Shattered

by Olga Bicos

  One of Gil’s many lessons came to mind. A little stress to the vines from drought wasn’t so bad. Hardship could give a wine character later. But what if the drought became so severe that it killed? At the vineyard, they used drip irrigation. Ryan couldn’t think of a similar fix for himself.

  You killed her, Ryan. You know you did.

  Well, maybe not in the way Daniel thought. But yes, he’d always accepted responsibility.

  The day he’d told Gil that Nina was dead, that the accident was his fault, Gil had already had the stroke. He’d been unable to respond as Ryan had poured out the whole sorry story, too young and distraught to hold back.

  I killed her, Gil. I swear I did. I told her she got pregnant on purpose, because she knew we were drifting apart. I said I didn’t love her, that maybe I never had. We couldn’t get married, even for the sake of a child. I was so stupid. I was stupid and mad and drunk.

  Gil had reached out with his good hand and placed it on Ryan’s, trying to comfort him. Even as he lay there, barely able to move, he’d done his best to tell Ryan he forgave him.

  “Ryan.”

  He turned, crash-landing back into the present. His father had let himself in. Even now, he wandered across the deck.

  Of course, he was drunk.

  Samuel stumbled into a chair, stared at it as if the furniture somehow offended. How did you get there? He made his way to the rail, catching his breath, those last steps a hard journey. He’d called almost an hour ago, letting Ryan know he wanted to meet. Now, Samuel looked out over the water, biding his time.

  “I could slip right in and disappear.” He playacted the whole thing, even putting a leg over, almost losing his footing. “But then they might think you did me in.”

  “For my inheritance?” Ryan asked, not impressed.

  “Well.” He turned away from the water and laughed. “I see your point.”

  His father had made it clear when Ryan chose Viña Dorada over Cutty House that, once Ryan made his move against his family, there would be no coming back. Everything would go to Daniel.

  As if that were some kind of a threat. As if he’d ever wanted any of it.

  “Your mother is worried,” he said, seeming to catch his breath, getting to the point of his visit. “She’s afraid of what this woman might do to you. Seeing Nina all over again.”

  “I don’t know, Dad.” There was a wealth of sarcasm to his voice. “What’s it done to you?”

  It took him a moment to answer. They’d never talked about Nina, but Samuel knew exactly why his son had turned his back on his family and Cutty House.

  He didn’t look at Ryan as he spoke. “She’s nothing like Nina. Nina can light up a room with her smile. She makes a man feel alive. Makes him do foolish things.” His father gave a distracted smile. “And love every minute of it.”

  He was talking about Nina as if she were still alive. She can…she makes. Present tense. The amazing part was that it still pissed Ryan off, like it was yesterday and she was telling him the truth all over again. The part about his father…

  Ryan’s confession to Gil had left out a detail or two.

  Nina, screaming at him. It’s not even your baby! You’ll see. It will be me turning you out, Ryan. Once I tell your father the baby is his.

  He hadn’t believed her. She’d been drunk and in a rage. He thought she was making it up, searching for the most painful blow she could deliver—and finding it. That’s right, Ryan. Your father fucked me! How could he believe her? That either of them could cross that line?

  Only, the next day, his father had been completely undone over Nina’s death. When he turned Ryan in to the police, a few things came into focus.

  Ryan stared at his father still leaning hard against the rail. He tried to feel something, then quickly shut off all emotion. If he let go, he wasn’t sure where it might take him. Not some stupid street brawl like him and Daniel. There’d be so much more. His father might even be close to the truth, suggesting Ryan would want him sliding over that rail.

  “You’re right,” he told Samuel. “Holly’s nothing like Nina.”

  Everybody seemed to make that mistake. Daniel. Even Holly. Worried that maybe it was Nina he wanted in his arms, when nothing could be further from the truth. But he and his father knew.

  “Which is why she shouldn’t be here,” he warned Samuel. “Shouldn’t be part of our mess.”

  “Yes. I see your point. But I’m not sure what I can do to change the situation.”

