HICKEY

by Cora Brent

  “It’s our fault,” I told him when the clock fell silent. “I should have talked to you before I enlisted in the Army. I knew you wouldn’t approve and I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to go to college and I couldn’t stand to continue on at the dealership. I had to get out of here.”

  “Because you lost her,” my father said and when I met his eye he nodded. “I understand more than you think. When you lose the woman you love it’s a knife to the soul, even if you knew it had to happen. Even if you understand that you weren’t good for each other.”

  Nell’s laughter echoed from the kitchen again and a vague smile spread across his face.

  “Yet you’ll discover that life can surprise you when you’re not even looking,” he said.

  At the time my father married Nell I was a little baffled, figuring she was just a placeholder to deal with his loneliness. Watching them together over the last few days showed me how wrong I’d been. I had to wonder what else I’d been wrong about.

  “I’ve been a lousy father in some ways,” he said. “I should have always let you know how much I love you. You’re my son, Branson. That didn’t change just because you became your own man.”

  My chest got tight as I listened to my father say things that I never knew I always wanted to hear from him.

  “I love you too, Dad,” I said, trying to keep the tremor of emotion out of my voice. Then I wondered why I was trying to do that. Emotion wasn’t a bad thing. We should unleash it. We should let the people we loved know how we felt. We should tell them the complete truth while we still had the chance.

  When I walked over to my father’s wheelchair and embraced him tightly in the living room of my childhood, I felt like something important had been settled. Maybe my father did too.

  “You flying out in the morning?” he asked when the moment passed.

  “Yeah. Early. I’ve already arranged for an Uber pickup to the airport.”

  “You think you’ll be staying out west for a while?”

  “For a while,” I said carefully, thinking of Cecily.

  My realtor had called to say that an apartment complex a mile from the university was transitioning to condos. The owner was still renovating but the first units were going on the market within the next few weeks. It was an ideal setup, if I planned on remaining in the Phoenix area.

  “Holidays are coming up in a few months,” my dad said. “I know it’s asking a lot but maybe you’d consider flying out. We’d love to have you home for Christmas.”

  I cracked a smile. “I think I can probably swing that.”

  My dad seemed like he wanted to return to his book. Nell and Kayla were still in the kitchen where they were continuing to carry on about baby stuff and whether yellow or green was the best color for the nursery. Since I didn’t want any part of that discussion I headed out the back door.

  The yard had seen better days; the gardens were long gone and the grass was basically a weed farm. Some kind of morbid instinct drew to me to the same spot where I’d been standing when I watched Cecily exit my life. At the time I thought I was doing the right thing by giving her the chance to start over. Now I knew that what I’d done was rob Cecily of the chance to make up her own mind. There was no telling how that betrayal had scarred her, whether she’d lost out on love and other chances because her trust had been so shattered once.

  Maybe when I drove her away seven years ago I hadn’t just condemned my own heart, but hers as well. And if that was the case, what fucking right did I have to reenter her life?

  None.

  But that hadn’t stopped me. I’d returned to her life without warning, without permission and now I owed her some closure. Actually I owed her a whole lot more than that.

  I owed her countless apologies for things both past and present. I owed her gratitude for giving me the best memories of my life. More than anything, I owed her a big dose of belated honesty. And this time I’d make her listen.

  While my mind churned, I paced back and forth. At this time tomorrow I would be back in Arizona. Cecily and I were due for a heartfelt discussion and if she wanted to scream ‘Fuck you!’ a thousand times in my face that was fine. I’d wasted enough time and nothing was going to stop me from telling her the things I should have said seven years ago.

  “Bran?” called a voice and I spun around.

  The sun got in my eyes and for an instant I thought it was her, that Cecily was here, standing on the wide concrete driveway that stretched between the house and the garage. But I knew better than that even before I blinked and saw the truth.

  “Hey, Kayla,” I said, doing my best to sound friendly.

  She smiled and walked in my direction. “I wasn’t sure I should bother you. You looked kind of intense.”

