Transcending Nirvana (Dark Evoke #3) (23 page)

Sinking to the white, ceramic flooring, the lower section of the shower partition shielding me with frosted glass, I pulled my knees into my chest and wept. I wept for everything, for what seemed like hours. Friendships, stupidity, regret, blame…love…

Choking on sob after gut-wrenching sob, the faint tapping on the bathroom door went unnoticed. “Sis?” That was one thing I admired about Brittany: yes, she was vivacious and outgoing, lively and most of the time, a royal pain in the ass, but she knew when the time came to be serious. She knew when someone needed her to be honest. I was the shoulder, the rock for her ever since we were children, I think we both knew at that point, that it was her turn, because my rock was an eight hour drive away from me, and my heart was still beating ferociously in his waiting palm.

The sound of her feet following my muffled weeping was barely known. It was only when she slid open the glass partition did I realize how close she truly was. “Oh, Kady…” she muttered, and although she was fully clothed and I was buck naked, she still climbed into that shower with me, and squatting down low, she cradled my naked, wet, heartbroken body against hers. The cooing noises breathed into my wet tresses vexed me. Despite that, I was actually able to physically concentrate on something other than the pain…the emotional pain…the pain which I had come to realize was something I couldn’t manage. I needed physical pain to quell my emotional suffering, but that was the old Kady Jenson. The Kady Jenson who had control stripped away from every aspect of her life.

If I went back down that route, everything which Walker and I had worked towards and began to overcome would have been for nothing and once again, Liam would have won, I would still be a victim. His victim.

“Come on…shhh…it’ll be alright, Sis,” she muttered before pulling her fully clothed, drenched body away from me and lulling my head back slightly with a gentle finger beneath my chin. “Do you want to talk about it? Because you know I’m always here, and unlike Mom and Dad, I won’t be pulling out any shotguns…”

Stifling a giggle was unviable. I simply looked up into darker blue eyes than my own, and shook my head.

“Okay, I’m not going to force you, Kady. But I’m not leaving you here in this mess so…” The oxygen in my lungs was held for more than a few mere moments when I heard her reaching for the small bottle of shampoo. Squirting some in her hand she muttered, “It’s okay, it’s normal shampoo, your hair will remain the same color so you don’t need to worry about cosmic blue or pink hair in the morning,” with a laugh.

With my knees covering my modesty as they rested against my chest, my little sister squatted down behind me and made light work of massaging my scalp. Her long nails grazing delicately across the flesh, tearing a relaxing moan from my throat, something I hadn’t felt in hours.

When she resumed lathering my tresses and unhooked the shower head, I tipped my head further back, allowing her to rinse the suds covering my head. “Why are you doing this, Brittany?”

“Doing what, Sis?”

“Looking after me. I don’t deserve it after everything that happened between us, I just don’t…”

I was shushed immediately before any of my thoughtless words were freed. “You are my sister. I will always be here for you, Kady.”

“But what about…”

“No! I’m not listening to it. I refuse to listen to your excuses. It was that man who was never good enough for you which caused us to be how we were.”

Craning my head to face her when she placed the showerhead back onto the hook once again, she asked, “I want you to be honest with me, do you understand? I may be younger than you, but I can read body language so I suggest you just be upfront. And you don’t need to worry, I won’t tell Mom or Dad.” I waited for what seemed like forever for her to ask this weighted question that was burdening us both, as the torrent continued. “Did Liam ever hit you?”

As soon as that question was aired, the flood came and there was no stopping it. Tears of remorse for my family in cutting them from my life, blame, stupidity for justifying it for so Goddamn long, everything, it just came back like a tidal wave and knocked me clearly off me feet as I was made to accept the situation I was in, all over again. What made it worse was as my baby sister consoled me in her warm, loving arms, I heard her tears being freed into my neck, tears that I never wanted shed. Those tears were for me…ones I didn’t deserve because I was too weak to end it sooner.

The torrent continued to wash over us, neither one of us refusing to let go. I held her tighter than I think I’d ever held her at that moment.

“Is there anything else?” she queried. All I could do was simply shake my head into the crook of her neck. Lying once again. “Okay, well we need to get you out of this shower before you end up looking like Aunt Jackie before the Botox.” My body was set free as she reared up, no longer blocking the heated stream like a wall of ice. “You finish getting showered while I get changed. I’ll be waiting for you out here.”

The truth was, as disgusting as it sounded, I didn’t want a shower. I didn’t want to scrub the remaining touches of my lover’s hands over me, cherishing me. I didn’t want to use the Japanese Orchid spa body wash. I didn’t want any of it because it would erase the scent of him, and I would once again be left wondering whether the precious moments we shared together, were even real.

