In This Life
Page 26
But suddenly the door opened there was Kathleen staring at me in surprise.
No, I didn’t just want to talk to someone. I wanted to talk to her.
“Nash.” She looked at my empty hands. “Is everything okay? Where’s Colin?”
“He’s fine,” I said. “He’s with Nancy.”
Kathleen moved back a step. “Come in.” She was wearing a soft grey shirt that she probably slept in and came halfway to her knees. I wondered if she was wearing anything underneath. From the way her soft curves were outlined beneath the fabric I kind of doubted it.
“Sorry to show up so late,” I said, taking a look around at the small but comfortable surroundings. “I like your place.”
She shut the door. “You’ve been here before.”
“I know.”
Kat looked around and made a face. “I’ll be moving soon. The landlord just informed me that he intends to sell the property at the end of the summer.”
I stuffed my hands in my pockets. “That’s too bad.”
“Nash,” she said, “what’s wrong?”
There were so many things wrong. And I shouldn’t be dumping them all over the person who might be the best friend I had right now.
I stood in the middle of the room and stared at a small square painting of an empty winding mountain road. It was Jane’s style and sure enough there was her distinctive signature in the corner.
“I hope I didn’t wake up Emma,” I said.
“You didn’t,” Kathleen confirmed and sat on the couch with her legs tucked under her. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it down to the store reopening today.” She rubbed her eyes. “Everything was crazy. I had a big project due, three client appointments and I had to pick Emma up early from preschool because she had a stomach ache.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. I ran her over to the pediatrician just to make sure.” Kathleen studied me, probably because I was still standing awkwardly in the middle of her living room at ten p.m. “Sit down.”
I planted myself on the edge of the couch. It was tempting to lay my head down on Kathleen’s lap. She waited for me to say something. Somewhere in the apartment a clocked ticked the seconds away.
“I hit someone,” I said.
Her eyes widened. “Who?”
“Travis Hanson.”
She grimaced, as if the sound of the name hurt her ears. “Why?”
“It doesn’t matter. He deserved it but that’s not the point. I handled it badly. I’ve been handling things badly for a long time.” I paused and thought about what I wanted to say. “I never told anyone this, but there were signs, Kat. Things I should have picked up on.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean sometimes she’d drive me to school and I’d notice bruises on her arms. Or she’d be late picking me up from somewhere and her eyes would be red from crying. She’d always tell me it was nothing. She made up stories about watching a sad movie or getting banged up on some exercise equipment at the gym. I should have done something. But I did nothing.”
“Oh.” Kathleen touched my shoulder. “You’re talking about your mother.”
I blew out a breath and allowed the memories to come flooding back. “She started seeing Paul only a few months before they got married. I remembered thinking there was something off about the guy but I didn’t put the pieces together, didn’t think anyone would listen anyway. I was a cranky teenager with a shitty attitude so of course I disliked my mother’s new husband. I was so used to being the center of all her attention. It was always just the two of us. Sure I spent summers and vacations with my dad but we had never been close.”
Kathleen didn’t say anything. She just kept her hand where it was on my shoulder, a kind gesture to remind me she was here, that she cared.
“Chris Ryan was not a man who saw much value in sitting around and talking about feelings but in the beginning, after it happened, he tried to get me to open up. He said the anger could eat me alive if I let it. He was right. I never allowed anyone to get too close. You remember what I was like, how often I used to fight in high school. I’m still fighting, Kat. I never stopped.”
I looked up to find her staring at me with worried eyes that swept down to my hands. I knew what she was thinking of. The night I came to town my knuckles were still bruised and raw from dispensing my own brand of vigilante justice. But I wasn’t ready to tell her about that. I’d already told her more than I should have.
I stood up, feeling the sudden need to get the hell out of here, away from Kathleen’s scrutiny before she saw more than I wanted her to see. She tugged on my arm, urging me back down to the couch. I relented, reclaiming my seat and then did the thing I wanted to do the most, the thing I didn’t do with anyone. I rested my head against her soft body and allowed her to comfort me.
“I thought you’d fucking grown up a little.”