  “It’s no bother.”

  She stopped a few feet away and swept some strands of loose hair out her eyes.

  “I just wanted to say goodbye,” she said gently, resting her palms on her pregnant stomach. “My mom said you’re leaving tomorrow.”

  “Yep, bright and early.”

  Kayla bit a corner of her lip and scanned the backyard. “She also said your dad mentioned that Cecily lives out there too. In Arizona.”

  “Along with millions of other people,” I said. Cecily was not a subject I cared to discuss with my stepsister.

  Kayla flashed me a knowing look. “It’s none of my business. Really, I’m the last person who should be asking.” She looked down at her stomach and her voice dropped. “I still feel guilty.”

  I let out a sigh. “I wish you wouldn’t.”

  She raised her head and gave me a pleading look. “Just the same, I’m sorry, Bran. I’ve tried to tell you that before but you never wanted to hear it. But I am sorry.”

  I coughed. “It’s not your fault. I could have told her the truth. I had weird ideas that I was being a hero by letting her go.”

  “But you loved her.”

  “I still do.”

  She brightened. “So you guys are together?”

  “No, we’re not.”

  Now her eyes filled with pity. “Why?”

  “I guess I waited too long. I allowed too many years to go by, too much bitterness to build. I knew Cecily wouldn’t forgive me for screwing around with you. I knew damned well she’d leave. Now it’s too late to undo the damage that I caused.”

  “But Bran,” Kayla said and now she was looking at me funny. “Cecily knew you didn’t cheat on her.”

  “No.” I shook my head, getting a little irritable over dredging up all this garbage. “No, she didn’t know. I let her leave here with a broken heart, thinking I didn’t even love her enough to keep my zipper closed.”

  Kayla touched my arm. “But I talked to her.”

  This was news to me and I didn’t really believe it. It seemed very unlikely that Cecily and Kayla would have had anything to say to each other in those last days.

  “What?”

  She gave me a sad smile and dropped her hand. “Back then I was just starting to feel a sense of personal responsibility. I knew you loved her and I rightfully felt like shit for doing everything I could to bust you guys up. So the day after she walked in on us I went to go see her while she was working at Berto’s. She looked like she might stab me with a fork but she listened when I started talking. Bran, Cecily knew you never touched me. I told her all about it, how I crawled into your bed looking for something I had no right to ask for.”

  I stared at Kayla, at her earnest face, at the ring on her left hand and the small belly she cradled protectively with her arms. There was no reason on earth to lie to me now.

  “She didn’t believe you,” I said firmly, thinking of that scene at the diner.

  “YOU FUCKED YOUR STEPSISTER!”

  Kayla’s mouth twisted into a frown. “It seemed like she did. She got real quiet and kind of slumped against the wall. Then she looked at me and said, ‘There’s no difference.’ She left a few days later.”

  “Yes, she did
,” I muttered, glancing up at the door to our old apartment. I thought back to that day, to the last words she’d said to me as she packed up. I had just pointed out that now she might have a chance to go to art school, that this was a beginning for her, not an end. She’d stopped what she was doing and whispered the very same words she’d said to Kayla.

  “There’s no difference.”

  “She didn’t tell me,” I said, thinking out loud at this point. “And for all these years I thought she despised me for the wrong reason. I just don’t get it.”

  Kayla cocked her head. “Maybe she was waiting.”

  “For what?”

  “To see if you’d come after her.” Kayla shrugged. “Maybe she didn’t even want to admit to herself that was what she wanted.”

  But I hadn’t come after her, not for seven years.

  And for the first time it dawned on me that to Cecily that might be the most unforgivable thing I could have done.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Cecily

  When I was on my way to the lobby vending machine, Bran’s roommate, Kevin, bumped into me. Literally, not figuratively. He staggered around a corner at high speed and his bony shoulder knocked me into a wall.

  “Sorry,” he slurred, lurching the other way.