After some time, I finally conceded and showered. Stepping out of the compartment, I slipped the lilac robe around my soaking wet body and wrapped my hair into a towel on top of my head.

“Feeling better?” the voice laced with utmost concern sounded from the foot of the bed. Her silk sage green pajamas created a camouflage in the décor of the room.

Tightly hugging the robe around my body I shrugged. “My eyes are sore as fuck. I think I’ve finished crying one batch, then another follows.”

“I wish I could understand what you’re going through, Kady. But unless you let me in, as your sister, I can’t help you.”

Diving onto the green, shiny comforter adorning the bed, my sister followed suit. She kneeled next to me and clutched my hands in hers in a form of support. “It’s okay. You can take your time,” she encouraged.

And that’s when the table turned. I was no longer the big, protective sister who would jump on a grenade to save her from the explosion if need be. She was the strong one, the supportive one. In those hours which it took to explain every single tiny detail, regardless how small, because one thing I had come to learn throughout this entire journey is, in an abusive relationship, there is no such thing as a small incident. Every incident counts because next time, it could be worse. A backhand across the face one day, a kick in the ribs the next, forceful hands strangling you another, and before long, the Grim Reaper is standing in the corner waiting to take you away, when the man your heart trusted, has successfully taken your soul, and is a hairsbreadth away from taking your life.

“And Walker…how does Walker fit into all of this?” she asked, puzzled and, in her defense, pissed off. “Has he ever laid a hand on you? Because I swear, Kady, I’ll fucking kill them, no one touches my sister apart from me.”

Feeling awkward, I rubbed the flesh across my brow until it was raw, and under hooded lids, I muttered, “It’s something you wouldn’t understand, Brittany, so there’s no point in…”

“Wouldn’t understand? Are you shitting me, Kady McKay Jenson?” She knew I detested it when she used my full name, but just like Mom and Dad, the use of my full given name was a warning that I would be in trouble had I not told the truth, the whole truth, so help me God. I felt like I was on trial. “Kady, I’m an inch away from being a psychiatrist, don’t tell me I won’t understand…”

“Liam took everything away from me, Brittany,” I crossed my legs, Indian style. “He took my decisions, he took my hopes, he remolded me. Anything I wanted to do, I couldn’t because I was too damn scared of his reaction. So…I…um…” How could I say this?

“Just spit it out.”

Deep breath, Kady, you can do this. You . Can. Do. This.

“I began to self-harm,” to say her jaw dropped was an understatement. She crunched her knuckles while her eyes turned black with hatred. “It was the only way I could find a form of control in my life at the time, and Walker helped me through it. He was always there for me and helped me understand it better. Then Liam had me locked up in the hospital, hence why I missed Nan’s funeral…”

“Wait…”––screwing her eyes tightly in an attempt to take onboard everything spoken, she lifted her hand––“back the fuck up…you didn’t attend Nan’s funeral because he…”

“Another form of control, Britt,” I interrupted. “He sliced his hand open, told them that I’d attacked him. I was fed drugs left, right, and center. It’s a complete mess because…” when I realized which direction this conversation was heading, my words faltered. But Brittany Jenson, being Brittany Jenson, was unrelenting.

“Because of what? Kady, I’m not going to judge you.”

I told her about the pills, how I was forced them and lead to believe everything I was witnessing was all just a part of my delusional state. The tough part was telling her about the news Leviton revealed to me only a few weeks ago…

“Regardless of how many pills were being administered, theoretically, I shouldn’t have had enough to carry me over that long…”

Her oval, once lively face plummeted as she shook her head and licked her lips. “I don’t understand…”

“Neither do I. All I know is that, I was in the accident because I was force fed a pill which I should never have had in the first place.”

“But this is Liam we’re talking about. He has money, he has connections. I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew someone who had the capability and the sheer nerve of prescribing those drugs for a certain price…” she spat, and it was like a brick wall in front of me. She had a point. Liam couldn’t have done all of it on his own. Walker and Laurie working with Carriag to save up a nest egg for me, Walker and Liv banding forces in the most treacherous way possible…now this…Everyone needs a partner in crime.

“Now I really don’t know who I can and can’t trust…”

“Well, I’m your sister.” She flounced over the bed, hugging me tightly. “You can always trust and count on me.”

I breathed my thanks into the crook of her neck. Noting my yawned dismissal, she said goodnight, then left me alone, closing the door behind her.

A good ten minutes must have passed with me sitting on the bed, simply staring at the cracked brown leather duffle bag resting on the chaise-lounge. Twenty-seven years old, and every possession I owned was stuffed into a bag no bigger than a suitcase. How pathetic was I?