I couldn’t stop hearing Kevin’s words. He was right and I needed to do better. I had a little boy to raise and protect. It was time to acknowledge that in some ways I hadn’t grown up. In some ways I was still that fourteen-year-old kid wracked with guilt and grief because in my mind I’d failed. I’d failed to defend the person who meant the world to me. I couldn’t live with that kind of failure again.
Before I found Nash at the front door my paranoia had gotten the better of me. I felt jumpy, ill at ease, plagued by the consistent thought that I was being watched, though the curtains were closed and the only sound in the apartment was the ticking of an old mantle clock.
Emma had been crying when I picked her up early from preschool. Like any mother, my child’s tears were like a knife straight into my heart. But today there was something about the way she was crumpling up her little face that left me feeling more anxious than usual. She looked too much like her father when she cried.
I took her to the doctor although there was no medical mystery. One of the children had brought in donuts as a birthday treat and Emma had eaten more than her fair share. She wound up vomiting all over the crayon table but she was already feeling better by the time we got home. I gave her some ginger ale and plain toast and we watched episodes of her favorite cartoons.
Hours later, after she was asleep, the uneasy feeling wouldn’t leave me and I knew it had nothing to do with Emma’s stomach incident. This afternoon I’d nearly deleted an email to my business account from an address I didn’t recognize. I thought it was spam but then opened it on a whim.
Kat,
It’s been a long time. And I need to talk to you.
Harrison
Dread can surge through the bloodstream in an instant. My stomach dropped and my heart began pounding. I stared at the email and then deleted it. The writer had no claim on me and he knew it. We were finished even before I did something that would sound unforgiveable if I told the story. There were only two other people in the world that knew and one of them was dead. The other hated me. The feeling was mutual.
But it wasn’t just the shadow of worry gnawing at me as I roamed the quiet rooms of my apartment.
There was also a ghost. Years ago he’d befriended and consoled and assured me that I deserved better than a guy who cheated and treated me like dirt. He did all that even though he was crumbling under the weight of his own demons.
As she grew, Emma looked more and more like her father. Sometimes when I saw my daughter’s face it was like he was begging to be acknowledged. I had never acknowledged him or even spoken his name since the day of his funeral. I’d been telling the same lie ever since returning to Hawk Valley. My mother didn’t know. I hadn’t even told Heather.
No, I didn’t just want to talk to someone. I wanted to talk to her.
“Nash.” She looked at my empty hands. “Is everything okay? Where’s Colin?”
“He’s fine,” I said. “He’s with Nancy.”
Kathleen moved back a step. “Come in.” She was wearing a soft grey shirt that she probably slept in and came halfway to her knees. I wondered if she was wearing anything underneath. From the way her soft curves were outlined beneath the fabric I kind of doubted it.
“Sorry to show up so late,” I said, taking a look around at the small but comfortable surroundings. “I like your place.”
She shut the door. “You’ve been here before.”
“I know.”
Kat looked around and made a face. “I’ll be moving soon. The landlord just informed me that he intends to sell the property at the end of the summer.”
I stuffed my hands in my pockets. “That’s too bad.”
“Nash,” she said, “what’s wrong?”
There were so many things wrong. And I shouldn’t be dumping them all over the person who might be the best friend I had right now.
I stood in the middle of the room and stared at a small square painting of an empty winding mountain road. It was Jane’s style and sure enough there was her distinctive signature in the corner.
“I hope I didn’t wake up Emma,” I said.
“You didn’t,” Kathleen confirmed and sat on the couch with her legs tucked under her. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it down to the store reopening today.” She rubbed her eyes. “Everything was crazy. I had a big project due, three client appointments and I had to pick Emma up early from preschool because she had a stomach ache.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. I ran her over to the pediatrician just to make sure.” Kathleen studied me, probably because I was still standing awkwardly in the middle of her living room at ten p.m. “Sit down.”
I planted myself on the edge of the couch. It was tempting to lay my head down on Kathleen’s lap. She waited for me to say something. Somewhere in the apartment a clocked ticked the seconds away.
“I hit someone,” I said.
Her eyes widened. “Who?”
“Travis Hanson.”
She grimaced, as if the sound of the name hurt her ears. “Why?”
