by Kelly Myers
“I didn’t know you still kept in touch with that boy,” she says at last.
Her sentence is loaded with so much hidden meaning, I don’t even know where to begin. Mostly, I’m shocked that she is referring to him as “that boy,” as if we’re in a local production of West Side Story.
“I don’t really keep in touch,” I say. “We just happened to run into each other, and we just had a casual dinner.”
My grandmother makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a snort. “You used to be smitten over him.”
“A long time ago.” I’m way too proud to tell her that I’m still a little bit smitten. In fact, I’m regretting bringing him up.
Although Deborah still lives in Torrins. She’s not exactly in the center of anything, but she keeps track of the gossip through her friends.
“Well, he’s living in Torrins,” I say, trying to keep my voice casual. “I’m surprised you don’t run into him all the time.”
“Honey, I wouldn’t greet him if I did.” Her voice is cold as ice.
“Why? What’s he done?” I’m terrified to hear the answers, but I have to know if Zach is doing anything shady. “What have you heard?”
“I don’t know if he’s done anything,” she says. “I just remember he was a part of all that awfulness. He was a bad influence on you.”
“People change.” My own voice has stiffened. I think “bad influence” is going a bit too far. It’s not like Zach made me deal any drugs or even cut class.
“Well, I guess I’m just slow to forgive when it comes to you, sweetheart.”
My heart thuds in time with the clacking of the train against the tracks. She knows something more. Or she has something else to say about Zach. I can tell.
“I am surprised you’re friendly with him nowadays,” she says. “I’m sure he’s perfectly nice, but I know he still occasionally runs with an unsavory crowd.”
My stomach freezes. This whole time I’ve been telling myself over and over that there’s no way Zach is still involved in anything illegal. I’ve been in denial. I’ve been desperate for a convenient way for me to hook up with a guy I know is bad news.
“What do you mean?” I ask. I’m only two more stops away from work, but I’m not letting my grandmother off the phone until I get my answers.
She heaves a big sigh. “I wasn’t going to bring this up, but he still visits Claire.”
My eyes nearly pop out of my head. I expected that Zach might be working with Finn or one of the other dealers. But what on earth is he doing hanging out with my mom?
Bile creeps up my throat as I jump to the most dramatic conclusion: he’s having an affair with her. My mom is not that old, and who knows, maybe he likes the cougars. I don’t imagine she’s aged well, but I wouldn’t know for certain. I haven’t seen her in eight years.
I was staying with my grandmother for the summer after my sophomore year of college, but I had an internship so I commuted to the city every day.
My mom showed up drunk at Deborah’s house, begging us to talk to her. My grandmother let her in and told her to take a shower. I was done with my mother by that point. I stormed to my room and wouldn’t answer my mother’s plaintive scratching on the door.
The next morning, I confronted her. Claire was curled up on the couch, her face pallid from her hangover. Her hair hung in dark stringy clumps. But her eyes were the same electric green as always. The same eyes I have. Drugs and alcohol and hard living couldn’t take away those eyes.
I told her that it was best for me if we didn’t talk for a while. I stood tall and watched her flinch at my words. She nodded along, and she didn’t fight back. My mother wasn’t much of a fighter. She let life (and bad men) push her around.
I stormed off to my internship, and when I returned that evening she was gone.
“How do you know this?” I try to keep my voice steady, but I worry my grandmother can sense my tension.
“Claire and I have been talking, every now and then.” My grandmother keeps in touch. I guess it’s harder for a mother to walk away. Even so, they don’t talk often. “She says she’s gonna stay sober.”
We both know what that means. My mother has been declaring that she’ll stay sober this time since I was five. She never does. Oh, she would be a perfect angel for a month or so, but then there would be some little mishap. A guy would dump or she would have a bad day at work. She would either take a nose dive into a bottle of the cheapest liquor she could find, or she would make a colossally bad life decision, like picking up drug dealing as a second job.
