by Faye Byrd
I steer clear of Rapture and that side of town in general for the next few days. Instead, I take a long overdue trip northward and talk to someone I haven’t had the courage to face since she was buried. For the first time, I can think of her without spiraling into a dark place. So it’s about time I fucking face her.
Tears roll down my cheeks as I sit on the cold ground beside the long concrete slab. Her headstone is whimsical and girly, a lot like her, but it belies a truth I can no longer deny. Katherine was sick, and I was a selfish shit who was incapable of recognizing it.
I pour my heart out, bawling as I do, apologizing over and over for what happened then and for what I’ve turned into now. She’d hate it. I’m the antithesis of everything we were—loving and happy and faithful, with plans for a successful, family-filled future.
“I’m so sorry, Kat,” I whisper, tracing the letters in her name. “I see it now, though, and I’m going to try to do better.” I stand and kiss my fingertips, pressing them to the top her of headstone. “I miss you.”
That visit wrecks and rehabilitates me at the same time. It’s painful as fuck yet cathartic, both long past due and way too soon. Not enough and too much. It doesn’t send me spiraling, though. On the contrary, it reminds me of what’s important.
Two days later, I’m back in town and at the soup kitchen, my visit with Katherine still haunting me. A whistle interrupts my thoughts, and as I look around, I feel guilty as fuck. “Sorry, Henry,” I say to the old man as I take his bowl to fill with grits. “I got lost in my head.”
“No problem,” he says, waving a hand that’s covered in a tattered glove. “I actually haven’t seen you look this way in quite some time.”
My brows furrow, and I return his filled bowl. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Don’t play coy with me, boy.” His voice is gruff, matter-of-fact. “You look like you’d rather be off with a lady friend instead of standing here, high as a kite, serving breakfast to a bunch of old farts like me.”
I chuckle. “I’m nowhere near high as a kite.”
“I know, and that’s my point.” He grabs a piece of toast from the station beside me as I take the bowl from the next person. “You usually are.”
“Shit,” I curse under my breath. “Don’t bust my chops, old man. I’m trying to be better.”
“You look better, that’s for damn sure,” Henry replies, nodding toward the door. “Go on and get out of here. We’ll see ya next week.”
I finish up the current line, which is only four or five more people, before making my way out of the building. Life these days isn’t quite as bad as it used to be, and apparently it shows if old Henry recognizes it.
The trip to Rapture is quick, and I catch Niko just as he’s opening the doors. This is early for me, but it’s just as well. A lunchtime visit with the doc always makes for a better day, and I’m feeling pretty fucking refreshed as it is.
I head straight for the alley and whip out a Marlboro, anxious to see her. We haven’t spoken, aside from a few errant texts assuring her I was fine, in over a week. Not since the blowjob, the one that still makes me dizzy when I try to wrap my head around it.
The smoke fills my lungs as I inhale, and the nicotine floods my system, creating a false sense of calm. Because I’m not. I’m a nervous fucking wreck, not knowing what side of the doc to expect after the stunt we engaged in last week. My resistance is shaky at best, and I’m not sure how much more I can take. It’d be the worst mistake of my life.
Right?
Of course it would. I’m a good-for-nothing whore who hides as far from the real world as he can. While she thrives there, being all responsible and selfless and shit. I’m the dirt on the bottom of her sneakers, the scum from her shower walls, and the complete opposite of everything she stands for.
Yet for all that, my heart still skips a beat when she steps out from behind that damn red door in bright pink scrubs and her hair piled on top of her head. Feeling like a little kid caught stealing, I hurriedly toss my smoke to the ground and grind it into the concrete, obliterating it with the heel of my boot.
“Doc,” I acknowledge, pretending I’m cool, calm, and collected. “It’s been a minute.” Shit! Don’t remind her. Abort! Abort! “I mean, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and lift my eyes to the sky, wishing something would vaporize me in my spot.
