by Lucy English
Gloria and I opted for a table indoors, both to stay out of the heat and because the outside seating overlooked traffic and angry pedestrians who had to bottleneck on the sidewalk to get around the fenced off row of tables.
“There was this totally hot guy getting his back waxed at the spa today,” she said, her kinky hair springing with enthusiasm. “I totally wanted to ask him out, but it isn’t really good to do as the manager. What do you think?”
“I think you’re right. It probably isn’t really good. But you can flirt a little and he could ask you out.”
“Didn’t work. But I’ll try again next time. I think it’s getting to be time for me to get serious about one guy.”
“Really?” I asked. “And give up the party girl life?”
“It’s getting old.” She took a sip of her wine and turned the subject. “What’s up with you? You look a little sour-pussish.”
“Gee. Am I puckered?”
“You know what I mean.”
“It was another hard day. I’m gonna give Will the ring back.”
“What? Are you insane? Here, give it to me! I’ll wear it. I’ll marry him!”
I laughed. It was a great idea. It would solve all my problems, if only Will wanted to marry Gloria!
“Seriously, Penny.”
“Seriously, Gloria. I don’t want to rehash my reasons. I don’t want to get married right now and I probably don’t want to marry Will when I do want to get married. You’ve gotta help me figure out how to say no.”
“Easy. Just say ‘yes’!”
“Can I call him and tell him and then ship the ring back with lots of insurance?”
“Uh, no.”
“Really?”
“You have to go there. You know you have to go there. Am I drinking wine with you because you needed me to tell you what you already know?”
“Maybe.”
She let out a sigh and looked around the room. I looked too. No cute guys, so I got her attention back. “It would be better if you went right after a new moon, but the new moon was two weeks ago, so I guess that won’t work.”
“I guess I’ll go this weekend,” I said. “Why does the moon matter?”
“Decisions made in the two-week window after the new moon have more positive outcomes. But you shouldn’t drag it out.” She looked at me more seriously than she had before and tilted her head a little. “I’m sorry if I was joking too much. It must have been a really hard decision.”
“It was. Thanks, Glo.”
“Do you want to talk about something else? How’s the kid we made the purple rice for?”
“He’s still not talking but his aunt got out of jail and he’s back home with her, so that’s good. I think they have a drug dealer staying on their couch, but he seems harmless enough.”
“For a drug dealer?”
“Well, yeah.” It’s funny how things are so relative to context. I knew I probably sounded crazy to people that didn’t work in the kinds of worlds I was in. “Actually I shouldn’t say that. The guy is on Conner’s list of murder suspects, but I think he’s totally harmless.”
“Conner’s the hottie that came to see you in the middle of the night?”
“Yeah.” I heard wistfulness in my own voice.
“Is he part of the Will decision?”
“No! No. Not at all. Conner is not in the picture. I mean, he kissed me a couple of times, but that’s all and it was a mistake and there’s nothing going on with us.”
“A couple of times? I bet he’s a great kisser.”
“Yeah. He’s really strong too—solid. Sometimes I just want to tear his shirt off and see that chest. But that’s just lust talking. I’m trying not to listen.”
“Is he nice?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes I think he’s a total asshole and then he shows a really caring side—not just for me, for Legend, for people in general. But he flips right back to asshole cop, so I have no idea.”
“Well, you have a lot of nice castoffs lately. If you drop any of them off at Goodwill, be sure to let me know.”
I smiled, glad I had Gloria to cheer me up. She was right. If a couple of hot, nice guys liked me, maybe I would attract a couple more. Maybe someday even the right one.
Figuring out the trip to Madison was tricky. I had to tell Will I was coming, of course, but how was I going to do that without having to answer what my answer would be? If he got his hopes up that I was coming to accept his proposal and live happily ever after, well, that would be the worst thing. It was going to be awful to let him down no matter what.
I called him late Thursday night after Gloria and I got home, and told him I was too tired to talk long, but I’d booked a flight and I’d be there Saturday.
“How long are you staying?”
“I have to come back to Boston Sunday. I’m still on probation at work, remember?”
“Oh, yeah. Okay.” His voice was soft and slower than usual. The whole thing felt like walking on monarch chrysalises. I was uncomfortable with the whole thing, including the insane price of the flight. We disconnected without getting any further into the meaning of my visit, and I dropped off to sleep.
Will picked me up at the Madison airport. His house smelled like wood polish, rosemary, and fresh bread. He had lunch ready and set it out on the wood table in the bright kitchen as soon as we got there. My stomach was roiling from hunger and nerves.
“I don’t want to make you wait,” I said once we were seated. I slid the ring from my finger. “I love you but I can’t get married right now.”
He set his fork down. His eyebrows moved together and a vertical crease formed on his brow. Then he put his head in his hands for a moment before returning his gaze to me. “Life here with me isn’t good enough for you?” I could hear his breath, loud and rough, like he was making an effort to keep breathing.
“No.” I twisted my hair. “I think I’m not good enough for it.”
