by Shey Stahl
At first, I’m confused what she’s talking about. I have to think about it for a moment and she uses the time to gain some distance between us. Refusing to let it go, I follow her. “Oh, come on. You know that shit wasn’t true.”
She studies me intently. “Do I?”
My breath pushes out in a long exhale. The thought of her trust in me being gone, it has me dead where I stand. Dramatic, I know, but thinking her steadfast, sure, unshakable trust she had in me is now gone, well, it’s more than I want to think about. “You should because you know me.”
And then she knocks me sideways with, “I thought I did.”
“You do.”
“Now is not the time for this.”
“So when will be the time? Because I’m constantly trying to find the time and you keep putting me off.”
“I don’t know.”
And then she walks away from me. Another hit to my heart, this time a little deeper.
Cat smiles at me, like she feels bad for me. “She hates you, and I don’t know why. She told me but I can’t remember.”
Damn it. What the fuck? She’s supposed to be impressed, goddamn it.
Now, this is the part of the day that turns to shit. As if standing in a white jumpsuit covered in paint after Ember abandons me yet again isn’t the low point of the day, it’s not in this case.
It’s when one of the security guards approaches me. I haven’t had a lot of contact with them yet, as they’re here for the kids and with only one day off a week, I’m rarely home lately. The guys in front of me, they’re surprisingly bigger than me and mean-mugging just about everything in their path. Aside from Nalani and Haisley, nobody keeps a glare with those two.
“Mr. Slade, we have a problem,” the bigger of the two says to me, his arms crossed over his burly chest. His brow dips, our eyes locked on one another.
“What now?” No one likes to hear those words, especially me and with the way my life has been like a shit show lately.
“Marley’s gone.”
“What do you mean she’s gone?” I glance around. “Did you check the cupboards?”
Both security guards look at me like I’m stupid, and let’s face it, I’ve gotten this look a lot lately. “She left saying she was going to a friend’s house, but she never arrived.”
That’s not what I wanted to hear. Everything from her being kidnapped to her lying dead in the street crosses my mind. Every time I was late for curfew growing up, Oma would hit me when I got home and scream, “I thought you were dead!”
I’ve never understood that expression because if you thought I was dead, why the fuck are you at home and not looking for my corpse? And another thing, why did parents and grandparents automatically assume the worst?
I get it now. You’re brought into their lives and you’re guiding them, or at least in my case attempting to and fucking it up, but it doesn’t stop the worry and the anxiety that something horrible might happen. I’ve never felt fear like I have now since these kids were brought into my life. Until I cared enough about someone other than myself. Until I was blindsided by love.
Inside the house, Ember hands me her phone to show me a blinking light on a map. “She’s at Pier 57.”
I stare at Ember, my heart in my throat. “What’s she doing there?”
“Probably trying to clear her head. Have you bothered to check on her at all today?”
“No,” I say, unsure why I have to check on each kid every day. “Should I be? Is that what parents do?”
Ember rolls her eyes and swats at the hand I try snaking around her waist. “Yes, that’s what you do. That’s what parents do. They check on their kids. They know what’s going on in their lives and they’re present.”
I knew going into this it would be hard for me to be present in anything aside from football. The mentality needed to do what I do, and do it well, requires my focus to be on that and only that. Except now, I’ve had to shift my focus. I have to look out for my offensive line or there is going to be a gap in coverage.
I tuck my cell phone in my pocket and reach for my keys. “I’ll go get her.”
“I’ll come with you,” Ember notes, reaching for her jacket. The rain had just moved in, thick gray clouds hanging low in the sky.
I peek up at the sky, then to Ember and grab my own rain jacket out of the closet. “I need to go alone.”
At first she looks like she wants to argue with me, but then she blinks and nods. “Okay. You’re right.”
I smile. “Could you say that one more time?”
She hits my shoulder. “Knock it off.”
I don’t know about you, but she’s coming around to the idea of not hating me, isn’t she?
Okay, maybe not completely, but I’m definitely gaining some yardage.
I find Marley at the pier like Ember said she’d be, only she’s not. Her phone is in a trash can and though I’m pissed she threw a phone away, there’s probably a reason for it, right?
I fucking hope so.
After some searching, I find her near Pike Place looking over Elliott Bay next to a man drawing a cartoon character with a Sharpie on a piece of cardboard. Though she’s near others, she’s sitting alone, looking over the edge into the water. I take my time walking toward her.
When I do approach her, I make sure to stand to the side so she sees me first rather than sneaking up on her. As she notices me, her expression changes from lost to annoyed.
She shakes her head. “What are you doing here?”
“Came looking for you,” I say. My voice is quiet, my stance unsure. She may punch me or run away. I have to be prepared for anything even though I don’t know what to do or say to her. “Are you okay?”
“Why?”
Running my hand over my face, I frown. “Because you ran away.”
“I hardly call skipping out on a birthday party running away.”
“Well, when you dodge security and you threw your cell phone in the garbage, yeah, that’s sort of running away.”
She looks disgusted. “Did you get it out of the garbage can?”
“No. Answer my question. Why’d you run away?”
