Only Him

by Melanie Harlow

  She tilted her head. “Are you? Or are you using this whole refusal to have the surgery thing to get back at your family? Maybe even to punish yourself for hurting Maren?”

  “Jesus, Bea. All I wanted was some ink. Not a therapy session.”

  She smiled. “Lucky you, it comes free with a tattoo today.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to do it?”

  “I’m deciding.” She leaned her elbows on the table. “What is getting this tattoo going to do? If she won’t see it, it won’t help you get her back.”

  “It’s not for her,” I said quietly. “It’s for me. I want her with me, Bea. I’ll always want her with me.”

  She sighed, her eyes tearing up again. “You’re starting to get to me, Dallas.”

  “Good.”

  Pulling on her disposable gloves, she shook her head. “I’m only doing this because I believe in my heart that you do love her, and that someday you’re going to take your head out of your ass so you can be with her.”

  I didn’t say anything while she worked, and I welcomed the sting of the needle. It was a fraction of the pain I would have endured for her, and it made me feel like I was doing something about my feelings. As I watched Beatriz’s hands, I thought about Dr. Acharya’s, how capable they’d looked. I thought about how Finn had said the surgery could be done in ten days. I thought about the abrupt way I’d left my brother’s house, angry and resentful, when I knew he was only trying to help.

  And I thought about what it would be like if the tables were turned, and it was Finn with the tumor—or God forbid, one of the kids. Or Maren. I’d want them to have the surgery, too. I’d fight them if they argued. I’d tell them it was worth the risks.

  When it was done, Beatriz covered it with a bandage and tried to send me home. “You look like shit. Have you even slept since you left here?”

  “Very little in the last few days,” I admitted.

  “Go home and sleep. And don’t come back here until you’ve scheduled that surgery. I mean it. I will fire your ass if you don’t.”

  I gave her a tight-lipped smile.

  She gave me a hug and sighed. “Maybe you should come back later so I can cleanse your aura. It’s all kinds of fucked up.”

  That reminded me of something. “Maren cleared my chakras while I was in Detroit.”

  “She did?” Beatriz looked surprised. “How was it?”

  “It was … mind-blowing.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Something tells me it devolved into another activity entirely.”

  I paused. “Yeah. It did.”

  She patted me on the shoulder. “It happens. I wish I could meet this girl. She sounds amazing.”

  Closing my eyes, I swallowed the tightness in my throat. “She is.”

  I went home and tried to take a nap, but failed. After an hour or so, I gave up, took the bandage off my tattoo and washed it off. The skin was pink and tender, and the sight of her name on my body made me both happy and sad. I applied some ointment, put on some hiking shorts and a long-sleeved shirt to keep my arm covered, grabbed a bottle of water, and drove to Powell Butte. I was nearly ready to make the call to my brother, but I felt like I needed a little more time. I needed to do this for me, not because Finn or my parents or Evan or Beatrix or even Maren wanted me to.

  While I hiked, I thought a lot about my childhood—my parents, my relationship with my brother, my behavior. The way I purposefully defied my parents to make a point. The way I refused to try my best at school so that no one could tell me my best wasn’t good enough. The way I sought solace in art but never felt like I was taken seriously. The kind of parent I would be if I ever had the chance.

  Finn was a good dad, I’d give him that, but I’d work way less than he did. I wanted to be there swimming in the pool with my family and putting the hot dogs on the grill, not coming home after dinner was already on the table. Our dad, a corporate attorney, had worked a lot too.

  At one point I stepped off the trail for a water break, and stood for a moment looking at Mount Hood in the distance. Its snowy peak never failed to take my breath away. I’d climbed it once and had always wanted to do it again—the view from the summit at sunrise was stunning, the kind of view that made you glad to be alive.

  A few hours later I drove back home, sweaty and famished and tired, but certain of what I should do. When I pulled into my driveway, I was shocked to see Finn sitting on my front porch.

  Not once had Finn ever come to see me anywhere I’d lived.

  I got out of the car and walked toward him slowly.

