I rush over and put my hands on Nick's shoulders, pulling him and getting nowhere. “Stop! Don’t get into trouble. Not over this guy.” My voice shakes.
“He was going to hurt you.” Nick’s teeth are clenched.
More grunts from Michael as he puts up a useless fight.
I move so I’m beside Michael on the wall. I search for Nick's gaze, but he won't look at me.
“Nick, you have to stop.”
Finally he drags his gaze to meet mine. His eyes are wild.
“Let go,” I plead.
He drops his arm and takes a step back.
Michael doubles over. His loud gasps are a soundtrack to this awful scene.
Oh no. My stomach. So sloshy. I bolt to the bathroom and barely make it to the toilet in time. My head spins and my body heaves.
Reality creeps in as the contents of my stomach empty, over and over.
I’m out of control.
I feel my hair being picked up in sections. Nimble fingers gather it and wind an elastic around the thickness. A cold cloth falls over the back of my neck.
“Is he gone?” My tiny voice trembles.
“Don’t worry about that asshole,” Nick growls.
He brushes the little hairs from my forehead. His touch is gentle compared to the angry tenor in his words.
I vomit again. I’m mortified.
After it’s over I gingerly scoot away from the toilet and lean my head against the wall. I’d really love to press my cheek against the cool tile on the floor, but apparently I have a few shreds of dignity remaining.
I open my eyes a tiny bit, hoping Nick isn’t looking my way. I meet his blue eyes. Crap. My face flames with embarrassment.
His mouth twists into a small smile. “You’re blushing.”
My head bends toward my knees. “You would be too if you’d just puked in front of me.” My response is muffled.
“How about tomorrow night I get really drunk and throw up? Then we’ll be even.”
I groan. “No thanks.”
“Here.”
I look up. He’s holding out my toothbrush, loaded up with toothpaste.
I thank him and take it, but I feel like a supreme idiot. After a minute he helps me stand so I can spit and rinse. I’ve officially spat and puked in front of this man. Maybe I should just pee in front of him right now and cap off this fantastic night.
I wipe my mouth and see my reflection. Messy ponytail, courtesy of Nick. Mascara starting to run. Skin pale from vomiting. And I’m still in the lame school girl outfit.
“I’m going to change into pajamas. Stay here. I’ll just close my closet door.”
When I come out, I feel a tiny bit better. My overhead light is off, and the lamp next to my bed is switched on.
Nick’s sitting on the end of my bed. His shoulders sag. I’ve disappointed him again. He's only trying to keep up his end of an agreement, and I'm making it nearly impossible. I'm sure he wonders why Ethan loved me so much. I want to tell him about how I used to be a whole person. I promise Ethan had a reason for loving me.
My bed shifts when I sit next to him. I twist my hands in my lap. “I’m sorry about tonight. I want you to know, what happened with Michael… I’ve never brought anyone home with me before. I didn’t even invite him in. I was just too drunk to realize he was following me.” It’s vital that he know this. If Nick thinks this behavior is the norm for me after Ethan died… It couldn’t be further from the truth.
Nick doesn’t look at me. He runs a thumb across the top of his left hand, over and over. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” he finally says. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a physical altercation.”
I frown. It didn’t look like it. Michael wasn’t a small guy, but Nick handled him with ease. He looked frightening. Intimidating. Michael's the only person I’ve ever heard gasp for breath.
Not including myself. I push the thought out. I don’t want to remember the morning after Ethan died.
“Thank you. For getting Michael off me.” My face burns red. I can’t believe I got myself into that situation.
“He was forcing himself on you.” Disgust twists Nick's face. “What kind of guy does that to a girl?”
A tear rolls down my cheek. It drips off my jaw and disappears into the cotton of my pajama pants. “I’m so thankful you came in and stopped him. If you hadn't…” I pause, cringing. It’s too easy to picture Michael’s face coming toward me.
Nick shudders. “Listen, I’m not trying to tell you what to do. You get enough of that from Harper. But do you ever think about getting over Ethan?” Nick turns and shifts his leg on the bed so he’s able to face me. He looks unsure of himself. Unsure of my reaction.
I laugh once, without mirth. “You know, I really hate that term. How am I supposed to ‘get over’ Ethan? Like the love of my life is someone I should just forget about?” More tears roll down.
Nick stares at me, his own lower lip trembling.
“Have you ever loved someone so much that you knew your soul loved them too? Not just your heart, not just your brain, or your body? Your soul?” My shoulders move with my sobs.
Nick shakes his head slowly. “No.” He chokes on the word.
“That’s how I loved him. Then it was all ripped away. Suddenly. I'm in love with someone who’s not alive to love me back.” I clutch at the skin above my heart. “Inside my chest is a heart that beats and loves and aches for someone who’s not alive. How am I supposed to get over that? How?” I stop to gulp in a breath. My face is wet and I don’t have a tissue and I don’t care. I’m saying words I haven’t said to anybody, and I feel so free.
Nick folds me into his arms. His grip is tight, and I feel tiny. He’s so warm.
