It Never Seems
I'm so sorry for the delay. Having a professional life sometimes sucks. Thank you for all that has review, followed, and favorited. This story has been continuing for a very long time and I appreciated everyone's patience and continued interest in this story. Thank you for sticking with me.
Without further ado…
CAli
Chapter 11 - The Almost Meet
June 30th, 2009 - The West
"Keith, seriously, move."
Nathan was brought out his trance by his pushy teammate once more. He shook his head as if abruptly being pushed out into the real world. Things were hazy at first like he'd just been thrown from a blast or something and just dumbly stared at this teammate. For a moment, he felt like he didn't know his teammate or the fact that nothing was wrong with him. He seriously thought he was just regaining consciousness with how garbled his teammate's voice sounded to him.
"Keith, what the fuck, seriously?"
"I'm moving." He muttered, quickly.
After a slight jostle from his teammate, Nathan started to move his normal speed. His throat felt dry as he kept his Adam's apple at work and his eyes stayed focused on that bathroom door. How was this possible? How did he even miss this in all his stalking? Out of all the fucking hotels in Los Angeles, he'd be in the very one his family was in?
Maybe he was jumping ahead. He knew Lucas was here to show moral support to his wife. The one thing he could always count on was his brother's loyalty to Haley. He'd never abandon his best friend; Lucas proved a long time ago he was the better man out of the two of them. He was the decent one in the Scott family and in that moment, Nathan never felt more jealous, even in the beginning when his intentions to Haley wasn't pure.
Even when he started to prove he wasn't the scared jackass kid he acted, he spectacularly failed and left his wife and once again, there was Lucas being the upstanding guy and picked up the irrefutable damage he constructed. Then there was the guilt as to why the jealousy flared inside him. Lucas being the best friend he was to his wife did the only thing he hoped and prayed he would do when his cowardice led to Dante. Lucas was there.
He couldn't really fault him for taking care of his family, could he?
A wild mix of emotions flooded Nathan as he normally walked (as best he could) into the hotel lobby. The glimpse of Lucas meant he was the nearest he ever had to his wife in four years and his son— Oh, God, his son. How his heart hadn't strained and overworked itself to a heart attack at the thought Jamie, he had no idea. This was becoming increasingly stressful at best and so many scenarios ran through his mind.
Was his family really here? Was it possible that Lucas would be staying at a different hotel than the entire cast? It was, wasn't it? He was a glorified groupie at best, but he was also the primary caretaker of his son. Did his son stay with his brother while his wife stayed at another hotel? Wouldn't that be taxing and extremely inconvenient?
He was starting to get off track with all the questions that raced his mind and he forcibly shook his head to concentrate. One step at a time, Nate, he thought. Yes, his own sound advice was the best logical thing he'd ever thought today. He shouldn't rush this even though all he wanted was to run free, even if it was to the bathroom. Metaphorically, rushing to the bathroom had more reasons tied to freedom than ever imagined.
As if that's it took to break free from Dante.
Nathan felt the literal cracks in his dry lips and licked his lips but it was no use. There was barely any saliva on his tongue, which showed how nervous he was. Everything inside him went to overworking his throat as he kept swallowing the closer he got to the bathroom door. His palms seemed extra clammy but he refused to unclench them and swore he would never remove them from the safety of his hoodie pouch. His hood was up so thank God he wasn't that recognizable but his eyes stayed glued to the men's bathroom door. Lucas hadn't come out yet and he wasn't for sure what he would've done if his brother came out and made eye contact with him.
Would his brother even recognize him? If he did, would Lucas say anything? Would he embrace him? Would he be too shocked? Would he immediately tackle him and start a brawl? Would he punch the living shit out of him?
He hoped for the last part because it was the least he deserved.
His team was huddled around the lobby now so he stayed still in his spot. He barely noticed and almost walked straight to the bathroom because in truth, he was a masochist. If he walked into that bathroom and revealed himself, all hell would be unleashed. Everything would be out in the open and no matter how Lucas reacted, there was going to be tortured pain. Everything he'd done the last four years would be barren right there and then, even if his brother hadn't a clue. All the mistakes would be laid right in front Nathan's eyes and he hoped - God, he hoped - his brother would react in a violent way because he knew his presence wouldn't be a good one. He was a reminder to what he did to Haley. His precious angel he destroyed and he knew because her singing was haunted.
No matter how much Nathan wanted to fix everything and vowed to make things right, the truth just smacked him right in the face with just a glimpse of a side profile of his brother. He was fucking coward. Here was his opportunity and he was asking what-ifs. He tried to justify that he wasn't ready. A plan hadn't formed to kill Dante and get his family back. His biggest obstacle was his sinister gangster boss and he couldn't even defiantly stare at him. He was still a broken soul and Lucas had him all over the place.
He wanted to step up; he wanted to reveal himself to Lucas and hoped a big enough scene would be caused that it would be enough for him literally and metaphorically to break free.