  “Hey,” Finn said, rising to his feet.

  “Hey.” I thought about offering my hand, but while I was doing that, he came forward and hugged me.

  It was a little awkward—he and I weren’t huggers—but kind of nice too. “Sorry for showing up like this,” he said as he released me.

  “It’s okay.” I scratched my head. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to talk to you.”

  I probably should have told him right then I’d decided to have the surgery, but I didn’t. Some part of me wanted to hear what he was going to say first. “Want to come in?”

  “Sure.”

  We walked to the front porch, where I noticed he had a small carry-on bag. “This is quite a surprise.”

  “I know.” He picked up the bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Bree said I should call, but I wasn’t sure you’d have let me come. And I wanted to say some things in person.”

  “Okay.” I unlocked the front door and we went in. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

  “No, thanks. I’m fine.” He set his bag down while I turned on the living room lamps, then took a seat on a chair adjacent to the couch. “I’m here to apologize.”

  I sat on the couch. Folded my arms over my chest. “For what?”

  “For not being a better older brother. If I had been, you’d still be at my house, and you’d have an easier time taking my advice.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “You had it rougher than I did growing up, and I don’t think I understood that until I had my own kids. Being a dad has made me rethink some things.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I want the chance to be better, Dallas. I came here to say I’m sorry and also to say …” He sat up taller and sort of puffed out his chest. “I’m—we’re, Bree and the kids and Mom and Dad—not giving up on you. We’re your family, dammit, and we want you around.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. Has Mom been calling?”

  “Yes. And Dad.”

  “I told them what was going on, and I also told them that if we expect you to care what we want, we have to show you we care about you. I don’t think we’ve shown it enough.” He paused. “I talked to them about the past, asked them to imagine what it was like for you. I hadn’t done that either until now.”

  I wasn’t sure I liked the idea of the three of them all sitting around talking about me like that, but maybe it’s what had to happen. “What did they say?”

  Finn sat back. “What you’d expect, at first. Claiming they never favored me, they treated us both the same, it was you who forced them to be hard on you. But the more we talked, the more they saw things from your perspective. I think they should hear it from you—I can only really guess from things you’ve said how you felt—but I think they’re willing to listen to you.”

  I sighed. “I don’t even know if there’s a point to that. The past is past.”

  “The point is to take responsibility for the way we treat others. Actions have consequences. I should have stuck up for you, Dallas, and I didn’t. And if the consequence of that is losing you, I—” A strange choking sound erupted from his throat and he dropped his head.

  I was shocked. Finn was crying.

  Maybe there was hope yet. Maybe it wasn’t too late.

  “I’m going to have the surgery.”

  He looked up. “You are?”

  “Yes. I’ll call Dr. Acharya�
�s office in a minute.”

  “Oh, thank God.” Finn closed his eyes, and a tear slid down his cheek.

  Embarrassed, I got off the couch, went into the kitchen and grabbed the tissue box. Then I tossed it onto the table next to Finn. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” He pulled one from the box and blew his nose.

  I sat down again. “Do Mom and Dad know you’re here?”

  He nodded. “They wanted to come out here too, but I said no. I thought that would be too much.”

  “Thank you. It would have been.”

  “God, I’m so relieved.” Finn exhaled. “I can’t tell you how scared I was that you were going to say no or just shut the door in my face.”

  That sounded familiar. “I know the feeling.”

  “Have you spoken to Maren?”

  I shook my head.

  “Are you going to let her know what you decided?”

  “No.”

  Finn looked like he wanted to say more, but decided not to. He pulled out his phone instead. “Here. I’ve got Dr. Acharya’s office number. Can I call?”

  I shrugged. “Sure.”

  He tapped the screen a few times and handed the phone to me. His expression was pure relief. “Here you go. You’re doing the right thing.”

  After I finished the call with Dr. Acharya’s office—my craniotomy was scheduled for next Friday, one week from tomorrow—I took a quick shower, being careful not to get my new ink wet. I couldn’t wait for it to heal so I could look at it every day. I was hoping that being able to see it would ease some of the ache in my heart.