He was still. He stared at my face as if the answers were there. I tried to think how to say it. Tears pricked behind my eyes. “I’ve done nothing to deserve what I have. I don’t worry that the people I love will starve or be killed as ‘collateral damage.’ My body is mine, I have health, I get to use my skills.” I paused, not sure I was getting to what I needed to say. “Settling down in comfort to raise happy privileged children who, like me, will likely never want for anything, well, what right do I have?”
Will’s expression hadn’t changed much. I tried again.
“I have to earn it, Will. I haven’t earned it. I probably never will.” I was crying, hugging myself, hoping my stomach would settle.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I thought a lot about Legend on the flight home. I needed to distract myself. We still didn’t know who killed James. Well, “we” meaning everyone but Legend and the murderer and probably Desiree. The fact that Legend knew was really a problem. I thought he might not talk until the killer was found, but worse that that, he might really be in danger. My mind kept going back to that sweaty doctor. He knew James, he had access to the kinds of drugs James sold, and he was shifty looking. I didn’t know why Conner wasn’t checking him out, or maybe he was and I just didn’t know.
When the wheels touched down back in Boston I turned on my phone. I had a text from Toryn. It said “call me” and there was an emoji of a crying face and another of a broken heart.
I waited until I was off the plane and on the bus to the T station before I called him. I didn’t want to wait too long. He answered right away and started to spill his story. I almost missed the stop at the T station because I was so focused on him, but I jostled my way off the bus and through the turnstiles. I managed to stay with him through the crowds and noise onto the blue line T headed toward home. I was standing, holding the phone with one hand, the pole with the other, and trying to keep my bag from sliding away with my legs. Each stop required a renegotiation of all of this because I was standing near the door. We kept losing the signal, of course, so
I was dialing him back over and over.
Normally I would switch to the redline at Downtown Crossing, but I decided to stay on to Government Center and take the Greenline to Toryn’s.
“I’m coming over,” I said over the noise of the train when I could get a brief signal. “I’ll be there in ten or fifteen.”
“Okay,” he sobbed.
I disconnected just in time to squeeze out of the train at Government Center.
Toryn’s door was cracked so I walked right in.
He was sitting on the floor in pajamas with his collection of vintage wind-up toys. A tin monkey marched slowly, swinging a stick at its parade drum. The metallic tap tap of the drum slowed with each monkey step.
I dropped my bag, kicked off my shoes, and went over to sit next to him on the floor. I picked up a clown riding a tricycle and carefully turned the crank. I set it down and watched him pedal across the area rug.
“Funny clown?” I asked.
Tory shook his head. He looked up at me and I saw tear tracks down his face. “Oh, sweetie,” I said and hugged him. We sat like that for a while, Toryn in criss-cross-applesauce and me next to him with my arms around his heaving shoulders.
“I love him so much,” he said.
“I know.”
“It really, really hurts.”
“Nothing hurts more than heartbreak.”
“I can’t sleep and I can’t eat and I want to just disappear until the pain goes away.”
“It will go away.”
“It doesn’t feel like it will.” His shoulders heaved and shuddered.
“I know.”
We sat awhile longer. There were faint neighbor noises in the hallway and footsteps in the apartment above. The light through his giant windows grew dim and the little wind-up toys formed a sad twilight army, scattered on the battlefield, clearly not even aware of which direction held the threat.
“When did it happen?” I asked.
“Friday.”
I knew a few things about heartbreak, and the timeline was important. I needed to think about which strategies we could employ now and which ones needed to wait.
“He called,” he said, “and said something had happened.” I could hear him swallow and try to get the next breath without crying. “His ex called. He wanted Brent back. And Brent wanted to go.”
He broke into full cry. Moaning sobs sounded from deep in his chest. I thought about all the breakups he’d had since we’d been friends. I’d never seen him like this. When he gained a little control he went on.
“You know, there’s a question on the online dating thing that says, ‘Do you have an ex you wish you could date again?’ His answered ‘yes’ but I ignored it. Stupid stupid stupid.”
“Oh, Tor, I’m sure a lot of people have an ex they would date again but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t date them. I don’t think you were stupid. You trusted that he was ready to move on, that’s all. He said he was ready to move on, right? I mean, he was on the dating site!”
“He said he was ready. I knew he’d had a heartbreak but he seemed over it. He was really, really into me and then it was like a switch flipped and it’s over.”
I felt really uncomfortable and realized I was holding my breath. I knew that kind of pain. I knew how you could rewind in your mind, go back to when things were great and try to replay without it ending. But reality always surfaced and reliving the good times just made you feel worse. My whole body was getting cramped so I got up and sat on the couch.
“Are you trying to fix it in your head?”
“Yeah. But it doesn’t work. I can’t figure out why he couldn’t love me enough to stay. We had such an amazing connection: mentally, physically, emotionally. I know I didn’t imagine that. He said it too. He even said it when he broke up with me. So why would he go back to a failed relationship when he could stay in one with so much promise? Why did he break us?”
