Terrible Things

Brian drove for miles to get to the apartment that he had spent so many amazing times in. The girls used to own the small flat on Pacific Coast Hwy and they would sit for hour gossiping about all the boys they fancied and Rosie's first proper romance with Matt Sander's basketball couch at their old high school.
Brian clutched the steeling wheel so tight his knuckles went white. His eyes transfixed on the road ahead the similar buildings coming into view and the Ocean splashing against the rocks was all too evident.

Thinking back he remembered what she was like before she got unwell, before he became the asshole. Her hair was like satin, her eye's would shine with happiness and she would have a constant skip in her step. Her beautiful voice and the way she use to snuggle close when she got cold. The way she wore his hats and his basketball shorts.

♣♣♣

She stomped around the apartment, things began to fly through the air and seemed to aim straight for her forehead.
“You're telling me that she just slipped and fell on your dick?” She stopped suddenly, the once beautiful eyes not darkened, he couldn't quite tell what colour they were; but they were fierce.

“Sweetheart, I was drunk. We fought and you ”broke up” with me. I was angry and stupid. Sweetheart please.” He pleaded, hands in front of his face, preying to his lucky stars that he wouldn't lose the one thing that kept him complete.

“You are one lousy fucking liar Brian Haner. You've done it once, you done it again. I'm not taking your excuses any more. It's over. I'm done with your bullshit attitude and the way you treat me. You never cared for me, I was nothing but a piece of constant ass that you could just tap when you wanted it. It's not happening any more” She threw her hands up and went to the laundry room, the one place she can switch something on and switch herself off.
The sounds of her sobs got quiet and the only thing that could be heard was Brian's heavy breathing.

He wasn't upset. He was angry.

Stomping away from the middle of the room, he went straight for the white door, jiggling the small brass handle to find it jammed. He knew she never locked doors but she found it easy to barricade herself away if she needed to.

“Cole? Open this door, right now” Shaking the handle more, he heard the signature huff and tut and knew that she meant business. In situations like this, it meant begging and pleading, something a man found hard to do since it wasn't in their nature to beg and fawn over a women.

“Cole, I'm being serious. Open the fucking door” But he was cut off with the sound of the dryer and the blasting of the radio. He honestly thought his face was red with how hot headed he became.
With the entire ounce of strength he could muster, he brought his body back and let his shoulder connect with the white mahogany door, the sounds of her plea's muffled by his grunting and heavy breathing, along with the sound of cracking wood.
Breaking through he found her sitting back against the wood, sitting on top of the dryer.

“I told you to open the door Colette” His voice didn't mean to sound sinister, but he couldn't stop himself from letting the demon out of it's hidey hole.

“You're scaring me Brian. Just calm down and we can talk about this.” She held her arms out, fingertips pointing up creating a protective wall between her and the monster. He didn't speak, but he did grab her by the wrists and pull her from the dryer.

“Don't ever assume that I don't care for you. You broke up with me remember? Does that not make me single? I slept with her by accident, I was drunk and so was she. You are the person I want with me always. I love you.” Brian looked in her eyes but saw no change and knew he had fucked up. Well, fucked up as far as the ladies point of view was concerned.

“No, I didn't break up with you. I told you to get out and not come back. Did I say the words “It's over”? Nooooooo I fucking didn't. You fucked up, you fucked her and you fucked me over. You fu-” Before she could finish he felt his palm and fingertips tingle from' the contact it made with her face. His instincts was nothing more than a brutal gesture. He slapped her. He hurt her physically, not only mentally. Gathering his thoughts, he went to plead and beg but found himself on the ground clutching what he had left of his balls and listening to the sound of her feet hitting against the ground as she ran.

From then on, he was nothing more than just a blank face in the crowd of friends she had. He was Brian Haner, women beater.

♣♣♣

Shaking off the sick feeling in his gut, he found himself already sitting in front of the flat. The light was on but the curtains were drawn. He said to himself that maybe she was getting dressed into her night dress or maybe padding about the apartment in her shorts and t-shirt drinking some ice tea and humming Guns N' Roses. Her hair wet from just getting out of the shower or the faint sign of sweat from where she had been running her typical three miles on the treadmill.
Either way, he was going up there. No matter what state she was in.

