This trip was going to be educational for plenty of reasons, he decided, kissing the top of her head and closing his eyes, wishing he could shut his mind off as easily.
***
New York welcomed them with sunny weather, causing a smile to bloom on Catalina’s lips. But then she remembered they were not here for a romantic getaway but under much more morose circumstances, and her smile fell away.
She assumed Xan wanted to see his mother right away, so she was surprised when he gave the cab driver the hotel’s address instead, although she dreamed about a shower, nap and coffee, not caring much in which order they would arrive.
The Condor Hotel was nestled into a residential part of Brooklyn. It was quite a perfect place to stay in Williamsburg, since it was in walking distance of the nightlife, but far away enough so that a person didn’t have to deal with all the commotion and rowdy crowds.
The décor was chic, with a modern but cozy feel to it.
Catalina remembered from her previous stay that rooms were spacious, the staff very friendly and accommodating.
She took Xan’s hand in hers as they were going to their room, giving it a little squeeze, but he barely acknowledged it.
Cat wouldn’t be able to recall how many times exactly she bit her tongue since they left California, but it had to be a lot. She was silent nearly throughout the whole flight in order not to ask him about something that could have triggered his vicious memories. She even pretended to sleep, not finding anything better to do.
However, judging by the tenseness of his body, Xan was being bombarded by the ghosts of his past anyway.
She wanted to be able to say something profound that could help him deal with emotions. No matter what he said and what he pretended to believe in, she knew there were plenty of them swirling and sloshing within him, ready to spill. She was afraid that nothing but raw fury would come out of it when they finally spewed over.
It seemed inevitable.
Catalina was surprised she could recognize this violent need in him while she had spent her entire life mastering the art of not showing emotions, better yet–not feeling anything. But Xan was in her bloodstream, a part of her that was as familiar as if it has always belonged to her.
“Are you hungry? You should eat and rest, Kitten,” he said when they were alone in the room, and she nearly jumped out of her skin, surprised he had breached the silence.
The fact that his first words in some time were focused around her well-being managed to bring tears to her eyes. Tears she swallowed, not wanting to show him what a mess she was while he already had more than his fair share to deal with.
“I’m fine; how about you?” She dropped her purse on the bed and walked straight into his arms.
He surrounded her with his strength, hiding his face in her hair. Catalina kissed his neck, wanting to crawl underneath his skin to warm it up because he seemed cool for the first time since she has met him.
“What is your plan?” She wanted to know.
“A quick shower and then I will go to her. I may as well get it over with,” he shrugged.
“Alone?” She really didn’t want to intrude any more than she already had, but she came here to be with him, not to wait in the hotel room.
“You don’t need to feel obliged to do anything. Your presence alone is more than anyone could ask for,” Xan said and he meant it.
Holding her in his arms felt more soothing than anything else. Catalina was his safe haven, his breath of fresh air when the bleak reality was pressing at him too hard.
“I don’t. I wouldn’t have offered to be here if I hadn’t wanted it, Xan.” She rose on her tiptoes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
She flicked her tongue against his lips and licked, savoring his taste. The hand he had on her back pushed stronger, bringing her even closer as if he wanted to fuse their bodies together.
“I’m sorry, we don’t have time for it; it’s not what we came here for.”
“But I wish we had,” he sighed and let her go.
Disappointment pierced him like the most lethal of arrows, designed and aimed in the exact way it could do the most damage.
“Let’s go and visit Nina Thorpe if you are up for it,” he forced himself to say.
“Let’s do that.” She smiled at him.
***
Seven years, Xan thought, it’d been seven years since he paid New York a visit; as much time had passed since he saw his mother last as well.
He understood each and every single one of these years worked against Nina.
Only the eyes looking back at him from the old woman’s face felt familiar enough, although even they were red and puffy from tears, tired from the lack of sleep. Or maybe it was due to too many worries gnawing at her like the horde of wild dogs her husband liked so much to bet from time to time on.
She looked exactly like what and whom Robert Thorpe made of her: an old, worn-out and used-up woman with her heyday long past gone. Maybe she had been pretty at one time, but the only memory Xan had was her looking exactly like she did now–with no hope in her gaze whatsoever.
“Alexander,” she said, raising her hand to her hair in an automatic gesture known to every woman, but then the hand froze and fell down, as if she decided her looks didn’t matter after all.
“Mom.” He always felt uncomfortable with calling her that, promising himself to use her name the next time.
Yet each time the word slipped off his tongue before he could halt it, making him feel like the hopeless child he once was all over again.
“This is Catalina. She is with me.”
Simple words filled with unspoken promises he wanted to make and fulfill.
“I’m very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Thorpe.” Cat’s smile was full of sympathy and along with her words, it was a reminder explaining their presence in the house Xan promised himself never to step in. Although it was not the one he was a prisoner in so many years before that now it felt like in another lifetime.