This was spontaneous and he had a chance. Why wasn't it being taken? Why couldn't he just kept walking? Why did he coward out and stayed blended, inconspicuous? The anxiety was building inside him fast that he felt he was drowning within his body. Could he die from a phenomenon? It was possible, right? Just croak over, Nathan willed.
All the thoughts swirled at once and started to inter-mix in his head. If he hadn't so much control due to the mind-game abuse that is father issued out on a daily basis, he would've involuntarily squeezed his hands on either side of his head and screamed like a toddler in his scheduled, glorified tantrum. His mind was starting to turn into his very own worst enemy and if he didn't do something soon, he might be labeled crazy very soon. Calling it a panic attack wouldn't do it justice. What he felt in this exact moment went beyond a mental breakdown. Was this what it felt like to hear literal voices? The pressure in his head was building and escalating to something that was more than capacity limited. He felt the walls closing and the powered pressure closing inside his mind. He felt like he was about the be crushed into a metal cube or something.
He had to get out of a public place so he could break down in his pride. In a split second, he made a rash decision and quickly walked towards the bathroom. He was at least 20 feet away when he abruptly stopped as he noticed another familiar profile crossed into his eyesight.
One of Dante's goons entered the men's bathroom.
Nathan thought the day he left Haley was the day his world crashed, but this may literally be the day his world actually crashed. During his entire internalized freakout, he kept his eyes on the men's bathroom door and not once did Lucas exit. His anxiety spiked to a level he never knew before at the implication. The next thought almost had him hurl what was left in his nearly empty stomach in the closest disposal.
Did they know?
He didn't know what to think. Every possible scenario ran through his mind and all of them turned ugly. Would they threaten Lucas? Would they beat his ass right then and there? Was it a warning to him not to approach? If so, they did know about the possible connection that Lucas was staying here and in context, his family.
Shit, he internalized. My family.
He almost puked right then and there in the lobby. His body rigid, Nathan whipped his head to the front desk where the coaching staff was with the traveling coordinator getting the hotel keys. If only they went quicker. He willed them to go quicker. He needed out in his hellhole as his anxiety had everything closing in on him. He felt like he was in sick game where he was trapped in a maze and walls moved in closer every desperate move he made.
Tears started to prick his eyes and he couldn't stop the function. He wanted to move, demand a room already, but he was rooted in his spot. Part of him wanted to burst into the men's bathroom and stop whatever confrontation was going to happen between Dante's goon and his brother, but remember, he was a coward. He hated himself for not doing the right thing. The least he could do was somehow save his brother and be there as a witness. It would sign his death warrant but at least he had a peace of mind that his brother, and in part, his family was safe.
But he couldn't move one goddamn muscle. He couldn't even act impatient and get his room key already so he could wallow in his what-ifs. He wanted to hide out and curse himself for not doing anything but hide. It's all he wanted because that's all he was. All he did was run away and he was starting to have doubts of even lashing out and getting his family back. Lucas was a harsh reminder that all he did the last few weeks was just fill himself with false hope. How could he get his family back when he couldn't even walk the damn 20 feet to the bathroom and talk to his brother?
All he knew for sure was to run and hide. It was ingrained in him now and it was what he was wired to do. He was a broken man who never stood up for the things he claimed to love. Every time Dante looked at him like he was pathetic, the rebellion in him roared he wasn't but even now, that denial turned to a weak meow. How could he ever think he could be man enough now? He was inspired by Haley's singing but where was it now? Once confronted literally to face, he couldn't do anything. The realization sinked faster than a sinkhole.
He was frozen. He couldn't even walk to see his brother. It was just like when he got those photos of his wife in sniper crosshairs. All he could do was stare. His brother could be getting his ass beat with an inch of his life and he was just standing there. Staring at that door hoping he was just traumatizing himself with fantasies. Others were going in so there had to be some sort of semblance that his brother's life wasn't in danger since there was no noise of chaos. Even if there weren't sounds of anguish, it didn't stop the fact that something was going on. Dante's goons were relentless and it wasn't just with their fists and boot stomps. That goon could be threatening Lucas and his throat restricted because Nathan didn't know which one he'd preferred. If threats were used against Lucas then it would be revealed he was here and he couldn't handle that knowledge being known. He wasn't ready to see his family up close and personal. And if they knew, it would give Dante incentive to use them against him more or even possibly kill them because his mob boss knew Haley and Jamie was his weak link.
Killing them would absolutely cripple him overtly to Dante's will. Scenarios rippled through him like a nightmare at just what it meant to have that goon in the same room with a clueless Lucas. Implications ran throughout his mind and it was like witnessing an horrific car crash. Nathan couldn't have unseen what he imagined. He was driving himself crazy with all the thoughts that always led to one thing. His family would be in danger either way and he was so stupid for letting it happen.
Why did he have to see his wife singing? Why did he have to see his son on TV? Why did Haley decide to try out for that fucking show?
