by Maggie Twain
I stop and see my own, distraught and completely helpless reflection staring back, though this time, I really don’t think it’s the angle of the glass that’s making me look this terrible, and then the window rolls slowly down and my face is replaced by someone else’s. In this moment, it’s the warmest face I’ve ever seen and when the door’s thrown open and I see Mister Astor sitting there beckoning with a hand for me to enter, I don’t even hesitate before clambering inside. My oversized bags snag on the doorframe and I haven’t the strength to lift them in.
“Hold on, I’ll get those.” He jumps out the other side and then he’s rushing around the back of the car as he shouts for Carey to pop the trunk. His companion gets out the front and offers to help and I think the taller man tells him to get back inside. He wants to help me himself. Mister Astor goes for the bag strap, not knowing that my white fingers have lost all feeling and I’m having problems letting go. His hand is soft and he’s gazing into my eyes, a look of concern, as I hear him say everything’s going to be alright and that I should let go, leave everything to him. Apparently, I do as he says, my world is spinning around me, the trunk slams closed and then he’s assisting me into the back of the vehicle.
I’m not sure what’s happening and the next few minutes are a blur, though I’m vaguely aware the car’s moving and we’re heading somewhere. I don’t care where. I’m also aware of the tall man sharing the back seat and that he’s as far from me as its limits will allow, that he’s rubbing his hands and breathing heavily, even as he’s unable to take his eyes from me.
The driver, Carey, is it? says something incomprehensible and shortly after the car stops and the man in the back gets out and spends a while hunching over a fence. It’s Carey’s words that jerk me out from my trance.
“…not far to go now and then we’ll eat. You look like you could do with a burger or two, extra cheese, fries, the full works. Maybe a big slice of cheesecake for dessert.” There’s something in his hand. It’s a mask. “But could you wear this? Just while we’re in the car.”
I do as he says, everything’s automatic anyway and I think I zone out again. It’s not until my door opens and Mister Astor is standing there that I regain enough sentience to recognize what I’m doing and who I’m with, even though I have no idea where I am or why.
“Thanks,” I say shyly as I step out, noting how the man holds the door’s bulk like a shield between us and I shuffle onto the asphalt. We’re at what looks like a country diner surrounded by fields. It’s quiet and peaceful and there are no other cars in the lot.
I devour a chicken burger and an entire pizza as the two men lean back at opposite sides of our booth and it’s only after I’ve worked my way through about two-thirds of the entire bounty that it occurs to me I have no idea how Mister Astor happened to be passing at the very moment I came stumbling out from my apartment. Former apartment, that is.
“I came looking for you,” he says as though he can read my mind, “to say sorry for the way I spoke to you earlier.” His finger curls around the handle of his coffee cup, though he’s barely even touched it. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that but…” he trails off.
“Well, you had to know.” Carey finishes for him.
He waves a dismissive hand. “Sure but there are better, more tactful ways of speaking to a lady.”
There’s literally nobody else in the diner and Mister Astor feels unduly far away at the other side of the table. I’m seated beside Carey who has to repeatedly lower his mask to sip his coffee, although nobody said anything when I removed mine to eat. Maybe that’s why Mister Astor is leaning away, his hand playing nervously with his cup and saucer. There had also been a moment after our arrival when Carey spent a few minutes wiping down the entire booth with some sort of special chemical he carries around with him and even inside, he’s still wearing his driving gloves.
I speed up my chewing, eager to follow up on Carey’s point without speaking with a mouthful. I’ve eaten so much food that it’s a wonder I’m still hungry. “Had to know what? Ah…” I begin because it’s obvious, now that I’m able to think about it with a little more clarity, “whether my grades were genuine.”
Mister Astor is quick to speak in my defense. “They are. I know that now.”
I nod and smile shyly. “I’m proud of my achievements.”
“And if some jackass claims you’re only at Harvard because…” Mister Astor’s jaw clenches as he looks away, “well, I can understand why you’d be pissed.” He pauses as he looks across towards his friend.
