Where We Meet Again

by Wilson, A. M.

  “Um, Evelyn and I were just going to get some ice cream. Do either of you want anything?” Kiersten interjects.

  “Yeah, mom. Russell’s has this new triple chocolate ganache if you want to try it.” Evelyn pipes in excitedly.

  “That sounds…” the scratchy words forces me to stop to clear my throat, “that sounds great, honey, sure. Let me give you some money.”

  I turn in search of my purse. A minute alone would be good, but I don’t make it a step before Law’s voice comes at me.

  “It’s on me. I’ll take one, too.” He pulls his wallet from his back pocket and curls a twenty into Evelyn’s hand.

  “Thank you,” I whisper to Kiersten as she passes. What I’m thanking her for, I don’t know.

  What I do know is that after seventeen days, Law shows up on my doorstep, and I’m interested in what he has to say without my daughter around to eavesdrop. Kiersten took care of that problem. Proving, as always, that she’s the best friend a person could have.

  Together, me standing in the entry and him on the porch, we watch them drive away. A wind whips out of nowhere, blasting icy crystals across my cheeks. I tremble from the cold.

  “In,” he commands, then his body pushes me back into the house. Throwing the door closed behind him, he twists the locks and toes out of his boots. “Bedroom.”

  My spine stiffens in shock. “You’re out of your damn mind if you think after disappearing for seventeen days, you can just come back in here and order me to lie down for you like some submissive sex toy.”

  His brows shoot up, nearly disappearing beneath the hair hanging over his forehead. “You know about what a submissive is?”

  Considering he knows about my near-virginal sex status, I may have just admitted my childhood-love-turned-enemy that I read erotica. What could be more embarrassing than that?

  “You want to talk, then talk.” Changing the subject seems like a great idea.

  “You’ve been counting how long I’ve been gone.” The roughness of his voice takes my breath away. I missed it, missed him, even though I can’t admit it out loud.

  “It wasn’t hard when my daughter felt your absence more than anything else.”

  Law swallows and runs a hand over his messy hair. I track the movement with my eyes, fighting the urge to reach out. I don’t mean to throw that in his face when I understand why he left.

  “You can’t do that again, Law. You can’t do that to her. Either you’re here or you’re not, but you can’t keep going back and forth. I’m not going to do anything to stop you from having a relationship with her, whatever form that takes, but decide and stick with it. You and I might not get along, but you’re hurting her more than anyone else.”

  “You’re right, and I’m sorry.”

  My jaw drops. Did he just… did that really happen? Did he apologize?

  I don’t get the chance to ask. With one big step, he closes the space between us, presses me against the wall, and cages me in with his arms. The breath leaves my lungs in a whoosh, and it feels like my heart stutters to a stop. “What’s happening?” I whisper, breathless.

  “You and I, we need to talk. In the bedroom. Because if those two come back and we’re not done talking, I don’t want that to be a reason to stop.” His eyes drop to my lips, and he runs his tongue over his bottom one. “Once that’s over, we’ll do other things.”

  The tip of my tongue tingles with a question to that statement, but I swallow it down. I’m not going to ask. I’m not sure if I want to know.

  “You need to let me go so we can.”

  He straightens and slides his arms away, leaving me feeling oddly bereft.

  “Lead the way.”

  I close my bedroom door behind him, resisting the urge to rest my forehead against it. Darkness bathes the room except for a sliver of blue light coming from the master bathroom. Law becomes a silhouette moving fluidly through the darkness before my bedside lamp clicks on.

  “Come and sit.” He drops himself onto my bed.

  “I’d rather stand.”

  “Cami, please. I’m not here to fight with you. I haven’t… I haven’t slept. I haven’t been able to stop thinking.”

  Now that he mentions it, I recall when I answered the door. The shadows of my bedroom play tricks with the angles of his face, making it even more weary and drawn. Releasing a sigh, I climb up and sit cross-legged in the center of the bed.