“Ok, but when did Zach come up?” As my shock starts to fade, annoyance takes over. He’s been hiding this for some reason, and I’m positive it’s not a good one.
“She just mentioned he had been swinging by to chat with her,” my grandma says. “That’s why I’m surprised you’re seeing him.”
“Oh, I’m not seeing him.” I push the words out through clenched teeth. “Trust me.”
“You alright, honey?”
I take a breath and force myself to calm down. It’s not going to help anyone to fly off the handle to my grandmother. “Yeah, but I gotta go, my train is pulling in to work.”
My grandma wishes me a good day, and we hang up.
I stride through the main hallway of the Merchandise Mart with my eyes narrowed.
I’m mad at Zach for never mentioning the fact that he is still friends with my mother, but I’m even more mad at myself. It’s not like I was blind. I knew there were issues with Zach. I knew there was a strong possibility that he was still breaking the law. I just shoved those concerns to the side, all so I could get laid.
It wasn’t worth it.
I’m bombarded by the memories of him touching me, kissing me, smiling down at me.
Ok, maybe it was sort of worth it. But it can’t happen again.
For one lovely Sunday afternoon, I actually thought that maybe Zach was on the straight and narrow. I saw one pretty suburban house, and I believed that he was clean as a whistle.
For all I know, he might not have even built that house. He might have just pointed at it. He’s a liar after all. He lied to me by never mentioning that he talks to my mother.
I’m surprised by how much that stings. I thought we were friends back when we were young. Sure, things were complicated, and we were attracted to each other, but before all the stolen kisses, we were friends first. I thought we had just restarted that old friendship.
But we didn’t. He’s not my real friend if he’s hanging out with Claire. He knew I don’t speak to my mother. We discussed it at that dinner on Friday. And he just sat there, blinking and smiling as if he wasn’t a total sneak.
I grunt a greeting to my manager and throw myself into my chair. I pull off my coat and open up my email so I can pretend to be totally engrossed in my screen. My mind is in too much chaos for me to carry on any workplace small talk.
Because it’s not just that he failed to mention his relationship (casual or otherwise) with my mother. It’s that he even still associates with her. If he’s talking to her, he must be talking to other dealers. Some of them might have given it up, but some of them are probably still active.
I shudder as I think of Finn. Zach could still be grabbing drinks with Finn every weekend. Maybe he even stepped into his father’s shoes as his right-hand man.
It seems so callous and horrible, especially since Zach’s dad died. I don’t know the particulars, but I’m sure David O’Malley’s death wasn’t unrelated to his risky lifestyle.
It would be wretched if Zach was following in his father’s footsteps. He never liked his dad anyway. That being said, I can’t give Zach the benefit of the doubt anymore. He has lost that right.
I need to assume the worst from here on out.
I have a team meeting in ten minutes. I take a deep breath to steady myself.
I’ll focus on my work this morning. I’m not going to let this minor betrayal derail me. Is it really even a betrayal if I a
lways kind of suspected he was shady?
I will be professional and calm for the next few hours. I’ll call him during my lunch.
Then I’m going to give Zach a piece of my mind.
Chapter Thirteen
I walk down to the lobby of the Merchandise Mart to make the call. It’s crowded, but not too loud that I can’t have a phone conversation.
I’ve managed to calm down a bit over the course of the morning. I’ve got a one-track mind, so I can’t think about two things at once. It means I’m a terrible multi-tasker, but the upside is that I have a remarkable ability to focus on work or tasks even when in emotional distress.
And I’m not even in emotional distress, to be quite honest. I’m annoyed with Zach. I feel stupid. I’m mildly paranoid about what nefarious business he and my mom are up to. But I’m not quite at an Emotional Distress.
So I push aside my issues with Zach, and I focus on my work. I make calls and pitch programs and all together have a very productive morning.
When my lunch hour starts, I switch gears. It’s time to cut Zach neatly out of my life.
