I don’t deserve to keep her, I know, but still, it hurts like hell. I thought she could save me. Just that brief flash of hope; the peace I’ve found in her arms. It made me believe, just for a moment, that there was a light on the horizon; that this pain wouldn’t last forever. But I had it all wrong. Why should I get to feel that peace? Why should I be happy, after everything I’ve ruined?
“Please,” I tell her, broken. “Just go.”
20.
ALICIA
Dex sits there, shoulders hunched, his heart clearly breaking wide open in his chest at the dark memories that have dragged him down for so long.
All this time¸ he’s been holding it inside.
I watch him, my heart aching for his silent grief. But it’s more than loss, carved deep on his face. It’s guilt too. Self-loathing, a bitter regret. And that’s when I realize the reason for it all: quitting music, his self-imposed exile, pushing everyone away.
He thinks he’s the one to blame for Connor’s death. He thinks this is all his fault.
“Oh, Dex,” I murmur, my heart filling with sorrow for him. “It wasn’t your fault.”
He shakes his head. “You don’t understand.”
“You couldn’t have stopped him, even if you tried.” I take his hand again, shifting so I’m on my knees beside him. I tug on his hand, trying to make him look at me. “He was an addict, Dex. He didn’t want helping. No matter what you could have done, it wouldn’t have made a difference.”
“We could have quit the tour.” Dex turns now, his face harsh with self-loathing. “I could have told the label to fuck themselves. We could have put him straight in rehab—”
“And then what?” I interrupt. “He would have walked right out the door!”
“No!” Dex wrenches away, getting to his feet. He strides back up the beach towards the house, and I scramble after him to catch up. “You don’t get it. They said he had three times the normal level in his system. Maybe it was an accident, but maybe…”
He trails off, the horror too much to speak aloud.
“You tried to help him,” I argue. “But he lied to you, he hid his problem from you all. That doesn’t make it your fault.”
Dex shakes his head. His hands are clenched in two desperate fists at his sides, and I can see how this grief has gripped him, seized every part of his body until he’s shaking and tense with unexpressed pain. “I should have seen it!”
“Dex—”
“No!” he yells again, his voice hoarse in the wind. “Don’t you get it? I wanted the spotlight more. I wanted to keep playing, I was mad at him for putting everything at risk. That’s how selfish I was, that I cared more about the fucking tour than his life!”
“You know that’s not true.” I grab hold of both of his hands, forcing him to look at me, refusing to let go. My heart is breaking for him. He needs to hear this. He has to see the truth.
“Listen to me, Dex. If someone had told you what would happen, you wouldn’t have paused for a heartbeat, we both know that. You would have put him straight into treatment, and you wouldn’t have quit until he was clean. You would have taken care of him, because that’s what you do,” I swear, my voice shaking with fevered emotion. I meet his eyes, seeing the regret there, the endless pain. “You’re a good man, and you protect the people you love. I’ve only known you a couple of weeks, and even I know that. What happened to Connor was a tragedy, but his choices were his own. He took his own risks, and nobody could ever blame you for that. Do you hear me, Dex? This isn’t on you, it never was. Please.” My voice breaks, desperate to make him understand. “You have to see. You’re more than this, more than his selfish mistakes!”
Dex stares at me, breathing heavily. I can see the agony in his eyes, how much he wants to believe me—but how he’s wrapped in the chains of his past. It’s crazy, that I’ve known him so little time, but still, I can’t bear to see him hurting like this. Something about him has slipped under my skin, wrapping around my heart, and now it squeezes tight, so I feel his grief as if it were my own.
“You can’t let his choices rule your life,” I beg him. “You can’t feel guilty for every good thing that happens to you. You’re allowed to be happy. You’re allowed to play your music, and to perform again.”
He shakes his head, jaw clenched to keep his emotion at bay. “I swore, if he couldn’t play, then I shouldn’t either. That night was the end for me.”
“No!” I cry, furious that he’s clinging to this darkness, that he’s punishing himself for something beyond his control. “It was the end for him. He got to make that choice, he got to decide for himself. And he chose a fucked up way to go, but that doesn’t mean you have to pay for his mistakes forever. You have a gift!” I yell, trying to make him see sense. “You’re denying everything, a part of who you are. But even if you never played another note in your life, it won’t bring Connor back, and it won’t make everything OK. It’ll just be another fucking waste of your talent!”
“Alicia…” Dex grips my hands tightly. “Why are you doing this? Why are you still here?”
I stop. My heart pounds. I can’t think of anything to say, so I just tell him the truth.
“Because it’s you.”