  Law doesn’t waste any time launching in to what he has to say. “I went back home to Logansville.” He fiddles with a loose string on my bedspread, his eyes drawn downward to study his movements. They come back to mine. “Do you remember? The day with my dad?”

  I make to get off the bed. “We don’t need to talk about this.” Panic crawls beneath my skin like a colony of ants. Wiping my hands over my arms doesn’t make it stop. “Please, can we just move on?”

  “Stop.” The gruff command freezes my attempt to flee. He closes his eyes. When he opens them, they mist in the dim light. “We can’t move on until we talk, and I can tell you right now that I’d very, very much like to move on with you, instead of without you. So please, take a breath, and answer me,” he pleads. “What do you remember from that day?”

  My lip trembles as memories flash through my head. “I haven’t exactly relived it over the years, but I torture myself with the guilt every day.”

  He flinches. “But do you remember from the moment you saw my dad until the… end?” He hesitates, as if the word gets stuck in his throat.

  My earlier anger returns like the flick of a lighter. “Yes! I remember. I remember crying on your bed. I remember your dad coming in when I thought nobody was home. I remember him bringing me a drink.” Law’s eyes flash, but I keep going, unable to stop. “Him telling me I was beautiful, and that I didn’t deserve to be crying. He called you an idiot and then told me he could show me how to feel good. Yes,” I spit the word that sits like acid on my tongue. “I remember.”

  He opens his jacket and digs around inside what must be an interior pocket, as his face changes into a weird mixture of relief tinged with sadness. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand any of this. He stays silent, but I’m not.

  “I’ve lived that moment of betrayal a thousand times since then, wondering why I did nothing to stop it. The only conclusion I’ve come up with is that I wanted to hurt you back.”

  “No, Cami, you didn’t.”

  My brow creases as confusion steals over me. “I’m sorry?”

  Paper crinkles, and he produces a letter from his pocket. “I found this at my dad’s house. You need to read it.”

  A shiver races through me at the thought of even touching that paper. “I can’t.”

  He shakes it in front of my face and gentles his voice. “You have to.”

  I don’t want to touch that paper. I don’t want to look at it, but the imploring look in his eyes has my hand reaching for it, anyway.

  The letter rustles and trembles in front of my face. I hardly get beyond the first sentence before my eyes burn with unshed tears. The man who penned the letter isn’t about to get any more of my pain, so with a steely breath, I shove them away.

  Thoughts race throughout my head as I read the lies a dying man wrote desperately to his son. I can’t make sense of it. Why would he say these things? Why would he, a decade and a half after forcing me to walk away from the person I dreamed of most, act like the mistake was his all along? Did he think taking blame would make him a better person and pave his pathway from hell into heaven?

  Would it make it right in Law’s eyes and redeem me even after the monstrous things I’d done?

  This isn’t true, this fictional picture he paints of our past. My hands shake so hard the words run together as I try to read the last few lines. Acid burns in my throat, but I choke it down in a race to get to the end.

  Two types of memories of that night flit through my head—the one I remember and the one his father created. They flip back and forth so quickly that co
nfusion sets in and anger wells up inside me like an over inflated balloon. I remember it all, don’t I?

  Just like the last time, the memory always cuts off right after he kissed me. Snap shots exist in my mind. Specific sensations, mostly. What I can’t do is relive the memory from beginning to end. Not because I choose not to, but because the pieces aren’t all there.

  When I read the last line, I want to set fire to the letter and erase the words from my head.

  “Why?” I choke, losing the precarious grip on my emotions. When I bring my gaze back to Law’s I’m surprised to see the confusion there. I don’t know what he expected me to feel, relief perhaps, but I feel nothing but numb.

  “What is it you’re asking?”

  “Why,” I begin quietly, but as I speak, that hold severs, and my unease sweeps forth like a raging river. “Why would you make me read this? Why would you do this to me, after everything I’ve done to keep myself away from you? Do you think this is helpful?” I smack the papers so hard they sound like the crack of a whip reverberating around the room. “Do you think, after what he put me through, I want to hear anything that he had left to say? What is the matter with you?” I screech, the papers slipping from my fingers in my desperation to crawl off the bed.