“It doesn’t matter. He deserved it but that’s not the point. I handled it badly. I’ve been handling things badly for a long time.” I paused and thought about what I wanted to say. “I never told anyone this, but there were signs, Kat. Things I should have picked up on.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean sometimes she’d drive me to school and I’d notice bruises on her arms. Or she’d be late picking me up from somewhere and her eyes would be red from crying. She’d always tell me it was nothing. She made up stories about watching a sad movie or getting banged up on some exercise equipment at the gym. I should have done something. But I did nothing.”
“Oh.” Kathleen touched my shoulder. “You’re talking about your mother.”
I blew out a breath and allowed the memories to come flooding back. “She started seeing Paul only a few months before they got married. I remembered thinking there was something off about the guy but I didn’t put the pieces together, didn’t think anyone would listen anyway. I was a cranky teenager with a shitty attitude so of course I disliked my mother’s new husband. I was so used to being the center of all her attention. It was always just the two of us. Sure I spent summers and vacations with my dad but we had never been close.”
Kathleen didn’t say anything. She just kept her hand where it was on my shoulder, a kind gesture to remind me she was here, that she cared.
“Chris Ryan was not a man who saw much value in sitting around and talking about feelings but in the beginning, after it happened, he tried to get me to open up. He said the anger could eat me alive if I let it. He was right. I never allowed anyone to get too close. You remember what I was like, how often I used to fight in high school. I’m still fighting, Kat. I never stopped.”
I looked up to find her staring at me with worried eyes that swept down to my hands. I knew what she was thinking of. The night I came to town my knuckles were still bruised and raw from dispensing my own brand of vigilante justice. But I wasn’t ready to tell her about that. I’d already told her more than I should have.
I stood up, feeling the sudden need to get the hell out of here, away from Kathleen’s scrutiny before she saw more than I wanted her to see. She tugged on my arm, urging me back down to the couch. I relented, reclaiming my seat and then did the thing I wanted to do the most, the thing I didn’t do with anyone. I rested my head against her soft body and allowed her to comfort me.
“I thought you’d fucking grown up a little.”
I couldn’t stop hearing Kevin’s words. He was right and I needed to do better. I had a little boy to raise and protect. It was time to acknowledge that in some ways I hadn’t grown up. In some ways I was still that fourteen-year-old kid wracked with guilt and grief because in my mind I’d failed. I’d failed to defend the person who meant the world to me. I couldn’t live with that kind of failure again.
Before I found Nash at the front door my paranoia had gotten the better of me. I felt jumpy, ill at ease, plagued by the consistent thought that I was being watched, though the curtains were closed and the only sound in the apartment was the ticking of an old mantle clock.
Emma had been crying when I picked her up early from preschool. Like any mother, my child’s tears were like a knife straight into my heart. But today there was something about the way she was crumpling up her little face that left me feeling more anxious than usual. She looked too much like her father when she cried.
I took her to the doctor although there was no medical mystery. One of the children had brought in donuts as a birthday treat and Emma had eaten more than her fair share. She wound up vomiting all over the crayon table but she was already feeling better by the time we got home. I gave her some ginger ale and plain toast and we watched episodes of her favorite cartoons.
Hours later, after she was asleep, the uneasy feeling wouldn’t leave me and I knew it had nothing to do with Emma’s stomach incident. This afternoon I’d nearly deleted an email to my business account from an address I didn’t recognize. I thought it was spam but then opened it on a whim.
Kat,
It’s been a long time. And I need to talk to you.
Harrison
Dread can surge through the bloodstream in an instant. My stomach dropped and my heart began pounding. I stared at the email and then deleted it. The writer had no claim on me and he knew it. We were finished even before I did something that would sound unforgiveable if I told the story. There were only two other people in the world that knew and one of them was dead. The other hated me. The feeling was mutual.
But it wasn’t just the shadow of worry gnawing at me as I roamed the quiet rooms of my apartment.
There was also a ghost. Years ago he’d befriended and consoled and assured me that I deserved better than a guy who cheated and treated me like dirt. He did all that even though he was crumbling under the weight of his own demons.
As she grew, Emma looked more and more like her father. Sometimes when I saw my daughter’s face it was like he was begging to be acknowledged. I had never acknowledged him or even spoken his name since the day of his funeral. I’d been telling the same lie ever since returning to Hawk Valley. My mother didn’t know. I hadn’t even told Heather.
