Yes, but no way in hell I’m going to tell him that. This new dynamic still feels weird, a little uncomfortable, and mostly unreal given the drama that’s existed between us for so long.

“Don’t screw with me, boy. I know fear when I see it and that right there,” he points to my eyes with his pen, “that is fear.” Leaning forward, he asks, “What’s holding you back? Failure?” I don’t answer him, not wanting to admit that he’s got me pegged. “Failure is a part of life. Without failure you never learn, and without trying, you’re never given the chance to fail. So what? If this doesn’t work out, you move on to the next idea. Don’t shortchange yourself because you’re afraid you won’t be able to bring this idea to fruition.”