  Law hooks me with an arm around my abdomen and yanks me back into his chest.

  I struggle. The pain is too deep, and I fight to get away. Tears race down my cheeks, blinding me. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t listen to what he has to say.

  “Calm down, baby. Don’t you see? This wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault at all.”

  Oh, but it was. How doesn’t he see that?

  The effort leaks out of me, and I turn limp in his arms. This is over. That’s more clear to me now than ever.

  He misinterprets and buries his face in my hair, sighing. His hold tightens, but it’s not enough to stop the trembling.

  “Let go of me.”

  His lips touch my ear. “I don’t want to let you go again for the rest of my life.”

  “I loved you,” I murmur dejectedly.

  “I loved you too, Cami. I still do.”

  “No. I loved you. I nearly killed myself to spare you. I fought to build a life for Evelyn and me I knew you’d respect, even though you hated me, and I knew you’d never see it. I still lived my life with you in the back of my mind, like a shadow no amount of light would erase. I missed you, even though I knew you weren’t coming back.”

  “I am back. I’m back now.” He isn’t getting me.

  “You aren’t back.” This time when I fight to get up, he lets me go. Scrambling off the bed, my feet hit the floor, and I cross to the other side of the room.

  He tilts his head and waits.

  I swallow thickly. “My Law loved me with my flaws. When I made mistakes, he embraced them. Now I know, better than anybody, that I fucked up beyond repair, but I am not, and never will be, a victim.”

  It’s his turn to drop his mouth open. “Cami…”

  “You don’t get to tell me that I am,” I hiss, feeling wildly caged.

  “He raped you,” he spits in fury through clenched teeth.

  “I let him have sex with me.”

  “By definition of the law–ˮ

  “BY DEFINITION!” A short bark of laughter escapes. “I was sixteen. Yeah, a judge would have thrown him in jail or given him a slap on the wrist, but I can tell you since I was there that I did absolutely nothing to push him away.” I lean forward, losing the grip on my sanity and control. “Is that what you want to hear? Do you want to hear how he kissed me and that I thought it felt good? Do you want to hear me tell you I remember what it felt like having him shove his hand inside of my jeans, and I didn’t say no? That I didn’t scream or fight him off?”

  “Definition or not, he drugged you. He was the adult, and he knew what he was doing was wrong. He did it anyway. Do you think that maybe you didn’t fight or scream because you couldn’t? That subconsciously you knew there wasn’t anybody around to hear you?” He springs to his feet, but thankfully doesn’t come any closer. “Do you really remember enough to tell me you didn’t say no or pass out and close your eyes? That, in and of itself, would negate any consent you may think you gave.”

  My eyes slide to the side in thought, but I’m not quick enough in disguising it. He sees and knows he hit his mark.

  “I’ve lived with my mistake for fourteen years, and I didn’t say no. I’ve fought so hard to make something of my life, of Evelyn’s life, after he left me to dig myself out of that hole. I can’t agree with you. I won’t.”

  “You’ve been torturing yourself all this time. I know that’s hard, baby, but you need to look at it from another perspective. If that were your daughter instead of you, would you say those same things to her?”

  “Fuck you, Law. Of course, I wouldn’t.”

  “Exactly.” He stares me down with determination in his eye. He takes a step toward me, and I reciprocate with a step to the side. “Because deep down, you know. Your guilt for hurting me has clouded your judgment, but you know. If it were anybody else you cared about you’d be standing over here with me, instead of over there defending your side.”

  I close my eyes and drop my head back against the wall. The thud sounds more painful than it feels. Soft footfalls approach me, and my lids shoot open as I shuffle to the side. “You’re wrong.”

  Faster than I can react, he lunges and pins me against the wall. His forehead hits my temple, and his lips brush the shell of my ear. “No, you are. You are, Cami, my god, the most stubborn ass woman I’ve ever met, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving to you that you are wrong.”

