by Karen Cimms
“Do I know you from somewhere?” Janet asked as she entered the apartment. “I never forget a face, and yours is familiar.” She snubbed out her cigarette. When Kate didn’t answer, she shrugged. “So you got a cab waiting. What’s up?”
Kate cleared her throat. “We’ve met, only you told me your name was Jane. My name is Kate. Kate Donaldson.”
“No shit.” Janet dropped the cat. It landed with a thud on four paws and took off running.
Janet stepped into the tiny kitchen and helped herself to a beer. She popped the lid and surveyed Kate as she took a sip. “I knew you looked familiar. You still married to my son?”
It was possible she knew they were separated and had talked to Billy, but Kate nodded anyway.
“So to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I want you to stop blackmailing Billy.”
She cackled. “Blackmailing? Is that what he calls it?” She lit another cigarette, and blew the smoke away from Kate but glared at her all the same. “I call it helping his mother out. He’s worth millions. Throwing me a few bucks here and there isn’t gonna kill him.” She took a long drag. “You must be one greedy little bitch to begrudge me a couple bucks in my old age.”
For a woman, she had one hell of a set of balls. “Greedy? Me?” Kate almost laughed. “No, Janet, I’m not the greedy one. And it also wasn’t a couple of bucks here and there. We both know that.”
“So whaddaya want? He send you all the way down here to tell me he’s cutting me off? Is he afraid to come see me himself?”
“To be honest, I don’t think he thinks about you much at all, and I don’t blame him.” She almost choked on her own words. Being cruel wasn’t in her nature, and although this woman didn’t deserve any better, Kate still found it hard to be nasty. “Billy doesn’t know I found out about your little arrangement. I’m telling you myself, it’s going to stop.”
“Says who?” Janet asked, although she didn’t seem as smug as she had been a few moments earlier.
“I say. You’re going to call and tell him you don’t want any more money.”
“Ha!” she laughed. “And who’s gonna make me? You?”
“No. You’re going to do it on your own, and I’ll tell you why.” Kate opened her purse and removed a manila envelope.
“This is a cashier’s check for five thousand dollars. It’s yours if you call him right now and tell him you no longer want his money.” She watched Janet’s face. “Then apologize for taking it all these years.” The last part was unrehearsed, but Billy deserved it.
“What?”
“You tell him you don’t want the money, and you apologize.”
The face she made was almost comical. Kate continued, undaunted. “You might not care what I have to say, but I’m going to say it anyway.”
To her credit, Janet composed herself rather quickly. The look on her face told Kate she had no fucks to give.
“He isn’t worth millions. Far from it. Life has always been a struggle for Billy since long before I knew him, which I’m sure you’re well aware of, having played an important part in that. We carved out a little happiness for ourselves, and I’ve been blessed to have him in my life, but it was never easy. He’s been fighting demons all his life, and it’s time to put this one to rest. I understand he was paying to keep you away from our family. But the jig is up. You can do as I ask, and I’ll give you the five thousand as a final payment, and we’ll keep this between you and me. Or you can ignore me, and I take my five thousand home and tell him I know. Either way, it’s over. And you and Billy’s father will continue to stay away from all of us.”
She held up the envelope. “What’s it going to be? I have a cab waiting, remember?”
Janet snorted, dropped her cigarette into an ashtray, and went into the kitchen to retrieve her cell phone. She started to punch numbers into the phone, but Kate stopped her.
“No. I’ll dial. I want to know you’re calling the right number.”
Janet glared and handed her the phone. Kate set the phone on speaker, then punched in the numbers. She assumed Billy wouldn’t answer, and he didn’t. It was hard enough hearing his recorded voice. To listen to him live would have been unbearable.
She nodded at Janet after the beep.
“Billy.” Janet cleared her throat. “It’s your mother. Don’t send me any more money. I, um, I don’t really need it and I, uh, wanted to say . . . thanks for helping me out.”
Kate pictured Billy listening to the message and tried to imagine the relief he might feel.
“And Billy . . .”
She held her breath.
“ . . . I’m sorry. You were a good boy. You deserved better. Take care of yourself.”
Kate pressed her hand to her chest. She couldn’t have scripted it better herself. For a second, she almost felt bad for treating Billy’s mother so harshly. She was about to say so, but Janet cut her off.
“There.” Janet snapped her phone shut. The flicker of compassion she’d exhibited two seconds earlier was gone, leaving her dry-eyed and bitter.
Kate was stunned. “You didn’t mean any of that, did you?”
“You told me to apologize and I’d get the five grand. That’s what I did. Where’s my money?”
Maybe Billy had been right to do whatever he needed to keep his mother away from her and their children. “So we have a deal, then? You and his father leave him alone, right?”
“I’m a woman of my word. And as far as Bill goes, he died in prison twelve years ago.” She shrugged. “He finally pissed off the wrong person.”
Kate almost staggered under the weight of it all. Her old self wanted to express her sympathy, but the other self—the self who had spontaneously boarded a plane and flown halfway across the country on a whim—wanted to scratch the bitch’s eyes out.
What she actually did was hand Janet the check. “Don’t bother him again.”
