“And I’d do every night feed so I could cradle each of our children while I watched you sleep, and tell them how lucky they are to have a mother as precious and strong as you.”
A single tear dripped from my eyes onto Curtis’ chest and disappeared into the water.
I kissed his cheek and ran my hands over every inch of his body that wasn’t submerged in the water. “I’m going to give you that life.”
Curtis was sleeping when I climbed out of bed, closed the door with a soft click and went to the living area. I grabbed the wallet out of my bag, picked his iPad up off the sideboard and poured myself a glass of brandy before I curled up on the sofa and pulled the blanket over me. I sat with the internet open and stared at the screen. There were so many things I wanted to search, so many answers I wanted to find, but the tabs Curtis had open grabbed my attention first. Jesse Kennedy – the death of the Kennedy family, Arthur Kennedy a big name in the investment industry with questionable strategies. The news article, published in January, said the entire family had died in a house fire on Christmas Day. I remembered reading about it online. The article reported that Jesse had died with his family, but I knew that wasn’t right. When Curtis asked for him the other night, he spoke as if Jesse was still alive. He was lost and unstable, but he knew Jesse was alive and I would find him. I set the iPad to the side and took a sip of my drink as I pulled the wallet onto my lap and tipped out the contents.
I kept the images face down and looked at the documents. Newspaper articles reporting Oliver’s death. I read each one with a heavy heart and tears in my eyes as I relived that night all over again. Why would my father keep, and hide, the reminder of the death of his only son? Wasn’t the pain enough? There was nothing on the pages I didn’t already know. Oliver had been scheduled to fight Jackson Garrett and it was in Oliver’s favour until a slip of concentration led to the fatal accident. I hated that word, accident. No death was ever an accident and Oliver’s certainly wasn’t. It could have been prevented. I could have prevented it. As I read the final section on the last page of articles, I realised why I’d had such a bad feeling when Curtis mentioned buying himself out of trouble. Had Oliver won the fight, he would have won thirty thousand pounds, but whoever wrote the article had strong views on fighters’ insurance – that they should have a clause in their contract that meant they were insured should the worst happen. Oliver hadn’t won a penny by fighting and losing his life that night. Curtis had a contingency plan before we’d even become whatever it was we were back then. He had given me his money to leave. I tossed back my drink, trying to swallow down the nausea that crept up, and tried to stay focused. Curtis didn’t deserve to be punished; he’d suffered enough. He did what he thought was right. He wanted me to have a chance at a good life and I did. I got to spend five glorious years with Thomas and I wouldn’t have had that without Curtis.
We would have drowned each other if I’d stayed; he knew that then, and I knew it now. I kept telling myself that as I reached for the pictures and mindlessly turned them over.
A tormented scream tore from my throat and I threw myself forward, allowing a sob to rip through me.
Curtis shot out of the bedroom, ready to fight, and fell at the floor by my knees, pulling me into him without thought. I slid off the sofa and clung to him, clawing at his naked body – trying to climb inside him to rinse away what I’d seen.
Curtis hadn’t seen them and a distant plead for him not to look left my lips as he held me with one arm and reached for the pictures that were crumpled in my hands.
“Please, Curtis.” I sobbed and choked. “Please. Please, don’t look.”
The word please left me countless times as he pried my hands open and held the photos out of my reach. His body turned to marble and he shook from head to toe as he flipped through the four pictures.
He dropped his arms to the floor, letting go of me and dropping his head in defeat. I clung to him, desperately begging him not to leave me.
“He did this, didn’t he?”
He squeezed my cheeks in one hand, tipped my head back to look into my eyes and read the answer I couldn’t voice.
Yes.
Nineteen
Four disgusting images. Four images that would stay with me forever. Four images that ruined the tiny shred of hope I was clinging onto. Because evil did exist, it did, and I knew for certain because of the four thin scraps of paper I held in my hand that provided all the evidence I needed.
~Curtis~
Curtis moved from room to room with no purpose. His hands gripped his hair and he mumbled incoherent words to himself as he paced the apartment. I watched him stumble into the bedroom and charge across the living room to the kitchen. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Curtis come apart; I was still on my knees, a crumpled, broken mess on his living room floor.
“Go and take a shower,” he said, his voice laced with the familiar tone I’d heard only once before, when he sent me away.
“Curtis,” I started, shifting to face him as he stood behind me.
He held his hand out to put an end to any plans I may have had to move closer to him, “Just do it.”
I couldn’t stand, but I had to be strong. I couldn’t let Curtis bear the brunt of this on his own. I waited for him to disappear into the bedroom and I crawled to the bathroom. I peeled his t-shirt off my body and struggled to my feet to turn the shower on. I sat on the floor of the shower, bringing my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them.
I was numb.
How had I not noticed? How had I not known something was wrong? Oliver and I were one person; I should have felt his pain. I should have known what he knew and I should have accepted his death as a tragic accident. It wasn’t.
What were the pictures that were now engrained in my mind and would stay with me until I was six feet under, forever obscuring my vision to fill me with the guilt and disgust that Oliver had died and been forgotten, his death never investigated – his story never told?
