by Jeremy Bates
Luke tackled her from behind. The impact with the ground blasted the air from her lungs. She skinned the palms of her hands and bit her lower lip. She tried to yell for help but choked on blood.
She rolled onto her back, gasping, struggling to free herself from beneath his bulk. He raised a fist. She shoved her hands into his face, pushing with all her strength. One of her thumbs found an eye socket. She dug it into his eyeball.
Luke cried out. Charlotte wormed out from beneath him and scrambled to her feet. Before she could flee, however, he snagged her hair and yanked hard. Her feet flew out from beneath her and the back of her head struck the ground with blinding force.
Blackness washed over her like a monster wave.
ONE YEAR LATER
Chapter 1
They were learning how to make Neapolitan-style pizza that evening.
The kitchen was warm and homely with brick walls and wood furniture and blue countertops. The seven students, including Charlotte, sat around a long rectangular table with their ingredients placed before them. The teacher wasn’t a personable Paula Dean or Jamie Oliver type. Her name was Lucinda, a robust Scottish woman with a perm that resembled a helmet and a front tooth that had decayed and turned a rotten gray. She was loud and crass and ran the workshop like a gastronomic boot camp, browbeating anyone who dared make a mistake. Nevertheless, she was funny too, and Charlotte was laughing with everyone else when she told one of the students that her pizza looked like it had been set on fire and put out with a golf shoe.
This was Charlotte’s third workshop since she’d arrived in Asheville, North Carolina, last month. Her plan was to take one a week until she knew Italian cuisine inside-out.
When Lucinda dismissed the class at eight thirty, Charlotte said goodbye to the other students and stepped outside into the pleasantly cool autumn night. Asheville has been called everything from a New Age mecca, to one of the most beautiful places in America, to the “New Freak Capital of the US,” courtesy of Rolling Stone magazine. Primarily known for its relaxed artistic community and panoramic mountain views, it was nevertheless gaining recognition for its burgeoning culinary scene, which was the reason Charlotte had chosen to do her masters of hospitality management at the University of North Carolina Asheville campus.
While heading down Broadway, trying to remember what time her first class at the university began tomorrow, a pair of hands clapped over her eyes. She froze mid-step.
“Guess who?”
She turned around. “God, Tony,” she said, touching a hand to her heart. “You scared me half to death.”
He grinned. “Who did you think it was?”
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Stalking you.”
“I thought you had something with your friends?”
“Dan’s birthday. We’re going to Off the Wagon. Your cooking school was on the way, so I thought I’d pop by.”
Tony was also enrolled in hospitality management. They’d met in one of their classes. He came late and sat beside her, then asked her out for a drink afterward. He had a dark, mysterious look with long black hair, brown eyes, and mocha skin. Thinking it wouldn’t hurt to get to know some people in her course, maybe start a study group, she accepted his invitation. After a few drinks, however, one thing led to another and she ended up back at his place. Fast forward three weeks and they were unofficially dating—unofficially because neither of them had brought up the topic of dating. They were friends who had sex every now and then, no strings attached. So far Charlotte was fine with that arrangement. She wasn’t ready for anything more serious.
“Dan…” she said, trying to put a face to the name. She’d only met Tony’s friends a few times.
“You don’t like him, remember?” Tony said.
“Was he the one who puked everywhere Monday?”
“And wiped his mouth on your shirt.”
“It was my jacket.”
“Yeah, I know, and sorry about that. He can be a prick sometimes. You want to come for a drink or two now?”
“So Dan can wipe his puke on me again? No thanks.”
“It’s early. He won’t be smashed for a good couple hours.”
“Sounds riveting, Tony. But I haven’t even looked at the readings I have for my classes tomorrow.”
“I haven’t opened a textbook all week.”
“I plan to graduate.”
“I’ll graduate. Don’t worry about that. I’m more of a crammer than a planner.”
They stopped at the corner to her street. “Give Dan my best wishes on his birthday,” she said.
“You free tomorrow night?”
She pretended to think about it. “I have this speed dating thing between six and nine. But after that…”
“Speed dating? Just get on Tinder.” He shrugged. “So how about dinner?”
“Sure. There’s a place called Eddie Spaghetti I want to try.”
“You and your Italian.”
“That’s the kind of restaurant I’m going to open.”
“Hey, I’m in on that too. We just need to round up a million bucks somewhere first. By the way, I’m going to be away this weekend. I gotta go to Charleston. My sister’s in the theatre company there. Her new play’s opening.”
Charlotte raised her eyebrows. “She’s an actor?”
“She prefers performer. She sings and stuff.”
“When are you coming back?”
“Sunday. Classes on Monday, right?”
“Well, enjoy,” she said, stepping close to him. “I’ll miss you.”
“Me too. You—I mean. I’ll miss you.”
They kissed for a good five seconds, and just as it was heating up Charlotte pulled away. She wasn’t going to make out in the middle of the street.
Tony said, “You sure you don’t want to come for a drink?”
“I really do have work to do. Tomorrow.”
“I’ll call you.”