He physically shook his head in vigor. This was never her fault and he would voluntarily kill himself than blame her for where he was now. It was his fault, through and through. All of this was one big fuck you to him and his anger grew at himself.
He shouldn't been seduced by Dante's out in a desperate situation. Everyone had problems and struggled to make things work. He was one of them but he was young and couldn't handle the pressure of taking care of his pregnant wife when he was previously a rich snob. It killed him to hear his wife crying in his arms. She excused it as pregnancy hormones, but he knew the truth. She was stressed that they weren't making ends meet and that they weren't ready. She left a comfortable home to be married at 16, pregnant at 17 and all she had to show for it was an eviction notice on the horizon. She did it all for him and he was spectacularly failed. He didn't want her to think it was a mistake and every day she struggled not to show it. He knew. He knew she was putting on a brave face but he saw the wear tearing at her piece by piece as the days passed.
So he took an easy way out. He should've been the man she saw in him. He should've let his integrity prevail and figured out something else. He could've picked up odds jobs, coach a youth group, mop floors, be a test subject for the local college that did research. Fuck, even deliver pizza. He should've worked hard at overcoming a common obstacle when being on your own.
He should've said fuck you to Dante.
His regrets were now coming back to him with a hard, swift kick in his ass that rounded the corner, high speed. He needed out before he found out what really happened to Lucas in that bathroom. Because remember, he was coward. The depressed thought that echoed inside his mind, he deserved. Maybe even Haley couldn't change that about him.
One thing did work out for Nathan. Right when he thought he was going to lose his mind, like a miracle, his key card magically appeared in his eye sight. He didn't care he looked eager and practically sprinted to the elevators, ignoring the fact he truly had no idea where his room was or who his roommate was gonna be. This room was his sanctuary for the entire two games of this series.
He couldn't fathom the outcome of what would have happened to Lucas and his self-esteem pummeled at the thought. He was quickly filling his mind with doubts and paranoia and he didn't care. All the negativity was right. He was right to think like this. It saved him less guilt than he already felt and there were no expectations to redeem or be the comeback kid. He wasn't a success story. Who was he kidding?
He closed his eyes and even though the mattress wouldn't let him, he pretended to put more pressure on his hands as he sunk his butt deeper. He needed the numbness to stop everything that was going on his mind. The sinking feeling in the depths of stomach stirred with bad vibes. He couldn't shake that something bad was going to happen and he fretted that it was his fault.
Did Dante's goons notice his recognition of Lucas? It had to be their intention of a warning. The simple move to the bathroom right when the nerve to go in was tipping over the proverbial cliff in his mind was intentional. It was their subtle warning via Dante. The fact that the goon went in right before he was about to was a clear shot and a dose of reality of who truly controlled every environment of his life. Again, this was a threat if he thought about rebelling.
Lucas would only be child's play in Dante's sick, perverse mind games. The stepping stone to what he could do. There were so many options that Nathan squeezed his eyes shut and physically curled into himself as a pained groan escaped his mouth. The images in his mind was making him literally crazy. He knew what Dante was capable of and a small part of him cringed that he was becoming the one man he would kill if he ever had the guts.
His hatred for the man raged then simmered just like that because after all, the man he hated most than his father was right. He was a weak man; a slave with a voice that couldn't even speak. He was a fragile boy because of Dante.
It was an absurd thought, he knew that in the back of his mind, but the grotesque images that spewed in his mind was overpowering. He imagined in intricate detail exactly all the ideas Dante had in torturing his brother. He could very well become the vile, despicable man that controlled him.
His thoughts were all over the place and he desperately tried to hold on to that one shining hope that it was ludicrous he would even fathom the thought of becoming his abuser. God knew how long he had to agonize over the fear. It was a crippling thought that he could be the Devil himself if he knew how that man thought. If he had his wife's strong will, he would've recognized how knowing the mind of his abuser would work to his advantage in getting his revenge. But the mind games were just as brutal as the physical beatings. Nathan was never smart. He always credited Haley with the brains.
He wished so vainly that she was there to whisper in his ear all the encouragement he needed. She'd never have given up on him. But the first month, her soothing voice faded in his mind and he was eternally lost.
He tried to imagine her voice now that he's heard it again all those weeks ago, but every time he concentrated, Lucas' screams filled his mind. An image conjured of his brother spitting out blood just to get some relief. The crimson liquid seemed to flow like a serene waterfall down his chin and it just seemed like it was overflowing in his mouth. He shook his head hard enough to create whiplash. He was torturing himself, he knew, but it was like a horrible tragedy that captured his attention. He was trapped in his own mind and he knew this was a bona fide, super freakout, probably the worst to date.
