by Rayman Black
He paused again. “I know seeing what you did changed you. I know it made you who you are in a lot of ways. And I’m proud of who you’ve become. I want to help you do this thing, because it’s important and because I hope it will help you close that part of your life and move on for good. You deserve peace, too.”
I didn’t know what to say. “You’ve never talked to me like this before,” I finally managed. “Are you on drugs?”
Jeff snorted. “Shut up, man. I mean all of it.”
I sighed. “Well, if we’re doing this honesty thing, I should tell you that I really appreciate your support and your help. That’s an extremely cool thing you did for me, and I won’t forget it. But I also have to say that I’ve been pissed at you for a really long time for being such a goddamn goody-goody. Do you know what it’s like to live with the fucking golden child?”
He winced. “Yeah, I’m sorry about all of that. I don’t know how all that started, but by the time we were in high school, I didn’t know how to stop it even though I wanted to. I know Dad was pretty rough on you a lot of those years.” Quiet fell between us again, then he offered, “For what it’s worth, I didn’t want to be held up as an example of all that was good and right. I actually envied you most of the time. Dad always expected you to screw up anyway, so you had a lot more freedom than I did, and you got to be yourself. And you always had Mom on your side.”
“Mom was always on your side, too,” I reminded him.
I could hear his smile. “Yeah. I don’t know how she managed it, but somehow she was always on everyone’s side, and no one’s. I think she was on her own side more than anybody’s.”
I smiled, too. “She’s never been too shy to speak her mind. I guess I never thought about your side of things,” I admitted. “All I saw was that Dad didn’t hassle you like he did me, that he clearly preferred you. I didn’t see that you might be under a lot of pressure to perform.”
“In all fairness, it’s hard to empathize with a guy who’s constantly rubbing his superiority in your face,” Jeff said dryly. “I’m sorry for that.”
I felt a weight lift off me, one I had carried so long I had almost forgotten it was there. “Forgiven and forgotten,” I said, and meant it. It was remarkably easy to just let it go. Curious, I asked, “What were you doing when I called?”
“Actually, I’ve been watching YouTube videos on whittling,” he said, sounding sheepish. “I’m teaching myself. I’m working on a beaver right now, but it looks more like a caterpillar.”
I laughed. “Bring it with you next time Mom makes dinner. I want to see it.”
We said goodbye and I tossed my phone on the bed. Imagine, I thought. A lifetime of anger and resentment, gone. Just like that. Somehow, mending ties with my brother served to also soothe some of the raw edges of what happened with Katie tonight. I found I could think about it now without damage.
I thought back to last week, getting ready to go to Las Vegas with my friends. It was supposed to be one last hurrah with our buddy Kevin before he tied the knot with his lovely bride and settled down into wedded bliss. Seeing Katie at the bar, recognizing her for the vibrant redhead I couldn’t stop thinking about for months after Thomas and Laurie’s engagement party, was a moment I would never forget. I didn’t believe much in fate, or give much credence to the idea that everything happens for a reason, but finding her in a random bar thousands of miles from home sure seemed like Somebody out there was doing me a favor.
Maybe I was just a fool. Yeah, it was chance that we met there, but weren’t cities like Las Vegas built on chance? I remembered our time together these last few days. Hadn’t she felt the same sense of connection? Hadn’t she surrendered in my arms? Couldn’t I see inside her, to the woman she really was? I knew we had shared something special. Maybe something irreplaceable.
But what good did that do either of us if we weren’t together?
If I were being fair, I could absolutely see where her family was coming from. Add in a sore spot with her sister, and the reactions tonight were not only understandable, but pretty much expected. I couldn’t blame Katie for being confused. Everything had been moving pretty fast. But shouldn’t what we were building protect us? Shouldn’t we be able to hold on to each other?
All I could do was hope that it was. I knew one thing for certain. I wasn’t willing to give up on Katie. If she needed time, I would wait for her. I would do my job, I would see my family, I would think of a way to help a woman and her child in some way. And I would wait for Katie.
21
Katie
Morning came and the light inched its way across my tiny kitchen until it found me sitting at the table crammed into the corner. I held a cup of coffee and drank from it, though I barely tasted it anymore. I had been sitting here since three, when I decided to quit pretending to sleep. My mind buzzed with anxiety and caffeine. In a string of crazy, unbelievable days, yesterday evening might have just topped the list.
My mind replayed the conversation with Samantha. Though we hadn’t spoken in three years, it was as if no time had passed. “Of course I’ve got time, Katie-cat. I’m surprised to hear from you,” she said, not quite able to mask the astonishment in her voice.
I smiled at the ancient nickname. “It’s been a long time. Too long.” I paused, unsure how to continue. “Listen, I’m sorry -”
“Stop,” she cut in, a hint of impatience in her voice. “Don’t, okay? I think I know, anyway, but I don’t really want to talk about all that right now. I want to talk about you. How are you doing?”
I sighed and closed my eyes. “I’m not really sure,” I admitted, then shook my head, even though she couldn’t see me. Jesus, this wasn’t what I wanted to talk to her about after three years of silence. “I mean I’m fine. Busy with school and work, but good. I graduate this year.”
