Page 114 of Fragile Lives

We have a lot of things to discuss, but right now I just want to be in this moment. Where I can truly enjoy being here, with a beating heart and the woman, made for me, in my arms.

Who needs heaven when it’s better on earth?

Epilogue

ARCHIE

Two months later

All I want is to go home to Leila and bury my face between her legs, but Kenneth is having some sort of midlife crisis, so I’ll be a good friend and get him drunk in a bar.

We didn’t take a car because we didn’t plan on coming home sober. Yeah, I can drink without getting shitfaced. Well, I’m going to get shitfaced, but it’s for a good cause.

For half of my life, I thought of myself as a highly functioning alcoholic. Maybe I still am, but when all the guilt was finally taken away, I was left with this intense desire to live I wasn’t familiar with. Then I got life with the very person who is theliteral center of my universe, and it turned out that life isn’t so bad, and I don’t need alcohol to get me through every day.

To be absolutely honest, I still feel guilt, just not to that extent anymore. And maybe it’s a different sort of guilt—a survivor’s guilt. I came back but they didn’t. I just know that it might not be because of me anymore. My life is lighter, my head is brighter.

Do I havethosethoughts now? I do. Not much anymore, but I do. I don’t think I want to act on them, but it’s hard to change your way of thinking after years of living in the same circle of hell. But now I have my Leila and a mean therapist—excuse me, a person. That’s what they call themselves at Freya’s PTSD center.

After years of self-loathing and drinking myself to death, I finally decided to climb out of my hole. I just need to get my body on board with that. Years of abusing it didn’t do me any good, and besides therapy, I also went on some sort of super healthy diet, and Leila’s been watching me like a hawk the whole time.

Knowing that there probably won’t be many options taxi-wise, I asked my woman to pick us up later that night.

It’s closing on nine, and we’re going with the plan of getting hammered.

“I dunno, man,” Kenneth says, leaning his chin on his fist. “Just something, I dunno, is missing.”

His speech is slurred. We’ve drunk the same amount of alcohol, but over the years, I’ve built up a tolerance—my brain is foggy now, but I can think.

“You need a change.” I snap my fingers.

“A change?” He raises a brow. “What type of change?”

“I’ve got an idea.” I try to smile as innocently as I can. He’ll definitely kill me later, but he’ll thank me at some point.

To my utter surprise, we manage to grab a cab, and ten minutes later, we arrive at TJ’s place. He’s Kayla’s ex-boss and was the first one to discover her talent. We chat from time to time, and I’m thinking of buying his place since he wants to retire in Florida. I called him from the bar and asked if I could use his parlor for something for my friend. TJ lives in the same building as his shop, so he said he’d open it for me when we get there.

As we stumble out of the car, TJ is already unlocking the shop.

“Where are we?” Kenneth looks around suspiciously.

“We’re helping you to take the first step into your new future,” I smack his shoulder, “my friend. Let’s go.”

He looks at the parlor’s sign and narrows his eyes. “I don’t know about this.”

“Oh, you’ll love it. C’mon.” I push him inside where TJ is pulling a bottle out from under the receptionist’s table.

“I guess you’ll need this if you’re about to do what you told me.”

“What is that?” Kenneth nervously looks between me and TJ.

“A piercing.” I smile evilly.

“No-o-o.” He begins shaking his raised hands. “I can’t walk around Little Hope with a ring in my ear.”

“Don’t worry,” I smile, “the ring won’t be in your ear.”

“Where will it be?” Once again, he looks between us for answers, and on cue TJ and I both look down at his crotch. “What? No!” He covers it with his hands, his voice higher.