Page 70 of Losing a Piece of Me

My dad nods. “Yes, come by the house later and I will give you all the information I have. And, Alexis…” He looks at me. “You can come to the house any time you’d like. I didn’t mean what I said.”

It seems like he’s going to say more, but he spins around when the bathroom door opens and my mother steps out. Her eyes are swollen and bloodshot. Her makeup is smeared and her hair is a mess, but she doesn’t care. “I heard what you told them. I’m sorry for acting the way I did.” She looks up at my dad. “When I heard what Ken was saying, I believed it so easily because I remember when you were spending so much time with her. I thought you were having an affair too. I never asked because I knew I couldn’t handle the truth.”

My dad wraps his arms my mom and leads her toward the door. My sister heads back to her husband. Striker and I stand there in silence, wondering how our lives could be turned upside down in a matter of minutes.

* * *

Striker is behind the wheel of his truck, neither of us speaking as we drive down the road. I can feel the tension rolling off of him. I know his mind must be reeling, so I ask, “Are you okay?”

He lets out a puff of air and quickly looks at me. “No.” He looks back at the road. “Yes.” Then he runs his hand through his short, dark hair. “I don’t know. I don’t fucking know anymore. I just accepted that your dad took my mother away from me, now I’m finding out that he didn’t take her, he helped her. He helped her to escape the shit I’ve been living my whole life. I’m so fucking confused about it all.”

“Maybe you should talk to your mom and ask her…”

“No! I can’t do that. Not right now.”

“Okay, what do you want to do then?” I keep my eyes trained on him. Anger and sadness tense every muscle in his body.

He lets out a short laugh. “Right now, I just want a drink.”

I shrug. “Let’s go then.”

He looks back over at me. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

He nods before turning in the direction of the bar.

I know Striker. He doesn’t drink much, but if he’s saying he needs a drink, by God we’re getting him one.

* * *

We sit in the bar all day. I had no intention of drinking since I planned on staying sober to take care of him, but once he got a few in him he wouldn’t let up. We both lean back and take shot after shot - which means we’re walking home.

Once his head starts buzzing, all the anger and pain seem to leave him. He is laughing and joking. His muscles aren’t tense anymore and he has a smile glued to his gorgeous face. His drunken good cheer is contagious and much needed after today.

Everything suddenly seems lighter. For the first time in a long time, my chest doesn’t hurt. All secrets are gone. I don’t have to worry about coming home to see my family, I don’t have to worry about running into Striker, or him making me feel something I’m not ready for. I can just be me.

No more secrets.

No more lies.

Just me.

Just him and me.

* * *

Two A.M. rolls around too fast and we’re kicked out. Time to start walking. Striker refuses to put down his half-empty beer but the bartender doesn’t care. He shoves us out the door anyway.

We trip and sway our way down the sidewalk. We’re both strongly intoxicated and feeling nothing but love for one another. He grabs my hand and spins me into his arms. I hit his chest hard with my own.

When our eyes lock, I freeze.

His green eyes are dark and glassy.

“You have no idea how much you mean to me, do you?”

I smack his chest and try pulling away out of habit. “Come on.”

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