Here's to the Past [Jaria Fic #2]

[Eastern Orange]

It’s been seven years since I’ve revisited our old apartment. It’s taken me that long to scrounge up enough courage to see her again, after leaving her…again. I left like last time; angry words seared into pride, head pounding from raised voices, fists white with tension, the hallow note of a door slamming behind me and the ensuing silence from the other side. It’s that silence that has haunted me most; I can’t stop hearing it. Over the years, I’ve tried filling it. The sound of the door opening again behind me, the sound of her crying on the other side, the sound of her calling after me, the sound of her laughing it all off like we used to do as kids when our pride wasn’t so important, but I can’t drown out that silence. It’s eaten away at me, nagged at me, begged me to return and finish the argument. I never gave her that chance. Not the first time, and not this time. I walked out before she could get her say both times. It’s because I knew she could calm me down. I knew she had the power to unravel my anger, and I didn’t want her to have that power. I resented it. I resented it even more the second time around.

I resented her.

So I left and returned to my manor with my shitty wife and my wonderful kids. I returned to my butlers and maids, and having everyone kiss my ass and look at me with a mixture of fear and envy and hatred. I returned to my empty life, and turned my back on the one thing that had ever brought me happiness, all because I didn’t like having someone have that sort of power over me. I was always a selfish asshole, that’s one thing that never changed. I was raised believing that power was everything, and that I should fight tooth and nail to preserve it.

Old habits die hard.

Aria was dangerous. She could make me forget about anything and everything. I could run my company into the ground, I could burn down my manor, I could forget about my children, all for her. My happiness, my will to live, depended solely on her. I needed her desperately, and because of that, I was not powerful. She was the one with the power, and I couldn’t stand it. With one look she could silence me. With one word she could have me at her side. With one touch, I was putty in her hands. I had to leave. I had no choice.

It was worse this time. I couldn’t believe I was doing it again. I had promised, and now I was making a liar out of myself. Not that I really cared about that. I was more concerned with how Aria would take it. I had hoped that she could move on; find someone else to take care of her, someone who wasn’t as selfish as me. I honestly hoped that she wouldn’t suffer, though I knew that it was a fool’s hope. I knew what I was doing, and how much it would hurt her, yet I did it anyway. God, I hate myself. I’d do anything to take it all back, to not have messed up this badly. But I can’t. I lived with my decision for seven years.

I was acutely aware of what it felt like to live without love, but I was still unprepared for the bleak and useless existence I experienced once I had crawled back to my manor. My wife hadn’t even noticed my absence, but my kids were happy I was back. Their love only slightly eased the terrible ache that had settled itself in my soul. Until, of course, I started feeling bitter toward them for not being hers.

That’s when I had reached rock bottom. I was bitter toward my own children for not having the right mother. I had always hated my wife for not being Aria, but I never felt anything like that toward my kids. It freaked me out. I started to avoid them. I was afraid of what I’d say, or what I’d do. I spent long hours locked in my office, doing anything to get my mind away from my entirely wrong family.

I thought about offing myself more than once.

I had a gun locked in my desk drawer, just a key turn away. I took it out multiple times a day to look at it. Sometimes I even put the barrel in my mouth; the cold metal left an odd taste. Other times, I put it to my temple, just to see how it felt. I liked it there best; it was closest to the brain. I loved to put the slightest pressure on the trigger, as I did this, each time going a little further, teasing myself, savoring the feeling of adrenaline in my veins, and my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I always stopped short of pulling it completely. I just wanted to feel alive, is all, and I couldn’t achieve that unless I was a finger slip away from death.

I can’t say what finally did it for me. What finally made me wake the fuck up. I think it was when I walked in on my wife –the woman who I thought was just a gold digging whore – sleeping with my butler. She didn’t apologize. She didn’t even try to cover herself up. She just looked at me and told me she was leaving. Apparently, she was in love with the butler and would rather live with him in a dirty shack than continue living a life that was, so she said, comparable to digging your brain out with a rusty spoon by way of your eye socket. I had to agree.

