I'm very aware that I may be doing the aggressive thing now—changing the subject, gaslighting him into thinking he's crazy for believing the truth.
He looks confused and lowers his voice. "No. Sorry."
And that only makes me feel worse.
I turn my back to him and lock up.
"But I deserve answers," he says timidly.
Which makes me feel awful when I reply, "Do you really though?"
* * *
When I arrive at the café, Michael is already seated at a table along the front windows. His back is to the door, but I recognize his dark hair that's starting to curl around his T-shirt collar. That's something he has in common with Kevin. I bet he wouldn't want to know that.
I walk over and pull out the chair across from him. A cup of coffee sits at the empty space, which means he bought me one. That's sweet.
He looks up a little startled, and I'm taken aback. His eyes are bloodshot and swollen, the tip of his nose red, and there's a bruise along his temple. No doubt from the fight with Kevin.
"Hey, are you okay?" I ask and sit down. I was nervous coming over. We haven't spoken since the funeral, and that hadn't gone well. Plus, there's the whole "is he a murderer" thing. But seeing him this messed up right now makes me feel for him. I also feel disgusted with myself for thinking he could be a murderer. I will be happy when Hilary moves on so that I can get my emotions to be less dramatic.
He shakes his head and grips his cup of coffee tighter. "Not well. The police brought me in for questioning."
"Same."
His eyes widen in surprise. "Why you?"
"A witness saw me near the apartment." He doesn't need to know the details.
"Because you found her."
I nod. "I know. They have to cover their bases, I guess."
This would be the perfect time to tell him everything, and we could commiserate together, but I can't bring myself to confide in him. I feel so distant.
"Why'd you call?" I ask and sip my coffee. It needs more sugar, so I shake a couple of packets and pour them in.
"I didn't like how we left things the other day." He's hunched over and staring into his cup.
That's such a relief that I nearly sigh out loud. I reach across the table and squeeze his fingers. "Me too."
He looks up and offers a half smile, but it's creepy considering he looks like he could star in an allergy commercial.
"I don't care about the affair. It's none of my business, and out of the three of you, you were always my favorite." I chuckle and try to lighten the mood.
He squeezes back. "I'm sorry I kissed Hilary at your house when we were in high school."
He doesn't need to say this. He apologized months ago.
"She told me you could see ghosts and that you had a crush on me. I knew she was lying about the ghost thing, but the crush part, it made sense. It embarrassed me," he says.
"That's what you said when you first came back to town. Why did you kiss Hilary though?" I'm not sure I want to know.
"She kissed me."
Oh.
"But you didn't stop her," I say.
He shakes his head. "No, I didn't. I liked the attention. Suddenly girls were noticing me, and it was nice."
He had been such a shy kid until high school, so this makes sense.
"And did you guys kiss again that school year?" I ask.
"No. I saw what it did to your friendship, and I felt bad. She and I talked. I think she was trying to get you jealous, but I wanted none of that."
I almost hear actual brakes squeal in my mind.
"Wait, why would she want that?" I ask.
"I don't know. But I stayed away other than when she'd corner me in the halls or during lunch. I ignored her calls to my house and requests to hang out. She eventually dropped it. And after graduation, I didn't see her again until I moved back to town this year."
She threw herself at him, but he rejected her. She marries a man who's into me then has an affair with the boy she placed in between our friendship. And somehow I'm the cause for her crappy life? Oh, she has some explaining to do.
"And you were okay with starting something with her now, after all that?" I ask.
"We started talking. Just friends. One day we ran into each other after she and Kevin had an argument. She believed he's secretly in love with you. One thing led to another. Looking back on it, I know she didn't love me, and I think she was once again trying to hurt you in some way."
"Me? But why? I did nothing to her."
"Except come between her marriage." He holds up a hand when I start to protest. "It didn't matter that you hated Kevin, and I can't imagine why that's changed now. But in her eyes, your existence meant her husband wouldn't love her."
I lean back in my chair and sigh. And by being with Michael, she'd hurt me because I once liked him? Wow, she's more messed up in the head than I imagined.
"You know this whole thing is pathetic. It's been a decade, and she's still using you, and I'm still mad at her. Shouldn't we know better?" I ask.
He laughs, and it seems to lighten his mood some. "We should. Look, once her murder is solved, I'll be hitting the road."
"Oh?" A sinking feeling hits my stomach.
"I'm going to go back to traveling. See more of the world. Move on. I didn't want to leave without clearing the air with you though, Gianna. If I have any regrets in my life, it's turning on you and losing my friend."
Well, darn. I can't hold ill feelings after hearing that.
"You haven't lost me. Not completely. Text, email, and let's stay in touch," I say.
"Absolutely."
His smile is bigger and brighter, and I'm really glad he called me. Of course, if he turns out to be Hilary's killer, I may not want to be prison pen pals.
* * *
Later that day, I'm in my apartment, throwing together a quick stir-fry of onions, carrots, and broccoli over some quinoa, when my phone buzzes. It's a text from Kevin.
Can we talk?