“Or getting away,” she says quickly, something flashing in her eyes. Then she blinks away the emotion.
Goddamn, she’s frustrating. I exhale through my nose, my gaze dropping to the planks at our feet and then back to Marley. I watch her for a moment, trying to gauge what’s going on with her. Rain drips from the hood of her jacket onto her nose.
“Are you crying?”
“I’m not crying because of you, if that’s what you think.”
“Then why are you?”
“Because.”
Not caring that we’re both soaked in rain now, I sit next to her on the pier. “When I first moved to Seattle, having lived in Texas all my life, I had a fascination with the pier. I came out here every night just to think.” A thick layer of marine fog has moved in, the visibility into Elliott Bay harsh. You can barely make out Bainbridge Island in the distance. Under a gray sky, the water’s darker than usual, almost black as it slaps against the dock. Rain coats my skin, a salty presence on my lips.
“I don’t want to talk to you, Landon.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t care.”
Damn. My heart pinches in my chest. “That’s not true. I do care.”
“Prove it.”
“Okay, how?”
“When was my mom’s birthday?”
Shit. Of course she’d ask something I didn’t know the answer to. “I, uh.” There’s no way around it. “I don’t know. I only met her once or twice.”
“That’s just it, you don’t have to meet her to know the answer to that.” She stares at me for a beat, and though I can see so much behind her eyes, I can’t read any of it. “You could have acted like you cared about us and one of us probably would have said today is her birthday.” Tension fills the air between us, followed by a palpable silence. “Same day as Braylee and Ad
ler.”
Now I really feel like a goddamn asshole.
My brow rises, my mouth dropping open just a bit. Clearing my throat, I take in a deep breath, squaring my shoulders. “Marley, I’m sorry. Okay? I fuck up, constantly. It’s not that I don’t care. I do. I’ve literally been where you are now. And now, I’m supposed to be a father figure to you guys when I never had one growing up.” I’m being honest and real with her, and I hope she finally sees through my tough exterior and that I do fucking care. “I don’t know how to do this. I have no idea how to raise you guys, but it certainly doesn’t mean I don’t care that it’s your mom’s birthday, or that you’re unhappy here.”
Her eyes narrow, the hardness in them easing. I watch as she swallows, her eyes still locked on mine. If only I could read them, then I’d know what to say to make this better. “It’s not that I’m unhappy here. I just don’t know myself anymore.”
I went to therapy for a week after my parents died. I was young enough I don’t remember much of it, but I do remember what therapists told my sister and me, and my brothers, but I doubt they listened. She said: When a child experiences a loss, they’re emotionally frozen at the age they experienced the death until they finally accept the loss. Then, and only then, can they grow emotionally.
When my parents died, Oma tried to talk to us about it and continued to for years. She never wanted us to forget them, but nothing can make that void go away. For years I learned to turn the anger off. I hadn’t realized it at the time, but my way of dealing with it became football. A place where I could tap into that anger when I needed the distraction and turn it off when I left the field.
Have I tried to talk to these kids about their parents dying?
No, I haven’t. Aside from that conversation Haisley and I had that one morning in my bed.
“Do you miss her?” Marley asks, drawing me from my thoughts.
“Who?”
“Ember.”
Have you ever had an adrenaline rush? You know that sudden onset of pain that hits your chest right before the exhilaration comes? The part where your body is telling you it’s dangerous, but fuck, you might like it. That’s how it feels for me every single time I think about Ember. “Yeah, I do. I fucked up big time.”
Marley lets out a huffed laugh. “Haven’t we all.”
Unsure what else to do, I wrap my arm around her. “I know I suck at this shit.”
“You’re not doing as bad as you think you are.”
“So we’re cool?”
Marley laughs, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, we’re cool.”
Another laugh escapes Marley as we get up and walk in the rain. It sounds like drops of paint splattered on a canvas and immediately, my mind returns to Ember, as if she was ever far from my thoughts to begin with.
“Got any pointers on how to get Ember to talk to me?” In a perfect world, Ember’d give me her heart and soul. Let me have her and she’d follow me anywhere for the world to see. Had that really slipped from my grasp?
“No, not really. Have you tried just saying you’re sorry?”
“Like a million times.”
“You need a grand gesture then.”
I look over at her. “Got any suggestions?”
She smiles. “I have one….”
Hang Time – The amount of time that a punt stays in the air. Longer is better for the punting team as the tacklers then get more time to get to where the ball will be coming down. A combination of a long punt with a long hang time is optimal on most punts.
I might be at Westward’s Fall Expo surrounded by world renowned artists, but my mind isn’t on these paintings, or the artists. It’s back at the house wondering if the kids are all right with Landon being at an away game. I’m wondering if someone is helping Adler and Braylee with their math. Is Marley hanging out with that boy from her English class tonight? The one Landon told her she could never bring to the house? Is someone playing horses with Nalani? And is Haisley’s hair braided before she goes to bed like she likes?
“An anonymous buyer bought the entire collection,” Mabel tells me, smiling warmly. Carefully, her eyes find the one I favor above all others. Mabel hands me an envelope. “The buyer indicated he would pick them up this week, but he’s paid for them already. Congratulations.”
