Out of the Shade

by S. A. McAuley

  Jesse couldn’t hold back his own tears anymore.

  17

  Chuck’s brain was melting. He was sure of it. He pulled the covers over his head and buried himself under the comforter, keeping out the chilly air that had settled into his apartment during the night. He vaguely remembered coming home from the charity event he’d attended with Ben, then Ben leading him to the door to make sure he got inside before taking off in the Uber they’d had to hire at the end of the night. But the rest of the night was pretty much lost. He wasn’t wearing his tuxedo anymore. He was pretty sure he wasn’t wearing anything. Which was going to make getting up to piss really fucking cold. But before he even did that, he had to find a way to open his eyes without feeling like his brains were going to pour out of his eye sockets.

  “Fuck,” he mumbled as his cell phone started to ring…somewhere. Where the hell was it?

  He pushed off the covers just enough to peek his eyes and one arm out. He rummaged through the folds of fabric until he saw an edge of black, and his hand landed on the offending device. He picked it up, glanced at the name, and buried himself under the covers again.

  “Hey, Lila,” he answered.

  There was the screeching wail of babies in the background before Lila could say anything in reply. Chuck held the phone outside the covers as he waited for her to come on the line.

  “You there?” he finally heard.

  He yanked the cell back into his blanket fort. His hand and wrist were already freezing. “I’m here.”

  “So, what’s up?” she said.

  “What do you mean what’s up? You called me.”

  Lila let out a sharp burst of laughter that sliced through Chuck’s head like a banshee scream. “Very sure I didn’t. I distinctly remember my cell crackling to life in the middle of the night and waking up the two hellions I’d just banished into their sleep of the damned.”

  Chuck winced. “Shit. Sorry. I was a little drunk last night. I don’t remember calling you.”

  “Well, you left a really long, slurred message about friendships and being there for my kids and something about a guy named Steam or Smoke or something equally as ephemeral.”

  Now he was beginning to remember. “He was my Uber driver.”

  “Well that explains everything,” she replied with a sarcastic bite. “What the hell, Chuck? When do you get blitzed?”

  Chuck sighed as the evening’s events came into full clarity. Him standing at the bar and freezing when he spotted his dad in the line next to him. His heart beating out of his chest as he waited to see if his dad would acknowledge him. Then his father’s gaze landing and slipping past Chuck—as if he didn’t know him, let alone that he was fifty percent of the reason Chuck existed at all.

  “I saw my dad last night and he pretended not to see me at all.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah. And I can get drunk when I want to.”

  “Sometimes it’s okay to. But seeing your asshole dad really doesn’t sound like it was the right reason.”

  Chuck popped his head out from under the covers experimentally. It was still freezing, but the cold soothed his raging headache. “It wasn’t.”

  “Let’s not have any more alcohol-fueled rages, okay? I think the Kensington family is about tapped out on that one.”

  Chuck let that settle in. Fuck. Of course, Jesse was the real reason he’d called Lila last night. Lila and he had started talking when she’d called him after Jesse’s arrest in December, and since then they usually talked once a week. Lila had told him that Jesse knew the two of them were speaking, and Jesse didn’t have a problem with it. More and more, though, lately—despite the voice in the back of his head telling him he couldn’t go there again—he wished that it was Jesse on the other end of the line delivering him news instead of Lila.

  “How is he? I heard the jury is still deliberating.”

  “He’s glad the trial is over. Otherwise, he’s no different than the last time we talked. Or the time before that. Why don’t you call him and ask?”

  Chuck closed his eyes and rubbed at his temple. “I’m sorry. I thought you said this was okay—”

  “Yeah, Chuck, it is,” she interrupted, but her voice had gone soft. “I’m just having a bad day. And I’m really fucking tired of dealing with men today. Both the infantile form and my twins.”

  “Witty.”

  “Well, I don’t have my figure anymore. I need something to make up for that.”

