by Watson, Gina
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry, son.” His father’s eyes focused on Cash’s overly inked chest. As they made eye contact, Cash saw liquid pool in his father’s eyes. Saw him take in a deep, audible breath. His father whispered his name and reached his hand out to Cash’s shoulder, resting it there as the tears fell. “I was overjoyed that you returned. I never told you that.” He scrubbed his face. “I should have made the first move to attempt our reconciliation, but instead I chose to remain petty. I’m sorry. You’ve come so far, you make me proud.”
Cash was completely taken off guard. Was he dreaming? Were his twin brother and his father really here? Had to be dreaming. He closed his eyes. No, he’d wanted it too much and now it was here mocking him as a figment, a mirage. He pinched himself on the forearm and it stung. He opened his eyes and his father and Camp still stood before him. Why now? Why not back at the worksite where he could have been with Isa? He felt the resolve harden across his face and knew his father understood he’d probably just been defeated.
His dad’s head shook narrowly. He slumped and turned his eyes to the floor. “You’ve every right to hate me.”
Camp guided them both to the living room and bid them to sit. His father sat with his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. Camp cast wide eyes at him. Cash shrugged. He’d never seen his father in such a state. He could tell by the worry on Camp’s face that he’d never witnessed it either.
When he finally sat up, he scrubbed his face with his hand. “When I was your age, it had been said I did things my own way and would never use conventional methods. Everyone thought I was crazy, but I outbid them all using innovative solutions. At first I’d been a loose cannon—the word was that people would be crazy to trust me. But then I’d had a series of small successes and the stories started to change and the business started to grow.”
He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at Cash. “The same is true of you. The very same thing. I’d heard the stories all those years ago about your career choice. I’d heard the townsfolk joke and laugh at your expense. Then those stories started to change: Cash won the world series of poker; Cash has his own television show; Cash has a Gillette commercial; I saw Cash’s book at the store. I’ve been following your career using Google alerts. I memorized every win. I saved every television appearance on TiVo. I read both of your books. I can’t tell you the amount of pride I felt when I learned how successful you’d become.”
Tears flowed down his father’s face.
Cash was completely stunned. He’d thought his father worked hard to not think of him at all. Confusion, humility, rage, love, and hate coursed through his body until it left him numb.
“As your father, I will always want to protect you—even from yourself. While I’ve read all the good things about you, I’ve also read about your Vegas lifestyle, and I prayed every day that you would see your way safely home before…”
He gasped and wouldn’t finish. Cash stared. He could do nothing else. Who was this man?
“I’m sorry for the words I said at the office. I’ve seen your growth. I see you sober. I’m grateful that you have wrangled your demons. I know I went about it the wrong way, but I was only trying to make you understand, make you see so you wouldn’t forget and be drawn back in. It’s a constant battle. I know that.” He clamped one hand to Cash’s arm. “Anyway, I’m sorry. I was a fool. I love you. I tell everyone I know about your books and your shows and your big competition wins.”
Camp nodded as if he’d heard about them way too many times, “He does. To everyone.”
Cash listened as his father apologized. He wanted to believe him, but he’d always been so hard on him, so much more than the others. He couldn’t understand why. He’d never understood why.
Camp jumped up and went rummaging through the kitchen. Cash expected him to come back with beer and Oreos. Instead he handed him and their dad bottles of cold water. Cash was glad his brother was here. Had it just been his father at the door, he wouldn’t have answered. He suspected Camp knew that very thing and that’s why he’d accompanied their father on this journey.
His dad drew his attention again.
“When you started gambling and getting into trouble, I thought that was my punishment.” He stopped to drink some of his water.
“When I was a young man, before your mother came to save me, I’d been heavily into the gambling scene. That’s how I got into building casinos. But one day my luck ran out and I owed big. I didn’t have any way to pay, and the deadline I’d been given came and passed. They found me; they always do. I was left for dead.
Cash couldn’t believe his ears. His father had been a gambler. He’d thought his dad hated him but he’d been just like him as a young man, except that he’d lost. For some reason this negative lifestyle that they’d shared made him immediately respect his father more. Suddenly, he was interested to hear more.
It was your mother who saved me and took me to the hospital. I was in and out of consciousness for two weeks. I remember her face during that time. She worried and fussed over me. When I woke for good I asked her why she’d done it. She said she had a vision of us with many children, boys mostly, and a set of twins.”
Camp laughed, and Cash said, “Bullshit.”
“All true; you can ask her. I, of course, laughed it off, just like you guys just did. But she was serious. She borrowed the money from her father to pay my debts, and I swore I’d live the rest of my life making it up to her.”
God, with those words he thought of Isa and it made his head hurt.
His father stood. Then he unbuttoned his shirt, slid it down his shoulders and handed it to Camp. He removed the undershirt he always wore. When he finished he stood unmoving in front of Cash.
Cash couldn’t remember if he’d ever seen his dad’s naked chest. “Uh, Dad?”