“Thank you, please come in. I didn’t expect you to come; you never saw eye to eye with your father,” Nina said and his blood boiled at the mere mentioning of the old son of a bitch who had never been a father but a tormentor instead.
But Catalina’s hand brushed his and it was enough to stop the venom from pouring. For now, he thought, and clenched his jaw, knowing he was right all along and coming here was a mistake.
The air filling the apartment was stale and it was yet another vicious memory of times he wished he hadn’t been a part of. Yet he was and no amount of turning his back on it would change the facts.
Catalina’s eyes burned and she told herself it was because they were gritty from the lack of sleep, but the truth was her heart clenched and went to Xan.
A shadow of a boy resided in the grown man standing next to her and she wished she could take away his pain, to unburden him. But the look of pure hate entered his gaze when his mother mentioned her husband, and she could see clearly he would have given anything to be anywhere else right now but here.
She couldn’t blame him, because while Cat wanted to believe in second chances, she also knew there was not a sliver of one in the musty air permeating the place.
For some people there was no turning over a new leaf in life.
“Perhaps a cup of tea would make you feel better?” Catalina offered softly and went to the kitchen when Nina nodded.
He wanted to stop her–or better yet–follow her and take her away from this place. She should have looked ridiculous in the place that could use some cleaning and he wondered where all the money he had been sending went to.
But Cat seemed oblivious to the paltry condition of the apartment, utterly focused on bringing comfort to the woman she saw for the first time in her life.
She shamed and humbled him at once.
“She is a nice girl,” Nina said.
“She is,” Xan agreed, although that didn’t do her justice.
He waited for her to express surprise at what such
a nice girl would do with him, but his mother fell silent once more and he understood he was not the only one feeling awkward.
Absolutely nobody looking at the two of them could have said they were a mother and son. Were his thoughts not similar when Cat introduced him to Florence Bennett? He wondered then as well how was it possible the two women were blood related.
Another unexpected similarity, another thread bonding them at the very core, even though he would prefer to never acknowledge any of it.
He suspected that strangers would have found more in common than he shared with his mother, no matter how much they tried.
Not that they ever did, he stated bitterly.
“Do you need money?” He asked, because if the condition of the apartment was any indication, she could use some cash indeed.
“No, it’s taken care of. The funeral is tomorrow. Will you stay?” She wanted to know and he looked away unable to bear the pleading in her gaze.
“Yes.”
“I need to pack his… his things but I don’t… I just…” Tears started to slid down her cheeks and she choked back a sob.
“Here is your tea, Mrs. Thorpe; you should rest and we will help you with that tomorrow after the ceremony.” Catalina emerged from the kitchen with ready drink and solution.
He wanted to protest, to tell her to stop acting so fucking civilized because there was not even an ounce of a well mannered thought in his mind. But he bit his tongue, trying to keep a tight lid on the ferociousness tearing him apart as much as her sophistication was rubbing him raw.
“We will be there,” he said curtly to the stranger that was his mother.
CHAPTER 46
Catalina was shuddering slightly, standing under an umbrella in the Evergreens Cemetery in Brooklyn the next morning, at the funeral ceremony of a man she didn’t know yet despised with her whole heart.
The cemetery bordered Brooklyn and Queens, covering two hundred and twenty five acres of rolling hills and gently sloping meadows. The trees and flowering shrubs surrounding them were arranged in a park-like setting. Catalina thought it probably looked serene on a good day, but today was hardly one.
The sky opened up above their heads, pouring down in buckets, but she doubted it was a sign anyone up there was weeping after Robert Thorpe.
Five people including them and the priest accompanied Xan’s father to his final resting place, and Nina Thorpe was the only one shedding tears.
Cat couldn’t help herself and some part of her kept wondering if it was all true mourning or maybe those were tears of relief as well. Although she didn’t think the woman would have ever admitted it, even if that had been the case.
Xan stood tall and proud next to her, but he was closed off and as inviting as the weather lashing at them. His face was an implacable mask but his eyes were narrowed and she could see pure, unadulterated hate burning in the green depths.
It worried her greatly because the punishing emotion had been buzzing in his veins since the previous day and he barely said a word or two to her. She would have preferred him to feel triumphant over the dead body of his late father. Anything would be better than this rankling enmity, she thought.
It was obvious he found no peace whatsoever, but she hoped he would be able to obtain the closure she so wished for him with time. She well knew herself that there was no future if one lived in the past.
“Let’s go back to the hotel. I don’t want you to get cold in these wet clothes,” Xan whispered the words in her ear and she sighed slightly.
It should have pleased her that he was thinking about her no matter what, but even his care felt remote, scraping at her nerve endings, pushing her closer and closer to her tipping point.
“Okay,” she agreed.
She watched him exchange a word with his mother, who just nodded without even looking at him and she could just shake her head.
She would have given anything to go back in time and have one more chance to see her parents. Talk to them and hold them, knowing it was a goodbye and had to last her for eternity.
She wanted to believe something could be salvaged from Xan’s relationship with his mother, but now she knew better. Nothing was going to change the past and there was no future for them either.
