Saint Nicholas

by Jamie Deschain

“Isn’t it always?” he joked, trying to lighten my mood.

  I stared at him, lips pursed tightly together. It had only been a few months since we’d been living together, even though we’d made amends years earlier, and my mind flashed back to that day, if only for a brief moment.

  My father sitting across the table from me while Carter held my hand. He said all the things I wanted to hear—that I needed to hear. He was sorry, he was ashamed, he was devastated.

  I, in turn, told him all the things I needed to say. How much I hated him, how much I wished over the years that he was dead, how I thought it was best if he’d just stayed gone from my life. I said it all through a mess of tears and sobs that cleansed me, and when I was done, I looked him in the eyes and told my father that I forgave him for everything.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I can tell you’re hurting. I’ll go back to bed.”

  He got up and placed a solitary hand on my shoulder. I instinctively reached up and took it, patting his fingers. “Thanks.”

  I felt bad for not wanting to open up to him, but I couldn’t. Not now, and maybe not ever. We were living together, but that’s as far as it went. Our relationship was still one of getting to know each other again, and there was a barrier there that for all the dinners we shared and nights we spent sitting on the couch watching TV, just wouldn’t come down; and even with knowing he’d be gone soon, it didn’t make the process any easier or quicker. I didn’t know if I wanted it to. I may have forgiven him, but I’d never forget.

  I got up and grabbed a bottled water, uncapping it and guzzling it in long, slow swallows. My cell rang and I immediately picked it up.

  “Carter!”

  “Hey, Sarah,” he said groggily. “I got up to pee and saw you called. Everything okay?”

  “No. Not even close.”

  “Talk to me,” he said.

  I sat back down on the couch and proceeded to tell him everything about what happened with Nicholas tonight. For half an hour I spoke, and by the end of it I had to get another drink because my throat fell raw.

  “Wow,” he said. “That’s a lot to handle.”

  “You’re telling me. What do I do?”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “Honestly? I want to stick a needle in my arm and make it all go away.”

  “You know that’s not the answer.”

  “I know that, but that doesn’t make it feel any less like a good idea.”

  “C’mon, Sarah. You’re better than that.”

  “Am I?”

  “You’re one of the strongest women I know. Look at how far you’ve come. To throw that all away over some guy, it’s not worth it.”

  But Nicholas wasn’t just some guy. He was the guy, and the more I thought about him and what we’d just gone through after being apart for seven years, it made my heart crack open.

  I wiped my eyes, nodding even though Carter couldn’t see me. “Yeah,” I whispered. “You’re right.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  A laugh escaped me and I smiled, feeling less of a need to poke myself with a needle.

  “That’s better. You need me to come over?” he asked.

  “No, but thank you. I’m just going to lie down and get some sleep.”

  “Good idea. I’ll call you tomorrow, or later today, or whatever. Love you, girl.”

  “Love you, too.”

  I put my phone on silent and laid down on the couch. I didn’t have the energy to make it to my bed, so I just stared up at the ceiling for a while, thinking about Nicholas, until my lids felt heavy and sleep won out over all the confusing thoughts that were running through my mind.

  TWENTY-TWO

  - Nicholas -

  I felt like an asshole the entire week following our night in the diner. Knowing I’d upset her, upset me, and the reaction that I’d had toward everything made me want to throw up. I’d fucked things up this time, became someone I didn’t want to be, for no other reason than not being able to deal with the anger and hatred I felt toward her father. I’d tried to see it her way, but for the life of me I just couldn’t figure out how she could forgive him after all that he’d done.

  God, if I lost her again, I don’t know what I’d do.

  But I resolved myself not to become that person once more, so instead of spending my time wallowing in self-pity and heartache, I thought of ways I could make it up to her. By the end of the week I thought I had a pretty good plan put together to show her I was sorry and that I’d do anything to make it right, but a knock at my door on Friday evening sort of threw a wrench into things.

  I got up from the computer, weary of who it could be. I didn’t get many visitors, and there was a sign outside that said No Solicitors. I looked through the peephole, but whoever it was had their thumb covering the lens so I couldn’t see anything.

  I disengaged the lock and cautiously opened my door a crack. Standing in front of it was this short, blonde guy I’d never seen before wearing skinny jeans and a red, button-up dress shirt. He was as thin as a pipe cleaner and looked as equally harmless.

  “You Nicholas?” he asked.

  I opened my door, towering over him. “That’s right, who are you.”

  “This is for Sarah.” He slapped me hard across the face, sending me surprisingly back into my apartment, which he entered without an invitation.

  I raised my finger and rubbed the side of my cheek. “Carter, right?”

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know who I am,” he said, spinning around while his eyes flirted back and forth over my apartment. “Sarah told me everything, and you have a lot of explaining to do.”

  “Forgive me, Carter,” I smirked, “but whatever’s between Sarah and me is none of your business.”

  “None of my business? Oh Saint Nicholas, you have no idea just how much my business she is.” He took a seat on my couch, and when it was obvious he wasn’t going to go anywhere, I sat next to him, grinning.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked defiantly.