Charlotte watched Tony cross Broadway, a pang of regret building in her chest. She knew Off the Wagon would be filled with attractive girls, and she almost changed her mind and joined him after all. But then he reached the far sidewalk, a bus grumbled to a halt in front of her, and the moment had passed.
#
Charlotte was renting a room in a two-story, mauve-painted townhouse on a gently sloping street lush with greenery. She’d chosen it because it was close to both the university and the cozy downtown center of Asheville. Also, it was clean, well-maintained, and her bedroom window overlooked a small wooded area. She shared the house with three roommates, all students. The two girls stayed at their boyfriends a lot, and the guy was always out at the bars, so she usually only saw them in the mornings getting ready for school. Thankfully, there were two full bathrooms, one on each floor, so there was never a queue to take a shower.
Standing in the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil in the kettle, Charlotte found herself once again thinking about Tony, wondering what he was doing right then. Knocking back beers and chatting up girls? Did he do that—chat up girls—when she wasn’t around? After all, they weren’t a couple. She’d been careful not to open up too much, get too cozy. She liked his company, but she needed her space too. So if the opportunity presented itself for him to take home some floozy tonight, would he oblige? She didn’t think so. At least, she hoped not.
Maybe she should stop being so aloof, she thought. Maybe it was finally time to move on from Luke. On one level she had. She’d never visited him in prison, and she’d returned her engagement ring. That had been six months ago. She’d mailed it to him in a padded envelope with nothing else.
So on that level—on severing ties—she had moved on. Yet emotionally she hadn’t. She still thought about him too much. She still hated the way she’d abandoned him. She still blamed herself for not doing more to help him.
She still wouldn’t allow herself to get close to someone else.
The kettle whistled. Charlotte poured the steaming water into h
er mug, stirred the peppermint tea bag with a spoon, then left the kitchen. She was crossing the living room, on the way to the stairs, when the front door opened and Rashid entered.
“Oh, hey, Charlotte,” he said, smiling at her. He was an Arab from Syria with fair hair and Nordic features. The navy three-quarter-length pea coat he always wore was draped over one arm. A beat up leather attaché case hung from his shoulder. “What are you doing home?”
“I live here,” she said.
“Right. I mean, you know, I haven’t seen you around much since you moved in.”
“I was at a cooking class.”
“What were you cooking?”
“Pizza. Learned how to make my own mozzarella cheese to boot.”
“You should make it around here one night.”
“Cheese?”
“Pizza. We’ll have a house dinner or something.”
“Definitely.” She continued to the stairway.
“Oh, hey,” Rashid said. “What’re you up to tonight?”
She touched the railing, looked back. “A bath, then schoolwork.”
“All right, sure.” He was scratching his head. “I’ll see you around.”
Charlotte climbed the stairs to the second floor, wondering whether Rashid had just asked her out in a roundabout way. It wasn’t so much what he said; it was the flow of the conversation. It had felt awkward, forced, like he’d been thinking about it before it happened.
She flicked on the light in her bedroom, grabbed a towel, then her bathrobe from the closet. In the bathroom she drew hot water for a bath, stripped out of her clothes, and lowered herself into the tub. She sighed half in pleasure and half in discomfort at the scorching heat and closed her eyes.
Someone knocked on the door.
Charlotte jerked upright, splashing water over the lip of the tub.
“I’m in the bath!” she said, hoping she’d remembered depress the button lock.
“Uh, someone’s here to see you,” Rashid said.
Charlotte frowned. She’d made a few friends so far, but nobody who’d drop by without forewarning. Not even Tony had been by yet. She always went to his place. She said, “What’s his name?”
“Didn’t ask. You want me to tell him to go?”
“No, I’ll be down in a sec.”
She climbed out of the tub and toweled herself dry. She left the water as it was, figuring she’d be back soon. Then she tugged on the clothes she’d worn earlier, glanced at her reflection in the mirror, and left the bathroom.
Halfway down the stairway to the first floor she hit an invisible wall.
No!
Chapter 2
Charlotte’s mind reeled. She was thinking this couldn’t be real, Luke couldn’t be standing in the foyer, looking up at her. Someone was playing a trick on her—only she knew it was real, he was standing there, it was no trick.
“Hey, Char,” Luke said in his deep, gruff voice. He was dressed in black jeans and a black pullover that covered his sleeve tattoos. His hair was longer than it had been before, scruffy. His skin was pale, but he was as lean and muscular as ever, and she had to admit he looked good, healthy. Nevertheless, that was a clinical observation. Charlotte didn’t feel nostalgia for him, nor attraction. She didn’t feel anything right then except a cold lump of fear in her throat.
What the fuck was he doing here?
“Luke?” she said.
“Surprise.” He opened his arms in a ta-da type of way.
Rashid, who was standing in the foyer next to Luke, frowned.
“Rashid?” she said, clearing her throat. “Can you give us a few minutes alone?”
“You sure?” But he was already heading to his bedroom, which was off the living room. “You need anything, I’m here.” He closed the door.
“Luke?” Charlotte said again, forcing a smile.
“I would have called,” he said. “But your number wasn’t working.”