Carey understands his unspoken words, slaps the table and slides out the booth, taking his coffee with him. “I’ll be in the car.”
Mister Astor gazes at me from across the table. “I liked it when you stood up to me.” His hand starts to slide over in my direction, pauses, and then returns. “Nobody ever stands up to me, not like that, not even my brothers.” His voice is a deep rumble and sounds so assured and confident that it’s strange to know he’s afraid of germs, of proximity, but even with the distance I feel safe. I haven’t felt safe in a long time. And yet he can’t even bring himself to touch me, perhaps he never will.
I push the rest of the food aside. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”
He glances out the window. It’s getting dark outside and it almost feels haunted, yet in a beautifully surreal way, the breeze making the windows shiver. He twists back and turns up his palms. “I have to level with you, Haley.” He leans forwards and meets my eyes with his intense gaze. “I have a situation, an absolutely critical situation regarding my family.” He goes on to explain his circumstances and that he’ll only receive his inheritance if he takes a wife and produces an heir. He’s in a race against his brothers because only one of the three can win, the other two will lose everything. He’s also worried about his family name and how his brothers might possibly destroy the Astor legacy should either of them be first to produce a son or daughter.
I’m barely breathing as I listen intently and before he even finishes I’m beginning to understand my potential role in this and why he wanted assurance that I was as smart as my position at Harvard would have one believe. “You wanted me to have your baby?” The words come out as a hiss, barely audible even to myself.
He nods, still not once taking his eyes from me. The entire scenario is incredibly unusual though despite that, he manages to make the whole thing sound logical, almost like it’s just another business deal. “Of course, I would have looked after you and provided for you for the rest of your life. You’d never have wanted for anything, including other partners if you wished.” Those last words were the only ones he speaks whilst averting his eyes. “And our child would have been the inheritor of the great Astor dynasty.”
Obviously, it’s a lot to take in, and it does not escape my attention how he just spoke of his plan in the past conditional.
Why? Has he changed his mind?
My head shakes of its own accord. “B…but…how?” I’m wanting to ask about him, and that I’m pretty sure he’s afraid of physical contact, of breathing the same air, even. He’s made that painfully obvious. He still is making it painfully obvious.
Again, he reads my mind. “I have a condition known as haphephobia, which means I’m afraid of touch.” He looks away as his jaw tightens and I’m sensing his frustration, that maybe he’d like nothing more than to be normal. “I’m sure you’ve heard of IVF. We’d have gone to the best doctor in the field. I’d never need to have even touched you.” Again with the past conditional. Sigh.
I recall the moment he’d taken my bags from my hand on the street. We’d definitely made contact then and he’d spent the rest of the drive recovering. I’d like nothing more than to help him but it’s just so much to take in right now, especially when I have no place to live and am on the verge of returning home to Milwaukee anyway. I’m about to respond when he speaks first.
“But I don’t think I can go through with it now,” he looks genuin
ely pained at his realization, “I can’t put you through something like that, not for me. No! When you have a baby, it will be with someone who can stand to…” he twists away, an agonized expression contorting his lips. When he turns back, he shakes his head and says, “I will fund your time at college.”
“What?” I hiss.
He nods, all final. “There’s already a hundred thousand dollars in your bank account.”
My eyes widen. “What?”
“And Carey’s finding a place for you to live right now. You look exhausted, I suggest that you get some rest and catch up on your studies.” He waves for the waitress. “Check, please.” He slides out his side of the booth, his demeanor changed suddenly, and reaches inside his jacket, pulling out a mask. “Wear this for me.”
Chapter Six
Decker
I can smell her from the other side of the back seat. A sort of peachy strawberry. It sends conflicting signals through my brain. It’s intoxicating in the most wonderful way and yet…
My hands are clenching and unclenching without my knowing it. I wind the window down and turn towards the breeze. Light relief. Peach-strawberry combo obliterated. I’m both relieved and devastated.