  “Think of something,” he threatened.

  His father granted another distracted smile. His hands on the railing shook.

  “Your mother and I haven’t…well, there’s a thing or two she hasn’t forgiven. And she’s very supportive of Daniel at this time. Daniel, of course, wants the girl to stay.”

  Ryan could see he’d have to make things a little clearer. He came over to stand in front of Samuel, making sure he had his father’s attention. “Fix it. Or I will.”

  His father smiled, then licked his lips. “Is that a threat in your voice, my boy?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with your hearing.”

  Ryan stared into eyes a mirror of his own. They looked alike, everyone said it. But twelve years ago, his father hadn’t been this old used-up man. He’d been strong, vibrant.

  He could almost hear his mother again, worried about Samuel. As if Ryan should care. As if he could give a shit.

  “All these years, I’ve kept your secret, old man. Don’t make the mistake of believing I did it for you.”

  His father smiled wanly. “No, no. I imagine your efforts are all for Gil. He does seem rather delicate these days.”

  Ryan pressed into him, making his point. “Forget what you did to me. Forget even what you did to Nina.” But Gil. Jesus, if Gil ever discovered the truth. “Yes, Dad,” the word full of irony, “that’s very much a threat you’re hearing.”

  Samuel stared at him, surprised and almost delighted. “All right,” he said, stepping back. “Let’s do this your way, shall we? Your mother is throwing a party. She’ll invite you, of course. And you’ll decline, as always. But you should come. I insist. Your architect lady will be there. I think by then we’ll have more to discuss.”

  His father pushed Ryan aside and walked to the door. Before leaving, he stared over the water. He seemed to be contemplating how tempting it might be. Just get the job done. Why the hell not? He was halfway there already.

  “You come to your mother’s party,” Samuel said, “and I’ll see what I can do.”

  After the door closed, Ryan whispered, “You do that.”

  He couldn’t believe the depth of his rage, couldn’t imagine how little was left of his control. Ever since Holly, it was as if he’d turned into this other man. For years he’d been setting the score straight, and now he was letting it slip through his fingers.

  Get control.

  Almost a week had passed since the last time he’d seen Holly, and not a night had gone by that he hadn’t picked up the phone to call her.

  He stood at the rail, hoping the breeze off the water might cool some of the heat. When his father had asked to come over, Ryan hadn’t thought it was such a bad idea. The fact was, he’d had a thing or two he needed to discuss. Because Holly wasn’t leaving town unless someone pulled the plug on the job at Cutty House.

  Ryan glanced down at his hands. He’d balled them into fists at his sides. She’s nothing like Nina.

  “Damn straight.”

  Maybe Ryan had always known there was something wrong with Nina, something a little off. Maybe that’s why he’d held back, calling off the wedding. Twelve years later, he still didn’t understand why she’d done the things she had. What had she lacked in life? What made her need more?

  He’d read this article about people who didn’t make enough dopamine. They needed to take these weird risks in order to get their fix of the stuff, just to feel normal, and tended toward high risk sports or dangerous jobs. Thrill seekers. />
  Maybe that was Nina. Nothing counted but the next thrill, the next fix. Or maybe it was just a young girl’s mistake. Nina had liked extremes, never knowing when to call an end to the party.

  His father and Nina. Dan and Nina.

  Ryan pushed away the memories, a little surprised that he could still feel that much anger. He would have thought he’d have more forgiveness in him. She’d paid the ultimate price, after all.

  Your mother is throwing a party…your architect lady will be there.

  Walking back inside, he remembered another one of Gil’s lessons about the vines. In the winter the vines lay dormant. It was an important time, Gil had told him, for the vines to rest and recuperate for the next season.

  Ryan had a feeling they’d all been waiting…Daniel, his father, his mother. Even Cutty House, resting these past years.

  But their dormant winter had come to an end. At long last, it was time to act.

  Samuel Cutty staggered up the gangplank, his hands shaking as he gripped the rail. At the top, he caught his fine shoes on the last step and fell.

