A/N- I never expected to make this story roll on for this long…but I got sucked in. I've always known how I wanted to end it, but the road there is and was tough…Not giving anything away but something tells me that I've only got a few more chapters left.
Thank you to all of you who've kept me going by following, reviewing…and hell—even those mysterious readers. Thank you.
Now sit back, read, review, and follow.
CHAPTER 43
Day 3
It has been 2 days since Punk and I's little clash…things have been funky. After I came back to my room, I sort of had expected Punk to come running after me. He didn't. Should that have bothered me as much as it had? No…HELL NO, I pushed him away. Well, yeah… He made Colt leave Micks's side to come and watch over me.
Colt he tried. He really did. But I guess this was unavoidable. That day I kinda had a mental breakdown. Perhaps, everything poured onto me at once caused me to spill and tip over…I dunno. Things had happened so fast, y'know? One moment I'm fine, or at least normal, and then the next I'm in hysterics. Crying like a madwoman asking for Wesley and actually getting a hold of medical scissors and threatening to stab myself should Wesley not be called in. From an onlooker's P.O.V it must've been scary. Somehow they sedated me and strapped me to my bed before I regained my strength. Dr. Betty Azalea was brought in from the Psych Floor; to say she was surprised to see me so soon was understatement.
Betty at first was all nice and cordial and then…she became Dr. Azalea trying to assess me and shit. Telling me that I was gonna go through some stages of "Grief"…that's when I shut her non-sense off. Needn't hear any of that; I cut her off to ask for Mark. Betty just smiled that one smile people usually give to people they think need it. Whatever. Mark came through all happy and joyful to see me. We chatted for some time but then he needed to get back to work, something about "crazy new fuckers". He left his number should I need somebody to lean on or just to catch up. Docs stuck around but I assume gave up for the time being. She gave Colt some vouchers and her number for when "I'm ready to talk". Bitch please…
Pretty much recap of the past 2 days. After a couple questions and rechecking of my wounds…I'm being released. Should feel nice but I find it difficult to be going home without McKenzie or Wesley. You see, Micks has been struggling with her own mental war that she refuses to eat, talk—do anything that lets us know she's alive and sane. She's been signed off to the Psych Floor for further evaluation…she'll be out in a day or two. As for Wesley…he-he's dead. He's probably in that cold room where they keep bodies so they won't decay, probably all alone, slowly rotting…Fuck! FUCK!
"Marleene, woman, what's wrong?", asks Colt with concern as he wheels me out to the entrance of the hospital.
Here I am passing random ass people, crying like a maniac. They don't understand though. My BESTFRIEND, BROTHER…is-is no longer. Yet, I don't believe it. CAN'T BELIEVE IT. Just a few days ago, we were all partying together. He was laughing and enjoying himself. We had plans! Even before all this bullshit drama, we'd spend good ass times fucking around at the parlor or watching boxing matches at the bar or throwing mini-house parties at his crib. Maybe I'm just hallucinating or having warped mental illusions—yeah, like distorted reality. Marleene, ya…ya no mas. Esta muerto.
"Marleene, cupcake, talk to me…tell me where it hurts.", Colt is now at my feet, rubbing my knees.
I sniffle, "He's not dead, Scotty…ya'll just lying—pranking me.", I tell him with an almost cynical looking smile
Colt stares at me with affection, wipes my tears, and almost wills himself not to…cry? He stands up and keeps on rolling me out. He stops me at the main doors and begins to bundle me up. Maria put together a simple outfit of black sweats, Beatles tee, clog-slippers, jacket, and my Batman blanket. She's nice…and you wanna snatch her novio? The brunette man, now wrapping me up in my Batman blankie, took it upon himself to dress me—I wasn't gonna let some random mo-fo touch me! Now that he's done, I smell the blankie and it smells of Snuggie…reminds me of Mama Rosa.
"Alright, big girl, you're set. Now, it's gonna be cold—I'm warning ahead so you won't yell at me.", he laughs and puts an arm around me.
