One Night Flame

by Beverly Evans

  “You were sick all day at work? A place that serves food?” he asks, his eyebrows raised.

  “No. I mean, yes, but no.” I stare at him.

  He looks like the guy version of me, and sometimes I can really see the resemblance. Same eyes. Same full eyebrows, though I actually shape mine. Same tics.

  “What does that mean?” he frowns. “You want a beer or something? Is it stress?”

  “No, no beer.” Though I wish I could drink something to take the edge off. I can hardly take anything now.

  “Uh, Tums? Fuck, I don’t know, Deenz.” He waves a hand around. “Tea?”

  He looks genuinely worried for me, and it touches my heart.

  I never rebelled in high school, but Andy did. I’ve covered for him a million times in the past, whether it was for sneaking girls into the house or coming home drunk as hell on a Tuesday night. He can cover for me, can’t he? I need to get this off my chest. I wonder if this is why people feel compelled to confess crimes. Not that getting pregnant is a crime by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s a weight on me.

  But I’m not going to tell him that Noah’s the father. That would be like throwing myself into a pit of scorpions.

  “Do you swear not to tell Mom?” I say, stepping out of the bathroom.

  His eyes light up. God, does everyone in my life get off on secrets? Or maybe it’s just the fact that I’ve always been ‘the good one’ that has him excited to get in on something juicy.

  “I promise.”

  “Swear on your life?” I hold out my pinky, the way we did when we were kids.

  “Fuck, maybe?” He pulls his pinky back. “You didn’t kill anyone, did you?”

  “What the hell, Andy? You think I could kill someone?” I drop my hand entirely.

  “No! I mean, I’d back you up, I guess?” He looks confused. “What is this about?”

  “I just need you to swear to me. It’s really important that Mom doesn’t know.” I take a slow, deep breath. His face finally gets serious.

  “I swear.”

  “Absolutely promise to me, Andy, I mean it.”

  “Oh my god, Deenz, what is the big deal? I promise.”

  “I’m pregnant,” I whisper. I feel relieved almost immediately. Not all the way, but I definitely feel like a textbook has been pulled out of my metaphorical backpack.

  “Holy shit.” Andy blinks. “For real?”

  I can tell this is the last thing he thought I would say. I nod. He gestures for me to follow him back to the kitchen and points to the breakfast nook. I sit down.

  “I guess beer’s out, so here’s a seltzer,” he offers, walking back over with a beer for himself and a seltzer for me. He puts it down in front of me and sits.

  “Thank you.”

  We sip in silence. For once, I’ve stunned my brother into silence. Andy, whose whole being practically shouts all the time. He’s looking at his beer, his brow furrowed, deep in thought.

  “I don’t know shit about pregnancy, but you’re sure? You aren’t just puking for no reason?” he asks.

  “I’m very sure.”

  “Shit. Who’s the father?”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  That makes his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. I’d rather die than tell him it’s Noah.

  “And you don’t want to tell Mom because…?” he burps, but at least has the restraint to cover his mouth first. Progress.

  “She’s already freaking out about the wedding. And you know how she can be sometimes. She’ll flip out, and it’ll be a whole big problem. I don’t want to stress her out any more than I have to.” I slouch in my chair.

  He makes a little noise of agreement in the back of his throat.

  “You’re still staying with Noah, right?” he asks. “Does he know?”

  “No, he doesn’t.”

  Andy nods. Thankfully he doesn’t ask why I didn’t answer the first question. Then it dawns on me — Andy has a whole house. I hate sharing a bathroom with him, but I did it until he moved out of the house to go to college and survived.

  “Can I stay with you until the wedding?” I ask. “Mom’s going to catch on if I keep barfing every morning. Our bathroom’s toilet isn’t working, and I don’t want to infringe on Noah’s space anymore.”

  “Uh, sure, I guess? I have the space.” He doesn’t speak for a few moments. I can tell he’s turning over more questions in his head, and I pray he doesn’t ask them. “What’s our story? Mom’s going to be asking hella questions.”

