Without the Love
Empty Happiness
-Kenz-
I was been born in July of 1992 in Barcelona, Spain. The Reachearas’ adopted me in March of ’95, a closed adoption that took nearly five months to complete. In early August I took a fifteen hour flight with my obnoxiously chipper social worker to sunny Los Angeles, California. By September I was in the hospital with an extremely bad bout of pneumonia that left me incapable and delirious. My liver was in serious trouble of shutting down, my lungs were functioning but not even close to the hundred percent efficiency that was needed to sustain life. My heart….my heart was in serious danger. The left ventricle was infected and my bicuspid valve only worked about forty five percent of the time, the sickness that swamped my lungs and threatened to drown me was now killing my heart, a little at a time. I struggled for each breath and worked my hardest to get better, wanting nothing more than to go home to my new parents and siblings. Looking back on it now I shouldn’t have survived, I should have closed my eyes one of those early fall nights and fell into the suppressing darkness of whatever is after this life. But I didn’t. My health miraculously improved and by Christmas I was home, still weak with a lazy heart, a heart that would forever cause me problems.
Over the next twelve years I came to spend almost three hundred days in the hospital and never once went to school. My only friend was Demi, mainly because she’d saved me from getting beat up on the playground in the town square when I was five. It was through Demi that I’d met Alex and his friends. It was Demi that held my hand while I waited, anxious and uncomfortable, nearing my fifteenth birthday, to find out if I could make it or not on the transplant list. The diagnosis had been given that I’d need a new heart to make it to see sixteen, but with my always uncontrollable health and low body mass index I was in such a bad place. But I made the cut. In January, once I was hospitalized indefinitely waiting for death, a young man died in a motorcycle accident and his heart was left intact. I don’t believe in God, I don’t believe in miracles, but that day the world tilted for me on its axis and I allowed myself to believe a little. Within three hours of the boy’s death I was in surgery. And now, seventeen years later, I’d like to consider myself fairly healthy.
That doesn’t mean I didn’t pass out when I saw Alex in the living room. Cause trust me, I did. I woke up on the couch with Demi hovering over me and her fingers sifting through my hair, Dylan over her shoulder frowning, and Alex was sitting at the kitchen island on the phone with the airport. I craned my head to look around her at the black haired man hunched over the white granite counter top, his back rigid and his voice low and too fast for me to understand. I was dizzy from my fainting spell and my stomach hurt. For the millionth time in the past four years I just wanted to crawl into Alex’s arms and fall asleep. When I’d wake up he’d kiss my nose and tell me I slept like a wilting flower and everything would be okay. Yeah, it was nice to dream.
“What is he doing here?” I whispered dryly, my voice echoing just enough for him to hear.
“He was worried.” Demi responded softly. From the tone of her voice I could tell she thought that excuse was complete and utter bullshit. But you’d never know.
“Alexander?” I forced myself to sit up slowly, my eyes fully taking him in.
He turned to face me with a less that convincing smile on his face. His deep, chocolate brown eyes were deeply troubled. There were bags under those deep orbs, his face was unshaven, and his hair was a mess. I bit my lip. “Dem…can we have a minute?” I whispered finally.
Dylan leaned down and scooped up his girlfriend when she hesitated. He gave me a look that clearly said ‘yell if you need me’ and carried her to their bedroom. Alex walked over and sat down beside me, leaving a foot or so of room of the couch. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked down at me as if he wasn’t sure what to say. That’s fine. I had enough to for the both of us.
“You made the choice to not worry about me any longer.” I said crisply, standing up on shaking legs. “You made the choice to not care any longer. You have no right to fly across the counter just to check up on me Alexander. You were the one who chose this.”
His face turned red. He stood up and stalked away from me, glaring out of the window. “You don’t know what you’re talking about Mackenzie.”
“I don’t?!” Fury rose up from the pit of my stomach as much as it ever had with him patronizing me. “I KNOW THAT YOU GAVE UP ON US! I KNOW THAT YOU CHEATED ON ME! I KNOW THAT I WAITED AT HOME FOR YOU TOUR AFTER TOUR WHILE YOU WERE OUT PARTYING AND SCREWING OTHER CHICKS! PLEASE TELL ME WHAT I DON’T KNOW ALEXANDER!”
In retrospect, I knew better than to scream at him like that. He didn’t need an anxiety attack right now, he didn’t need that at all. I’d caused more than enough of them. But he infuriated me so badly that I’d had no other choice. I needed to defend myself somehow. So when he turned, stormed over to me, grabbed me by the shoulder and pinned me to the wall, I wasn’t entirely sure how to react. Alex was many things, but he’d never gotten physically violent with me before.
I stared up at him, eyes wide, trembling. His face lowered until his lips brushed my ear. He hissed into it. He was angry. “I never cheated on you. I never ONCE looked at another girl the way I looked at you. I spent every night we were apart wishing your body was next to mine, just so I could lay my head on your chest and hear your heart singing to me.” His grip tightened on my shoulder, his fingers dug into it. “That day, when you came to see us on tour? I realized I’d never be what you wanted, no matter how hard I tried. What was the point of forcing ourselves to continue to screw around when it was never going to work?” Those words…those cruel, cruel words.
I looked up at him, shattered.
“There was no point in making you stay with me when we know that you would never have been happy.” He let me go, backed away.
“I…I was happy.”
