by L.H. Cosway
I frowned. “What?”
He seemed apologetic. “I’m sorry. My girlfriend likes to meddle. You shouldn’t have come.”
“You’re Lille’s boyfriend?”
He nodded. “Uh-huh.”
My voice grew so quiet it was practically a whisper. “Do you…do you know King?”
His eyes went sad, like he felt sorry for me. Something thick and heavy lodged in my throat. Was I too late? Had his self-destructive path reached its end? The thought took the strength right out of me. I was about to ask him what had happened when another man exited the tent. He was tall, too, but with shorter hair and a smarter dress sense. He was also very handsome, and I wondered just how many drop-dead gorgeous men just so happened to be hanging around this circus.
“What’s happening, bro?” he said. American. It was becoming hard to keep up with all the accents. Before the first man, whose name I still didn’t know, could answer, the American’s eyes wandered to me. He took me in quickly, shrewdly, and seemed to immediately recognise who I was. It didn’t take him a few minutes like it had the first man. And his reaction to me was a whole lot different, too. A wide, almost giddy smile spread across his lips.
“Holy shit! It’s you,” he said with a gasp, and came to put his hands on my shoulders, squeezing them as he beamed down at me. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
Okay, now I was confused. “Uh, me neither?”
“I’m Jay,” he went on. “The grumpy one’s Jack. He’s my brother. Crappity crap, you’re real, Alexis. You’re a living, breathing woman. For a while there we thought you might be a ghost.”
“Hold up a sec,” Jack, the grumpy one, interrupted. “Don’t fucking tell me you were in on this, too?”
Jay rolled his eyes and grinned. “Of course I was.”
“And Matilda?” Jack asked.
“Nah, it was just me and your woman. We were kinda sneaky about it.”
“This isn’t a joke, Jay. This is serious. King isn’t….”
“King will be fine,” Jay intoned meaningfully, turning his head to his brother before looking back at me. “Once he sees his beautiful Alexis, he’ll be doing fucking cartwheels.”
“No, he won’t.”
“He will.”
“He won’t.”
Seriously, I was going to get whiplash going back and forth between these two. I interrupted loudly, hands on hips. “Will one of you just bring me to him?” I stated, my voice on the shaky side.
Jay’s face went serious. “Yeah, sorry, come with me.”
“I’m going to find Lille,” Jack muttered before stomping off. He sounded like he had a serious bone to pick with her, and I didn’t fancy being Lille right then.
I tugged on Jay’s shirt sleeve and he stopped walking to face me. “What’s wrong, darlin?”
I bit on my lip, emotion filling my lungs and my eyes growing watery. “How is he?”
“Ah, shit, babe, don’t cry,” he said, and stepped forward, startling me when he pulled me into a hug. I’d been alone for so long, lonely, and this stranger hugging me just made things worse. His kindness was more than I could handle as I let him embrace me. It felt good to have a man close, to smell one, clean and warm. I couldn’t have anticipated the emotional effect it would have on me.
He began rubbing the centre of my back soothingly, and I tried my best to blink away my tears. I stood back, shaking my head. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve been searching for him for years. This is all a little much right now.”
Jay’s brows drew together in empathy as he let out a gruff breath and placed his hands on his hips. He stared at the ground before meeting my gaze. “Look, I’m not gonna lie. He’s in a bad way. Lille didn’t exactly say it explicitly in her letter, but fuck, your man’s got a serious drink problem. I’m gonna take you to him, you’re gonna see him, but he sure as hell isn’t gonna be the same as you knew him. You need to prepare yourself for that, Alexis, okay?”
I inhaled, and even though his words were a grave warning, there was something reassuring about them. “Okay.”
Jay nodded, satisfied. “Good. Now, this isn’t going to be easy, but I think that if he sees you, if he knows you still exist, then we can all work together to pull him back from the brink. You’ll be the catalyst. You’ll be the goal for him. I mean, if he knows he can have you back, then I think he’ll even do all the hard work himself.” A pause as he eyed me. “He can have you back, right?”
