| |
CHARLIE CONTINUED WAVING until he, Nathan, and Mrs. Biggs reached the lifts. Karl ducked out of the doorframe as Paul shut the door with a sigh.
Karl couldn’t make out what the heavy breath was for, but brushed the thought away. He was probably relieved to have a bit of space. The guy had worked hard hours the last couple of weeks. “It’s nice Charlie and Nathan are such close buddies.”
Paul smiled on his way to the sofa, but it looked, well, morose.
“Don’t you think?” Karl added, lounging next to him.
“Uh-huh.” Paul picked up the remote and switched on the TV.
Karl’s frown deepened as the guy surfed channels, never staying on one long enough to get hooked. Stealing the remote, he turned the television off, jumped up, and tugged at Paul to do the same.
“What’s this about?”
“You, my friend, are in a funk of sorts. I don’t get it. But, seeing we have a few hours to ourselves, I think we ought to get you out of it.”
Karl exited the room, Paul’s voice trailing behind him. “I’m not in a funk.” And then, more quietly. “Shit. I really am.”
Karl had to smile at the sweetness of the self-admission. He grabbed his wallet, cell, and—the most important thing—his keys. He met Paul moping down the hall and chucked them to him. “Heads up.”
Paul’s hands fumbled against his chest, awkwardly catching them. “What’s this for?” His voice held a certain amount of hope; Karl knew Paul already had an idea.
“Wanna have the awesomest ride of your life, ever?”
A sudden and brilliant grin spliced Paul’s face. “Oh, hell yeah.”
In the driver’s seat of the Lamborghini, Paul radiated. Karl on the other hand, felt a little sick. Maybe more than a little. He wasn’t used to not being in control. He felt his foot press onto the floor as if it was the clutch and could change gears for them. Two stalls in the first fifteen minutes made it clear Paul wasn’t practiced with a stick. Each time, Karl had been on the brink of demanding the guy pull over to swap places. But the blush and small ‘sorry’ Paul gave each time worked like Charlie’s ‘she-sha’ magic. He just couldn’t do it.
The gears grated as Paul tried to go from second to third. “Clutch!” Karl cried.
“Shit. Sorry. Again.” Paul sighed, his previously excited face now with a disappointed shade to it.
“Nah, it’s good.” Said just as much for himself as for Paul.
Paul snorted. “Hardly. As soon as we can pull over, I’ll give it up.”
Give it up. The words in combination with the drive hurled Karl into a flashback. A sad smile curled his lips at the memory. “No. Don’t give it up, Paul. You’ll keep going until I say otherwise. You are going to get the hang of her. Besides, you look damn hot driving. I haven’t had enough of watching you, yet.”
Paul glanced at him, then back to the road, an undeniable smirk making his dimples appear. Yeah, that was even hotter.
After a half hour, they came past a small park with a fountain in the center. Paul smoothed into a parking spot. He patted the wheel. “Once I got the hang of it, it was fun. Sorry for the bumpy beginning.” He clicked open his belt and twisted.
Karl did the same, resting his shoulders against the passenger window. “Glad you liked it.”
“What was the funk about?”—
“Why didn’t you want me to give up?” they both asked at the same time, then simultaneously sighed. Meeting each other’s eye, they briefly laughed.
Karl ran a hand over the leather seat. “You start.”
“You’re not going to like it.”
“I didn’t expect to.”
“Right. But, okay, don’t get me wrong, I love that Charlie has a close friend. In fact, it makes me incredibly happy to see them go off together. And I know they’re going to have a good time.” He took a breath.
“But?” Karl added the obvious conjunction.
“But it reminded me of being a kid. It reminded me how not all have it so lucky. Okay, it reminded me of you bullying me, Karl. When you said you thought it was nice Nathan and Charlie were close buddies, I don’t know, I felt suddenly angry at you again. For denying me something that every kid should have.”
A lump hardened in Karl’s throat. They sat in silence; the longer it drew out, the more pronounced their breathing seemed. He should say something—he needed to try to resolve Paul’s hurt, and his stupid past actions.
His breathing hitched as he attempted to speak. “Paul.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I’ll tell you that as often as you need to hear it, because I truly am. Only, I wish there was something I could say or do to really prove to you how sorry I am. But I don’t know that’s possible, short of the impossible: turning back time to never doing those things to you.”
Karl studied the faded patch on Paul’s jeans. “You giving me this job . . . in some ways, it makes it worse. You’re so kind and forgiving. And, you know, you are the only one in this world who could have spat on me, and I wouldn’t have gotten mad, because I deserve it. But instead you give me a job when I most needed one. You treat me like an equal in your home—no, more than that, almost like a family member. I owe you both the biggest of apologies and the largest thanks.” Karl closed his eyes. Why did Paul do this for him? How could the guy like him at all, when, at this moment, he barely liked himself?
Paul sighed, and the sound swirled around him, warm and sad at the same time. “Thank you, Karl.” His fingers began to drum on the wheel. “But, um, you make me sound like I’m perfect. I can’t claim all that. There’s more you don’t know; I don’t know I can admit it aloud yet.”