  “Damn all.” He’d ripped the knee of his trousers.

  He gained his feet, trying to catch his breath. The meeting with Ryan. He wasn’t so sure he’d carried it off.

  He needed a drink. Badly.

  By the time he reached the Jaguar, he dropped his keys in the parking lot in his haste to open the door. He flopped into the seat and searched for the flask he’d left on the floor. He drank down the Scotch.

  When he felt some of the cold leave his bones, he punched up the number on the cell. He started the car.

  “I’m just leaving. I told him about the party. Damned if I know if he’ll show up.”

  He listened, drinking from the flask as he drove with his knee, getting courage.

  “I can’t guarantee shit. I did my best.”

  But the voice on the other end had no desire to hear his nay-saying.

  “Bloody hell,” he said, dropping the phone as he tried to hit the End button. Another long pull from the flask.

  He knew he was a weak man. They all knew his weakness. His own father, his wife…Daniel and Ryan.

  He thought about what he’d said to Ryan. What if I just hoist my leg over the rail? The problem was, he was too weak even for that.

  He laughed, feeling the alcohol warm him. He knew it wouldn’t last. He’d need more and soon. And he knew a place where he could go to get more. His haven. Yes, that’s exactly what he needed tonight. He needed Nina.

  He managed to get to her place in one piece. She’d be angry with him, just showing up. He almost laughed as he stumbled up the steps and pushed the buzzer.

  “It’s me,” he whispered into the tiny speaker.

  He was afraid she wouldn’t let him up. She didn’t always. It was touch and go with Nina these days. That was part of the thrill. You just never knew her mood.

  But he had to remind himself that after all these years it was still him she loved. Not Ryan or Daniel. Only Samuel, the soggy old man.

  He’d never been happier than when she buzzed him up.

  When she opened the door, she frowned. “How very naughty of you, Samuel,” she said. “You should have called. I have half a mind to turn you away.”

  “Please,” he begged her.

  She didn’t torture him too much, letting him in, taking him to her bed. It was getting more difficult now, age and alcohol catching up with him.

  “Nina, I need you. They all want something from me. I can’t keep up. They’re pulling me apart.”

  “I know,” she told him, guiding him alongside her naked body. “I’ll help you. I’ll make them go away.”

  He wasn’t sure he’d be able to get an erection. These days, that mattered less and less. He just wanted to be here, in Nina’s arms. “I think the baby would have loved me.” A second chance.

  “Why do you always bring up the baby? Dammit, Samuel, you give me the creeps sometimes, I swear you do.”

  “You’re right. I’ll stop.”

  He wasn’t sure why he’d brought it up. Perhaps because the one child he’d managed hated him so much.

  He studied her for a moment. She wasn’t petite or fine-boned anymore. She didn’t laugh like she used to. But she was still Nina in every way to him.

  “You’re right. It doesn’t matter,” he told her. “Because I have you.”

  Nina applied her mouth to the task. He could feel himself slip away into that alcoholic oblivion, a lovely black hole.

  “I’m glad you’re still alive,” he told her. “They all wanted you, but you loved me best. For me, you stayed alive.”

  “Hush, now,” she said. “You have me all to yourself, just like you always wanted.”

  “I didn’t want you to die,” he said, everything beginning to blur. “But we all die, don’t we?”

  He wasn’t even sure she was listening…or that he was talking.

  But death. It was coming. Tired and drunk and dreaming, sometimes death seemed the only sure thing.

  23

  Emma waited at the kitchen counter, her obligatory pit stop at Daniel’s apartment coming to a close. Because she knew how to play by the rules—show up on time, listen like you’re interested—these last days had passed without too much damage.

  “You know the really amazing part? I like what she’s doing,” he told Emma, going on about his meeting earlier with Holly. He had his feet up on the chair opposite at the dining table, a glass of Merlot in hand. King of all he surveyed.

