by Liz Gavin
“Killed the motherfucker.”
No doubt about that.
“Exactly. Then, you’d either be in prison or you would have been killed by Mark’s buddies from the Crips. Plus, I was ashamed. I felt dirty. I blamed myself for what happened at the party.”
He covered her hands, pressing the palms against his face. He closed his eyes to better enjoy the warmth that radiated from her as it penetrated his numbness, nudging it away. He pulled her hands from his cheeks, laced their fingers together and rested the back of her hands on his thighs.
Then, he pinned her with his gaze and asserted, “I wish I knew this then, so I could’ve told you there was no reason to feel dirty or ashamed. You did nothing wrong. I don’t believe what-ifs will get us anywhere, but I’ve got to say this. Had I had a chance to make the bastard die a slow, excruciating death, I would’ve happily taken it.”
Her upper lip quivered as if she was fighting a smile. “You’re saying I was right?”
“I guess I’m saying we’ll never know.” He shrugged. “We can’t change the past, but I still haven’t wrapped my head around what happened after the party. I get that he forced his dick down your throat at the party, but that doesn’t change the fact you left me. For Mark. Months after that night. Why did you do that after he treated you that way?”
Her cheeks beamed red and she framed Tristan’s face again, prodding his stare as if she was trying to reach his soul. With a slight sigh, she blurted, “He blackmailed me. Mark picked up on the fact I never told you what he did that night. One day he cornered me at the studio. We stayed late, alone, mixing a track. He said he knew I was terrified at the possibility you’d kill him, if I told you the truth.”
Tristan knew her too well to recognize she burst out the story before she got cold feet.
“You’re saying he forced you to sleep with him, so he wouldn’t tell me that he was fucking you? That doesn’t make sense. He wouldn’t tell me that and risk getting his face smashed in.”
“That was my response to him, then I told him to fuck off.”
Tristan threw his hands up. “You’ve totally lost me here. How did he blackmail you, if that didn’t work?”
Izzie held his stare without a word, her eyes moving over his face, clearly buying time. Never a good sign.
She finally said, “That last tour, you didn’t come with us on the road because you were putting together the band, remember?”
“Yeah, Noah and I were recruiting.”
“Exactly. On the road, I’d be too late to come down for breakfast or I wouldn’t eat at all in the mornings. Most of the time, my face was ashen. Mark noticed I was pregnant before I did. He knew he would never break us up, if you learned you and I were having a baby. So, he played his last hand. He told me he’d have his Crips buddies kill you, if I didn’t dump you for him.”
A loud buzz rang inside Tristan’s head, muffling Izzie’s voice. Stuck in loop, his brain didn’t process the rest of her words. All he heard was that one piece of information that threw his certainties into the trash can. A humungous monkey wrench had been thrown into his life and the gears got stuck.
Feeling like he should yell at the top of his lungs, he was surprised as he whispered, “What the fuck, Izzie? You’re saying Arthur is mine?”
She nodded, and his world crumpled.
Again.
11
Izzie
It killed Izzie to see the pain in Tristan’s face.
He had the right to hate her.
Kick her out of his apartment.
Make a scene.
He did nothing of the above.
Instead, he sat on the couch, elbows dug in his powerful thighs, hands dangling between his legs.
His eyes stared into space.
She had stunned him, broken him.
Again.
She needed him whole, but she was breaking him all over again.
It shattered her heart just the same.
She had waited too long to give him the truth.
It brought pain rather than redemption.
What was I thinking?
She could only pray he would understand her reasons.
“Fuck, Izzie. I need time. I need to process this crap. You shouldn’t have dumped this shit on me like that. I mean, I’ve got a son, for fuck’s sake. You never told me I had a son.”
After his long, contemplative silence, Tristan spat out the words like a machine gun on steroids. He barely breathed. A thick, blue-green vein beating on his neck and forehead worried her, but Izzie didn’t have it in her to stop him. He needed to get the anguish out of his system, she had prepared herself for that.
No mental rehearsal had included that level of raw emotions. She did her best to cope with reality.
He raged on. “You, better than anyone, knew how badly I wanted a family. You witnessed my suffering growing up without a dad. Damn it, you would be the one helping me get my act together whenever I flew off the handle.”
“I did that because I felt guilty. You wouldn’t listen to your mom. You kept picking fights at school to protect me, but you never told her that. She thought you were using. I didn’t want to betray your trust, so I didn’t tell her about the bullying.”
Tristan shook his head as a faint smile lightened his painful expression. “Those idiots.” His face got clouded again. “That doesn’t matter now. I used your bullying as an excuse to knock people around. I was so mad all the time. I was mad at everyone, but mostly I was mad at myself.”
He paused again, but Izzie knew better than to say anything. Her memories of his rebel days were certainly as vivid as his. She had gained her status of safe haven back then. He would call her that after all those times he cried himself to sleep, face buried in her long hair, or on her lap. They were both kids, so there wasn’t any sexual component in those moments. She would stroke his back, while he wailed and cussed.
His words still echoed in her head. Why, Izzie? Why wasn’t I good enough for dad to stick around?