It mocked me with recollections of what that case held for me. My past, which I once again had to rummage through and bring forward into my present, in a hope of a future…

So, with a hefty sigh, I bit the bullet, shunted myself heavily from the center of the bed, and crawled to the base. The first thing withdrawn from inside was my handset.

Crushed and devastated came nowhere near how I felt when I came face to face with no texts messages and no missed calls. Absolutely nothing. Nada. Zilch. I didn’t know what to expect. Had there been messages and calls, my heart would have shattered further taking my sanity with it. Bitterness would have balled inside my chest and gut, manifesting until eventually, I would hate him more than I already did for doing what he had done and lied to me in the process.

No…I didn’t hate him, did I? I hated Liam with a passion, and that night, in my childhood bedroom with the silver coroner of the full moon spearing into my window, I thanked my lucky stars that I finally had support around me. I was thankful that unlike others who were or had been in my situation, I didn’t need to be aided in embracing female empowerment so they/I wouldn’t fall into the same cycle once again.

Despite those thoughts revolving around my head, the hurt and wounded pride that I felt at the belief that I’d never truly meant anything to Walker killed me. Regardless of all we had been through, he let me go. He didn’t fight for me…for us…and he sure as Hell wasn’t showing me now that he cared.

Goodbye, Gerry
were the final words I’d spoken to him. I don’t know who that statement killed more: him for me calling him his given name, or me, for listening to my head instead of my heart, and taking the power to do what needed to be done, and just leave.

Anger surged through my being as suddenly as a crash of thunder in the heart of a storm, and before I could stop myself, I hurled the phone against the wall, shouting as I did so, as though vocalizing the degree of my anger would help make the impact of the technology smashing, worse.

Then I allowed myself to crumble, leaving what remnants of clothing the duffel held in its place on the cushion to be tackled tomorrow, and curled up into the center of the bed. Wailing into the pillow, I hugged it to my crestfallen body, imagining soothing fingers threading through my hair, and a certain Irish folk song, circling my mind.

“Kady…Kady…
KADY
!”

I woke with a start. The person screaming my name perched on the side of my bed with warm hands sitting on my shoulders. When I fluttered my eyes, tears continuing to streak down my checks and wet my lashes, I threw myself into his arms, sobbing, as he held me closely. I felt his heart thundering beneath his pajama top against my cheek as he gently rocked us.

“It’s okay, chickpea. Daddy’s here.” The sound as he kissed the top of my head seemed so much louder than usual, before resting his chin in their place. “I’m here,” he repeated again. A few moments after I gathered my bearing, I was asked if I wanted to talk about it.

That was the one thing Mom and Dad told us when we were kids: ‘Talking about your nightmares reminds you that they weren’t real’.

If only they knew that the hand around my throat and the other diving under my panties, in a bid to force himself on me, wasn’t a simple nightmare…it was real. It was a living nightmare. A Hellish memory.

Licking my lips, I shook my head and snuggled back down, wrapping the robe around myself, while Dad covered me with the satin comforter.

His tall, slim frame halted at the doorway, his salt and pepper hair all ruffled from sleep. “No one will harm you, chickpea. We’ve just got you back, and I respect the fact that you don’t want to talk to your mom and me about what happened, and we won’t force you. But we are your parents. We love you; we would die for you and your sister.”

“I know, Dad,” I sniveled; balling my fist under my chin, the salty residue from my wailing was more of a cold paste on the back of my hand.

“And what’s more,” in those three words, I heard his voice change, it was determined, it was truthful…it was a parent finding the strength to lift a car off their offspring. “I would kill anyone who ever laid a hand on you. To you, I may be past my time, Kady. But if he comes here, he better have a body bag in the trunk of his car.”

Even through everything––the sensation of the weight and sullied, tarnished hands on my body from my dream, my lashes wet, leaving the arch of my cheeks and just beneath my eyebrows damp––I still managed to crack a gratified grin.

A few weeks ago, Liam had told me that Dad had a problem with gambling just to cover his own ass. I was ashamed with the thought of my father, Marcus Jenson, becoming such a selfish man. I was wrong. The Marcus Jenson, 6ft 2” worth of intimidating male standing in my doorway in his blue stripy pajamas with a universe of love and adoration reflecting in his eyes, was the man who would kill for his family, never risk anything to lose them.

“I know.”

“Good. You get some sleep; we have things to do tomorrow. I love you, chickpea.”

“I love you, too, Dad,” I yawned.

“Sleep sweet, half-pint.”

I smiled, “Sleep sweet, Daddy.”

