Chapter 19
There was something beautifully ironic about when he got a drunk text from her. Maybe it was what she said, or maybe it was the fact that she hadn't forgotten about him yet. He didn' t know what it was but he also didn't care. "i'm sorry i'm such a fuck up." To anyone, it's a normal text but to Jonesy Adam Harrison, it was her drunk texting. She didn't misspell words, even in her intoxicated state. He knew she was drunk because of the way she cursed. She doesn't usually curse when she talks or even texts, and he's seen her drunk enough times to know that the inner sailor in her only comes out when she's drunk.
He ran his hand through his mess of short brown curls on the top of his head. "Dammit." He mumbled to himself. What was he to do now? A knock on his office door brought him out of his conflicting thoughts. He got out of his chair and walked to the door. When he opened it he saw her right in front of him. "I'm so sorry" was all she said before collapsing into his arms. It was only then did he realize all the blood. There was so much blood. Too much. Time moved in slow motion and suddenly he heard screaming, his screaming.
"Help! Somebody help! Call 911!" He shook her, he grabbed her shoulders and shook, he held her nose and blew into her mouth , he tried stopping the bleeding. He gripped her bleeding wrists so hard he thought he would break them. He tried so hard. So fucking hard but it didn't work. She'd been dead the moment he opened the door. How did no one see her before she got to his office?! It's all the way in the back of the club for Christs sake! Why did no one help her?!
By the time the ambulance arrived she was long gone. He held her in his arms the entire time. His eyes were endless waterfalls by this point, his throat was raw from screaming and sobbing. His chest felt like a balloon after it'd lost all it's air. He was deflated, limp, lifeless. Without her, he was dead.
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It'd been eight months and three and a half weeks and he could actually get out bed now. This in itself was an accomplishment. The autopsy had shown that she'd ingested over thirty different pills in addition to slitting her wrists which ultimately resulted in her death. At least she made it to him. That was what he had to keep telling himself.
Jonesy walked through the doors of Ace of Spades for the first time in just under a year. He'd left control and management of the club to his right hand, Richard Tateman. Richard had been with Jonesy every night for the last six months. The first two months Jonesy didn't sleep and if he did, it was only for an hour or so until he was woken up by terrifying nightmares. Since then Richard slept either in the spare room or the couch in Jonesy's apartment. Just knowing that someone was there was enough for Jonesy. It was on a routine now, Richard would come over around two or three in the morning and sometimes later if the club was doing really well. No words would be said, just a hug most times. On a good night, Jonesy would already be asleep, but, like most nights, he was just waking up from a nightmare. He was just waking up from seeing her lying there, lifeless, limp, deflated. He was waking up from her...dead.
But tonight...tonight wouldn't need Richard to come over. Tonight he was ready to get back on with his life. This wasn't the first time he'd walked through Ace of Spades...no. He'd made resolutions to stop his pity party well past the fourth month. He just never made it past the foyer.
Tonight was different though, he was going to make it to his office. He was going to face his fears. He would need some courage from his powdery white friend. He was introduced to his friend during the second month. It lessened the pain but now he felt like he needed it to just get out of bed.
Halfway through the unopened club, he felt good. He'd made it this far. This was progress. It was going to be different. He was going to face his fears and finally move past his grief. Reaching the closed door to his office, his entire resolve crumbled without a fight. He lost it.
It was like being there all over again. The memory of that day hit him harder than he'd expected. He couldn't take it. "I have to get out of here" he mumbled. Suddenly he couldn't catch his breath and his knees couldn't support him anymore. He collapsed into a mess on the floor in the doorway of his office. He couldn't even bear to open the door.
"no...no, please. Lena, please! no!" He grabbed his head to stop the memories but it was in vain because he was holding her again. He was covered in her blood again. She was dead...again. "no please! Lena not again! please please...no" He couldn't contain himself any longer. Richard came closer to the sound of the broken man and swept him up like a baby. "she's gone...i couldn't save her" Richard tried shushing him but it didn't work, instead it fueled anger. "How did no one see her?! Why did you let this happen?! This is your fault!! I HATE YOU! Get off of me! Richard...she's gone...she's gone and i-i...richard.." His tears consumed his words and his thoughts. He blacked out. He couldn't breath, talk, walk...all he could do was cry.
The next thing he remembers is Richard holding him on his bed as he bitterly wept.
Morning broke with Richard and Jonesy waking at the same time. They didn't speak, there was no need. The silence needed to be heard right then. Jonesy didn't have it in him to think about how the position would look to outside eyes. Richard was being a good friend and that's what he needed.
"I told Trent to hold down the fort at the club last night." Richard spoke so softly that Jonesy almost didn't hear him.
"I'm sorry" was the first thing that came out of Jonesy's mouth before he suddenly felt the overwhelming need to cry himself out. He hadn't really shed any tears in over six months, it was mostly just drunken rampages and drug influenced terrible decisions. But this time he knew that he needed to cry. He needed to get it out and so he did. In the arms of one of his closest and most trusted companions, he wept and wept. He wept so hard that he stopped making noise. He had nothing left but tears.
Richard knew that the only thing to do was hold him. He knew there was nothing to say because he'd been saying the same things for over six months. This breakdown had to be all Jonesy. He had to have nothing to do with it. And that's exactly how he would help. Just being there made it easier for Jonesy and he knew that. You spend a little over four months basically living with someone and you tend to pick up on a thing or two.
Like how Jonesy's body clock wakes up at precisely 5:48 am every morning for coffee and how he, after making coffee, would sit on the terrace of his apartment and watch the sunrise and then go back to sleep only to awaken again around ten or eleven. It was strange but he learned not to interfere. It was something Jonesy was insecure about, one of the many things. Richard also knew that Jonesy thinks people forget about him. He knows that Jonesy has this idea in his head that he doesn't leave a mark on people's lives but if he only knew how wrong he was.
Richard hated watching Jonesy deteriorate over these last few months. It killed him to see one of his closest friends die inside. But this was different, this breakdown might be what Jonesy needs to finally move on.
And it was. Three weeks later and Jonesy is back in action just like he never left at the club. One night in particular was the real turning page. The night that Richard brought back Caden, Ayana and C.T. was monumental. He met people he could express himself in the worst and best ways around and just in time too. Richard made the faithful decision to join the U.S Marine Corps. He was sad to see his friend leave but happy that he was doing something with his life. And you know what they say; when one door closes, a window opens. Richard was that door and Caden, Ayana and C.T are these amazing windows that constantly bring fresh air into his life, every moment.
"I swear to almighty God in the heavens above Jonesy if you don't put some damn clothes on I will castrate you." C.T screeched at him.
"Don't act like you wouldn't fuck the soul out of me deary." He replied effortlessly while retreating to his suitcase to pull out some underwear. His life was back to being that helium filled, vibrant, lively balloon again. He was alive.