I know exactly who bought them. Don’t you? I’m not known enough around the city by anyone to want the entire ten-piece collection I have here, which means the only person with that kind of money willing to take a chance on an unknown artist is someone they know or has been invested in their art from the beginning. That leaves Percy, or Landon. But… why would Percy want the collection knowing who the inspiration for it was? Exactly, he wouldn’t. It was Landon. Mystery solved.
As an artist, I hide myself deep within my paintings. Around me, there are ten pieces that represent me and every single one of them holds something significant. One more than others. Mine is Blindsided. The one I did of Landon. Though if you didn’t know any better, you wouldn’t know it’s him.
What gives it away?
Nothing as far as I’m concerned, but maybe it’s the darkness it represents, the shadowing, or the purple. Remember when I said colors evoke a meaning from deep within? Purple, it’s wealth, extravagance, creativity, devotion, pride, and magic. All aspects of Landon’s life he’s marked upon mine.
Now, I’m going to take you back about five years. Before I met Landon. You remember me telling you about my boss I’d been sleeping with, right?
He’s about to make his appearance again, but I’m going to pause for a minute here. Bear with me.
Have you ever gotten to a point in your life where you think back and wonder who really knows you? Like the scary shit about you. The down-deep flaws you can barely admit to yourself let alone to others.
Cat, she’s my girlfriend. She knows the guys I’ve slept with, my insecurities, my favorite flavor of ice cream and that when I’m sad, I binge watch the original Beverly Hills 90210.
Landon, he knows the woman I became. The mature one who doesn’t lack confidence aside from wondering how and why I fit into his life. The one who pours herself into a painting and uses color to find inspiration. The one he watches scary movies with while eating Chinese take-out.
But Percy, that boss I had been seeing and living with before I met Landon, yes, we’re back to him. He knows the most. He’s the guy who gave life to the woman inside me. In many ways he isolated me from friends and threatened anyone who talked to me. He introduced me into his world of bondage and painted my life with his dominance. For two years after I left him, he called me endlessly until I changed my number. I knew I wouldn’t avoid him forever. Hell, we still lived in the same city, but I had no idea tonight would be the night I finally ran into him again.
Just as I turn my head, I’m met with his gray eyes and his intimidating inked face.
“It’s breathtaking, Em.” Percy gestures with a careful nod to the painting, breathing out slowly. “Does he know about it?”
I nod, unable to make eye contact with him. If you knew Percy, you’d understand how that’s possible. Never in my life have I ever been afraid of a man, yet completely trusting of him for reasons my heart will never understand. “Yes, he knows about it. He bought it actually. All of these he bought.”
Percy angles his chin down, inspecting me. His cold, hard eyes lifted to mine. “You love him, yes?”
Again, I nod. “I… do.” Tears sting my eyes. It’s the first time I’ve ever admitted this aloud, to anyone, including myself.
Percy leans forward, brushing his hair out of his eyes to get a better look at my face. “You deserve happiness.”
“I know.” I fight back tears.
He studies me for a few moments and then leans back, taking a long pull from the whiskey flask in his hand. “I don’t think you do, Em.”
He’s right. I don’t. I don’t think I ever did.
It’s nearing midnight by the time I’m leaving the expo and I’m not wild a
bout walking to my car alone. “Do you want me to walk you to your car?” Percy asks, squinting against the rain obscuring our vision.
No, you’ll probably kidnap me.
Our eyes catch and I see the man I met in the basement of a bar he tattooed in. Few days shy of fourteen, I had no idea he’d change my life the way he did, but he doesn’t get all the credit. I’m not that same person anymore. I don’t think I could ever go back to being her, and by the expression he holds deep within his gray eyes, he knows it.
I want to ask why after all these years he showed up, and why here, but does it matter? I think the less I know the better.
Tucking a loose strand of my hair behind my ear, I shake my head to his question. “No, I’m fine.” And nervous in your presence, but I’ll never tell him that. Something in the way he keeps distance between us tells me he knows already. “You look good, Percy. I hope you’ve found happiness.”
Nodding, his eyes narrow in on my car, but he avoids the pry into his own life. “You’ve done good, Em. I’m proud of you.”
He means it. If there’s one thing you can trust about a man like Percy it’s that he tells you the truth. And then without another glance, he walks away and out of my life again.
I watch him walk away for a moment and swing a leg over his Harley. It’s not surprising to me he’s riding it in the rain.
Sighing, I prepare myself to rush across the parking lot. Naturally, as with any day in late fall in the Pacific Northwest, it’s raining in the city. I hate walking around in the dark. Absolutely hate it. Most of the time I avoid it and only travel in pairs at night. Tonight it’s unavoidable.
My heels slap against the puddles as I scurry to my car. I hit the remote, the lights flashing and reflecting off the wet pavement. Something feels eerie about the night, but I refuse to freak myself out. Shit, you’re freaked out now too, aren’t you?
I do that thing where I open the door, toss my stuff inside and then jump inside and slam the door closed, immediately locking it. I’m not even joking. I jumped inside. Even hit my head on the doorframe in the process.