  Chuck kicked his legs over the side of the bed, pulled the comforter over his shoulders with his free hand and stood up, heading into the kitchen. “We don’t have to talk about Jesse anymore. It’s definitely skirting the line of using you.”

  “Oh it’s blatantly using me, but I’m okay with that.”

  He had to take her for her word on that. Chuck settled his cell between his ear and his shoulder and got down a glass for water. “Any news on when the verdict could come?”

  “Not yet. Jesse’s attorney thinks that if we don’t hear anything in the next couple days that we could be looking at a hung jury.”

  He froze with the glass partway to his mouth. “Which is good, right?”

  “It is if the prosecution decides not to reinstate the charges and try again. If they do, then both Emily and Jesse would have to go through another trial and round of testimony.”

  Chuck took a deep swig and settled onto a barstool, pulling the comforter tighter around him. “How’s he holding up?”

  “Fine. And I don’t just mean that as in meh, he’s fine or whatever. I really think he’s okay. He’s not drinking as far as I know. At least not with any of the boys. None of them will put up with that anymore.”

  “But he’s still going out?”

  “If you mean to the bar, then no.”

  “He has to be lonely.”

  Lila cleared her throat. “Yeah. About that….”

  Chuck’s stomach dropped, rolling more from the dread—of whether or not he actually wanted to hear what Lila was going to tell him—than his hangover. “I don’t think I want to hear this. Shit. Why do I do this, Lil? Keep asking you about him?”

  “Because you love him. Duh.”

  Chuck didn’t even try to deny that—Lila wouldn’t believe him anyway. “You know, at this point, we’ve actually been broken up longer than we were together.”

  There was a beat of silence from Lila’s end, then, “Huh.”

  “Fun fact,” Chuck deadpanned. He set his glass down and snuggled further into the blanket. “Is it a man or a woman he’s seeing?”

  “Which would be worse?”

  “It would definitely be worse if it was a guy and the boys knew about it.”

  “That would totally suck. Well, one thing going your way today. It’s a woman. Not Rachel if that’s what you’re really wondering.”

  Chuck pinched the bridge of his nose. His head was throbbing even worse. “It had crossed my mind.”

  “Anyway, I think they’ve only gone out once or twice. She’s just another chick.”

  Chuck hiked up the bottom of his blanket, jumped off the barstool and jacked up the temperature on the thermostat. He was going to need sauna levels of heat to get the chill out of his bones. “And Jesse is bi.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” Lila protested. “I meant it’s not serious.”

  “Neither were we.”

  “Right,” Lila scoffed. “Keep telling yourself that.”

  “You’re killing me, you know that? I don’t want to give a shit about him anymore. He’s moved on. I need to, too.”

  “Men!” Lila barked. “Seriously, Chuck? I really don’t have the patience for any of you today. I’m not supposed to tell you this under penalty of Kensington banishment—whatever the fuck that is—but he’s training for the Brighton marathon.”

  Chuck snapped his head up and a wave of dizziness passed over him. He gripped the countertop to keep from keeling over. “He’s what?”

  “You heard me, but you di
dn’t hear it from me. He restarted his training back in January and he’s been keeping it up. The man is cut. Fittest I’ve ever seen him. If I wasn’t already married….”

  “Whoa. Step off, filly.”

  “I thought there wasn’t anything to step on?”

  Lila was way too perceptive. Chuck smirked. “I have to go.”

  “Nu-uh, no you don’t. You don’t get to just dismiss me when you want to. Listen, I’m going to give you some Kensington one-oh-one that all the wives get when they sign on to this wild crew. We’re not as survival of the fittest as it may seem. It takes a lot to be involved with a Kensington boy. All of the Kensington boys married someone who is more successful than them, more driven, more goal-oriented, and more decisive. I love these boys, you know I do, but they are all mama’s boys. They like to be pampered and taken care of, and they’re happy in their bubble. They chose us because we protect that bubble. We’re okay with them staying in this insulated world of theirs.”

