Hurry Home

by Roz Nay

  Now’s my moment. “It’s too bad Alex can’t have kids.”

  He immediately stops folding.

  I pause. “Oh, you do know why, right?” I say, because it’s now or never. “She was so young. It was hard on her then, when it happened, and I guess the impact just never goes away.”

  He looks at me, confused. “When what happened?”

  “The abortion.” It comes out of me so suddenly, like poison expelled.

  “What are you talking about? What abortion?”

  “Nothing. My mistake. Forget I said anything.”

  There’s a moment of heavy silence.

  “I don’t know anything you’re talking about.”

  “I’m concerned about Alex.” More silence. “She never told you why she might be infertile?”

  His eyes are wide, shocked. He shakes his head.

  “She was only fifteen.” I try to keep the desperation out of my voice. I will sound calm and collected. “Chase, maybe it’s not my place to say so, but don’t you think it’s odd that there’s so much she hasn’t told you? Doesn’t it make you wonder if…”

  He licks his lips. “If what?”

  “Nothing. Never mind.” I get up from the stool and take a few steps toward the couch as if we’re done with the conversation. That’s when he draws me back.

  “We had a good talk last month. She opened up and told me a lot of things. She even explained about Sully. It’s just a work thing. She promised not to be in touch with him after hours. So it’s not what you think. She’s private, for sure, but she’s not … you know. We’re close, and she wouldn’t keep something like that from me. Not something so … so formative, and upsetting. She would have told me.”

  “Are you sure?” I said. “Do you really think I’d make up something like that about my own sister?” I stand in my place, feet planted, strong. “Sacred Heart Medical Clinic, in Horizon, North Dakota. There’s only one such clinic. September 2009. I took her there myself.”

  He’s stock-still, stress beating out of him like a pulse. I let him suffer while I look at my phone.

  “Also, Chase, I think this guy who’s after me, Eli Beck, he came here, to your loft, and Alex was home. She didn’t tell us. Not you. Not me. Are you sure Alex broke your canvas painting while she was vacuuming? My sister is not that clumsy.”

  He looks so young and bewildered. I hand him my cell and let him scroll through Eli’s texts. “I haven’t lied about Eli, Chase. I haven’t lied to you about anything. But Alex has.”

  He reads the texts, then gives me back my phone. “I need to … I can’t…,” he says. “I don’t know what’s going on. Why would she hide that? Why? It doesn’t even make sense.”

  In my mind, over and over, I’m pleading with him to believe me. Be the very first one.

  “Chase, where did those drugs in your bathroom go? Did you find them? Did you take them?”

  He looks at me with disgust. “No! Of course not,” he says.

  “I know,” I say. “And I didn’t take them, either.”

  I can see the wheels in his mind turning. His eyes are round and sad.

  “I need your help, Chase. Alex needs your help. Something’s not right.”

  Behind us both there’s the sound of a key in the front-door lock. Chase visibly panics, moves two steps away from me as Alex lets herself in. She turns, takes in the thickness of atmosphere in the room. In the silence, the rain hammers outside.

  “Hi. What’s … what’s going on?” She looks from my face to Chase’s and back again.

  “Nothing,” we say in stereo sound. Her face is sweet, but there’s something scribbled under the surface of her, a more jagged outline in red, like anger. It reminds me of her at fourteen, acing tests while she acted out, angelic to everyone who wasn’t looking properly. But I’ve always seen through her. Always.

  “C’mon. What were you two talking about?”

  “We were just having a chat,” Chase says. He doesn’t go to her. He doesn’t touch her, doesn’t kiss her.

  Alex moves toward me by the couch. “That sounds nice. Ruth, you should be lying down. The baby, remember?” Her voice is altogether too saccharine, but I sit down. She’s about to say something else, but her phone dings. She pulls it out of her pants pocket. Her eyes dart to the screen as she sets it on the coffee table. Quickly I shoot a look at Chase. He’s barely keeping his head above water.

  “So what else have you—” she begins, but the phone dings again.

  “Who’s texting you?” Chase asks.

  “I’ve no idea. It’s my work phone, and I’m off duty.”