They were pictures of my brother; comatose and lifeless during the last hours that he was kept alive. He had tubes in his nose and the tube of a ventilator in his mouth held in place with tape. He looked peaceful, like he was getting the sleep he desperately needed after he did everything he could to get us out of a life he knew about but kept from me. Three pictures of my brother in his final hours on Earth, powerless to stop the click of the camera and unable to cry for help and tell us what really happened to him. The pictures were a souvenir. A sick memento of a life that had been stolen.
My father killed Oliver.
How did I know this? The fourth and final condemning photograph. A picture of my father and Jackson Garratt in the locker room. Jackson was covered in my brother’s blood and my father was smiling with his arm around his shoulders.
The brandy surged up and out of my mouth, burning my throat and covering me with the well-deserved punishment for what I’d done.
My father killed my brother and he’d gotten away with it for eleven years.
Curtis entered the bathroom and stepped into the shower fully clothed, pulling my body into his. I sagged against him, unable to cry with the pain I deserved. I didn’t deserve redemption. I didn’t deserve sympathy or comfort. I deserved to be punished, like Phillip.
“I’m so sorry, Skillet.”
I said nothing. I stared blankly at the wall of the shower until the water ran cold and shivers wracked our bodies.
“We’re going to get him.”
“Geoff,” I muttered through chattering teeth. “We have to help Geoff first.”
A primitive sound of desolation left Curtis as yet another hurdle was placed in front of us. His fingers flexed into my back and I knew what he was thinking.
“We can't let him go through this alone. We have the power to help him and we have to try.”
“I know.” His hold softened and I took a lungful of cold air. “I know.”
“Come on.”
I stepped out of the sho
wer and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around Curtis’ waist. If there was ever a time when I knew the sacrifice would be worth it, it was now. When I was falling apart, Curtis held me together and when he was ready to fall, I was waiting to catch him. Every moment we were together, we saved each other. Being apart was not an option now, and it never would be. We were nothing without each other.
“What time is your appointment?”
“Ten.”
“Okay. So let’s get dressed and try and sleep for a couple of hours. We’ll go and get Geoff and do this together, okay? Always together.”
“I need you,” he confessed. He wrapped a towel over my shoulders and rubbed the top of my arms. “I hate to think what would happen if you weren’t here.”
“You’ll never have to find out.”
I dropped my gaze knowing I’d just made a promise I couldn’t keep.
We dried and climbed in bed, holding each other as the darkness began to lighten and night time began to morph into the incoming day.
“I can't close my eyes,” Curtis whispered, dragging his hands through my damp hair.
“Me either. I just don’t understand why.”
“I don’t know, baby. But we’re going to find out. For me, you and Ollie.”
“I have to tell you something.” I snuggled into his side and hooked my leg over his. “It might change your mind about me.”
He pulled me closer, “Nothing could change my mind about us.”
“I loved someone,” I confessed and took a deep breath. “I loved him so much, I would have done anything for him.”
“I know.”
“If he were still alive, I wouldn’t be here. We wouldn’t be here, like this. You’d be alone and I’d be happy.”
“I know.”
“But I think it’s okay. I think it’s okay that I love you, too. Thomas isn’t here and I know he would want me to be happy. I don’t want to be without you.” I sucked in a breath and the words rushed out in a panic. “I can't be without you. I love you, Curtis. I love you, too. I don’t know how I can love two people so much, so completely, but I do. I would lay my life down for you and never look back.”
“I know, baby.” He crept into the panic and brought unexpected comfort with him. “I know about Thomas. I’ve known about him for years.”
“But-”
“You were happy and you deserve to be happy. You deserve so much more than I can give you, but I can't let you go. I won't.”
I stared up at him in shock and brought my hand up to caress his cheek, running my thumb along his bottom lip. His teeth grazed the pad of my thumb, his tongue soothing with one gentle flick.
“Don’t let me go. Not ever.”
He kissed where his tongue and teeth had been and enveloped my hand in his before he settled them over his heart.
“I love you,” he said, resting his chin on my head so I couldn’t look at him. “But it’s more than that. Love is just a word.”
“So what is it, if it isn’t love?”
“Oh, it’s love. But love is a word that collects everything up so we can just use the one word to convey everything. Love isn’t a thing you feel. It’s everything.”
“Tell me about it,” I sighed, nuzzling into him. “Explain it to me.”
“It’s everything, Skye. It’s sunsets and apple trees, kisses and cuddles, night and day. It’s every one of your senses multiplied. You feel the other person; you taste them, see them, hear them, smell them, everywhere. Every day. Love is happiness and devotion, loyalty and trust, submission and control. It’s give and take; it’s danger, desperation and sacrifice. It’s never-ending, always changing. You become the other person. You need them to live. To survive. To win, to lose, to fight, and to know when not to. You need them to die. We can't die without loving someone because it’s all we’re ever searching for. Someone to tie ourselves to and to tie to us. Someone to live forever with so that when the time comes, we die with them and prove infinity. When two people really love each other, it never ends. Ever. And it’s possible to love more than one person…it’s possible to have two infinities.”