I told her she could have the manor, my factories, everything, and headed out that very day. I knew it would take a lot of begging and general groveling for Aria to accept me back, but I didn’t care. I was prepared to lay everything out on the line, just as long as I could have her back. I was no longer concerned with my power, or whatever. It didn’t matter. She could chop my balls off and hang them around her neck for all I cared. I had a lot of time to think about it on my hike through the forest and into the city, and I knew beyond a doubt that Aria was enough for me. I would never be in want for anything as long as I had her, and I would not stop until she was mine again.

~~~

I look up at the building that Aria and I used to live in together. The outside still looked the same; broken windows, bricks that were so old that they disintegrated into dust when touched, a foundation that was cracked and stained with pee and shit from various bums. A wailing of a baby was emitting from one of the apartments, along with a young couple screaming their heads off at each other. I smiled to myself, picturing Aria and me fighting over how to properly change a diaper. I often wondered what would have happened if Aria never lost that first pregnancy, what kind of parents we would have been, or if would have been able to stay together. That miscarriage had put a lot of strain on us. We were young. We couldn’t handle it.

The smile fades from my lips and I make my way inside.

The stairway is dank and smells of sweat and piss. It is covered in mysterious stains I can’t make out in the dim light. With each tromp of my boot, a little cloud of dust puffs up to greet me, tickling my nose and stinging my eyes. Just like old times. I missed this dingy old staircase. Its worn handrails and creaky steps sounded like home to me, and brought me back to better days. The familiarity of this place brought another smile to my lips, and I couldn’t help but to feel a bit more optimistic about coming here.

I don’t know how long it was that I stared at the door, but it had to have been awhile. When I finally stir from whatever reverie I was stuck in, my back is screaming for a chair, and my knees don’t want to bend. Man, it sucks getting old. Not only am I having weird breaks from reality, my body is falling to shit. I take a deep breath, work the soreness and nervousness from my bones and step up to the paint-chipped door. I hesitate, one, two, three minutes before I left up my fist and gently knock. I wait a few seconds. Knock again. Wait. Knock. Wait. Wait.

Maybe she isn’t at home? I mean, it was a long shot that she’d be home right now. I just had hoped…No matter. I mull over my options and decide that I’ll just sit right there and the hallway and wait for her return…that is, if she still lives here. Just as I’m about to turn away from the door, I hear something move within the apartment. “Hello?” I call out, and knock again. I don’t hear anything more. Maybe I imagined it? No, I know what I heard. I knock again, but there is still no answer. Annoyed, I try the handle. It turns without any problem. It’s unlocked.

Dilemma: Do I walk away, or do I open the door.

I open the door of course!

I take a deep breath and push the door. It creaks open and a strange stench wafts out and hits me full in the face. My stomach turns and I fall back into the hallway, gagging. Through watery eyes I can see that the apartment beyond is in total disarray. Books, papers, clothes, and trash litter the floor. The foul stench unfurls itself across the threshold and finds its way to my nose; I have to cover my nose with my shirt to dampen the smell. Seeing the apartment in this state of neglect makes my heart gallop in my chest. The good feelings I felt before melt away and are replaced with a terrible sense of dread. What is that awful smell? Where is Aria?

I’m scared. I don’t want to know what’s in there. I can’t know. What if it’s – No. I can’t. I can’t.

But.

I can’t walk away either. On shaking legs, I stumble forward into the apartment. The smell is even stronger now. Acrid. It burns in my throat, and makes me take short, shallow breaths through my mouth. I look around the apartment now that I can see more of it. It’s mostly empty; it’s only contents are the tatters of clothes, books, and trash strewn on the floor I saw before. There is a vaguely human shaped lump in the corner of the room, partially blocked by a mountain of clothes, and covered by a vomit-green blanket.

I can’t breathe.

(Is it her?)

I can’t go over there.

(It can’t be.)

She had to have moved. The apartment held too many memories for her and she couldn’t take it anymore…she had to have moved away.

(That smell…)

I don’t need to go over there.

(It’s her, isn’t it?)

I don’t need to look, it’s just more trash. Or maybe some bum is squatting in here, and that’s him.

(It’s her.)

I drop to my knees, and cover my face with my hands. I’m just jumping to conclusions. Everything is fine. Aria moved out. Yes, that’s what had to have happened.

(No she didn’t. That’s her in the corner, there.)

I inch forward on my hands and knees, eyes fixated on the mass in the corner. The smell is barely tolerable. I ignore it.

(It’s the smell of desperation, loneliness, hopelessness. Death.)

I’m right there. The mysterious bundle is just an arm length away. All I need to do is just reach out and remove the blanket. That’s it. One swipe and it’s all over.

(She’ll be dead.)

I reach out; my fingers are millimeters away from the stained fabric.

(She is there, she is under it. It’s her. It’s her.)

A loud noise makes me snatch my hand back. I stand up and look around wildly. I see movement in a shadow cast by a dirty kitchen counter. “Aria?” I whisper, stepping forward tentatively. “It’s me, Julian.” I’m sick with relief. I could throw up. All that suspense has left me trembling and my fingers ache to touch her face. “Please, I just need to see you.” No one comes forward, but I’m starting to make out a vague figure. “Aria?” The fear is starting to return.

(Why would she hide?)

“Aria?” I say again, my voice cracking. A little dingy foot appears, followed by a leg, and a torso, and then, god help me, a little face; a perfect replica of Aria, only in miniature. My breath catches in my throat, and I stumble backwards. The little Aria’s eyes are round in fear, and I can see from here that they are the same stormy grey of my eyes. I really feel like throwing up now.

“How do you know mommy?” The little girl asks, getting to her feet and stepping forward. She wobbles a little. “You’re that man.” She says, somewhat accusingly and she points to the pictures that litter the floor. I can see that some of them are of me and Aria. Tears fill my eyes. She comes closer and I can see just how pale she is. “Mommy cries when I ask about you.” I suck in a shuddering breath. “Where is your mommy?” I ask, my voice wobbling all over the place, though I’m trying to keep calm. The little girl’s face crumbles, and she turns away from me. She lefts up a shaking hand and points toward the corner.

That corner.

“Mommy won’t get up.”

Everything blurs around the edges, and I have to struggle to remain sane, or conscious, or whatever. I slowly turn back toward the bundle, hysteria bubbling in my chest. I drop to my knees next to the bundle and after a slight second of hesitation pull the blanket away. A cloud of flies rises up and scatters. I stare, dumbfounded at the bloated body I find. I struggle to breathe as I take in the sight of maggoty flesh, gaping mouth, and dull staring eyes. I reach out and stop just short of touching her. Aria. My Aria. She didn’t deserve this. “What’s wrong with her?” I hear from right behind me. I jump and turn around, coming face to face with the girl that looks so much like my beloved Aria. Without thinking, I pull her into a hug and sob into her dirty blond hair. She lets me.

How long had she been dead? Not long. What if I had come sooner? Could I have saved her? Just a few days too late. I could have stopped this. Why hadn’t I come sooner? Just a little sooner. Why couldn’t she have held out longer? Just a little longer.

How had it happened?

I can’t look now. For now, all I can do is hold onto my daughter and cry.