At twelve, she didn’t know how to fix her best friend’s agony.
At thirty-eight, she felt almost as clueless. Only this time, she had broken his heart.
Tristan added, “You heard me promise, over and over, that I would never put my kid through the same hell I went through. I promised I would never abandon my own. You didn’t give me a say in the matter, though.” His eyes bore into hers and it took her all she had not to flinch. “How do you think I feel learning my son grew up without me?”
She swallowed past the block of regret choking her throat and forced the words out of her mouth. “I cannot undo what I did. I can’t erase the pain I caused. I would if I could. I hope you understand why I did it all, though. I was young and stupid, no quarrel there. But, I did what I thought was right. I was protecting you. Mark’s words weren’t empty threats. He could have pulled that off. He scared the shit out of me. But, I didn’t care what happened to me, as long as you were safe. I couldn’t live, if they killed you. I couldn’t live without my soul.”
He shook his head, his face blank as if he was in a daze. Izzie couldn’t tell if he had heard her or not.
“Does Arthur know about me?”
“Not until recently.”
“What changed?” She could almost hear the gears in his head as he clued in. “Whatever happened to make you change your mind and tell him about me? That’s why you came down here, isn’t it?”
She nodded and waited for him to process the thoughts that were going in circles in his mind. She knew that face, the one Tristan wore when he was in deep concentration.
He rambled, “You married Mark, so his blackmailing worked. You stayed together for what, five years? It’s a long time to stay in a marriage based on lies and blackmail. Then again, you were both into heavy drugs, so I guess it didn’t really matter. Suddenly, you decided to get your act together. You got clean and dumped Mark. You could’ve come clean with me back then. Why didn’t you? Why wait until now?”
/> “I was a wreck back then. Arthur’s diagnosis was my wake-up call. He needed me sober, so I checked myself into a rehab facility.”
“What diagnosis?”
“He was born with mild kidney dysplasia, which is a genetic or acquired condition. In his case it’s the latter, due to my drug abuse during pregnancy.” She stopped his words with her raised hand. “There’s nothing you can say that would make me feel worse than I already do. I’m to blame for his disease and I’ve lived with that regret for a long time.”
“I wasn’t about to say anything like that. I was going to say my mom has kidney failure.”
“Oh, it’s just that all these years, I’ve been beating myself up because Arthur is paying for my sins. I thought you would blame me.” When Tristan shook his head, she added, “After Arthur was born, in the first years, the doctors monitored his condition, which was fine. But, guilt made me get deeper into drugs. I spiraled out of control, began using heavier stuff. Mark was glad to supply them. I would only let him touch me when I was high. Well, I didn’t allow him to touch me, more like I didn’t fight him because I was too wasted.” She ignored Tristan’s sharp intake of air, afraid she wouldn’t be able to finish telling him it all, if she stopped talking for a moment. “That changed when Arthur’s health worsened. He needed me, like really needed me. My parents were gone, he didn’t have anyone else. I checked myself into rehab and worked hard to vanquish my demons. I had to become the mother Arthur needed. When I got clean, I realized I didn’t need Mark in my life, or anyone else who would bring me down. I kicked him out of the house and filed for divorce. Mark was in too much trouble with the police back then, he signed the divorce papers without a peep.”
“Still, you didn’t come clean with me after you divorced him.”
She fumbled with her hands, but didn’t cast her eyes down. She held his stare, wanting to give him a chance to read her feelings. She hoped he hadn’t lost that uncanny skill of his. He used to read her like a freaking book.
Izzie confessed, “I chose to concentrate on Arthur. When I started going to the NA meetings, my sponsor advised me I needed to strengthen myself before facing you because your reaction had the potential to trigger a serious relapse. In the meantime, Mark’s drug problems got worse and he ran out of money. He went back to blackmailing me, only then he wanted money in exchange for not telling the press about Arthur’s real father. I was focused on my son’s health and on getting myself back on track. I didn’t want to deal with Mark, I suppose. I don’t know. It just seemed easier paying his hush money and getting on with life than having to deal with him.”
Silence filled the space between them as Tristan stared into her eyes as if probing her soul.
He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before saying, “I could have helped, if you had come to me then. I would have stepped up and gladly taken care of my son.” He paused and sighed. The weight of the world still on his shoulders. It looked so from where Izzie was observing him struggle with his emotions. He shrugged. “I don’t see the point in discussing what I might have done, though. Forget I mentioned it. What did the doctors say about Arthur’s condition back then?”
“His kidneys began to fail, so the doctors put him on dialysis.”
“That’s what happened to my mom. It worked for a while until it didn’t. Now, they say there’s little else they can do for her. Her body is slowly shutting down.”
Izzie squeezed Tristan’s hand. “Arthur’s been on dialysis for about five years, but recently the prognosis got grim. He needs a transplant. The doctors haven’t found a compatible donor due to his rare blood type. The same as yours.”
“He’s type O negative? Oh, God. He can only get blood transfusions from another typo O negative.”
“Same goes for a kidney transplant.”