  “Then let me see it,” Chase says, his hand out.

  “Chase.” Alex swipes the phone off the table and puts it in her back pocket. “It’s just work. Calm down.”

  “Is it really work, or is it Eli?” I ask.

  She sets her jaw, her cheeks gathering fire. “What are you talking about?”

  “Was he here?” Chase asks quietly. “Did this Eli guy come to our apartment?”

  “No,” she says, crossing her arms.

  “He was here,” I say. “I know he was.”

  “He texted Ruth about you,” Chase adds.

  “And I’m starting to think you know exactly where that coffee tin is,” I say, emboldened by Chase’s support.

  Alex’s face is blotching. “What the fuck is wrong with both of you?” she says, but she doesn’t move. It’s a pathetic defense, and even Chase realizes it.

  I hand her my phone and show her his texts; she reads them, her lips silently shaping the words. For a second I wonder if she’ll whip the phone across the room. “So some drug dealer says he came here. And you believe him? Are you really that dumb? And Chase”—she turns to him and he bristles—“I expected more out of you. Is this what you two have been conspiring about?”

  “She told me that—”

  “Of course she did!” Alex snaps. “Haven’t you listened to a single word I’ve said? I warned you all along that she was trouble! She’s driving us apart, Chase. Can’t you see that? She’d do or say anything to steal my happiness.”

  My heart is pounding again. Chase looks contrite. I need him on my side. I won’t let her win this fight. She’s won too many of the others.

  “I think I’ll tell Sully everything,” I say. “Seems to me this is getting serious, if Eli is coming to the house and threatening my sister. And if my sister isn’t saying he was here. And where did those drugs go, exactly? It’s a mystery I just can’t solve alone. I think I need to get the police involved.”

  “Do you really think Sully will believe you over me? Did you ever consider that he might arrest you for harboring illegal drugs in the first place?” she says.

  Her eyes start to tear up. I know it’s rage, but she’s so good that it doesn’t look that way. This is her last-ditch effort to gain Chase’s sympathy.

  “Do either of you know what I do all day?” she says. “At home, at work, with you, with Buster, with Sully? I’m constantly trying to save everyone! And this is how you repay me? By calling me a liar? I’m protecting you, Ruth! That’s what sisters do.”

  “You’re protecting me how, exactly? By confronting Eli? That’s really dangerous, sis. And why won’t you tell us about it? Why?”

  I try to move in front of her, but she’s too fast. She’s leaving. By the time I’m standing, she’s already walked out and slammed the door.

  For a minute there’s silence. Then Chase turns to me, his face more determined than I’ve ever seen it.

  “I believe you,” he says. “Tell me everything you know about her. And don’t leave anything out.”

  ALEX

  The streets of Moses River are mostly deserted because of the rain. It’s coming down hard, making the sidewalks smell sour. I move quickly, my body fueled with an anger that’s white-hot, my head burned clear. How dare she? How dare she threaten me with Sully? She doesn’t even know him. And now she’s drawn Chase into the fight! I thought I could tru
st him—thought I’d handled that—but clearly he’s weak. Ruth has always been devious, and she never did play by the rules, but now she’s messing everything up.

  As I cross the bridge, I pull out my phone and read the texts Sully sent me, the ones I couldn’t look at just now in the loft. I need to see you, he wrote. And then, I mean professionally. And also not. I don’t reply; I just keep walking. It’s a good thing I didn’t let Chase see my phone.

  I’ve only been to Sully’s once—last Monday, after Eli showed up—but I remember the way. Here, trees canopy the road and the houses are solid and older. As I unlatch the front gate, Gravy watches me from the window with her handlebar ears. She barked the first time I visited, suspicious of me, I’m sure, but now she is oddly silent. I knock at the door, and it’s not long before I hear Sully’s footsteps. I can picture his body as it moves.

  “Oh,” he says, holding back the dog, who lets out a low growl. “Gravy, calm down. It’s just Alex.”

  “Don’t you remember me?” I try my most winning smile. She sniffs my hand, then wanders off, and I turn to Sully.

