I had a lot to do. It was 2:30 in the afternoon and I’d accomplished exactly nothing. Rendered useless by a backlog of guilt, indecision, and painkillers, I sat at my kitchen table drinking my fifth cup of coffee and stared at the blank sheet of paper in front of me.
I tapped my pencil in time with the ticking clock. I sipped my coffee. I needed to make another list. Maybe it would organize my thoughts, spur me to action. My hand drifted to the paper and the pencil wrote: Call Maggie. Guilt slithered down my throat into my gut. How could I have hit her with my car? What was I thinking, pulling a U-turn like that? I owed her so much. She had visited me after Kevin’s funeral, when I needed someone to talk to; offered encouragement and a list of counselors’ names. And how did I repay her? I slammed into her car and sent her to the hospital with a gouged leg. Not cut, gouged. Thirty-two stitches. That was two days ago. I picked up the phone and dialed.
Maggie’s voice boomed out of the receiver, “How’s the neck, pet?”
I reached back and touched my spine with the cool coffee spoon. “Better. What about your leg?”
She let out a short chuckle. “I’ll live.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you.”
“You’re in abominable pain. I know, your sister told me.”
“Heather told you? When?”
“She was here this morning. She’s been checking on me a couple of times a day. What a gem, that girl.”
“Yeah,” I said in a slow, dull voice. “She’s matchless.” I gave my head a feeble shake, hoping the details of my recent conversation with Heather would fall loose. All I could recall was Heather’s voice, fast and high pitched.
“About your car,” I said to Maggie. “We never exchanged insurance information.”
“Let’s take another day or two just to be injured. Paperwork can wait. You won’t be charged. I told the police they can’t charge you with anything. They said they wouldn’t. Nice chaps.”
“Charged?” I hadn’t thought of that. A laser of pain shot me between the eyes. How many things are there in the world that I hadn’t thought of? Frozen bank accounts, life insurance, mortgage papers, police charges. Watches.
I gulped my coffee and briefly wondered about mixing caffeine with codeine. My right leg twitched.
Maggie’s voice pulled me back to the present. “Just a ticket, that’s all. And as for the car, well, I was thinking of getting a new one anyway. The smashup just helped me make up my mind about it. As soon as I’m up to it, I’m going to the dealership and pick up that PT Cruiser. Have you seen it? It’s purple. Gorgeous, just gorgeous.”
I couldn’t believe how happy she sounded. “I’ll bring you some food later on,” I said, thinking of my well-stocked freezer. “Compliments, again, of Heather.”
“No need, dear. Several ladies from the church have been comin’ round bringing me meals. I’m a well-fed cripple, I assure you.”
Maggie was apparently inundated with visitors as she recuperated. I cast a glance around my blank kitchen. Heather hadn’t been back since the day of the accident. I had run her off. Bullied her with my suspicions and questions.
I hung up and went to work on my to-do list. I put a line through Call Maggie. Under it I wrote Call Donna. I needed to figure out my finances. I ran a soft finger over the numbers on the phone. I dialed a different number instead.
The phone rings and I jump up from my seat on the floor to answer it. I hop over two sets of legs and swerve around a couple lost in conversation by the stairs. Our small house is bursting with friends. I reach the phone on the fifth ring. It’s Blair. I push the receiver tight against my ear and plug the other ear with a finger. “Where are you? Everyone is here already.”
“Listen, I don’t think I’ll come.” Blair’s voice is muffled. I barely hear him above the racket of music and talking.
“How come? Are you sick?”
He sighs, “Just not up to a party tonight.”
I wave dismissively, even though he can’t see me. “Oh, come on, just get over here. You’ll have fun. The place is hopping with cute chicks.”
“That’s the last thing I’m interested in, Kate.” It’s not like him to be testy. “I can’t take it anymore.”
A roar of male voices drowns out all other sounds. A group of guys pushing each other’s shoulders in good-natured challenge. Something’s up, I think, smiling. “I think the guys are planning something—maybe a game of football out front,” I tell Blair.
“Kate, you and I need to talk,” he says. I look at the friends milling around our house. Then I spot her. A pretty blonde standing by herself in a corner, looking around as if searching for someone. Ah-ha. I can’t recall her name, there are so many to keep straight, but I recognize her as one of Blair’s girlfriends. She looks cute and pouty and I think to myself that Blair must be avoiding running into her.
I’m about to say something when a hand reaches out and pulls me into the kitchen. Kevin, smiling and flushed in the overheated house, says, “Who’s that?”
“Blair. He doesn’t want to come.”
Kevin takes the phone from my hand. “Be here in five minutes, dude. We’re going to scrimmage in the front yard and I need your passing arm.” Kevin hangs the phone up. “He’ll come.” He’s still holding onto my arm.
I look at the phone. “He sounded upset.”
He lifts one brow. “He’s fine. And besides, I’m the only man you need to worry about.” He smiles in a lusty way and we laugh. “Having fun?” he says.
“A wonderful time,” I say, trying to free my arm from his grip and rejoin the party, but he holds firm. Something in his eye makes me stop short, catch my breath.
He takes a half step toward me. “You look amazing tonight, Mrs. Davis.” He speaks from the back of his throat, making his words sound low and growling. The party can wait. He leans down, our foreheads touch. He says, “You are so beautiful, you know that?” Then he kisses me. He takes his time as if our house wasn’t full of people. He lingers over my mouth until I no longer hear the din of people talking, music blaring. When he lets me go he says, “I’m having a good time too.” He saunters off and joins a group of guys talking hockey. I watch him for a moment, everyone so at ease with each other, and I am overcome by a feeling of belonging. Loved by our friends, yet having a secret place in the midst of them where he and I are alone, even in a crowd.
