Page 78 of Bronx

“What is that tube coming out of his head for?” I manage to eek out the question I’ve had since I entered the room earlier.

“The tubing is relieving the pressure from the bleed in his brain.”

I don’t even bother wiping away the tears from my face. I don’t deserve to.

“I know. I just gave you a lot of information to digest. I can pull the social worker in to talk to you if you’d like. If you’re the only one in charge of his care, it might help. She could give you some needed resources.”

“I think I can manage. I’m just processing.”

“Okay, I’ll probably come by and check on him one more time before my shift ends, then I’ll meet with the stroke team tomorrow. Leave your contact information at the nurse’s desk. They’ll call you with any updates.”

“Thank you, Dr. Captain.”

“Have a good night.”

I sit silently in the chair next to Ray’s bed and watch him sleep for fifteen quiet minutes. The shock of his condition starts to wear off as I think about the times I’ve spent tending to my own wounds caused by his hands.

While I accept a certain amount of responsibility for him being in this bed, I can’t forget the last twenty-four hours. In fact, I can’t forget the last year of living with him.

It’s been hell.

And so I say what I’ve come here to say, whether Ray can hear me. I just need to say it and be done.

I can do this.

“You can be a really nasty son of a bitch when you want to be, Ray. I know you must have said something to set Bronx off, but for the record, I didn’t send him over there to hurt you. That was never my intention.

“Even you have to admit that I tried my best to make this work, even when I found out you cheated on me with your coworker and even after you punched me in the mouth (twice), the stomach, and now the eye.

“I’m sorry that it’s come to this and not because you deserve better, because you sure as shit don’t, but because once upon a time we did really care about each other.

“So if you can hear me, Ray, this is goodbye. You need to move on because I finally am.”

Ray doesn’t stir at all and perhaps my words have fallen on deaf ears, but at least I said them. I’d been swallowing those thoughts for the longest time, and I’m glad to have finally let them out.

I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the glass window of the room and then I look at Ray. I’m a complete mess and it’s not my fault, it’s the asshole’s fault lying here sound asleep.

It’s decided.

I’m not a doormat anymore.

I’m never going to let myself be a victim again.

This is over.

But it doesn’t escape my notice that when I stop and look back one last time at the man responsible for so much of my pain, his head is turned in my direction and his eyes are wide open.

He heard every damn thing.

26

Bronx

My plan was to dive deep into some random pussy tonight and forget all about Miss Karma fucking Moore, but you know what they say about the best laid plans, right? Nothing worked out the way it was supposed to.

I went to my usual haunts, but one place was in the middle of cleaning up a grease fire and closed early. Another place was having college night, and I was in no mood for dealing with pissy drunk college girls. Not my style. And the last place was closed to the public because they were booked for a private party. Elitist bastards.

What the hell?