The sound of happiness in his voice is enough to make me wanna sink and disappear but I can't. Tears appear, "Scott?", i whisper sounding like a child
"Yeah?", he says as he leads me outside into the snow filled streets of Chicago
I stop myself and he stops too, "Why am I alive…after all of this? Why me?"
Day 5
Settling in was the easiest thing I've done in a while. Actually getting up and doing shit…now, that's a mission. Colt usually has to bribe and plead just to get me out of bed. My arms feel sore as fuck, so they're useless. Everything is done for me: eating I'm fed, brushing hair and teeth done by Maria, getting things that's little Dominick's job, and well yeah, you get it. Only thing I do by myself is piss and the like.
Insomnia has overtaken my body. I've been awake since the day I got home. Letmme say one thing: IT FUCKING SUCKS. Totally blaming on these fucking loud ass, scary ass noises. Every time I'm about to knockout, a random freaky noise resounds and I'm left wide-awake—trembling. I feel so grumpy and tired.
Dominick doesn't utter a word to me unless he has to; I lashed him with my tongue. Colt and Maria understand or well HAVE to. Phil…he stays at the hospital with the baby and his youngest sister. Said sister is due back today which means, Phil's coming back too. Baby isn't coming back 'till another week. She's now named, Eleanor Grace. Just how Micks and Wes...Wes.
Somehow, even through all the statements made by Maria and Colt…I refuse to believe that Wesley is dead. You need help. Your mind is fucking with you. They even showed me his note…the one he wrote just in case he died. I've read it over and over before but…I don't know—maybe there's a possibility that I dreamt his death or something.
Swivel of the front door distracts me from my thoughts. I look down at myself and feel too crusty to be seen; I'm wearing a tank-top, shorts, and a robe. Before my legs can even get the message to get the fuck out the living room…the door opens. It's Phil holding Micks as though she'd fall without his support. The wrestler looks like a zombie with baggy-eyes, messy hair, and stumble. McKenzie looks lifeless. Her eyes show nothing but emptiness and solitude.
"Mommy you're home!", shrieks her little boy happily as he comes running to her side, "Where's my baby sister, Mommy?", he asks looking around
"Phil…get the kid away…from me.", she whispers. Punk stares at his youngest sibling as if asking if she's serious, "GET HIM AWAY!", she screeches
This outburst sends Dominick running to Maria, who has just entered the room, "What's going on? McKenzie…sweetie, what has gotten into you?", Maria picks up a crying Dominick and tries to soothe him
"SHUT UP! SHUT UP, GODDAMNIT!", Boy's mother leaves Punk's side and begins to drag her feet in the direction of her room. Poor 4yr old wails even louder, "Maria if you don't take him…", warns Micks. This is a side to the woman that I've never seen before. Never.
"C'mon kiddo, let's make you a sandwich.", Maria mean-mugs Micks as she heads into the kitchen
Punk still stands shocked by his sister's harshness but senses come back to him and he takes her arm like one does to a prisoner. My changed bestfriend continues on her way, nearing the hallway, but stops to glare my way. Previously emotionless eyes are now filled with hatred and rage, "You bitch.", she mutters at me and I'm taken aback, "Because of YOU, WESLEY'S DEAD!", she yells as if possessed by a demon, "THIS IS YOUR FAULT, YOU FUCKIN-"
Phil pulls her forcefully, "Shut up, McKenzie."
Her eyes wild, "WHY? WHY? MARLEENE…SELFISH BITCH! HE'S DEAD…BECAUSE OF YOU AND YOUR DR—", Punk delivers a slap to her cheek and drags her away. In my shock and disbelief, I hear Micks screech, "DON'T TOUCH ME.", a door slams
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Phil comes back. His eyes meet my watery ones, "He's not dead…why di-did she say that?", I whisper. My ex comes to my side and embraces me, "He's not dead…it's Wesley.", Marleene open your eyes…you watched him be disconnected! "HE CAN'T BE!", I cry even harder and this is when I notice Phil's shaking body and whispers.