  “You’re the guardians.”

  “In a way. Maybe. I think you’re being a bit too kind, though. My point is that these boys look to their partners for direction. You gave Jesse a direction and even though you’re not together he’s still following it. These boys fight change and rail against anyone telling them what to do—except for the people they trust the most. The people they love the most. And for some reason—that I’m not sure Jesse is even aware of—he’s set his mind on a goal that you set for him. Maybe because he doesn’t know what else to do. Or maybe because he hopes it will lead him back to you.”

  “I can’t go there again, Lil.”

  Chuck flinched as soon as those words escaped his mouth. It was the same thing he’d been saying to himself and others for months now. Maybe if he kept repeating it, he’d finally convince himself of it.

  “So why do you keep asking me about him? Don’t be an idiot, Chuck.”

  “I don’t like you very much right now.”

  Lila cackled. “Join the fucking club. If you want to hear lies and platitudes, then call Brittany. I don’t have time for bullshit.”

  “Will you call or text me as soon as you find out about the verdict?”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You know I will. Just take care of yourself too, okay? Don’t be an asshole and drink again when something shitty happens.”

  “Got it.”

  “And let’s do lunch sometime.”

  “Okay.”

  He said goodbye to her and hung up the phone, set it on the counter, then wrapped the comforter tighter and laid his head on the counter.

  “Fuck, even that’s cold. Piss, pizza, and Premier League,” he said to himself.

  It was Sunday, might as well not waste that.

  The jury couldn’t come to a unanimous decision.

  Jesse couldn’t believe it.

  “Really?” Jesse asked his attorney for at least the fifth time in their short conversation.

  “Jesse. Focus. The jury is officially hung, so the judge has decided to declare a mistrial. The prosecutor has already told me he doesn’t intend to refile the charges.”

  “Tell me again what that means.”

  Feltz grumbled. “The prosecutor will never admit it publicly, but he knows the system failed Emily, and that Ian is…not a productive member of society. While they have the choice of taking you to trial again, they’re not going to as long as you continue with counseling for at least a year and remain sober. It’s over. Done. No retrial. No jail.”

  “Really?”

  “I’m hanging up now, Jesse. Congratulations. I’ll be in touch tomorrow about what we need to follow up on to make sure this is all legally finalized and the bond your parents paid up is returned. Give your sister a hug for me.” She clicked off the line before Jesse could even spit out a thank you.

  Jesse stared at the phone, then looked across the room to his sister, curled into a ball in his recliner. “It’s over.”

  Emily jumped off the chair and squealed, jumping into Jesse’s lap, tears running down her face as she kissed his cheeks and forehead then wrapped him in a hug. Jesse cradled her, rocking them both back and forth, not realizing he was sobbing until he felt the wetness on the shoulder of her shirt where his head rested. He let everything go then. He sobbed until his throat was sore and his chest was too tight to breathe deeply anymore. He cried out every last tear he’d been holding for the last two months, maybe longer. No, definitely longer. Years. Sadness he’d held onto for years.

  But the smile on his face remained through the flood of tears.

  The celebration with Emily was short-lived. Like so many other things in his life, he was reconfiguring how he responded to social triggers without drinking. So in lieu of a celebratory drink, Jesse headed out to his weekly therapy appointment—with Emily at his side.

  He felt light for the first time in months, and it wasn’t just because he’d wrung out every last bit of water he likely contained in his body through his tear ducts. And it wasn’t just the mistrial and that he was making progress. Today he had more than hope. It was possible he could achieve everything he’d set out to do two months ago. It was probable that both Emily and he were going to be okay.

  He was grateful—there was no other word for it.

  He’d been given a second chance—or maybe it was a third or fourth chance at this point—and he was going to keep on working to prove to his family and the boys that he deserved their trust and respect.

  For once, he trusted and respected himself.

  “Are you sure you want to do this, Em?”