I would just never answer his texts or calls and ghost him. It would be a fitting way to end it. However, we made plans for tonight, and I don’t want him showing up at my place.
So ghosting is out. I need to tell him it’s over, and I might as well throw some harsh words in while I’m doing it.
I feel a pang of regret as I scroll through my phone to look for his number. I really thought that maybe I could have this one nice thing. Maybe I could just have fun with Zach for a bit without angst and drama from the past and my freaking mother interfering. Shame on me though. I should have seen this whole thing coming. Once a Torrins drug dealer, always a Torrins drug dealer.
I sit down on a bench against the wall. A constant stream of people rush by, heading to get lunch or go shopping. No one is going to stop to eavesdrop on me.
I click his name and hold the phone to my ear.
He picks up right away. It’s a relief. I don’t want to leave a voicemail. I want to hear his voice when I tell him that I’ve found out his dirty little secret.
“Hey, what’s up?” He’s outside somewhere, I can hear wind and cars passing by.
“Nothing much,” I say. “What are you up to?”
“I’m at a site,” Zach says.
I twist my mouth into a lethal smile. “Really? Are you sure you’re not on your way to visit my mother?”
Dead silence. He’s surprised that I know. Good.
“Did she talk to you?” Zach asks. He’s not panicking, but his voice is low and serious.
“No, Zach, I never speak to my mom, which I swear I remember telling you last week.” My voice drips with bitter sarcasm. “Funny how you just never mentioned that you and her are besties.”
“We’re not –” He stops, and I can hear him muttering to himself. “We keep in touch. She’s trying to pull her life together, Bea.”
“Don’t you dare tell me about her.” My sentence starts out angry, but somewhere in the middle, my voice cracks, and it sounds like I’m about to cry. I swallow the lump in my throat and blink furiously.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” He sounds like he means it, and I hate that. “I’m really sorry.”
I bite my lip. I could end the conversation here, but I have to get answers. “Why did you even want to hang out with me? Are you and her planning something? Because I swear, if you were trying to plant drugs on me or enlist my help, I’m gonna –”
“No, Jesus, calm down.” His voice is loud and clear, and his adamant denial does soothe my worst fears, even though he could be lying. “I don’t do any of that stuff anymore, and neither does she.”
“I don’t want to know what she does or doesn’t do, ok?” I lean back against the cold wall and close my eyes. “I just want to know why you were stalking me.”
“I wanted to catch up with you, that’s it,” Zach says. “I saw you in Torrins, and I was curious, ok? I could tell you didn’t want to talk about your mom, so I didn’t mention her.”
It sounds so logical coming out of his mouth. In fact, he makes it seem like all his intentions were nothing but innocent. I’m the one over-reacting.
All the best liars sound logical.
“I don’t really trust you right now,” I admit. “I don’t know if I ever did.”
“Look, Bea, not everyone is like you.” He’s frustrated now, and he’s moved somewhere quiet. There’s no more background noise. “Not everyone can just cut ties and act like everyone they used to know just doesn’t exist.”
“Don’t make this about me.”
“You’re right, it’s about me.” Zach hesitates, and I can almost feel him deciding what to say. “When my dad died, I was sad, but I also felt like I was finally free. I could finally turn my life around. But I was also terrified. For the first time I was on my own, and if I messed things up, it was on me. I couldn’t blame my dad anymore.”
I nod even though he can’t see it. I can’t help it; I understand how daunting freedom can be.
“I wasn’t the only one from Finn’s crew who wanted a better life,” Zach says. “I keep in touch with your mom and a few others who wanted out. That’s it. It’s nothing more than that. Like a lame ex-dealer anonymous group.”
I let out a sharp laugh at that. I can’t help it. I’m impressed that he can tell a joke, even a small one, when he’s talking about such a heavy topic.
“You still should have mentioned it,” I mutter.
“Would it have changed things?”