His father slowly rotated and revealed his back. Cash gasped as he stared at tattoos very similar to the ones that littered his body. Tattoos of burning aces and poker chips, a roulette wheel, and one of all his children’s names.
“Dad, what is this?”
His father looked at Camp.
“Should I give you guys some privacy?” Camp asked.
Their dad shook his head. “Stay.” He turned all the way around, until he was once again facing Cash.
“I’ve been hardest on you because you are the most like me. I know your potential, the good and the bad. My tactics have been all wrong and instead of pulling you in, I’ve pushed you away. Turns out you’re a better man than me. You were able to get control of your demons and you alone are responsible for your success. I know we’ve been at odds for these past ten or so years, but please, let’s not make it any more.”
They embraced; Cash didn’t know which one of them moved first. But he liked it. Liked the strength of his father’s arms wrapped tight around him. Accepting him. Welcoming him. Tears rolled and washed away all that had been in the way. Washed away the bitterness that had colored all the good things Cash had earned.
Camp eventually joined them, laughing and making Cash laugh too.
His dad said, “If only our women could see us now.”
They laughed again, until they were nearly crying. Then Cash went light-headed.
“Isa! I’ve got to go to her.”
They raced for the airport.
An hour later Cash, Camp, and their father were waiting at the gate for a standby flight to New Orleans. Cash hadn’t been able to get Isa by phone, text, or email.
“We had plans,” he said. “We were going to the jazz fest. I got tickets to see one of our favorite artists, Bernard Larue. We saw him when we were students and took his CD home and made love to it all night. The symbolism of getting those tickets and planning that trip was huge. And I fucked it up.” Cash wiped at his face with his hand. “I don’t think she’s going to understand. I’d told her I wouldn’t run again, and yet I left with no explanation. Instead of turning to her, I cut and r
an. Again.” Cash shook his head. “Any way you look at it, this is bad.”
7
Isa exited the shower. She’d gone for a run to clear her head, but she’d had to cut it short; her breasts were bothering her. She thought maybe her period was ready to start, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Plus, her breasts didn’t usually get sore. They actually hadn’t been this tender since that time she’d been pregnant. She cupped them. They seemed full. And definitely sensitive.
She gazed down at her body and shivered. Then a thought landed in her mind. She rejected it right away. But when she felt the heaviness in her breasts, the thought jumped at her again.
No! It couldn’t happen again. It couldn’t. She started counting the weeks on her fingers. “Shit!” She dressed and grabbed her purse. She was on her way to the nearest drugstore.
Once she was back at home, Isa stood at the bathroom sink with one hand covering her mouth. She’d taken five tests, all in a row—boom, boom, boom, boom, boom. All the same. All positive.
She was pregnant with Cash’s child. Again. And he had abandoned her. Again.
She called her doctor and when she was insistent, she was told to come in, that they’d work her into the schedule so she wouldn’t have to wait until Monday.
In the waiting room she was surrounded by happy mothers with big round bellies and by memories. Memories of her belly swollen with Cash’s child. Memories of the birth. Memories of the moment they’d told her the boy was stillborn. Tears streamed down her face and neck. She’d done all that alone. She’d had no one.
She’d been so happy at the thought of having a bond with someone, even an infant. She was ecstatic, and so she’d powered through alone. Then she’d found out there would be no child. No infant to hold. No toddler to run after. No schoolboy to delight in.
After the birth she’d had to confide in someone and so she asked Camp for help. She’d sworn him to secrecy, and he’d promised he’d tell no one. To this day he had kept his promise.
The woman sitting next to Isa pulled a tissue from her purse and offered it to Isa.
“Thank you.”
The woman nodded. She probably thought Isa was suffering from wacky hormones. And maybe she was. But she was also suffering from the memories of what had happened and what would never be.
She had to wait almost an hour, but she was happy that her doctor had a half day on Saturday and could see her. Once she got in, the doctor told her she was eight to ten weeks along. Isa knew it had to be eight.
Knowing the history of the stillbirth, her doctor told her she would need to avoid stress. Her blood pressure had already increased from its normal rate, though Isa guessed part of that was due to her discovery that she was pregnant. The doctor suggested she eliminate all stressors if she wanted to have a shot at having a healthy baby. Isa tried to concentrate, but she missed half of what the doctor said.
“I’ll see you in two weeks,” she told Isa. “We’ll go over this all again.”
Driving home, Isa kept replaying the doctor’s suggestion—get rid of stressors. Once she got home, she didn’t get out of the car. Sitting in front of her rental home, she rubbed at her stomach. A handful of companies had headhunted her, and she still had their contacts. She could get away, find a new job. Find a job in a different town where no one knew her. Where she knew no one.
She wasn’t ashamed of being pregnant outside of marriage; she was worried that living in Whiskey Cove would harm her child. And if not that, would break what was left of her heart.
As she thought of the life growing inside her, she made a decision. A life-changing decision.
Isa called her mentor, who had a consulting business in Hattiesburg. She asked him if he had any positions. He had nothing permanent, but for her he would find something. He told her to come and she’d have work.
