Heartaches Knocking on Her Door

[Oct 31, 2013, Brooklyn]

Light gray clouds streaked across the sky, the windy day blowing up leaves in dancing spirals on the sidewalks. She watched, the car steadily driving down the busy street, as people, busy with their day, moved to and fro, a group of teens in their school uniforms going out for lunch, an old white haired women sitting at a bus stop, a couple holding hands as they sat across from each other in a coffee shop, a mother zipping up her child’s jacket, Liv looked away.

So what, maybe I lied a little, maybe I faked a smile a few times, it worked didn’t it? Than why do I feel guilty? She bit her lip, silently looking down at her camera, the one her mother had given her, the one she had taken that night, that night…
Photography had been her biggest coping mechanism, her therapist had urged her to channel all the hurt, fear, self-loathing, into her photography. If a scene of a mother cradling her infant child pained her, she had to take a picture. If the swaying rustle of branches in the breeze reminded her of the wind in His soft curls, she had to take a picture. If she hated, detested the very sight of herself in the mirror, she had to take a picture. And so as her stay in the hospital had lengthened, so had the memory in her camera begun to fill up.

Did Marcus really expect anything else? Did he expect me to be fine with the fact that the man I love hates me, will never forgive me, will never look at me the same, won’t ever love me again? Did he really expect me to just pull myself through the overwhelming remorse? Just be able to be okay with the fact that it was all my fault? Private discussions with her therapist, group discussions with other patients, they hadn’t worked, they hadn’t been able to dissuade her from blaming herself. ‘You didn’t know’ ‘How could you have known’ ‘You weren’t that far along’ ‘You can always have more’ ‘It’s not your fault’ She brushed a strand of hair away from her temple, fingertip coming in contact with the healing scar, she immediately brought the hair back to its former position.

She took a deep breath. At least now I can think about it right? Think about it with some, some rationality? Without bursting out in tears.

She remembered how she had woken up crying as she had realized where she was, back in the hospital. It had felt like déjà vu. She was weak, so much weaker than last time though, throat soar, body still so bruised and broken, she could barely move.

After being discharged from the hospital, only an hour after He had been there, the first moment she had gotten alone at her grandfather’s she had run to the bathroom, had violently pulled open the medicine cabinet, grabbing every bottle, any bottle, one pill after the other, but they’d come home early. Drifting off on the bathroom floor she’d heard Marcus’s angry yelling as he tried to kick open the locked door and her grandfather’s frantic call to 911.

She turned to look at her grandfather who silently drove, green eyes focused on the road, aged hands firmly on the steering wheel.

“Did I ever tell you I’m sorry?” Liv asked, biting her lip. He was old, he hadn’t needed this, any of this. Having to go to the hospital late in the night to be there for his broken grandchild, having to take shifts with Marcus watching her after she returned from the hospital, having to hear her sobs into the night and know nothing he could say or do would comfort her, having to break that door down himself and see her like that, bring her back to the hospital, leave her there, having to constantly worry about her.

“There is absolutely nothing to apologize for dear. I’m just” He suddenly began tearing up, his eyes still locked on the road as he drove them home, “I’m just glad I could, can, be there for you. That you’re doing better, that they let you come home, even if it is for a trial basis.” He reached out a head and took Liv’s, giving it a squeeze before returning his hand back to the steering wheel.

She looked back out the window, taking a deep breath. Things aren’t okay, they are far from it, but at least I have my family around me right?

She clicked the window down, letting the cold fall air whirl through her hair as her grandfather drove them home.

“Whoever could that be?” Her grandfather asked aloud after a few moments as he pulled into his driveway next to a sleek black car.

Liv grabbed onto the edges of her seat in panic.

At the hospital they wouldn’t let any visitors come whom she did not want to see. It was safe there, in a way. Even after Mige had come somberly by himself, trying to make jokes, trying to comfort her, telling her they were leaving the next day, not uttering His name, she still worried. Worried He would find her, would yell at her, blame her, words of disgust flowing out of His mouth as to how He could ever love someone like her.

Her grandfather put a comforting hand on her shoulder, “Now don’t get worked up, just calm down. Stay here, I’ll go in and check, your father probably just has a guest over, he wouldn’t just let him in, I’m sure.” He got out of the car and made his way into the house.

He’s right, Liv thought, trying to even her irregular heartbeat, calm herself.

