by Cindy Bokma
A few days later, I sat in my kitchen, reading the newspaper. Most people got their news online but I still preferred an old fashioned paper. It made me remember my father and how he always read the paper and drank his coffee in the mornings.
In bold letters there was a headline that made my heart stop for a second: “Leo Kubias, Time is Running Out.” I scanned the article, looking for my name. Apparently, Leo wasn’t doing better, in fact, the article went on to say he was given only weeks to live. I knocked my coffee mug over with my arm as I turned the page with a shaking hand. Wiping up the mess, I knew I had to take Will back to California to see his father.
There was no other choice. It was cruel and uncaring if I didn’t let him see his dad again. How could I live with myself if Leo died never seeing that his son was all right? I was distracted at work all morning, my thoughts scattered and my nerves on edge. I knocked over a stack of papers, dropped a folder full of receipts and walked into the wall all within ten minutes.
“What’s wrong honey? You seem out of sorts today.” Clem commented, watching me run my fingers through my hair for the hundredth time that day.
“Clem.” I cleared my throat and took a deep breath. “I’ve got something I need to do. Would it be all right if I took a couple of days off next week? I need to . . . visit someone. A relative of mine is sick. I need to let my son see this person before it’s too late,” I explained, hoping I made sense.
Words fell from my lips as I tried to organize my thoughts. What if this was a trap? I wished there was someone I could call, someone to look in on Leo. I couldn’t take that chance. I thought of some of the women I had connected with in the domestic violence groups but I didn’t have any of their phone numbers. Plus, what could they do? I placed a hand over my eyes, feeling a headache coming on.
She nodded. “Is there anything I can do?”
“No, no, thank you.” I sniffled and blew my nose. My hands hadn’t stopped shaking from earlier that morning. When I walked Will to school, I told him we would be taking a trip in a few days. Conflicting feelings crashed together as I contemplated making the trip at all. Would it make things worse for Will? Is this what was best for my son?
“You look pale. Are you sick?” Clem stared at me, her eyes sizing me up as if she could see all of my secrets. I imagined her on the phone to Anne and Midge, talking about me. Gossip traveled fast. It wasn’t mean spirited, but I came to surmise the women thought of themselves as not spreading rumors but rather sharing information.
“I’m fine, fine. Let me get going, I’ll bring these to the printer.” I picked up a bundle of papers that needed to be copied at Sir Prints A Lot. As I was walking to my parked car, I heard someone call out, “Grace!”
I turned to see Vincent, jogging to catch up with me. Nervous, I glanced away, my eyes settling on a car parked under a tree with a canopy of leaves. Slowly I looked up at Vincent as he approached. Why did he have to be so cute? My face reddened.
“Hey. How’re you doing?” His eyes gleamed. “I had a really good time the other night with you and Ethan. What a great kid.”
“Thanks, me too.” A plane passed by overhead and my words were drowned out by the sound.
We did have a good time; in fact, Will couldn’t stop talking about Vincent long after we got home. After dinner we walked around the wharf, the night sky cool and the air salty. We sat on a rickety bench near the water while Will gathered rocks and pebbles. When Vincent leaned in for a kiss, I pulled back, frightened and worried. It was too soon, I wasn’t ready.
Now he leaned against my car, his posture casual and his voice friendly. “I can’t wait to spend time with you guys again. I hope it’s not too forward for me to say that. We’re still on for fishing on Saturday morning, right?” His eyes searched my face and I looked to the ground, digging at a rock with the toe of my shoe.
“Actually . . . I need to go somewhere. We have to make an emergency visit to a sick relative.” I hugged my papers to my chest and glanced up to see Vincent’s face cloud over.
“Is everything all right? Where are you going? When will you be back?” He inclined his head and his worried gaze made me realize that he cared for me. Maybe. How could I tell? I second guessed everything and everyone. The only thing I knew to be true was my love for Will.
“Can I help with anything?”
