That Was Yesterday

by HJ Bellus

  “Two large pizzas for twenty-five dollars, which includes a two-liter of soda.”

  That’s no damn help. I gaze up at the menu and take a wild guess.

  “I’ll take that. One pepperoni and make the other one a Sour Pig.” I tug my wallet out of my back pocket.

  As I’m paying the tab, I’m pretty sure there was no way I went wrong. Everyone loves pepperoni, and I’m a damn sucker for sauerkraut. The combination of it on pizza is perfection. Reminds me of the days I served and the dozens of pizzas my buddy and I would wolf down.

  I relax back on an exposed beam, waiting on my order. I find myself enjoying the memories of serving, without being haunted by them. I traveled the world, made lifelong bonds, and served my country. It’s just what I needed to soothe the longing lingering in my soul. It’s something I’ll never regret, even if I did miss out on Finn’s life. It’s taken me a while to digest that everything happens for a reason. Ally’s poison, and even if I didn’t serve, she never would’ve told me about Finn. Who knows if I’d have crossed paths with Kate? None of it adds up. All I do know is I’m glad I’m standing right where I am.

  A loud ruckus gets my attention. Turning, I see a table of ghosts from the past. Ironic since seconds ago I was thankful I hadn’t run into anyone I knew. Deputy Dickhead is flanked with all his friends from high school. I recognize most of them but don’t take long glancing their way. I’m thankful as fuck the joint is jam-packed and the odds of them seeing me are slim.

  Steven Gilly, Cole’s sidekick back in the day, sits on the end. Steven was never quite as popular or near the athlete Cole was. I turn my head and smirk, thinking how damn funny life is. I’m in better shape than any of those pukes. But Steven has aged far better than Cole. Wonder what Steven is up to? He may be Deputy Dingleberry.

  I focus on the orders being slinged out. I can’t remember if I gave them my name or not.

  “You tap that ass you’ve been eyeing yet?” Cole’s voice floats over the restaurant. There’s some razzing then riotous laughter echoing around the room.

  “Sir, here’s your order.”

  I move before the employee has a chance to set the two boxes on the counter and get the hell out of there. The walk is quick and brisk to Kate’s house. I follow the street signs and don’t even need to glance up to the number on her house to know it’s hers. The quaint white fence and adorable house is so her. I swing open the gate and step in.

  After jogging up the old cement sidewalk, I knock once then twice before entering. For a brief second, the thought of walking into a widow’s house of eighty years old bears down on me. I’m about to freak out a few seconds after I call out Kate’s name.

  “Kate.”

  Nothing.

  When the freak out is almost to hit me full force, Kate’s slender tanned legs round the corner, relaxing all of me.

  “Pizza.” She smiles gently at me, unhooking the towel from the top of her head, and points to the table, where there are plates and glasses set out.

  My mouth goes dry. I go to speak, then am forced to tear my vision from Kate, who’s walking closer to me.

  “What kind did you get?” She’s close enough I can smell the cherry and vanilla scent hugging her body.

  I clear my throat. My mind is foggy and exhausted from the last few days. “Pineapple. All pineapple.”

  “Max, I told you.” She flips the first lid of the box, and I swear she gushes.

  Kate’s hand goes over her chest, and without apology, she plucks a piece of pizza from the box. Pieces of sauerkraut dangle over the side as the tip of the slice disappears between her lips. She nudges the boxes toward me with a free hand.

  I’m ripped from the fantasy, or should I say reality, of seeing her in shorty shorts and tank top with no bra, fresh from the shower. I grab a piece of pizza, not tasting a bit of it as she turns toward the fridge. Kate pulls three beers from it then goes back for a bottle of chilled wine. She pops the tops on the drinks and pours herself a glass of wine.

  “How in the hell did you know the Sour Pig was my favorite pizza ever?” She grabs the glass of wine, taking a sip.

  I shrug. “It’s my favorite.”