  His sister tugged at the sleeves of her winter jacket and glanced at him as they walked up the sidewalk. “Not at all. But I need to. I’ve been putting off getting my own therapist for too long. I know you trust her, and if I feel that way too…? I don’t know. We’ll see how this goes.”

  Jesse grabbed her hand and held tight. “One step at a time, right?”

  He pushed through the glass doors leading into his therapist’s office and led Emily up the flight of stairs to the waiting room. It was a private entrance with a separate exit, and Jesse’s therapist worked in an individual practice instead of a group, so, before today, he’d always been alone in this room.

  In his first few appointments, being that solitary had made him jumpy. He’d been here enough times now, and had worked through enough with his therapist, to understand that was because he didn’t like being alone with himself. Now, he welcomed the quiet. He didn’t scroll mindlessly through his phone or page through dog-eared magazines. He sat and thought and was okay. It was such a tiny thing, but another piece of getting all of his shit in line again.

  Emily sat motionless in the chair next to him, staring out the window at clouds whisped into thin vertical lines, slashes of gray against a dulled blue sky. While he’d deflected his internal emotional turmoil through movement, Emily had always been a still person—like a field mouse freezing as a hawk circled above. It was how she’d survived.

  “Hey,” Jesse said. Emily turned toward him, frowning. His heart ached. “I love you.”

  Emily’s white-knuckled grip on her coat eased. “I love you too.”

  The door creaked and Liz Soto, his therapist, emerged from the hallway. “Good afternoon, Jesse. It’s nice to meet you, Emily.”

  “Thank you for letting me sit in on Jesse’s appointment,” Emily said.

  Liz nodded. “Come on back.”

  “In your phone call you said you wanted Emily to come in with you today,” Liz said over her shoulder as they walked. “Are you looking for a family session?”

  “Let’s just do this like you and I usually would.”

  “I’m here more to listen,” Emily added.

  “And I’m okay with her hearing what I have to say.”

  “Okay.” Liz opened the door to her office, welcoming them inside. “I heard about the mistrial.”

  “That was fast.”

  “Your lawyer called me to let me know about the terms of not ref
iling the charges. You’re not obligated to stay on with me, but, since you’re currently under my care, she had to notify me.”

  Jesse took his usual spot in the wingback chair in the corner as Emily settled into an identical chair next to him. “I’d like to continue coming to you, if that’s okay?”

  “Of course it is.” Liz grabbed a folder off her desk and sat down across from them. “Tell me how you’re feeling about a mistrial being declared.”

  “I got lucky.”

  “You think you got lucky,” she said, challenging him with her characteristic ease. He had to smile at that. “How’s everything else?”

  “I’ve been running every morning. Going to AA meetings with my dad. We—Emily, mom, and I—had dinner together this week.”

  “How did that go?”

  Jesse looked to Emily and she smiled softly, shrugging. That dinner had been like the awkwardness of a first date combined with the guarded conversation of too much knowledge, all wrapped in an alcohol-less meal that Emily couldn’t eat most of because their mom didn’t know she was a vegetarian and Jesse had forgotten he knew both these women, but they didn’t know each other at all. In the end, though, Emily had told their mom that she wanted to do it again. Rebuilding a relationship between them all as a family was going to take time. Time that all of them were willing to put in. “It was okay. We’re not rushing anything.”

  “And your job?”

  “I’m still deciding if I’m going to keep it or look for something new. No decision there yet.”

  Liz flipped through a couple of pages in his file and leveled her kind, but professional gaze on him. “It seems like you’re starting to get things in order.”

  “It feels like it.” He hesitated then. They’d been at this for almost two months and he’d told Liz things he’d never thought he’d say out loud. Therapy wasn’t comfortable for him, but it was helping. And he had to believe it was working because he didn’t wait for her to lead him anymore—he actually brought forth the issues he needed to give voice to. “Things are definitely better. I’ve even been on a few dates with someone my mom set me up with. There’s nothing really there, though.”