Page 101 of Diesel's Perseverance
“Are you doing okay?” he asked.
“It comes and goes. I’m doing well, then I remember Freddy’s gone, and it’s like a punch in the gut,” she said.
He held her closer.
“How are you doing?”
“It hurts, but I know we’ll meet again someday.”
“I couldn’t have handled this without you,” she said softly.
“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, but it’s good we’re here for each other.”
“I still can’t believe he’s really dead,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“I noticed your friends had shots lined up on the bar. I think they were for you.”
“It’s our custom when one of us loses a family member that we drink to the memory of the deceased and rally around the brother who suffered the loss. Booze, reminiscences, and some laughs are how the club supports a member who’s suffered a loss. It’s like we mourn the loss together as members and celebrate the life the deceased once had.”
“That’s so cool and amazing. Talk about having the support of your friends and family. I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay with me. Go on down and be with your club.”
He pulled back a little, his eyes boring into hers. “Are you sure? I can stay with you—”
“I’m positive. I’m a loner, so I need some quiet time to digest all that’s happened. Go down and drink a shot for me.”
“You’re amazing. You know that?”
A pinkish hue raced through her. “Go on, now.” Her insides melted when he kissed her sweetly on the lips.
“I won’t be more than a couple of hours.”
“I’ll probably be conked out by the time you return. I’m beyond tired.”
She walked with him to the door. He kissed her lightly once again and stepped into the corridor. She watched after him until he disappeared, then closed the door and locked it.
After changing into her comfy pajamas, Myla grabbed a can of Diet Coke, turned off all the lights, and scraped a chair to the open window. Quietness descended all around her. A steady ocean breeze blew in through the window, caressing her and rattling the dry fronds on the palm trees.
Myla lifted her soda can and tipped it toward a bright twinkling star. “Here’s to you, Freddy. I’m sorry your life ended this way. I’m sorry we both quit loving one another. I hope you’re at peace now. I’ll remember our good times, and… I’ll miss you.” She took a sip from the can, then put it down.
She placed her elbows on the windowsill, propped her chin in her hands, and stared into the encroaching darkness.
Chapter Eighteen
Thin ribbons ofwhite light filtered in through the Venetian blinds, casting a dim glow to the darkened room. The doorknob jingling woke Myla up. She glanced at the couch and noticed Diesel wasn’t there. Switching on the small nightstand lamp, she rolled out of bed and padded to the front door as someone messed with the lock.
“Who’s there?” Myla asked, her heart pounding.
“I can’t open the fuckin’ door. My key’s not working,” Diesel said, his words slurring.
“I’ll open it,” she said.
“Hey,” he said with a sheepish, lopsided grin.
“Hey.” She stepped to the side.
Diesel stumbled into the room and reached out to touch the wall, steadying himself.
