Love on the Outskirts of Town

by Zoe York

  “What did we fucking miss?”

  “Nothing. It was just one of those things.”

  It hadn’t been the answer he’d been looking for. He’d wanted to know what he could have done differently. And then the phone rang and his world upended because on the other side of the globe, another one of those things had happened to his flesh and blood.

  He couldn’t breathe.

  “Matt?”

  He shook his head. “Sorry.”

  “Jesus, don’t be sorry. Tell me more about that drive to Toronto.”

  Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked at his brother across the table. Sean was leaning in, his face earnest.

  “I read a book today,” Matt blurted out. “Well, part of a book. About depression. About not dealing well with trauma.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I lost a patient that day. He died about a minute before Jake called me. An old army guy, really stubborn son-of-a-bitch who smoked too much and didn’t take care of himself. Fred. Fucking good guy. We would transport him regularly, and it felt like just a regular call. We got him to the ER no problem, handed him over, and before we’d left the hospital, he had a sudden heart attack. Bam, gone. They worked on him, crash cart, the whole thing, but…”

  “The same day?”

  “Same fucking moment pretty much. I watched him die. And then Jake called.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s some brutal double dose of trauma.”

  “I think it may have been the straw that broke the camel’s back in a way. I didn’t know, but Owen knew. He saw that I was spiralling into a mess, and I had no clue.” Suddenly thirsty, Matt grabbed his glass and took a long drink.

  “What are you going to do now?”

  “I don’t know. Keep reading this book I guess. I’ve got a few days off work. Owen wants me to talk about this stuff. With you, with him. Fuck, I guess I’ll have to have a deep and meaningful chat with Dad.” Eventually. He wasn’t in any hurry to negotiate the frustration that would be.

  “I did that. It was good. I was angry at him for a long time, but now I just think…it is what it is. I can’t change my childhood. And what I would change isn’t about him. I wish I’d known Mom. That’s what I would change.”

  “I remember her a little. She had the gentlest smile. I remember you sleeping with her in her hospital bed.”

  Sean gave him a sad smile. “Yeah? That’s…Shit, I wish I could remember that.”

  They sat together silently for a few minutes. Matt picked at his food, but he still wasn’t hungry. Finally he packed it away and pulled out the pie. Maybe dessert would go down better. “Have you thought about counselling?”

  Sean’s answer surprised him. “Every day. I did a bit in the hospital before I came home, but it wasn’t the right time.”

  “Why haven’t you done any since?”

  “It’s hard to find the right fit up here. Because everyone knows everyone else. Because—a lot of excuses, to be honest. But we’re going to do a couples retreat for military members and their spouses when we’re in Florida next month.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Jenna’s idea, to be honest. She basically said, if I want to have babies, she wants to do some processing of stuff first so we’re going into that with as clean a slate as possible.”

  “Smart woman.”

  “The smartest. I tell myself every day that I don’t deserve her.”

  “I know the feeling.” Matt stretched his arms wide. “You want kids, huh?”

  “Life is short, man.”

  “I know.”

  “You ready to talk about Natasha?”

  He wasn’t sure. “Is everyone talking about her behind my back?”

  “Shit no. Everyone’s talking about you. Jake’s been really clear that we can rip on you as much as we want, but she’s off-limits because you care about her.”

  “I do care for her. So damn much—which would be sweeter if I hadn’t hurt her this morning.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I barked at her. I told her I didn’t want to talk.”

  “Well that was stupid.” Sean shrugged when Matt frowned. “What? It is. Don’t do that again.”

  “I need to get my head screwed on straight first.”

  “Before what?”

  “Before…” He wasn’t sure. “Before I ask her to forgive me?”

  “For a fight? Dude, that’s not how any of this works. You gotta talk to her. Sooner than later. Tell her everything you told me.”

  “Honestly, I don’t know why I didn’t this morning. She asked. And I pushed back.”

  “Yeah, you should figure out why you did that. But even if you don’t, you could tell her that you know it’s an issue.”

  No, he couldn’t do that. “The last thing Natasha needs is for me to be any kind of burden on her.”

  His brother shrugged. “I think you may be wrong there, but I don’t know her. I’d like to, though. Why don’t you find a way to make this right so I can invite her and her daughter over for dinner?”

  “I’ll get right on that.” And he would. Not just for the dinner invite path-smoothing, though.

  It had only been a day. A very long, emotional day. And he missed Natasha and Emily something fierce.

  But he couldn’t go back to her half-cocked. He had to know that he’d be able to do what Sean said, and really open up to her.

  Because if he froze a second time, he wouldn’t deserve another chance to make it right.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It turned out that rage—white-hot, are-you-fucking-kidding-me outrage—was the perfect fuel for Natasha to go job hunting.

  She wasn’t even sure what she was raging at, or about, but she knew she was pissed. And it felt good.

  Matt ghosting on her was a big part of it. She knew something had happened, and he’d apologized for snapping, although she wasn’t sure a simple sorry was enough. She didn’t need drama like that in her life, no matter how good his arms felt around her.