"Don't lose reality…no you too, Marleene…"
Day 9
Black a color that slims. Black a color used for sophistication. Black typically used for formal events like meetings, dinners, funerals. Black for mourning.
"Step through, Marley.", says Maria as she holds a dress at my feet. I comply with her wishes and step through. She shimmies it up my legs and hips, "Arms through, honey.", with a wince, I lift and put my arms through the slits, "Suck in the gut!", I hold my breath as she zips it up, "You look beautiful."
Looking at myself in the mirror, I notice that the dress is quite cute. Fitted bodice with an A-line skirt…it's black. Something's off about today. We're going to a funeral—they won't tell me who's. Poor family. Going back and looking in the mirror, my arms depress me, "Maria…how can I hide this?", I point to my scars
Smiling sweetly, she grabs a black matching jacket, "This'll do. I'm going to finish up. Here…", she hands me black heels and blood red roses, "Put'em on and hold those.", another smile and I'm out the room. She's so nice…
Walking into the living room, I notice Punk standing by the double slide doors that lead into the backyard...just staring outside. Even though we haven't really talked since…since the day in the closet…I can't help but want to ask him what's eating him. Mustering up some courage, I walk over and stand next to him, "What's eating you?"
Jumping a bit, "You scared me…", he rolls up the cuffs on his black dress-shirt, "I-I guess all of what's happened.", he throws on his tie, "Could you do thee honors?", he implies tying his tie
Gulping slightly, I nod. Setting my shoes and roses on the table I take hold of the tie, "So…who's funeral we goin' to?", I ask as I do his tie
"Um…Is Maria almost ready? I gotta be there to um…be one of the carriers…"
Inwardly, his asking about his girlfriend annoys me. We both came out and even though I deny it…I'm hoping he'll end it and just be real, "Yeah, she just needs to touch up. Where's Colt?", pulling one part through, his tie was perfect but my arms felt sore causing me lean against his chest.
"Already left. Something hurt?", he asks tenderly
"It's the arms…sore.", I reply. Hands grab my waist firmly and lift me off the ground. Gasping, I'm put atop the edge of the table, "Phil, this bitch gonna break!",
For the first time in a long while, he laughs or attempts to, "Relax. Gimme a foot."
Raising a brow, I lift my right. Feels like that scene in Cinderella when Prince Charming fits the shoe on the very own Cinderella because Phil is putting on my heel. He moves to put on the other one and lets my leg swing. His fingertips glide up my leg, mid thigh, and both hands land on either side of my hips. Phil leans over me, and I'm damn near shitting myself from the closeness. "You aren't afraid that you'll slip on those?"
"Uh…N-no?", he's leaning in and I'm fighting with my conscience on whether I should move or sink into the pending kiss
"Babe, I'm rea—", I quickly turn and notice that Maria stands confused. Phil 180s and runs a hand through his hair, "I-I'm ready…we can go.", the usual smile returns and she strolls by as if she never witnessed a thing.
Groaning inwardly, I trail behind her with the roses in hand. Punk comes behind me trying to whisper in my ear but I beat him to it, "Stop. You're taken. I really don't wanna hurt her like that…I know what it's like to be cheated on.", with that I push him off and proceed towards…Wesley's beloved muscle car. I can't do this…
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Once light tan skin is now some of off tan. He lays there as if he's in deep sleep. My quivering hand reaches to touch his cheek…its cold. My hand retracts. With his hands over his chest creating an 'X' over the Virgen de Guadalupe he lays there unmoving. This man, this body belonged to my bestfriend, Wesley. Now, that I see him up close and personal…it hit me that he really is gone like everybody has tried to tell.
My hands tremble as they latch onto the casket in a death grip, lips quiver under the teeth that keep'em closed, and tears escape from under their umbrellas called eyelids. Te dije, Marleene.
"Honey, there's people behind us waiting to say goodbye…go on, you'll be okay.", whispers Maria from behind.