♣♣♣

She moved slowly around the apartment, a white shirt of Oscars and a pair of sweatpants on. Her hair tied loosely in a bun and her face clean of make-up. She balanced the small pills in her hands contemplating what the consequences would be by taking them.
The small orange pills were going to save her? These things? They looked more like vitamin C tablets. The little blue ones were to take the edge off the side effects? More like scrapping the surface.
Pro's; It might help her.
Con's; Would take to long to list in her head and she was already getting a headache.

Turning around, she went straight for the waste basket. She was going to get married to Oscar and she was going to enjoy the time she had with him. She was a shroud, she was dying and she wanted to die with at least and shred of hair on her head and dignity in her heart.

“I don't need to give into you.” Holding the her abdominals and scratching the small scar where they had taken the only things that made her a women on the inside. Literally

Before she could relax with a cup of tea, she heard the sound of heavy knocking on her door. Smiling at the thought, she knew that Rosie had caved from her night with Matt to come see her and she had every intention of slamming the door in her face.

“You see, you should be slamming Matt not watching me slam the door in your fac-” She stopped short as she swung the door to reveal and disgruntled Brian. Hair a wild mass of black and glasses half down his face.

“Is it true? You're giving up your medication?” He pushed his way into the flat, the overwhelming smell of anti-bacterial gel and honey rushed into his nostrils.

“Hi Brian. Why don't you come in and harass me for the rest of my life. Which will only be three months give or take.” Still holding the door open, she made the joke at her own expense.

“Don't make fucking jokes Cole.” He rushed forward and she sheltered her face in her hands and ducked. The sight in front of his caused the images of her frightened face the day he hit her.

“Cole, Cole?” He walked forward and watched the tragedy unfold, her shaking body and the sobbing behind her hands.
“Sweetheart? I'm not going to hurt you.” He brought her into his arms and felt complete. She was much thinner and she skin was gaunt from the medication she was taking.

“You said that a year ago and you left me with a bruise that stayed for days.” Looking up at the same brown eyes she fell in love with.

“You know, even though we hate each other. I'm glad to see you.” She laughed as she wiped the tear from the side of her mouth. Hugging her more, he didn't laugh. His girl was dying and that's what she wanted.

“I came here to tell you, that you should take your medicine.” Her eyes rolled and she moved away from him.
“I've chose what I want to do. I'm getting married tomorrow, I want to look good. I want to walk down the aisle without stopping to throw up. I want to walk down the aisle with Rosie clutching my arm in emotional support...not physical. I want Oscar to see me at my best.” She indicated to her body, he looked to see that she was still packing, even if a little meat was lacking.

“You'll always look beautiful no matter what. I want to see that beauty all the time. When I'm 39, when I'm 49. Even, when I'm 89.” He stepped closer and touched a hand to her cheek.
“Please, I don't want to lose you forever.” He put his forehead to hers, holding the most intense star with the girl he's loved more than ten years.

“I'll always be here. You'll never lose me. I might not be here in body, but I'll be here in spirit. You just need to learn to hold on but let go at the same time.” She swept the hair out of his face and watch the tear come down his eyes.

“Remember what my mother use to say before she died?” She started and felt him nod on her shoulder where he had dropped his head. She moved them over to the couch, letting him curl up against her.

“She use to say ”God was never a man to judge the decision of his children. He wanted them to do good and to live well with the ones they love. Give back to the Lord that had given so much.” was what she said, remember?” Rubbing his head, he stayed quiet and waited for her to continue.
Staring at the picture on the mantle piece of her and her mother months before she died, she could even hear the words being said.

“I've lived my life and I've given back all that I can afford. I might not believe so much in the Lord but I believe that Faith is worth having, even on your death bed. You might regret some of the decisions you made and want them back but remember that life was so many passage ways and could lead you back to the one thing you can fix. I was given a life to live and I made a life to give back and I can't ask for a more wonderful thing to happen.” Saying the words made Colette tear slightly before carrying on.

“You make yourself a life and you give a little something back and maybe the day it comes for you to pass away, the one thing that you might regret losing, might come back to you. Don't look at it as too little, too late more better late than never.” She stroked his head one last time, before lifting it to meet her gaze. His eyes were red and puffy and full of moisture. Her smile widened and she laughed slightly, making him smile. She wiped the tears away and leaned forward to kiss him softly on the lips and whispered.

“You're here now. Like my mother said. Better late than never.”