A good therapist didn’t have to
explain my self-destructive behavior to me. I broke things because I didn’t feel I deserved to have nice things, yeah how fucked up was that for a revelation. I had a lifetime filled with regrets and damage I inflicted without the help of anyone else. Causing chaos was what I did best.
So yeah, it didn’t matter if Andy and I had this lingering intense physical and chemical reaction to each other. I couldn’t act on it. I had two more months of self-imposed celibacy and another round of tests to make sure I was clean as a whistle. Pregnancy would never be an issue but I didn’t see damning Andy to a course of retro-viral medications was fair either. I wasn’t that much of an asshole these days.
I lay on my bed in my old bedroom counting the glow in the dark stars my Nonny had left clinging to the pale blue ceiling mimicking the sky at home. My hand absently lifted up my shirt and traced the defined scar that made me feel less like a woman each time I had to confront it.
It would always serve as a battle scar to the life I destroyed too soon, the life that would have tied Andy to me forever. I could never have that now. What did the doctor who cut me up say? You’ll be nothing but a barren wasteland with your stupidity. In some ways he was inarguably right but that imaginary therapist I saw each night in my dreams, yeah, she would tell me to morn for that little life and for the little girl who didn’t know any better. That was the part that felt like it would take real courage to face those demons and I didn’t have the fight left in me to tackle that any time soon. Getting through these next 60 days would be my priority.
Watching her chest inhale and exhale in her sleep is the calmest Sierra would ever be. The sunlight in my bedroom glinted off the mirror on the closet door and painted her olive skin golden. The slashes that marred her arms like tiger stripes showed me how tough she was in the darkest of times. It was still scary as hell, I wasn’t going to lie. Nobody signed up to have a partner clutching to a past filled with abuse and self-harm. Though it had been a long time and none of the faint scars were fresh I still carried the burden of worry. Worry that I couldn’t help her this time considering she ran off the last time. I followed the dance of the rainbow on her skin wishing it would coat her brand new, not because I wanted nice, neat, orderly things but because I wanted her to have the peace sleep brought her in her daily restless life. The rainbow blended into her skin as the sun moved across the morning sky with each minute that passed. The colors shifted to pain old golden sunlight. Gold. Sierra was worth it all.
I remembered an old history teacher who had a love for Asian studies. He told us about a Japanese practice called, kintsukuroi. It was a form of art where the artist used powdered gold and lacquer to fix the broken seams of ceramic. Sierra for all her strength was a fragile broken vase but the sunlight mimicked the gold and I found a way to appreciate the brokenness within her. Without it, she wouldn’t have her snarky humor, her reckless, impulsive drive, and her tender heart I wanted so badly to call my own and protect. I loved her no matter the past or the uncertainty of tomorrow. I was banking on today, this moment right here, right now as I leaned in to kiss her awake.
14
Andy
“Sierra, we may have lost a few along the way,” I clutched her hand in mine squeezing gently reminding her I was still here. I would always be here for her no matter what. “Our love has always been a battlefield. With you, I aim to win the war.” She gasped and I pulled her into my arms holding her as close as possible. Our heart beats touched as close as humanly possible through layers of clothing, skin, muscles and bones. This was my woman and while our ride had been a rocky one from day one, heck, I imagined it would be until the day we left this earth, I loved her.
Completely.
Irrevocably.
“I wasn’t dealt the hand of cards meant for this, for us.” She whined pitifully and I knew if she truly believed that then what chance did we have at anything together?
“Sierra, it’s not about the hand, it’s about how you play them.” My girl had been scrappy from the beginning and perhaps that what I loved most about her. She constantly fought. She might have been more wrong than she was right, but she was always forcing herself to push through whether she realized it or not. That was the girl I loved, the one I wanted in my life.
“I’ve felt like you were always five hundred miles away and I could never catch up to you.”
“That’s a great song my love, but I think we’ve been more like twenty five hundred miles away and being stuck in your head doesn’t count.”
15
Sierra
“What you doing here?” Rooted to my spot, I turned my head to glance over my shoulder. Andy caught me here at the precipice of my past, my hand covered in rich black dirt under the vine of Kingston purple grapes.
“I left something here that belongs to me.”’ I prayed he let it go but that wasn’t Andy’s nature.
“Nothing here belongs to you. This vineyard is mine.”
“Grandpa may have deeded it to you when I skipped town but this is still my family’s legacy.”
“Wrong. It was my wife’s.”
“I’m…” I couldn’t finish my sentence because I didn’t know what I was anymore. I wasn’t a carefree girl. I wasn’t the love of Andy’s life. A piece of paper tacked to the board in his office held the remnants of that relationship in tatters. I had the courage to send him the papers to fill out for the divorce, but he never followed through and I never followed up–too afraid to make it real.
“You left me Sierra.” His hand is fisted and punching his own leg. He would never hurt me but the threat of violence even if he’s merely acting out his frustration is real. “What was I supposed to think.” His voice growls low and I’m feeling weak and dizzy remembering every detail from that brief time in our lives shared.
“Whatever you damn well pleased.” Mumbling I sat back on my haunches, the old tin container nestled between my legs. My fingers cramped staying still instead of ripping off the top and breaking it open.
“They you won’t mind if I keep this too.” Andy grabbed the box and stuck with my butt on the ground I couldn’t get up to get it from him fast enough.
“Hey! That’s not yours to keep?” Scrambling I tried to get it but like an over grown jerk he held the tin up over my head. Being five foot tall wasn’t cute as an adult. There were no stripper heels to level the playing field and no lacy scraps of clothing to deflect his attention or leather to arm myself with in this coming conversation.
Andy leaned down, his face in mine and his teeth gritted. “Everything here is mine. You didn’t want it so you don’t deserve to come back for it.”
“What are you twelve?” I shouted back to his retreating form between the rows of vines and uneven dirt.