12
Tristan
A week passed since Izzie had obliterated his known world. All he believed true had turned out false and Tristan’s head was still reeling from the implications. He didn’t hate her as he used to, but he didn’t trust her either. Trust was a delicate thing that once shattered took time, and a lot of reassuring evidence, to be mended. It was a process. He was aware of that and was beginning to believe Izzie knew it too. She hadn’t pushed him, or demanded anything from him, over the past week.
After agreeing to donate a kidney to Arthur, a marathon of laboratory tests and doctor’s appointments followed, turning the remaining of Tristan’s life upside down. And through the shifting sands that his existence had become, Izzie stood out as an unexpected constant. She accompanied him to the appointments, made sure he ate and slept enough, and found time to cheer up his mom with regular visits.
If the pieces of his crushed trust had not yet been glued back together, his foolish heart proved much more resilient. Or masochist. Tristan was not quite sure which was the case with his old ticker. It just went berserk every time Izzie got close. Good thing his brain didn’t follow suit. At least, not all the time.
He put his doubts aside as he turned the metal knob of Nelson’s office at Chez Nous. He had called a meeting with Nelson and Noah to discuss the restaurant.
“I wish you were that punctual for rehearsals,” Noah grumbled as Tristan flopped on the empty chair beside him.
“Don’t start,” Tristan grunted back.
“You two behave now,” Nelson admonished them in his usual fatherly tone. Over twenty years their senior, he pulled that off without pissing them off. “Let’s stick to the agenda, shall we?” When the two Americans bumped fists, Nelson grinned. “That’s more like it. What’s the plan Tristan? Still running tests?”
“Yeah. The doctors began tests here, but more will be done in the U. S., when I get there. Arthur will be tested as well. For now, the doctors are focusing on assessment. They want to make sure I’m a compatible donor.”
Noah had regained his habitual sunny disposition. “I thought all they needed to know was your blood type.”
“That is a key element, but other things must be considered. They’ve also run ECG, urine, and glucose tolerance tests, to name a few.”
Nelson nodded. “My nephew went through the same ordeal some years ago, when he donated a kidney to his daughter. If memory serves, the idea is to ensure your physical and psychological health are up to par for a transplant procedure, correct?”
“That is correct. A major surgery is a taxing procedure under any circumstances. They want to make sure I’m fit for it.”
“You mean they won’t go forward with the procedure, if they find out you’re a basket case? Izzie should start looking elsewhere,” Noah taunted.
“I must be certifiable to have gotten into business with you, Baby Face.”
The three men laughed, but Nelson steered the conversation back to the serious topic, “Son, between your mother’s health issues and the transplant, I’d say you should concentrate on your family. Do what you’ve got to do for them and forget the rest. Chez Nous will be here, when you get it all sorted out. Meanwhile, it’s in good hands.”
“Never doubted that. I called this meeting because I wanted to have a chance to talk to you and Noah, explain why I’ve vanished, so you don’t think I’m jumping ship.”
“No worries, man,” Noah retorted. “I might have twisted your arm all those years ago to get you to invest in the restaurant, but you’ve come a long way since then.”
“Goofball.”
Tristan would miss the crazy bastard while he was gone. Not that he would ever admit it to Noah, though.
Unfolding from the chair, Tristan shook Nelson’s hand. “I’m going to California in a few days. Call me day or night, if you need me.”
“Focus on getting your son back on his feet. Let us worry about the rest.”
As he and Noah left Nelson’s office, and crossed the corridor to the one they shared, Tristan savored the feeling that Nelson’s words revived. He had a son. He hadn’t gotten over the thrill, and the dread, the thought caused in him.
“Excited about meeting him?” Noah asked, as they settled behind their desks.
“You mean Arthur? I’m psyched. And terrified.”
“I would be too, if I were in your shoes. How about Izzie?”
“What about her?”
“Don’t be cute? Up until the other day, you had sworn her off your life. She swooped back in, and stole the ground from beneath your feet, turning your beliefs inside out. I bet things are intense between you.”
“We meet every day. She insists on accompanying me to the doctors’ appointments and tests. Things have gotten intense as you put it, but there’s too much pain and regret between us as well. It’ll take time for us to patch our relationship, if we ever get to doing that. To be honest, I don’t know if I want to go that route. I’ve been enjoying having my childhood friend back, you know?”
“I guess I’m not enough for you anymore, huh?”
Tristan threw a paper ball at Noah. “Wipe that silly grin off your stupid face. You know what I mean. Izzie and I were friends long before we were lovers. It’s natural we repair our friendship first.”
“You’re saying you’re not attracted to her anymore?”
“You kidding? I’ve been fighting finger cramps, I jerk off so often now.”
“That I believe.”
They worked in silence for a while.
Tristan broke it. “You know, the tests are invasive enough, but nothing compares to my appointments with the shrink.”
“Too much prodding and probing of the mind?”
“You can say that again. Years of stuffing demons in a closet have come back to bite me in the ass. I’m an expert in avoidance, not confrontation.”
“No shit, Sherlock. I’ve been telling you this for years, at no charge.”
“Dr. Tucci also said I can’t move on with my life without some spring cleaning. Unclutter the mind, that’s how he describes it.”