It was two days after the crash when her grandfather had gotten the call from Tulsa that her father had woken from his coma. Warped with confusion and temporary memory loss, he had spent a week at the hospital recovering until the doctors thought him well enough to be flown over to Brooklyn to stay with her grandfather. He’d come and visited her in the hospital, and although he was slightly slower in speech and mannerism, got confused easily, he was the father she had loved as a child. The father that was clean, that had laughed and joked, the father that had, at the age of nine, bought Liv her first record player and record, Paranoid. Siting on her bedroom floor with her, he had taught her how to work the machine, holding her hand he had sat listening to the album with her on repeat, for hours. It was hard not to instantly forgive him the moment she had seen him tentatively knocking on the empty doorframe of her bedroom in the hospital. It was a cliché notion but something had changed within him, and as he had returned day after day to visit her, to join her in therapy to help her heal from emotional issues deep within her which arose because of him, to work on their relationship, Liv had finally been able to accept that she had nothing to fear, he was clean and would stay that way.

Although she hadn’t told him the full story, not him nor her grandfather, there was an understanding, a love had been lost, and that no further questions should be asked.

Her grandfather came strolling out of the house, a smile on his face. He opened the door for Liv.

“You’ve got a um, quite the interesting friend here to see you honey.” He laughed, holding his hand out for Liv.

She accepted it, slowly getting out of the car, careful not to put any weight on her right leg. Although her cast had been taken off, and she had been advised to continue using her crutches, she had refused. She let go of her grandfather, the wind whipping her hair around, her thin, cream knitted sweater flapping around, hand clutching her camera, she began making her way to the trunk of the car to grab the small sports bag of clothes and books Marcus had packed for her stay in the hospital.

“No, let me get that for you, go in and see your friend.” He gave Liv a kiss on the cheek, knowing not to even ask to help her into the house, she was stubborn enough to refuse, and went to the trunk.

It’s not Marcus, he’s back in LA. Not any of the guys, they’ve got a show in London. Who is it?

She gripped the cold brick of the one story home as she limped to the front door. The sky overhead was slowly beginning to darken. She looked out at the street, ghosts hanging from tree’s, skeletons propped up against doors, Styrofoam tombstones sticking up out of the ground, a few jack o lanterns already lit sitting diligently on front steps. Of course I’d be released on Halloween, she thought to herself as she stepped into the warm home.

She could hear her father’s raucous laughter coming from the living room. Cautiously she slipped off her black leather converse and turned right, into the open Living room. Against the far back wall of the living room was one couch, worn dark brown leather, her dad sat grinning ear to ear, freckles littering his cheeks, green eyes fixed on her guest, hand scratching the stubble on his cheek, a blanket and pillow were neatly folded next to him.

“And the name of the fucking hotel was called the Jury Inn”

A familiar laugh filled the room as it mingled with her fathers. Sitting on a matching couch, but in black, situated up against the left wall of the living room, sat a recognizable form. His back was to Liv as he sat turned towards her father, wearing a black sweater, hood on, sleeves pushed up showing his tattooed arms.

“Liv!” Richard exclaimed as he caught sight of Liv standing in the doorway, hand around her camera. “Welcome home kid. Hey you didn’t tell me you know Bam Margera!”

Bam turned then, a huge smile on his bearded face. The corners of Liv’s mouth twitched, but she couldn’t smile, didn’t smile, not anymore. A flood of memories washed over her, first meeting him in Oulu, that night, the club, Him as He pulled her out of the crowd, Philadelphia, the party in the hotel room, the washroom, that’s when…

She immediately took off the screen protector on her camera, wordlessly capturing a picture of Bam as his expression turned from delight to seeing her again, to confusion and hurt as he registered the emotions which had suddenly come over her.

Her father noticed what had passed between them as he got up, “I’ll uh, leave guy two.” He came up to Liv, smiling, and gave her a kiss on the top of the head, “Glad you’re home” He said before slipping out of the room.

She was happy to see Bam again, so incredibly happy, but the memories that followed him were, were too much, were painful, she didn’t want to think about, about Him.

She set down her camera and walked over to him, leaning down and embracing him, much to his confusion, but he soon hugged her back, holding her tightly before letting go.

Taking a deep breath she sat down on the couch next to him, bringing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. “You know, I missed you.” She said light heartedly. Since checking into the hospital, although behind closed doors she would break down with emotion, in front of people she was emotionless, her countenance, her voice, dead. But she didn’t feel that way, especially not with Bam.

“I missed you too.” He couldn’t help but smile. He had expected far worse. “So you’re pretty fucked up now eh?”