GOODBYE? This lets me loose, "If they wanna say 'goodbye' then screw them. It's NEVER a 'goodbye'…it's an 'I'll see you later'.", He's really gone…Oh god, oh god… "No…", I whisper as I let myself fall still holding onto the coffin, "NO! WESLEY WHY?", I screech out, "POR QUE ME DEJASTE SOLA? WHY'D YOU DO IT? FUCK! FUCK!", my sobs drown out anything and everything else
"Girl, c'mon let's get up…C'mon.", says Colt in a soothing voice
I shake my head violently, "NO! I-I CAN'T LET'EM GO…MY BROTHER…"
"Mars, please…It's hard but you gotta keep strong…Walk with me, baby.", he says in an even gentler voice
"LEAVE ME BE!"
"Sorry…", the man literally rips me off the coffin and throws me over his shoulder. I'm here violently trying to fight my way back. We pass Punk trying to console Elvira, both crying silently, "Man, you needa help me with Mars."
Colt hands me off to Punk and the man tows me over to a nearby tree. For awhile all we do is stare at the ground silently crying. That is until I give up and let myself drop to my knees on the cold, slushy, ground weeping my eyes out, "I give up…", I begin in between sobs, "I give up. I'm done being strong or pretending. He was my bestfriend and now-now he's GONE. He left me alone! I've got nobody…My fam is out in Maryland, Micks doesn't even wanna know anything about the world anymore, everybody else…they-they—NOBODY'S WESLEY!"
Phil hikes up his pants and squats to my level, "You're not alone…", the tears in his eyes match my own. Sincerity and naked honesty wrap into his next words, "You've got me, Marleene, am I not good enough to lean on? I've lost my brother too. I need somebody to lean on…somebody who shares my pain—You."
To keep myself from feeling more of a shit-filled bitch, I wipe his tears, and embrace him. He lets go and sobs hysterically. Who knows for how long…who cares? His sobs become whimpers—all of this is a side to the man who I believe myself to be in love with…a new one—and in the distance I'm sure we can both hear the Mexican band playing, "Entierenme con la Banda", which means the casket is about to be lowered. With the only strength left in me, I pull Phil away from me and kiss his cheek, "No, I don't got you. Probably won't ever. Not until you leave Maria…which would be a horrible choice.", my lips begin to tremble but the truth hurts, "You don't need someone like me, no—", he tries to interrupt me, "no you need somebody strong, smart, and caring…Maria.", with that I walk away pretending to have confidence in my words.
As they lower Wesley's casket, people take turns in sprinkling dirt on it. It's a tradition. My turn came and I linger a bit until Colt gently tugs me. Thankfulness consumes me for him having done that. Elvira goes last and that's when it all comes to her—the reality, her baby is gone.
In an attempt to fulfill Wes's wish, I go to her and tell her, "El dijo que la quiere m-mucho senora…que sea fuerte. Que el hizo lo que hizo por su propia voluntad…Senora, el la quiere con todo su ser desde aqui hasta el infinito."
Elvira embraces me, a first. She sobs into my shoulder. The woman is so frail that I'm afraid to even try to detach her from me. Hearing and seeing how much this mother actually cared for her son brings me to tears…my own mother… "Gracias muchacha…gracias. Me voy a ir con Eduardo…esta es la última vez que no vamos a mirar…so, let pido que se cuide y siga viviendo si no por usted…por mi hijito. El murió tratando de salvarla.", I nod my head, "Dios este con usted, nena."
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Feeling the rumble and vibrations in Wes's beloved muscle car, I begin to wonder if life will ever be the same…return to normal, or even have a sense of normalcy. Being in this car makes me wanna jump out of it, if only to be able to join Wes and Fannie up in the sky, but I can't do that. So for the moment or time being all I wanna do is go home, slide under my covers, and stay there—never speaking to anybody.
Phil tries to test his luck by holding my hand, but I quickly remove mine. Maria next to him is holding his, pretending she didn't just see. She reminds me of myself. And myself is the person I hate the most at the moment.