“Yes.” I don’t exactly regret sleeping with him, but I won’t lie. If I had known he spoke to my mother, I might not have done it. “I never would have been so willing to reconnect if I knew you were having weekly coffee dates with my mom and Finn.”
“Not Finn.” Zach’s voice is as cold as ice, and I don’t think he’s faking his hatred. “First off, I wouldn’t talk to Finn for a million bucks, and second, he’s in jail.”
I raise my brows. Finn’s fate doesn’t concern me, but it is satisfying to know he’s locked up.
“He used to say he was too smart to get caught,” I murmur. He used to tell that to my mom when she would panic about a deal. I always knew Finn was smarter than most drug dealers, but he wasn’t infallible.
“Well, he shouldn’t have been so arrogant,” Zach says. “I sold him out the week after my dad died.”
This does surprise me. “What do you mean?”
“I worked with the cops,” Zach says. “I gave them everything on him, told them where he would be. They arrested him and had an airtight case.”
“Woah.” Even if Zach was determined to get his life together, it takes guts to snitch.
“It was a long time ago.” Zach acts nonchalant, as if it’s no big deal that he took down the most terrifying man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“So, no more Finn?”
“No more Finn,” Zach says.
It’s a small comfort, but it’s at least one good piece of news. It doesn’t really change anything though. Even if Zach is living in peaceful harmony with the police (and I still have my doubts about that), he still deceived me.
“Look, I feel like I should tell you something else,” Zach says. “Your mom does want to reconnect with you. She wants to make amends, and she’s asked me to help, if I can.”
My heart turns to iron. I knew there was more to this whole thing. It wasn’t a coincidence that Zach has been so determined to chat with me. Every time he wanted to dig into my feelings or listen to my angst, it was just so I would trust him. So he could try and get me to speak to Claire.
“You’re a jerk,” I say. I sound like a middle-schooler but it’s all I can think of. I want to scream and curse, but I can’t, not in the middle of the Merchandise Mart.
“Come on, Bea, don’t be so sensitive, she means well.”
“Oh, so if your dad were alive, you would be totally thrilled if I were chatting with him about yo
u,” I hiss.
“It’s not the same thing.” I can practically hear Zach rolling his eyes.
“Yes, it is,” I say. “You can tell yourself whatever story you want about trying to be all good and law-abiding, but you’re not on the straight and narrow. Not if you keep dabbling with my mom and people like her. She will never be on the straight and narrow.”
For a second, I think Zach might explode with anger. But that was never his way. Instead he lets out a low chuckle. “I’m not dealing, and neither is your mom. You’ve gotten a little judgmental, haven’t you?”
“Maybe I was always judgmental,” I snap.
“Yeah,” Zach says. “Maybe.”
There’s a pause, but I don’t say anything, so Zach does: “Look, I’ve got to get back to work, but we can talk some more tonight.”
I lean down and press my fingers against my forehead. This conversation is exhausting, more so than I thought it would be. Zach is acting like it’s a minor misunderstanding that he can explain away.
“Zach, you’re not coming over tonight,” I say. “Our plans are off.”
“Why? I thought we were having a good time.” A teasing lilt enters his voice. “You definitely enjoyed yourself the other night.”
“Let me be perfectly clear.” I stand up and speak with all the authority I can muster. “I don’t want to see you again. I don’t want to see or talk to my mother. I don’t trust that she’s actually not still dabbling in the drug world, and frankly, I don’t trust you either.”
If he is totally clean, and if he did really help the authorities arrest Finn, then I’m being a total bitch. But I’m not stupid. People can act like they’re perfect saints, they can make all sorts of vows, but that doesn’t mean they’re good. Promises are easy to break. Claire Dobbs showed me that, again and again, throughout my childhood. Even Zach broke promises to me, even when he didn’t mean to.
“Bea, I get that you have trust issues,” Zach says.
I nearly hang up. Trust issues are what you have when a boyfriend cheated on you. I have something much bigger than that. I have the issues you get after a lifetime of your own mother letting you down in every conceivable way.