Page 10 of Reclaim Me

This time, when she throws a jab—aimed directly at my stomach—her stance is perfect, and there’s power behind the blow. It stings but not enough to steal my breath or anything, which makes her annoyed.

“My nipple isn’t fucked up, asshole.”

“That’s how you made it sound. What am I supposed to think when you start talking about teeth and nipples?”

“I don’t know. Not that.”

We’re both moving over to the bench where she dropped all of her shit when she stormed in here asking for a one-on-one session. I was on my way out the door when she showed up, and I paused my plans for the day to make time for her because she looked like she needed the physical outlet.

I toss my pads on the bench beside the bouquet of flowers I bought earlier, drawing Mallory’s attention to them. Her brows lift and sparked interest makes her eyes light with a curiosity I don’t want aimed in my direction.

“Who are the flowers for?”

“Nobody you know,” I say, picking up the bouquet, my keys and phone. “You ready? I need to lock up.”

She stands, grabbing her stuff too. “Really, Hunter?”

“Really, Mallory.”

My answer is followed with a wave of my hand that indicates my impatience and, thankfully, gets her moving out the door. She’s clearly annoyed but that doesn’t stop her from waiting on me while I lock up.

“I’m not trying to be in your business,” she says as we begin moving towards our cars. “But I do hope you’re going to shower and change before you go on your date.”

Even though she’s got it all wrong, I still look down at what I’m wearing and ask, “What’s wrong with what I have on?”

Mallory cocks a brow, sweeping her assessing gaze over the black shorts, shirt, and sneakers I’m wearing. “Are you serious? If a man showed up to a date wearing that, I’d walk right out.”

“Good thing you’re married, and you don’t have to worry about things like that anymore.”

Her jaw drops as she opens the driver’s door. “Excuse you? Chris and I go on plenty of dates!”

Seeing her get so riled up is funny, especially when we both know that she’s got an amazing husband and marriage. She and Chris went through some hard times over the years, but they’re a great couple with one of the strongest bonds I’ve ever seen. Their little nipple-biting babies will grow up with two parents who are in love, which is nothing like the dysfunction of the family I grew up in thanks to my father, who left his first wife and son for my mother. A year after getting married, they had me, leaving me to grow up with a brother who despised me for having a full-time dad who constantly compared me to him.

“I know, I know, you and your husband are very in love.”

“That’s right, and you could be, too, if you put in a little effort before your date.”

“Noted. See you on Thursday.”

“Take a shower!” She calls out, and I wave her off, not bothering to respond as I make my way to my car.

The drive to the cemetery usually takes me twenty minutes, but today, I do it in fifteen. I sit in the car for a while, looking at a sky full of gray clouds and hoping the impending storm won’t interfere with my plans to honor a life lost too soon. Eventually, I make the trek, walking a path I know by heart, remembering, as I always do, what it felt like to take these steps while sharing the burden of a casket with the members of a security team I left when the weight of my guilt got to be too much. When I reach her grave, I crouch down, brushing away dirt and random bits of debris until the letters of her name are clearly legible.

Legacy James.

A client turned friend whose death sent me flying off the edge of the wagon of sobriety. What felt like the end of the world at the moment actually resulted in the kind of goodness being brought into my life that didn’t last long because I didn’t know how to hold it, how to cherish it, how to feel like I deserved it.

“Happy Birthday, Legs. I can’t believe you’ve been gone for so long.”

The words are carried off by the wind, whipped around the headstones of lost loved ones. My parents are buried out here, and so are a few of my friends who failed to get a handle on the vices that brought us into each other’s lives. Because of that, I spend a lot of time here, bringing flowers to graves that are my job to tend to, either because no one else can do it or because they just don’t care enough to. I try to limit my visits to important dates—anniversaries of their deaths or their birthdays, or holidays like Mother’s or Father’s Day—so my whole life isn’t marked by grief and loss, but even when I’m not here, I still feel it.

The emptiness.

The hollow.

The negative space in my heart, mind, and body that used to be taken up with good things and even better people. I miss one of them more than everyone else. Her absence isn’t a result of a physical death but an emotional one. The loss of love that couldn’t sustain the blows that refused to stop coming.

Visiting Legacy’s grave makes me think of her more than usual, which is saying a lot because she’s always a constant in my mind. The increase happens naturally, having something to do with the way Legacy’s death overlaps with her arrival in my life. I used to be grateful for that overlap, convincing myself that good things could come out of even the worst situations, but now that I’ve lost them both, it just makes days like today hurt even more.

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