Chaos (Havoc Series Book Two) (19 page)

Likes me? Wow. Likes me. My girlfriend likes
me. Once upon a time it was clear to strangers she loves me. Now
I've managed to fall down the pole back to elementary school
liking. Fuck. Me.

“Hey.” she stands to her feet, puts out her
cigarette, and crosses over to me. “I won't tell them you escaped
out here.” Looking down at her I raise my eyebrows. “I'll lie and
say you had to take a phone call. Cool?”

With a short nod I sigh, “Thanks.”

“Yeah.” She pulls hand lotion out of her
pocket, I assume to hide the smell. “Don't mention it...”

And she stands there slowly rubbing the
lotion in almost like she's waiting for me to say something to her.
But if I wanted to talk I wouldn't have come out here to be alone.
And if I wanted to talk to someone about something it wouldn't be
to a stranger. To someone who has no idea what's going on. To
someone who...isn't biased.

“I just...” the words are wandering around in
the air as I shake my head still staring in the distance. “You ever
feel like your life is spiraling into a never ending void of chaos
and not matter what you fucking do you can't...stop it?”

Sliding the lotion back in her pocket she
offers me a faint grin, “Every goddamn day.”

And with those words she circles around back
heading the way I assume she came. Shockingly enough I suddenly
feel the slightest ease. There's something about knowing that I'm
not alone in feeling this way that makes it just a little more
bearable.

The sound of Mindy's car engine humming is
the only sound besides our breathing that fills the car. My head
leans against the head rest eyes plastered outside the window. I do
my best to remain calm, but it's hardly working.

“Wanna talk about it, Slugger?”

I grunt, “I'm fine.”

“Is that why you've got a death grip on my
door handle?”

My eyes glance down to the sight she's
describing. Surprised at myself, I shake my hand loose from it and
shut my eyes. The amount of stress that I'm suffering in only seems
to be increasing. After Haven's graduation, I thought things would
get better. They should've gotten better. We should've gotten
closer and been spending time together. And yet. A groan escapes
me.

“Slugger...”

“I'm fine.”

“How's your swim training?”

Adjusting my jeans, I shrug. “Better. My time
is up. Way up.”

“Good.” She pats my thigh lovingly. “Really
good to hear. And your run time?”

“Better.”

“Marksmanship?”

“Ideal.”

“Good, Slugger! Sounds like you're
ready.”

“Almost.”

“And Haven? Is she ready?”

Her name that once made me smile makes me
grind my teeth. It gnaws at me now. Reminds me of things that once
were. Reminds me of when she used to adore me. When she used to
spend time with me. When we used to get lost in one another. When I
mattered.

“Slugger--”

“She doesn't know.”

“What?!” Mindy snaps loudly at me, her voice
hitting that motherly octave. “What do you mean she doesn't know?”
I don't answer. “Why haven't you told her?”

“I--”

“Do not say you haven't had time.”

“It's the truth!”

“How do you never have time?”

“She's never home!” my inability to remain
calm apparent. “First it was school! Now it's job fairs and
interviews! She's been home in time for dinner once since her
graduation and been home twice at night before I crashed! Explain
to me when I'm supposed to tell her!”

“Make the time, Slugger,” she smoothly says.
“Because if you don't tell her, I will.”

In a mumble I say, “You're more likely to
talk to her than I am.”

Hearing that she sighs and attempts to change
the subject. “Are you excited about your birthday?”

“Am I ever?”

“I thought this year might be different.”

“Because?”

“Because you have friends. Because you have a
girlfriend-” she cuts herself off mid thought and follows with.
“Has she even mentioned your birthday?”

I'm not even sure she knows my birthday is
coming. Scrubbing the back of my neck I don't respond. I turn my
attention back out the windshield, “Where is it we're going?”

Mindy glides off the highway onto the access
road and effortlessly pulls into the drive through of a Starbucks,
the movement so fluid it felt as if almost no time passed between
the question and her answer. “To get coffee.” When I look at her
sarcastically she asks, “Do you want anything?”

A new life? My old relationship with my
girlfriend? To bury my French replacement in training six feet
under? I doubt any of that is on the menu next to low fat or decaf
options. “No, thank you.”

