Kayden: The Past (22 page)

I walked through the streets with my clothes dripping and my shoes squishing. The house was dark and looked like no one was home as I walked up the driveway. I knocked on the door, but no one answered. I used my key in my pocket to unlock the front door and enter ‘our’ home.

I walked through the hallway and turned on the lights in various rooms, looking at all our things, things I bought or she stole. I started thinking about all of the money, sweat, and tears that I poured into our relationship and the home we made together. My anger increased, and my mind raced.

I should’ve grabbed my work clothes and left. I already looked like a crazy person walking down the street soaking wet. Would I have done any of this sober? I’d like to think not. I may have used my key to get in the house, but what I did next, I wouldn’t have done without liquid courage.

Alcohol is a funny thing that way. It’s like a little voice inside your head that tells you to do it – don’t worry it’ll be okay. It’s the greatest traitor and my biggest seducer.

I wanted to break her things, make tears come to her eyes when she walked in. I started grabbing items off the bookcase, the coffee table, and the dining room hutch. I wanted to crush her the only way I knew how.

At what point did I snap? Looking back, I’m not sure. I’d been so controlled and excluded from other people in my life… she’d played the last head game with me. There’d be no going back after this, and I didn’t give a fuck.

I couldn’t stop myself; she was throwing me away over hanging out with my friends and a drink, well maybe three or five. I came here to grab my shit for work and leave, but I got wrapped up in my anger. I wanted her to feel my pain.

I grabbed my work clothes out of the closet and saw hers hanging; the temptations was too great. I set my uniform on the bed with my keys and wallet and walked back in the closet. I grabbed as many clothes as I could handle and walked out to the pool. I thought about lighting them on fire in the grill, but I thought that would take too much time. I threw them in the pool, making the bitch have to work to get them back. I closed the sliding door behind me and walked out the front door.

I had become so consumed in my rage and revenge that I walked out of the house without my clothes, wallet and keys. I didn’t think of it until later. It was my great epic fail, but I didn’t realize it yet.

I walked the same path, tracing my wet footprints still on the street back. I swam across at a slower rate, no need to rush. I crawled out and reached for my keys, but they were missing. My heart started to beat quicker than it had from the physical exertion of the swim; panic began to rise in my throat.

Alcohol made me stupid. Let’s not forget cruel and angry at times, but in this moment, I realized that the main reason I went there – my clothes, I’d left them behind with my keys and wallet. Why didn’t I just leave a sign with my picture and name saying ‘I did it’?

I walked back to my truck, hoping the doors were unlocked and maybe a spare key would be inside. It was wishful thinking but no luck. I started walking with no destination in site. I needed to get to a phone; I left mine locked in the truck and called one of the guys to pick me up. A gas station was a couple miles away, but it seemed that I had all the time in the world. John had to call Lisa, and she made it home just as I left – it was the only way it could have happened so fast.

I started to walk, but I saw the police cars and their flashers moving up and down the street. I hid in the woods and evaded the police for a short time, but they caught up to me – they always do.

Maybe I moved slower than I remember or they were quicker than lightning, but it all happened in the blink of an eye. My world would be changed forever, and Lisa would be the one to deliver the final blow.

I sat in the back of the police car and watched as the houses passed by in a blur. I didn’t say a word. What was there to say? I was immediately brought into the processing area of the police station. My fingerprints were taken; clothes removed and replaced, and I was brought into a holding area. I had flashbacks of St. Louis, and my brief stint in county jail. I knew I’d have longer to pay for this offense; this was a whopper, and Lisa would be out for blood.

I was brought into a little room for questioning. “Mr. Michaels, you’re being charged with burglary. Remember, you have the right to an attorney.”

“Burglary? I live there. It’s my home.” I sat there and stared at the guy across the table from me.

“You aren’t a legal resident, and you didn’t have permission to enter the property. You’ve destroyed thousands of dollars’ worth of personal property during the break in.”

“I live there. My mail is delivered there; my toothbrush is in the bathroom, and everything I own is in that house. How can you say I’m not a resident?” I tried to keep my body calm even though my voice was rising. “Go inside and look, try the key on my key ring.”

“We’ll look into it, Mr. Michaels. You’ll see the judge in the morning.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure you will.” That was the end of the conversation. They were patronizing me by saying they’d look into it. I knew better. I was up a creek without a paddle in a river of bullshit.

