Episode 45: Raw Words
An awful feeling sank into Sugar’s gut as she picked open an old memory that’d been scabbed over for so long.
“There was a lavish Christmas party at Albert’s mansion. They had this gorgeous grand piano that his wife, Karen, always played to get everyone in high spirits. But she passed away from breast cancer a few months prior. That night, Albert wanted to hear Winter Wonderland. Her favorite song. Lance volunteered me as a pawn to get in Albert’s good graces, but I didn’t feel right doing it. Helping Lance exploit Albert’s grief just so he could get a leg up at his job.” She stared off into the distance, lost in the memory.
“I told Albert I wouldn’t do the song any justice because Karen played it so beautifully. He understood. But Lance took it as an act of defiance. And it didn’t help that he’d drunk himself silly that night.” She trailed off momentarily, her eyes stinging with the threat of tears, but she held them back. “So, when we got home, he backhanded me so hard my head slammed against the wall, and I passed out. I was knocked out cold for nearly a day.
“When I woke up, he apologized and blamed it on the alcohol. Then, every time he did it, he’d always blame it on the alcohol.”
She shook her head, sniffling at the memory. “So, to answer your question from earlier… yes, he used to hurt me.”
Sugar glanced at Miles over her shoulder, her voice steady, certain. “And yes… it did feel good taking back something he stole from me.”
Miles took a good gulp from the vodka before he passed it back to her. “I enjoyed watchin’ you beat the shit out of him. It was sexy as all get out.”
A bright burst of laughter bubbled from her lips, and she shot him a bashful glance. “Shut up, Miles,” she said as she brought the bottle to her lips and took a sip.
“I love a woman who knows how to get rough,” he returned with a smirk. “Matter of fact, that’s how I met my ex-wife.”
Sugar blinked in surprise as she handed him the bottle back. “Your ex-wife roughed you up?”
“Well,” Miles began with a chuckle, “I was stationed in Kentucky, and a few of the boys in my squad were feelin’ mighty lonely. So they dragged me to this seedy-ass bar that was a local waterin’ hole. All I wanted was a pint or two and to be on my way, but this gorgeous redhead was at the bar turnin’ heads. She was tryin’ to enjoy her drink, but she kept gettin’ hit on. One bastard just couldn’t take a hint, and she threw a drink in his face before hightailin’ it outta there. He followed her, and I followed after him. Before he could try somethin’ stupid, she punched him square in the face and beat the hell outta him like he stole somethin’ right there in the parkin’ lot. I made the mistake of approachin’ her from behind, tryin’ to help, and she elbowed me in the face.”
Sugar clasped a hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh.
“She got me pretty good, too. Gave me a bloody nose. Felt bad once she realized I was only tryin’ to help. Took me back into the bar’s bathroom, cleaned me up, shoved a wad of bathroom tissue into one of my nostrils, and asked if I wanted to get a case of shitty beer at a gas station and hang out. She parked her car underneath a bridge, and we drunk every bottle. Then we…” He trailed off with a grin and raised his eyebrows suggestively.
“Wow, you two didn’t waste any time,” Sugar said with a smile, rolling her eyes.
“We were young and drunk,” he said. “But after that night, I knew I wanted her to be my wife. We got married three months later.”
“Lance was my first,” Sugar said quietly. “And our first time together was on our wedding night. We were nineteen and couldn’t afford anything luxurious, so we spent our honeymoon at a beautiful Victorian bed-and-breakfast just outside town. I was so nervous. Lance smuggled in a bottle of champagne into our suitcase, and I had my first taste of alcohol that night. The champagne helped a lot. He was so sweet and gentle with me… he was so different back then.”
She bit down on her bottom lip as memories of Lance making love to her for the first time fluttered into her mind. She reached for the vodka bottle, wanting to wash those memories away.
Before she got too sentimental.
Before she forgot the monster he had become.
Miles handed it to her without hesitation, and Sugar took a deeper gulp this time, letting the warm burn slither down her throat and course through her veins. Her head felt light now.
“Why did you two divorce?” she asked.
“My job,” he answered. “I was so close to retirement, but the war was in full swing, and I had a duty to fulfill. The tours started addin’ up. Eighteen months here, twenty-four months there. Alicia was raisin’ teenaged Melina by herself, and Melina just couldn’t handle me bein’ away.”
His voice grew more somber. “She got so depressed. I came back stateside with the promise of stayin’ for good, but they sent me back. She tried to commit suicide after that, but it wasn’t successful. Alicia had to commit her to a mental hospital, and she had to deal with that alone. That was the final nail in the coffin for our marriage. Her havin’ to watch our daughter’s mental health deteriorate because of me…”
Sugar passed him the bottle gently as a token of understanding.
“You did the best you could, Miles,” she whispered.
“If that were true, my daughter wouldn’t have committed suicide at nineteen,” he said, eyeing the bottle with discontent. His deep voice was heavy with a terrible blend of sorrow, guilt, and regret. “She’d be twenty-four right now. Hell, she could’ve been married. I could’ve had beautiful grandkids.”
She jumped slightly as he placed the bottle on the bar counter a little too hard. He ran his fingers through his pepper-and-salt hair, shaking his head. “I think I’ve had enough to drink.”
“Miles, I shouldn’t’ve asked. I am so sor—”
“Stop apologizin’, Sugar,” he said sharply, his voice suddenly rising as he slammed his fist on the counter. “Stop apologizin’ and blamin’ yourself for other people’s problems. Just like you blamed yourself every damn time your fucked-up ex put his hands on you. Just stop it!”
A pained look flickered across her face. “I think it’s time for me to go.”
She hopped down quickly, stumbled slightly, but caught herself and made for the entrance.
“Shit,” Miles cursed, hurrying from behind the bar. “Wait. Sugar, wait. Wait, dammit.”
He caught up and gently took hold of her forearm before she could reach the door.
“I got outta hand, honey. I shouldn’t’ve talked to you like that.”
Sugar wrenched her arm away and snapped, “You’re damn right you shouldn’t have!”
He closed in on her, cupping her face in his calloused, tattooed hands. He hunched to meet her gaze, his expression raw.
“I’m sorry. From the bottom of my heart. Truly, Sugar. Please don’t go. Thinkin’ about Melina and what could’ve been always fucks with my head. I told you before. I’ve got a lot of scars. Some of ’em are old, some are healin’, and some just won’t close. My daughter’s suicide… that’s a scar that keeps openin’ and closin’ on me. Bear with me,” he pleaded, his gray eyes hued with desperation. “I can’t fuck this up. I refuse to fuck this up. You’re too much of a good thing, and I’d be a foolish man if I let you walk out that door.”
His words were medicine to her heart. To her soul.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he chanted huskily, planting light kisses on her lips between each one as he backed her into the glass door. “Take my apology, honey. Please.”
An aura of raw truth poured from him as he pleaded for her forgiveness.
It overwhelmed her.
He overwhelmed her.
Dazed, Sugar nodded. “Yes. I forgive you, Miles.”