  He smelled as if he’d just bathed in a barrel of beer. He looked like he had lost a battle with his own self-control.

  “Are you okay?” I asked as I rubbed my shoulder. Despite the sore spot where I’d collided with the wall, Kevin definitely seemed like he was worse off.

  “Uh-huh,” he said and his eyes struggled to focus on me. “Oh hey, it’s you.”

  I opened my mouth, preparing to lecture him. Despite the fact that it was scarcely seven p.m. he was definitely bombed out of his skull.

  But then he asked, “You seen Maura?”

  His words were drawn out drunkenly and I saw the misery in his eyes. It was the same kind I’d seen in Maura’s face an hour ago when she knocked on my door and told me she and Kevin were finished. He confessed that he’d been screwing around with some other girl.

  “No,” I lied, knowing that Maura had told me she was going to the Student Union to hear a Women’s Club poetry reading. If Kevin went stumbling out of here in search of his lost love in this condition, he was bound to get picked up by campus security, particularly if he initiated a public confrontation.

  “Let’s get you back to your room,” I said, taking his arm and leading him toward the staircase. I was obligated to report Kevin for underage drinking in the dorm but I knew I wouldn’t be able to bring myself to do it. If he just returned to his room and slept it off I could pretend I’d never seen him.

  Kevin didn’t resist. He allowed me to march him back to his room as if I was a parent and he was my child.

  As soon as I pushed open the door to the main third floor corridor I wrinkled my nose. “Smells like charred eggs up here,” I muttered.

  “Where?” Kevin asked, hiccupping.

  “Never mind,” I said, propelling him in the direction of his room.

  Cooking appliances other than microwaves were forbidden in the rooms after several near disasters in recent years. There was a kitchen down on the first floor for anyone who was in the mood to do some real cooking. But sometimes the kids ignored the rules and used toaster ovens, electric skillets or indoor grills. I decided I ought to knock on a few doors and issue some warnings once I got Kevin settled. If the fire sprinklers were set off that would turn this into a bad night for everyone.

  “Where’s your key?” I asked Kevin. We’d reached his door but he just kind of slumped against the frame and closed his eyes like he might take a nap in that position.

  “Mphmpm,” he mumbled and then gave me a view of his tonsils as he yawned.

  I rolled my eyes and was about to search his pockets for the key card when the door was abruptly thrown open.

  “Bran!” The gasp escaped me before I could stop it.

  He nodded coolly in my direction. “Cess.”

  “I – uh- didn’t know you were back,” I stammered, feeling my face redden.

  “Just got in this afternoon.”

  “Oh.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Have you been looking for me?”

  I suddenly felt a bit lightheaded. “No. I mean, sort of. I came by the other night. Kevin told me you went home for a few days.”

  Bran crossed his arms, looked me up and down. He had a unique way of doing that and it had always made me feel utterly undressed. “Yeah, I did go home,” he said. “Now I’m back.”

  For the first time he noticed his roommate slumped against the wall right outside the door and frowned. “What the hell happened to him?”

  I looked at Kevin. “I found him stumbling around the first floor and I wanted to bring him home before he got into trouble.”

  Bran brushed past me to get to his friend’s side. Meanwhile, my pulse was rising by the second and I couldn’t do a thing about it. Bran was going for the scruffy unshaven look again and his clean white t-shirt was practically molded to his muscles. He looked better every time I saw him and the reaction of my body was as instant, and involuntary, as ever.

  “Kev,” he said softly, slapping the boy’s cheek lightly. “Wake up, buddy.”

  Kevin opened his eyes. He broke into a lazy grin. “Bran,” he said and then his face contorted as he pitched forward. “Fuck, I’m gonna hurl.”

  “Hold on,” Bran ordered, bracing an arm around him before dragging him inside and toward the bathroom.

  I glanced up and down the hall, relieved to find it empty for once even though the air still smelled like a rancid cookout. With a sigh I followed them inside, closing the door behind me.

