Personal Possessions, page 14
I knew every room by heart and nothing about what I could see so far had actually changed, everything still looked the same. And yet, this was not my house anymore. I paused in the foyer as Patricia shut the door.
“By the way, we haven’t been introduced. My name is Patricia, Patricia Adams. I’m your mom’s daytime nurse. I’m usually here until seven at night, then Cybil comes in.
Nodding once to acknowledge that I heard her but I wasn’t paying attention, I was still shocked from the fact that my mother would not know who I was. I looked in the formal dining room that was off to the right of the foyer, and saw it was still set the same way it was when I was eighteen. The silver more than likely was still polished but it was never eaten off of other than holidays.
The heavy door shut with a click, and I watched out of the corner of my eye as Patricia begin walking down the hallway to the living room and kitchen area.
“Mr. McHale, you momma’s in here having her afternoon tea. Would you like to come and sit with her?”
I didn’t answer, I couldn’t answer. Choosing instead to just follow. I didn’t know what to expect when I walked into the large open family room, but I don’t think anything would’ve prepared me for what I did walk into.
There at the small dining table in the kitchen sat my mom, older yet still as beautiful as she was years ago. She looked extremely thin, almost sickly. Her hands were just bones with wrinkles and age spots covering her fair skin. Her wedding right still adorning her left ring finger.
She was still styling her hair the same, with her blonde locks looking as if it had just been set and teased out to almost a football helmet, which was the way that she always wore it.
I thought maybe she would be dressed in her nightgown and just lying in a bed all day, this was not the case. She was dressed in what looked like Lagerfeld or maybe even Chanel; who knew with my mother.
She took a sip of her tea, and set her china teacup back down on the small saucer as she hurried to stand up.
“Patricia, you didn’t tell me we had company. Hello there young man, what is your name?”
There I stood in front of eyes that I had looked in every single night as a child and yet, they had no clue who I was. She began walking towards me, and I didn’t know whether to back up or allow her to come near. I decided to not move at all. She stuck out her hand as she approached me.
“Sally Broderick- McHale, sir,” She declared as though those were the proudest words she ever spoke, “It is a pleasure.” Her smile was still so beautiful.
I had to make myself speak the words, “Trevor, ma’am. My name is Trevor.”
I didn’t want to say my last name, I didn’t know how that would go over, and so I just kept it simple.
“Ah, Trevor. I like that name. That’s a good strong name. Your parents must be good Christian people.”
I answered her truthfully and swiftly, “Yes, ma’am. My mom is a wonderful, amazing woman.” I was dying inside to have to witness this. I needed to have a seat and a drink if possible.
“Good, good. Glad to hear it. Well, what can we do you for today, sweetie.”
There was the name she had called me throughout my childhood. Sweetie. Damn it all to hell, I couldn’t take this much more. I should’ve killed Tripp when I had the chance.
I looked up at Patricia who was standing behind my mom washing some dishes that were in the sink, she just nodded her head at me which I took, as a signal to hurry and make something up.
“Car just ran out of gas, Patricia here was kind enough to call the motor club for me.”
She looked back at Patricia, “Well, it shouldn’t be long, my husband will be along anytime now, maybe he can help you out.”
I closed my eyes in defeat. She was still waiting on that bastard, the one that would never be back here again. I made sure my lawyers took care of that, his coming back here was not even feasible.
“Thank you ma’am, I think I’m taken care of though.” I smiled.
She smiled back, the same smile that was on my face. How could she not see it, how could she not recognize me. The more I thought about it, the madder I became. I had to get out of there.
“I want to thank you, ladies for your hospitality, and the fine conversation. It shouldn’t be much longer before the motor club arrives, I think I’ll just wait outside.”
“Nonsense, you’ll wait right here, inside with us. Ain’t that right, Patricia?” I looked back up towards Patricia with a help-me-out look on my face. As Patricia busted out with a shit eating grin on hers.