She went to bed that night amazed by everything that had transpired in the last day. She cradled her belly with her fingers and tried to silence her mind.
On Sunday morning, after she’d been packing for several hours, her phone vibrated again and again. It had been going off nonstop, alerting her to incoming calls, texts, and email, so she’d set it to vibrate. It was Cash. She knew it was. She also knew that if she spoke with him, she wouldn’t do the thing she was about to do. She needed a fresh start, untainted by past sadness. No matter what he had to say, she had to leave. She was glad he hadn’t gone years without calling her this time, but she had more than herself to worry about. She didn’t know why he didn’t just come by the house, but she hoped that he wouldn’t. She focused on packing and loading her car. She guessed it would be smart to keep the rental home for a while, in case things didn’t work out in Mississippi.
After she loaded the last of her bags in her car, she looked around her little house. She had written Cash a letter and dropped it in the mail. She couldn’t bear the thought of hearing his low, raspy voice, so she couldn’t call him. Wouldn’t call him.
She loved Louisiana. And more than that, she loved the St. Martins. She would miss all of them, but there was something she would miss even more.
In a second letter she would tell Camp to let Cash know about their son so at least someone would visit their child’s grave. So he wouldn’t be alone. So he wouldn’t feel abandoned.
Tears flowing unchecked, she set out for Hattiesburg.
8
Where is she?” Cash pounded on the table in the temporary office in Whiskey Cove. He was worried about Isa. Where had she gone? He’d been searching for her for several days, but had faced a brick wall of failure.
“Mail.”
The runner who worked on the building site dropped a few envelopes, picked up the outgoing mail, grabbed a doughnut, and was off again.
Camp started going through the letters. “Hey, Cash, it’s a letter from Isa.”
Cash jumped up and grabbed the envelope. He opened it with shaky hands and unfolded the paper inside.
Dear Cash,
When you read this, I’ll be gone. It’s my intent to stay away. I can’t go through this anymore with you. We were together for three years and it almost killed me the last time you walked out. I realize your leaving has nothing to do with me. And that’s the part that hurts the most, that you can just ignore me and leave. I could never do that to you. If it isn’t worth it to you to stay and fight or at the very least to include me so that I can go with you, then we have nothing. Please tell Camp to take you to 4045 North Street and tell him thanks for being a wonderful, discreet, and loyal friend. I will always love you.
Isa
“Shit! I have to find her.” Cash’s hand fisted in his hair. “Camp, what’s at forty forty-five North Street?”
Camp frowned and then his eyes widened. He turned anguished eyes on Cash.
“Camp?”
“What did she say?”
“For you to take me to North Street.”
“We need to take a ride.”
They loaded up in Camp’s truck and he drove quietly, somberly, and refused to speak.
When he drove into a cemetery, Cash thought he was making a stop related to the business. He turned back to the letter crushed tight in his hand, and he kept seeing the words, it’s my intent to stay away.
They drove deeper into the beautifully wooded cemetery with its pink azaleas and canopy of trees.
“Camp, what the fuck?” Cash pushed his hands to his face, trying to understand what Camp was doing. What Isa was doing.
Camp parked the truck and got out, still saying nothing. Cash watched him, finally noticing how stiffly his brother was moving. He walked up to a stone adorned with fresh flowers and a plush animal and pointed.
Cash got out and followed him. He bent down toward the headstone.
Our baby boy
Born to eternal life
We will always love you.
June 11, 2005
CGSM & IP
Cash lost his breath, then fell to his knees. He read the inscription over and
over, silently and then aloud. He must have read it twenty times. Then he went gravely still and quiet. He didn’t know how long he was there, but he welcomed the pain that throbbed in his knees. Finally he said, “How could you not tell me?” He started to cry and yelled, “How could you not tell me?”
Camp stepped closer. “She was pregnant when you left. No one knew but her. She didn’t plan on telling anyone. She was going to have the child and raise him on her own, but he was stillborn. She had gone through the pregnancy and the birth alone but when she called me, she said she needed my help with something she couldn’t do alone. She swore me to secrecy. I was worried about what she had to tell me, so I agreed. I didn’t know how to process what she was telling me. I just looked to her. She was so strong. She didn’t need me like she thought she did.” Camp swallowed audibly. “There was a ceremony. I stood by her side and bawled, but she never faltered. She did what she had to. That was when I realized women are far stronger than men.”
He closed his eyes.
“After that she and I became close friends. She’s loved you all these years. As she’s loved your son. She comes out and tends the grave weekly. Sometimes I come with her.”
Cash ran his shaking hand over the stone and then looked to his brother. “At least she had you. How can I ever repay you for what you’ve done?” Cash looked into Camp’s eyes and saw love. Simple, pure, and true love. Unconditional and forever love.
“Cash, you’re my twin. When you’re in pain, I’m in pain. Just take care of yourself. That’s all I want from you. It’s what I want for you.”
“I need to find her.” Cash would use everything at his disposal to get Isa back. Hell he’d kill if need be. He’d already hired an investigator. Had done that the moment he realized she’d left Whiskey Cove.