They were silent during the drive back to the hotel and all the way upstairs toward their room. She wanted to change out of the wet black dress she wore to the funeral but she also wanted to talk to Xan, to reach him through the wall he managed to build around himself.
She glanced at the breakfast that was still sitting on the table. It was simple and delicious: fresh bagels, homemade waffles, fresh fruit, a variety of excellent brewed coffees and teas. At least she assumed it was delightful, but she wouldn’t know, since all either one of them had for breakfast was coffee alone.
However, pulsating anger and coffee were hardly going to be enough for long, Cat thought, and just like that, her outer calm burst like a bubble.
“Xan, talk to me please.”
He looked at her from where he was standing next to the bed, slowly unbuttoning his grey shirt. Even this shirt was like showing his deceased father the middle finger, she decided. He didn’t consider Robert Thorpe worthy of putting a black suit on.
No, not even close.
“About?” He raised one eyebrow but he didn’t particularly look interested in participating in conversation of any kind, Catalina noticed.
“Your feelings, plans, anything!” She clenched her hands, realizing she was close to throwing them in the air in a gesture of frustration.
His feigned calm was pushing her and it was her temper that started to ignite–not his–this time.
Xan sent her another glance, taking in her slightly disheveled look, deciding she looked utterly too tempting even damp from rain and with her cheeks flushed from the irritation he could glimpse in her eyes.
Or maybe because of that.
Nobody could have accused her of being collected and as untouchable as the porcelain doll he thought her to be, he decided.
He just wanted to be done with this day, this place and go back to his life as if nothing happened. Yet Catalina wanted to prod at things better left alone even though he couldn’t be clearer that was exactly how he wanted to play it.
He expected to be thrilled standing above his old man’s grave. It was almost as if finally having the last word in a forever-ongoing fight. But to his never-ending frustration, it didn’t happen.
He felt indifferent, if anything at all, although the presence of fury–constantly riding him hard–kept warning him there was more behind this veil that so conveniently separated him from the rest of the world.
“My plan is to get the fuck out of this damn city and get back to business as usual,” he said, not seeing any point in pretending otherwise since they both knew it for the truth it was.
“Just like that?” She looked at him incredulously, knowing his language deteriorated whenever his temper was getting the better of him… or whenever he felt it could help him intimidate someone.
“Just like that,” he agreed calmly even though he could feel this calm fraying at the edges, marking his vision with red spots.
“Xan…”
“Drop it, Catalina. I am grateful for your presence but I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t feel the need to analyze every damn thing I do. Are we clear?” He pierced her with a fierce look she didn’t seem to be taking seriously enough.
“Crystal!” She sent him a mocking salute and just like that he snapped.
“What the fuck do you want from me?” He yelled but she didn’t back down as he expected her, as he hoped her to.
“I want you to stop acting as if nothing touches you, that you are invincible and have zero feelings,” she stated calmly, but he was past the point of being self-possessed.
“You have no idea about my feelings!”
“Why don’t you enlighten me?”
“Do you want me to cry over all those years wasted on hating hi
m while he couldn’t be bothered to remember he had a son to begin with?!”
That was what he started to realize standing in the cemetery today, he thought. His presence there didn’t change a damn thing, not any more than his absence would. All that he was knew with a sobering clarity that if Robert Thorpe was given a second chance, he would have treated his son exactly the same if not worse. He would have taken the same wrong turns and wreaked havoc wherever he went. He didn’t spend one second on regretting and wishing to undo all the harm. People like him never did since they didn’t consider themselves the guilty party to begin with.
Cat closed her eyes because his words were causing pain to wake up somewhere within her that she couldn’t quite place. But it was as vicious as his memories, along with his thoughts and his anger sprouting from them.
“I want you to be real and honest about it, Xan. I want you to be anything at all because this indifference you are trying to pull off is not working.”
He huffed and dropped his wet shirt to the floor.
She hated the rough and cagey air around him whenever he mentioned his childhood or his father, but this anger was a festering wound within him, not letting him move on.
“Better yet, let’s talk about the fact I am just like him, harboring ill thoughts and feelings toward everyone and everything just like he did. Maybe that was what really killed him and not the knife of his inmate. What do you think? He was a murderer, liar and the biggest son of a bitch I have ever known. No matter what I do, his blood flows in my veins. Take a good look at me! This is a man you allowed into your life… into your bed!” He walked toward her and she saw a muscle in his jaw pulsating, just like his anger was vibrating in him.
A chill of foreboding coated his tongue and this invisible clock ticked even louder in his head, counting down their time together. The fact he was the one who set it into motion was completely irrelevant to him.
Catalina didn’t back away when he stalked closer to her and gripped her shoulders as if wanting to shake her. His touch was far from being hurtful because even in anger he never allowed himself to forget about his strength. And he was convinced he was just like his father, she thought. She raised her hands to cup his rigid jaw.
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