I was been born in July of 1992 in Barcelona, Spain. The Reachearas’ adopted me in March of ’95, a closed adoption that took nearly five months to complete. In early August I took a fifteen hour flight with my obnoxiously chipper social worker to sunny Los Angeles, California. By September I was in the hospital with an extremely bad bout of pneumonia that left me incapable and delirious. My liver was in serious trouble of shutting down, my lungs were functioning but not even close to the hundred percent efficiency that was needed to sustain life. My heart….my heart was in serious danger. The left ventricle was infected and my bicuspid valve only worked about forty five percent of the time, the sickness that swamped my lungs and threatened to drown me was now killing my heart, a little at a time. I struggled for each breath and worked my hardest to get better, wanting nothing more than to go home to my new parents and siblings. Looking back on it now I shouldn’t have survived, I should have closed my eyes one of those early fall nights and fell into the suppressing darkness of whatever is after this life. But I didn’t. My health miraculously improved and by Christmas I was home, still weak with a lazy heart, a heart that would forever cause me problems.
Over the next twelve years I came to spend almost three hundred days in the hospital and never once went to school. My only friend was Demi, mainly because she’d saved me from getting beat up on the playground in the town square when I was five. It was through Demi that I’d met Alex and his friends. It was Demi that held my hand while I waited, anxious and uncomfortable, nearing my fifteenth birthday, to find out if I could make it or not on the transplant list. The diagnosis had been given that I’d need a new heart to make it to see sixteen, but with my always uncontrollable health and low body mass index I was in such a bad place. But I made the cut. In January, once I was hospitalized indefinitely waiting for death, a young man died in a motorcycle accident and his heart was left intact. I don’t believe in God, I don’t believe in miracles, but that day the world tilted for me on its axis and I allowed myself to believe a little. Within three hours of the boy’s death I was in surgery. And now, seventeen years later, I’d like to consider myself fairly healthy.
That doesn’t mean I didn’t pass out when I saw Alex in the living room. Cause trust me, I did. I woke up on the couch with Demi hovering over me and her fingers sifting through my hair, Dylan over her shoulder frowning, and Alex was sitting at the kitchen island on the phone with the airport. I craned my head to look around her at the black haired man hunched over the white granite counter top, his back rigid and his voice low and too fast for me to understand. I was dizzy from my fainting spell and my stomach hurt. For the millionth time in the past four years I just wanted to crawl into Alex’s arms and fall asleep. When I’d wake up he’d kiss my nose and tell me I slept like a wilting flower and everything would be okay. Yeah, it was nice to dream.
“What is he doing here?” I whispered dryly, my voice echoing just enough for him to hear.
“He was worried.” Demi responded softly. From the tone of her voice I could tell she thought that excuse was complete and utter bullshit. But you’d never know.
“Alexander?” I forced myself to sit up slowly, my eyes fully taking him in.
He turned to face me with a less that convincing smile on his face. His deep, chocolate brown eyes were deeply troubled. There were bags under those deep orbs, his face was unshaven, and his hair was a mess. I bit my lip. “Dem…can we have a minute?” I whispered finally.
Dylan leaned down and scooped up his girlfriend when she hesitated. He gave me a look that clearly said ‘yell if you need me’ and carried her to their bedroom. Alex walked over and sat down beside me, leaving a foot or so of room of the couch. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked down at me as if he wasn’t sure what to say. That’s fine. I had enough to for the both of us.
“You made the choice to not worry about me any longer.” I said crisply, standing up on shaking legs. “You made the choice to not care any longer. You have no right to fly across the counter just to check up on me Alexander. You were the one who chose this.”
His face turned red. He stood up and stalked away from me, glaring out of the window. “You don’t know what you’re talking about Mackenzie.”
“I don’t?!” Fury rose up from the pit of my stomach as much as it ever had with him patronizing me. “I KNOW THAT YOU GAVE UP ON US! I KNOW THAT YOU CHEATED ON ME! I KNOW THAT I WAITED AT HOME FOR YOU TOUR AFTER TOUR WHILE YOU WERE OUT PARTYING AND SCREWING OTHER CHICKS! PLEASE TELL ME WHAT I DON’T KNOW ALEXANDER!”
In retrospect, I knew better than to scream at him like that. He didn’t need an anxiety attack right now, he didn’t need that at all. I’d caused more than enough of them. But he infuriated me so badly that I’d had no other choice. I needed to defend myself somehow. So when he turned, stormed over to me, grabbed me by the shoulder and pinned me to the wall, I wasn’t entirely sure how to react. Alex was many things, but he’d never gotten physically violent with me before.
I stared up at him, eyes wide, trembling. His face lowered until his lips brushed my ear. He hissed into it. He was angry. “I never cheated on you. I never ONCE looked at another girl the way I looked at you. I spent every night we were apart wishing your body was next to mine, just so I could lay my head on your chest and hear your heart singing to me.” His grip tightened on my shoulder, his fingers dug into it. “That day, when you came to see us on tour? I realized I’d never be what you wanted, no matter how hard I tried. What was the point of forcing ourselves to continue to screw around when it was never going to work?” Those words…those cruel, cruel words.
I looked up at him, shattered.
“There was no point in making you stay with me when we know that you would never have been happy.” He let me go, backed away.
“I…I was happy.”
Notes
Hey guys! Can yall check out my newest story Promises That You Made Please and thank you-xoxoDR
@RosesNWriters
Aw, yay, you're back! Thanks for commenting on here, or I probably wouldn't have realized.
I'll check out the revamp as soon as I can. :)
10/25/18