She’s watching me. Every time I bring myself to look at her, she’s watching me. I shouldn’t look. It’s too painful. I can’t have her. And neither could I inflict myself upon her, a girl like that. Beautiful. Thoughtful. Intelligent. Stoic. Determined.
The ride is silent. Filled with tension. Outside is dark but the light of Boston looms ahead.
We arrive in Cambridge. Her new apartment. It’s closer to her college. Nicer. It has a garden that’s been tended by loving hands. The rent’s paid until the end of the semester. I can’t have her but I want her to be happy. The car stops.
“Thank you for all you’ve done,” her voice is close, I can sense her leaning nearer but not enough, yet too much.
I turn away and focus on a nearby tree across the road. “Carey, Haley’s bags, if you wouldn’t mind.”
I feel the draught when her door opens and then I feel her exiting, she’s so slight that the car barely rises less her weight. Now, there’s only a strange, awful, empty feeling flooding my mind, my body. The hood pops and then Carey’s helping with her bags. I concentrate on my breathing. Somehow, I sense her standing, watching, waiting, even though she can’t see through the glass. I can’t bring myself to turn, to look at her. One final time.
The trunk slams shut and then Carey clambers back into the driver’s seat.
I tell him to drive.
He does.
Back at the office, it’s approaching ten at night and I’ve been nursing the same glass of Scotch for over an hour. Maybe I ought to fire up the treadmill, clear my mind, allow something new to push its way to the fore, but no.
I’ve already lost this silly little game.
In fact, it’s hard to say if I was ever in with a shot to begin with.
There’s an obnoxious sounding knock, the door opens and I immediately recoil at the sight.
“Hey, bro, I just came on by to see how you’re getting on?” Butcher strolls in, his long brown hair let loose to flow over his shoulders and his stroll is so casual and carefree that it’s almost like I’m not supposed to notice the tall blonde he happens to have an arm around as she clips inside my office. Oh, and one more thing … there’s a very prominent bulge at her belly.
The Scotch falls from my limp grasp and the liquid spills over my desk. Surely this has to be a mirage, or a joke. Or maybe the family embarrassment’s been hiding something all this time. Either way, he’s stolen a march on us both, Tanner at least, or has he? Because this can’t be real.
I’m still gaping at the woman. “Butch, what…” the words fail to materialize.
This is the moment that ordinarily, he might pretend to be taking an interest in some insignificant item in my office just to appear blasé, but I have absolutely nothing around to take an interest in, so instead they just continue strolling towards the window. “Ditch, I’d like you to meet Sara.” There’s a grin there and it’s not completely unsinister, he’s really enjoying this, but there’s something else behind that sardonic smile and I can’t quite figure out what it is. “I’m sure you’ll forgive her for not shaking your hand.”
The girl isn’t unattractive but due to what’s probably shyness she’s unable to meet my eye for longer than a few beats. She’s a party to this and is not comfortable with it, his games, meeting me this way. This is all his doing.
Butch turns around and makes a deliberate show of perching on my ledge as he makes a long, loud and irritating exhalation. “Sara and I met in Greece last year, did you know, and we’ve been dating ever since.” He folds his arms across his chest. “You were the one who always criticized me for my choices, well,” he shrugs, nothing unusual with this conversation at all, “looks like I’ve finally taken your words to heart.” He winks. “Aren’t you proud of me, huh, big bro?”
Twenty-four hours ago I might have been pissed, real pissed at whatever game he’s trying to play, but now I’m simply too numb to give much of a shit at all. I already know I’ve lost this. “Congratulations to you both,” I say and somehow manage to sound like I mean it. I want my brothers to be happy, both of them, I just don’t trust Butcher with ten billion dollars.
I’ve been so knocked sideways by this surprise visit that up until this point, I’ve failed to notice that neither of them are wearing face coverings. Butch knows full well about my condition. He’s doing this intentionally, to mess with my head.