His crying softened, as though his energy was winding down. His sobs turned to a whimper. If he was like me, he had spent the past two nights wailing into a pillow, writhing on his bed wishing for some sort of peace but too tortured by loss to calm himself. The night, with its dearth of distractions, with its empty bed, is the worst. And if you do get to sleep you wake and it all dawns on you again, you relive the horror as you remember what’s happened, and understand what you have to face in the day ahead.
Toryn was sitting with his back against the couch and his knees pulled up to his chest. His arms were wrapped around his legs with his long fingers woven together. He was rocking ever so slightly.
“Do you know the other guy? Do you know who he is?”
“No. I have no idea. I just know his name is Bob.”
“That’s a dumb name,” I said. “It’s not even a name. It’s like just a syllable.”
“Yeah, but I’m sure he’s steamy hot and funny and brilliant.”
“You’re sure, huh? Thick head of silky hair, but none on his back, just a perfect triangle of dark hair highlighting his gorgeous pecs?”
“Exactly,” he said. “He doesn’t even have to shave his ass.”
We both laughed a little.
“He probably has an advanced degree, supports his mother, and volunteers for the Boys and Girls Club,” I said.
“He has a huge cock,” Toryn added, “and no gag reflex.”
We laughed harder. Toryn released his grip on his legs and reached for the lamp on the end table. “But seriously,” he said, “that’s how I imagine him.”
“Of course it is! I do too—no other guy could possibly steal someone from you. But we both know it isn’t true. There’s something else going on. The pull of history, fear of the future, who knows what. This is about Brent’s issues and not your inadequacies.”
“It doesn’t feel like that.”
“I know.”
A drink sounded really good but I didn’t want to suggest it. We were both in danger of depression, and alcohol would work against us.
“Do you want me to go grab some carryout?”
“No thanks, I really can’t eat. My stomach cramps up even without food.”
“Do you want me to stay on the couch tonight?”
“It’s okay, Penny. I’ll be okay. I don’t think people generally die of broken hearts.” He paused for a second and looked at me. “Right?”
“Right. We just wish we could.”
“Yeah.”
I stood to go. I fished my flower remedy out of my travel bag and gave it to him.
“No arms, no legs, floating in a lake?” I asked.
“Bob.”
I gave him a long hug and a kiss on each cheek and told him to call or text anytime.
On my way home I thought about how underqualified I was as a psychologist. I couldn’t figure out the men in my life, let alone help anyone else figure out their love lives. I’d narrowed the field and I wasn’t sure I’d done the right thing. I mean, I took the one guy who loved me most, who was willing to commit, who was stable and kind, and I’d exed him right off my dance card. For what? Certainly not Conner or Marco. They weren’t even real options. They were both too hot and probably dripped trails of women behind them.
As if I’d invoked him, a text rang in from Marco. “Be back in Boston a week from Wednesday. Want to see you.”
Weird when that stuff happens.
If I could do some good in the world, which was a big “if,” I needed to take the opportunities that presented themselves. I’d once helped a girl named Dani find out who murdered her mom and get a stable home situation so that she could move on with her life. I’d heard from her a few times and she was doing really well. She was finishing high school with plans to go to Boston College. I felt really proud of the role I’d played in helping her, even if Vivian hadn’t approved of my extra involvement outside of work.
Now I had Legend who needed my help. And Desiree. Maybe I just needed to focus on them, on places where my efforts stood a chance of paying off. My love life just wasn�
��t looking like that kind of place.
I called Desiree on Monday and gave her Lynnie’s number to see about affordable therapy for Legend. She promised to call right away, and shortly after we hung up I heard Lynnie’s phone ring out in reception.
The next item of business was to find out what was happening with the murder case. I called Conner. I hadn’t seen him or even talked with him in a week, since that late-night kiss. I noticed my breath get shallower as I waited for him to answer his phone. I tried to focus on business.
“Penny. Hi. I was going to stop by today.”
“Any news?”
“I’ve mostly been pulled away on another case, but we do know that Martel is filling in where James left off on dealing. What we don’t know is who all the other players are, and who killed James.”
“Who do you have on your list?”
“I’ll stop by later. When are you free?”
“After three.”
“See you then.”
I wondered if the police were letting this case go. Not that they would close it officially, but it might just languish forever if Conner wasn’t solving the narcotics part and the homicide detective had left the case to Conner. If nobody found the killer, then Legend and Desiree weren’t safe.
I texted Toryn and Gloria and asked them to meet me for lunch. Toryn was still raw, but Gloria was good for him, and a project would be too.
We met close to Toryn’s work and I filled them in.
“There’s this doctor—picture a giant albino pillbug— you know, a roly-poly covered in a sheen of sweat.”
“Eeew,” they chorused.
Gloria said “Jinx one, two, three, four…”
Toryn punched her on the arm and said, “Shut up.”
If nothing else, we were distracting Toryn.
“We’re looking for someone who would want James dead and most likely it would be tied to drug dealing. If the doctor was supplying James with prescription pads or drugs, and he feared getting found out—well, the doc would have a reason to get rid of James, right?”