The night crawled as I watched the minutes tick by on the small black and white clock outside my cell. I rested my body on the hard bed, but my mind raced… I needed to figure out a way to make her happy, and maybe she would take me back – I wanted her to drop the charges. It would be my only way out of this nightmare.
I must be fucking crazy too.

The guard arrived outside my cell early in the morning to bring me to court. I was granted bond, and my mother had found someone to post it on my behalf. I didn’t call my mom to even tell her what had happened, but in this sleepy town, I made the eleven o’clock news. My picture filled the screen along with all the gory details. Everyone I knew in this city had seen the story. I was embarrassed – no horrified – that my actions and alcohol had ruined my name and made my mom and Joe look bad.

I’d have a couple of weeks to meet with my public defender before my appearance in court. Public defenders aren’t always interested in fighting your case, but more into helping you settle the matter in the best way they feel possible, whatever is quickest and least work. I shared all the details with him and made him aware that it was my home. He said he would work with the prosecution and see what could be done to throw out the case or reduce the charges. Burglary is a felony charge and required jail time.

It didn’t really matter at this point. I knew I’d never be welcomed back at work, and it would take ages before I could show my face again without shame to the friends I made in town, especially my parents’ friends who had taken me in as one of their own.

I made bail but had nowhere to go. My mom wasn’t in court waiting to take me home; she may not have wanted her baby to sit in jail, but she wasn’t ready to see me. I sat in the hallway of the courthouse trying to decide where to go while I waited for court, but nothing came to me.

“Why haven’t you left?” I looked up from staring at my feet, like they had some magical answer, to the face of my asshole public defender.

“I don’t know where to go. I don’t have a home anymore.”

“Salvation Army has a place around the corner you can stay. They have beds and programs to help you get back on your feet.” He had a smile on his face like he just told me to go hang out at the Ritz in luxury while I waited to find out my future. “I’ll be in touch about the case.”

“Yeah, sure you will.” I watched him as he walked away in the mass of people.

I followed his advice. I walked into the front doors of the shelter and tried to think of it as temporary. I’d only stay a night.

The one good thing that came out of the Salvation Army was enrolling in their programs for alcoholics. I wasn’t happy about it at the time, but it was a requirement if you wanted to live there. I sat through the meetings and listened to the stories people wanted to share, but I never shared my story. The only thing I had was my phone that the company returned to me after I made bail.

I worked in their store to help ‘pay’ for my room and board. Lisa contacted me shortly after my bail hearing. I didn’t answer her first phone call or the second. I didn’t have anything to say to her; she was the reason I lived in a shelter and worked in a thrift store, but eventually, my hard shell and fucking curiosity got the best of me.

“Hello.”

“Kayden?”

“What do you want, Lisa? Not done torturing me enough?” I sighed as I stretched out on my uncomfortable mattress of metal springs and no padding.

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s all you have to say after all this bullshit?”

“I really am sorry. I want you back. Please, come back.”

“How can I come back? I’m awaiting trial, Lisa, and you put me through hell for months.”

“Come back to me, and I’ll call and have the charges dropped, please.”

I wanted to go back to my home and my record cleared more than anything in the world. “You get the charges dropped, and I’ll come home; I’ll come back to you.”

“I’ve missed you, Kayden, more than the air that I breathe. I fucked up. I’m sorry! I don’t know what else to say.” I could hear her sniffle on the other end of the phone.

A woman in tears and I never mixed. I hated and loved her, why? I don’t fucking know. She was the reason for my fucked up life being in shambles; well, not entirely, I played a pretty damn big role in my downfall too.

“I’ve missed you too, Lisa. I hate what’s happened to us. Things need to change if I come back.”

“They will,” she said quickly. “I promise.”

I wanted my life back.

I waited for the call from my attorney to tell me that the charges had been dropped, but it never came. My trial day arrived, and I walked into court feeling like a noose was firmly planted around my neck waiting for the floor to give way.

I stood in front of the judge and prayed that it was all just a cruel dream, but it was very much a nightmare that I lived, and nothing I did could make it go away.

I plead guilty and didn’t contest the charges just as my lawyer told me to do. He said that the judge would go easy on me.

“The court accepts your plea, Mr. Michaels. I’m withholding adjudication until after your probationary period. Complete your probation and pay court ordered restitution, and your record will be cleared and no guilt will be placed upon your record,” the judge said.