Before I can stop myself, I go up on my tiptoes and throw my arms around his neck, pulling him down to me in a tear-soaked, anguished kiss. He doesn’t understand how special he is, he doesn’t see what I do, so I kiss him to show him: to give him everything he wanted from me. An escape.
“Please,” I tell her, broken. “Just go.”
20.
ALICIA
Dex sits there, shoulders hunched, his heart clearly breaking wide open in his chest at the dark memories that have dragged him down for so long.
All this time¸ he’s been holding it inside.
I watch him, my heart aching for his silent grief. But it’s more than loss, carved deep on his face. It’s guilt too. Self-loathing, a bitter regret. And that’s when I realize the reason for it all: quitting music, his self-imposed exile, pushing everyone away.
He thinks he’s the one to blame for Connor’s death. He thinks this is all his fault.
“Oh, Dex,” I murmur, my heart filling with sorrow for him. “It wasn’t your fault.”
He shakes his head. “You don’t understand.”
“You couldn’t have stopped him, even if you tried.” I take his hand again, shifting so I’m on my knees beside him. I tug on his hand, trying to make him look at me. “He was an addict, Dex. He didn’t want helping. No matter what you could have done, it wouldn’t have made a difference.”
“We could have quit the tour.” Dex turns now, his face harsh with self-loathing. “I could have told the label to fuck themselves. We could have put him straight in rehab—”
“And then what?” I interrupt. “He would have walked right out the door!”
“No!” Dex wrenches away, getting to his feet. He strides back up the beach towards the house, and I scramble after him to catch up. “You don’t get it. They said he had three times the normal level in his system. Maybe it was an accident, but maybe…”
He trails off, the horror too much to speak aloud.
“You tried to help him,” I argue. “But he lied to you, he hid his problem from you all. That doesn’t make it your fault.”
Dex shakes his head. His hands are clenched in two desperate fists at his sides, and I can see how this grief has gripped him, seized every part of his body until he’s shaking and tense with unexpressed pain. “I should have seen it!”
“Dex—”
“No!” he yells again, his voice hoarse in the wind. “Don’t you get it? I wanted the spotlight more. I wanted to keep playing, I was mad at him for putting everything at risk. That’s how selfish I was, that I cared more about the fucking tour than his life!”
“You know that’s not true.” I grab hold of both of his hands, forcing him to look at me, refusing to let go. My heart is breaking for him. He needs to hear this. He has to see the truth.
“Listen to me, Dex. If someone had told you what would happen, you wouldn’t have paused for a heartbeat, we both know that. You would have put him straight into treatment, and you wouldn’t have quit until he was clean. You would have taken care of him, because that’s what you do,” I swear, my voice shaking with fevered emotion. I meet his eyes, seeing the regret there, the endless pain. “You’re a good man, and you protect the people you love. I’ve only known you a couple of weeks, and even I know that. What happened to Connor was a tragedy, but his choices were his own. He took his own risks, and nobody could ever blame you for that. Do you hear me, Dex? This isn’t on you, it never was. Please.” My voice breaks, desperate to make him understand. “You have to see. You’re more than this, more than his selfish mistakes!”
Dex stares at me, breathing heavily. I can see the agony in his eyes, how much he wants to believe me—but how he’s wrapped in the chains of his past. It’s crazy, that I’ve known him so little time, but still, I can’t bear to see him hurting like this. Something about him has slipped under my skin, wrapping around my heart, and now it squeezes tight, so I feel his grief as if it were my own.
“You can’t let his choices rule your life,” I beg him. “You can’t feel guilty for every good thing that happens to you. You’re allowed to be happy. You’re allowed to play your music, and to perform again.”
He shakes his head, jaw clenched to keep his emotion at bay. “I swore, if he couldn’t play, then I shouldn’t either. That night was the end for me.”
“No!” I cry, furious that he’s clinging to this darkness, that he’s punishing himself for something beyond his control. “It was the end for him. He got to make that choice, he got to decide for himself. And he chose a fucked up way to go, but that doesn’t mean you have to pay for his mistakes forever. You have a gift!” I yell, trying to make him see sense. “You’re denying everything, a part of who you are. But even if you never played another note in your life, it won’t bring Connor back, and it won’t make everything OK. It’ll just be another fucking waste of your talent!”
“Alicia…” Dex grips my hands tightly. “Why are you doing this? Why are you still here?”
I stop. My heart pounds. I can’t think of anything to say, so I just tell him the truth.
“Because it’s you.”
Before I can stop myself, I go up on my tiptoes and throw my arms around his neck, pulling him down to me in a tear-soaked, anguished kiss. He doesn’t understand how special he is, he doesn’t see what I do, so I kiss him to show him: to give him everything he wanted from me. An escape.
