by Rose, Emery
Tears stung my eyes. I was two seconds away from losing it.
“Hey, hey. Come on. It’s okay.”
“You’ll be okay? You’re going to be okay?”
He took another hit of his joint, his gaze focused on the backyard. He didn’t answer my question for a good two minutes. I watched a bee buzzing around the potted flowers on the patio. The backyard was like a mini-Paradise of exotic-looking flowers and palm trees. The vegetable and herb garden still flourished.
“No, darlin’,” Jimmy said, finally answering my question. “But you’re going to be okay. You and Shane.” He said the words with so much conviction that I almost believed him. And I knew he was trying to convince himself as much as me.
“What’s wrong with you, Jimmy?”
I held my breath, waiting for his answer. “I have a brain tumor. Glioblastoma Multiforme. Stage Four.”
I squeezed my eyes shut as if that would help me block out the words. “But they can operate, right? They can remove it or give you radiation to shrink it?” I fumbled for the words. I didn’t know the first thing about brain tumors. Except that it sounded bad. So, so bad.
“Afraid not,” he said, with a soft smile as if he was trying to lessen the blow for me.
“But there must be something the doctors can do.” I was grasping at straws, refusing to believe it could be true. Desperate for a remedy or a solution. He shook his head, letting me know there was nothing more the doctors could do. I sat in silence, trying to process this information. Why was this happening to Jimmy? How could the world be so cruel? Jimmy was one of the good guys in a world that had too few of them.
And Shane… oh my God, Shane. I slumped back in my chair and rubbed my chest, trying to alleviate the ache. Shane loved his dad so much.
“There’s nothing they can do?”
“Nope.”
“So now what?”
“I live my life to the fullest. Until I can’t.”
Until I can’t.
“Hopefully, I’ll be seeing my sweet, sweet hippie chick when I get to wherever I’m going.”
His sweet hippie chick was Zoe, Shane’s mom. That was supposed to be the silver lining in this shit cloud but for the people he was leaving behind it was hard to take comfort in that.
Jimmy was calmly smoking his joint while I was dying inside. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t visit you or call you… I thought about you. So much. I wanted to keep in touch, but I was scared, I guess. I was such a coward.”
“Don’t do that to yourself. I never blamed you. It wasn’t your fault, understand?”
It was though. It was all my fault.
“You’re here now. It’s all good.”
It’s all good. Was he high? Well, yeah, that was some good shit, apparently.
I thought about the bills on the kitchen counter and I knew that Shane and Jimmy couldn’t afford to pay them. But I could. That was one way I could help Shane. Too bad if it made him angry. He’d have to find a way to live with it.
“Can I get you something? Is there anything you need?” I wracked my brain, trying to think of what he could want or need. If it was within my power, I would get it for him. I’d even be his dealer if he needed me to get him more weed. Whatever he wanted or needed, I wanted him to know I would be here for him.
“You and Shane. Both playing nurse. At least you’re prettier to look at.”
I forced a laugh, but it sounded hollow. “I don’t know… Shane’s awfully pretty.”
“Tell me where you’ve been, kiddo. How’s the world been treating you?”
I settled back in my seat, relaxing slightly. He might be dying, but he was here now, and he sounded like his old self. He didn’t want me to mourn his loss while he was still very much alive.
“The world… well, I’ve seen a lot of it. I traveled to all those places I used to dream about.”
“And how did the reality live up to the dream?”
I smiled. “Sometimes it did and sometimes it didn’t.”
“That’s life, isn’t it? What’s your plan now?”
“I don’t have one. I can be your nurse.”
He chuckled. “Not ready for that yet. I’ve still got some living to do.”
That was good to hear, but I was still trying to wrap my head around the reality.
“How about your photography?”
“That was just a hobby.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Do something you love, and the money will follow. Or not. Doesn’t matter. Just be happy.”
That was Jimmy’s attitude. It always had been. It wasn’t something I had ever fully understood. But maybe it was the right attitude. I wanted to ask him what had happened to his surf shop. But I was scared to bring it up. I had a sinking feeling it was another casualty of the whole mess I’d created.
“Why did you come back?” he asked, cocking his head as he studied my face. It was another gesture that reminded me so much of Shane.
“Dylan told me Shane was back. He told me he saw him… back in February. I was in Paris for Fashion Week when he called me.” That sounded so strange, another world away. “Anyway, I’d been thinking about taking a break from modeling and I felt like… I needed to come back and make sure he was okay. Or… I don’t know. Just see him. Confront the past, you know? So here I am.”
He nodded like that was perfectly reasonable behavior. I came back for Shane. I came back to see if he was okay and now that I knew it was so much worse than anything I could have imagined, I wasn’t sure what to do next.
“I’m glad you’re here. You’re just what Shane needs.”
I laughed at his words. “I’m pretty sure I’m the last thing he wants or needs. He wants nothing to do with me.”
Jimmy chuckled. “Sure he doesn’t.”
I cleared the table, telling Jimmy to sit down and relax when he tried to help. I needed something to do, something that might make me feel useful even though I was helpless. I couldn’t heal Jimmy. I couldn’t fix Shane. But I could pay their bills. So, I tucked them in my purse before I returned to Jimmy who was relaxing in a deck chair like he didn’t have a care in the world. I wished I could channel some of his Zen into my own life.