“No, but thanks. There’s nothing you can do. We’ll only be gone a couple of days . . .” I planned on seeing Leo, then leaving the next day. I didn’t know for certain what was going to happen, I was panicky and filled with dread. I could choose to not go, I wished I could ignore the fact Leo was dying. But something tugged at me like a loose thread and I couldn’t allow Will to grow up not knowing his father. Not seeing him one last time. I wished I had the chance to see my parents before they died.
Vincent reached over and pushed a tendril of hair away from my cheek. I wanted to sink into the ground then and there. His rough hand brushed against my face and the blood pulsated through my body in a rush of emotion. His black eyes swept over my face and body.
“Come for dinner tonight?”
“I don’t think so . . .”
“Why? Do you have plans?”
When I hesitated to answer, his ruggedly handsome face twisted in concern. “Grace, I was hurt badly once before, I get it. Can we take this super slow, start out as friends?”
I bit my lip and swallowed, my brain trying to connect the truth with what I could admit. I couldn’t very well tell him about Leo.
“Vincent, I like you. But things are a little complicated right now.” I paused. “I need to have closure with some things. I’m going to do that and then I’ll be free for a more . . .” I couldn’t find the right words. “I’ll be able to be a better friend.”
A smile spread across his face. “You can still have dinner with me tonight though.”
“You’re relentless.”
He shrugged his denim clad shoulders. The sleeves on his work shirt were rolled up and I noticed his strong forearms. The collar of his shirt was unbuttoned and I imagined kissing his neck . . . I knew he smelled of soap and laundry detergent.
Stop! How could I think about kissing him? I put a hand to my forehead.
“Okay. Okay. Geez, you’re persistent.” I giggled but on the inside I was terrified.
Chapter 20
Present
The airplane was full; flight attendants prepared the cabin for takeoff, closing overhead compartments. As I leaned my head back on the seat, I thought of the night before. Vincent had cooked us a lovely dinner at his home. Will was thrilled to look at all the books of fish and insects that lined the handmade bookshelves of Vincent’s small house. His home was cluttered and homey, lots of books and colorful quilts, woodwork, and everything that Leo disliked was what filled Vincent’s place. I actually let out a laugh when I walked in through the heavy pine door.
“What? I know it’s messy. I tried to clean up,” Vincent said sheepishly as he watched me take in the surroundings.
Open beamed ceilings and large windows, a wooden staircase, and various bookshelves welcomed us. A roaring stone fireplace gave off light and heat. It was comfortably messy and I was instantly at home.
“No, it’s lovely. Who painted these?” I strolled over to get a closer look at three small paintings hanging in a group, beautiful artwork of the local landscape.
He blushed. “I did.”
“These are amazing.”
He turned away, embarrassed, but I saw his slight smile.
I must have replayed the evening in my head a thousand times.
Now next to me, Will shifted in his seat and turned the pages of his book. Once our seatbelts were securely fastened, he put his headphones on and listened to music. I closed my eyes and remembered the kiss Vincent and I shared. His rough hand tangled in my hair as his body pressed against mine. My mind raced with nerves, fear, and passion. Will was upstairs in the loft watching a show on Animal Planet while Vincent and I sa
t in front of the blazing fireplace. We were talking one minute and the next . . .
I sighed, thinking of his black hair and dark eyes brightened by the flames of the fire. Shadows danced across his features as he spoke and I knew I could fall in love with him. I didn’t want to get involved with someone, not now, but I couldn’t help the connection I had to this man. It was sudden and unexpected.
Anxiety washed over me as I thought about getting close to him, but I reminded myself that Vincent would not turn out to be Leo Kubias with his quick temper and unpredictable rages. I’d take things slow, see how the relationship progressed. Will would always be my main concern. He came first.
Closing my eyes, I imagined not locking my doors and checking two or three times that they were indeed secure. Someday, I would stop looking over my shoulder, I’d stop flinching at noises, and I’d stop worrying if Will wasn’t in my direct line of sight.
