Page 14 of Rectify

Every now and then I would think about what I would say to her if I ever saw her again. There were wants and needs I had regarding my life before Lily, but none I ever thought would have the potential to come to fruition. Apologising to Sasha Allman has always been very high on that list.

I pushed everything about her to the very recesses of my mind because it was easier. My mind was less messy that way, but now, seeing her in the flesh… I can’t get the image of her staring at me out of my head. Questions plague me, wondering why I never thought to reach out to her. Why with all the technology the world had to offer, I didn’t try and send her an olive branch.

Even with her hardened and confused stare, she’s more beautiful than I ever remember. When we were younger, I was attracted to her innocence and her chastity. She seemed like a good conquest at first, a notch I so desperately wanted on my belt. But then the ruse fell to the wayside, and she became something to me. Something real, something intriguing. Something that chipped away at that useless organ I called a heart.

She was sincere in a way that made me feel like her presence could cleanse the dirt and grime I wore every day. And for a little bit, she did. She didn’t judge me or begrudge me for the life I led. She listened when I spoke, and comforted me when I needed it. She was the only person who knew that the purple and blue patterns on my skin were from my father, and not a result of the embellished confrontations with street kids that I spewed as a cover-up.

In return, I distracted her from herself with the only things I knew; drugs and sex. It wasn’t ideal, and I knew better, but I didn’t care. She was like a caged bird, closed in by her huge list of insecurities, desperate to forget about them and fly. Surprisingly, I wanted to be the one to give her wings. I offered her every high at my disposal, enjoying the way she became addicted to the freedom. Addicted to me.

My heart was black and hers was white. Together we were every single shade of grey, giving life to the everything in between. We revelled in the reasons we were mismatched, and succumbed to the freedom to do as we want, and be the versions of ourselves we hid from the world.

In an imperfect situation, she was perfect. Until, I did what I do best, and let anger take the reins of my life. All it took was one night. One reminder from Hendrix and Jagger Michaels that she was theirs and the challenge was wordlessly accepted. From that moment on, my mask was back in place. Hendrix and Jagger had loaded me up with ammunition, and Sasha became my target. Unfortunately for me, I just didn’t expect to feel the hit too.

When I turned in her direction at Lily’s school, I expected to find someone staring at me. I could feel it, the heat of eyes boring into my back. But not in a million years did I expect it to be her. Standing there, her back pressed against the wall; my eyes left no inch of her untouched. Amazed that after all this time she was in front of me, I couldn’t do anything else but devour her.

Giving her an extra once over, I allowed myself to indulge in the natural pull between man and woman. She’d been a pretty young thing, but now, gorgeous wasn’t even accurate enough to describe the woman in front of me. Long, blonde hair, cherry lips, and a toned body that even the plainest work uniform couldn’t hide. She was the woman of every man’s dreams.

My legs moved like they had a mind of their own, invading her space like I had a right to even look at her after the way I treated her. In that moment I was torn between a man who was attracted to her and a sixteen-year-old boy who desperately wanted to make things right. It was all on the tip of my tongue. The questions, the apologies, the excuses I knew wouldn’t make a difference. Then and there I wanted to come clean, and I wanted her to forgive me. I wanted her to ease my newly found conscience, and then the hot-blooded man in me wanted to fuck her.

But the reality was years had passed, and she was no longer the doe-eyed girl I knew. Instead she’d been replaced with a woman who wore her beauty as a mask, her eyes the only proof that she was still as broken as I felt. And something in me wanted to know why. Regardless of how I treated her, or the way she felt even at fourteen, there’s no reason a woman like her deserved anything but a life filled with happiness. A life flooding with love, a man who makes the self-doubt that invaded her youth disappear, and a house full of children that would never know what it was like to grow up the way me and so many others did.

There was no song and dance when whatever we had ended. It was an unspoken agreement; hers driven by pain, and mine fuelled by regret and revenge. I never planned to hurt her, but old habits die hard, and my hatred for those Michaels twins won out.

Like everything else in my past, it’s not something I’m proud of. I was selfish and determined. I still can be, and when I want something, everything else takes a back seat. There is no such thing as names, faces, and feelings. I have a one-track mind and a body that almost doesn’t feel like mine. My heart, mind, and soul impenetrable. It’s always been a valuable asset. One that allowed me to convince myself I didn’t care about her. One that pushed me to believe the lie, and eventually life moved too fast to worry about the truth.

