And I still love you now…
7 yearslater
“Babe, dance with me.” She swayed her hips back and forth trying to mimic the Hawaiian dancers. She smiled and reached for my hand. “Baby, you promised that you would step out of your comfort zone. Dance with your wife.” She pecked my lips.
Groaning, I stood and wrapped her slender body in my arms. “Are you enjoying yourself, beautiful?” I kissed her temple.
Honey brown eyes stared up at me. “Yes, baby. Thank you for bringing me here. I’m so happy, Paxton.” Her eyes misted.
“Are you happy to be in Hawaii or happy that you’re now officially Mrs. Paxton Reid?”
With a giggle, she rubbed her cheek along my beard. “Both. Now let’s dance.”
Less the seventy-two hours ago I became a married man. It was and still is hard for me to believe that I made vows before God to honor and love another human being. Not saying that I wasn’t capable, there was a time when I thought the happily ever after wasn’t meant for me.
“Your smile is addictive. Tell me what has you smiling like that so I can always make sure to keep it on your face.” She stood on her tippy-toes and kissed my lips.
“There’s nothing you have to do, Love. You loving me the way you do is enough for me to smile a lifetime.”
For the past three days, I’ve suffered at the cost of someone else’s negligence. Nightmares intensified. Only slept with the aid of sleeping pills or exercising my body past the point of exertion. Lord knows I wanted to empty what was left in my bank account and buy every bottle inside of Total Wine and Spirits. No matter how stressed our memories made me, I haven’t given in to the forceful feen to pour a drop of bourbon on my tongue, which was a first considering I drunk myself to sleep for the last three and a half years.
My family hounded me to seek psychological help or to sign up for one of those group meetings that required me to sit in a circle and discuss my issues. It was easy for people to suggest what they feel will help when they don’t even understand the pain and strength it takes to wake up in the morning.
“Are you okay?” Maxum Drummer, my lawyer and family friend, leaned over and whispered.
Nah, I was far from okay.
Barely surviving.
Barely living.
Blinking slow, rotating my neck counterclockwise, I flexed my fingers when my eyes landed on the clock positioned behind the parole board. We’ve been inside the cold, stale room for an hour now and I’ve managed to zone out three times. In a sense, it was a blessing to block out the world and find shelter within my thoughts. It blocked me from hearing the sob story from Carlos. The same story he cried with endless tears three and a half years ago.
“How much longer is this going to take?” My patience for the matter had long ago waned and I was seconds from walking out. I showed up. I sat here and offered my ears to hear his explanation. I’ve done all that was asked of me and now I needed to go.
Maxum’s solemn eyes made me grit my teeth. His remorse and pity, he could keep that for another day or for someone who needed it. “They’re reading the decision now. Are you sure you’re okay?”
Exhaling, I nodded turning my attention to the panel of four members huddled amongst themselves whispering. “No, Max. That man took my happiness. I’ll never be okay.” His shoulders dropped along with the heavy release of breath, it was a waste of energy for him to give and feel.
“Mr. Hernandez, while you’ve been…” I stopped listening to the parole board member as soon as he started. All that small talk and fluff of sentences weren’t what I wanted and needed to hear. “I’m sorry but your request for parole has been denied.” There it was. The words I’ve been patiently waiting to hear since we arrived. One victory down and however many to go. As long as I had air in my lungs and mobility of my limbs, he will never see outside of this prison.
“Thanks, Maxum.” He and I stood to shake hands.
I’m sure if he and I didn’t have the history we had he’d long ago dismiss me as a client. To be short, I gave him hell. Not because I didn’t know the laws and how the justice system operated. I gave him hell because no one could tell me differently when it came to requesting the death penalty in the case of my late wife. In my eyes, it was only right that since he took her life then his needed to be taken too.
Sixty-five years to life was Carlos’s fate and that still wasn’t enough for me. He had the possibility of parole and that pissed me the fuck off. It felt like a slap in the face. It felt like the system once again showed that they didn’t care. Why force me to relieve that type of pain by coming up here whenever Carlos felt like testing hope to see if he could get free off parole?
When Max called and told me that Carlos somehow managed to get a date in front of the parole board after only serving three and a half years of his sixty-five-year sentence, I lost my shit. Lost my shit on the wrong people. Overpopulation and COVID cases within the prison could kiss my black ass.
“It’s not the victory you want but he’ll still be living behind those bars.” My mother’s rasp of a voice made its appearance before her petite frame eased between Max and me. “Come on, let’s get you home so I can feed you.”
Her vanilla perfume breezed under my nose as she lifted on her toes to hug me. “Thank you, Ma.” Looking over her shoulder I spotted the rest of my family standing by waiting. I didn’t deserve the smiling faces that awaited me.
They’ve gone above and beyond for me in these last three years than I ever could imagine and will be forever grateful for. Loving me when I was mean, still am, but mean and angry. Loving me when all I could do was speak in the form of wanting to fight. Love me when I found peace in my funk and the burning satisfaction of alcohol.
They never gave up on me even after I gave up on myself.
Joining them by the door, I hugged my family one by one. Thanking them for being here with me because they didn’t have to. The only people missing were my brother Quest, who was away overseas, and Mrs. Patrice, Heather’s mother. She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t stand to be in the same room with the man who took her daughter from her. Couldn’t bear to listen to the wailing and worthless cries of the man who caused her to bury her only child.