“Absolutely, Mrs. McHale. Trevor, would you like a glass of iced tea?”
I jotted down on my mental list to make sure Patricia was fired ASAP.
“Yes, ma’am,” I responded through gritted teeth, “I’d appreciate it.”
She handed me a tall glass of sweet tea that I knew would taste like heaven. Too much sugar and less water made it more like syrup than it did iced tea, but that’s how we southerners like our tea. I tipped the glass back and let the cool sugary substance roll down the back of my throat.
I finished off the glass and set it back down with an audible, “Ah.” That was always how you complimented someone on a good glass of tea. You drank it all and followed it up with an, “Ah.”
“I see you enjoyed it. I make sure to make it fresh every day, just made that jug early this mornin’,” My mom stated.
“Thank you. Yes, it was good, tasted just as good as my momma’s.” Her smile grew even bigger in delight as she nodded her head. I went to get up from the table so I could take my glass over to the sink.
“You remind me a lot of my son,” She spoke softly, looking down into her lap. Grief written all over her face. At this confession, I sat up straight and gave her all my attention. I could see out of the corner of my eye, Patricia beginning to draw closer to us, she must’ve overheard her whisper.
“My son died years ago,” I could hear the heartache in her broken tone. Sickened with repulsion and self-loathing, anger filled me from head to toe. I was nothing more than the bastard my father had become, for treating her the same way he did. Looking up at Patricia standing right behind my mother with her eyes closed. She was either pissed off that I caused my mother to relive this kind of pain, which she had every right to beat the shit outta me right then, or else she was trying to hold back the tears.
“You’ll have to forgive me, sweetie, my mind is not what it used to be. For some reason or another I seem to have a problem remembering, his name.”
She looked behind her at Patricia for some assistance, I was pleading inside my head that she not continue this subject.
“Ms. McHale, it’s your rest time darling. Come now, let’s get your situated, you don’t want to miss your stories.”
Patricia helped her out of the chair and walked her to the bottom of the stairs where they both stopped. I could tell my mother was imploring her mind to recall just one small hint of her son’s name or who he was. My name. I watched her shake her head in defeat, and continue up the stairs. This would end up being the last time I came here to see my mother. I couldn’t take the pain that was inscribed all over her face. It was so bad, she couldn’t even handle it and had lived in another world, mentally for years now.
I got up from my seat and headed for the stairway, I took one step at a time. I looked at the wall of photographs that told the story of my life. Beginning in preschool, pictures of me atop horses with my cowboy hat on was framed in a wooden frame. Next, was my kindergarten school pic, the inevitable snapshot with the two bottom teeth missing. Picture after picture, my mother hung with a heart full of love and pride for her baby boy. A baby boy, who became the man that had just sat in front of her and she never even acknowledged him as anything other than a stranger.
Coming to the door of my childhood bedroom, it seemed inappropriate for me to even think about entering this room. But I was looking for something in particular, an item that I had a feeling no one other than myself knew about. Walking in, I had to draw back my breath. The room looked the same as it did the day I left, nothing had changed. From the navy blue color and maroon paint that covered the walls, making for the most masculine room ever, to the bath towel that hung on the back of my desk’s chair. I know this because I hung it there the day that I left to attend UGA.
I knew where I needed to go, I was sick to death of walking down memory fucking lane. I needed to get out of here. Opening the closet door, I saw that the only thing that had changed was my mother had inherited another closet. Evening gown after another boring glitzy evening gown lined the closet once stuffed full of football gear, college hoodies and sweats. Walking past all the garment bags until I got to the back of the closet, I bent down and pulled up the loose floorboard that was back beneath a pair of high heeled gold shoes.
There it was, right where I left it all those years ago. The metal box that I kept everything that meant anything to me. I flipped open the lock on the front and pulled back the lid. Pictures of Elle and I laid there. Pulling them back to see the hundreds of notes that at one time stated how much she loved me. Call me stupid, I thought it would be nice to show our children one day, so I saved every last one of them. I left the notes there and closed the box. I wanted the photos that was my whole reason for coming here.