~~~

She overdosed. The needle was still in her arm. I don’t know how long it was until I was able to look, but when I did, I had to grab the little girl and leave. I was shaking, I was crumbling, I was losing it. I couldn’t remain in that building. It was filled with memories of Aria. Aria yelling, Aria laughing, Aria crying, Aria living. I had to get out.

Outside, the cold air helped to clear my head. I spent a long time filling my lungs with air that didn’t smell like my decaying loved one, while trying not to think about the little girl who had my eyes. It was hard since the little girl in question was staring at me with said eyes. I take one last shuddering breath and look at her. “What’s your name?” I ask the girl, calming down. I knew where my future lead and it was comforting knowing the end. “Julia Scott.” She whispers back. I have to take a second to calm down again. “That’s funny.” I attempt to smile. “My name is Julian.” The little girl cocks her head at this and gives me a funny look. “My papa’s name is Julian. He’s dead.” A jagged pain spikes through my heart, and I flinch. It would make since for Aria to tell her that her father was dead. “I’m sorry.” I whisper. “My mommy is dead too.” She says matter-of-factly. I swallow my tears and give her a grim nod. “I’ll take you somewhere safe. “ I say thickly, grabbing her hand in mine and tugging her down the road, away, away, away from the past.

I get lost a few times, it’s been awhile since I’ve last been there, and my memory is not what it used to be. Julia is silent the whole way, never once complaining about the long walk, or the cold. Finally, I find the house I’m looking for. Julia recognizes it immediately and dashes forward, ripping her hand from mine. I clench my empty fist, committing to memory what her little hand felt like in mine. She ignores me, and bangs loudly on the door.

The door opens to a familiar face. When he sees me, his face turns murderous. He steps out of the house and without warning punches me square in the nose. I fall backwards, my head bounces off pavement. “Uncle Liam!" I hear Julia squeal in surprise. I pick myself back up slowly. He pushes me back down. “What you did to my sister –” He growls, but cuts himself when he realizes that Julia is there with me. He turns around and gets a good look at her, dirty and starved. He turns his fury back on me. “What the hell is going on?!” He snarls. I look up at him, and I watch him take in my expression. His brow knits together in confusion. Slowly, it dawns on him why I would have his niece and why I would come to him. His face slackens, and his eyes go dead. He bends down and gently picks me up off the ground. When I’m back on my feet he pulls me into a spine-crushing hug and sobs into my neck. “My little sister.” He moans, clutching me tighter. I just stand there and let him hug me.

Later, he invites me inside, and we talk over a few things. He agrees to look after Julia until I am able to. “I expect you back in a week, ya hear?” He says, clutching the lapels on my jacket. All I can do is nod my head numbly. He leans forward and peers into my eyes. “She deserves a father.” He says gruffly. I look away from him, staring at Julia sitting with a doll in her hands. “Her father is dead.” I say softly and yank myself from his grip. “In a week.” He asserts before stepping away from me so I could say goodbye to Julia.