  Finn and I went out for something to eat, and for maybe the first time in our lives, really enjoyed each other’s company. We talked openly about all kinds of things, and he asked a lot of questions. For once, I didn’t feel like he was judging my answers. We were two brothers on equal footing who had taken different—and somewhat distant—paths in life, but who wanted to change that. It was nice.

  He accepted my offer to stay the night in my guest room, and when we got back to my house he looked around at some of the art I had hanging on the walls. Moving closer to a sketch I’d done of a barn and rural landscape while working on the ranch, he pointed at it. “Did you do this?”

  “Yeah.”

  He turned around and looked at me, as if in awe, then turned to the sketch again. “Dallas. This is amazing.”

  I shrugged, but I was pleased. “Thanks.”

  “And these?” He moved on to a trio of portraits I’d done of a friend a couple years ago. Each one showed her face from a different angle. She wasn’t particularly beautiful, but her face had interesting angles.

  “Yes.”

  He stared a little longer, then shook his head. “Incredible. Maybe you can draw the kids sometime. I’d love to have something like this.”

  “Of course.”

  “You’re really fucking talented.”

  I laughed, a little embarrassed now. “Thanks. So how about that tattoo? Have you thought more about it? I could do it tomorrow,” I offered. “After that, it might be a while.”

  He faced me. “That’s not a bad idea. I don’t have to fly back to Boston until Saturday.”

  “Cool. We’ll go into the shop tomorrow. I’d like you to meet Beatriz, the woman who owns it, and maybe my friend Evan, if he’s working, although his wife just had a baby this week, so I’m not sure if he’s back yet.”

  “Sounds good.”

  We went upstairs, and I showed him the guest room where he could sleep. “Towels are in the hall closet here. Bathroom right across the hall.”

  “Thanks.” He paused before going into the room and looked at me. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am, Dallas. Everything is going to be different from now on. Everything is going to get better.”

  For once, I wanted him to be right.

  Later that night, I lay in bed listening to a summer storm and thinking about Maren. Was she okay? Did she hate me? Would she even care that I’d scheduled the surgery? I spent an hour obsessing over her Instagram account, but seeing her photos only frustrated me—I couldn’t smell her or taste her or touch her or hear her. I needed something more. Even the tattoo on my arm wasn’t enough.

  I typed a message to her.

  Are you awake?

  My heart beat fast as I waited for a response. When I didn’t get one after a full minute, it sank in my chest.

  Probably not. It’s late here, so it’s even later for you. Even if you were, you probably wouldn’t reply. I don’t blame you.

  I closed my eyes, fighting back tears. There was so much I couldn’t say and so little I could.

  Anyway, I just wanted to say once more that I’m sorry about what happened. I never meant to hurt you. I promise I won’t contact you again.

  I hit send and watched the blue bubble with my bullshit words appear on the screen. They made me so angry, I felt like throwing my phone out the bedroom window just to hear the sound of breaking glass. A moment later, my jaw dropped.

  Three gray dots were fading in and out, indicating she was answering my message.

  Maren: I’m awake. I can’t sleep.

  Me: The nightmare?

  It took her a long time to reply, so I was surprised to see only one word appear.

  Maren: Yes.

  I pictured her in her bed, the bed I’d shared with her less than a week ago. My chest tightened. My arms twitched. I wanted to hold her so badly.

  I wanted to tell her I hadn’t lied, I did love her, I always would. I wanted to beg her to forgive me so we could have that second chance. I wanted to tell her that Finn had come to see me and we’d had a really good talk. I wanted to bring her to Portland and ask her to climb Mount Hood with me, snuggle with her in a sleeping bag to keep warm, rise before the sun to make the final ascent, and hold her hand when we made it to the top and took in the view. I wanted to show her my new tattoo and say, This is forever, you and me. I know it.

  But in the end, all I had were the same two inadequate words.

  Me: I’m sorry.

  I waited hours for a reply that never came.