I awoke to the smell of bacon, and instead of my mouth watering from the heavenly scent, it was my eyes which were left to water. Why did everything remind me of Walker? I didn’t know how much more I could take.

The comforter was kicked off my body, only to find my lilac robe which I’d slipped on after my shower, and slept in all night, disheveled and gaping open. My hair, having renounced blow-drying it last night, was wavy and a little frizzy, still, nothing which couldn’t be easily fixed into place with a few clips and a hair elastic.

After taking care of my morning routine, I sauntered back into the bedroom from the en-suite, that damn bag mocking me once more. But I had no choice. I couldn’t refuse to touch or open the thing simply because of one person. For the first time in so many years, I had my family around me, and no man was going to stand between us, and if he did, I knew they would catch me when I fell.

Hastily swapping the robe for the black fitted shirt with faded jeans, I made myself presentable, before pulling my hair back into a messy bun. Dusting on some make-up to make me feel a little more alive, I then made my way down the stairs.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Mom greeted, standing over the range, the sound of grease spitting away in the pan making my flesh raise in goose bumps.

“Morning,” I smiled.

“Bacon?”

“Pass. Have you got any granola and yogurt?” All three sets of incredulous eyes turned to me, silently gauging an explanation. “What?”––I raised my shoulders––“I want to start eating healthy.” I answered, uncaring of any opinions my loved ones may had been telepathically conversing.

My healthy breakfast choice was placed in front of me when Dad muttered around his eggs, “Your mother’s working today, Brittany’s busy, so I’m taking the day off work and we’re going to buy you some proper clothes.”

“Proper clothes?” I asked, affronted, my gaze skimming leisurely down my attire.

“Yes, we can’t have you always in jeans. Where did you get them from? Wal-Mart?”

“Umm…” I scoffed. “Excuse me, but I have lived for eight years without you, your money, or this house. I provided for myself…” Wrong––Liam had always provided for me, but still…

“And look where that got you.” I simply gaped with tears burning my eyes. Noting my reaction, his fork was instantly set on his plate, before shifting his chair over the limestone flooring of the integrated kitchen and dining room. The warmth of his aged hands scooping mine up and holding them apologetically had me blinking back my blurry vision. “Chickpea, I’m so, so sorry. Please forgive me. I shouldn’t have said that, I didn’t mean it. I’m angry at myself. I want to make it right, please. Forgive me.”

“You want to make it right?”

“Yes,” he muttered instantaneously.

“Then don’t judge me by my mistakes,” my voice broke. “Do you know how much courage it took to finally leave and then come here and ask to come home after everything that happened?”

“I’m sorry, Kady. You’re right. I won’t say anything that debasing again, I swear, but I do want us to go and get you a new wardrobe of clothes. Okay.”

Sucking in a deep breath through my nose, I refused to answer and mulled it over. It was when he cocked his head into my peripheral vision, his graying hair flopping over his brow slightly, and his laugh lines refusing to stay dormant as his aged flesh began sagging, that broke through my resolve. His lips curled. “And when we come back, we can have a quick game of basketball like years ago…deal?”

“Deal,” I grinned. “But your ass is going down old man.”

“I can assure you,” Mom lifted her fork and pointed at us from across the table, “your father still has the stamina he had in our twenties…” she winked in his direction.

“
EW, EW, EW
…” Brittany and I heaved in unison. “Too much info, Mom, too much info…”

With Brittany occupied with her voluntary work at the care home, reading to the elderly, and Mom in work, Dad and I were left alone to do what my dad did best…flash his credit card in department stores.

I was in the changing room, trying on yet another fitted cocktail dress with red suede heels, when, “I’m so proud of you,” emanated through the white paneled, barn-like, changing room door.

I was tackling the zipper up the side of my body when I asked, “Why?”

“Because you’re strong…”

Stepping out to the large room with a couch in the center, the surrounding walls covered with mirrors, Dad gasped before setting his hands on his knees and pushed himself up from the lavish couch.

Dropping my focus and hanging my head was an instant reaction. I watched in my peripheral vision as his black Italian leather shoes gradually came into focus. His finger coaxed my chin upward. “You’re beautiful and strong, Kady McKay…”

“No,” I blinked, forcing the lump in my throat back down to where it came from, while my head shook. “I’m not. I was––”

“Was?”

Sighing, I rounded the man before me and lowered myself onto the spiral couch in the heart of the room, where he was once sitting. My fingers were knitted in my lap. “Walker was the one who made me stronger. We were both damaged, both shattered, but somehow, those pieces slotted together.”