I froze, staring straight ahead with eyes that welled with tears but refused to release them. He had it; in a few minutes, and with a tone filled with the fear of rejection, yet breaming with certainty, he had it. He was right. I would have infinity with Thomas because he died knowing I loved him and he loved me. And I would have infinity with Curtis because we were about to fight for it.
“Will you do something for me?” I asked.
“Anything.”
“Will you close your eyes and dream of our happy ever after?”
He shifted; the pain of the torture he knew sleep would bring stiffened his body and set his heart racing.
“I can't.”
“Dream of our happy ever after, Curtis. I’ll close my eyes and do the same. We’ll meet each other there.”
I waited until he relaxed and we said nothing more. When his breathing slowed and calmed breaths left his lips, I closed my eyes and searched for infinity.
Twenty
Infinity. Did I really believe in it, or was I looking for something, clawing at anything that offered us light at the end of the tunnel? I didn’t know. For me, there was no light. How would there ever be a way out of this? I had no idea what our happy ever after looked like, or if we even had a chance of finding one.
I had to rely on infinity – that there was something beyond this miserable existence; this game of cat and mouse, fear and unknown factors that would ruin everything.
If I didn’t envision infinity?
All I saw was death. Death and the bars of what would be a lifelong home. A life sentence with no parole for both parties…only I had no idea which party we were part of.
I only knew we’d go down holding hands and clutching onto the madness that kept us alive. For now.
~Curtis~
“I’m not going.”
We were in Geoff’s office in the gym and he had his backside planted to his chair, with stubbornness set on his stubbly, tired face. Geoff had just refused to go to the consultant appointment with Curtis.
“Geoff,” Curtis sighed and began pacing the office with his hands locked at the back of his neck. “We can make you better. Why won't you consider this?”
“There’s nothin’ to consider, son.” He coughed into his hand and winced in pain. Curtis missed the simple display, too lost in his frustration to pay attention, but I caught it.
“It’s too late, isn’t it?” I asked, taking the seat opposite. “We’re too late, aren’t we?”
Geoff nodded, his eyes looking straight through me, as if he knew me. We’d explained who I was and Geoff wasn’t surprised to discover I was Oliver’s sister. I think, deep down, he knew all along.
“You’re just like ‘i'm,” he said, leaning forward to squeeze my hand. “This one-” he tipped his head toward Curtis, “-storms in with his fists up ready to fight. But you’re like Ollie. ‘E always looked beyond what ‘e saw.”
“I know.” I nodded, setting my hand over his and running my thumb over his paper-thin skin, the veins raised from the recent use of a cannula.
“You’re like yin and yang, you two.” He looked at me, but nodded towards a rapidly pacing Curtis.
I smiled tightly. I wasn’t the only perceptive one in the room.
“What are you talking about?” Curtis bit. “We’re talking about you and your treatment.”
“Curtis,” I chastised and the power switched. He was listening to me now and I turned to a stunned Geoff. “He’s tame. Explain it to him.”
“It’s done, son.” His voice squeaked as he looked at Curtis. “It’s over.”
“You’re giving up?”
Geoff shook his head. “There are some fights you just can't win.”
“Geoff, you can't give up. You’re a fighter, for fuck’s sake. If it means nothing physically, it has to mean something mentally.”
“I’ve been fightin�
�, Curtis.” He tried to clear his throat, but a hacking cough caught and he spun his chair away from us to grab a bucket.
I tried to pass a look of comfort to Curtis, but he was watching Geoff and working his fists by his sides. My heart broke for him, like it had done multiple times over the past few days, and for the last ten years. He was a lost little boy, afraid of losing the only father he’d ever known, and he was powerless to stop it.
“I’ve been fighting,” Geoff continued, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief and continuing like nothing had happened. “Since I was fourteen. I’ve been fighting for sixty two years. It’s time, Curtis.”
“No!” Curtis screamed and pulled at his hair. “No, Geoff. I won't let you do this.”
He turned around and threw the door open, knocking trophies and framed newspaper articles to the floor as he left.
“It’s okay,” I said to Geoff. “He just doesn’t understand what’s happening.”
“But you do.”
“I understand when it’s time to let go.”
I had to do it with Oliver, I’d had to do it with Thomas. I’d had to do it for myself.
“You’ll talk to ‘im? Make him understand?” I nodded. “I’m scared to leave ‘im.”
“I know.” I took his hand and passed him his glass of water. “I’ll take care of him.”
“I believe you sweet’art.”
“Will you negotiate a compromise with me?”
He nodded, with a glint of cheekiness in the grey eyes that were fixed on me. “I consider myself a reasonable man.”
He winked and I shook my head with a smile.
“What do you think of getting out of the city?”
His eyes lit up and his smile spread. “I could say goodbye to the city easily.”
Curtis was leaning against the side of the car with his head in his hands when I found him. I hooked my fingers into the pockets of his jeans; a small comfort, but one he accepted.
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