“Good to see you too, Rush.” She giggles—fucking giggles—and that’s when I know everything’s going to be okay. Friend-doc to the rescue. “I’ve been worried about you.”
The softness of her voice draws my gaze. “I’m good.” I take a deep breath and release it. “Better than I’ve been in years, actually.”
“Oh?” She positions herself beside me, leaned against the brick, mimicking my pose. “Care to talk about it?”
My eyes fall closed. I was so worried about which doc I was going to get I never considered what friend-doc might try to drag out of me. And yet, I’m not freaked in the least. Maybe it’s time I put our friendship to the ultimate test.
“I think I am.” My voice is soft, and I release the words on a whoosh of air, all my tension dissipating. “I’d like to try, at least.”
“Okay,” she says carefully. “You want to just talk, or do you want me to ask questions?”
I turn, propping my shoulder against the brick so I can see her pretty face. “Ask away.”
Changing positions is definitely worth it because I get the full effect of her inquisitive eyes as she whips her head in my direction. She’s just so fucking real, authentic to her core. “Are you sure? What changed?”
“I’m not sure, really, but it’s welcome so I wouldn’t worry about it.” I smirk as she again mimics my position, turning her body to face me. “I almost feel normal, and that’s been missing for a long fucking time.”
She tugs her lip between her teeth, gnawing it. “Since Katherine died?”
I blow out a gust of air, not expecting her to cut so deep so quickly. “Damn, you went straight for the gut.” I chuckle it off, probably unconvincingly, and reach over, tugging her lip from between her teeth and brushing my thumb over the indentions. “Stop that. You’ll make your lip sore.”
“Is she off limits?” Her tongue snakes out, and I wrench my eyes away.
“No,” I respond, unable to sound as firm as I’d like. “She’s everything I need to talk about.”
“Explain to me why you blame yourself,” she demands, and I snap my eyes to her ready-to-rebut expression. “Tell me how you can be responsible for someone else’s decision to end their life?”
“Oh, doc.” I palm her jaw. “It’s not all my fault, but if I’d been a better boyfriend, she’d still be here.”
“Tell me,” she says firmly, leaning away from my touch. “Make me believe that.”
“We got together our first year in Yale.” I turn away, back to facing the alley so I don’t have to watch the disappointment spread across her expectant face. “We hit it off right away—the golden boy and the pretty girl from his economics class.”
I kick an errant rock, feeling resentment toward that snobby college freshman and the family who reared him that way. “She was there on scholarship, and it took our first real argument for me to grasp the differences between her life and mine. To me, it didn’t matter, though. She was my girlfriend, and I was pretty serious about her from the start. I always paid, and if she asked for anything, I got it. She was seriously self-conscious about it, always anxious and second-guessing, which led to our second argument.”
I smirk then, remembering the make-up sex after that one. “During that argument, I finally was able to convince her that we were a team. The same way she helped me study for tests, I could help her with anything else. She finally accepted that, and things evened out between us. She still obsessed over her grades, more than I thought was called for, but I chalked it up to her scholarship worries. Until …” I trail off, anger robbing me of words.
�
�Hey … you don’t have to do this,” the doc says, breaking into my story. “It doesn’t matter. Not to me. Not if it’s going to hurt you.”
“I introduced her to my parents,” I finally say through clenched teeth. “My mother sniffed out our inequality instantly.”
She reaches over and grips my arm to remind me she’s here, and it means the fucking world. I just hope she doesn’t hate me when this is all out in the open. My voice cracks and tears burn the back of my eyes as I fill her in on everything, trying to paint as clear of a picture as I can.
My parents are fucking snobs who expect nothing less than perfection, and Katherine was incapable of taking the kind of scrutiny and constant badgering they heaped on her. She shouldn’t have had to take it at all, but I was so used it by that point that I never realized how it would affect someone who didn't grow up that way. When she’d bring it up to me, I’d tell her that’s how they treated everyone. Never once did I realize how serious it was for her. She’d ask me to intervene, and I’d just brush it off as her being dramatic.