  But the vague worry she’d been chewing on about David’s renewed involvement in Emily’s life started to coalesce and sharpen, too. So she added another item to her to-do list on the wall.

  * * *

  Hire a lawyer

  * * *

  That would take a lot of money, no matter how she sliced it. But for three years, she’d been parenting solo, without any worry about custody issues. Now she had to face her growing concern that that might not always be the case.

  Emily was her heart and soul. Of course she wanted her daughter to have a relationship with her father, but David had bailed when she was pregnant, and he’d established their default custody arrangement—it hadn’t been her idea for her to do this all on her own.

  He didn’t get to radically change things now. Adjust, sure. But upend her daughter’s life? Nope.

  Mama Bear wouldn’t let that happen.

  So she needed to get a job, and she needed to get the apartments done, and being pissed off at the men in her life drove her out of the house and into action on both of those fronts.

  They went to the thrift shop first, because retail therapy was always a good way to start the day. Most of the women’s clothes were the same as the last time they’d popped in, but there was a fresh supply of children’s stuff that was fun to pick through. She found a Christmas outfit for Emily to wear to David’s. She didn’t miss the irony of that being something she cared about.

  But it was a really cute outfit.

  Then they drove in a big loop, dropping resumes at all the bars and restaurants within twenty minutes.

  Next on her to-do list was sourcing kitchenette materials.

  “Let’s go to the lumber store,” she told Emily. “And we’ll pick up hot chocolate on the way.”

  “Yay!” Emily cheered, waving her hands in the air.

  Yes. Yay. She needed to take life lessons from her kid. Hot chocolate made everything better.

&
nbsp; At the lumber yard, she introduced herself to the woman at the back counter, where custom orders were placed. They went over her detailed notes and she got a quote that was probably fair but just out of her budget. When she balked, the staff person gave her a heads up that they had a pre-Christmas sale starting on the weekend.

  “Might want to think about stocking up then, it’s usually our best sale of the year.”

  “Good to know, thanks.” Tasha scribbled a reminder to herself on the top sheet of her notebook, then shoved her clipboard back into her tote bag. “I’ll probably be back then.”

  If she could afford it.

  Back at home, she worked over the numbers once more.

  She couldn’t really afford to hire a lawyer before she picked up another job. But she couldn’t afford to wait, either. Same with the kitchenette purchases.

  At some point, she’d have to dip into her savings in a big way to get all the balls moving.

  But there was no such thing as reward without risk, so the last thing she did before calling the day done was she made a short list of family lawyers to call and feel out for compatibility. If David caused her any trouble, she’d need an ally in her corner who she could trust.

  The next day she got her period, which explained some of the don’t-fucking-dare attitude from the day before. Well, not being pregnant was a good thing. She would never again curse her cycle.

  And then after breakfast, she got a phone call from a number she didn’t recognize. “Hello?”

  “Is this Natasha Kinglsey?”

  “It is.”

  “This is Raj Patel from Wiarton Lumber. You dropped off your resume yesterday, and I’d like to schedule an interview for the cashier position.”

  “I didn’t—” She cut herself off. Had she accidentally left a resume on the counter at the lumber store the day before? “I didn’t realize it was a cashier position,” she said somewhat clumsily. “How many hours a week is it?”

  “Fifteen hours to start. Midday coverage, when we take lunch breaks and there’s a rush at noon.”

  She quickly did the math. No tips and likely minimum wage meant that fifteen hours a week wasn’t that much money. On the other hand, she’d probably be able to find part-time childcare midday at a more reasonable rate than evening or weekend care, which would probably make up the difference. She swallowed hard. “Is there an employee discount?”

  He chuckled. “Doing some home renovation?”

  “Something like that.”

  “That could be arranged. Would you be available to come in for an interview tomorrow?”

  She closed her eyes and exhaled softly. “Yes, I would.”

  So that was two good things, and it wasn’t even breakfast yet.

  Letting herself be pissed was paying off.

  By the fourth day of no work and no Natasha, Matt was ready to sacrifice himself on the altar of emotional availability.

  He told Owen as much in a text, and his boss replied with a laughing animated GIF image.

  Matt: I’m serious.

  Owen: I believe you.

  Matt: Let me come back to work.

  Owen: Take a knee, man.

  Matt: You’re killing me.

  Owen: Meet me at Mac’s for lunch.

  Apparently the altar of emotional availability was the diner on the edge of town. Matt found Owen in a corner booth, nursing a cup of coffee and a slice of pie.

  “Did you eat already?”

  Owen shook his head. “This was an appetizer. Pre-lunch sugar therapy. My ex is going south for a week over the holidays and my daughter wants to have a party at her house while she’s away. My head is going to explode because it’s not my call but it’s a really bad idea.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah. Well, what can you do?”

  “Set up surveillance from a distance?”

  Owen cracked a ghost of a smile. “Don’t think that thought hasn’t crossed my mind.”

  “Parenting is complicated shit, isn’t it?”

  “Hardest thing I’ve ever done. Seventeen years go by in the blink of an eye, man.”