Image upon image flashed inside his mind that led from Lucas' imagined torture to one of his wife's. He whimpered and willed his mind not to go there, but it was too late. It was like a knee-jerk response and his mind already imagined Dante's sinister grin as he stood above his wife's lifeless, beaten body. He rushed to the bathroom without hesitance and hurled everything he had inside the toilet bowl. Mostly liquid with a foul smell splashed and even when there was nothing left, he still kept going until his stomach cramped.
He collapsed in an upright fetal position and pressed the heel of his hand hard against the middle of his forehead, as if that would stop all the images that ran wild inside the trap of his mind. Tears leaked at the sides of his closed eyes and the moan was pathetic at best, but he didn't care because what he saw in his mind had taken over. His imagination allowed his wife to be purple as her cries of mercy were ignored and mocked by all of them as they raped her. His imagined self, just like his normal self, sat paralyzed and chained by doing nothing.
"Please," he cried to himself. "Stop."
He pounded his hand against his forehead for at least an attempt to stop the black-and-white film that would haunt him forever. But he was gluttoned to torture. Haley's wide eyes that was filled with shock and disappointment said everything. The realization her belief that he was her hero was a farce. All he managed to do was produce pained mews that didn't even constitute as weak whimpers.
I said I'd protect her and I couldn't even do that.
He gave Dante what he wanted so his family would be safe. They weren't, it was so apparent with what happened in the lobby. The simple vision of seeing that goon enter the bathroom his brother occupied moments before was as sharp and painful as Dante's favorite punch-to-the-gut move. He cried because it was all he was capable of doing right. He cried for all the selfish jerk moves he pulled before Haley that added to his karma. He fucked up so bad his family would die because he was drowning and took a life raft from a pirate. He should've done better.
Why couldn't he be a raging bull that saw the movements of a cape? Why couldn't he be motivated like he was before reality came crashing? His imagination was his enemy and he tried to tell himself with conviction that it was mind over matter. He was just torturing himself and he could get through this.
He believed in his wife and her singing. It was the one constant in their life together. It brought him strength and the first time in four years, he felt something that was so foreign but once upon a time, he thought it was ingrained in his veins. The confidence in himself seemed to surge in his blood - tenderly at first - but loud and proud as he thought about Haley and Jamie. His family was his motivation but now it was all over.
He was broken because at the end of each day, it was what Dante reminded him. He saw Lucas enter a men's bathroom and couldn't move. And when he was gaining the confidence in himself to make his presence known, a simple recognition was a veiled threat, he was sure of it. Who was he kidding? His mentality was stripped and he was programmed to the negative. He was letting himself get lost in his mind. He created a fantasy he couldn't handle. He was so fucking, insanely stupid.
How could he ever think he could get his family back without consequence? He was just another privileged rich boy. He was living a NBA dream he had since he was little boy. Riches he would've killed when he was barely 17, a wife and a kid on the way and couldn't even afford a $100 electricity bill. The lifestyle he envisioned himself at 15 was right there, he was living it. But none of it mattered. His dreams before Haley were superficial at best and he was so entirely empty.
Fuck, he couldn't even save his wife in his sickening pretend-state world his mind dreamed. How much of a shell had he become? He wasn't even a boy, much less a man. He was a measly, miserable robot.
He stayed in the same position for the rest of the night. He fell asleep and when his roommate pounded on the door, expressing extreme frustration, he still refused to leave the hardened floor. Ironic as the last four years of his life was, he stayed put, frozen in his self-loath.
It's what he did best, after all.
July 1st, 2009 - The Northwest
Dante lolled his head from side to side with his eyes closed. Blues music softly crooned the in background and his fingers played like an imagined guitar was in his lap. His mouth bobbed as if he was singing like BB King himself. The distant screams of another man getting beaten just made his grin go wider. This was his meditation; his calm, serene ocean quietly lapping against a silky shore.
"That grin flashes danger," a voice sounded.
Dante wasn't surprised as his footsteps echoed against the concrete floor. The best thing about the barren warehouse was that the walls boomed the sounds of chaos around him. He took great pleasure in a groan or a scream riveting across the entire building like it was his own personal symphony orchestra. It made everything sound alive and he loved that his control exerted like that. The pains of one man was his gain. They will always be his and he liked their tortured voices yelling until hoarse so that they knew it, too. There was no help and he was going to strip them down until they saw him as salvation.
Gruesome, malicious salvation.
"I'd like to think my grin calms a man." Dante retorted.
He stood just a mere few feet from him and he purposely didn't acknowledge him just yet. The man in the depths of the building had turned his screams to whimpers, begging for his life and the pain to stop. Dante's grin almost split his lips. His mind was clearing and he could smell the proverbial ocean smell. The poor man was breaking down and the weakness was like his energy source. His message to this man was way past sent, but he enjoyed the broken whimpers and the begging - oh, the begging was the best. The begging was like that first, deep inhale of the narcotic choice. Physically, he relaxed his muscles as he imagined that high traveling his bloodstream and instantly smoothing any tension his body allowed.