  “Easy,” Bran was saying amid the sounds of retching and splashing. “Get it all out.”

  The toilet flushed and I surveyed the room, wondering if I ought to just leave. I hadn’t expected to see Bran and hadn’t mustered the mental courage to deal with him right now. All day I’d been so sure he must still be in Ohio, as if I possessed some uncanny ability to sense his nearness.

  It was a ridiculous thought considering how stunned I’d been to discover he’d moved in upstairs.

  As I took note of the room’s layout I knew which side of the room was Bran’s without being told. It was spare and neat and manly, whereas Kevin’s side looked like a miniature frat house, complete with smut posters, beer bottles, a shelf of dirty shot glasses and a half eaten pizza.

  I started to sit on Bran’s bed but then decided that was too intimate so I stood up. Then I sat down again. After all, I used to be married to the guy. We’d even fucked downstairs in my bedroom pretty recently. Surely I could sit on the edge of his bed for a few minutes.

  The bed smelled like his aftershave and just like that there was no stopping a sudden flashback of Bran dropping his pants and unveiling his super sized dick. My cheeks flamed as a bolt of arousal ripped through my belly. I was totally turned on, despite the fact that few soundtracks were less sexy than the echo of the copious vomiting coming from the next room.

  I hastily gave up on the bed and moved to the desk chair. It seemed far less erotic.

  “Fuck,” moaned Kevin from the bathroom, followed by the sound of more gagging. It was hard to believe so much liquid could pour out of one skinny guy. The toilet flushed again.

  “You done?” Bran asked.

  “I think so,” Kevin mumbled.

  I heard a faucet running and then a moment later a flushed and shirtless Kevin stumbled into the room, followed by Bran.

  “You okay?” I asked Kevin as he collapsed on his bed.

  “Puked on my shirt,” he said and yawned.

  Bran was grabbing a couple of bottled waters from the tiny fridge in the corner.

  “Drink these,” he ordered Kevin.

  “I’ll do it later,” Kevin grumbled and rolled over.

  Bran’s mouth was set in a grim line. “Do it now, kid, or I swear to god I’ll haul your
bony ass to the ER.”

  I jerked with surprise over his sharp tone.

  Then I remembered.

  Caden.

  As Bran was monitoring his young friend’s alcohol explosion he no doubt thought of his older brother passing out on the floor of a dirty garage and slipping into a coma. Caden was probably never very far from Bran’s thoughts even now, over a decade later. The wounds of some terrible events never really healed. All we could do was patch over them the best we could and keep living.

  My heart swelled with sympathy as I watched Bran encourage Kevin to drink the water. He even took the pillows from his own bed and used them to prop up Kevin in a sitting position so he wouldn’t risk choking on his own vomit in his sleep.

  “Shit, I’m fine,” Kevin said irritably but he accepted Bran’s help before settling back on the bed. He looked a little pale but he didn’t seem that bad off to me.

  “How many fingers am I holding up?” Bran challenged him.

  Kevin cracked an eye. “Thirty six.”

  “Count again or I’m making good on my Emergency Room threat.”

  Kevin smiled. “Four. Look, dude, I’m good.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah.” Kevin yawned again and shut his eyes. “I kind of want to take a nap though so be cool and turn out the light.”

  I rose from the chair and went to Bran’s side. He looked surprised to see me so close. Tentatively I touched his arm and felt the muscles ripple beneath my fingertips.

  “I think he’s all right,” I said softly. “He’ll just have a hell of a headache in the morning.”

  Bran looked doubtful but then he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m overreacting,” he said with a grimace.

  “You think?” Kevin grumbled from the bed.

  Bran nudged him with a knee. “Call me if you need anything.”

  “Will do.” Kevin pulled his comforter over his bare shoulders and it struck me how very young he looked. “Do me a favor and turn my sound machine on full blast, would ya?”

  Bran walked over to a small table beneath the sole window in the room and flipped on the small black box that sat atop it. Immediately the static sound of white noise filled the room.