“Suit yourself,” she hums and places her
order with just as much cheer as before. Once she's drove around
the corner in line behind a small sports car she points. “Open the
glove compartment.” Doing as instructed I pull out a small velvet
box with a bow on top. I look up at her a sarcastic look on my
face. “Go on. Open it.”

I lift the box open and inside is a small
bronze key. “Jewelry? How'd you know?”

“The sarcasm, Slugger.” she shakes her head
approaching the window and handing the woman her card.

“What is it?”

“A key.”

I do my best not to snap at her again and let
out an exasperated breath. “To what?”

“And that...is where we're headed.” She turns
putting her coffee in the cup holder.

Not in the mood to argue any more I slump
back down against the seat, my eyelids heavy in annoyance. There's
not another word said as she pulls out of the parking lot and
crosses the street to a storage facility. She types in a pass code.
The gates slowly open and she drives to the end of the lot, takes a
right, and heads straight for a unit in the back corner.

The moment she's parked in a space, she shuts
the engine off and looks at me, her coffee back in her hands. For a
moment, she says nothing. Contemplation clearly all over her face.
I just don't know what's causing it.

“Mindy...why are we here?”

With a deep exhale she clinks her nails again
the cup. An obvious tick that she thinks this going to be a
difficult discussion.

“Do you remember when Jamie died, and your
father boxed away all her things?”

It's the memory that sticks out more than any
others with him. Of course I do. I simply nod.

“And Whiskey told me, he told you that I kept
all those things he tried to throw out.” Our unexpected fishing
trip floats back towards me. At that moment, I look down at the key
in my hand. The one staring at me. My past. My memories. My mom.
“Well I made three keys to the storage unit. One for me. One for
him. One for you.”

I continue to stare the box. Mystified. What
am I supposed to say? What the fuck could I possibly say?

“Slugger...I didn't know as much about Jamie
as I wish I had, but I know the important things like how much she
loved your father. How much he loved her. And how much she loved
you.” My eyes dart up. There's a small tear in the corner of her
eye. “And I promised myself when I moved her things, I would take
care of you the best I could. That I would raise you as close as to
being my own son as possible. That I would never let Jamie's memory
be buried with her.” That explains why she calls me, Slugger. Maybe
even her immediate approval of Haven. “Now...you don't have to use
that key, but I thought maybe it was time you at least were given
the choice.”

I wet my lips and pull the key of the box.
It's light. As a key should be. I've handled enough to know what
they feel like yet I expected this one to weigh a ton. “Has
dad...”

“Not yet, Slugger.” she fidgets with her hair
bun. “I don't think he'll be ready until he's learned to love
again.
If
he learns to love again.”

My head nods. Slowly. So slow it feels almost
like I'm not even moving it. Do I want to do this? Do I want to be
surrounded by one of the only women I've ever loved? By the one
woman who left me? Can I? Can I put myself through this? Don't I
have enough shit to deal with?

“Mindy--”

“Before you decide against it, which is where
you're leaning because I know you better than you think, maybe with
everything else that's going on in your life, this could be a
little peace you're looking for.”

Peace. The complete opposite of chaos. I
could use peace. Hell, I could use a minute to focus.

She unlocks the door, and I feel myself
reaching for the handle. I need this. I need to face those
memories. Maybe if I do, it'll make it all the easier for me to
face what's going on with Haven.

I toss my head forward. “Is it that one?”

“Yup.” her finger does a slight point.

After clearing my throat, my voice hoarsely
asks, “Will you come with me?”

She gapes. I give her a moment. I'm a little
shocked myself.

“Are you sure that's what you want?”

Without hesitation I answer, “Yeah.”

“Then of course,” the words are so breathless
it almost sounds like they weren't said.

The two of us slide out of her SUV and head
towards the storage unit. I can do this. I can make this happen. I
can face the reality inside. I. Can. Do. This. My hand rises to
unlock the pad. It's shaking. Rocking. Unsteady. Fuck. Story of my
life right now.
Get a grip, Marine!
You can do this!
When the key is finally in the lock, I make a quick turn and
there's a very distinct click. It's loud. It's strong. It feels
like it can be heard echoing through the parking lot. Suddenly, it
feels like my chest is constricting. Caving. I can't do this. I
can't fucking do this right now.