He took great pleasure in this man's pain. He'd be absolutely calm, numb to any negative activity once the man reached his peak. The moment the man begged for his family's safety, with fear encased inside of him as he desperately pleaded? That would be the time he'd achieve his serenity. He licked his lips at the thought. The man was close to sacrificing himself to his throne of power.
The man in front of Dante had enough of waiting and cleared his throat. He'd cut his eyes to him as if he dared interrupt his thoughts and feelings. If it was anyone else, he would've shot him point blank in the middle of his forehead. In fact, his eyes drifted down to the 9mm on his desk that laid there like the tempted little lady it was, all shiny and glam, begging to be picked up and used. But the man in front of him was just as sinister and crazy as he was. And the past four years, an ally, as he got his sick revenge on the one Nathan Scott.
"I heard your boy almost had a family reunion yesterday." Dante said, after a tense, brief stare down.
"It didn't happen because your guys." Dan said, the amused tone almost identical.
"It had to be done. I saved a quarter of a million dollars. Protecting my investment."
"Sounds like you're grooming another man to take Nathan's place."
He shrugged. "Maybe I was inspired by your sickness."
Dan chuckled and looked away. When he made eye-contact again, his tone was cold, which made him smile in return. There was still mirth in the psycho's blue eyes and he'd be lying if admiration didn't spark a little in his brown ones.
"Remember, Dante," Dan said, slowly. "Great minds think alike."
"You could've sent Nathan over the edge with the stunt you pulled. He's fragile, just like how I like him."
"It was a warning. One he hopefully gets, for what it is."
"I have a lot of money on your son," he said, after another stare down.
He reclined his previous stance and sat up in his oversized, leather chair. He reached for his gun and undid the safety while his stare never broke. He aimed the gun upward and imagined the projection path of the bullet if he fired. Dan just flicked his eyes to the gun and stared at it like he was mesmerized. When he finally raised his gaze back up to him, Dante clicked the hammer. If he shot, the bullet would go through his throat.
"I don't take too kindly you playing Russian roulette on my money." He said, simply. "Remember how we got here in the first place? Your son grew a backbone."
Dan stayed stoic and Dante patiently waited. Finally, the man before him bent down to lay the flat of his palms face down and straight against the oak wood that made his desk. He leaned forward until he was just inches from the pointed gun. Dante's breath hitched just a little as he imagined the bullet's trajectory firing up into Dan's throat and lodged into his brain stem. He wondered how much blood would splatter on his face if he pulled the trigger.
Dante blinked his eyes up to snap the fantasy from forming any further. He didn't have time for mayhem distractions even though the fantasy was just turning good and (pun intended) killer. He licked his lips and kept the infatuated stare that even Dan adopted on his face. They both wondered what it would be like to kill the other and how gratifying it would be. The tingles started to ghost inside of him at the very thought.
"He's spineless, because of you." Dan whispered. "I'm just reminding him."
"Remember, Dan. My money. You better know what the fuck you're doing."
Dan chuckled and straightened his back. "What I do best, Dante. I'm playing mind games."
A beat.
"Always a pleasure seeing you. Tell that man you're torturing… I said hi."
Dante watched as he walked away. Only when Dan disappeared in the shadows of his paradise did he finally rest his gun. He blew out a breath, all the sudden bored and a part of him felt empty. The thrill was gone with the bantering he always shared with Dan Scott. A small part of his heart felt the distant ache even though it meant nothing to him. Dante didn't have compassion, but he still felt a sense of hollowness every time the banter stopped. Pure admiration and presence was always at an arm's length away whenever Dan's darkness showed up. God, to be that guy.
"Will do," Dante said, quietly.
He spun his gun on the smooth surface several times and waited for the man's screams to overtake the low Blues tune that was playing on his computer's speakers.
"Will do."
July 2nd, 2009 - The West Coast
Nathan grew up in the South, so he was used to hot, humid weather. He would blame today on the heat but he knew it was piss poor excuse and so did everybody around him. The ocean breeze of sunny Los Angeles always disputed the heat. The thickness of the temperature was just a metaphor and he felt it like a sharp slap to the face. The heat as pressure to so many things. His basketball career, his life predicament, his family, his will. Everything was building inside him and it showed in the first game in this series against the Lakers.
What's it called again when pressure's built because of heat? Boiling? No, that's with water. Excruciating, excruciating pain. And Nathan felt it both in his mind and body. No matter how hard he tried to channel whatever focus that got him through four consistent NBA seasons, it wasn't working. Hell, he had no idea what focus he had exactly that got him through living the last four years. Remember? Every day he contemplated suicide.
He always wondered what stopped him and deep down, he knew a huge part of it had to do with the small, minuscule what-if scenario where he was reunited with his wife. He still held hope even though he'd given up - or at least a large part of him did. Now, here was the opportunity in the form of his brother. He couldn't stop being the coward he knew himself to be. He was conditioned to be one, after all.