  “I’m sorry to surprise you. I hope it’s all right.”

  He smiles cautiously. “You’re always a good surprise. Are you okay? Come in. You’re soaked through.” He urges me in, helps me take off my coat. I’m so close to him that I can smell his skin. I want to lean into it, nestle my head into his neck and cry. But I won’t. I will be careful and make things right. I will fix everything.

  My stomach feels fluttery. I move past him into the front room, which smells of firewood and coffee. He waits, watching me as I kick off my sneakers. He’s freshly showered, his shirt clinging to his shoulders where he hasn’t dried properly. When I turn, there’s an awkward second or two when he doesn’t know whether to hug me or not. He’s not quite sure of the parameters.

  “What’s happening?” he asks. “Has Eli come back? You look rattled.”

  “He hasn’t, no. I’m okay. But could we have a glass of wine or something?” I ask.

  “Sure. Of course. Follow me.” He heads for his kitchen, the walls of which are a patchwork of reconstituted wood and brick, the whole space lit with pot lights. He pours two glasses of red wine.

  “Alex, I put out feelers on Eli like you asked, and we’re tracking him. He’s a lost boy, a product of the foster-care system. In and out since he was seven. You know the drill. He did time in a Penn state penitentiary for narcotics trafficking and there’s some gang history. He’s lost and he’s dangerous. There are warrants out for his arrest.”

  “Wow,” I say, because men love a damsel in distress. He’s nothing, I want to say. Nothing but a beaten dog. “That’s terrifying. Do you think you’ll catch him soon?”

  “I’m certain we will. Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe.” He passes me my glass of wine, and his fingertips touch mine with a jolt.

  “Is that what your text was about?” I sit down at his kitchen table. “Why you needed to see me?”

  He blushes, and when he chooses a seat, it’s the one right next to me, not the one across the table. That’s a good sign. “It might not have been the only reason.” Our thighs are aligned. It’s like we’re on a date at the movies.

  “Thanks for looking out for me, Sully. You’re the one I trust most.”

  He frowns for an instant. “I still think you have to report the Eli attack,” he says. “You can’t have men like him coming to your home. It’s a police matter.”

  “I can’t. I told you—Ruth. She’s vulnerable.”

  “But reporting it will help you and Ruth. It’ll keep everyone protected.”

  I reach across and take his hand, interlace my fingers with his. Warmth floods me, as if he’s a liquid I’m sinking into. Last time I was here, it began like this, too. Did Eli hurt you? Are you okay? Do you feel unsafe? Sully’s brow was so worried, his hands reaching out for me, and I’d nodded, even though I didn’t feel unsafe. Because I wasn’t. But that’s the thing about Sully: he’s always looking for someone to rescue. He’s a good guy. His every move is predictable. And I knew he wanted to take things further, but I couldn’t let that happen. Not then. Not when it wasn’t necessary. Now it is.

  Holding his hand, I feel a sense of rightness. It’s like a transfer of energy, a download of pieces that fit. Everything is coming together. I trace my thumb over ridges of his knuckles, lean a little into him.

  “How come you’re here?” he asks. “If it isn’t about Eli, what did you need to tell me?” He’s holding his breath, hopeful.

  I need to be careful; this answer is trip-wire-loaded.

  “It is about Eli, though,” I say. “I mean, I haven’t seen him again, but I’ve found out why he’s in town. Why he came to the loft, why he attacked me.”

  “He wasn’t looking for Ruth and the baby?”

  I give him my widest little-girl eyes. “He’s looking for drugs and money that Ruth took.”

  Sully sits up straighter. “What drugs?”

  “His and Ruth’s drugs.”

  “What?”

  “Ruth owned up to it all this evening. I saw her trying to hide a tin in our bathroom. I caught her red-handed, and I made her open it up. It was filled with drugs and money.”

  I can literally see heat reddening Sully’s face. He’s a policeman, bottom line, and I know it. He won’t be able to let this one go.

  “Okay, this is getting out of hand. You have to see that. This is dangerous, Alex.” He stares at me for longer than I’d like. Can he see the moves I’m making?