I sit in the circle his arms make and let myself be consoled. Seconds, minutes, maybe hours go by. I don’t know. All I know is that I’m crying, and so is he. Unlike me, he’s quiet. Small, muffled sobs into my hair.
At some point I feel Nick shift and lift my body. He sets me down in my bed and pulls the covers around me. Our eyes meet once, briefly. He turns around and leaves my bedroom.
24
Nick
I lost my temper tonight. In front of Kate, no less.
That guy deserved what he got, and maybe even more, but I hate that it was me delivering his punishment. I’m not that guy anymore. Those days are behind me. Or so I thought.
I saw him manhandling Kate, his hands squeezing her cheeks, and the terror in her eyes. After that it was only rage and action, my arms working independent of rational thought.
Apparently elapsed time between fights doesn’t matter, because I went right back into strike mode like it hadn’t been years since the last one.
And, just like before, the sudden flow of adrenaline has left me famished.
I’m driving now to the all-night diner I found during my shift yesterday. We were on our way back to the station after transporting a kid who passed out at school to the emergency room, and I spotted the diner on the corner. It reminded me of my favorite place back home, and its sign clearly stated, If you’re awake, we are too.
I’d tucked that little piece of knowledge away, not knowing I would need a middle of the night reprieve so soon.
My thumb taps the steering wheel in time with the music coming from the radio, and I think about Kate.
She kissed me tonight. My chest constricts as I think about her lips on mine, the way she bit my lower lip, how she paused just before she reached her destination, her breath hot on my cheek.
But it was a kiss not meant for me. The intended recipient was Ethan, as messed up as that sounds.
I didn’t know it at first. I actually thought she was kissing me. But then she dropped her nose to my neck and breathed deeply, and her body that had melted into my arms suddenly solidified.
That was when it hit me, and I felt as stupid as stupid gets.
I was kissing Kate. Kate was kissing Ethan. Not me.
It stung.
And my reaction was more confusing than anything else. Since when do I like Kate like that? I mean, yeah, she’s attractive. Anybody with eyes can see she’s beautiful. And she’s a good person. And she’s way funnier than she gives herself credit for. When she makes a joke, her eyes crinkle at the corners while the rest of her face remains stoic. She’s so nice. Maybe even too nice. I wish she’d let out all that pent up anger, maybe even direct it at the people in her life who deserve it, like Harper.
Tonight, though, she wasn’t afraid to tell me like it is. She let me have it at that dumb costume party Harper dragged us to. Was it because she was well on her way to being drunk? Probably. But it means she’s comfortable enough with me to show me the parts of her she hides from nearly everyone else. Starting with her temper.
Deep down, a fire burns in Kate.
Shit.
Maybe I do like Kate. More than I thought I did. More than I should.
She was Ethan’s girl. I can’t have feelings for her.
I park and walk in to the diner. A woman dressed in a white button-up with an apron bends over the counter, propped up by her elbows. She sets down the paperback she’s reading and eyes me.
It takes her less than two seconds to decide I’m not going to give her trouble. My guess is that in a job like this, at this time of night, she’s no stranger to drunks and plain old assholes.
“Take any seat you like,” she calls out, waving her hand around the place.
The only other customers are a guy with long white hair gathered into a ponytail who sits at the far end of the countertop, and a couple in a corner booth, their backs facing the rest of the room.
I choose a seat away from both parties and nod when the server sets down my menu.
“What can I get you to drink?” She peers down at me, and now that she’s closer, I can see that she resembles my mom. Same dark hair and strong cheekbones.
“Water and decaf coffee, please.”
“On it’s way,” she tells me, leaving the booth and swinging around the counter. In a moment I hear the crack of ice and the clinking together of glasses.
By the time she sets down the cold water and hot coffee, I know what I want.
Setting one hand on the back of the booth beside my head, she tips her chin up and asks, “What are you eating at two o’clock in the morning?”
“A BLT with avocado and fries,” I answer. She nods and walks away, writing down the order on a pad as she goes. Once she gets behind the counter again, she passes it through the window to a grubby looking cook. He glances my way, so I raise a hand and wave.
His only response is a slight nod of his head, but I’ll take it.
When my coffee is nearly to the bottom, the server, whose name I don’t know because she never told me and she’s not wearing a name tag, comes over to refill my cup.
“You look like you need to talk,” she says as she pours.
“Is that right?” I look up at her. Her shirt has some kind of smeared food in a spot just beyond where her apron covers. Ketchup, maybe?
“I’ve been at this a long time, and I know when someone is full of something they just need to say. They just have this look about them. And you”—she eyes me—“you have that look.”
I take a sip of the burning hot coffee and nod. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
She slides into the seat across from me and folds her hands on the table, her gaze expectant.
“What about your other guests?” I look over at the man, then at the couple.
“That’s Richard. He’s been coming in a few times a week for the past ten years. He can refill his own coffee if I’m not there to do it. And that couple paid an hour ago. The last time I went over there, their hands had disappeared under the table, so I’m not going over there again.”
I chuckle and run a fingertip over the rim of my coffee cup. “Probably a good idea.”
“So?” She adjusts her seating and leans forward on her elbows, waiting for me.