“Oh, don’t worry, bro,” he yawns, forcing me to lean away, “we’re not stopping long so I won’t steal your precious clean air.”
I grab a cloth from inside my desk and begin mopping up the spilled Scotch. Occupying myself sometimes helps take my mind off the invasion. “What do you want?”
A contemptuous breath of air escapes him. “Don’t play that game with me, you complete freak of nature.” There’s something in his tone that causes me to stop what I’m doing.
I stare straight at him. “Butch, what are you talking about?”
His face turns red suddenly and then he’s leaning close, his hands gripping the edge of my desk as his face comes to within a nose of mine. He doesn’t touch me. “Don’t play the fucking ignorant cunt with me, you piece of shit.” When I remain silent, he continues even more aggressively. “You’ve been having me followed and…and Sara was narrowly missed by a motorcycle today.”
I lean back, eyes wide and surely he can see my reaction, that my complete and total fucking ignorance to this is genuine. “Butch,” I raise my palms defensively, “I may be many things but I’m not the type of man who would harm a pregnant lady, not even for all the money in the world.”
“Yeah, right!” Now his hands are around my collar, tugging, but his eyes are displaying uncertainty now, a flicker. “You’ve put out a hit on Sara, haven’t you!”
I shake my head and look beyond him to the woman. “Sara, I promise, I would never do such a thing.” Her face is hard to read, perhaps she’s in trauma.
“You won’t win, Ditch,” he lets go and backs away, “I might have been willing to find a way of cutting you in after all this is done but not now, not after this.”
I slam a closed fist into my desk. “Damn it, aren’t you listening to me. Tanner … have you spoken to Tanner?”
His face jerks back and it’s almost like it’s the first time he’s even considered the prospect of the ruthless sibling having had anything to do with this. The fool. “He wouldn’t. He knows what it’s like to lose someone close to him.”
“Are you sure? You don’t sound it.”
“Fuck you!”
I shake my head. “Have you even considered the likelihood that it was an accident? Boston’s a busy place.”
His face turns serious, even more so than previous. “Who said anything about it happening in Boston?”
My heart thuds. What have I just s
aid? “Well … you live in Boston, don’t you?”
“When I’m in the country, as you know,” his head tilts sidewards, “but it happened in Gloucester.”
Relief floods through me, maybe I’m breaking through here, unwittingly. “There you have it then.”
“Bah!” He grabs his woman’s hand and pulls her towards the door. “You’re just covering up, playing the ignorant fool. You’re hardly likely to say anything else.” He shows teeth. “You’re not quite that dumb.”
“You don’t sound so sure, Butch.”
He points and his entire arm is shaking. “If I find out that you had anything to do with this…” I can’t remember a time I’ve ever seen Butch this angry, he’s supposed to be the super chilled out one, the fucking doped up hippy, but then if what he’s saying is true then his woman has just experienced a near miss.
I make a point of standing and stare at him from across the room. “If you find any evidence then I’ll gladly forfeit the money myself.” He remains unresponsive to my attempts at making him see sense, which angers me incredibly. “Damn it, you worthless bastard, this is my niece or nephew we’re talking about, my blood. I would never do such a thing.”
I am the family enigma, he doesn’t believe me.
“Just keep the hell away from me and my family, you got that?” He backs away. “You won’t win this, you son-of-a-bitch, I’ll see to it that you don’t.” The door slams hard after him.
I’m so incensed that in the end I do take that session on the treadmill, despite it being late, and two hours later I’m still thumping that fucking rubber like no other time I can recall.
I need to think.
I have to come up with something.
But what?
Haley was my one hope.
There are other women, for sure, but none like her, none so beautiful, so pure, so gritty, determined, perfect.
I can’t get her out of my head.
But she deserves a proper man, one who can bring himself to pound that tight little cunt every night and morning for the rest of their lives. She deserves to be loved.