I’m not as destructive as I used to be, wrong and right a much more obvious path for me now; as an adult, and a father. I'd like to say I’m a changed man, but when you take away the reasons and motivations for all my past behaviours, you realise I’m just no longer driven by circumstances.

Some people try to buy penance by making excuses for their transgressions; whether it’s their age or their upbringing. There are a million shortcomings in my life I could use as reasons for the way I treated her in the end, but none of them, absolutely none, make it right.

Her whiskey coloured eyes told me it hasn’t all been sunshine and roses, things changed, and life happened. Nobody knows that better than me, and when her daughter walked in, looking exactly like the girl I remember, I realised that’s the only version of her I will ever have the privilege of knowing.

From the expression on her face and the words that left her mouth, I knew she couldn’t get away from me quick enough. Though, thanks to Lily, I know another meeting is inevitable. I want it. I want to believe that my reason for being here isn’t just about death, debt, and disloyalty. That maybe there is a rainbow after the storm, in the form of a woman with ears to listen and a forgiving heart. Nothing more, nothing less, just the opportunity to rid myself of some of the guilt that swirls around in my heart and my mind whenever I get lost in memories of the past. A sliver of forgiveness I can wrap up and take with me when I leave this place. Something to remind me I’m not a piece of shit, and that someone else can one day see how hard I’m fucking trying. That changing paid off and being a good father matters.

I want her forgiveness. The more I sit here and think about her, the more I want it. Determination has kept me company through the years. Ups and downs, no obstacle too big, and no hurdle too fucking scary, Sasha Allman included.

I’m a selfish fucker, and I want her to absolve me of all my wrongdoings. To wipe the slate clean, so the next time she looks at me, it’s with warmth, welcome, and understanding. She may not owe me anything, but I’ll ask it of her anyway. And she’ll give it to me. Because the girl I knew could never say no to Jay Evans. I just have to pray when it comes to me and her, somewhere inside, thatmyPretty Girl is still there.

* * *

“I’m going to take Lily to school this morning. Is that okay?” I tell, more than ask Max.

“I thought it was my turn,” she says through a full mouth of toast. “Don’t you need to be at the hospital first thing?”

“You can go instead of me, right? I’ll only be half an hour behind you.” I’ve been so strict with times and schedules lately, it’s no wonder Max is looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. She better get used to it, because until I bump into Sasha again, I’m going to be the only one taking Lily, and picking her up from school.

“Whatever suits you.” She hops down off the stool and heads to her bedroom. “I'm going to get ready. I'll see you at the hospital.”

After a messy breakfast, and the first clothes change of the day, Lily and I finally walk into her school. I'm trying to seem nonchalant, keeping my eyes on Lily, stopping them from searching for Sasha.

I place her outside with the rest of the kids and then do my usual routine. Putting her bag in the cubby, I sign her in and leave my usual reminder in the parent communication book: Call me if Lily needs me.

Max tells me I'm being irrational, considering the likelihood of themnotcalling me if they need me, is slim to none. But I'm a hoverer. It's not something I envisioned for myself, but protecting Lily is like a fire that burns and can't be extinguished. My love for her is something I didn't think I could ever feel, but it's there and it's the driving force for every single thing I do. They say being a parent changes you, but I had no idea how much. I also had no idea how much I would hate my father after holding my daughter in my arms for the very first time. The thought that Leroy and I were once as small as she was; so innocent and faultless. I can’t help but wonder what went wrong. How come we got the guy who didn’t feel the need to protect us or save us. He definitely didn’t love us, because if that was his version of love, I don’t think Leroy and I could’ve survived his hate.

My sun rises and sets with Lily. She is my life, my priority and my motivation. Any good in me is because of her, and for her. She is, and always will be my saving grace. So, if I want to be an overbearing and overprotective parent, then so be it.

I give her a kiss and hug before walking out of the room. Giving myself permission to look around, I notice Sasha is nowhere to be found. My mind spins with ideas to get her in front of me, in theory, she’s so close, but in practice, she’s just that little bit too far.

Footsteps have me looking up, and Holly, a teacher I’ve spoken to a handful of times, is walking in my direction.

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