Karl lifted his gaze to Paul’s ‘lost in thoughts’ one. “But,” Paul continued, “I don’t believe people do things without a reason. I guess . . . I guess amongst the pain and hurt, I’ve wondered why you did it. Especially now that you’re so changed. I—I want to understand what the hell you were thinking and how you ended up, well, this way.”
Karl’s throat hurt as he swallowed for the umpteenth time. Refocusing on Paul’s hands, he tried to explain. “I was a stupid boy. I thought being strong meant being able to overpower others. I thought the way to get friends was to agree with them. I don’t know when or who first said something about you being dumb. They might not have meant it meanly, only as an opinion, but I snatched up on it, agreeing loudly, liking that others joined in. I felt older and bigger.”
Karl felt Paul’s assessing gaze on him and started to sweat. “Look, I don’t know if you want to hear this. It—I don’t know, I don’t want it sounding like an excuse for what I did or anything. There is no excuse for that.”
Paul folded his lips into his mouth and nodded. “I agree, but I want to hear it anyway.”
“Okay.” Karl took a moment to gather his thoughts. “Maybe, and this is only on reflection, but maybe I felt more like my parents. I wanted them to see and be proud of me, so I wanted to be like them. But I was the biggest dick for bullying you. Not just you, either. I was a bully for a long time.” He fiddled with the seatbelt, pulling it out of its socket, then letting it suck back in. “It’s why I loved Pop so much. He saw I was going off the tracks. Saw how unhappy I really was with myself. There was . . . there was a while where I thought I didn’t deserve to live. That no one would care if I did go—rather only be happy. Pop recognized the signs, my silent calls for help—stuff I didn’t even know I was doing. He helped me. Opened my eyes. Made me see all the pain I’d caused others, and he did it without hurting or manipulating me; he did it with forgiveness.” Karl felt an impulse to say just like you.
A tear trained down his cheek, and he turned so Paul wouldn’t see it and quickly wiped it away. “Pop said life was like learning to drive. You were bound to fuck up, make mistakes, maybe even cause an accident, but if you practice and follow the rules, people didn’t have to get hurt—and one day you’d just get better at it. Just don’t . . . give it up, he said.” Karl’s chest shuddered as he tried to control his breathing.
“Only, while I think that’s true, there’s the other side to all that. Those fuck-ups, those accidents—people who didn’t deserve it got hurt. And no matter what, I can’t take that damage away.” Forcing through his shame, Karl met Paul’s gaze. “I can’t make your childhood any better, but, again, I am sorry. I admire you for giving me a chance despite how much pain I put you through.” He smiled through his sadness. “In that sense you’re a damn good driver. I only wish I were half-so.”
Paul’s eyes watered. A sudden need for air swept over Karl. He opened the door and bounded out, stopping a few steps away and breathing deeply. Resting his palms on his thighs, he let a nauseous swell pass over him. God, he was so sorry. So very sorry.
The car doors shut one by one, and then Paul’s legs came into view on his right. He straightened himself, unable to look at the guy. Sure if he did, he’d break into sobs. He didn’t have the right to be sad. Paul was so strong. To have gone through what he did and turn out to be the guy he was . . .
“I want you to know,” Karl found himself saying, “that when I’m with Charlie, I sometimes think of us as kids. It feels like a second chance. I know I can’t take your hurt away, but sometimes I imagine I can. By doing the best I can by him.”
Paul moved beside him, his face coming into Karl’s view. Karl uncurled himself, plunking himself on the grass, gravel cutting into his hands. Paul stayed in his crouch and said one single line, “Your Pop was a good man.”
Karl closed his eyes and willed the hot tears back down. He nodded. His Pop was the best. He thought so, too.
Paul ran his fingers over the grass and picked up a small handful of gravel. He divided the lot and handed half to Karl. Then Paul sank next to him on the grass and threw, aiming for what looked like the top tier of the fountain. It passed just shy of the third tier to the left. A nudge hit Karl’s ribs. He took a stone and threw.
Neither of them managed to hit the top. But for Karl, that didn’t seem the point.
On their way home, Karl driving them this time, Paul’s tongue kept clucking—as if he wanted to say something but changed his mind. After the third time, Karl looked at him. Deep thought creased Paul’s expression. “Um, are you all right?”
“I don’t want this issue to keep coming up anymore.”
Karl held his breath, letting it out in small increments.
“What happened in the past is over. I feel bad for bringing up my feelings from before, Karl. I don’t want to judge you on that anymore. You’ve done nothing, absolutely nothing that has made me—even remotely—feel like I did back then. It’s like there are two completely different Karl Andrews’. The one I hated, and that one’s gone. And the one . . . the one that’s worth getting to know.”
Karl had to slow down, his vision of the road compromised by a watery film over his eyes. His nose blocked up too. He fumbled for a packet of tissues he kept in the console. Horns beeped behind him as he slowed further. Paul handed him a Kleenex. He blew his nose, loud and obnoxious, needing to get himself back in control. As he stuffed the dirty tissue into his pocket, Paul laughed.
“What?” Karl managed.
“It’s a good thing you’re super hot, because that was so not attractive.”