Without thinking, I nodded. Then I simply stared at him, absorbing everything he’d just said. A silence fell between us. Memories bombarded me, all the things that King had been through in his life.
Jay’s voice was a soft whisper, his eyes flittering over me, studying me like I was a book and he was straining to see the words. “Jesus, Alexis, what the fuck happened to him?”
My face went sad. “So much and too fast. I have a feeling he still doesn’t know that he didn’t do what he thinks he did.”
“What does he think he did?”
I wasn’t sure what it was about this guy, but he had a way of pulling all the information right out of me. My voice was a whisper when I replied, “He thinks he killed someone.”
Jay absorbed this quickly, his posture stoic. “But he didn’t?”
“No, he didn’t. He should have. If anyone deserved to kill that bastard, it was King, but he didn’t.”
“Christ.”
“Jay.”
“Yes?”
“Take me to him. Please.”
“Okay, darlin’, okay. Come on,” he said, and threw his arm protectively around my shoulders. He led me farther from the circus tent and towards a cluster of mobile homes camped out nearby. In the centre of them was a large open-air gazebo with tables, chairs, and a few gas cookers. There were a couple of people milling about, but not many. My eyes scanned the space frantically, desperate for a glimpse of King. Jay stopped walking, and so did I.
That’s when I saw him.
He was so changed, I wasn’t even sure how I recognised him, but I did. My heart would know him anywhere, in any guise. He sat on a bench, his body slumped over the table, his fingers clasped around a bottle of liquor. His hair was long and dirty, his face heavily shrouded by a beard. He wore filthy, unkempt clothing, a grey jacket with a woollen jumper beneath, worn jeans and muddy boots.
I couldn’t believe this was the same man who once sat in his office overlooking the Thames, a ruler of his own universe, the best at whatever he set his mind to. Now he was reduced to a homeless drunkard, completely unrecognisable. I really didn’t understand how the world worked sometimes.
At thirty-three, he’d been at the top.
Now thirty-nine, almost forty, he was at the bottom.
And yet, his very presence still made my heart pound, still made my lungs fill up with too much air. He was alive. He was breathing. And I didn’t care what form he took, so long as I could have him back. My legs gave out, but Jay steadied me. I couldn’t take my eyes off King, and he didn’t even know I was there.
A small commotion sounded from nearby, and I turned to see a tall blonde woman come running up to us. She was followed closely by Jack and another woman, a short brunette. She stopped in front of us, hands going to her hips as she tried to catch her breath. Her beautiful grey eyes danced as she took me in.
“You’re here,” she breathed. “I can’t believe you came.”
I stared at her, taken aback, but I knew instantly that this had to be Lille. She confirmed my assumption when she threw her hand out and introduced herself. “I’m Lille, the one who wrote you the letter.”
Slowly, I reached forward and shook her hand, feeling shy and out of place. “I’m Alexis.”
She nodded, smiling, and replied loudly, “Yes, I know.” She was clearly excited.
“Quiet the fuck down,” a broody, scratchy voice demanded from nearby, and every hair on my body stood on end. His voice, so changed, yet so the same. I couldn’t help closing my eyes, blinking
away another tear. I’d turned my back to him when I shook hands with Lille, and now I heard hard boots crunching on the ground. I turned back around as he neared. His blue eyes, once so bright and sparkling, were now dull and reddened.
I sucked in a breath.
He stopped in his tracks.
Time slowed down, the world became as small as a grain of sand, as we stared at one another. It was a moment I’d never forget. The bottle he’d been clutching like a life raft fell from his grip. The harsh sound of glass shattering shot through me, making this all so real. King didn’t even notice he’d dropped the bottle. He reached up, rubbing at his eyes to the point that it looked painful.
“Stop it, stop it, stop showing me. I don’t want to see her anymore. No more.”
He was hurting himself, and I couldn’t watch. I stepped forward, my voice lighter than air. “Oliver,” I whispered. I stood mere inches away, the smell of him hitting me. He stank of booze and dirt. My heart cracked in two. It was a physical pain to see him like this.