  “Seventeen?”

  “Her birthday’s in January.”

  Matt tried to picture Emily as a teenager. Fourteen years from now, would Natasha be worried about the same thing? Emily having parties at David’s cottage while he’s not there? “Shit. Time flies.”

  “Don’t remind me. A year from now she’s going to be an adult and I am not prepared for that. Anyway, let’s order and talk about you.”

  “I read the book.”

  “Good.”

  “I talked to Sean.”

  “Even better.”

  “I want to come back to work.”

  Owen shoved a menu at him. “Not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “What did you think of the book?”

  Matt rolled his shoulders against the tension pulling across his chest and around his back. “It’s heavy. You were right. It’s me on every page. Childhood issues, messed-up relationship with my dad, medicating myself with meaningless sex for years. Years. It’s a miracle I didn’t end up using drugs or gambling, and frankly, I’m not sure I haven’t misused alcohol in the past.”

  “Yeah. I know the feeling well.”

  “I know I’ve got some long-term work to do on all of that. Sean and I talked about counselling. I’m not messing around here, if that’s your fear.”

  Owen waved down the waiter, some new kid Matt didn’t know. “What do you want?”

  “To come back to work.”

  “Food, Matt. What do you want to eat?”

  “Oh.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and thought about the menu he knew by heart. “Hamburger with extra pickles. Fries and coleslaw on the side.”

  Owen ordered the Greek salad, then leaned back against the booth. “You’re on the schedule again starting on Monday.”

  Exactly a week off. “When did you put me back on?”

  “Never took you off. I just told you to take a week. You need to breathe, Matt. To process and think and react and ache.”

  “Oh, I’m aching. I’ve never been more painfully aware of my own limitations. I’ve had enough of that, to be honest.”

  “Yeah, that’s not going to work.”

  “What?”

  “You cramming your days so full of work you can’t sit in that discomfort and actually hear yourself think.”

  “I took the week. I read the book.”

  “There will be more books. Counselling is going to take time, too.”

  “I know that.” He did. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but it couldn’t consume his every waking minute, either.

  “Do you?”

  “What do you want me to say? I like working.”

  “You can come back, but it’s to a modified schedule. No more fill-in shifts, and honestly, I wouldn’t mind you dropping to a part-time schedule for a while.”

  “I—” Shit. “Why?”

  “Because I want you to be whole and healthy and doing this when you’re fifty. Because there will be more Fred Carletons, and I don’t want any of them to be your last patient.”

  Matt tried to swallow and couldn’t. He grabbed his water. No, he didn’t want that, either.

  “That was a rough day,” Owen said quietly.

  “Yeah.”

  “There will be more.”

  Matt nodded.

  “What will you do if Monday is one of them?”

  Fuck. His eyes burned and he looked down at the chipped Formica table. “Talk about it.”

  “When? On Tuesday when you’re back on the road? Wednesday when you’re at work? Thursday when you’ve been called in to cover for someone because you live around the corner?”

  He saw Owen’s point. “Okay.”

  “Two shifts in a row. That’s it for a while. Downtime in between. And keep talking. To me, to Sean, to your woman. To a professional as soon as humanly possible.”

  “Got it.
”

  Owen nodded, looking at him closely. “We all know this, but it’s hard to actually apply to ourselves, isn’t it? If we don’t take that time regularly, and especially when we’re dealing with trauma, we won’t be resilient enough to deal with the blows we cannot avoid.”

  Matt frowned. “I’m figuring that out.”

  “Good.”

  Their food arrived, and the conversation faded. But it picked up again as their plates were cleared. They talked about Owen’s new job, and Matt realized he’d also failed as a friend. “You’ve had a lot of change over the last six months, man. I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention to that.”

  Owen grinned at him. “You just did a deep dive into that book, didn’t you?”

  “Fuck yeah. I’ve got a lot on the line here.” His job. Natasha. Emily. His long-term happiness and mental stability.

  Natasha and Emily.

  He was still piecing together everything he wanted to tell Tasha, but he was close. And at the end of lunch, Owen said something that completed that puzzle.

  “Thanks for keeping me updated,” his boss said. “I appreciate your trust in me. There’s this unspoken idea in our occupation that we don’t need to talk about all this death and pain we’re exposed to, because what can we do about it? But we should talk. That’s what we can do. And I want your help in setting that standard with the others, too. We need to be more open.”

  Words to live by.

  After Owen headed off, Matt pulled out his phone.

  Matt: Can I come over? I’ll bring brownies.

  Natasha: Is that all?

  Matt: Also strong arms and an open heart. I want to talk. I’ve got a lot to tell you. But you can put me to work, too.

  Natasha: Okay.

  Matt: Is that an Emily “okay”?

  Natasha: Don’t forget the brownies. Come after dinner.

  He didn’t miss that she didn’t answer his question. Maybe it wasn’t okay. Maybe she wanted to give him a dressing down in person. Was that how dating went? Better to fight in person?

  It would give him a chance to grovel and make up in person, too.