Reawaken His Heart Read online

  I head to the bathroom and turn on the shower to let the water run and warm up before I climb in. It feels wonderful running down my tired body, so I just stand there and soak it all in. I’ve got a job I love, the woman I’ve loved for many years, and warm water relaxing my tired bones. I’m in heaven.

  ***

  I make my way out of the bedroom and head toward the kitchen, where I find Brooklynn sitting at the table with her head in her hands crying, and I am immediately on edge. What the fuck happened in the fifteen minutes I was in the shower?

  “Baby, what’s the matter,” I ask kneeling by her side.

  “I don’t know, Brae. I can’t take the pain right now. This is the worst headache I’ve ever had. I feel dizzy and nauseous.” And those are the last words I hear before she falls out of the chair and onto the floor, unconscious. I know this isn’t good. All my medical training tells me this, so I call 911 while I try to determine what is happening to my wife.

  The ride to the hospital is the longest ride I’ve ever taken, and trust me, I’ve taken this trip many times at work. But this one seems like it takes hours when in fact it’s only several minutes. When we arrive, they wheel Brooklynn away from me, and I’m stuck in the hallway while nurses ask me all kinds of questions. I’m trying to answer them, but my mind is with my wife, and my heart is in my stomach.

  It seems like forever until I finally get to talk to the doctor, and what he tells me is not good. Brooklynn had a stroke that was caused by an aneurysm and is now in a coma. The prognosis is not good, but there is hope. Only time will tell. I drop to my knees and cry, wondering how this all has happened so quickly. One minute we’re having the best sex, and the next my world is crumbling around me.

  My mom and Margaret Marsden are in tears, and Michael Marsden is trying to calm them down. My dad is by my side with his hand on my shoulder, trying to give me strength. It’s been a couple of hours, and things have gotten worse. Brooklynn is on life support, but her brain is officially dead. The moms are having a hard time coming to terms with this. I totally understand it, and I know that once I agree to pull the life support, her heart and lungs will stop working and that will be it. I feel like a vice is squeezing my heart, and I know that from this moment on nothing will ever feel the same.

  I’m the one who holds the power here; it’s my decision to pull the plug, but how can I do that? How do I play God when so much is at stake? If I do this, Magaret will never forgive me. She’ll call me a killer. I’ll no longer be the man who loved her daughter with all his heart. Instead, I’ll be the inconsiderate man who stole her baby away from her, who ended her daughter’s life and shattered her world into a million pieces.

  My mom understands the decision I have to make. I’m only prolonging the inevitable, but that doesn’t make it any easier to sign my name on the dotted line. My mom and dad try to give me comfort by telling me I know the right thing to do, and though it kills me to do this, I know they are right. Margaret, on the other hand, is begging me to hold off, to wait for a miracle. It doesn’t matter how many times the doctor has told her there is no hope; she can’t seem to understand that. Michael clasps me on the shoulder and walks out of the room.

  How do I do this? I know what I have to do, but how do I do it? I’ve prayed for guidance, for the right words to say to Margaret to make her understand that this isn’t easy for me either. Brooklynn was the love of my life. We were inseparable all through high school. She supported everything I did and everything I wanted. Would she support this decision if she were standing beside me? Would she understand that I didn’t give up on us, on her? I have to hope that I can recover from this, but right now, this feels like one hell I’ll never be able to come back from.

  I walk to the door and reach for the handle to open it when I hear Margaret say, “Please, Braedyn, don’t do this. Don’t take my baby from me.” And I can’t take it anymore. This shit has to end now, no prolonging it any further. It’s inevitable; the pain won’t get any easier the longer I wait. I head to the nurses’ station and see the doctor there. He looks my way, and I tell him it’s time. He gives us a few minutes to say our last good-byes. After my parents leave and Michael takes Margaret away in tears, I sit down beside Brooklynn, take her hand in mine, and say the words I know are only for myself because she can’t hear them, but in my heart I hope she can hear them from up above.

  “I’m sorry, baby, that I have to do this. It’s killing me more than you can imagine. You are my life. How I will go on without you, I have no idea, but know that I loved you more than life itself, that every day from here on out will be empty without you and that I’ll love you for the rest of my life. Good-bye, sweetheart.” I kiss her lips one last time and know that my life will never be the same again.

  ***

  Present day

  My life spiraled out of control for the first year after Brooklynn was taken from me. For months, I drank myself to sleep every night. I took a leave of absence from work, because how could I save others if I couldn’t save my own wife? I was useless, and everything felt wrong. I sold the house we owned, moved into a condo, and tried to start life over without her. My life had no purpose, and even my family couldn’t offer the peace I needed to calm my restless soul. It took a while for me to get my life in somewhat of an order, to get back to work and to feel like I had a purpose again, but even still, I can’t bring myself to find complete happiness.

