by Jessica Roe
It’s busy when we push our way inside, but almost immediately my eyes are drawn through the crowds to one person.
Of course, right? Because why wouldn’t he be here?
In a town he never really liked.
In this particular pub.
Fate is clearly trying to screw with me, the little bitch.
My stomach clenches painfully. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since our last showdown. A tidal wave of need hits me with a force I almost can’t handle and I have to physically stop myself from going to him, have to dig my heels into the sticky carpeted floor to keep my feet from moving.
“Shit. Is that. . .is that Nathan Alders?” Micah questions quietly from behind me. I tear my eyes away from Nathan to look back at my brother; he’s paled considerably.
My gaze swivels to Seth. He remains nonchalant on the outside but his jaw is clenched.
There’s no way this can possibly end well.
“Let’s find somewhere else to eat,” Aunt Ellie chimes desperately, her forced grin screwed on way too tight. “I think perhaps I may have been wrong about the aura of this establishment. Even the best of us make mistakes sometimes.”
She keeps on chattering but I no longer hear her as I return to watching Nathan over by the bar. Once again he seems worse for wear, drunk off his damned ass. An equally inebriated redhead perches on his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck to keep from falling.
I try my hardest to ignore how much it hurts to see him with another woman because I have no right to feel that way. No right at all. But it does hurt, so much that the pain leaves me breathless – only for a few seconds, though it may as well have been an eternity.
“Shall we go then?” Aunt Ellie suggests uncomfortably, and I realize I’ve been staring far too long. From the look of the muscle ticking in Seth’s jaw, he’s noticed too. “I’m sure I saw a nice looking Chinese restaurant back near where we parked the car.”
But it’s too late for that. Because I was unable to do anything but stand here and stare incessantly like a hungry seagull eyeing a half-eaten sandwich, we don’t make our escape in time. Nathan turns, spotting us on the other side of the room. It seems like we all forget how to move because we just stand, watching as his face turns from impassive to belligerent in less time than it takes for me to suck in a breath of air as his gaze meets mine. Tipping the redhead unceremoniously from his lap, he practically falls from the barstool before righting himself and sauntering over in our direction. Everything about Nathan right now, the expression on his face, the swagger in his step, the darkness gleaming in his eyes, screams that he’s looking for a fight. The redhead straightens down her denim mini and trots after him.
We should have left when we had the chance. Why didn’t we leave when we had the chance?
Oh, that’s right – because I’m a stupid asshole.
“You’re both here!” Nathan cheers when he reaches us, far too loudly for comfort. Even though he’s just standing now, he still somehow manages to stumble over his own feet and only just saves himself from falling on his ass. “What a beautiful fucking coincidence. So nice to see the happy couple out and about – you kids spend far too much time cooped up indoors.”
Worried for his stupid safety even though I wish I weren’t, I demand, “Why the hell are you here?”
Waving a hand in a swirling motion around him, he replies dramatically, “This place sells alcohol. And I. Love. Alcohol. It’s a win win really.”
“In Cherinsville,” I clarify, my voice coming out harder than I meant it to. Right now I’m balancing precariously on a line. On one side I let slip how much I care for Nathan and upset Seth in the process, and on the other I act cool towards Nathan to appease Seth and hurt Nathan more than I already have. And God, I don’t want to hurt him anymore. “Why are you here in Cherinsville?”
He shrugs dismissively. “They keep tryna get me sobered up. Needed a new place to come where I wouldn’t be followed around the whole town and fuckin’ judged. What the hell are you doing here?”
I can only assume that they are his friends, and if they haven’t been able to get through to him, then that doesn’t bode well.
Worried about where this confrontation is heading and all too aware of the many eyes slowly beginning to focus on us, I skip past his question and say, “Nathan-“
But he ignores me, choosing to stare down Seth instead. Seth holds his own, not backing down, but not in any way engaging in the fight Nathan seems determined to have. He has so much more calm and restraint than I ever could.
“She’ll always be mine. You know that, right?” Nathan’s words come out with a slur. “No matter what. Always.”
The redhead makes a noise of disgust at this, glaring first at me and then at Nathan. When he says nothing to appease the offence he’s caused her, she scowls furiously at him. “Asshole,” she hisses, before slinking back to wherever the hell it was she came from. I can’t help but selfishly feel glad about this; I’ve made my choices, but the thought of Nathan being with anyone else makes me irrational in a way nothing else could.
Nathan, however, doesn’t even seem to realize she’s gone, and sure doesn’t care. The fight hasn’t left him. On a normal day Nathan could take Seth easily – Seth’s no fighter. But right now Nathan can barely keep himself upright – all Seth would have to do is shove him backwards and he’d be down. Luckily for all of us, Seth is too good a man to rise to Nathan’s bait. I see him struggling internally for a moment (I think secretly he’d love the chance to throw a solid punch Nathan’s way), but I can tell the exact moment he manages to push that urge back in favor of being the bigger person. He would never get into a fight, especially not with somebody in Nathan’s drunk ass condition. Because Seth allows his brain to make the decisions; every move is thought out carefully, nothing is ever out of place or done without serious consideration. Though this is something I’ve appreciated over the years because I’d thought it’s what I wanted, I realize now that Seth is this way because he lacks something; he lacks. . .passion. Whereas Nathan, he’s ruled by passion, by his heart. He’s the most passionate man I’ve ever known. It’s why we’re explosive whenever we’re together.