“Wow, congratulations,” she said. “That’s great. Do you know what you might want to do next?”
“Not yet,” I confessed. “I haven’t said as much, so everyone is kind of assuming I’m going to graduate school in the fall. What else can you do with a bachelor’s in psychology, for goodness’ sake? I think Mom knows I’m hesitant. She keeps making all these comments about application.”
“It’s a big decision. I don’t blame you for wanting to take your time and be sure before you commit to anything. You’ve got all the time in the world,” she said.
“You always have a way of making things seem so much calmer,” I said. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too,” she said quietly. “Listen, I have to go, but I want to catch up with you. Are you free on Wednesday? There’s this place I know that has excellent coffee. We could meet.”
Tears stung my eyes. “I would love to.”
It wasn’t until I hung up that I realized I wasn’t so upset anymore. It was all still there: the confusion over Chris, the anger and embarrassment at my family’s treatment of him, and the ever-present ache of missing my older sister. But not speaking to Samantha had never been my idea. My father insisted that she had chosen her husband over her family, and we wouldn’t let ourselves be used by her. What he really meant was if we tried to talk to her, we would be choosing her over him, too.
For three long years, the threat of his anger, the threat of having my family not speak to me, either, had been enough to keep me compliant. But this weekend had changed so many things. No longer was I bound by the opinions of my family. That had gone by the wayside the instant I said I do. It had receded further when I chose to stay married to Chris and see if what we had was real. It seemed ironic to me that it was a marriage that drove my sister and me apart, and another that may have brought us together again.
I was thankful to have obeyed whatever impulse it was that made me reach out to her tonight. I wanted to call her back and tell her about Chris, about how wonderful he was and how he made me laugh and the way he could see right through my defenses and get at the heart of me. I wanted to ask her what I should do, if I sho
uld call Chris right now or give him the space he seemed to want. And what was I supposed to say when I saw our folks again? What could you say after something like that? It was all a mess, and I didn’t know how to sort through any of it.
I tried to relax after that. I took a shower for a long time, since the only thing big about my apartment seemed to be the hot water tank. The movie I started didn’t keep my attention, and I couldn’t settle down to a book. I didn’t want to go anywhere. And when I went to bed, I couldn’t get my eyes to stay closed.
Eventually I abandoned the effort and made a pot of coffee. And here I sat, watching the new day dawn and still wrestling with all the same questions. Should I call Chris? What will Samantha and I talk about? What should I say to my parents? On and on in an endless, maddening loop.
Should I call Chris? I stopped there and pondered awhile, watching a bird perched on the building across the alley from my kitchen window. I thought back to that terrible moment when he excused himself and left. The look he gave me made it clear he wanted something from me, and at the time I hadn’t been able to give it to him. I was so shocked and embarrassed, so confused. I wished I could take it back, that I could rewind the whole evening and maybe just skip going to my parents’ house completely. But there was no going back, only forward, and I wasn’t sure if calling him would be the right thing to do, or if maybe he needed some time.
Or maybe I was just a coward who didn’t want to be told how badly I had hurt him.
Annoyed with myself, I pushed away from the table and went to get dressed. I didn’t have another class until later this week, and the idea of being social made me itchy. I had one last paper to work on for one class, and there was always studying to do, but I doubted I’d be more successful settling to school work than I had been in leisure last night. Maybe a run would help.
Ten minutes later, wearing sweatpants and a long sleeved t-shirt against the cold, I laced up my sneakers and plugged my earbuds into my ears. Setting off at a jog, I headed away from my apartment and toward the park nearby. I breathed deeply, letting the crisp spring air fill me as my muscles warmed and my stride lengthened. I loved running. It always helped me figure out my problems and put things in perspective.
Except today. I ran until my muscles trembled from the effort, and still my mind wouldn’t stop running through the same tired paths. Should I call Chris? What would Samantha and I talk about? How would my parents and I get past this?
I walked back, stopping for more coffee on my way. When I got home, I took another long shower, then opened my laptop to do a yoga video from my playlist. When even that wasn’t enough to shake my funk and change my train of thought, I finally gave in and picked up my phone.
There was at least one question I would choose an answer for.
I called Chris. It went straight to voicemail. I hung up without leaving a message.
Having decided to call, and then not be able to make contact, acted like a dam breaking in my brain. I sent him a text, just a simple Want to talk?, and went about my day. Which meant I pulled out my books to study and only called back to see if it would ring fourteen times in the first hour. Every single time, it went straight to voicemail.
I became one of those girls I always hated. It was like my hand was possessed, like I couldn’t stop myself. I would call his phone again and again, and it would always go straight to voicemail. I knew it was likely that his phone had died. Or he was at work. Or he simply turned it off because he didn’t want to deal with crazy women blowing up his phone and making up imaginary scenarios in their brains when they were alone.
But what if he had turned off his phone specifically because he didn’t want to talk to me anymore? What if it had been some kind of test when he left, and by not going with him I had failed? I wasn’t ready to not have him in my life. I wasn’t ready to say what we were trying to do was done.