“Do you need anything?” I asked, looking around the backyard for something to do that might be helpful but everything appeared to be in order. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“I don’t need a damn thing.”
“What does Shane need?” I asked quietly.
“Someone to hold his hand and help him through this.”
I would hold his hand and walk through fire with Shane. I would follow him to the pits of hell. If only he’d let me. But he hadn’t let me back then and I didn’t think he’d changed that much to believe he’d let me help him now.
“He needs to get back out there and start living again.”
“He still surfs,” I said, defending Shane.
“Uh huh. And that’s an hour or two out of his day. The rest of the time he spends working or hanging out with me.”
“He wants to spend time with you.”
“I know he does. And I want to spend time with him. But he needs to stop hovering. He’s like a helicopter parent.”
I laughed. “Because he’s worried. Because he loves you. So much.”
Jimmy averted his head and nodded. “I know. And I love him. That’s why I need to see him happy.”
My heart hurt for Jimmy and for Shane. For seven years, I had tried to move on with my life. I had smiled for the cameras, strutted the catwalk. I had gone to parties at trendy clubs, traveled the world, dined at some of the best restaurants. But no matter what I’d done or where I’d been, I had never once stopped thinking about Shane. And I had never loved anyone the way I loved him.
What was hard though, was being back here and not knowing if Shane even wanted me in his life. That was before I knew about Jimmy. This changed everything. If I believed in fate, I’d take this as a sign. I was supposed to come back. I
was supposed to be here.
I would do whatever I could for Jimmy. And I would try to help Shane. Even if he tried to push me away, I would be there for him the same way he’d always tried to be there for me.
Jimmy’s eyelids were heavy, like he was fighting sleep, so I sat in silence for a while until he drifted off. When his breathing was deep and even, I ventured down the small hallway and used the bathroom. Then I opened the door to Shane’s childhood bedroom and stood in the doorway for a moment. This was as bad as reading someone’s mail.
I breathed in his scent as I looked around Shane’s childhood bedroom. Everything was neat and tidy, the bed made, and the dresser top clear. Glancing over my shoulder to make sure nobody was watching, I opened the bedside table drawer, my heart sinking when I saw a box of condoms. Well, what did you expect? That he’d live like a monk? I closed the drawer, hating that the thought of him with another woman made my stomach churn. That old jealousy rearing its ugly head.
He was mine. Mine.
Except that he wasn’t and never really had been.
I opened the dresser drawers, confirming that Shane’s clothes were in them. Folded T-shirts and board shorts. Sweatshirts and jeans. I closed each drawer, telling myself I would stop after the next drawer. I shouldn’t be in here. I shouldn’t be searching for clues about the man I used to know. Touching his things. Holding his pillow to my nose and inhaling deeply as if it would bring him closer to me. This was stalker mode.
But I couldn’t seem to stop myself. I wanted to know who he was now. I was searching for clues that would enlighten me. I opened the closet door and looked at the collection of shoes lined up on the floor—Nikes, flip-flops, Vans, work boots. Flannels, jackets, and hoodies on hangers, all of which I recognized. Nothing new here.
My eye caught on three shoeboxes on the shelf above the hanging rail. I knew I wouldn’t find Nikes inside. I waited a few seconds, listening for signs of movement. The house was quiet.
No, Remy. Don’t do it. You have crossed a line.
I did it. I pushed aside the beanies and baseball caps and pulled one of the boxes down from the shelf. Then I sat on the edge of his bed, took a deep breath and lifted the lid. Ignoring the twinge of guilt, my hands shook as I sifted through the photos. Some of them were taken with the Polaroid Jimmy had given me. Photos of Shane. Photos of us. Photos of me. Underneath the photos was a stack of letters I’d sent him in prison. The rest of them must be in the other two shoeboxes. I’d written him so many letters and had never once gotten a reply. I rifled through them. They’d all been opened. I had told myself that he hadn’t received them. But he had. And here they were.
“The fuck are you doing in here?”
I startled. The box crashed to the floor, photos and memories spilling across the braided rug. I got on my hands and knees, trying to gather them up, return them to the box. Shane put his hands under my arms and hauled me to my feet. “Get out of my room.”
“Shane—”
“Go.” He pointed to the door, his teeth gritted.
“No. I’m not leaving.” I planted my hands on my hips like I had the right to be here. Like I had any right at all to push back when I was clearly in the wrong here. But that was me, wasn’t it? “Not until we talk about everything. You keep avoiding me. I was trying to find out who you are now.”
He let out a harsh laugh. “So you thought the answer was to come into my room and go through my shit?”
“You cut me out of your life.”
“What the fuck was I supposed to do, Remy? I was in prison for manslaughter.”
Manslaughter. Such an ugly word. It had been an accident. Shane was not capable of killing anyone. “I never got to see you again. I never got to talk about anything…you could have let me visit you. Why wouldn’t you let me see you?”
He stared at me for a moment and then turned me around, grabbed me by the shoulders and shoved me in front of the mirror on the back of his closet door. “Look at yourself, Remy. Take a good long look.”