  “At first, I thought it was all going to be so dull. But now she’s added an odd column here and there, making things look kind of staggered but still balanced. She’s using color to emphasize certain walls. And she has this amazing idea of taking the plaster work we tore down and creating a design to cover one of the walls. She’s taken all that stuff from the past and made it into something fresh and new.”

  He couldn’t be more delighted. He’d never hired Holly for her talents as an architect. Now, the complete revisionist, he was making it all sound so reasonable. Good thing he’d brought Holly on board, right? Now, she’d get what she wanted, as well, a chance to shine. Wasn’t that what they all wanted? Him with the East Side Café. Emma with her cooking. Now, Holly and Cutty House. A win-win all around.

  Maybe a conscience was like a muscle, Emma thought. If you didn’t use it, it slipped away to vanish altogether.

  She made a show of checking the clock on the microwave. “I have to go.” As if she hadn’t been counting the minutes.

  She picked up the earthenware pot she’d placed on the counter, ready to make a quick exit. She’d told Daniel that she had to cover for Beth on a job.

  “I thought Beth was out of town?” he asked, looking at his glass of Merlot and not at her.

  “That’s why she needs me to cover for her,” she said, leaning down to give him a peck on the cheek, hoping to get off easy.

  But no such luck. He grabbed her arm, keeping her there beside him. “I thought you said you were giving up the catering business. Working for me full-time.”

  She shrugged off his hand. She could feel her blood racing, the adrenaline rush of lying. “And I also said I would help when she needed me. She won’t call often. Besides, what am I doing for you, really? Until the kitchen is up and running.”

  He used his lie-detector stare on her. But clearly, he didn’t want to fight. Not now, with his triumph so fresh in his mind.

  “You need to forgive me,” he said, surprising her as he stumbled over the words. He stood. She could see he was fighting himself not to take her in his arms. “I’m worried about us.”

  “Daniel—”

  He turned her to face him, focusing on the wrong thing. “Hey, we’re forever, right? You still love me, you know you do. If you love me, you’ll forgive me.”

  She thought about how, sometimes, things just go rotten inside. You think it’s good because the fruit appears shiny and perfect on the outside, but you slice it open an
d find it’s all rotten. Nothing there you can save.

  “You know I forgive you,” she said softly. And because she meant it, she could look at him and add, “I can’t help myself.”

  At the entry, she grabbed her coat. She knew he was completely capable of following her in his current state of mind. She would have to be careful.

  “How long are you going to keep punishing me, Emma?”

  He was standing in the hall, watching her. She could feel herself trembling, surprisingly with anger. When she’d told Holly to go home, she thought it would be over. Only, Holly wasn’t giving up. She wasn’t leaving. And Emma hadn’t had the courage to tell her everything. She’d held back that little bit, the important part—the truth. My fault.

  “Have you ever stopped to think, Daniel,” she said, “that I’m punishing myself?”

  “Honey.” He pulled her into his arms. “You scare me when you talk like that,” he said, not looking scared at all.

  “I’ve got to go.”

  “God. I can’t believe…Emma.”

  He caught up with her just outside the elevator, pleading with his eyes. “I’ll be waiting for you tonight, okay?”

  “Right.”

  She managed to step inside the elevator and watched as the doors slowly closed like a curtain on his face. End of Act I.

  On any given day, Chinatown teemed with its own life force. Past the ornate entrance gate to the neighborhood, colorful facades and balconies paraded down Grant Street. Fish markets, temples and herbalist shops crowded the avenues. Paved alleys worked like arteries filled with a constant flow of locals and tourist alike. It was an exotic, ambiguous place where pagoda roofs warded off evil spirits, and street signs in Chinese calligraphy heralded the message: You’re not in Kansas anymore.

  Emma lived in an alley between Washington and Jackson. She thought the most beautiful morning of the year was Chinese New Year. That’s when she’d see elderly men carrying leafless branches of quince budding in pink to their apartments, the very thing she carried now.

  She reached her apartment and arranged the branches in a ceramic vase. She thought it was a little crazy, what she was doing. But more likely tonight was a selfish act—Emma trying to grab a little bit of happiness before everything went to crap.