With the flooring fixed and the bedroom still intact, I walked down the stairs and out the front door.
It took me all evening, and way into the night to scan every one of those photos into my computer. I wanted to make sure she had every fucking one of them. It was crucial that she was reminded of what we were at one time. What we would be again.
I heard my phone buzzing beside me, I looked at the caller ID to see it was Rachel. I hit ignore. I’m sure she had heard that I went home today and I really wasn’t in the mood to discuss it. I picked up the glass of whisky beside me and shot the caramel colored liquor quickly so that I could refill the glass again, not even bothering with the ice anymore.
Another picture, another memory burned in my mind. I was beginning to wonder if I was doing this to remind her, or doing it out of spite. Did I really want her to feel the same feelings that pushed me to give up everything that I knew as my reality, or did I want her to hurt. Beginning to truly understand the saying, there was a fine line between love and hate.
I grabbed my glass and shot it back. What was in it, by this time I wasn’t being picky, hell I couldn’t feel anything anyways. I’d say it did the trick. That’s when I heard the beating on the door. I looked down at my computer, and saw that it was either one-fifteen or fifteen-one in the morning, and thought maybe it was my imagination. The banging continued.
“Goddammit, don’t you fuckers know what is considered too late!” I slurred as I stumbled to the door. I just got the door unlocked when Rachel burst in.
“What the fuck, Trevor!” She screamed at me.
I had to catch myself from falling, as she pushed by me entering my hotel room. Slamming the door shut, I turned to watch Rachel stalk to the living room. I’d had a pretty shitty day today, and I wasn’t really in the mood for this, especially this late… or early.
“Come on in,” I joked. Obviously, she wasn’t in the mood to joke around as she threw her purse down on the table as her eyes came back up to meet mine.
I slowly wiped the smirk off of my face, sobering up under her scrutiny, “I don’t know Rach, you tell me, what the fuck?”
Her eyes went over to the desk, acknowledging that she saw the mostly gone bottle of Jack sitting there.
“Is this the way you think you’re gonna get her back?” She walked over to the desk and grabbed the glass there and stuck it up to her nose, quickly turning her nose away as she sniffed the pungent odor.
Who the fuck did she think she was, walking into my hotel suite and reprimanding me as if I was a child who had just gotten caught drinking for the first time.
“Rachel, I don’t know what you’re doing here, but I think it would be a wise decision for you to get your shit and get the fuck out. Now!”
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what you think you are doing.”
Now I was pissed, and totally sober, she was about to find out that this was not a good combination this late at night when you come into my space and start demanding shit.
“What I’m doing does not concern you. Now, get your shit and get out.”
Suddenly, Rachel was in my face. “I’m telling you right the fuck now, when it comes to Elle, it does concern me. You show up after seventeen years back into town, no one knows where you’ve been or whatcha been doin. Why now, why come back now? You think everyone is gonna drop everything and kiss your ass? I’m here to tell you, Trevor McHale, you ain’t shit! You may have money to burn, have people dropping to lick your feet, you ain’t getting none of that here! Elle has been through-“
I grabbed the only thing I could get my hand on which was an empty tequila bottle from the night before and threw it across the room, smashing it into a thousand pieces.
“You think that she’s the only one who’s been through shit? What about me, Rach? Huh…what about what I’ve been through? I fucking died that day. Died! Yet, I had no one to turn to!”
I turned the other way and began pacing, I didn’t want to admit why I left. Admitting, would mean that it was reality. Something I never wanted to admit to myself, let alone someone else.
“Why would I come back here, Rach? I had nothing here to come back too. This wasn’t my home anymore! Home is where your heart is, and since mine was crushed and left for shit out on the black top of a driveway, I was nothing but a homeless dying man.”