“I lost my old phone.” That wasn’t true. She’d gotten a new number precisely so Luke wouldn’t be able to get in touch with her when he got out of prison. “How’d you know I left New York?”
“It’s not a secret, is it?”
“I’m just curious.”
“Your friends told me you were accepted to UNC. Congrats, by the way.”
Charlotte was livid. Which of her friends would tell Luke this? They all knew what happened on the Catskills trip. However, she kept her expression neutral. She had no idea of Luke’s state of mind, whether he was still a ticking time bomb, what might set him off.
“How did you—when did you get here?” she asked.
“To Asheville? This afternoon.”
“How—?” Her nice-to-see-you act crumbled. Her forehead creased. This was all too bizarre. “How’d you get this address?”
“The university gave it to me.” He took a step forward, and she resisted the urge to back up a step. “Look, Char,” he said, “we have some things to talk about. Can we sit down somewhere?”
Sit? I want you to leave. Go home! You’re not supposed to be here.
She said, “I’m heading out in a bit, to a friend’s birthday.”
“It won’t take long.”
Charlotte hesitated, then decided she didn’t have much of a choice in the matter short of throwing him out. “This way,” she said, descending the rest of the stairs. She led him to the kitchen and gestured at the table. He sat in one of the metal folding chairs. Charlotte couldn’t bring herself to sit across from him. It was too close. In fact, the entire kitchen seemed suddenly too small for two people. “Do you want a glass of water or anything?” she asked, an excuse to keep on her feet.
“Sure,” he said.
She took two glasses from the cupboard and filled them with water from a Brita jug in the fridge. She passed one to Luke, then leaned against the counter with the other.
“You don’t want to sit?” he said.
“I’m okay.” She sipped the water. “Luke—why are you here?”
He rolled his glass between his palms without looking at her. “You remember when we met?”
“Of course,” she said. They had been seniors in high school. She and her best friend had gone to a house party of an acquaintance. Halfway through the evening her friend abandoned her for a guy with a mouthful of braces. Alone, Charlotte was hit on by a few different guys before Luke gave it a shot. He went to a different school. Still, she knew who he was. She’d seen him around at dances and events. They ended up chatting all night, then for an hour the next day on the phone. By Monday afternoon they were dating.
“Jay’s party,” he said.
She nodded.
“We were a good couple,” he added. “Everyone thought so.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Look, Char,” he said, lifting his eyes to meet hers. “I never should have enlisted. I should have listened to you. I should have stayed with you.”
“It’s what you wanted,” she said.
“It’s what my dad wanted.”
“You could have told him no.”
“He’s a three-star general, Char. You don’t say no to him. I had to give the army a shot. Four years. It didn’t seem like so long back in high school.”
“What’s done is done.”
“I’ve changed,” he said. “I want to prove that to you.”
She was shaking her head. “Luke—”
“Hear me out,” he said. “When I came back, I was fucked, I know that. I wasn’t myself. And your friends—I can’t even remember doing what I did to them. It’s like I blacked out, or someone else had taken over.”
“You almost killed Emma.”
“And I turned myself in. I did the time. Ten fucking months in prison, two in the box. You know what solitary confinement’s like?”
“Why were you in solitary confinement?”
“Some bullshit reason,” he said dismissively. “Everything in prison’s bullshit. You look at a screw the wrong way, you’re fu
cked.”
“I’m sorry, Luke,” she said.
“I sent you letters,” he said.
“I got them.”
“Did you read them?”
“Yes,” she lied.
“You didn’t write back.”
“Luke—”
“But whatever. I understood,” he went on. “I fucked up. I scared you. You needed a break.”
“No, not a break, Luke,” she said, edging her words with something between frustration and anger. “It’s not a break. We’re done. I’m sorry, but I’ve moved on, and you need to too. I don’t know what else to say.”
Luke sat back in his seat. The metal groaned beneath his weight. “You’re not listening to me, Char.”
She glared at him. “You’re not listening to me.”
Something shifted in his eyes. It was there one second, then gone the next, like a blip on a radar.
She said, “I have to go, Luke.”
He stood. “I haven’t had a drink since that night.”
“Last I checked they didn’t have bars in prison.” She regretted the quip immediately. “I didn’t mean that…”
“I’ve been out for two weeks,” he said, “and I haven’t had a drop. I don’t need booze anymore. I’m different. You need to believe that.”
“I do,” she said, though she wasn’t sure she did. He might have learned to cope with his anxiety and depression and paranoia while in prison. But he wasn’t the Luke she had fallen in love with in high school, the Luke who had proposed to her at the top of Diamond Head in Hawaii. There was still that hardness to him he’d brought back from Afghanistan, that simmering anger, like he could snap at any moment. He was doing a good job masking it, but it was there. It’s what she’d seen in his eyes.
She glanced at her wristwatch. “I really have to go.”
“Nearly five years, Char,” he said, moving around the table toward her. “That’s longer than most people stay married for nowadays. You can’t throw it away. I want another chance. Just a few weeks, you’ll see.” He stopped before her, slipped his hand down the throat of his pullover, and produced a necklace. He snapped it free from around his neck with a quick tug and held it for her to take.