Being with Vincent was safe, comforting, like being in a warm room on a cold night. But I could not help the thought that plagued me despite the attraction to Vincent, what if I was wrong?
I rented a compact car for our short stay in Los Angeles. I had forgotten about the heavy air in California and was surprised by the dense, brown smog. I quickly grew used to the clean air of the east coast, the smell of salt water and fish, of pastries and flowers coming from the small shops on the pier. By comparison, Los Angeles was dirty and cluttered, smoggy and full of buzzing activity. After twenty minutes, I was ready to re-board the plane and get back to my own home.
“Are we really going to see dad?” Will asked, bringing me back from my daydream. “Why did he never come visit? Does he want to see us? Are we staying here? I want to go back.” He squinted into the distance. “I don’t like it here anymore.”
“We aren’t staying,” I said. “Dad’s really sick. I don’t even know what to expect. It’s important that you see him before...” I let the words trail off and Will lifted his shoulder. Our eyes met in the review mirror and I turned to give his knee a squeeze. “I love you buddy.”
“I know. I love you, too, mom.” He gazed out the window. His eyelids drooped and I knew he’d probably fall asleep before we reached Leo. Flying across the country was exhausting, especially for a child. My bones ached and a pain above my eye throbbed. My stomach growled. I didn’t want to be here and fear cursed throughout my body. I wished I could steady my erratic heartbeat.
I started the car and instructed Will to fasten his seatbelt. We turned onto the bustling street full of honking horns and angry drivers. At once I could feel stress inching up my body as I maneuvered the car through the chaotic road.
Before I bought the airline tickets, I did some research on Leo. Every source I consulted detailed the same story; he was dying, there was no doubt about it. An aggressive cancer was attacking his body and he didn’t have long to live. I came across a haunting photo of him, his once angular, striking face looking shrunken and hollowed. I shuddered. That was not the man I had been married to. He retired from the film industry, too weak to work. According to what I read, he spent time between the hospital and his house.
I wondered about the possibility of him constructing a web of lies to entice me to come back to California. I would not put it past him. There were times he’d hired various maids or assistants to “keep an eye on me” and report my whereabouts to him.
Unfortunately for Leo I never did anything interesting and I think he either learned to trust me or kept tabs on my whereabouts through my cell phone. There were times I left my phone at home and kept a burner phone for emergencies. But I was a homebody and liked to be home, gardening or reading. I loved to knit. My activities were boring and predictable.
I drove along the once familiar roads, fear knotted in my muscles. I didn’t know how he would react to me standing at his door with Will after so long. I knew he would be angry, furious with me for what I had done. I silently said a prayer that this was the right thing for me to do. He wasn’t strong enough to physically attack me. He could have bodyguards, people there that could take Will from me. Lawyers waiting to drop a lawsuit on me, police ready to arrest me. I was taking a huge chance. For Will. He had to see his father, I couldn’t bear the guilt if Leo died and Will never got to say goodbye. My mind churned with worst case scenarios as my stomach clenched and burned.
“Mom! Stop sign!” Will cried from the backseat. I thought he had fallen asleep.
“Sorry,” I muttered, gripping the steering wheel as my foot pressed the brake pedal, jamming it to the floor. I sat back and blew air out of my lips as the car stopped short and my head jolted back. “You okay back there?”
“Yeah.” Will craned his neck to see out the front window.
The car in front of me had suddenly stopped. I could see a cell phone in the driver’s hand. My hands shook, not from the sudden stop but with anxiety over seeing Leo. It was a real possibility that I’d be arrested. I kidnapped my son to keep him safe but I doubted the law would see it that way. Eventually, they might understand with his history of hurting me and the secret photos I kept hidden but how long would that take?
“Are we there yet?”
“In a few minutes, honey.” I angled the rear-view mirror so I could look at my reflection. My hair was full of waves. As usual, I wore very little makeup, mascara and lip gloss was all. My skin was flushed, my eyes clear. Leo would probably tell me I was fat, ugly, and incompetent. Was I up for the insults? So many things could happen.