The day dragged on, apparently endless. I spent an hour and a half reading the same three pages of my textbook, trying to make sense of lecture notes that read like gibberish. Maybe I needed output to distract my mind. I put away my studying and pulled out my half finished draft of my final paper. I began to read through it, and for the first two pages, I did fine. I knew the material like the back of my hand. It was just a matter of organizing it in a coherent way, which didn’t seem to be something I could do today. Words wouldn’t form into sentences, and thoughts tangled around each other as I sought to pin them down.
“Jesus Christ and all the angels!” I yelled, finally throwing my pen across the room. “I give, okay? I give. Clearly nothing is going to get done today.”
I went to pick up my pen and spent some time and care putting everything away. I glanced at the clock, and dialed Chris’ number for the eleventy billionth time. Straight to voicemail, his warm and familiar voice asking me to leave him a message. I hung up before it got to the beep.
Okay, if running and yoga failed, and I couldn’t concentrate on school, what on earth could I do with my time? Sitting here and staring at the walls would absolutely drive me over the edge, and my borderline stalker behavior shamed me. I wasn’t this girl. I wouldn’t be this girl. I looked around my tiny apartment. Maybe I could clean it.
Instead, I sank onto the couch and picked up my phone again. This time, though, I texted my friends.
Anyone got any free time? I could use some company.
I thought about Chris. Why would his phone be off all day? After a day like yesterday? I could understand if it had been for a bit because it died and he had to get it to a charger, and I knew damn well he wasn’t at work. He wasn’t scheduled to be on until tomorrow. The only reason that made sense was that he had kept it off on purpose.
Had he kept it off to avoid talking to me?
The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that that was exactly what happened. Chris didn’t want to talk to me, so he turned off his phone. Anger kindled inside me. I hadn’t thought he would be the type to hide from a woman, but did I really know him? Maybe my parents had been right, after all. Maybe neither one of us was ready for something as huge as a relationship like this. My phone vibrated in my lap and I jumped, almost dropping it on the floor. It vibrated again, and then again. I looked at the screen and smiled. If worse came to worst, I knew there were three people in the world I could count on absolutely.
Sabrina: I can be there in twenty minutes.
Lori: Me, too. I’ll bring pizza.
Judith: I’ve got ice cream, but I’ll have to meet you later. I’m on the other side of town and traffic suuuucks!
My friends were as good as their word, and it wasn’t long before everyone was sprawled around my living room, practically filling the small space. I told them about the comedy magic show and skydiving and our road trip hours. Then I took a deep breath and told them about last night. I made myself say every part, including how I froze.
“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore,” I concluded. “And I guess I can understand that. I don’t know that I would want anything to do with me, either.”
Lori shook her head. “I think you’re being too hard on yourself, Katie,” she said. “I’m sure there’s an explanation for all of this, and I doubt it’s because of you. I mean, yeah, you’re probably going to have things you have to talk about, but that’s part of relationships, too. It doesn’t automatically mean it’s over.”
“I don’t know,” I said doubtfully. “You didn’t see his face, or hear my folks say those terrible things. It was pretty bad, and now his phone is deliberately off. He’s a first responder,” I said, forestalling her protest. “You know what that means. Their batteries are never dead and they always have their phones. Chris told me about it when we were heading back to Vegas after the Grand Canyon. If his phone is off, it’s because he wants it to be.”
There was nothing anyone could say to that, because they knew I was right. Suddenly, I was tired of the whole thing. It was too much. It was too hard.
“You know what?” I said, forcing a smile even as a weight settled on my chest. “It’s probably good that all this happened so soon after we got back. There’s still time to annul this. But I’m probably going to hire a lawyer to do it. I’m not sure I would do it right.”
Sabrina reached over and squeezed my arm. “Katie, whatever happens, we’re here for you. But don’t give up yet. You don’t know the whole story. You at least have to talk to him.”
I nodded, but inside I knew that it was probably better to let him go. I gathered my memories of the past three days and stored them in a special place, where I could take them out and look at them when I wanted to remember.
Later, when my friends had left and I was trying to sleep, I reached for my phone one last time. I typed quickly, refusing to let myself pause or think too hard about what my fingers were doing. It had to be done. Fairy tales didn’t exist and happily ever afters weren’t real. There wasn’t going to be a good end to this story.
I hit Send and turned my phone off. I lay back in the dark and watched the city lights play across the wall through the window. I thought of Las Vegas and watched the lights blink out, one by one.
22
Chris
I woke up the morning after the disaster at Katie’s parents’ and I went for a run. It’d been awhile since I’d gotten out to do it, and I could feel my muscles protesting the movement. Soon my body warmed and my blood pumped faster through my veins, transporting the oxygen I was sucking in. Damn, I really had let it go too long.
Even so, it felt good to get outside, to get moving in the morning air. I let my mind empty for the first time in what felt like ages, thinking only of the way the air felt in my lungs and the nip of the early morning chill on my bare legs.