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“You were angry I rejected you,” she tells me with a sigh.
“That’s still no excuse for hurting someone I claim to love, I should have listened to Khan; I was just so focused on my plans to take down your father, too focused on my dreams I forgot you would have them too,” I tell her. She nods her head but adds nothing, she doesn’t need to.
I know she’s forgiven me, I can feel it, I just hope she can forgive herself. Because right now, all I feel is her guilt. She feels guilty because she ran, but what option did she truly have? Guilt over Alisha, but how was she supposed to know her best friend was a vamp? Guilt for allowing it and not fighting back, all those things play on her mind, yet now sensing her thoughts so clearly. I realize she was doing the best she could with the hand she was dealt.
Unfortunately, that meant allowing some things to protect others, and now I see why she didn’t try to run, the risk to Alisha and our sons outweighed the risk to herself. Her sanity, her body, and her heart were a sacrifice she could live with, losing them she couldn’t. So she played along and… prayed I would come save her. Instead, I broke her all over again.
“Come on, we should find Sondra,” she breathes out, turning and walking out of the apartment. I follow, closing the door behind me when cigarette smoke wafts to me, Elena looks back at me before rushing down the steps to the back of the café. Following her, she steps out the back of the store and I spot Sondra sitting in a green weathered plastic chair. She has a smoke between her lips. She is deathly pale, her skin clammy, and sweat glistens on her neck and forehead.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
“Sondra,” Elena breathes, and Sondra looks up. She smiles, but it doesn’t look right; it’s forced, and I can tell she is in pain.
“I see you found me,” she murmurs before coughing and choking on her cigarette. Elena instantly rushes over to her and rubs her back. Reaching for the glass of water on the table, I pass it to her when Elena snatches it and sniffs it. She scrunches her face up, passing it back to me. I sniff it, finding it is vodka, not water like it appears to be.
“Grab a glass of water from inside,” Elena tells me. Sondra continues to cough but holds up her hand, it’s shakes terribly, but she snatches the glass off me. Elena watches her worriedly and glances at me.
“Call an ambulance,” Elena tells me.
“You’ll do no such thing. Can’t a woman die in peace?” Sondra snaps at her.
“I don’t want you to die at all.” Elena retorts.
“Well, it is not up to you; I want to die and die I shall. Not even the gods will stop me from croaking this time, the grim reaper is knocking, and he wants an accomplice; I have volunteered,” she says, only to wheeze and start coughing again.
“I feel a hospital would be far more comfortable than this plastic chair. If you insist on dying, wouldn’t you rather die in comfort?” Elena asks her. It’s funny watching them, they have their own love language, and it comes out in short replies and sarcastic words thrown at each other.
Sondra sighs, her fingers white as she grips the table, and she leans back. Blood dribbles from between her lips, and she shakily wipes her mouth on the back of her hand.
“Why here, of all places?” Elena demands.
“You know why, Elena. Let's not play pretend. Besides, I didn’t want to drop dead next to Marco. Only when I got here did I find this whole dying ordeal is taking a little longer than predicted, I kinda believed I would croak going over the bridge, but seems Floyd is trying to torture me more by dragging this shit out. You hear me, you old bastard, I am coming for you, not even death will save you from me!” she yells at the sky, shaking her fist. I raise my eyebrows at her.
“Oh stop looking at me like that! Now be a love and fetch me another glass of vodka, if I am going to hell, I am going drunk!” she huffs. Elena presses her lips in a line but nods for me to do as she asks, walking over to Sondra’s car, I grab the bottle only to hear the chair scrape across the ground. Glancing back, I see Elena helping her to stand, but Sondra smacks her hands away, making Elena toss hers in the air.
“I’m coming, I’m coming, just hold your damn horses,” Sondra mutters.
She stands upright, and wobbles on her feet. “I’m driving!” Sondra declares.
“Like hell you are, you may want to visit the grim-reaper but I sure as hell don’t!” Elena scolds, snatching her keys before Sondra can off the table.
“Oi muscles, get here and help carry a legless old woman to the car,” she snaps, clicking her fingers at me.
Chuckling, I walk over to her and scoop her up while Elena grabs the door.
“Now, now, stop that. Why so handsy!” she snaps at me.
“Exactly how am I supposed to grab you if I can’t touch you?” I ask her. She seems to think for a second.
“He has a point,” Sondra babbles to Elena. I set her in the seat of her car, but when I go to close her door, she clicks her tongue.
“Weren’t you getting me a vodka?” she asks and I glance at Elena over the roof of the car. She sighs but nods and I quickly grab the bottle and her glass.
“Life's too short to wait for you to pour me a glass, just give it here, I’ll show you how real women drink!” she tsk’s. She swigs from the bottle and nestles back in her seat, pulling a cigarette from her packet. Elena climbs in the driver’s seat and starts Sondra’s car. On the drive home, I ring Marco and the relief in his voice is evident.
He tells me he will meet us back at the packhouse, yet the longer we drive, the more Elena keeps glancing in the mirror at Sondra. Peering over my shoulder, Sondra is leaning to one side, head slumped forward, bloody drool seeping from her lips and her unlit smoke has fallen into her lap.
Sondra mumbles to herself in her half drunk stupor and I turn back to the front. However, just before we arrive, the bumpy dirt road must wake her because she speaks.