I call Julia over. She looks up at me from the doll she is clutching and gives me an odd look. She doesn’t move. I beckon again. She comes reluctantly. “Good bye.” I tell her, and try to give her a hug. She steps back and gives me another weird look. “Bye.” She says shortly, annoyed. She doesn’t know me. She is too young to guess who I am and her mother told her that her father was dead, so there was no reason for her to suspect it anyway. I was just some random man to her. “I’ll see you around.” I ache to hug her one last time, but she was already backing away from me to stand next to her uncle. Liam waves at me and mouths ‘remember’. I pretend to not see and leave.

~~~

I returned to the manor. My wife opened the door herself. I’m guessing one of the maids went to get her when they say me approaching. “What are you doing here?” She hisses. I don’t answer her. I push her roughly out of my way and let myself in. The butler is there, looking like he wants to stop me. I fix him with a glare, and he slinks away. Once a servant, always a servant. “You left.” Sienna screeches, indignant at being manhandled. “I’m back.” I say with enough force for her to take a step back. I’ve never hit her, but I’ve come close. She seems to be remembering those moments. Still, Sienna is a stupid woman, she never did learn when to quit. “What, that whore you were with turn you away? That little slut you are always pining after. I hear you moan her name in your sleep. Aria…Oh, please, Ar –” She is cut off by my hand grabbing her around her throat. “Listen you little bitch,” I snarl through clenched teeth. “You are never to speak her name again. You hear me? Never.” She struggles to breathe, her hands claw at my wrist. I squeeze tighter.

It would be so easy…so easy. Just a little tighter…

“Daddy?” I nearly jump out of my skin. I fling Sienna away from me, and turn to face my kids. “Hey guys.” I say and open my arms for a hug. Only the youngest, Lynette, runs into them, the other two stay back and eye me suspiciously. “Daddy, I thought you were gone forever!” She cries and squeezes me around the middle. “He probably just came back to get money.” Michael hisses and crosses his arms. Alba puts an arm around his shoulders protectively. “What were you doing to mother?” She asks, looking beyond me to Sienna clutching her throat in the background. I ignore the question and kneel down so I was face to face with Lynette.

“Daddy loves you.” I whisper, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear. “Did you know that?” She nods her head and looks down, sensing something wrong with my tone. “I have to go away now.” She gasps and looks at me, horrified. “No!” She wails, crying already. She flings herself around my neck. “Daddy won’t be returning. Listen, honey. This is very important. You have a sister.” I whisper urgently, low enough that the other can’t hear. She quiets down a bit. “Her name is Julia, Julia Scott. She is living with her uncle Liam Fowler. She is about a year younger than you. Can you remember that? Julia Scott. Liam Fowler.” She nods slightly, and whimpers. “Get out of this place as soon as you can, honey. Don’t end up like daddy. Go out and have a fun life, okay?” I try to pull away from her, put she holds on fast and her cries pick up again, more desperate this time. “No daddy, no! Take me with you. Take me with you.” She pleads. “I can’t, honey.” I say softly, and gently unwind her arms from around my neck. “No!” She screams, fighting. “I’m sorry.” I finally break free and stand up. She clings to my leg. “Daddy, please!”

The future I laid out for myself doesn't have to come true. I don't have to give up on life. But…that gun in my drawer is calling to me, beckoning me with a sweet lullaby, promising to end it all. It would be so easy. I don't need to live another day with Aria. I don't need to wake up each morning with her name on my lips, and her absence heavy in my heart. I could end it all so easily. Walk out on life, like I walked out on Aria.

I look down at the little face of Lynette, twisted in pain, hanging onto me for dear life, and suddenly the lure of the gun isn’t so strong. What am I thinking? Leaving my daughter here? She needs me, just like Aria needed me. I failed Aria, but I could still help Lynette. I could move into the district and take her with me. I could raise her away from all of this madness. I could even try to connect with Julia. Me, Lynette, and Julia. I could be happy, and better yet, I could make them happy. “It’s okay.” I say soothingly, stroking Lynette's hair. “It’s going to be okay. You can come with me.” The utter joy I see break across her face is enough for me to regret ever thinking of leaving her.

“Like hell, you bastard.” Sienna says from behind me. I'm about to turn around and laugh in her face, but I hear the cocking of a gun and feel cold metal pressed against my scalp. Lynette screams. I raise my hands slowly to show Sienna I was defenseless. “Shh, it’s okay baby.” I say to Lynette. “Ha, you think you can just waltz up in here, choke me in front of my kids, and steal my little girl? You are a fucking lunatic.” Lynette is crying again. Michael and Alba do nothing but stare at me with emotionless eyes. “Say goodbye to your father kids.” Lynette screams again, but the other two remain silent.

“Lynette, remember Julia, and remember I lov-"

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