I proposed the summer before we started grad school, and she said yes. For me, life was shaping up like I’d always expected, only I never imagined I’d find my wife so easily. Our plan for the future was solid and so was our relationship.
“That final year …” I pause, squeezing my eyes closed. “I was sick of being put in the middle, so I told Kat she needed to deal with my mother on her own. After all, she’d be her mother-in-law come the summer.”
The doc swivels around in front of me. “This isn’t necessary, Rush.”
I wave her off, looking anywhere but at her. “She ended up going to a local clinic, and they prescribed her Klonopin. It was only for when she got really stressed, and as far as I knew, she’d only taken it a handful of times. I could always tell because it put her on her ass.”
My voice softens, remembering the last night. “The spring before we were supposed to graduate with our masters degrees, wedding planning was in full swing, and we were even house shopping on the internet. I came in from classes one day and found Katherine distraught. She was a blubbering mess. I thought something horrible had happened. It turned out to be an argument with my mother over stupid fucking napkins. I soothed her tears, but I also reminded her that I wasn’t going to be put in the middle of their senseless squabbles.”
My stomach revolts and I grab it, turning away from the doc as I empty the scant contents. Her soft touch on my back keeps me tethered to the present while the past flashes through my mind like a horror movie.
Her ghostly white skin and the foam around her mouth.
Calling 911.
Begging for her to come back as I performed useless CPR.
The note.
I wipe my mouth and choke back a sob, shrugging off the doc’s touch so I can get through this. “I held her until she stopped crying, and I thought everything was okay. I suggested she take a Klonopin and a nap, since I was still working on my thesis. I kissed her and promised I’d bring home dinner.” I bring my tear-filled gaze to hers. “She purposely OD’d while I was gone.”
“I’m sorry.” Her voice is soft, and silent tears are streaming down her cheeks. “But I don’t think it’s your fault.”
“How can you say that?” I demand, astonished. “I ignored her at every turn. I let my parents bully her for our entire relationship. They definitely have a part to play, but this is almost entirely on me.”
“Rush,” she says, wiping her own cheeks before reaching up to wipe mine as she grasps them between her palms. “Katherine needed help that you weren’t capable of giving. Even if you’d intervened with your mother, it would’ve eventually been something else.”
I breathe deeply through my nose, trying to keep my temper in check. “You know nothing about her.” I pull away and take two steps toward the door to Rapture before pausing and turning to her. “You know nothing about me, either.”
I’m angry at Katherine, my parents, the doc, myself, and the whole fucking world. I walk through Rapture and out to my Hog, tearing from the lot and racing through the streets, begging for trouble, but it doesn’t find me when I want it most. All it does is leave me plenty of time to replay her words over and over.
Maybe she has a point.
And maybe it’s none of her fucking business.
The next week goes exactly like this. I’m torn and confused and still partly angry, but the one thing I’m not is drowning in darkness, and I consider that a fucking plus. I don’t ignore her texts completely, but I do brush her off with the “It’s not you; it’s me” excuse. I wait until Saturday before I finally return to Rapture, making sure I won’t have to see her.
Picking up the first decent-looking rando who’s willing, I wink at Niko on my way to the alley. He’s been riding my ass all day, saying I’m acting different. No, I’m back to my un-doc-ified self.
Fucking normal, I’d say.
“Come on, baby,” I murmur, licking the lobe of her ear. “Put those pretty lips around my cock.” She hums, and it doesn’t do a goddamn thing for me. I growl, pushing on her shoulders.
As rando sinks to her knees, my eyes find the building across the alley, and more specifically, the door that’s cloaked in late-night darkness. Slamming my eyes closed, I will myself to bring back the feeling from the last time I was here like this. I will myself to remember her eyes. I will myself to recapture that magic.
But I can’t.
She’s not here.
“Get up.” I tug rando’s hair, starting to freak out. “Get away from me!”
She stumbles to her feet, her eyes blazing. “Don’t touch me, you fucking dick!”