  The box of pepperoni pizza goes untouched as we devour the other large pizza. Kate gives up after two and a half slices. I do my best, finishing off the rest while washing it down with Coors. The beer and pizza is a perfect ending to an exhausting few weeks. I do find myself wondering why Kate has beer in her fridge, but I keep it bottled down. I also notice the wine she’s drinking is Moscato, but a different brand than I bought the night of the great fall that brought us together. The bottle looks way more expensive. I memorize the brand for future reference.

  “I’m stuffed.” Kate tucks her legs under the dining room chair. “I should’ve had a beer, but wine sounded so good.”

  I push the last piece of crust in my mouth. “You’re a beer drinker?”

  “Sure am. I don’t discriminate, really.”

  “You’re cute.” I reach out my hand and rest it on her bare leg.

  “You’re handsome,” she replies.

  “And it’s like we are in sixth grade again,” I match her.

  We erupt in laughter. When Kate gets up to clean our mess, I help her. After it’s all put away, including the whole pepperoni pizza, Kate leads me into the living room. An oversized canary yellow couch fills most of the space. There’s a tiny television and lots of artwork. Kate places her glass of wine on an end table, and I do the same with my fresh beer on the opposite end table. Kate plops down on the couch with a few decorative pillows plunging to the ground. I follow her as she does her best to tug me down. The woman would never have to pull. The fact is I’d follow her anywhere at this point.

  I relax back into the fluffy cushions, letting the couch swallow me. Kate snuggles up to my side then reaches over for her glass of wine. Thoughts of tomorrow consume me one by one.

  “Should I wear the suit or the button-up shirt I showed you earlier today?” I run my hands through her damp hair, loving the feel of her body up against mine.

  “Truth?” She peers up at me.

  I tip back my beer and manage a nod at the same time.

  “Neither. You need to wear what you do every day. You’re not going there to impress the adults. You’re going there to impress Finn. Just be you.”

  I nod.

  And she continues. “Wear your favorite t-shirt, blue jeans, boots, oh—and comb your hair, of course.”

  I peer down at her to see Kate’s caring eyes aimed at me.

  “How did this even happen?”

  She shakes her head slowly from side to side. “My daddy always told me what was meant to be is meant to be whether you liked it or not, so you better just enjoy the ride.”

  A smile turns up the corner of my lips. I couldn’t agree more. “Thank you.”

  I brush my hand over the harshness of her cast. Kate let her students sign it. There are scribbles, initials, hearts, and various other symbols. I find myself rubbing the mathematical equation. I didn’t have to ask to know it was Finn’s. My fingertips outline each perfect line of his numbers and symbols.

  “I’m so tired,” I admit.

  There’ve been, at best, only a few hours of sleep each night since coming home. Not to mention working my ass off day and night.

  “I can imagine.” She sets down her glass of wine and loops her arm around my neck, resting her cast over my shoulder. My hand goes back to the spot Finn signed on her cast. It’s a symbol of pure innocence and perfection and comfort to me. Her other hand rakes through my hair. My first instinct was to get the shit cut off after years of being trained to keep it cut short and neat. It’s not long by any means but still drives me nuts.

  That’s until Kate rakes her fingers through it, swirling her fingertips on my scalp, relaxing me with each movement. We don’t say another word as we hold each other. I worry about tomorrow, and Kate soothes each stress away with her touch, warmth, and scent. I don’t take a
nother swig of my beer or move. The next thing I know, I’m slipping away into slumber.

  Chapter 12

  Kate

  “Miss Kate.”

  I feel a tug on the end of my sweater and look down to see a miniature Max staring back at me. I squat down so I’m eye to eye with Finn. It’s been torture not telling him everything will be okay.

  “What’s up, Finn?” I grab his hand.

  “I forgot my special project in the room.”

  It takes me a second to figure out what he’s talking about. We didn’t do any art or sculpting projects today. Then it dawns on me he’s talking about the book he’s been writing. I haven’t read a word of it because he hasn’t offered to share it with me. A few months ago, he asked if I could staple papers together so he could write. Of course I did, but then he nibbled on his lower lip. Once I got it out of him, he was bothered because some of the pages were crooked, so during recess I bound a thick stack of lined pages, covering it with laminated cardstock. Since then, he writes in it all the time.