“No!” he screamed, hands flying out and pushing at me. I stumbled backwards but managed to find my feet before I fell. Grumpy Jack strode forward, his size formidable, and gripped King by the shoulders. “Calm down, friend, calm down.” His words seemed to soothe something in King, whose body slumped forward. Jack’s eyes wandered to his girlfriend, who stood frozen in place.
“I told you, I fucking told you, Lille.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t think….”
“That’s just it, you didn’t think at all,” Jack fumed, eyes now flashing accusingly at his brother. “Neither one of you did.” There was something in the way he spoke that made me feel like this was personal to him, like he was truly angered that Jay and Lille had brought me here to King, who clearly wasn’t in a fit state to see me. Again, my tears came. I felt like my heart, my very soul, was being torn in two. I didn’t want him to be like this. I just wanted the old King back.
Now I wasn’t sure if that was even possible. Then, all of a sudden, the anger hit me. How could he let himself become like this? How could he leave me for all these years and never once try to make contact? There had to be a reason, but I just wasn’t seeing it. Perhaps it was the tears filling my eyes that caused my blindness.
Jack led King away, and I stared after my love, a lump in my throat and a brick in my stomach. Nothing about this was okay.
Nothing.
Seventeen
I cried all the way home, thankful it was dark and no other drivers could see me wailing like a crazy person in the front seat. After Jack had taken King away, I’d spoken with Lille and Jay for a while, and the brunette, Matilda, who turned out to be Jay’s wife. They were all so kind and apologetic, pleading with me to come back in a day or so. They promised they’d do their best to clean King up, get him sober. I nodded vacantly, but all the while the image of him in his current state branded itself into my mind. I didn’t know how to feel. Should I be angry? Sad? Happy to have him back even if he wasn’t the same?
I thought it might be wise to give him space for a while, but I knew it was going to be impossible to stay away. I was already concocting plans, figuring out ways in which I might bring him back to his old self. Even though it had taken years, finding him had been the easy part. Healing him would be the greatest challenge I’d ever faced.
I decided not to tell anyone about our son yet, but I’d let King know that Elaine was alive as soon as I could. I thought that would ease his mind somewhat, give him hope. I also needed to tell him that he hadn’t been the one to kill Bruce. He needed to know.
When I arrived home, I sat in the car for a few minutes, trying to compose myself. It was pointless, though, because Karla was going to know something was up the second she saw me.
The house was quiet when I stepped inside and dropped my keys on the end table. The TV was on low, and Karla sat on the couch, scrolling through the messages on her phone.
“Hey,” I said quietly.
She turned to me and looked up, her eyes taking me in. “Hey, you’re back.”
“Yeah, how was he?”
“Well-behaved but chatty, as usual,” she told me with a soft smile that quickly faded. “Lexie, is everything okay?”
I couldn’t help it — I sniffled. She was up from her seat and taking me into her arms within seconds, holding me close. My words were tiny, barely audible, when I whispered, “I found him.”
Karla sucked in a shocked breath and pulled back to look down at me. Several emotions crossed her face, mostly surprise. “King? You found King?”
I nodded.
“Where is he?”
“Not far, but Karla, he’s changed, so changed. I’m not even sure if….” My voice broke and was replaced with sobs. Karla pulled me close again.
“Hey, hey, it’s all right. You’ll get through this, you have me. I’ll do everything I can to help.”
Her words soothed me a little, and even though I’d been there for her through some really tough times over the past few years, I felt embarrassed that I was crying. After a minute I pulled away and went to grab a tissue to dry my face.
“Can you take Oliver again tomorrow?”
Karla nodded. “Of course. Anything you need.”
A few minutes later she left, and I climbed the stairs for bed, knowing I probably wouldn’t sleep a wink. I ducked my head inside Oliver’s room and found him sleeping soundly, his light breathing filling the space. I loved him just as much as I loved his father, but I’d only managed to keep one of them safe.
The thought almost broke me.
Closing the door over gently, I went to my own room and crawled into bed. I closed my eyes, but, as predicted, sleep never came. I finally drifted off after hours of racing thoughts, and was woken up the next morning by my son poking at me.
