I could still smell the blood, even after three showers. Still feel the flesh give way underneath my high heel. Still feel the awful suction when I pulled my shoe free again.
I shivered and took a big gulp of the beer. I wasn’t a big drinker, but I wanted to drink tonight. Maybe it would help me sleep.
“You okay?”
I snapped out of my memories to stare at Lucky. I nodded vigorously. Too vigorously.
“Yeah. Great.”
He turned down the heat and sat down next to me on the bench that ran around the edge of the deck.
“No, you’re not.”
“I’m fine really. Jacey is safe. I’m so grateful to you and your friends.”
“I know but that doesn’t mean you’re fine. You will be, but it takes time.”
I just stared at him, afraid of what he was saying. These images… what if they never went away.
“Time?”
“Yeah.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Listen Angel, it’s… it’s normal.”
I stared at him.
“What’s normal?”
“PTSD. We all get it to one extent or another. In active duty I mean.” He looked at me solemnly. “We all see things we can’t unsee.”
I exhaled shakily. Okay, so he did get it. Of course. What was I supposed to do now?
“I can’t stop seeing… him. I can’t believe I…”
“Shhhh. It’s okay.” He pulled me against his side. “You did what you had to do. Otherwise that beautiful girl”—he pointed to Jacey—“would have been alone.”
“I feel like I’m failing her too.”
“You’re not.”
“What if they come after us?”
Us. And it was us now. He was in this with us, whether he liked it or not.
“I’ve been thinking about it. I think we should leave for a while or at least lay low out here. But the club carries some weight with Vincent and Antonio. Vince senior too. I think… there’s a chance Sal had some loyal guys we don’t know about. But I don’t think so. I think you maybe did the Margarellis a favor. I think maybe they will be glad he’s gone.”
“What?” I stared at him, praying that it might be true. “You really think that?”
“Vincent would kick my ass for saying this, but yeah. He didn’t say it explicitly, but I got the impression that Sal was a problem for him. So let’s just take care of you and that amazing girl.”
I let out a sigh of relief. If he was right… maybe the only things I had to worry about were my kid’s lungs and my soul.
“Thanks, Lucky.”
“You can tell me, you know. I’ve been there. It’s… well, it’s probably not going to stop for a while.”
“You see them too?”
“Yeah. You can’t control it at first but eventually, it gets better. I have to make an effort to bring most of it back now.”
“Oh. That’s good. I can’t imagine this will ever go away.”
He turned to face me, taking both my hands.
“Here’s a trick I use. If I get a memory, a bad one that won’t quit, I paint it.”
“Paint it?”
“Yeah. I picture a big fat paint brush in a bright color. And I paint the memory. I don’t try and shove it down. I just give it a color. Makes it less threatening somehow.”
“That’s…” I tilted my head, trying to imagine it. “That’s brilliant. Thank you.”
“I’m always here for you, Angel.” He squeezed my hands and stood, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “Better get back to it.”
I watched him work the grill, another lucky break.
The grill was massive but since it was gas wouldn’t let off smoke or fumes. Not unless Lucky really burned the food. He’d assured me he would not. Jacey was far enough away that a tiny bit of smoke wouldn’t mess her up. But a coal grill would be a legitimate risk to my daughter’s health and life. Most people didn’t know it, but smoke could kill anyone with asthma. We avoided brick oven pizzerias and barbecue places. Laundromats. Anything that could trigger her lungs to seize up. My little girl had never been to a bonfire at the beach, and she never would.
It was a small price to pay for living, but it still struck me as sad. Thankfully, Jacey wasn’t yet a teenager who realized she was missing out and having to avoid all the triggers. But if we were blessed, she would be a teenager soon.
I just hoped she didn’t feel bad about everything she was going to have to miss out on. Living with so many restrictions… it was isolating. I felt it too, and I wasn’t even the one with delicate lungs.
I hoped she wouldn’t hate me for protecting her and her lungs. But even if she did, I wouldn’t change the way I’d done things. She had a fighting chance because of all the hard work and sacrifices we made. They might cure this thing before she hit her middle age, the time when most CF kids passed. It had been so much worse in decades past. I knew we were as lucky as we could be under the circumstances. Teen mom. No college. No family support.