  “Um…” I hadn’t thought that far. Thank goodness Andy has more experience sneaking around behind Mom’s back.

  “You’re giving her space before the wedding so she can have Joseph over more often?” He suggests with a shrug. “So they can bone.”

  “Ew, gross.”

  “You know they do.”

  “Well, yeah, but I literally never want to think about it.” I shudder. “But seriously, I can stay?”

  “Yeah, of course,” he grins. “Pack your shit and let’s go.”

  I hug him when we both stand up, a two-armed hug, then go to grab some clothes. I stuff some work outfits in the bag, along with whatever else I can grab like I’m making an escape. Andy’s ready for me in the car, and he peels off. I forgot what a shitty driver he is, and his souped-up car isn’t helping in the slightest.

  “Mind slowing down? My stomach’s going to flip inside out in here if you don’t stop slamming the brakes and accelerating,” I say.

  “Please don’t puke in my girl.”

  “Um…” I look down at the floor mats.

  “Yeah, you heard me.” He gives me a goofy grin that makes me smile like only Andy can. He might be a bro, but he’s my big brother. We fought like animals as kids, but I like him more and more as we grow up.

  “No comment on your car’s alleged gender.”

  “If you have to, there are plastic bags in the center console.” He bumps it open for me, and I take a bag out. “Got you covered. And this car’s sexy as hell, so of course she’s a lady.”

  “Sexy to who?” I laugh.

  “To me. And that’s all that counts.” He slows. “Now rest, Deenz. You’re gestating my niece or nephew, and they need all the energy they can get.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Noah

  I keep checking my phone as if I don’t have it on vibrate. I stare back at my computer for a few seconds, then at the time on my computer. I can’t rest my eyes on either thing. I’m still waiting for a text back from Nadine since I haven’t heard from her in three days, and I’m waiting to finally meet with Harry about the fires I’ve been looking into. I want both things, but both of them are making me borderline sick.

  I texted Nadine four days ago, and she hasn’t responded. She hasn’t posted on social media at all either. She just up and left my house, and now I have no idea where she is. I don’t control where she goes, obviously, but what the fuck?

  I run a hand through my hair and pull gently. One day we’re good, then she’s a little weird, and then she’s gone. It’s just like five years ago. If she would just talk to me, I could hear her out. Now I’m just angry and worried, all at once. I have no idea what I’ll say to her when she talks to me again. If she does.

  I take a deep breath. She can’t avoid me forever, that’s for sure. The wedding’s in a week and a half. We’ll have to stand there behind our respective parents and not flip out at each other. No one in our family even knows that we’re a couple anyway.

  We can’t ruin our parents’ big day because of her bullshit. Yeah, just her bullshit, because I haven’t done shit to her to make her ignore me like this. It’s fucking absurd. I thought she was better and braver, especially around me, but she’s proving me wrong. I can’t deal with this hot and cold anymore, but I also can’t go without knowing what’s up with her anymore.

  I text Andy: What’s up with Nadine? I haven’t heard from her recently

  Reply bubbles pop up right away, then disa
ppear.

  “You wanted to talk with me, Noah?” Harry says, popping his head into my cube.

  “Yeah, I did.” I gather the folder I put all of my notes in and stand, following him to his office.

  It feels like I’m walking to a doctor’s appointment where I either get a clean bill of health or I get a death sentence.

  After running into Henry on Saturday, I dug deeper into his history. The town he came from also had a rash of serial arsons, which isn’t that big of a deal. But he was ‘asked to leave’ despite his good record because of evidence tampering. I know that if I get access to the security tapes, there’ll be a connection between him and these fires. It’s a stupid gut feeling, but at least I have some evidence in this folder.

  We get into Harry’s office, and he shuts the door.

  “Actually, I’ve wanted to talk to you also,” he says, which is something no one ever wants to hear from their boss.

  “Oh?” I sit down with my folder in my lap.

  “Are you okay?” he asks. “You’ve been cagey lately.”

  I nearly laugh. I’m the cagey one, all of a sudden? I’ve been so angry about Nadine being avoidant that I hardly realized I’ve been doing the same thing.