Two days later, and he still couldn't shake this. He was embarrassing at best during practice yesterday and he had to pull some sort of surge at the very last second (he went hard the last 90 minutes) just to salvage coming off the bench today. That was sure to be a beating in three days' time once they flew back to Seattle for Game 3. He was supposed to start today and do sub-par to be downgraded to coming off the bench. Dante was very clear how his performance was supposed to be. His performance was worth a quarter of a million apparently, and he was sure to pay some way for already screwing up.
But that was the least of his problems. He still had no idea what to do with his family possibly being nearby. He almost hyperventilated being in the same city but being in the same hotel was astronomical. He never even thought of that because he told himself not to get his hopes up. He was not prepared for them being so close and he had no idea how to present himself.
Tony kept giving weird looks and did his best to cover during practice yesterday. He purposely messed up on man-to-man drills just to bail him out from Coach's tirade. He was lucky Tony was partnered with him that day. He wanted to tell him he saw his brother but became paranoid the moment Tony asked and he opened his mouth to respond. What if one of the goons was lurking in the hall, hoping he'd slip? He couldn't risk such high, sensitive information since all he knew was his plan of staying holed up in his hotel room. Again, the coward way out, but fool-proof and safe.
He always justified his cowardice with protection and maybe that helped him sleep at night, if at all.
He bailed on his confession and gruffly told Tony to mind his own business. He couldn't handle his semi-friend's concerned face that masked disappointment. Tony knew that this trip was going to be hard enough, just with the mere fact that his wife and son was in the same city, but he had no idea how close everything was in such a large geographical area. The odds were in Nathan's favor in the worst way.
He'd hope two days was sufficient time, at least, to acknowledge the fact that he might be in the same hotel as his family and his best move was to stay away. He needed to accept the fact, just like he accepted that his choice four years ago to abandon his pregnant wife. He had to let himself be brainwashed into thinking it was the right choice and his family was better without him. If he could do something that despicable, that inhumane, then they were better golden with him out of the picture. They'd recover while he got to live one dream of his.
He should've saw it the way Dan would've saw it. Basketball was his true wife. He devoted all his time for his first love and it was the only thing rewarding in life. He would've resented Haley for holding him back just like his dad resented his mother. It would've ended the same way. A family at 17 when he was a kid himself… He would've destroyed his future before it even started. Love at that age would just turn bitter. Him and Haley would've been divorced by now and Jamie would've hated him because he was absent and cared more about getting his glory days back than being a father.
Who the fuck was he to think he'd break the pattern? That would've been his life if he stayed. That, or the fact Dante followed through with his threats and he would've been a widower and childless. Either way, pain was his present and future. As much as he tried to love basketball to forget the most unforgivable thing he's done in his young life, he just couldn't. The focus was enough just to get through three to five hours a day, 185 days a year. After that, the pain was unbearable and he cried himself to sleep and contemplated ending it all the moment he woke up.
When he showed signs of fighting back, he was devastated with the truth. His mind couldn't handle the mistake he made and he was racked with hesitation and guilt. They wouldn't want him back. After all he did, even if he was given the chance to explain, that he did it as a self-sacrifice, he wouldn't make it past the first word. The coherent thought wouldn't translate because the shame would be so physical the stuttering would be the only thing even made sense. The cold, harsh truth was that Nathan couldn't man up to his mistake and he was foolish to even try.
But the temptation was so great. His family was literally right there at his fingertips. His motive was to run away but he wanted to stay. Every compelling argument he came up with, convincing arguments that he should continue to be pitiful, there was just one small voice that compared volumes with his negative pros. He was at a stand-still and his mind was jumbled.
It was a miracle he helped his team win today. It was a God-given feat that he barely scored the allotted points Dante wanted him out of him. He was literally all over the place on the court, fouling on stupid plays, sloppy footwork and handles, unnecessary shots taken, which made him 0-7 in five minutes of playing time. He was benched for two quarters. It was almost three quarters when out of desperation, his coach put him in and even prayed to God to get a miracle out of him.
Even with the tug-of-war in his personal hell, Nathan was brought back in time when the Ravens were down and was about to lose the State Championship. He remembered how he was letting everyone down, including his wife and he had no idea how he was going to handle that in of itself. Things were already somewhat looking up but his nose and mouth were barely staying above the rough surface of the metaphorical choppy waves. He'd hate to disappoint her again and he could barely keep himself together as he was about to in 16 minutes time. He wanted her eyes bright and proud, not dim and disappointed.
He remembered their conversation like it was ten minutes ago.
"If today is the best that it ever gets for me, will that be enough?"
He knew he looked so hopeful.
"Of course," she responded with so much dignity and conviction.
He felt her energy and was he was slowly building up to her belief. He felt the stress going away already because she believed in him. He vowed to always remember this.
"Nathan, as long as you are a good husband and a good father to your son."