I nearly choke on a carrot chunk. Oh, not now. I could ignore him. Even if he's downstairs and sees my car, he doesn't know I'm definitely home. I set down my phone on the breakfast bar and scoop a forkful of quinoa into my mouth.
My conversation with Michael comes back to mind. He didn't believe Hilary when she told him I can see ghosts. Kevin didn't believe it either, even though there were actually ghosts in my apartment moving things when he was here, but he had been highly intoxicated.
My phone buzzes again.
Please. I'm downstairs.
I sigh and set down my fork. Whatever. I guess a truce shouldn't include ignoring the person. I run downstairs and peek out the door.
He's still in his car and steps out when he sees me. His expression looks like he's afraid I'm going to yell at him.
I wave him in and run back upstairs. I'm not interrupting my dinner.
When he comes up, I've moved and am sitting on the couch and holding my plate.
"I only made enough for one, but there's plenty of lasagna in the fridge. Help yourself."
He grins and shuts my door. "Sounds good, but can we talk first?"
Here it comes.
"Do we have to?" I stare at my food.
He sits on the other end of the couch. "I know we've only been friends for a few days."
Is that what we're calling this?
"And you don't owe me anything. In fact, I probably owe you."
Well, I like where this conversation is going so far.
"Go on," I say.
He chuckles and leans back. "I don't want to push, but this morning… I'm thinking that Hilary wasn't lying when she said you could see ghosts. Was she right?"
I concentrate my attention on my plate and chew slowly.
"When I asked last time, I was angry and didn't do it right."
That's for sure.
"Why were you angry?" I ask. "I'd done nothing to you."
"It was the way Hilary told me, like the two of you ha
d a secret, and she was mocking me for not knowing. I'd been drinking, so I wasn't in the best frame of mind."
I bite into a broccoli floret.
"Will you please tell me? Honestly. Were you talking to Hilary's ghost this morning?" He looks so sincere and eager to learn. I could lie and hope he drops it. I'm fairly certain I can come up with a ruse and say that I was pretending Hilary was there. It wouldn't make complete sense considering I was telling her to shush, but it's doable. Or I can come clean and have some relief about being honest with one more person.
And then there's the fact that these two were married. As much as I don't want too many people knowing my secret, I don't know if I should prevent him from having a final conversation with his wife. Can I live with myself if I don't let them speak? This could also be the perfect way to find out if he really killed her.
I stare at him straight in the eye and use my strongest, most threatening tone. "If you tell one person, and I mean one, I will never forgive you. Do you hear me?"
Is my forgiveness really that important to him though?
His eyes widen and he loses a bit of color, but he nods and then slides closer to me. "So it's true? You can see ghosts?"
I set my plate on the coffee table. There goes my hot meal. Then I turn to him and raise my index finger. "One!"
"Yes, of course. I won't tell a soul. It remains between us forever. I can keep a secret."
And just like that, Hilary appears. I'm fairly convinced she spends a lot of time hovering where I can't see her and appears when the time is right.
"Yes, I can see ghosts."
His entire face stretches out as he lowers his jaw and makes a super animated "whoa" expression. He rubs his chin and takes a deep breath. "Why? How?"
I tell him about my near-death experience when I was eight.
"You fell in the deli downstairs?"
"Yes."
"And Hilary knew." He stands up and begins pacing by the breakfast bar.
Hilary floats over to the TV across the room from me.
"Yeah, she knew, and she told Michael in high school, and that's why I never spoke to her again."
He scoffs. "I thought it was because she kissed Michael and you had a crush on him."
"Well, that didn't help, but the worst of it was telling my secret."
She rolls her eyes. "Are you still on that?"
"I had a long talk with Michael today," I say.
They both look at me with intent.
I repeat most of the conversation we shared. "He said you were practically stalking him in high school and that it was to get back at me. Why? What the heck did I do to you?"
So those weren't his exact words but close enough.
"Wait, she's here now?" Kevin asks and looks off near the TV, like he's going to suddenly see her.
"Yeah, she's here. Well? Why were you angry with me?" I ask her.
"Because you had it all. The nice family, a cute guy friend…"
I jump up. "Nice family? I think your mother and Steven are pretty nice."
"You remember how my father walked out on us?"
Actually, I don't. We were in third grade. I recall her being sad, but it was so long ago, and I was too young to fully grasp what it all meant.
"That wasn't my fault. And you and I were best friends. I was your best friend."
"What is she saying?" Kevin asks.
Hilary turns and goes over to the windows. "You just don't get it. You don't know what it was like to feel invisible, alone, abandoned."
"Of course I did!" I shout so loud that I'll be surprised if Pop doesn't run up to see what's wrong.
Hilary turns and looks at me.
"I know what it feels like to be abandoned by people I loved because you and Michael abandoned me."
She and I stare at one another without saying a word.
She opens her mouth, ready to say something, when Kevin says, "Wait, why hasn't she told you who killed her?'
I wait for whatever she was going to say, but she folds her arms across her chest and glares at Kevin. That moment is now gone forever. I'm tired of trying with her. I'm exhausted from this whole situation. I just want to go back to being the girl who loves sandwiches too much and talks to ghosts who are strangers. No emotional turmoil for me.