  I’ve seen some descriptive pictures and math problems. But he writes in it more than anything. I’ve been so curious to know what he puts in it but have never wanted to disrespect him. The journal has become one of his most prized possessions.

  “Wait here, sweetie. I’ll be right back.” I squeeze his hand.

  “Miss Kate, I only have three minutes before Harriet comes.” Tears are welling up in his eyes. “We don’t have time.”

  Harriet is the sweetest foster parent I’ve met to date. It’s clear she cares for Finn in her gentle touch and extreme patience with him. She works closely with Finn’s case worker, Frank. Those two are the brightness in his life right now.

  “Finn, deep breaths, I’ll be right back. You stay right here.” I give his hand one last squeeze and make eye contact with the first-grade teacher. She gives me a nod, letting me know she heard our conversation.

  I rush back to the classroom, avoiding eye contact with Gilly, who has still been doing his best to intimidate me. His antics would’ve worked if it weren’t for Max’s encouragement to stand up for myself. Finn’s journal is right on top of his desk as if it was on his mind and he got distracted, leaving behind his best friend.

  I burst back out the doors, knowing Finn will more than likely be on the verge of a meltdown, and I’m right. The tears are spilling down his round cheeks as Harriet walks up to him.

  “Finn!” I holler over the mass of children scurrying to the buses or their parents and wave his journal in the air.

  He wipes the tears rolling down his face with the back of his hand. Harriet rubs his back. I kneel once I’m in front of him.

  “Here you.” I turn him around and tuck it in his backpack.

  “Miss Kate, it goes in the second pocket, not the first one,” Finn stutters out.

  “I know, honey.”

  Once the journal is safely in place, I turn him around and give him a hug. His life is about to change forever. The happiness inside me is overwhelming. It’s so strong I can barely handle it.

  “You’re going to have a great day, Finn,” I whisper in his ear.

  His little arms squeeze tight around my neck. “I’m meeting a man today.”

  It’s the first time he’s mentioned it all day.

  “I know, honey. It’s going to be so amazing.”

  “I’m scared. I don’t want to meet him, but I don’t want to go home.”

  I soothe circles on his back. “Trust me, Finn. Please just trust me.”

  This has to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done to date. I have to fight back the urge to grab Finn’s hand and go with him. This poor little boy needs stability, and he’s so close to getting there. Max filled me in on all the DNA testing, interviews, and all the other hoops he’s had to jump through. It’s not over by any means, but things are looking up for him. I do my best to stay in the boundaries of friendship or whatever we are. I find myself having to bite my tongue to keep my opinions and advice at bay. It’s more important to me to remain a piece of his support system than prying for all the detailed information.

  “Okay, Miss Kate,” he stutters.

  “Time to go,” Harriet announces.

  I stand up, straightening my sweater, and grab Finn’s hand. I walk with them over to Harriet’s car. Finn crawls into the huge SUV in his tattered jeans and shoes that are way too small and worn.

  A voice clears behind me, and I turn to see Gilly standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. I give him a nod and walk past him with chills racing up and down my spine.

  I make it to my classroom, unable to focus on anything. I should be stuffing folders for tomorrow’s literature centers but find myself staring off into space and watching the clock. Finn and Max should be meeting right about now. I have no doubt Max is nervous as hell and Finn skeptical about the whole situation, his little brain running a hundred miles per minute.

  A knock throttles me from my thoughts. I look up to see Gilly walking into my classroom. I push my glasses up on the bridge of my nose and remain sitting in a tiny chair behind a U-shaped table.

  “You have a minute?” he asks, sitting across from me.

  No, you chauvinistic asshole, I think to myself. Lord, how I’d love to let the words flow from my tongue. Reality is he’s my boss and I’m on the clock.

  “Sure, what’s up?” I muster out in my most carefree voice.

  “Things are tense between us, and I just wanted to apologize for that. I never should’ve asked you out to dinner. It’s made things awkward in our working relationship.” He rests on an elbow on the top of his thigh.