He chuckled in disbelief and he couldn't believe how much pride surged through him in such a quick amount of time.
"It's a boy, Nathan. You're going to have a son. Although, I have to tell you, someday, he's going to tease his father for playing like crap in the State Championship. You might wanna change that."
And just like that, he came alive in the fourth quarter. He made what was expected of him, but the conversation he just remembered was like a power surge. He was once again inspired and played the best he did in 12 minutes. Spectators were surprised, commentators chastised him until his fired up performance, and the fans he did have raged on with live energy. He was wired and pumped, all the sudden top of the world. Just like he felt right after Haley showed him so much undying love and support on that faithful night. And when the high was gone, everything fell apart.
He was reminded of the aftermath. He remembered that was the last time he stood up for himself and his family. The consequence came soon enough for showing integrity too late. He lost his family, remember?
When will he ever learn his lesson?
Nathan was starting to feel bipolar as he rocked back and forth, his hands numbed under his butt as he stayed on the edge of his bed. His eyes stayed closed as he tried to focus. The even, deep breaths through his nose was supposed to be meditating. He was supposed to have tunnel vision as he imagined an array of things that signified calm. He tried to remember what it is like to feel Haley in his arms. When there was a time he shot a basketball and felt free. The joy and pride he felt when his wife told him he was going to have a son. The way the love of his life supported him throughout with un-wavered love, even when he screwed up multiple times.
All of it worked for 1.5 seconds before everything went to shit. He did so poorly today in the game and his mind was so twisted in many confusing turns. The least of his worries was his punishment. The one thing he couldn't shake, and he was worried he was going to do something drastic, was the remote possibility of being so damn close to his family after all this time. The opportunity was on the proverbial tip of the tongue. He could taste it in that sweet victory way. But really, was being close to the one thing that kept him going good? Could it be seen as a victory? He might've just put a fresh target on their backs. Images haunted him the last two days as he tortured himself with what-ifs. Horrible visions of his wife's bloodied body and his son wasted away in whatever crude, indecent way Dante would come with and he was on the brink of going mad.
He was at a standstill. Almost like a poetry of motion stuck between staying frozen or continuing the fluidity. Should he back away as fast or run as forward? He was extremely concerned for their safety as he knew what Dante was capable of but this chance was too good to be true. It was serendipitous, an active called sign from God. If it was from God, Nathan would drop to his knees and pray and preach that He really existed. There was so many variables and the more he thought about the what if's and logic, the more things seemed jumbled. He was way more than ready to take a chance but it wasn't smart. His family could be in serious danger but he longed for just a distanced glance of his wife's soft features and his son's chubby, boyish face that looked so much like Haley.
Tears started to form and leak in the corner of his eyes and if he was Dan Scott's son, he would wipe them away in anger that they even existed. His hand never reached up and several tears leaked. The tears only made it half-way before they pooled and formed fat tears then slid down faster than the slow, agonizing pain he felt inside his heart. The decision should be easy, no question whatsoever, but again his insecurities attacked him full-on and held him back. Look at all the damage he caused. He could never go back and things would resume to what it used to be.
He's just a damn fool.
Nathan got up right before the tingling sensation settled in his hands. His hotel room was his prison cell, trapped in four sides of tormented thoughts. In a daze, he left.
He walked for hours, only stopping when the crosswalk signs told him to. He might as well have been a daunt zombie, mindless with racing thoughts that led to nowhere. He ignored his surroundings as he tried to focus on what this walk was supposed to do.
It did nothing to ease his mind. The more he walked, the more scenarios popped in his mind, fading in and out between fantasy and nightmare. He imagined all possibilities, ranging from pure glee in reunion to devastation in heartbreak over his murdered wife and son. He thought about how inconsolable a reunion would result in either way. How the joy or grief varied, heavily dependent on the sole reaction from Haley. He wondered how he didn't just walk into traffic to end it all.
It was a blank blur on how he ended back to the hotel. If he was focused on his paranoia, he would've avoided the one place that started his state of mess in the first place. But instead, he beelined for the men's bathroom like an unconscious beacon that promised fulfillment and everlasting peace.
After all, he's been a fucking idiot for the past four years.
Nathan didn't make the connection that this bathroom held special meaning until the door opened, signifying why he should've avoided this place like it was a sinkhole. How appropriate, since he was sinking fast in his mind. He was mentally exhausted to the bone. Physically taxed from that grueling game that was more than a mental game of will over guts. He ached all over and it was miracle he didn't break down in a psychotic break. There was only so much he could take and he felt like he was losing grip to what was logic and reality.
He gripped the counter of the sink and tried to focus one more time. When was the last time Haley truly smiled at me? He silently thought and his accelerated breathing changed tempo to calm, even breaths through his nose. The image was immediate and simple and it was right after he screwed Dante and won the State Championship, fulfilling not only Whitey's lifelong dream and goal but the school of Tree Hill High itself. It was a common goal for everyone who had the honor of putting on the basketball jersey representing Tree Hill. It was his all-time honor in his young life to bring the championship home and after one pep-talk from his wife, nothing else mattered than making his teammates proud and the town itself. The Ravens deserved that championship and Haley's reminder of how great he'd become and learned how to be unselfish and a better man and father to his son was the absolute best joy he had ever experienced.