  “If I report it officially,” I say, “Ruth will get in trouble. She can’t go to prison while she’s pregnant. You know what that will be like. We have to think of the baby.”

  “You will report it to us officially”—his voice is firm—“and you’ll tell Morris.”

  “Morris?” I gape. For all my incredulity, I’ve had this conversation a hundred times in my head. This conversation and all the next ones.

  “Ruth’s out of control!” Sully sits forward on his chair. “She shouldn’t be anywhere near guys like Eli Beck. She shouldn’t be bringing drugs or drug money into your home. There’s more than you and Ruth to consider. There’s a baby. You know this—and I get that it’s complicated when it’s your own family—but telling Morris now is the right thing to do.”

  “Is it?” I ask doubtfully, as if I’ve never once considered the notion.

  “Listen to me: Morris trusts you to do your job. They’ll be all over you when this blows up—you know how this works. You have a duty to Ruth’s child, Alex.”

  “That’s true.”

  “We protect the ones we can. You know I’m right about this.”

  It’s like the clicking of cogs: all the pieces falling into place, the whole wheel turning so smoothly. I knew it would go like this. I’ve known it since I first opened the lid of that coffee tin, but I make sure to nod slowly, as if I’m ingesting this new idea fully. “Maybe I’ll outline my concerns to Morris in an email?”

  Sully smiles sadly. “I think that’s a good plan.”

  “Please don’t report her to the police just yet. I’m asking you as a friend. As my closest friend.”

  He looks down at both of our hands, curves his fingers softly so that they match the shape of mine. “I think that under-describes me. Don’t you?”

  I sigh, lean in. “I hate all this.”

  “Me too.” He wants to kiss me—but he’s battling it. “I’ll hold off saying anything for now. But not for long. We have to deal with this.”

  I nod and find tears coming to my eyes. “It’s just hard. She’s my sister.”

  “I know,” he says. “But Morris will help. He’ll do things the right way.”

  He shifts, and I feel the muscles in his hand twitch.

  “I saw him in court today, by the way. Morris. It was the custody hearing for your Floyds.”

  “I know. The verdict’s tomorrow. I’m planning to be there for that.”

  He takes a deep brea
th, perhaps happy to be on safer work-related ground. “You know, they weren’t at all how you described them.”

  I look up at him sharply. “The Floyds? What do you mean?”

  “To be honest, the Floyds were … kind of gentle. I mean, struggling, obviously, but they didn’t strike me as monsters. They looked like people well on the road to recovery.”

  “Maybe they present better publicly.” I pull my hand away, take a sip of my wine.

  “Right,” he says, watching me. “Maybe that’s it.”

  But there’s a sliver of doubt in him, a shadow. I let a beat go by. In his kitchen, a clock ticks. Outside, the rain is letting up. “It’s good to see you, Sully. To be here. I’ve missed you.”

  “Look, Alex, I have to ask you: What’s happening with Chase?” He’s shy, primed. He’s been thinking about me all week.

  “We’re breaking up,” I say, studying my hands, folded now in my lap. My voice shakes. “If we don’t have trust, we don’t have anything. You’re the only one I’ve got, Sully.”

  It’s a silent, smooth movement when he pulls me toward him, his arms around me. His face is inches from mine. We stare at each other for only a second before he kisses me, and this time we don’t stop. We’re urgent and heavy, pulling at each other’s clothes. When I pictured this moment, I knew it would be exactly this. That it would build between us and it would flood, the cascade perfectly timed. I planned for it all along, kept him close for a reason. There’s no way Ruth can get to him, not when he’s entirely with me.

  We tumble from our seats to the floor, the cold tiling beneath my bare shoulders a shock. We’re moving so fast—it’s out of control—except all of it is calculated precision. I exhale into him, making all the right sounds, and our bodies relax and spark at exactly the same time.

  “I love you,” he says, and I believe him. “I’ve loved you from the first time I saw you in that meeting, so worked up.”

  I smile into his lips. “You have?”

  “Of course. And I asked you out for that first coffee together. I knew even then that you and I are cut from the same cloth.”

  “We are.” I pull him closer. “Do you love me no matter what?”