Rachel just stood there, frozen. I could see the dejection and regret in her eyes, she didn’t need to say anything. I just stood there staring at her. I could feel that place in my chest was empty again. The gaping hole was completely exposed again. With what had happened with Bear and now with my mom, what would be next? Fuck up Elle’s life too? I was beginning to question whether I was doing the right thing again, when Rachel nodded her head.
I saw one, just one tear fall from her eye.
I went to her, wrapping my arms around her. I could feel her hands grab ahold of the back of my shirt.
“Shhhh, it’s ok, Rach. Look, I’m an asshole. I’m drunk. I should’ve never yelled.”
I thought maybe I could feel her chest vibrating from crying but there was nothing, she just left her face planted in my chest. I guess this shirt was going in the trash, lipstick was a bitch to get out of silk. I heard her sniff and knew that my suspicions were correct, this shirt was trashed.
“I know you’re thinking of her, Rach. But she’s a grown woman, this isn’t a fight that you need to be involved in. I know what I’m doing and I won’t give up until she’s mine. It took me seventeen years to figure out that I need her.”
“Just promise me one thing, Trevor.”
I looked at her quizzically. “What’s that?”
“Bring ‘er back.”
I didn’t know what that meant, or even how to accomplish it but if it meant that I had Rachel’s backing, I’d do it.
“I swear it, Rach.”
Chapter 12
Today was the day…
Sleep didn’t come easy for me last night. Or should I say, this morning. After Rachel left, I attempted to close my eyes, but my mind was too busy wondering about the conversation I had with her. Playing her words over and over again, the meaning just didn’t connect. Knowing Rachel and her cryptic meanings, I tried to think of every concealed word that was hidden in between, insinuating the true meaning. Still, I came up with nothing.
The alarm clock buzzed on and off telling me it was time to get my ass motivated, with the aid of Tylenol and shit loads of caffeine of course. Besides, I was expecting Elle to get those emails when she arrived at work, so I decided to begin my morning with pain meds, caffeine and a phone call to Elle.
Taking a sip of my coffee while looking out over the entirety of Atlanta, the sky was a myriad of color. A dark blue filled the early morning sky. The light had hit the atmosphere just enough to enhance the deep color. As your eyes made their way down to the sunrise, the sky became lighter shades of blue and orange.
I missed this time of the day. So beautiful and peaceful. It was as if God was telling us that we had a clean slate, try not to fuck it up, even though he knew we would.
I’m sure this view was indescribable out on the farm. That was one thing I missed unbelievably. The small town life. Reality hit when I heard the morning paper being tossed at the bottom of the front door.
I decided that I would be going back up to Burlington tomorrow. That gave Elle twenty-four hours to accept my offer; that would be plenty of time to have a yes or no answer.
Checking the time on my watch, I needed to begin my phone calls, if I was going to accomplish all that needed to be done by our lunch this morning.
“Listen Sarah, I don’t give a shit what they said, you can either fix this mess that you’ve created or find yourself as the front receptionist. It’s your choice. You know how I feel about it.”
I called the office to check in, and found that the issues there were nothing more than a middle school cluster fuck. I didn’t really care who did it as long as it was fixed, but of course with Sarah, she would always try and push it off on someone else. I refused to give her a chance to try and bullshit me anymore. Done listening to it, I hung up. Besides, I had a much better call to make.
I heard the phone ring. Once, twice.
“Loren Stevens’ office, this is Elleny…”
My god, her voice was like a drug to me. It sent me to the highest of highs. Warmth rushed to the middle of my chest, and I welcomed it. Savored every syllable that came out of her mouth.
“Ummm, hello? This is Elleny.”
Her words brought me back to the conversation.
“Mrs. Barker-Jackson.” I fucking hated her name. I despised using his last name when it came to her. I would make sure that she knew “Jackson” would not be rolling off of my tongue another time. I decided to keep this conversation light, so I kept my voice soft and alluring.