The way his wife smiled at him, it was like her pride was shining through like the rays of sun bursting through her heart and smile. He knew as they celebrated in Karen's Cafe just how damn proud and in love she was with him. He wished he could show a fraction of that to her. And he made a silent promise that he was going to try in every way to show how much he was in love with her and how proud he was of her music career and how devoted she already was to their son.
He tried to focus on the good, but the consequences of his actions filtered through his mind, effectively train-wrecking any happy thoughts. He should've known by now anything good had something bad attached right along with it and it was only a matter of time before the good thoughts morphed to reality of the bad. The reality was that he was a fuck-up and anything good turned bad. He never deserved happiness. Look what he did to his family and he wanted them back? How could he remotely explain that what he did was a fucked version of unselfishness? That he was protecting his family? He never saw it that way and if he didn't believe that, why would his brother, wife, and son?
The doubts were powerful.
His grip on the edge of the counter squeezed until the marble material cut into his palms until the pain was unbearable. He gave a frustrated growl and violently shook his head left to right as he kept his eyes closed. He released his grip on the counter but still needed something to do with his hands or he would go crazy. He used unnecessary force to turn on the facet. The water sprayed down into the oval sink with high power and Nathan briefly thought what it would be like to drown in overpowering water. What if he committed suicide by drowning in the terrifying water rapids that geographical explorers always talked about how angry and powerful those waves could be? How punishing the pressure was to a human body. It would be the perfect way to die.
Drowning was a glorified metaphor these days for him.
"Hey, man, are you okay?" A voice sounded behind him and his eyes popped wide as he recognized the man's voice.
He had a split second to decide what to do and the panic built speed inside him. If there was ever a time to break down in a crazy fit, now would've been it. Nathan stayed still and tried to logically come up with a way not to make eye contact with Lucas, who stood just a few feet away from him with a concerned look on his face. He stayed glued in his bent position and tried to focus on the water but his brother was in his peripheral looking the same but all the older and it seemed his compassion only grew as the years went by. Lucas stared at him like he wasn't crazy but that he maybe needed a friend and he was willing to be that for him. He cursed his brother's kindness because like predicted, when confronted with the cold fact, he was a coward. A spineless bastard who couldn't break free from the one man who ruined his life, who willingly did his bidding and couldn't even end his own life to stop the unbearable pain he tortured himself with every day.
He couldn't speak in fear that his voice hadn't changed and Lucas would recognize him. He willed himself to be rude and it would turn off his brother from approaching. He tried to channel the boy he used to be pre-Haley. He was a major dick to Lucas simply because he lived and he wished he could gather that hatred just enough to escape the bathroom. Time was wasting and Lucas took cautious steps toward him, his voice light but laced with concern as he asked again if he was okay. Nathan bit his bottom lip and started to feel his shoulders tremble. He had to do something and he hoped a glare would just do to get his brother to back off.
Lucas was an arm's length away when Nathan abruptly pivoted to face him. He glared hard and he thought it did the trick as his brother stumbled back in surprise. A small gasp escaped him as he stared fully for the first time in four years. Lucas definitely had grown-up in his four-year absence. His face thinned out the baby face he kind of had and he could tell his brother grew up to major muscle mass as he wasn't that skinny dweeb he was in high school. The dirty blond facial hair was almost brown and it filled out his face which made him look more mature. He looked like he was growing his goatee into light beard and it worked well for him. Up close, Nathan saw the growing lines in his face that truly showed his brother was taking on more than he should. A pang hit hard inside that his brother was raising his son because he royally fucked up point-shaving.
He should've walked away then but he was familiar with pain. As he tortured himself in this small reunion, something was forming in Lucas' face. At first, the knitted eyebrows seemed to be of confusion but as the stare-down continued, it was more of intent. His ocean blue eyes, the same of his, stayed focused as he worked out whatever seemed impossible in his mind. Nathan saw as everything slowly clicked and he should've just walked away. He should've been the coward he always knew himself to be. But maybe, just maybe, he wanted Lucas to recognize him.
His bleached blond hair worked well with his pale complexion and ocean eyes and he looked like any other West Coast male. But the in-plain-sight disguise was no fool for his brother. Lucas stared focused at his eyes and Nathan knew the exact moment he knew.
"Nathan?" Lucas gasped.
He should've denied it. He should've been smart and walked away. He should've been a coward.
"Yes." He replied, simply.
End of Chapter 11
I hope you enjoyed the deepness I went with Nathan's depression and paranoia. Review if you'd like. Thank you again for sticking with me.
CAli