19

DARBY

I knew something was wrong the moment I stepped inside her apartment. Despite being an obtuse male, I picked up on the clues right away. For one thing, there were not the usual good smells coming from the kitchen. Secondly, she stiffened when I tried to embrace her. Thirdly, she wouldn’t meet my eyes. Fourth, she didn’t even notice the flowers, or if she did, was choosing not to comment.

“Hey, everything all right?” I asked.

“I’m fine.” She hugged her middle, as if protecting herself. From what? Me? What had happened?

“Did you just get home?” I gestured lamely toward the kitchen and stepped inside the apartment. Nice, Darby. Ask her why my dinner wasn’t made like a total idiot.

“Not long ago.” Jamie shut the door behind her. “After an interesting talk with Arianna.”

I froze. What had she done now?

“Telling me all about your kiss. Which don’t bother to deny. I saw you.”

“That was not a kiss,” I said, thinking as quickly as I could. “She tried to kiss me.”

“It seemed she succeeded.” She moved away from the door. Better than shutting it in my face, I suppose.

“She didn’t. Trust me. I made sure she knew it was not a welcome advance.” I moved toward her with my hands out in front of me. “Whatever she told you was probably a lie. You know that by now, don’t you?”

“The question is, do you know that? I can’t decide if she’s still duping you or not. After the other night, I thought things were…I thought there was something real between us.”

“It was last night,” I said as gently as I could. “And from my perspective, there is something special between us. Whatever you think you saw with Arianna—it’s not what happened.” For a moment, I quieted, searching for the right words to convince her of my innocence. “She came out there with an agenda. I don’t know why, but she doesn’t want me to be happy with someone else. Even though she didn’t want me. Doesn’t want me.”

She collapsed onto the couch. Her hands gripped the edge of the cushions. “Darby, I don’t know if I can do this.”

My heart stopped. It was coming. Of course it was. How was I stupid enough to think this would work out for me? Add Arianna into the mix, purposely misleading Jamie, and I stood no chance. Anger bubbled up from deep inside me. I hadn’t known how much of the hot black tar lived in me until this very moment. Arianna Bush had nearly ruined my life the first time. Now, when things were actually looking up for me, she had arrived to torture me further. “Do what exactly?” My voice sounded flinty and defensive. Already my protective layers were hardening. Soon, no one would be able to get in. I would not make the same mistake. Not again.

“I don’t want to be a fool,” Jamie said. “Or get hurt when you decide you’re still in love with her. Or maybe you’ve already decided that. I don’t know. All I know is this doesn’t make me feel safe. And I want that, Darby. I want to be able to trust you with my heart, and right now it doesn’t seem like I’ll ever be able to.”

“There’s nothing between us. She’s nothing to me, other than a source of intense anger. I’m sorry she got to you. I should have known and called you right away to explain what really happened.”

“What did happen?” She lifted her eyes for a second before returning to gaze down at her knees. Such pretty knees, poking through the ripped denim.

“She told me a bunch of crazy stuff about missing me and that you and I weren’t a good match. I can’t remember half of what she said. I just wanted to get away from her.”

“I need a little time to think,” Jamie said.

“Okay. Sure.” For God’s sake, I might cry right here in front of her. “Jamie, I would not hurt you. Not if I could help it.” I sat on the edge of the coffee table, feeling sick to my stomach.

“That’s just the thing. Even if you don’t mean to, you will. I’m not strong enough to fall in love with you and have you leave. Not when I finally have my life back on track.”

“This is a matter of trust. If you can’t trust me, then we have nothing. You’re right about that.” I stood, having aged a thousand years since I’d come in here so happy and excited to see her. “You’re wrong about me. For the record. I’m the most loyal guy in the world. How do you think I got involved with Arianna in the first place? I was too stupid to see her for what she really is, and she’s succeeded in ruining my life one more time.”

I still had the stupid flowers in my hands. I placed them on the table. “I’m sorry you won’t give this a chance. I really am.”

I walked toward the door, hoping she would call me back. She didn’t. So I walked out of there and down the hallway to my apartment. Eyes stinging, I unlocked my door and went inside, only to collapse on the floor. Leaning against the closed door, I let my head fall to my knees. Just feel it, I thought. Feel the disappointment and hurt. Don’t run from the pain. I’d taken a chance, and it had proven to be a mistake. But I couldn’t let it wreck me forever, living in a shell as Jamie had chosen. Arianna had taken away a lot from me. I would not let her take anything further.

* * *

I wasn’t hungry but knew I should eat something if I was going to have another beer. I’d already sucked down one, staring at the wall and wondering how I’d fallen so fast and hard for the girl down the hall. Talk about the girl next door.

With a bag of pretzels in one hand and a new bottle of beer in the other, I wandered over to my futon and sat. I took a swig of beer, then turned on the television. Maybe there would be a new PBS show to watch. Anything to take my mind off Jamie.

My phone had buzzed several times and my heart had leaped with hope. But it was not Jamie. One text was from Arianna, asking if we could talk.

I might have gotten you in a little trouble with your girlfriend.

You did. Big trouble.

I deleted the message. Then I blocked her. I should have done that a long time ago. Funny that this was the first time she’d texted me since we broke up. It took me having someone else that had awakened this sudden affection.

She was mentally ill. That’s all there was to it.

The next text came in from Huck.

You okay?

Yeah. Jamie dumped me. Thinks I’m still hung up on the wicked witch of the west.

Nothing came back for a few minutes, other than those three dots indicating that someone was writing back. Finally, another one popped into the feed.