I picked up the phone and dialed.
A deep voice. “Hello?”
“You said if I ever needed you—”
“I’ll be right there.”
Blair rapped on the kitchen door. I opened it and said, “Hi. Let’s walk.”
We headed uptown, toward the elementary school. I walked fast, like something creeping and relentless was following us. Blair easily kept pace, his long legs taking one stride to every two of mine. It looked like he was growing his hair out. He was wearing a faded T-shirt the color of pea soup that read, “Don’t should on me.” He looked young and moppish. A perk of operating a skateboard shop, I supposed.
We entered the deserted school yard, and I headed toward the playground equipment. The school had recently installed an immense tire swing that looked as though it could hold six or seven children at one time, maybe more. It could swing back and forth and spin around at the same time, like an amusement park ride.
I walked over to the tire, swung one leg up and over, and sat down, straddling it like a horse. Blair did the same, across from me, and then leaned back onto one of the three chains suspending the swing. He closed his eyes and raised his arms up, folding his hands behind his head. His body looked strong, like flesh stretched over granite. I swallowed hard and looked away. We swayed on the swing for a long moment.
Blair opened one eye and peered over at me. “I’m glad you pulled me away from work to enjoy the sunshine with you. But, on the phone, you gave me the impression that you needed me for … something.”
A shard of guilt stabbed at me. What did I need from Blair? Other than to ease my loneliness? I hadn’t seen another human being since Heather had left me sleeping on the sofa. I didn’t know what I needed. Maybe just some company. Human company. The kind that had a body to go with the voice. Unlike Kevin. What strange comfort it was to hear Kevin’s voice. When he spoke, he was all that mattered, all that existed. He filled my mind, my life. But his voice was a cold shock each time he spoke. I never knew, could never predict, when he might speak. And when he fell silent, I was left wrung out, alone, pulsing with fresh loss.
“I’m not sure what I need, Blair. I’m sorry …”
“Hey, don’t cry.” Blair’s voice was soft and deep.
Blair pulled his leg over the swing and stood in the center of the tire. He reached down and touched my cheek, pushing the tears away. More fell to take their place. “I shouldn’t have called you. There’s no emergency—nothing. I guess I’m feeling … lonely.” I reached for his hand. He squeezed mine.
I stood and, without thinking, pulled him close. I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face there. I just needed to be close. To somebody. He smelled like soap. I felt his hands on the small of my back, then his arms wrapping around me.
I looked up into his gray eyes. “I’ve developed a tendency to soak your shirt with tears whenever I see you.”
His laugh was a soft rumble deep in his chest. His finger touched my damp cheek. “I don’t know how to help you. It kills me to see you like this.” He gathered me to his chest and spoke into my hair. “I want to reach into the center of you and pull out all the pain.” He leaned back a little and cupped my face with his hands. “How do I do that? How do I fix you?”
My lower lip quivered as I gave a weak smile. “I don’t know.”
Blair gazed into my eyes. He leaned in and kissed my lips so softly I wasn’t sure it was happening. He made a sound, a tiny groan, and pressed his mouth down harder.
I kissed him back. Eyes closed, wrapped in the sensations of intimacy, I reveled in his touch. We stood in the middle of the tire, in the middle of the school yard, our mouths sliding gently together. Kevin. I felt his hands running up and down my back. His touch brought my pent-up longing to the surface. Oh, how I’d missed this. How I’d missed him. My heart knocked in irregular thumps. Blood rushed through my body, filling my ears with an urgent roar, like rushing water. The water became a shout. The shout became a voice. Kevin.
I gasped and pushed Blair hard with both hands. He stepped back, his arms flailing, as he flipped over the swing, landing on his back with a dull thud.
“What the—?” he said.
“Did you hear?” My voice was high and thin.
“Hear what?” Blair pushed himself up and stood looking at me, his face pinched with confusion, and probably lower-back pain.
“Kevin. Did you hear him?”
Blair shook his head, quick jerks, “What are you talking about?”
I looked around the playground, uncertain of what I was looking for. Maybe Kevin? No, that’s crazy.
My chest tightened with fear. I lifted my hands to my mouth in a speak-no-evil gesture. I stared at Blair, shaking my head back and forth like a mantra.
Blair’s eyes flashed with fear. “Are you all right?”
“I’m going crazy. Help me.” My voice climbed higher and louder with each word.
Blair tried to take my hands in his. I jerked away from his touch. “Kevin—he was yelling. Telling me to stop kissing you.”
Blair blew out a long breath. He seemed relieved, like the mysteries of the universe had opened to him and he saw they were no big deal after all. “Kate, I’m so sorry.” I opened my mouth but he held up his hand. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. I shouldn’t have done that to you.”
“I heard—”
“Kate, I understand. There was a voice in my head telling me to stop too. I ignored it, and I shouldn’t have.”
I shook my head at him. “You don’t understand—”
He nodded at me. “It’s my fault. I know what you’ve been going through, how hard it’s been for you. I feel like a cretin for taking advantage of you. Please, tell me you forgive me.”
I stared at the dirt on my shoes, trying to find the words to tell Blair about the other times I’d heard Kevin speak. He’ll think I’m crazy.
Blair must have misunderstood my silence because, after a moment, he said, “Kate, please say you don’t hate me.”
“I don’t hate you,” I said, surprised he thought I might.
He gave me a feeble smile and said, “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”
We walked back to my house in silence. I clung to the edge of the sidewalk, careful not to touch him.