  Eighteen

  Maren

  “Are you sure about this?” Emme eyeballed the sign on Madam Psuka’s door.

  MADAM PSUKA: Psychic, Medium, Clairvoyant, Intuitive

  Palm Readings, Dream Analysis, Spiritual Channeling, & Numerology

  FIRST READING FREE*

  *does not include Spiritual Channeling

  It was Thursday afternoon, and we were slightly early for my three o’clock appointment. “No, I’m not sure. But I’m desperate. I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in forever. I have to do something, and Allegra said this woman is really good.”

  Emme shrank back a little and sniffed. “Smells weird in here. Like something’s burning.” She glanced down the stairs we’d just come up like she might make a run for it. We were standing on the second floor landing of an old Victorian building that had two storefronts on the ground level and apartments above. Madam Psuka was in 2A.

  “I told you that you didn’t have to come with me,” I said irritably.

  “I know, I know. But people are crazy. You shouldn’t go to a stranger’s house alone, and this place feels creepy.” She sighed. “But if you think this will help, I will fully support you.”

  “Thank you.” I rapped on the door three times. After a moment, it opened and a woman I presumed was Madam Psuka appeared. She was in her fifties, I guessed, with lots of curly dyed blond hair showing a good solid inch of brown and gray roots. Her face was buried beneath layers of makeup, and her eyebrows had been almost completely plucked but penciled in thick and black. She wore jeans, a brightly colored blouse, and no shoes.

  She paused dramatically, drawing herself up. “Velcome.”

  “Hello,” I said. “I’m Maren Devine.”

  “Yes.” She nodded like she’d known this already. “And this is your sister?”

  I glanced at Emme, wondering if the resemblance was so stron
g it was obvious we were siblings or if this woman was actually psychic. “Uh, yeah. Is it okay if she stays with me for the reading?”

  Madam Psuka didn’t answer right away. Instead she looked back and forth between the two of us, like she was trying to figure something out. “You have very different energies.”

  “Yes,” I said, tucking my hair behind my ears. “I’m here because—”

  “You are restless,” she finished. “You are in chaos. You seek peace and cannot find it.”

  Emme and I exchanged a look.

  “And you.” The madam looked Emme up and down. “You are in balance. Is unusual for you.”

  “Yes,” Emme said, beaming. “I think it’s because—”

  “But,” Madam Psuka interrupted, holding up a finger to silence her. “Great change is coming.”

  Emme’s smiled grew even bigger. “I’m getting married.”

  “No.” Madam Psuka dismissed my sister’s matrimony with a wave of her hand. “Is not that.”

  Emme grabbed my arm. “You mean I’m not getting married?”

  “Listen,” I said, getting a little nervous. “I’m here to—”

  “Yes, you are getting married,” said the madam with a slight roll of her eyes, like it wasn’t that important. “But there is a greater change coming.”

  “Greater than that?” Emme shook her head. “I can’t imagine what it could be. We already moved into a new house. I’m not looking for a new job.”

  “Change is vithin,” said Madam Psuka smugly.

  “It is?” Emme looked confused. “I can’t imagine what it is, unless…” She glanced down at her stomach and put a hand over it. “Oh, no.”

  Great, now Emme was going to get dramatic. Did everything always have to be about her?

  “It can’t be.” She continued to stare at her stomach.

  “Oh, I think it can.” Madam Psuka nodded knowingly. “Vould you like to come in?”

  Emme was silent and frozen.

  “Yes, please,” I said, guiding my stunned sister inside the apartment. “Thank you.”

  Madam Psuka shut the door behind us, and I had to squint as I looked around. Very little light filtered through the windows, which were all covered in multi-colored panels of fabric. Tapestries, paintings, and blankets covered the walls, and the floors were covered with faded rugs as well. She had no couch or chairs, but large pillows in every hue lined the walls or sat in heaps in the corners. It was sort of like being in a very colorful padded cell. She had stacks of books everywhere, beaded rope hanging from corner to corner, and several giant green plants. How they survived with so little natural light, I had no idea.