I’m sorry. That wasn’t what I meant, though. You haven’t seen the news? About your dad?

What now? I thought. Had he appealed or something? Before I could text back, the phone buzzed again. This time with a live call from Huck.

“Hey,” I said.

“Listen, you might want to sit for this.”

“I’m already sitting.”

“Okay, well, the thing is—I just saw it come over the AP wire. They found your dad this morning in his cell. He took his life, man. I’m sorry.”

It was as if someone had kicked me hard in the stomach with a steel-toed boot. I started to shake. Not that, Dad. Not that.

I took in big gulps of air as I stared down at the beer bottle between my knees. The end of his life. Just like that. How had he done it? Did I want to know? Was all this happening while I was at school or later when I was trapped by Arianna in the garden? What did it matter? He was dead. He’d chosen to leave me long before this. We were no longer family. Not if love is what made one. Yet he was my father. The only living relative I had left. No longer.

Could I blame him? Facing prison after what he’d done?

A sob rose up out of my chest. No, I could not let it get to me. He was nothing to me any longer. But a voice whispered to me. He was your dad. He gave you life and a home, fed you and kept you warm.

But what kind home had he raised me in? One of fear and anxiety. Where love was transactional. Every moment an uncertainty of what would come next.

Why, then, was I crying like a baby?

* * *

Half an hour later, I’d finished crying into my beer and was now working on another one. I hadn’t been able to keep myself from pulling out my laptop to do a search. It wasn’t hard to find. The headlines said it all.

Fallen cop found dead in cell.

Disgraced cop dead from hanging.

The details described a suicide watch. They must not have watched him very carefully, since he’d done it with a sheet.

I thought about the last time I’d seen him. My high school graduation night, I’d come home from the ceremony to change for a party. He hadn’t been there. A shift had kept him from attending. I’d told myself I didn’t care. His work was more important than seeing me walk across the stage. He was uncomfortable with formal ceremonies. All the excuses I could think of didn’t keep me from knowing, deep down, the truth. He was not interested in seeing me do much of anything, even graduate.

I was surprised to see him in the kitchen. He had a whiskey bottle open on the table alongside a bag of pork rinds. Disgusting. He stood with his back against the counter and raised his glass when I came in. “To the graduate.”

“What are you doing home? I thought you worked tonight?”

“I was sent home.”

“Why?” My mouth fell open. Sent home? What did that mean?

“Some bullshit thing about excessive force, son.” He rubbed a hand over his closely cropped hair. Lately, I’d noticed the crevices on the sides of his mouth had deepened and his hair was starting to turn more and more silver. When he was like this, drunk and sour, he seemed older than his forty-five years. “They want us to act like little girls. Like pansies. And treat criminals like they should be at a resort instead of jail where they belong. The world’s all upside down, kid.” He stared blankly at the wall behind me. “Sometimes it seems like I don’t fit anywhere anymore.”

I gritted my teeth. What should I say that wouldn’t make him mad? In this kind of mood, he was feeling sorry for himself and appeared cowed and docile, but I knew that he could change in a split second. Anger was still his favorite gear.

“What? Got nothing to say? You too good for me now? You’re always siding with the rest of them, aren’t you?”

“The rest of them?” Who was that exactly? I could decide all on my own that I hated him and feared him and wished he was different and loved him too. That was the thing. No matter what he did, he was still my father.

No sooner than I’d had that thought than he threw his glass against the wall about a foot from my head. Then he lunged at me, putting his hands at my collar and shoving me against the wall hard enough to knock the wind out of me.

“You think you’re better than me, don’t you?”

“No, sir. I do not.” I could barely speak. The palm of his hand pressed into my neck. My Adam’s apple throbbed against the force. He put his whole body into it, as they’d taught us at football practices. Commit to it, they’d said. My father knew how to hunker right into it.

His eyes had the glazed, enraged look they got when he was just about to start hitting my face. I’d wanted to go to the party, but I wouldn’t be able to if my face was all banged up and bloody. I braced myself as the first punch came, knocking my head against the wall with the force of his fist to my chin. The second blow was to my nose.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a movement outside the windows. Rob. He was here to pick me up for the party in his new car. Why had I agreed? Now he would see the truth.

My father jumped away from me. I wiped under my nose. Blood was everywhere.

Rob, outside the window of the kitchen door, seemed frozen in shock. I’d never told anyone what my father did to me. Not even Rob.

Without another word, my dad picked up his whiskey bottle and left the room.

That night, after Rob helped me get cleaned up at his house and lent me a new shirt, I told him how bad it was and that it had gotten worse. He’d offered his house for the summer. His parents were hardly ever there. We could have a summer of parties before we left for college.

Now, as I sat here, remembering that night, it occurred to me that Rob’s behavior that night had been one of the reasons I overlooked so much of his poor behavior. He’d been supportive and considerate. I’d cried at the beach party and he’d been kind to me.

I didn’t move in with him that summer, but I did leave my father’s house the next day. I left him a note, saying I would not be back. I’d earned a scholarship for college. I didn’t need him for anything. And that day had felt like the first day I’d ever felt freedom. I never had to see him again. He could no longer hurt me.

But he did hurt me. Memories last longer than bruises. All these years, I’d been running from those memories, trying to build a new life for myself based on love and good work. You’ve done that, I told myself. You made your own way.

If only Jamie could find her way out of her past, her memories, and see that I was right here in front of her offering her everything I could possibly give her. My heart.

But she didn’t want me. Or she was too afraid. Either way, I was alone on the night of my father’s death. Trying to make sense of my life and what to do next, just as I’d always done.