She missed straightforwardness, everyone was so careful, treated her like some china doll, she hated it. Her mouth threatened a smile once again as she nodded. “Pretty much yeah” She immediately adjusted her listless black hair, making sure that it covered the healing cut on her temple, it was one of the deeper cuts, there were more though, everywhere.

“Figured. But you know, you aren’t as bad as I thought you’d be, I guess I always expect the worse when I hear a friends been in the hospital, least of all for a car accident.” She saw the sadness touch his eyes. She knew why. “I came to see how you were as soon as I got back from Iceland. Drove down. And must I say, I’ve got fuckin impeccable timing, the day you get released.” He nudged her foot with his knee grinning. “Did you’re time and now you’re a free woman. I know what that’s like, except for the woman part, though I swear, I almost became one in a prison one time, if you know what I mean” He laughed.

He was trying to make her smile, trying to get something, anything from her. But it wasn’t working, Liv wanted it to work, desperately.

“Yea, perfect timing, all the monsters get let out today.” She regretted the statement immediately. “Um, anyways, congrats on the wedding and uh, um, I’m sorry Bam if I don’t, if I’m coming off as” She felt terrible for acting this way, but it was too soon.

He put his hands up, “no I get it. Like I said, I expected worse, I’m just glad you’re fucking talking to me. No one’s fucking talking to me.” He shrugged.

“What do you mean?” Liv asked, raising a brow, clasping her hands tightly in her lap.

“Okay listen, so I figured out where your grandfather lives after a shit ton of research, drove my ass almost two hours here so that, a) I could see you, make sure you were doing okay and b) tell you that, when you’re ready, call me, please. I don’t know what the fuck happened. Suddenly there are news reports that you were in a car accident, that you were in the hospital. I called him, he wouldn’t talk to me, got a hold of Mige and he tells me you were in the fucking psych ward. I don’t want to pry, that’s not why I came here, shit went down, we don’t have to talk about it, but I know it was something bad, and I know it’s gonna take you a while to uh, get back in the game, but when you’re ready, call me. I wanna help you get your career back on track, I wanna help. Me and Nikki ain’t moving to Iceland, we’re staying in West Chester, I’m only two hours away, I’m here, okay?” Liv nodded slowly, unable to form words. “Now don’t just fucking nod and say okay, I really mean it. I don’t say or do corny shit really, but Nikki and you are the exception. I’m not gonna let you go back to whatever the hell it was you were doing before, you’re talented as fuck.” He checked the time on his phone quickly. “Kay well I gotta start making my way home, and I’ll leave you to get settled back home and stuff. But seriously Liv, it would be a damn waste if you didn’t return once you were ready.”

There was so much she wanted to say, to ask. Why wasn’t He answering Bam’s calls? What else had Mige told him? She wanted to thank him, for believing in her. She was nowhere near ready to return to normal, but she’d thought about it and had shot down the thought immediately. How could I just, be in that sort of environment again without being constantly reminded that, about, Him. But the conviction in Bam’s voice. He wasn’t going to let her. She was sure of it. If she didn’t call him, email him, anything, after a while, he was going to come down again.

She stood, being mindful of her leg and wrapped her arms around him once again, “I promise I’ll call.” She let her cheek rest against his chest for a moment as he hugged her back, before pulling away and limping him to the front door.

He stopped at the door, turning towards the kitchen, “See ya around Rich, Sean, nice meeting you guys!” His ringed, tattooed hand reached out for the door knob but stopped, and suddenly Bam turned to face Liv grinning. “I almost forgot. I left you a sort of, I guess, get well present thing. I’m a shit present giver so don’t expect anything big or meaningful. Oh, and my new number is in there.” He quickly reached over, giving her a half hug “take care of yourself, please” He smiled before stepping out.

It was still light out, but a few children, accompanied by their fathers, their mothers, older siblings, were begging their night, decked out in elaborate and colorful costumes, empty candy bags clutched in their hands ready to be filled. Liv waved at Bam as he took a seat in his black car, pulling out of the driveway carefully before driving off.

She wanted to be alone, it had been so long since she’d been able to be alone, sharing a room in the hospital, no doors, no locks. She took a step towards her bedroom but stopped, limping her way to the kitchen.

Her grandfather sat at the small table, reading a newspaper, his reading glasses on the edge of his nose. Her father stood at the stove, a pair of red plastic devil horns on his head, a red cape around his shoulders, cheese sizzling as it spilled out of the grilled cheese he pressed flat onto a pan with a spatula.