  “It’s just been stressful, I guess.” I hold up the folder. “I’ve been thinking about some of the fires in depth. And my dad’s wedding is coming up.”

  “That’s all?” His brow furrows. He’s younger than my dad, but he’s giving me concerned dad vibes right now. “You’ve been like this ever since Jack’s passing.”

  I look down at my hands, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

  “Yeah, it’s been hard,” is all I can say.

  “Let me see what’s in this folder,” he says, sensing (correctly) that I don’t want to talk to him about it. “You’ve been doing research on some fires?”

  “Yeah, some of the house fires over the last few months. It’s all right there.” I’d put it all in a cover page, followed up by copies of the evidence to back it all up.

  With Nadine gone, I’ve been able to devote my free time to it. I’ve reverted to the bachelor I was before, living on takeout and only keeping the house clean because the cleaning service came and did it.

  Harry looks it over in silence, his brow furrowing. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but he hasn’t laughed in my face yet or kicked me out.

  The information in the folder suggests that the fires are connected, and that’s basically it. I want to broach the Henry topic in person.

  “This is a lot of work, Noah,” Harry says, not putting the folder down. “And from a quick glance, convincing. But why?”

  I’m on a fucking emotional rollercoaster. Hyped by the compliment but paralyzed at the thought of explaining exactly why I’ve done all this.

  “I thought it was worth a closer look.” I cross one ankle over a knee.

  “Of course, but you’ve thought that in the past. Remember when you first started, those chain mall fires? You asked me if I thought they were connected. I did a little more research, and you were onto something.” He leans back in his seat.

  I do remember it. It was before Jack died, and before I officially became a fire investigator.

  “But you didn’t go this far.” He closes the folder on his desk. “What are you really after?”

  “Answers.” I break eye contact. “I have the ability and the skill to look into this kind of thing now, without help.”

  “But without mentioning it to me at all?” He asks. It’s the first time he’s looked displeased. “You’ve done a lot of this off the clock, clearly.”

  I suddenly feel ten years old again, when Jack chewed me out for being a little asshole to a teacher.

  “I get that losing Jack was hard. But that doesn’t mean you have to go around trying to fix problems all by yourself. These fires are all just like the ones that killed him, right?” He flips open the folder for a second again.

  “Yes.”

  “Jeez, Noah.” He runs a hand over his face. “Thank you for the work, but please, just talk to me next time. I’ll let you off this one time since this actually does look like a compelling case.”

  I sag with relief. At least I won’t get fired. But what he said — that I’m trying to go around fixing all the problems by myself — rings in my head. It clicks, to me. I want to make something right because I couldn’t make Jack’s death ‘right’ by putting the fuck who did it away. A noble cause, maybe, but motivated for selfish reasons. I don’t want to be the kind of person who’s ruled by the past. I want to move the fuck on, in a healthy way. Being with Nadine — well, when I was — has taught me that moving the fuck on can be a good thing and can bring you happiness. The past is there, but it’s not the focus anymore.

  Goddamn it, Nadine. Wherever she is, I feel fifty different ways about her, and nearly all of them are love. The rest of them are hurt and frustration and confusion.

  “Wait, what’s this about Henry?” He asks. I’d thrown a note in there about Henry being connected to the families through social media.

  “Oh, right… it’s complicated.”

  I launch into the story about Henry, trying to be charitable in the moments when I want to flat out say I hate his guts. I don’t know how well I do. But when I’m done, Harry’s staring at me, his face a painting of shock.

  “Serious accusations, Noah. Serious ones,” he says.

  “I know. And I wouldn’t bring it up if I didn’t think it mattered. It’s just too much for it to be a coincidence.” I swallow. “And it’s not just because we don’t get along.”

  “I believe you. I know you.” He nods. “Thank you for this. I’ll look into all of this and circle back to you later.”

  I’m dismissed, and I feel weird. I’ve been waiting for this for a while, and by most measures, it went well. So why does it feel incomplete?