A horn honked from behind me prompting me to fix the mirror and gas the car sending us into a fleet traffic. Even though I was petrified, I had to do this. With a deep breath and a prayer, I pointed the car in the direction of Beverly Hills.
It took me a good forty minutes before I could get out of the car. I sat in the driver’s seat, too paralyzed to walk up to the massive door and ring the bell. Who would answer? Will fell asleep in the backseat; his little head uncomfortably slumped over in a deep and uninterruptible nap. I bit my nails as I hunched over, watching the yard. The verdant, velvety lawn was well-kept; the house hadn’t changed at all since I was last here, nearly eleven months ago.
With an ache in my chest, my heart pounding like a stampede, I willed myself to make the long hike up the driveway. I gave myself a pep talk as I played with the ends of my hair, twisting it around my finger again and again.
Finally, Will woke up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. I turned around and asked, “Ready, buddy?” He nodded. I got out of the car with wooden legs as if I was going to my execution. I might as well have been.
“You don’t have to see Dad if you don’t want to,” I whispered, grabbing his arm and pulling him to me. I wanted him to ask to turn around. To say no, he didn’t want to see Leo.
“No, it’s okay.” He squeezed my hand. “Will he be nice to us?”
“Yes of course. Remember I told you he’s very sick?” I tried to warn Will what Leo would look like. He wasn’t the same man physically. I explained what cancer was and how he was very ill. I told him it was important to see his father one last time.
“Yeah, you said he was really sick.” Will nodded.
“It’s just that . . . well, it’s up to you. We don’t have to . . .”
“Mom, it’s okay.” Will made a face, reminding me of his father, crinkling his nose.
We walked hand in hand to the front door where I pushed the stainless steel button and listened for the chime of the doorbell. We waited a minute and then Will suggested we just open the door and go in.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I frowned. Static in my head grew louder as the blood cursed through my veins. I swallowed hard. Maybe no one was home. This was a dumb idea. We should leave. I fidgeted with the buttons of my jacket.
“Why? We used to live here,” Will said. Before I could stop him, he reached out and turned the handle of the door. I froze, anticipating the blaring shriek of the alarm.
He pushed open the door, slowly entering into the blindingly
white interior. I forgot how almost clinical and meticulous the atmosphere was, with the sleek and modern furniture and stainless steel accents. Memories and feelings flooded my body.
I planted myself in the doorway, not wanting to move further.
“I’m going to see my old room.” Will called, bounding up the sleek stairs with his footsteps reverberating on each step.
“No, Will, you shouldn’t.” I called after him, my voice fading but he was too quick and was gone before I could stop him.
I noted the wing-shaped aluminum wall lamps, the polished chrome and the double sandblasted glass doors leading into the sunroom. The sound of the metal clock was the only noise in the otherwise soundless sanctuary.
My heart thrumming in my chest, I was torn between standing in the doorway and moving inside. Gently, I closed the door behind me then tip-toed into the kitchen, looking out through the large windows at the backyard. The elaborate Japanese koi pond, the cherished architectural landmark of the estate, glimmered in the sun as the orange fish swam in circles. I saw the huge bubbling fountain from where I stood and I knew the gardener was well-paid for the upkeep of the tropical, vibrant imported plants that surrounded the statue of Buddha. The towering trees provided privacy and I recalled many nights spent sitting on the teak deck, under the leafy palms. But that was a lifetime ago. I didn’t want to return to the splendor of a multimillion-dollar home with every imaginable accoutrement at my fingertips. The price was too high.
I heard the clink of hard candy against her teeth before I heard her speak. The click click of high heels on the marble floor made me whirl around, coming face to Botoxed face with none other than Claire.
The skin on her face was whiter, smoother, and pulled tight. Her lips were filled with a dose or two of collagen; and her eyes had the look of perpetual surprise. Though she looked slightly different, there was no doubt: this was my supervisor from Dr. Thurman’s, the woman who insisted I pay for her five course lunches, the only friend I had for a long time.