  It’s Saturday, and the sun is shining through my window. I wake up to find a nameless face next to me and roll out of bed and walk to the bathroom. I don’t remember falling asleep; it’s against everything I believe in to let a girl stay. It sends the wrong message, so how did I let this happen? I pause in the door and look back to my bed, wondering what I was thinking last night. Oh yeah, I wasn’t. It’s been the same thing over and over during the last two years. I work when I’m supposed to, then I head to the bar, drink till I’m feeling no pain, and on occasion, I’ll throw in finding some girl who is easy on the eyes and take her home to fuck, toss her out, and then I pass out from exhaustion. It’s the same routine for me day in and day out. Nothing changes except for the girl. It’s never the same girl, and it never can be. I can’t give into emotions anymore. More like I won’t. There was only one girl for me, and she’s gone. No one can ever take her place. I will never allow myself to be in that position again.

  I shake my head and make my way to the shower, wash the stench of alcohol and sex off me, and get dressed. I pick up the clothing belonging to the girl in my bed and place it on the chair on her side before I shake her awake. Her eyes open and she smiles. “Good morning, handsome,” she says, and I just look at her. Again, what was I thinking last night?

  “It’s time for you to go,” I tell her, and she looks at me confused and sad.

  “What?” she says, so again I tell her it’s time for her to go. She’s worn out her welcome. “I don’t understand,” she says to me.

  So I guess I’m going to have to spell it out for her. “Look, I’m sure you are a great girl,” I tell her, “but this was just what it was. We shared a night, but when the sun comes up, the night is over, and that means you leave.” She’s staring at me like I’m a complete ass. And you know what? She’s right. I am an ass. And I enjoy being an ass. “I don’t know what you want from me, um, what was your name again?” I ask

  “Barbie,” she says. Of course, it is.

  “OK, Barbie, well, last night was just that. Last night. And now I have things to do today, so I need you to get up, get dressed, and leave.” I know I'm a dick, but I’m not here to build a lasting relationship, and I’ll never see her again, so she needs to leave. She grabs her clothes off the chair, gets dressed, and calls me a dick as she walks out the door.

  I call Scott and tell him I’m headed his way for the day and jump in my truck and drive. Scott has been my best friend since we were kids. We went to the academy together and started working at the same station five years ago. He stuck by my side through ev
erything and doesn’t judge me. He married a wonderful woman last year, and I was happy he found his one true love. I hope he never has to feel what I had to.

  When I arrive, Jeanette, his wife, opens the door and shakes her head. “You look like hell, Braedyn, another long night with another skank, I take it.” I just smile my shit-eating grin at her and walk past her into the backyard. Scott hands me a beer, and I take a seat on the lounge and just relax. We shoot the shit for hours about everything and nothing, and when the sun sets, I head for home to pass out, because I’ve got work tomorrow.

  I’m cruising down the back road. It’s after ten, so it’s pitch black. It’s one of the things I hate about being outside the city, but it’s also one of the things I love as well. Without the street lights, you can’t see shit in front of you, but when you look up at the sky, you can see the thousand little stars you don’t see when you live in the city. Scott loves living out here, but me, I’m a city guy. I need the hustle and bustle and the constant reminder that I am not alone in this world, even though every day feels like I am.

  I’m rounding the bend in the road when I see it, a car upside down in the ditch, tires still spinning and smoke coming from under the hood. I get out of the truck and head for the car…

  Rylee

  Three years earlier

  OVER THE LAST TWO years, I’ve become someone I don’t recognize. I look out the bathroom door into my bedroom and just really look at Colt. How did I let myself get here? When he drove me home that evening two years ago, I never thought I would see him again, but I was wrong. For weeks, he called trying to get me to go out with him again. I knew he was bad news from the minute we got to his condo, but the fool in me wanted so badly to have what Bailey and Chris had that I gave in and decided to give Colt one more chance. Now, I’m staring at myself in the mirror, wondering who I have become.

  Growing up, I didn’t date much. I was raised on a farm, spent most of my days before and after school doing chores. I didn’t have friends I could hang out with like normal kids. My brother was my best friend, and he knew me inside and out. In school, I was always the loner. I didn’t fit into any of the cliques. Back then, there was always someone prettier or sexier than me, so the “cool girls” didn’t want anything to do with me. I wasn’t athletic, so sports were out too, and even though I got decent grades, I didn’t have anything in common with the smart crowd either. I never stuck up for myself when other girls put me down and called me names, and the worst part was, I never had a boyfriend. I don’t know why boys didn’t like me or never asked me out. I would sit in my room at night and wonder what was wrong with me that no one was the slightest bit interested. For my high school prom, one of my brother’s friends was nice enough to be my date. He was in his twenties, and I was eighteen. It was fun, but not the same as going with someone you’re dating. It was like going to prom with my brother, and how pathetic is that? But that was my life, and it probably set the standard for what my life is today. When I went away to college, I met Bailey. She was my dorm mate, and we hit it off immediately. We’ve been friends ever since, and she knows everything there is to know about me.

  Over the years, there have been several men who I thought could be Mister Right, but I was wrong. I was the one looking for happily ever after, while they were just looking for fun. I was lonely, and Jaxson, my brother, was off doing the cowboy thing, and though he tried to be there for me by phone, it wasn’t the same as having a live body to sit with and talk to each day. Colt filled that need in my life initially.