“I’m sorry,” I say, less freaked now that she’s no longer on her knees. “I can’t do this, and I apologize for misleading you.”
She rears back and slaps me, and then she’s gone just as quickly, her high heels clicking against the concrete in an angry staccato. The blistering sting is a welcome sensation, and I know, without a doubt, this type of bullshit is in the past.
From now on, I’m only looking to the future.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Sublime
ALYSSA
Four jarring bangs echo through the building, causing the rabbit on my table to become skittish. I grab it tightly and smile to Mr. Johnson. “Can you hold him please? I think the delivery man is at the back door.” I roll my eyes. “I’ve told them a dozen times.”
“No problem, Dr. Cole.” He takes his great granddaughter’s rabbit and stuffs it back into its cage. “Do you need me to set them straight?”
“I might.” I chuckle at the seventy-two-year-old man, who’s about three inches shorter than me. “I’ll yell if I need ya.”
My smile falls as I enter the back hallway, my stomach clenching in anticipation. Only one person has the nerve to bang this hard on my clinic’s back door—and it isn’t the delivery man. We’ve only traded a handful of stilted texts since he shared his story and stormed off in anger, and that was well over a week ago.
Just as I reach for the handle, another bang scares the crap out of me, and his face smashes against the glass. The sight of his flat nose is enough to quash the nerves and send me into a fit of giggles as I turn the handle and push open the door.
“Can I help you, sir?” I say in jest.
Unfazed and unwilling to play along, Rush bombards me, pushing his way through the door and pulling me tightly against his chest. I’m resistant at first, shocked, but my body recognizes his and complies within seconds. His heart is thundering against his ribcage as he takes several slow, deep breaths. His clean, manly scent and strong arms wrap me in comfort, and I don’t even care why. I feel, right now, like I’ve never felt before.
Whole.
“I’m so fucking sorry, doc,” he whispers, rocking me side to side. “I’m not mad at you, and it was shitty of me to run off like that.”
“It’s okay, Rush,” I reply, wiggling my trapped arms free so I can put them around his bac
k. “I knew you just needed time. That was a big step for you.”
“It’s not an excuse,” he asserts, drawing back to make eye contact. “No one should ever treat you that way, least of all me.”
“You’re right,” I concede with a nod. “But I’m going to let it slide just this once.”
“You’re too good.” He brushes my cheek. “Can I come in?”
My brows slump to the center of my forehead. “In?” I look around to make sure we’re still standing in the back hallway of the clinic. “We’re already in.” I gesture around me.
“We need to talk,” he says, moving past me. “I can sit in the waiting room until you’re free.”
“Um, sure.” I’m caught off guard as I step over and lower the latch on the back door before turning back. “Follow me.” I lead him to my office instead, pausing and waving a hand toward my desk. “Why don’t you wait here?” I glance at the clock on the wall. “I have three more patients to see today.”
“This is perfect.” He smirks. His larger than life frame steps into my small space, his eyes trying to take in every inch at once. “I just might learn a thing or two in here.”
Crap! Now I’m searching the room, shifting my gaze past pictures and vet magazines and scattered patient files. My shoulders slump in relief when nothing jumps out as overly interesting or risqué.
“I think you’ll learn that I’m messy and possibly a work-a-holic.” I lean against the door jamb as he settles into my chair.
“Yep.” He nods, fiddling with a trinket on my desk. “That’s possible, but a good friend never lets their friends work too much.” He lifts his head and pins me with sincere eyes. “And I’m going to be a better friend from now on. The best friend.”
A swell of emotion lodges itself in my throat, making a reply nearly impossible. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I say quickly and turn to leave before he can stop me.
My feet can’t move fast enough. I swallow my emotion and hurry back to Mr. Johnson and his rabbit. Pretending to be a perky pet physician when you want to curl into a ball and cry is hard, and I suck at it. Mr. Johnson thankfully doesn’t push when I finish the exam and rush them up front to pay Elle.