“Wait, Walker? Who…I thought it was Liam…”

The look of sheer confusion on his face had me sniggering inwardly. The situation was one huge, hot mess. I wriggled my toes in the heeled sandals, checking them out again. They really were pretty. “You have no idea how confusing it is, Dad. You really have no idea––”

“Then tell me. Let me in, chickpea.”

I wasn’t ready to let anyone in. The person I’d let in had torn my heart from my chest, and concealed the true knowledge of what I thought I possessed, in the shadows. “Don’t rush me, Dad, please. I will in time. Now,”––the lavishness of the sofa left my behind when I shunted myself up and press my hands to my hips––“What do you think?” I gave a small twirl.

“As gorgeous as ever,” was his answer. “So we have four cocktail dresses, four daytime dresses, pants, blouses, sweaters, skirts, shoes…anything else my daughter needs?”

Walker…

“No, we’re done. Thank you, Daddy.”

It felt odd driving back to the house with the top down, the breeze blowing through my hair and my dad waving or offering a nod of acknowledgement to runners, dog walkers, and even simple people on their lawn watering their shrubs. He was an upstanding man of the community, one who had a horrific childhood, yet refused to reiterate the same pattern. He made damn sure that he was the complete opposite of his father, by providing his family with a good future and stability, not taking every penny to spend it on alcohol, only to return and beat on his wife and children afterwards.

As soon as the convertible was parked in the garage, and the ignition was switched off, I was asked if I wanted any lunch. Involuntarily, I shook my head, my earrings jangling against one another as I did so. When I saw his once smiling face fall and his head drop along with a sigh at my answer, my system was inundated with a form of guilt. I pressed my hand against his forearm. “Please don’t think I don’t appreciate today, Dad. I did and I do. I just want to be on my own now.”

His arm draped over my shoulders, pulling me into his side as we strolled into the driveway. The mechanical sound of the double garage door closing narrowly drowned-out a handful of his words. “I’m here when you want to talk, okay. All you have to do is say so.”

“I know,” I muttered, and as the front door was unlocked, I rearranged the generous amount of bags in my hands, then headed straight up the stairs in front of me to unpack and have some alone time. I needed to learn how to tackle my own demons and fast. Unfortunately, that was a journey that only I could travel.

Placing each article of clothing on hangers and organizing them in the closet was a tiring job. I can’t even remember falling asleep; all I remember was gasping and waking to a cold sweat sheening my flesh as the vivid image was embedded in my mind.

The way I screamed his name as he turned his back on me and walked away with his hands loosely in his pockets, his head down just displaying the back of his flat-cap, was torture.

“Please, don’t leave me. Come back, I’ll change, I’m sorry,” I called out to him. Finally, my words struck a nerve and he halted mid-stride. Turning on his heel sluggishly, his head lulled back. I was practically running towards him as he began prowling towards me.

When we met, my hands caressed at the bulging muscle framed in ink at the top of his arms. I breathed him in as deeply as I could––so deep in fact, that the bridge of my nose began to sting. When his knuckles trailed down the side of my face, eradicating the tears which fell upon them, a warming shudder escaped me.

“When will you learn, darlin’? You never need to change.”

Then he was gone, and I was left sitting in the heart of a Queen-size bed all alone, with my knees pulled into my chest, rocking as further tears fell, without the familiar, gentle touch brushing them away.

When I thought I purged one batch of sobs, I glanced at the digital clock on the white bedside unit. It was almost midnight, and I was beyond grateful that my family hadn’t disturbed me, most probably because Brittany talked them out of it.

Each time I closed my eyes, I saw him. Each time I found myself drowning in the silence of oblivion, his voice would pierce through like the first rays of light after a storm. In that moment, I wished that I could’ve gone back a few weeks and relive those moments where it was Liam standing in front of my face as I closed my eyes. At least I would feel hatred, resent and disgust at the man in front of me. But seeing the man I love so desperately…each time it killed me a little more. And I already had very little left to keep alive.

Deciding to take a shower to eliminate the sheen of sweat from my body, I stripped from my clothing which I fell asleep in, and stepped into the shower, the heat of each tiny droplet lancing my flesh as though trying to scald the emotional pain from my bones…

I wished it could.

Ten minutes later I was hastily toweling my body. I stepped into my fresh mint green satin pajamas with K.M.J embroidered on the left pocket, then my slippers. The fluffy robe was wrapped and tied around my body before I headed down the corridor on my tiptoes, avoiding the usual creaking boards like I did as a child.

The lights were off. Everyone was in bed, so I made extra care not to make too much noise as I threaded the chain through the front door track to unlock it. The moment I pulled that door open, the cool night, D.C air hit me like driving seventy miles into a brick wall.