Her father turned as he heard her limp into the kitchen, “You never told me you were friends with a jackass” He laughed.

“You weren’t around to tell.” Liv shot back immediately. She’d forgiven her father, but it was hard to get rid of the lingering resentment, the anger towards him that had been building up for years. “Sorry” She whispered. He didn’t reply, but turned back to his grilled cheese.

She spotted a square item on the table, half-hazzardly wrapped in tin foil. Slowly, clutching a chair to keep from putting weight on the one leg, she unwrapped the gift. She could have laughed there, smiled, as she pulled out a black and yellow book entitled, cooking for dummies, but she didn’t.

A small piece of paper slipped out from within the pages of the book and floated down on the table. ‘Thought while you had some free time on your hands you could improve your shit cooking.’ Beneath the short sentence was his new phone number.

Quietly Liv gathered up the book and note.

“Liv why don’t you stay, sit down with us, eat something. We’re going to watch some god awful horror movie in a little while too.” Her grandfather asked suddenly, stopping Liv’s retreat, concerned eyes poking out from behind his paper.

She weakly shook her head, she could feel it coming, they didn’t need to see, she had to struggle through, she had to be alone. “I’m sorry I just um, just want to be alone for a bit.”

Setting aside his sandwich, her father turned, scratching his head nervously, “Uh, listen kid, me and your grandpa thought it uh best to take the lock off your room.”

“That’s fine” She whispered. She wondered if they could hear her voice become fainter, weaker too. If they could also notice the change in her features.

She limped her way down the short hall, a bathroom at the end, a new door put in, her grandfather’s room to the left, her room to the right.

It looked much the same as she had left it before checking into the hospital. Boxes of her stuff were still stacked in the closest, the shear black curtains softly swayed above the unmade bed, the window was open, dull light shining in. Her grandfather had set down the bag she had brought to the hospital next to her suitcase.

She sat down on the floor next to her suitcase.

Being released from the hospital, being able to be in the comfort of a home, being told she is improving, she didn’t care about that, any of it, not today. Everything reminded her of Him, but they were only memories, she had nothing tangible at the hospital to remind her that He had existed, that He had loved her. A sort of masochistic excitement had grown within her as she had woken up that morning, all she could think of, in the back of her mind, locked away in the dungeon that hoarded ever thought, image, touch, smile, word, of His, was the remembrance that sitting, at the bottom of her suitcase were the polaroid’s. She’d taken hundreds of photographs of Him, but none like those polaroid’s. They would be painful to see, but vital, like air, blood, because the simple fact was, she missed Him.

She quickly zipped open her suitcase and began violently tossing clothes out until her hand found one of them. Her heart felt like it would implode. Why am I torturing myself like this, clinging on to memories that don’t mean anything anymore. Holding on desperately to the thought He did love me, He did. He may hate me for what I did, loath the sight of me, but He loved me. She began to tear up as she held up the photograph. Shirtless, He sat cross legged on her hotel room bed, staring into the camera, through the camera, at her.

The first time He had looked at her like that, with such conviction, was in Hildesheim, when He finally realized he loved her. She’d noticed, she’d seen some change, but at the time wasn’t sure, no one had ever looked at her that way.

Even if He hates me, I, I need to know, need to know He’s okay.

She found her phone, cracked and worn, but still working, somehow still working, like herself, sitting on the small cream colored nightstand next to the bed, where Marcus likely had left it before leaving.

She wiped at her tears with the back of her hand. It hurt, it hurt in the pit of her stomach, ached in her mind, and burned, crushed, disfigured her heart to know that all at once she had lost a child, their child, and the love of her life. In a fleeting moment, metal contorting, glass slicing, it was all gone. There was nothing therapy could do to change that fact. She learned to endure, that was all. Branches break, leaves blow away, fires singe, sap flows, but a tree keeps growing. I haven’t been cut down, not yet.

She turned on the phone, her back against the edge of her bed, all the breath escaping her as she saw all His missed calls, all His texts. She deleted them, all of them and called Bam in a panic.

“Hello?”

She didn’t care how she sounded, she didn’t care how ridiculous this seemed after his awkward visit, she needed to know. “Bam, just tell me one thing, please. How is He?”

There was a pause as Bam tried to think of the right words. “He won’t answer my calls.” He said sadly. “But I asked Mige, he told me on stage, in front of the crowds he’s just fine, but otherwise he’s uh, not so good.”