Janet’s eyes grew watery. She blinked a few times. “I don’t think you understand how hard it’s been to keep a roof over my head. I don’t suppose you care how I’ll get by now without a little help.”
She didn’t know if Billy’s mother could sing, but her acting skills needed work. She took in the small, shabby apartment. “I hate to say this, but I don’t care how you’re going to get by. I really, truly don’t give a damn.”
With that, she walked out of the apartment and down the hall. The door slammed behind her, echoing through the empty corridor. She jumped but kept walking down the steps and outside to where her cab waited.
She climbed into the cab and collapsed against the seat.
“Oh my god.” She grinned at the driver in amazement. “That may have been the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it feels so good.” She held out her arms. “And look! My hands aren’t even shaking.”
“That’s good, I guess. I hope you didn’t go in there and kill somebody.” He sounded as if he was only half joking.
She couldn’t stop grinning. “No bodies, nope. But I may have finally put a ghost to rest.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Liz was dumbstruck when Kate told her about the spur-of-the-moment trip.
“That’s amazing!” Liz exclaimed. “Although personally, I don’t know that I would’ve given her any more money. But still.”
“I wanted her to apologize,” Kate said. “I know it won’t take away forty years of hurt, but it’s something. A little salve on a very deep wound.”
“Why was that so important to you?”
She struggled to find the right words. “Because he’s been hurt so much. There’s this deep, beautiful soul inside him, but on the outside, he’s hard and angry. He’s ready to strike out at anyone and anything before it can hurt him first. I think I might finally understand the drinking and the drugs. He was numbing himself, trying to get away from it. But every month, he had to sit down and write that check and be reminded that she was still hurting him. I couldn’t bear thinking of him like that. I wanted to make it go away.
”
Liz laced her fingers together and hooked them over her crossed knees. “Do you still love him, Kate?”
Tears welled up in her eyes. “Of course I do. I always will. Everyone should have that one great love, and he was mine. I can’t imagine ever loving someone like that again. I wouldn’t want to.”
“Why?”
Kate plucked a tissue from a nearby box. “First of all, I don’t think I’ll ever not love him. And second, a love like that is so encompassing it leaves no room for anything else. If the person loves you back, great, but if they don’t . . . It’s too painful.”
“I’d like to focus on that relationship as we move forward, as well as your relationship with your children. You need to find a way to interact with all of them that’s healthy for you. I think the time you’ve given yourself to heal has been good. I wasn’t sure about that at first, hiding from your problems, but it seems to have worked for you. But you can’t fully heal if you don’t face them. You can only go so far, and I think you’re getting to that point.”
Kate shifted against the cushions. Facing Billy’s mother had been easier than facing her children would be. She nervously clutched the tissue. “I know. I need to figure out how to fix things with Devin and Rhiannon, but Billy?” She wrapped her arms around her middle. “That scares me.”
“Do you think he would hurt you again? Physically?”
She shook her head adamantly. “Oh, no. Once he realized what he’d done—afterward, I mean—I’m sure it hurt him more than it did me. Maybe it still does. I think the fact that he did that to me, that he was capable of that kind of violence—even though I know it was the drugs—scared him. Although . . .”
She shuddered, remembering the night of Joey’s funeral when Billy had essentially raped her. “It was terrifying and awful, but I don’t believe he meant to do me harm.” She glanced over at Liz. “I know it sounds like I’m making excuses for him.”
“A bit. Why are you afraid of dealing with your relationship?”
For all the time she’d given herself to reflect, to grieve, to prepare, it was still difficult to put any of it into words. “I think that if I were to sit down with Billy face to face and tell him I’m ready to work on us . . . I think he’ll tell me it’s over. And while I know that here”—she pointed to her head—“I’m not sure I’m ready to accept it here.” She pressed an open palm to her heart. “He hurt me physically and emotionally. He cheated. He lied. He shut me out. He’s done things, I’m sure, I can’t even imagine. Yet the eighteen-year-old me still loves him and isn’t ready to let go, even though I know it’s time.”
She closed her eyes and pressed a finger under her nose. If she didn’t take a moment, she would start crying. Again. And she was so damn sick of crying.
“It’s as simple as that. I’m afraid if I see him, it will either be over once and for all or it won’t, and things will go right back to the way they had been. I can’t deal with either right now.” She opened her eyes. “I’m just not ready.”
“We’ll get there,” said Liz. “I have faith in you.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
It was hot and muggy, even with the breeze off the ocean. Kate spent most of the day standing in the pool up to her shoulders, her book propped open on the concrete surround. It was the only place she could find any relief. The house had no air conditioning. So far she hadn’t needed it, but the temperature was threatening to hit one hundred. On days like this, she was almost glad she’d cut off all her hair.
Jeff was visiting, and Harold had invited her to join them for dinner on his dock, where he’d turned his little fishing shack into a tiny, self-contained, open-air apartment of sorts. There was a refrigerator and a microwave and even a futon for sleeping when the hot, humid air in the house was too much. There were picnic tables on the deck, giving it the appearance of an outdoor dockside restaurant.
