“There isn’t a goddamn thing on this earth I wouldn’t do for her. I’ll take good care of her. I’ll give her whatever she wants and I’ll make sure she— “
“Shut up,” he interrupted, handing me back the box. “You don’t have to plead your case to me, Black.”
He ran his hand over his head.
“At least you’ll make an honest woman out of her,” he grunted, reminding me how much it burned his ass that Lacey moved in with me as soon as I got released from prison.
He sighed, reached out and grabbed my shoulder.
“Real happy for you, Black. It took me a while to get over that it’s Lacey that makes you happy,” he admitted. “You’ll understand one day, when you have kids of your own. They get under you man, they make your heart so big and so full you don’t know how you ever lived without them.” He swallowed, took a second and then continued.
“You got my blessing.”
“I was going to do it with or without it,” I joked.
“I hope you have ten daughters,” he spat.
“I hope so too,” I said, grinning as I pocketed the ring and stared back at him.
“See you on the other side, brother,” he rasped, leaning back against his bike. “Go on, go get your girl.”
I nodded as I straddled my bike and gripped the handlebars.
Time to draw that final card.
Time to start writing the next chapter.
Girl, I’m coming for you.
Bonus Epilogue
I graduated college one year to the date with a degree in social work. When I first started college I was like every other ordinary freshman, having no idea what I wanted to do and no major. College was just one big party and the thing you did to make your parents proud.
Then life happened.
Blackie happened.
Someone who had been in my life for so many years became my life. Our perfectly imperfect love started with two people chasing away the demons that dragged the other down.
For me it was my mind.
For him it was his addictions and his grief.
I was just a girl with a crush who fell in love with the bad boy and waited for him to open his eyes and see me standing before him.
He was just a man who had given up on himself, a man who resolved never to smile and enjoy life, a man who didn’t think he was worthy.
He opened his eyes and looked right through me, down to the depths of my soul. I don’t know who realized first, if it was him or me, that discovered we each held the other half of one another’s soul.
We’re not perfect.
Far from it.
And our struggles didn’t just disappear because we fell in love. I’ll always be bi-polar and he’ll always be a recovering addict. Our battles are different yet the same both result in extreme highs and desperate lows but we’re stronger than the things that try to bring us down.
Together, my maker and his addictions don’t stand a chance.
I see him smile and I can face the world, my mind is just another hurdle I can conquer and the best part of that is knowing I do the same for him. That smile is all the inspiration I need to be a survivor of mental illness and mine is all he needs to be a survivor of substance abuse.
I glanced around the room of people and smiled at them, hoping they found the smile in the world that saved them.
“Who wants to begin today?” I asked the group.
“I’d like to,” said a familiar voice, startling me and forcing me to turn my head to the door and the man standing there smiling at me.
My savior.
My Leather.
I am a social worker and I work for the Woman’s Health Center as well as Addiction Angel, a local Staten Island organization that helps addicts get into a rehabilitation program suited for them. I also volunteer one night a week at the Y.M.C.A. and run the Narcotics Anonymous group.
Blackie has attended my meetings and has spoken about his struggles as an addict, inspiring the people I work with on a daily basis.
However, I wasn’t expecting him tonight. In fact, when I left the house he kissed me goodbye and told me he was going to the clubhouse.
He walked toward the circle of people, pulled out an empty chair but didn’t sit down as he kept his eyes pinned to me.
“My name is Dominic Petra, or Blackie to some,” he said, winking at me. “And I’m a recovering addict.” He glanced around the room, looking at all the faces and recognizing the torment reflected in their eyes. “I have been sober and clean for thirty-eight months.”
A round of applause erupted from the circle as he turned his attention back to me.
“Thank you,” he said, as he pointed to me. “But I wouldn’t have been able to kick my habits and stay clean if it wasn’t for this woman right here.”
I smiled at him.