Her stream of tears picked up pace, “th, th, thank you for the gift Bam” She hung up, turning her phone off and crawled up onto the bed. Still clutching the photograph, the room darkening further, she hugged herself in the fetal position, letting her sobs envelope her, letting the memories drown her.

The door creaked, soft footsteps across the carpeted floor. The weight of the person pressing upon the mattress as they sat down, their back to Liv’s.

“I was always so freakin amazed at your mom’s parenting skills. She just knew the right things to say or do to comfort you if you, you know, scraped your knee or dropped your lollipop. You’re not a kid anymore though, and I’m not your mom, and you won’t tell us what happened but it’s so much bigger than you let on but, ah fuck I’m no good at this. I want you to, you know, know that you can open up to me.”

Liv sniveled, keeping her back to him, “I know, and I will, but right now, please just, just go away, you don’t know, no one fucking knows, you love someone, so much that not being with them, it fuckin aches right down, deep down your chest, and you miss them, and you want to see them but can’t, cause you fucked up, cause you did something so horrible that you could never face them again. They would never forgive you. You don’t know, just, I haven’t had a moment alone, please dad.” She hated the way she was acting, childish, pushing away the help offered, like she usually did. She appreciated his effort, loved him for it, but there was nothing he could say to comfort her, there wasn’t anything that could comfort her.

“Actually Liv,” her father replied somberly, “I know exactly how you feel.” He got up, leaning down and gave Liv a kiss on the head before setting two antidepressant pills down on her nightstand and leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

***

[Oct 31, 2013, London]

Lights flashed, cars like toys sped around down below, the setting sun obscured by light clouds, a soft pink glow tinting the gray. He sucked in a heavy breath before bringing the Marlboro between his fingers to his lips, the quiet sizzle as he inhaled.

He looked down, small figures hurrying, hurrying to a date, to work, home to their families.

He contemplated jumping up and taking a seat on the edge of the building, but seriously doubted he had the capacity to get up on the ledge, let alone to not accidentally fall over.

His hair clung to his sweaty forehead as the wind whipped it around, as he brought the green bottle to his lips before letting it dangle between his fingers above the passerby’s, seven stories down.

He set the bottle down, digging in his jean pocket, fingers coming in contact with the crumpled, taped together pieces of hotel stationary paper. That’s all he needed, just to feel that they were there. He picked up the bottle again.

The rusting metal door opened behind him, boots crunching on the gravel that covered the building’s roof.

Ville hung his head in annoyance, closing his eyes, “I came up here for some solitude,” He grumbled.

“I know” Mige said light heartedly, leaning against the ledge next to Ville.

“I’m not a fucking child to be watched.” Ville said angrily before bringing his cigarette to his lips. Yes so maybe I’ve had a few violent out bursts, yes maybe I disappeared a couple of times before a couple of shows, it doesn’t mean that, that I’m not fully capable of looking after myself.

“Tell me about the bike” Mige said calmly.

Ville pushed himself away from the railing, bringing his beer with him, and marched vehemently towards the door, but turned around abruptly, “You’re always fucking picking at it. What the fuck is wrong with everyone!” He yelled, “last time I was like this you all left me alone, why can’t you leave me be now?”

“Because this is nothing like last time” Mige sighed as he turned to face Ville.

“What do you want from me? I perform fine on stage, I’m not hurting anyone, I do my fucking job, why”

Mige cut him off, “Yes, last time you couldn’t keep it together for the fans, for recording, but you don’t see, se on sinussa.” (It’s in you.)

Ville threw his empty beer bottle against the ground, the tinkling of glass spreading out as it broke, “That’s my fucking business. This is my problem. And you know what? I destroyed that fucking bike. I bent the frame, kicked in the spokes, and tore off the chain.”

Mige’s eyes lowered with sadness, “Ville…”

His chest rose and fell with anger as his eyes glossed over with tears “Kolmekymmentäkaksi päivää! Eikä mikään! Ei sanaakaan!” (Thirty two days! And nothing! Not a fucking word!)

Mige sighed, shaking his head, “You’ve got to understand that Li…”

Ville pointed a threatening finger at him, “Don’t you dare say her fucking name! It’s over, it’s done.” He violently pulled open the door.

“But” Mige called after him as Ville stepped through the doorway.

“Not a fucking word Mige” Ville almost whispered, the words catching in his throat, small tears catching in his lashes as he tried to blink them a way, “she’s left me with nothing.”