  I sit back down at my desk, now worrying about what I said about Henry. I wouldn’t have said it if I hadn’t meant it. But what if I’m wrong? Then I have to deal with some asshole who might guess that I’m the one who caused problems for him.

  I look at my phone and see a text from Andy. After learning that Nadine read a text notification on my phone years ago, I’ve changed my settings, so the message doesn’t show on the screen.

  So, yeah, you want to get a drink after work? is Andy’s reply. It doesn’t settle me in the slightest, but I say yes. Andy wanting to talk it over in person means it’s probably serious. My anger and frustration morph into worry yet again. Fuck, what if she’s seriously ill or something? Or what if she got kidnapped or something nuts like that? It’s not likely, but that would make me feel better about her not calling or texting.

  We decide to meet at a new place that’s in between my place and his. It’s a beer garden, with lots of wood furniture and paneling. I hardly register whether I like it or not because I spot Andy looking more serious than I’ve ever seen him across the bar. He has a beer in front of him, and it looks like he’s trying to transmute it into gold or something. I order a beer and throw down cash for it before I walk over to his table.

  “You trying to make that beer levitate?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood.

  He looks up at me, hardly cracking a smile. I’m fucking terrified. Andy’s always smiling, always joking around.

  “Sit,” he says, in a voice I don’t think I’ve ever heard from him before.

  I obey him, taking a long swig of my beer.

  “Nadine’s baby,” he says, his voice flat. “Is it yours?”

  I choke on my beer immediately, coughing all over the table.

  “What the fuck? At least warm me up first before you just drop bombs on me,” I say once I get my act together. “Did you just say that she’s pregnant?”

  “So she didn’t tell you?” he asks, looking completely confused. “I thought she’d told you but didn’t tell me about you being the father. You’re the father, right?”

  I feel like the room is tilting sideways on me. Nadi
ne. Pregnant. Me as a father. The baby’s mine, for sure. She hasn’t slept with anyone else, and given her past, she wouldn’t without saying anything to me.

  Holy fuck.

  We weren’t super careful with birth control or condoms or whatever, so I don’t know why I’m so surprised. I guess I am because I’m learning it from Andy and not her. He wouldn’t lie to me about this.

  “I… I guess so,” I manage to stammer. I slam the rest of my beer.

  “Jesus, Noah. You’ve been fucking my sister?” Andy looks genuinely hurt, and it kills me. “She’s wrecked. I thought she moved out of your place because she didn’t want to outstay her welcome, but she moved out because you knocked her up? And because you’re fucking Jade again?”

  “Wait, we need to back the fuck up for a second. And I need another drink.” I hold my hands up and go back to the bar.

  I get us a pitcher of whatever the bartender thought I’d like. It tastes like garbage, but if there’s a situation that calls for a drink, it’s this one. I can’t process anything that’s happening unless I’m 50% more drunk than I am now.

  “Before we start from the beginning, I just want to say that there’s no way I’m fucking Jade again. When did Nadine come to stay with you? She left my place with some bullshit excuse about staying with your mom for a few days, and that was not even a week ago. Now she’s with you?” I ask once I get my bearings.

  “She’s been at my place for two days. She’s been barfing all over the place and didn’t want to freak Mom out before the wedding.” He takes the pitcher and pours himself another drink.

  “She didn’t tell me,” I insist. I give as meaningful a glare to Andy as I can to try to prove to him that I mean it. “I genuinely thought that she needed to stay with Babs for a few days.”

  Andy’s expression finally softens a little.

  “Goddamn.” He sits back in the booth. “She started to stay with Mom because she’s knocked up and didn’t want you to know, then?”

  “I guess. But what’s this shit about Jade?” I ask. “I didn’t know she knew who Jade was.”

  “Last night, I caught her sobbing and listening to sad music on the floor of my guest room, so I forced her to fess up. She says she saw you two kiss outside the grocery store a couple of days ago from inside the bakery,” Andy explains. “She said ‘some blonde’ and I knew it had to be Jade. I was skeptical since we both know Jade’s a fucking disaster, but she described her to a T.”