“Come on, man,” Seth says soothingly to Nathan, so. . .so understandingly. “Let’s not do this. You need to get home and sleep this off before you land yourself a night in hospital, and trust me when I tell you there are people out there who need those beds more than you do. Let me drive you home, okay?”
Nathan just stares at Seth like he’s grown an extra head. If anything, he gets angrier. “Can you just. . . I’m trying to. . . I’m tryna fuckin’ hate you here! Can you just not be so goddamned decent so I can hate you and not feel like a complete ass about it? Jesus!”
Seth, clearly unsure about how to respond to this, gapes. “I’m. . .sorry?”
Dismissing him, Nathan’s gaze flickers over the rest of our group, over Micah and Aunt Ellie. . .and then slowly back to Micah once more. It takes him a long, confused moment, but then recognition dawns and suddenly a whole new kind of anguish takes over his features. I can’t even begin to understand what pain seeing my brother again for the first time is unleashing within him, but my heart. . .it aches. It aches for him.
Every one of us freezes, waiting with bated breath to see how he’ll react to having Micah standing right before him. I’m terrified something violent it about to happen. Sure of it, actually. I’m fully prepared to jump between them if I have to. I’m not about to let either of these two men get hurt.
My brother is a whole head taller than Nathan and practically twice as broad, but he cowers back. I don’t think it’s the violence that scares him, but the judgement he’s expecting to be thrown his way. This is what he’s spent half his life running from.
And then Nathan. . .
He surprises everyone.
Out of nowhere he stumbles forward, startling us all. I’m so tense and stiff at this point that when I flinch it feels like an electric sho
ck. Nathan shoves his way through Seth and I to get to Micah.
“Nathan. . .” I start, but I have no words to follow. I clench my fists, preparing to have to jump on his back and wrestle him down like a gator.
But Nathan reaches out and he. . .he just grips one of Micah’s shoulders beneath a shaking hand. “I forgive you,” he tells him sincerely. “I fucking forgive you.”
I let out a breath.
Emotion swells within me for the pain I know Nathan is pushing back for my brother’s sake. I would give anything to be able to ease that for him, to help him in some way, but I can’t. I lost that right. I lost it when I didn’t choose him.
Micah says nothing in response, just watches Nathan with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. It’s like he’s lost the ability to form words. In fact, I’m almost sure that’s what’s happened.
This is nothing like how any of us expected this encounter to go.
Nathan just. . .loses all his steam then. He steps back from Micah, deflating until there’s barely anything left of him at all. He just gives up; the fight, his rage, on life.
Sensing the drama is over, the diners go back to their conversations and the low murmur of voices rises up again as they get back to their own nights out.
Seth really does drive Nathan home after that. I’m not sure putting the two of them in a car alone is such a good idea, but Seth assures me they’ll be fine. As I watch Nathan’s slumped form disappear from the pub, I know that to be true, if only because Nathan no longer seems to have the will to do anything, least of all fight.
Although most of them have lost interest, a few patrons continue to stare at us after the two of them leave. All I want to do now is to find somewhere quiet and dark to curl up in. The last thing I want is to remain in this place and force food down my throat while people talk about us, but the stubborn Phee in me refuses to leave. Besides, Mom and Dad haven’t had enough time alone yet and if we’re gonna stay somewhere, it may as well be here.
So Micah, Aunt Ellie and I remain, finding a corner booth with a relative amount of privacy, away from prying eyes. Aunt Ellie spills from the brim with false cheer, determined to make this the nice family dinner it was intended to be from the start. But it’s awkward. None of us know what to say after what just went down; we don’t feel like we can talk about it, but don’t want to talk about anything else either. Conversation is stilted at best.
But I notice something different about my brother now as I observe him, sat across the other side of the table, staring down at his fork. Something has changed. He’s lighter than he was, even just an hour ago. A weight has been lifted from his shoulders, one he’s carried around for too many years.
Nathan’s forgiveness did that.
Nathan did that.
Chapter 29
Ophelia
IT HAPPENS.
IT really happens.
It comes slowly.
Quickly.
Out of the blue.
Yet it’s not a surprise.
It happens all at once and even though I’ve prepared myself for it, I’m not ready. I’m not ready at all.
Mom passes away peacefully in her sleep one cold, February night, her reunited family surrounding her bedside as she closes her eyes a final time.
We grieve harder than I ever imagined possible, but it’s been coming for so long now that I realize we’ve been grieving already this entire time – even if we hadn’t known it. Because we’ve been so well prepared, her death is easier to accept in some ways, almost easier to deal with. Almost.
The one thing I can truly take comfort in is knowing my mom is at peace now. She’s finally able to rest. And in her final moments she was happy; blissfully, wonderfully happy.