“I’m hungry,” he complained. I’m not sure why, but there was just something about his cranky, entitled little face that made me laugh amid all the sadness. I sat up and pulled him to me, pressing a soft kiss to his head and cuddling him close. He giggled, and I lifted him up with me, tickling him under the arms and making him wriggle like crazy.
“Stop it!” he yelped in glee. His words instantly sobered me, and I set him down on the floor. They echoed what King had said last night, when he’d thought I was some spectre concocted by his mind just to torture him. Remembering, I led Oliver downstairs and began absentmindedly pulling out pots and pans to make breakfast. I let him help me put the bread in the toaster. He loved to help. Then he sat and watched as I cracked some eggs, stirred them up, and poured them into the pan to make an omelette.
“Are you sad again, Mummy?” he asked.
I wasn’t sure if he was particularly tuned in to people’s emotions, or if he was just good at reading me because we spent so much time together, but he always seemed to sense how I was feeling. I mustered a smile for him.
“No, I’m not sad, baby, just tired.”
“After breakfast we can bring all our blankets downstairs and watch The Lego Movie,” he suggested, like it was a sure fire way to cheer me up.
“I have to go somewhere today,” I told him regretfully. “But your Aunt Karla is coming again to mind you. Maybe she’ll want to watch it.”
He scrunched up his nose. “But she always sings the song. I like Aunt Karla, but I don’t like it when she sings the song.”
His response surprised a laugh out of me, because it was true — Karla didn’t have a note in her head.
“Okay, maybe I’ll tell her not to sing during the movie. How does that sound?”
He looked appeased, replying fervently, “Yes, please tell her that.”
After we ate I made quick work of bathing and dressing him, then did the same for myself. I put on some dark green skinnies, a yellow blouse, and ballet flats. I had an idea to get King to interact with me, but it was going to be a long shot. I planned to bring my chessboard to the circus and see if he’d play. We didn’t have to talk at all, but if I could at l
east get him to play, it’d be a start.
Karla arrived and I was off, driving back into the city again. I’d exchanged numbers with both Jay and Lille the previous night, so I tapped out a text to them saying I was on my way. It was almost lunchtime, but I wasn’t sure if the circus did daytime shows or just nighttime ones. Anyhow, I hoped it was quiet so I could find a decent parking space. A couple of minutes before I arrived, I received a text from Jay, telling me he’d meet me at the front of the tent.
I parked close by, got out, hitched my bag up on my shoulder (it was heavy because of the chessboard and all the pieces), and made my way to the entrance. When I got there I almost stumbled over my own feet, because standing beside Jay was the gypsy woman, Marina. King’s half-sister. She’d hardly changed at all since I’d last seen her, and when she looked at me, her eyes held a mix of warmth and wariness.
“Hello, love,” she said in greeting as she held her hand out. “I’m Marina. This is my circus.”
“You’re King’s sister,” I replied, not knowing what else to say.
She nodded, those wise old eyes of her eyes blinking slowly. A small capuchin monkey sat on her shoulder, which I would have found odd if she didn’t own a circus. I could just imagine Oliver’s excitement if he were here. Whenever I’d taken him to the London Zoo, he’d always gone apeshit for the monkeys – no pun intended.
“So Bruce Mitchell was your father?” I went on.
“That’s right, though I’d say by blood only. That man was never much of a parent.” Her voice was hard when she spoke of him, and I instantly knew she must have had just as much of an awful time with Bruce as King did. Perhaps that’s how they bonded. Also, she used the past tense, so I presumed she knew he was dead, but did she know that King hadn’t been the one to kill him?
“King didn’t kill him, you know that, right?” I blurted.
Her eyes widened as she shook her head. “I didn’t, but I do now. Young Jason here informed me.” My attention wandered to Jay, and I remembered how I’d told him last night, how he had a knack for pulling information out of me. “Though honestly,” Marina continued, “even if he had killed him, I wouldn’t have blamed him. Bruce was a despicable human being.”