  “Nothing’s funny. It’s just—it’s just nice to know Sarah has someone looking out for her.”

  His features softened and he nodded. “I’d do anything for her, which is why I’m here.”

  “What do you mean? How did you even find out where I live? All she knew was Brooklyn.”

  “It wasn’t hard. Mediocre writer with a Facebook page, you can find anything on the Internet once you put your mind to it, as I’m sure you know.” He cocked an eyebrow in my direction, referring to the way I’d found Sarah.

  “Yeah, I know. What’s going on, is she okay?”

  “Okay? She’s a mess. She called me that night after the diner when you so expertly botched things up, crying and scared that she was going to stick a needle in her arm.”

  “Jesus Christ. Did she?”

  He slapped me upside the head and I winced. “No she did not. Shame on you for not having faith in her.”

  “Okay, you’re going to have to keep your hands to yourself from now on, deal?”

  He eyeballed me from head to toe, taking me in, which made me feel just a little uncomfortable. “I’ll try,” he said, “but it’s not going to be easy. Sarah was right, you are a specimen.”

  “She said that? What else did she say?”

  “Hold on. First of all, I want to know why you said what you said to her.”

  “What do you mean? Because I was angry.”

  “At her or her father?”

  I thought about it for a moment, and answered, “Both.”

  “Understandable, but have you tried to look at things from her perspective?”

  “Carter, bro, I’ve been trying all week. It’s hard. You weren’t around when we were kids. The stuff he did to her, the way he made her feel so worthless about herself, it was gut-wrenching to go through. Just thinking about it makes me want to…well, come and see.”

  I got up and led him into my bedroom, pointing to a hole I’d punched in the wall.

  �
�Oh my,” he proclaimed.

  “Yeah, now you see what I mean.”

  I offered him a drink, still feeling strange that I was having a conversation with some guy I didn’t know from Adam about the girl I was still totally in love with, but if it meant doing the right thing and making amends, I would’ve talked to him, and a thousand others just like him. Not gay, I mean, just people that knew the Sarah today. Who understood her better than I could ever hope to at this point.

  We sat at the kitchen table with a couple of beers, eyeballing one another for a moment.

  “I’m going to lay it all out for you, Saint Nick,” he said. “Sarah misses your face. Unlike you, she’s managed to come around and see things from your POV, but it wasn’t easy, and if you have any hope of ever seeing her again you need to try and do the same, only harder.”

  “How?”

  “Tell me about your father,” he said.

  “Not much to tell, really. He was a loser and a drunk who left when my sister and I were kids. We were better off without him.”

  “Did he ever hit you?”

  “No, just verbal stuff, but even then it wasn’t very often. It was more directed at Ma than us.”

  “Okay, so let’s say your father came back into your life right now. What would you do?”

  “I’d tell him to fuck off, and what does this have to do with anything? I thought we were talking about Sarah?”

  “Look, cowboy. Slow your roll. I’m trying to get you to see things from another vantage point. What Sarah’s father did was awful, no denying it. No one’s trying to make excuses for it, not even him. But what I want you to realize is all of that hate, and anger, and guilt, is what made Sarah become the way she did. It’s what drove her to becoming a drug addict in the first place. She couldn’t deal with it.”

  “I’m sure I had a part in that, too,” I said, glancing at the floor.

  “Don’t flatter yourself. You leaving Sarah was just the fallout from it all, but you weren’t the source of her addiction. Yeah, okay, it didn’t help that you left, but when you were gone, all those feelings she had toward her father and what happened were magnified tenfold in your absence because she didn’t have that outlet anymore, but make no mistake about it, he was the main source of all her heartbreak.”

  “Which brings me back to my main point,” I said, taking a swig of my beer. “How can she even bear to look him in the eyes after all of it.”

  “And that’s my point. In order for Sarah to get over her addictions, she had to look her true demon in the eyes, and realize that he wasn’t the monster she thought he was, but just a flawed, weak man. Once she saw her father for who he truly was, she was able to forgive him, thus shedding herself of the burden.”

  I sighed and ran a hand down my face. When explained to me that way, I did manage to see it a little better from Sarah’s perspective. It was still a hard concept for me to grasp, but I was at least willing to try, For her, and for me.

  “You have a lot of anger in you, Nicholas,” Carter continued. “I can tell, and in order for you to have any kind of chance with Sarah down the road, you’re going to have to learn to let go of that.”

  “Easier said than done,” I chided.

  “I know, but I can help you. It’s kind of my job.”

  “You’d do that for me?”

  “No, but I’ll do it for Sarah because this last week has been miserable, and she needs to move on with her life, and unfortunately she wants you to be a part of that.”

  “So what do I do?”

  “Talk to her. Sarah’s a strong woman and knows what she wants, but I think you’re going to have to be the one to swallow your pride and admit defeat, because you’re the one in the wrong here, not her.”

  Carter finished his beer and placed his empty on the counter. “Don’t fuck it up this time, Saint Nicholas. She’s counting on you.”

  I stood to say goodbye, leading him toward the front door. “I won’t, and thanks Carter. I really appreciate it. You have a mean right…slap.”