  I think he forgot about the fact he not only asked me out once, but several times and was relentless.

  “Okay,” I reply, having no idea what to say.

  “And about writing you up, it was nothing personal. I have to be fair and enforce rules to everyone.”

  Pain pierces the tip of my tongue from biting down on it so hard. Again, he forgot to mention all the other times he reprimanded me for “snooping around,” his words, into Finn’s situation.

  “I get it, Mr. Gilly. And I didn’t take it personal. I’ll continue to do the best job possible.” I snap a folder shut, doing my best to keep my cool.

  “Great.” He stands up, unbuttoning the top button on his dress shirt. “I’m glad we had this talk, Kate, and always know I’m here for you.”

  “Okay.” I nod and smile as politely as I can.

  Nothing like leaving that dating door open. I ignore the reference and go back to my work. I don’t look up to watch him stride out of the room. I only know he’s gone once his overwhelming expensive cologne fades away. I slump, knowing damn well he’s not about to make my life easy. Doesn’t matter because I’m doing what I love and that’s all that matters. And now with Max in my life, I’m not sure anything could get me down.

  I give up on work and head home. I pace back and forth for hours, watching the time and my phone. Nothing from Max. He told me he’d text or stop by after the visit. I’ve tried soaking in a tub with my casted arm propped up on the edge, binge watching Sons of Anarchy on Netflix, and even went for a run.

  It’s now past nine, and my mind is running crazy. I’ve run my hands over my yoga pants a million times. I finally give up and grab a hoodie before thinking things out and take off for Max’s house. There’s no need to hop in my car since we live so close. The street light lit up the road as I jogged the few blocks.

  Every light in the house is on while the porch is cloaked in darkness. The first step creaks as I step on it.

  “What are you doing here?” Max demands.

  I jump back, slamming my hands over my chest. “Jesus, you scared me.”

  “Go home, Kate,” he growls.

  I take a step closer and am able to make out the bottle of whiskey next to him. No cup or mixer in sight.

  “Max,” I whisper.

  He doesn’t respond with words. He picks up the bottle and downs a long gulp. H
e damn near misses the table as he slams the bottle back down. He’s drunk. Piss wasted.

  “What happened, Max?” I creep closer to him.

  Even in his toxic state, I know he’d never hurt me. It’s the opposite; he’s the one hurting, in more pain than I could ever imagine.

  He stands from the rocker, causing the back of it to crash into the side of the house. He sways back and forth until he steadies himself, then rakes his hands through his tousled hair.

  “What do you want to hear, Kate?” he roars. “I met my son today, a boy that has been through hell and is scared of his own shadow. He’s in shit clothes. I’ve seen the pictures of his scars and all the fucking reports. I had to act like it was a happy fucking day meeting him when I felt all the guilt in the world on my shoulders. Is that what you want to hear? How big of a fucking failure I am? Well, there you go.”

  He throws his arms out to the side. I take a few steps and grab the bottle of whiskey. There’s not much left in it at all. I pour the remnants over the railing until it’s drained.

  “Max, you’re letting the reminder of your demons win. You’re falling down that slippery slope toward repeating the cycle. You are better than this.” I set the bottle down and step to him, wrapping my arms around his middle.

  “It fucking hurts.” He drops his head down to mine.

  “I know. Trust me, I’ve watched him for months. I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but I do know this Max won’t do.” I squeeze tighter, hoping not to set him off. “He needs all of you. And that means you’re going to have to digest that guilt and shame and give him the world.”

  We stand in silence for long moments before Max moves. He turns me around and guides me inside his house. The sound of a loud engine roaring fades off into the distance. I have no idea who it is and honestly don’t give a shit. Max doesn’t stop until we are in the middle of his bedroom. He lets go of me, steps back, and reaches behind his neck. In one swift movement, he has his shirt off and makes quick work of his jeans until he’s left in only a pair of black boxers.

  Then before I know it, he advances my direction, tugging off my hoodie. The smell of whiskey floats off him. It’s saddening and intoxicating all at once. He stops at my sweatshirt and tugs me down into bed with him, covering both of us in blankets.