  His hands cup the sides of my head. I stay still.

  “Do you know what my first thought was when I read that letter? That my entire life, everything I’d known, from the second you took off until the moment I found that envelope in a safe deposit box, had been a lie. You’re the only true thing in it. You’ve always been the one true thing. That’s how I know. What happened that day was on him. You didn’t do a damn thing wrong.”

  He lifts and presses a hard kiss to my forehead. The way he forces his lips away seems painful, and I can’t understand why. Then I watch, still frozen against the wall, as he heads for the door.

  “Why does it take a letter from your father to suddenly forgive me?” I call to his retreating back, fading fast into the sadness that threatens to envelop me. Why do we continue to play this game if it’s never going to work out?

  His torso faces the door, but he turns his neck to look at me. “It doesn’t.” The determination I see on his face slows my racing heart. “The only reason I left town was because I needed some time to forgive myself. I forgave you the second I dragged you from the room when your daughter’s heart stopped before your eyes. The love I’d witnessed from you was more powerful than anything I’d known in my entire life.”

  “But you were so mean,” I whisper without the filter I should apply with Law.

  “Yeah. I was pissed and confused, and I took that out on you. That doesn’t mean I didn’t forgive you.”

  As Law is known to do, he walks away, leaving me speechless in my bedroom.

  Ten minutes later, I hear the front door open and voices fill the inside. That’s when I unstuck myself to find my daughter laughing with her Aunt K, something I haven’t seen her do in weeks. I join them to devour my cup of Triple Chocolate Ganache. After that, I crawl alone into bed and cry silently until sleep takes pity on me and whisks me away.

  25

  Blackness fills the room when I startle from a deep sleep. I thrust a hand out to my nightstand to locate my phone, click it on, and read the time. 5:45. Releasing my stomach muscles, I settle back onto the bed with a grunt.

  My eyes flutter closed. An alarming beat comes from the front door. Loud and incessant, I realize sleepily the sound must have initially woken me up. I have one guess who’s at the door, and that knowledge causes me to bury my head back be
neath the pillow and continue to snooze.

  If he hasn’t already, he’s about to wake Evelyn. The momma bear alerts in me. My daughter’s had enough nightmares since the accident messing with her sleep. Therefore, I text him to tell him to shut up and that I’ll be there in a second.

  Not needing to allow him the pleasure of seeing me in my silk robe again, I jerk on a pair of jeans, fuzzy socks, and stretch a knit sweater over my head. The tragic case known as my hair is knotted into a messy bun as I trudge down the hall.

  As I near the front door, a suspicious rectangle hanging from the peephole catches my eye. As I draw closer, I note a folded piece of paper. I scan it, curl it in my fist, and wrench open the door without first checking outside.

  “Are you responsible for this?” I grumble at Law, indicating the note in my hand from Kiersten. She and Evelyn supposedly snuck out early this morning for breakfast. She’s bat-shit crazy if she assumes I don’t know my own daughter and that dragging her out of bed before ten is a near impossible feat. Which means she had some extra help.

  Awaiting his answer, I glare at him and ignore the way my stomach flips at the sight.

  The porch light bathes him in a glow, shadowing areas of his face and highlighting his best features. Like the smooth curve of his nose, and the dip between his nose and upper lip.

  With his eyes intense on mine, he circles his fingers around my wrist and tugs sharply. In one fluid movement, he scoops me into his arms before I hit the ground. He still hasn’t uttered a word when he reaches around to lock my door and secures it.

  “Law! What’re you doing?”

  “Quiet,” he murmurs gently.

  “Law.”

  “Shush. The neighbors are sleeping.” The grin spreading across his face reveals his teasing disposition.

  My heart thumps wildly in my chest. I clutch his neck and hold on. What’s going on? The question remains locked behind my lips.

  His truck waits in my driveway, a heavy-looking tarp covering the bed. My interest is piqued, but not by much. He’s a contractor. He probably keeps supplies in there he doesn’t want left exposed to the elements.