  Things with Colt started off simple; we’d do the occasional movie or dinner and chat on the phone late into the evening, but before I knew it, weeks turned into months and months turned into a year. I enjoyed spending time with Colt at first, but then he subtly started to change, and my life started to turn into a nightmare. Movie nights became a thing of the past and were replaced with staying home and renting Netflix. Evenings out for dinner stopped altogether, and I cooked all the time.

  Now when I think of my future, I don’t ever see him in it, but the problem is, I don’t know how to walk away. I’m two years into this relationship, and every time I think I have the nerve to tell him it’s not working out, I can’t bring myself to do it. I’ve become so co-dependent on him being in my life that I get scared that no one will ever want me but him. The worst part yet is that I always wonder how bad he will hurt me if I ever get the nerve to leave.

  Over the last year, our fights have gotten worse to the point that every time he gets ready to walk out, I break down and cry. I beg for him to forgive me and promise to be more understanding. The problem with those statements is that I don’t know how to fix the issue, because I’m not the issue. He is. How can I be more understanding than I am and why can’t I just let him go? For years, I’ve let him walk all over me. I’m insecure about myself, wondering if I’ll ever find another boyfriend, so I hold on. I even make excuses for him when he hits me. I blame it on myself, that I brought it on and that I could have been better, taken the higher road and not argued or talked back. But nothing, no matter how much I try to justify it, can warrant the beatings I’ve taken from him or the mental mindfucks he dishes out. And yet I stay.

  Colt is toxic, and he uses me. I know it, but I still let it happen. I know he’s cheating on me, he’s even told me about her, but yet I continue to beg him to stay, and every time he tells me he’ll break it off with her and stay with me, I believe him, even though every time he lets me down again. I know this, I can see it happening, yet I continue to let it happened. I’m weak. I’ve given up everything for him. My friends and my brother tell me to walk away, but I just can’t. I believe deep down inside that he loves me as much as he did years ago, and if he’d just let it be the two of us again, he’d see it too. Why can’t he see that?

  At the same time part of me wonders if he ever loved me at all. That part thinks he didn’t, at least not in the way you should love someone. He sees me as his possession to serve his needs. I don’t even think he knows what love is, to be honest. I deal in the business of love. I’m a wedding planner, making everyone’s dreams come true. Why can’t I make my own come true? It’s time I take a good look at myself and decide on a path in life I want to travel and whether I’m willing to travel that path alone.

  Looking at myself in the mirror, I know I’m delusional and that things will never change, so I vow to myself that today will be the day I walk away. Happiness is within my reach if I am willing to take the bull by the horn and grab it, and so I do.

  I quietly move about the house and start boxing up the few items Colt left here. If I don’t do this now, I’ll back down again, and I can’t have that. For my sanity, I have to get him out of my life. I have to stay strong. For once, the light at the end of the tunnel isn’t a speeding freight train headed my way. The tension I have been holding in for such a long time releases slowly from me with every item I place into the box until there is no more angst in my gut, and with a smile on my face, I put this chapter of my life to bed.

  After an hour of quietly moving about my home, I’ve got everything of his packed in a box, and that box is now sitting on my front porch. It’s time to wake the beast and send him packing, and this time, I mustered the strength to stand my ground. I make my way to the bedroom and climb into bed on my hands and knees, then with all my strength, I push. I push so hard Colt goes flying onto the floor with a thud. “What the FUCK!” he yells at me. “What the fuck are you doing, Rylee?” He’s still not fully awake, which I hope will work to my advantage.

  “Colt, I’m done. I can’t do this anymore. We’re through. I’ve put everything you have here in a box. It’s on the porch. You need to go. I’m over it and us.”

  “Rylee, babe, what’s with you? I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what brought all this on. Is this about last night? Because if it is, I told you. It’s over with her. It’s just us now. I know I’ve said it before, but I mean it this time.”

  “Colt, there
isn’t ‘this time’ anymore. We’re through! I’ve deluded myself all these years thinking that if I tried to be everything you wanted me to be, you’d stay. I’ve done things to make you happy that I would never have imagined I’d do. I’ve become someone I don’t recognize anymore, and that’s because of you. You’ve turned me into this person I hate. I can’t do it any longer, so I want you out of here, and I want you out of here NOW!” I’m shaking at this point, but I know I need to stand strong. I can feel myself starting to back down, but the minute I hear his raised voice, I know I’ve made the right decision. Now I just need to make it through the next few minutes without getting the shit beat out of me.

  “You’re a fucking cunt, Rylee!” Colt’s yelling at me. “A piece of shit that no one will ever want!” He apparently knows my weakness well. “You’ll end up all alone without me. You’re nothing but a used-up piece of ass that no one will ever love.” His words used to be so hurtful. However, for the first time, I feel nothing. I don’t feel like I need to drop to my knees and cry because the pain is so damn bad, or that I have to beg him to stay with me. I’m not holding on for dear life knowing that everything is changing and that I’ll be alone if he walks out, and so I let him rant while I pray he will just walk out the door.

  When I hear the door slam, I know God was watching out for me today. Colt’s verbal decimations of me are so much easier to take than his fists. I knew it was always a possibility that this would end with me being bloody, but I had to pray that he would just walk out, thinking he could come back, which I’m sure is what he thought as he left.