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A glimpse in the mirror showed me a different person, my hair wild and unkempt, my eyes dark; there was no light to be seen in them. It brought out the demon in me, causing me to lash out and break the trophies, the mirrors, and the knickknacks my mom had given me over the years; even the plant in the corner that once stood tall was now a pile of soil on the rug.
My rage took total control over me, with such force that I slammed the club into the table. The reverberation traveled back up my arm as the table held and I cried out in pain as the vibration ran through my arm and it went numb.
I glanced at Simba, who was shaking in obvious fear in the corner, and I passed out. When I came to, I went to my room and crawled into bed, covering my head. I ignored the ding of text messages, the ringing of the phone, and the eventual knock at the door.
Three days and hundreds of texts and calls passed as I lay in bed, paralyzed by the pain I'd caused Liv. The only memory that popped into my head was the mental picture of Olivia lying in the hospital bed with a massive gash running frommid-forehead through her eye, then continued to just over her mouth.
Olivia…
Devastation and destruction were the only two words that came to mind when I looked at myself in the mirror. The most important fact was clear: I would never model again. That realization hit home hard as tears ran down my face. My body hurt all over. I felt more pain than I’d ever felt in my lifetime. I hated everyone but was so alone and felt betrayed, destroyed, and ashamed at the same time. My heart ached as I spoke with my doctor, a head doctor, another first for me; I’d never had to talk to someone. Not that it was a bad thing, but Julia helped me realize a lot during the early mornings when I felt helpless and wanted to end things.
The emotional state I was in was utterly vain. I discovered over time, however, that the battle to heal both emotionally and physically was almost enough to kill me. Often, I wished the shark had eaten me. I was trying to accept this was my fate; the fact that I’d never model again a career I had loved.
The wounded areas looked mortifying, and I began to hate mirrors. My brain was having a tough time analyzing the extent of the shark’s damage.
The fact that I’d still not heard from or seen Parker was more horrific than the injuries. He wasn’t answering his phone or texts, and it became my obsession to worry about that; it took my mind off my injuries.
It was just before dawn as I lay there wondering what was next.
“Are you okay?”
I looked at Julie, my nurse, as the tears rolled down my swollen face. “It’s not the money. I have enough to live on for the rest of my life. I miss Parker, and I hurt all over all the time; my head won’t shut the fuck up, nor will my body stop screaming”. I knew I was being nasty and throwing a tantrum, but what the hell? I felt I’d earned the right somehow. I understood now that I could live without almost anything, except Parker.
The nurse gave me more tissues as my eyes welled up with tears. She patted my hand and told me it would be okay. When she left, she paged the doctor and requested a mental health consultation for medication. She had told him I cried for three solid days and might need the help of medication on top of my specialist to get through this.
Martha
Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, and men below, and the saints above, for love is heaven, and heaven is love. Sir Walter Scott
I banged on Parker's door and yelled for him to let me in, frustration taking over as my tears escaped. I shook my head, and with a shaky hand, slid the note under the door. I walked next door to Olivia’s and cleaned up a bit. It wasn’t filthy, so there wasn’t much I could do but wait on the contractors as Olivia had asked of me. I was impressed by her organization, all the contracts on the table, paid in full. The furniture was on hold and would be delivered and set up upon completion of remodeling.
Worried about Parker, I glanced out the window, looking over at his place. The grass was almost knee-high, the shutters closed tight on all the windows, and there was no sign of life. A chill ran up my spine as I realized my son was spiraling out of control with guilt.
A week went by with contractors coming and going. Every day, I would knock on Parkers door and leave a note when he didn’t answer, which was every time. Olivia was making good progress. She was out of bed and taking short walks with a therapist. Her wounds were healing, but the one on her face had become a keloid scar that was wide and raised. By the time Olivia was released from the hospital, her home had been transformed into all I hoped she’d ever dreamt about.
Olivia…
With a severe limp, I walked up to my house, trying not to let the house next door distract me or ruin the fact I was finally home. My eyes flew open in disbelief at all the work that had been done. My mom’s home had transformed to mine, while I was gone. It was a bittersweet moment walking in and seeing all my visions put out in front of me to live in. I hugged Martha as I cried and thanked her, exhausted.
She made me go to bed and brought me some hot tea. There was a look Martha had begun to recognize on my face, and she shook her head. “No, love. I’ve not been able to reach him. He’s still not answering any calls or the door.” She left the room with her head hanging low.
Over the next month, I concentrated on my physical therapy while Martha stayed with me day and night. She was reluctant to leave me by myself just yet after such a horrific accident. I knew she continued to knock on Parker’s front door and slip notes under it, but as far as we knew, he’d not read them, nor had he responded to any of them.
The PGA had even reached out to Martha and Brett; they had tried contacting Parker with an offer of help, but he hadn’t responded.
During my first month at home, neighbors and friends stopped by long enough to give their condolences and leave a dish of some sort, mostly casseroles. They also left notes and meals on Parker’s doorstep.
Parker
The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.
Eleanor Roosevelt
I looked out the window, hoping to glimpse her just once like I’d done every day for over a week. I knew she had arrived home six days ago. Pacing the floor and waiting for Uber Eats to bring my food, I finally saw Olivia taking an unstable walk down the sidewalk in front of the house. She looked right in my direction as I snapped the shade shut firmly. Tears streamed down my face as I saw her once-beautiful face that I had destroyed. It was as if her eyes bore into mine, pleading.
A moment later, the doorbell rang, and the Uber driver said, “Delivery’s here.”
“I fucking said leave it at the door, you motherfucker!” I spat, and the delivery guy dropped the food with a thud and ran back to his car, peeling out. Peeking out the peephole of the front door to ensure no one was around, I grabbed the food and quickly closed the door. I ate out of the pizza box, picked up the bottle that was almost full of vodka, and downed a big swig as some dribbled down my bearded chin.