“I know what I look like.” I knew every flaw too. They’d been pointed out over the years, spoken aloud as if I wasn’t in the room.
“I don’t think you do. I don’t think you ever did. You were always so fucking oblivious to how you looked. To what it did to people when they saw you. To men,” he added, his voice tight. His fingers dug into my shoulders, his body vibrating with anger. With frustration.
“Don’t go there, Shane,” I warned.
“I thought you wanted to talk. Change of heart?”
I’d had seven years of therapy. I should be able to handle a conversation with Shane. “Fine. Let’s talk.”
“Not until you look at yourself. Take a good, long look.”
I looked in the mirror, but I wasn’t looking at myself. I was looking at him. Shane was gorgeous. He always had been. His muscles didn’t come from working out in a gym. They came from manual labor and from surfing. They came from sweating in the hot SoCal sun. And his face… I had always loved it. The broad cheekbones and full lips. The square, firm jaw and the little lines around his hazel eyes from squinting into the sun.
I miss your face.
“Shane,” I whispered. He was still holding my shoulders, but his grip had relaxed. His callused hands were warm against my bare skin. He leaned in closer, the heat of his body and his nearness making me dizzy.
“Remy.” My name on his lips sounded like a plea or a prayer. I heard the desperation in his voice, felt his chest rising and falling against my back as I leaned into him, needing his strength.
Kiss me. Hold me. Never let me go.
“Shane. I’ve missed you. So much,” I whispered.
He dropped his hands to his sides and took a step back. “I can’t do this. Not again.”
It felt like he’d poured a bucket of ice water over my head. I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself for protection. I was losing him again, before I’d ever gotten him back, the moment we shared too much for him.
He ran his hand through his hair. “I was in prison, Remy. Do you really think I would expose you to that? Did I need to know that guys were jerking off thinking about your face and your body? Trust me. They would have, and I would have heard about it. All. The. Damn. Time. They would have taken one look at you…” He stopped and exhaled, and I watched his face in the mirror, the pain etched on his features. His raw, naked emotions on display. All I wanted to do was comfort him, but he wouldn’t let me. “You didn’t belong there. I never wanted that for you. Not after everything you’d been through. It would have killed me to see you.”
I swallowed hard, wanting to say something, anything that would make this better for him. He lowered his head and rubbed the back of his neck.
“Just go, Remy. Please go.”
He didn’t sound angry anymore. Just tired. Resigned. Like this was our fate and he’d decided to accept it rather than fight it. Maybe we were never meant to be together.
I nodded. “Okay.” I nodded again. And then I walked out of his childhood bedroom, but I stopped in the hallway, my back to his room. “Why didn’t you answer my letters?”
“I never read them,” he said.
I shook my head. Shane wasn’t a liar. Why was he lying about this? “But… they’ve been opened…”
“Not by me. Inmates don’t get to open their own mail.”
Another liberty that had been stripped from him. And yet, he’d kept the letters without reading them. All this time, and he still hadn’t read them. “Why didn’t you read them?”
I waited for an answer, not really expecting one. But still, I waited.
“It hurt too much,” he said quietly. So quietly that I strained to hear him.
Without turning to look at his face again, I walked out of the house and I drove away. All I was to him now was a painful reminder of everything he’d lost. He wasn’t the Shane I’d known so many years ago and I was no longer the same Remy.
It hurt too much.
30
; Shane
“There must be some mistake.”
“My records show that it’s been paid in full,” the woman said. “Will there be anything else today, sir?”
“No. Thanks.” I cut the call and dialed the next number, somehow knowing it would be the same. It was. I stuffed the invoices back into my glove compartment and slammed the palm of my hand against my dash. Then I got out of my Jeep and kicked the tire a few times. No surprise that it didn’t make me feel any better.
I got back in my car and drove to the marina.
The wooden walkway creaked under my feet as I strode to the end of the dock, in search of my dad. I found him hosing down the deck of Sam’s boat. Two wetsuits hung over the railing which led me to the conclusion that he’d been out diving again. Of course, he was going to go ahead and do whatever he damn well pleased. That was him, wasn’t it?
He looked me up and down. I was still wearing my work clothes. I was a sweaty mess of dirt and grime. The dust from the demolition site was clogging my throat. It was a beautiful evening, but somehow, I’d found a way to resent the sun for shining. I stared out at the water, the place that used to be my home but wasn’t anymore.
“Something on your mind?”
I dragged my eyes away from the water and to his face. “You’ve been diving again.”
It was a rhetorical question, so he didn’t bother answering. He waited for me to get to the real reason I’d charged over here, not even stopping to shower. “What did you tell Remy? Does she know about…” I couldn’t even bring myself to say the words. “The bills have all been paid.”
He laughed, taking me by surprise. “I should have known.” He was still laughing to himself although I didn’t get the joke. “She wanted to help. She found the bills on the counter. I stuffed them in a drawer but too late.”
I threw up my hands. “And now she’s gone and paid the damn things. You weren’t even supposed to open them. I told you to leave them for me—”
“You need the help. She wants to help.”