I lean my forehead against the closed door.
My eyes squeeze shut. The air seems too thick. Too condensed. Too
harsh. I wait for Mindy to say something. To push me. To push me to
go inside. To yank me to go back to the car. Anything. But she
doesn't. She just stands there silently. Her breath no less shallow
than mine. This feels too real. Like if I open this door she's just
going to be there waiting for me.

“Open the door, Slugger,” he groans at me
adjusting his watch.

I give him another look. He's now rubbing his
chin. He has on that jacket that only means one thing. He's going
to do what he always does tomorrow. Leave. I push the thought out
of my head. I hate that he leaves me, but whatever. Not like I can
make him stay.

My hand turns the knob slowly. Mom is usually
ready by now. What if something’s wrong? What if she's hurt? And if
that's the case why am I opening the door? As soon the door is
opened I'm relieved to see her sitting on the edge of her bed,
black dress on, doing something with one of the shoes on her
feet.

Looking up sweetly, she coos, “Hi,
Slugger...”

“Hi mom.” I stare at her for a moment. She
looks perfect. I thought people weren't supposed to be perfect? But
she looks perfect. In her fancy dress. In her fancy shoes. With her
fancy earrings. And now her fancy shoes. “Ready?”

A smile creeps across her face. She bites her
lipstick covered bottom lip, “Are you?”

Her voice is playful and forceful as it
repeats in my ear. I'm ready mom. I'm ready to see you again. With
a tough grab, I yank the lock off, and push the garage style door
up, revealing a sight that reminds me of finding a sunken ship full
of treasures.

“On the left are the few things she had
before her and Whiskey. The ones in the center are from their life
together before you. And the ones on the right are the ones with
you.....” my eyes glance at the few boxes at her life without us,
the several boxes from her life with dad, and the abundance
overflowing from the section of us together.

My voice cracks as I look over my shoulder.
“It's all here...”

Mindy merely nods and sips her coffee.
Finally she sighs, “Take all the time you need, Slugger.”

Slowly I move around not touching anything.
Just observing. The things from her life before me and dad seem too
uncomfortable to even think about touching. What gives me the right
to know that part of her? That part of her that dad doesn't
probably even know? My eyes scan boxes in that section labeled
photos, memories, journals, other. Knowing that she used to strip
for money makes me really cringe when I think see the word
other.

I head towards some stacked boxes with
similar names, but from the section Mindy labeled from when they
got married. One of the boxes is labeled The Wedding. Curiosity has
me grinning. Smirking. Smiling. My parents married. Happy. In love.
All things I want for myself that seem to be slipping away. My
chest tightens. The simple action of breathing too damn difficult
to continue.

In an attempt to shake off the feelings, I
head to the section filled with things that are stained in my brain
as a kid. Immediately, the memories flood back. The brown boxes
overflowing. The black dress that Haven wore on top. Pieces from
our family photos shattered around. Glass littered everywhere.
Whiskey smells choking me. Gagging me. I can't breathe. I can't
breathe. God help me! I can't fucking breathe!

My knees fall and hit the ground inside the
storage unit. Mindy rushes to my aid, dropping beside me, wrapping
her arms around me. With my eyes squeezed shut I repeat the words
softly, “I can't breathe...I can't breathe.” The faint smell of
whiskey clouds my nose. And so does the smell of a cigar. He used
to smoke cigars when he drank his expensive whiskey. “I
can't...”

“Shhh, Slugger.” Mindy cradles me close to
her body. And I feel no more than 10 years old. No more than the
kid who wanted to grow up and be a baseball player. No more than
the kid whose mother died before his eyes. I'm broken. And now I
know it shows.

Something about the sight of those boxes, the
smell, and the overwhelming anxiety surrounding it all breaks down
all that's left inside of me. Tears fill my eye lids. One by one.
Gathering. Conspiring. Deciding which should be the first traitor.
Which should be the first to fall. And when it hits my cheek, the
others take a dive down. Following the traitor’s path. For the
first time, I let it all go. The pain from missing my mother. The
pain from fighting with my dad. The pain from feeling alienated
from Haven. The stress of the job. All of it drains from me, from
my eyes, washing away the glue of the chaos that's barely holding
me together.