Page 7 of Revive

“Fuck.” Confused, he repeatedly runs his hand through his hair. “I don’t know—” He cuts himself off while shaking his head. “Well, what happened? How were you two after?”

His questioning is warranted. He wants more, a sliver of understanding of how we got to this complicated and fucked up finish line. I wish I could give it to him. To both of us.

Tipping the bottle up, I drain it of the last few sips remaining and place it down, empty, between us. I lean forward, look my brother straight in the eyes, and admit to the obvious, hard and painful truth. “It doesn’t matter. It didn’t change a single fucking thing.”

2

Sasha

My shoulders sag as soon as I sit back in the car. The night is dark, and the air cold. The fogged-up windows hide me from anyone looking in and seeing me on the verge of a breakdown. I’ve had eight months to prepare. What the fuck am I talking about? I’ve had almost sixteen years to work out my shit, and I still can’t figure it out.

The guilt. The wonder. The want. Damn the stupid fucking want. I’ve replayed every touch, kiss and ounce of pleasure he gave me for two hundred and fifty days, and it’s been nothing but torture. I stupidly thought it was the goodbye we needed.

When I cornered him in the kitchen before he left, I thought I could rip the band-aid off and give in to the million fantasies he’s starred in and send him off with well wishes and close the door on whatever it is Drix and I were. For good.

I was wrong. So fucking wrong. It wasn’t needed. It was selfish, and I’ve been paying the price ever since. Every time I close my eyes he’s there, in my thoughts, my dreams, like a ghost I feel him everywhere, but as usual, he’s nowhere to be found.

When he left, the usual cracks in my heart were no longer small fissures I could control and fill. It broke. Whole chunks, dismantled, with serrated edges that could no longer be pieced back together. I thought I knew what hurt and loss was when it came to Hendrix, but it was really just an induction into the complete and dominating destruction of knowing what it would’ve been like to have him. Every single part of him, in every possible way.

The car door creaks open and Dakota steps in, placing a bag at her feet, she holds the gift with reverence on her lap. The drive starts in silence, as every part of me tries to recover from the small glimpse of Hendrix I allowed myself. Tonight he looked different, yet exactly the same. Freshly tanned, his body was languid, and relaxed. His eyes were a different story, the hate and hurt still burned as bright as ever. The only time he lets his guard down with me is around Dakota. I live for those moments. For years I’ve witnessed a boy turn into a man, to prove to the world that blood is thicker than water. For Dakota, he would lay his life down, and sometimes I don’t know if that’s why the pull to him is so strong. Going above and beyond, he put every injustice he suffered on the wayside for a gorgeous little girl that served only as a permanent reminder of all the reasons he and I never happened.

“Are you okay?” Dakota’s voice pulls me out of my own self-sabotaging thoughts.

“Yeah babe, of course.”

“You seem upset.” I know how observant my daughter is. I don’t know what she knows or what she thinks, but it’s the one thing I refuse to talk to her about. She’s a hopeless romantic and Hendrix is my secret for that reason alone. Knowing that my life would’ve been different if I didn’t fall pregnant, is not something I want to touch her. The guilt, the pressure, the expectation, and the potential disappointment is too much for her heart and shoulders to bear. Either way, it’s irrelevant and unnecessary. The only thing that would hurt more than a life without Drix, is a life without Dakota. She’s my everything, and I would do it all again, no questions asked. A hundred times over, I would cry a million tears, and relive every painful moment to have her here by my side. Everything about her is perfection, her heart and soul are flawless. The personification of what love is and how it feels to be loved, she’s been the bright days in my darkest times. She’s my saving grace and the older she gets, the wiser and sharper she becomes. I can’t keep much from her anymore, but this is a must. She’ll make it her business to make sure her mother gets her happily ever after, and as much as I want that for myself one day, I want her to stay in the world of teenage drama and carefree living for as long as she can.

“I’m fine. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t sleep late and you didn’t overwhelm your uncle.” With one hand still holding the wheel, I gesture to the wrapped box she’s holding, “What did he get you?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “He insisted I open it at home.”

“How was your dad, and Em?” Purposefully I change the subject, knowing how much Dakota loves speaking about her dad. It makes my heart tighten in happiness and gratitude that as a family we’re finally here.

“Dad tried to play it cool in front of Uncle Drix, but Em and I knew he’d been secretly counting down the days ‘til he got home.”

“Why am I not surprised. Your dad was always a vault when it came to his feelings,” I explain. “He would do anything to avoid talking about them.”

Rolling her eyes, she huffs in exasperation. “Aren’t all boys like that?”

“What do you know about other boys?”

“Nothing.” Her face flushes as she dips her head away from me.

“Dakota Michaels, is there something you need to tell me?” I ask animatedly.

“Nope.” She shakes her head before pensively looking out the window. “Nothing worth mentioning.”

Turning into the driveway, I switch the car off, and Dakota bolts to the front door, using her own set of keys instead of waiting for me. She’s months away from being sixteen, I’m not surprised a boy has finally gotten her attention, but what I am surprised at is her hiding it from me. Usually she can’t keep a single thought in, but I guess we all have our secrets.

“Dakota,” I call out as I enter the house. Reaching her room, I push open the door and watch her; legs crossed in the middle of her bed meticulously unwrapping her gift. Curious to see what he bought her, I pad over to the edge of the bed and sit quietly.

“Holy shit,” she squeals. She flicks through the pages of what appears to be a book of photos. “It’s so perfect,” she whispers. “If I made myself something this is exactly what I’d put together.” She looks up at me with such adoration and delight. “Want to see?”

“I don’t want to impose.”

She cocks her head to the side, looking at me strangely. “Impose? You’re my mum, you wouldn’t know how not to impose.”

“Excuse me,” I scoff. “Are you saying I’m nosey?”

---