I hate that she’s gone, but I’m glad it happened this way – glad we knew it was coming. Watching her slip away into nothingness these past couple of months has been heartbreaking, but if she’d passed away suddenly then we never would have had this extra time with her. Micah and I never would have come back to Norson Lake, never would have been able to make our amends. But we did come back, and we fixed our family. We healed the rift, and now there are no more regrets.
Yet there’s a permanent hole in my heart now, a space my mom’s presence used to fill. Nothing will ever repair it, I understand that. I understand it, and I accept it. There are some heartbreaks that are never supposed to heal, some heartbreaks that we must learn to live with.
We hold her funeral in the local church. The outdoor ceremony is frosty, yet beautiful in the simplest of ways. A layer of ice coats each blade of grass beneath our feet, but a February sun shines down upon us, like a warm smile kissing our skin.
My mom’s smile.
I think the entire population of Norson Lake turn up to pay their respects. It certainly feels that way. Mom was beloved by so many people.
Pastor Dean had known Mom his whole life, had been babysat by her when she was a teenager, so his speech about what a kind, wonderful woman she was isn’t the empty words of a man just doing his job. It comes from the very depths of his heart. He doesn’t bother to wipe away the tears on his cheeks; there’s no shame in grief. It’s funny; grief is a feeling we all fear, but it’s one of the truest things that makes us human. Our ability to feel that all-encompassing pain, it makes us real.
The pastor blurs out of focus as he continues to talk and I look past him, staring into the depths of the forest. The darkness within those trees beckons me closer, the peace I know I’d find there something I crave.
And that’s when I see him.
This time he’s not drunk, disheveled, stumbling. He’s not angry or hostile. Nathan stands off in the distance, unnoticeable to everyone but me, because none of them are watching out for him like I am. Like I always am. He leans against the trunk of a tree in his shirt and tie, away from the ceremony, but here. Despite everything, Nathan is here. He came. For me.
+++
WE HAVE THE wake back at the house. People smile. People cry. They tell me how sorry they are, how my mom is at rest now.
And I drink.
I drink so I no longer have to think. I drink so I no longer have to feel. I drink so much that people begin to shoot me pitying glances, and Seth looks embarrassed about having to deal with me.
“Maybe you should lay down a while,” Nellie suggests as I stumble into the kitchen to pour myself another. She arrived yesterday morning. I didn’t even have to ask – she just showed up like a knight in shining armor with a bottle of tequila in one hand and a pack of smokes in the other. Neither of us usually smoke, but when tequila is involved we can steam right through a pack of menthols like there’s no tomorrow. I’d never been happier to see anyone in my life.
“Don’t wanna.”
She gives me a stern look, which causes me to guffaw because it makes her face look funny. “That’s it. Bed.”
The room spins a little when I straighten, and bed suddenly seems like exactly where I need to be. Or just. . .away. From eyes; prying eyes, sympathetic eyes, curious, disapproving eyes. I let Nellie lead me into the room, pretending not to notice our guests staring at me as we go, and I flop down on top of my covers. Pulling off my shoes, she sighs and tucks me under a throw. It smells of Mom.
“Oh, honey,” she murmurs softly when I start to cry. Big, fat tears and loud hiccups, like a child. Her own eyes grow damp, because the two of us have always been so close that my pain is her pain, and vice versa. She’s like my female Nathan, only she can handle her alcohol better and there’s much less sex. “Right. I’m gonna start shooing people out of here, then I’m getting under there with you and we’re just gonna lay here all night and cry. Seth can sleep on the sofa. Sound good?”
I nod miserably, and she kisses me on the forehead before slipping from the room.
It’s only five seconds before I’m climbing back out of bed and sliding open my bedroom window.
+++
THE WOODS ARE my second home, always have been. Even after spending s
o many years away from them they still provide me with a comfort that nothing else ever has, so it’s no surprise that I find myself wandering through them minutes later, barefoot and still in my black funeral dress. I walk, barely feeling the sticks and sharp stones cutting into my feet, until I can no longer hear the buzz of voices back at the house. I walk until the silence of the woods engulfs me, and then I walk some more.
My feet are on autopilot, taking me on a journey my brain has no say in. I’m glad – my brain is exhausted.
It’s not long before I find myself at the spot. Our spot. That secret, mossy clearing where Nathan and I would always meet whenever we wanted to be together.
I’m almost not surprised to see him here. Of course he’s here.
Nathan sits on the ground, his back against the thick tree trunk that once had our initials carved into. I wonder if they’re still there. His suit jacket and tie have been dumped on the floor next to him, his top shirt button undone.
Like me, he isn’t surprised by my presence here.
Without a word I slide down next to him, leaning my head against his shoulder. His shirt is crisp and white. It smells new.
“I miss you,” he whispers almost silently, and somehow the words make it through the swirling storm in my brain. I don’t reply, because I’m still very drunk and I’m not sure I know how to form coherent sentences right now.
We continue to sit in silence, our breathing synchronized, our legs entwined. We stare at the creaking branches of the trees as they sway in the February breeze, yet we don’t see anything at all. I don’t feel the biting air but Nathan must think I’m cold because at some point he pulls his suit jacket over me like a blanket.
“I miss you too,” I finally manage, my voice cracking.