“This corn is pretty good,” Kate said, helping herself to a second ear, “but when Tommy comes this weekend, I’m going to ask him to bring some Jersey corn and tomatoes. Then you’ll see what really good corn tastes like.”
“Do they have lobsters in New Jersey?” Harold asked.
“Of course they do,” Jeff answered.
“I’m not talking to you.”
Kate made a face. She could see Harold’s point coming from a mile away. “Yes, they have lobsters.”
“Maine lobsters?”
“Yes.”
He seemed satisfied that New Jersey imported its lobsters from Maine but Mainers had their own corn, or something to that effect. She just shook her head.
A motorcycle roared up Spurwink Road.
“That’s Shane,” she said, addressing Harold’s scowl. “It’s his father’s. He’s probably visiting his grandmother. He’s working days during the summer, so he comes in the evening.”
“Damn hippie,” Harold muttered.
“He’s a nice boy. He’s been a lifesaver for me.”
“I’ve met him,” Jeff said. “He’s a nice young man, Dad.”
“Humph,” was all Harold said.
She finished her corn and wiped her hands on a paper napkin. “I have some news.”
Jeff set down his lobster cracker, while Harold tipped his head back to drain the liquid out of a large claw.
“I went to the Portland Resource Center the other day and filled out an application to volunteer. I got a call today. I’m going to work in the kitchen a couple of days a week.”
Harold scowled. “Good timing. Go work in a hot kitchen as soon as the temperature hits a hundred.”
“I think that’s wonderful,” Jeff said.
“You would.” Harold grabbed another ear of corn. He reached for the butter, but Jeff snatched it away.
Harold glared at his son, then at Kate. “That’s not the best neighborhood, you know. You think about that?”
“There’s lots of parking nearby.”
“Of course there is,” he argued, “because no one can afford a car. They just steal from the fools who park there.”
“Dad—”
“No.” Harold slammed the corn onto his plate. “You really think she should go downtown where all those immigrants and refugees are? It’s not safe.”
Kate’s chest tightened. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea.
“I’m sure it’s fine, Dad.” Jeff’s voice carried a note of warning.
Harold shook his head. “The only way I’m going to allow you to go is if I drive you and pick you up. Case closed.”
“What?” she gasped.
“Dad!” Jeff said, loudly. “You can’t tell her what to do.”
“I’ll say,” she said.
“Case. Closed!” Harold rose and scraped his lobster shells and corn cob into a small trash can. “When do you start, and what time do we have to be there?”
Kate’s mouth opened and closed several times. She looked at Jeff for help, but he also seemed speechless.
“You look like you’re trying to catch flies,” Harold said. “I asked you a question.”
She crossed her arms and glared at him. “I don’t believe this.”
“Believe it.” He took a sip of his beer.
Kate took a healthy swig of her own.
The conversation evaporated, but tension remained high. The only one unfazed was Harold, who helped himself to a second lobster.
“Kate!” a voice called. Charlie bolted up the stairs.
“Damn it,” she yelled after him.
“Is that Shane?” Jeff asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“Kate! Are you down at the dock?”
“Oh my god!” She scrambled up from the picnic table. “It’s Tommy. I thought he wasn’t coming until Saturday.”
She cupped her hands and called.
“C’mon down.” She waved excitedly when Tom appeared at the top of the steep stairway. “It’s okay, isn’t it?” asked Harold.
He pushed up from the table. “I’ll throw another lo
bster in the pot.”
Tom gingerly picked his way down to the dock. “Wow, those are some stairs.”
She threw her arms around him and gave him a long squeeze, then stood back to look at him. “I thought you were coming Saturday.”
“And miss your birthday?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m ignoring that this year. Remember?” She kept her voice low, hoping neither Harold nor Jeff had heard him.
“When’s your birthday?” Jeff asked.
“Friday,” Harold answered from the window of the dockside kitchen. “Lobster?” he asked, looking at Tom.
“Well, I did stop at Burger King on the turnpike.”
Harold made a grumbling sound, which meant Tom would be eating lobster shortly. Kate pulled a Shipyard ale from the cooler and handed it to him, then went into the little kitchen to melt more butter.
“You know, I’m perfectly capable of driving myself to the resource center tomorrow,” she said, her voice low but firm. “This is a big step for me. I appreciate your concern, Harold, but this is certainly a decision I can make on my own.”
“Not gonna happen. Do you think he wants one lobster or two?”
Kate dumped a stick of butter into a bowl and popped it into the microwave. She slammed the door shut, a lot harder than was necessary. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”
“I certainly do.”
Both Harold and Tom drove Kate to the resource center Tuesday morning. She sat in the back seat muttering all the way to Portland.
“You know what they say about people who talk to themselves, don’t you?” Harold asked after a while, watching her from the rearview mirror.
“That they have high-handed friends?”
Tom laughed but didn’t turn around. When Harold pulled up in front of the building, he asked if she would like him to walk her inside. She flashed him a dirty look.
“I’ll be back to pick you up around two,” he said. “Have a nice da—”
She slammed the door and headed toward the entrance. They were still there when she reached the building, waiting for her to enter before pulling away. She walked back to the car.