I turn his way. "She did. She says you killed her."
His face reddens and his entire body tenses. "What?"
"Shh, Pop is downstairs. I don't want to worry him."
He's still a shade of pink and says through clenched teeth, "I did not kill her."
I point to where she is and sit back down. Like I said, I'm tired, so I'm done being personally involved for the rest of today. I'll have to translate, but I may be able to finish my meal.
"Why would you lie about that?" he asks the front windows.
"Why did you marry me when you didn't love me?" she asks.
I repeat what she said and stab a carrot with my fork.
He rubs his forehead. "We dated when you were in college. I cared…care about you."
From the hurt look on her face, she heard him slip too. In fairness, he could be referencing her death.
I focus on my food. I'll tell him what she says, but it's probably best if I avoid any eye contact with them. This feels oddly voyeurish.
"I—I'm sorry. I should have waited to propose."
So he's admitting they shouldn't have married and that he doesn't love her. Ouch! I actually feel bad for her.
Hilary points to me. "It's her fault, isn't it?"
I widen my eyes from the surprise of being brought back into this again, and then I frown because I can't escape it. "Me? Now what did I do?"
"What did she say?" he asks.
I repeat her words and place my plate back down. My stomach is soured with all of the arguing. I'm done eating.
"Gianna isn't to blame," he says and shuts his eyes. "Okay, maybe a little."
I deeply frown. "Hey!"
"But not directly. It's not her. It's me," he confesses. "I was annoyed at her for things when we were younger, and when she returned to South Shore Beach…"
"You married me to get back at her," Hilary says.
I don't repeat it. We all know it's true.
Darn.
"We're pathetic," I say, and they both look at me. "We're a group of children who didn't know how to speak how we felt, so we've just stayed mad at one another all of these years. We'll be thirty in a few years."
Hilary points to Kevin. "He's already over thirty."
We laugh together, and Kevin wants to know what's going on. I don't know why it's funny. Timing and cadence perhaps. But it feels good to laugh.
When I don't tell him why I'm chuckling, he takes a few steps closer to the windows. "I'm sorry, Hilary. I didn't intentionally mean to hurt you."
She floats over until she's directly in front of him.
I don't want to ruin the moment, so I keep quiet, but I wonder if he can tell she's so close.
"And I'm sorry for Michael."
I repeat that message.
"Please stop telling Gianna or any other ghosts you may see that I killed you when I didn't."
She says nothing.
They stare at one another for another minute. Then Kevin turns to me. "I should go. Thank you."
He walks out, and when the door shuts, I stand up and face Hilary.
"So you're admitting he didn't kill you?"
She glances in my eyes and looks away.
"Yes."
I can't believe it. I mean, I assumed she was lying, but to actually hear her say it is different.
"Who did, then?" I ask.
"I don't know," she says.
Oh, come on.
"You're lying."
She juts out her chin. "And what if I am? I don't want you to find my killer. It doesn't matter."
"Of course it does. Don't you want them brought to justice? Don't you want to give your mother peace in knowing?"
"Gianna, stop. Please
."
How can she not want this? It makes little sense.
And then suddenly it does.
"You're protecting this person, aren't you?"
She says nothing, and a sickening feeling comes over me. "It's Michael, isn't it?"
Without another word, she disappears.
* * *
I place my plate in the microwave to reheat, and my phone buzzes. It's a text from Izzie.
On way to hosp. In labor. For sure.
Oh, oh, what do I do?
I turn off the microwave, grab my purse, shoes, and keys, and run down to my car.
South Shore Beach Memorial Hospital is in the east end of town. It's only a ten-minute drive, but of course I get every light and slow driver ahead of me.
By the time I park, run inside, and get up to the maternity floor, the rest of the family is waiting as well. Ma is sitting beside Alice. Enzo is several chairs over, and Pop is pacing in the corner. They see me, smile, and continue to look off into their own thoughts.
"So it's real this time?" I ask and sit across from my niece.
Ma nods. "Looks like it."
"And we just sit here and wait?" I know we can't do anything else, but just sitting here feels rather unproductive.
"You can pace like Pop," Enzo says.
That's not a bad idea.
I get up and walk to the front of the waiting room and hear a couple of nurses talking at the desk.
"Can you believe she said that to him?" one of them says.
Oooh, this sounds way juicier than sitting with the family and is something to occupy my mind.
"He told her she wasn't the one for him, and he didn't give her a rose," the nurse says.
Oh, they're talking about a TV show. That's not nearly as juicy as I hoped.
"I really need to watch that," the other nurse says. "Did you hear that only one person won the High Ball Eight last week?"
"Really? I didn't know. Wasn't the amount really high?"
"Yeah, something like a hundred grand."
"Wow, lucky person."
Lucky indeed. If I had that kind of money, I'd pay off any debt I'd accumulated, and then I'd buy a house, help out my family, and take a…
Diamonds, Pies & Dead Guys Page 21