  “There’ll be more where that came from if you don’t pull your act together, remember that.”

  “Will do.”

  We shook hands, and after he’d gone I sat down at the computer and surfed over to Facebook so I could type a message to Sarah. It wasn’t anything big, because as much as I could hear it from someone else that she wanted to see me and move past my stupidity, I couldn’t be certain unless I heard it from her, so I just typed three simple words as Bacon jumped on my lap and I started rubbing his back: can we talk?

  A few minutes later her reply came though, bringing a nervous smile to my face.

  Meet me on the roof.

  TWENTY-THREE

  - Sarah -

  I stood watching as Nicholas approached. Walking through the same door I’d walked through a week ago, his shoes crunching along the same gravel. There was no running this time, and there were certainly no tears.

  We stood next to one another, side-by-side overlooking the place we used to call home. For all the time I spent trying to imagine myself eventually getting out of there, it felt good to be back with Nicholas next to me, though I wished it were under different circumstances.

  Nether of us spoke for a while. Maybe I was waiting for him, or he was waiting for me, I’m not sure, but it made things a little uncomfortable, and I didn’t like it. I didn’t want to feel that way with him, and though Carter had convinced me to see things from his point of view, it didn’t make it sting any less.

  Carter. I had to grin at the thought of him barging in on Nicholas, slapping him across the face. He’d told me what happened, of course, and at first I was genuinely shocked that he would do such a brazen thing, especially considering how much Nicholas had filled out, but after hearing the way their conversation went, it made me understand Nicholas better.

  I closed my eyes, inhaling his scent. His cologne and natural odor was intoxicating. It made me think about our kiss. A kiss that had been seven years in the making and was worth every minute of waiting. I wanted more of those—God how I wanted more—but I willed myself to be strong in his presence, and not cave to the urges that were rising from deep within.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, jarring me from the pleasant memory. I opened my eyes and looked at him, seeing the sincerity on his face.

  I said nothing. Just kept my lips pursed firmly together. I didn’t want him to know that I wasn’t mad at him anymore. Part of me wanted him to feel just a little of what I felt that day he walked out on me, and I don’t know why.

  “When I heard you talk about your father,” he continued, “it triggered something in me. I’ve thought about him over the years, but as little as possible. It’s usually just you in my head. Your hair, your eyes, your smell. Those are the things I tried to focus on. The good things like just being with you, forgetting all about the reasons that you were there. When you brought him up in the diner, I just saw red, and I’m sorry. I don’t want to be that person when I’m with you, but I’m having a hard time moving past it. Carter—”

  I laughed to myself, still not saying anything. Carter.

  “—Yeah, I know. He’s quite the character. Anyway, when he explained things to me, it helped me to understand you a little better, and it made me realize that I want more of that. I want to get to know the person you are now, if you’ll let me, but I can’t promise you that I’m not without my flaws. Things make me angry, Sarah. Everything’s made me so angry for so long, but being with you last week, that was the first moment of peace I’d had in seven years.”

  He paused, and I thought he might go on, but when I saw that he was finished speaking I turned back toward the city, leaning against the ledge, taking in a deep breath. Processing his words as best I could when all I wanted to do was tell him it was okay.

  When I trusted myself and my voice enough, I said, “I spent the first twenty-odd years of my life dealing with anger, both inside and out, so I know what it’s like. I’d be lying if I said see
ing you like that last week didn’t scare me, because it did—” he winced “—but I understand. I get it, Nicholas. I get your anger more than you can possibly know, but if this is going to work, if we’re going to be friends again, then we have to figure out a way to move past it.”

  “Friends?” he said so quietly I could hear his heart skip a beat.

  “For now,” I smiled. “That’s all I can offer you, and I’m not sorry for that, but I need to make sure I’m okay with the person you are before we can go any further.”

  He nodded. “Carter told me what you said to him, about wanting to stick a needle in your arm. I never want you to feel that way around me, Sarah.”

  “Which is why we need to take things between us a little slower than they were moving last week. That kiss was amazing, but it was just a kiss. I think both of us wanted it so badly after everything that’d kept us apart for so long, and now that it’s out of the way, I’m able to see things a little clearer, you know?”

  “Yeah, I get it.”

  I took his had in mine and raised my eyes to meet his. They were dark and full of pain, yet when we touched I saw something else there. Hope. “I know you get it,” I told him, “otherwise I wouldn’t have agreed to meet you here again.”

  He smiled, his eyes brightening at my words. “I’d meet you everyday if I could,” he said.

  “So meet me again tomorrow night.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t seem so surprised. I want to have dinner with you. No, scratch that, I want to cook dinner for you. At my apartment.”

  His mouth parted into a pleasant smile for a moment until he realized what I was hinting at, then the smile faded into an uncertain expression that held fear in his eyes.

  “I want you to meet my father,” I said.

  “I thought you said you wanted to move slow,” he said, his voice a gravelly mix of doubt.

  “I need you to do this for me, Nicholas. In all the years we’ve known each other, you’ve never once met him, even when we were kids. Maybe if you see the man he is now, it’ll help you to get over the man he once was.”