“The story isn’t exactly a happy one,” I warn. It’s only fair to let her know what she’s getting herself into.
“You wouldn’t be here at this time of night if it was,” she counters.
I smile at her honesty. “What’s your name?”
“Glenda, like the good witch.”
“I’m Nick.”
She lifts up off her elbows and extends a hand. We shake and she sinks back into her previous position. It’s clear she has spent a lot of nighttime hours resting her elbows on countertops.
I open my mouth and start the tale from the beginning. “I just got out of a four year stint in the Army. While I was in, I met another soldier who became my best friend. My brother, really. And he had a girl back home.” Kate’s face flashes through my mind. “We made an agreement, if something were to happen. I would take care of his girl and he would take care of my mom.”
Glenda’s eyes fill. “Let me guess. You’re here to take care of his girl.”
I nod. “I’ve made a life here, too. I have an apartment and a job. I’m starting school in a few months. But I came to help his girl. Her name’s Kate.”
“And now?” Glenda leans forward, encouraging the rest of the story from me.
“It’s not as cut and dry as I anticipated. I thought I was stepping into a situation with clear cut lines.” I shake my head and sigh. “The lines are a mess. It’s like tangled up Christmas lights. Kate’s in terrible pain, and I’m trying to help her through it like I promised I would, but she’s not making it easy.” She was so angry at me tonight, before she kissed me.
“Grief can be crippling.” Glenda says it like she knows what she’s talking about. “In my experience, most people who are grieving want to be helped. Nobody likes feeling like their body is hollow. Whatever you’re doing, just keep doing it. She’ll come around.”
A bell dings, and the cook bellows, “Order up.”
Glenda rolls her eyes and unfolds herself from the booth. “I cannot figure out why he feels the need to yell that when nobody is here.”
She walks away and returns with my food.
“Eat up,” she says, sliding the plate on the table in front of me. “A full stomach improves almost every situation.”
I tuck into the sandwich and consider Glenda’s words. Kate loved to cook, but she hasn’t done it since Ethan died. Could that be it? An inroad to the old Kate, the one being crushed by a mountain of grief?
An idea blooms in my mind, and for the first time I feel hopeful.
25
Kate
I groan and roll over in my bed, pulling my pillow on top of my head. My eyes hurt. So much crying last night. Eight hours ago.
Like a freight train the memory of kissing Nick slams into me. I thought if I lost myself enough, I could find Ethan.
But Ethan wasn't in the kiss.
And he's not in a bottle.
He isn't anywhere.
He's never been further from me.
Sobs wrack my chest. I press my fist to my mouth, afraid of the sounds I'll make if I allow any sound at all.
My body gives out eventually and I close my eyes. I'm spent.
***
I awaken again to the sound of my curtains scraping across the rod.
“Why do you have a pillow on your head?” Harper snatches the pillow away. The harsh sunlight assails my eyes.
She squints down at me. “Why are your eyes red? Were you lying here crying?” Her words come with a trace of disgust, like lying in my bed and crying is a heinous crime.
“What's that?” I point at the drink in her hand.
“Your breakfast. Or lunch, I guess. It's late.”
I sit up and take the smoothie from her outstretched hand. “Thanks.”
“Someone left you a note.” She picks up a small piece of ripped paper off my nightstand and flips it over.
I hold out my hand.
Instead of giving it to me, she reads it. “Fight. Be meaner than your demons.” Her eyebrows draw together.
“Who left this for you?”
“Nick, I'm assuming.” I push my hair out of my eyes. “No one else was here.” Except for that d-bag Michael. I remember his hot breath so close to my face and shudder.
Harper nods slowly, once. “Now at least I know where he went running off to in the middle of our conversation.”
“He ran out on you at the party?” I hadn't considered how he came to my rescue last night. I was just grateful.
“I was putting all my signature moves on him when he yelled, 'Where are Kate and that guy?' He looked around and ran out the front door.” She sticks out her lower lip like a three-year old who has been denied ice cream. “He didn't even say goodbye.”
“Oh.” I'm not sure what to say. Thank goodness he went looking for me. Last night I was profoundly naïve. Profoundly stupid.
She re-reads the words on the paper and hands it to me, then turns around and goes to my dresser.
“Is there something going on between you and Nick?” She asks the question with her back to me.
Shock rolls through me. My mouth opens and closes. Opens and closes. Did he tell her about last night?
“What? I…uh…no.” I shake my head so hard, my hair swings into my face. Then my head pounds.
Harper pokes through my jewelry box on my dresser. “Crazier things have happened.”
She's going to see my blush if she turns around.
I go to my bathroom and turn on the water. “Ethan asked him to look out for me. That's all.” The cool water I splash on my face tempers my heated cheeks.
“Good,” Harper says. She sounds satisfied. “Because I want him for myself.”
My insides recoil at her words.
“He's all yours.” I dab my face with a towel.
“Perfect.”
I return to the bedroom, grab my smoothie, and drink.
“Do you want to hike Camelback?” Harper asks. “Show that mountain who's boss?” I realize Harper’s wearing work-out clothes.
“I don't know if I'm ready to be on that mountain yet.”
The Day He Went Away Page 18