Suddenly done with it all, I said, “Oh, fuck it, what the hell does it mean now. Great, you’re sorry.” I stepped back, dismissing Jake. “Go back home.”
He walked forward, gripping my shoulders with his hands, caging me in with his arms. “I’m sorry, Lane.” And then through gritted teeth, he said, “For doing what I did. I shouldn’t have done that. I was just playing, and I didn’t know any better. And well, you know . . . Shirley fell asleep and you didn’t want to play with me.”
“Say it, Jake.”
I was losing patience; I’d never loved and hated another person more in my life. We shared blood and some innate bond as twins, so I couldn’t cut off my caring for him. But compassion was hard to find when it came to Jake.
He broke free from me, taking a step backward and then another. “It was my fault. All of it. The accident. It was all me. I played with the car, pretended to be fixing stuff that I had no business messing with, all because I wanted to be like Dad. Oh shit. Dad . . . he’s gone because of me.” Then he bent over like a runner trying to catch his breath after a race, and said between raspy breaths, “Okay, you happy? I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m not okay,” I spit out. “I’ve carried that shit around with me for years. When I was little, I worried they would take you away from me. When I was older, I was worried others would judge me like I’d judged myself all these years. I’m so ashamed. We killed our own parents.” Doing my damnedest to hold my shit together, I sat down and cradled my forehead in my hands.
Jake stepped next to me and rested a hand on my back. “You were an innocent bystander. A kid, Lane. We were the same age. I did what I did, and you had no power over me to stop me. You were the well-behaved brother, the one who went in our room and played Legos while I single-handedly ruined our lives while Shirley slept. Speaking of her—”
Not allowing him to finish, I interrupted. “That’s what my therapist has said since I moved here, that I was an innocent bystander. But I needed to hear it from you.”
“You don’t think I don’t walk around with this in my soul, burning my gut all the fucking time? It was me!” Jake said softly, almost a whisper in my ear as he bent over and leaned on the island.
“I see it. It’s why I’m always cleaning up your messes, excusing your lousy behavior. I can’t imagine . . .”
My eyes stung, and I felt tears fill my eyes. It had been a long time since I’d felt that. Looking up at my twin, I saw that Jake’s eyes were wet too.
Right there in the middle of my kitchen, my brother and I finally had a reckoning that was twenty years in the making. We fell apart, dissolving into bits and pieces of emotion that scattered around the room.
As I lifted my hand to swipe away my tears, I wondered if we would be able to put ourselves back together.
AJ
It felt really good to hit the open road. Rock music blaring through my truck, a cigarette hanging from my mouth as I shifted lanes—I couldn’t give up all my vices—and the fall breeze wafting through my open window. I was free.
From her.
From booze.
From everything.
I’d been out of rehab for a few months. I’d gone home for a while, done the meetings, made my apologies, got along on my own just fine. Then I needed to get out.
I couldn’t see Bess every day just yet, even if we had made our peace, hugged, and declared ourselves friends. The knowledge that she was alone now didn’t make me feel as good as I thought it would.
Bess was a good soul. The best. She forgave me for it all—the attack, the stealing, the stalking. She deserved happiness, and I wanted her to have it, even if it ended up being with that prick, Lane.
I stuck my hand out the window, signaling I was stopping for gas to the head of my crew who was following me down to North Carolina. I’d met a guy in rehab who wanted me to do a job for him. I thought it would be good for me, a change of scenery and all that shit.
Jax, my right-hand man, was coming with me, and we’d pick up a crew down there after speccing the job. It would be a long one, and I was looking forward to lying low for a while.
Yeah, I’d go to meetings. I had the details for local ones in my phone. Jax wouldn’t care; he knew the drill. Dude had been with me a long time.
Made me wonder how Bess was doing it. Her world had crashed down on her so many times since cleaning up, and she seemed to just get stronger. I envied her that, but was happy for her just the same.
Throwing the truck in park, I got out to pump gas at the same time as Jax. “Dude, you ready?” I asked him.
He twisted the gas cap off of his truck and joked, “The question is, are Southern babes ready for me?”
I just gave him a half smile, but said nothing as I ran my credit card at the pump.
Seeing my reaction, Jax shook his head. “Sorry, man. I know it’s a bad subject. Listen, a few weeks of new pussy and you’ll feel on top of the world.”
I let out a loud laugh. That was exactly what I didn’t need right now, but I didn’t want to burst Jax’s bubble.
Twisting the cap back on the tank, I hopped in the cab and pulled out with Jax on my tail, a small smile spread across my face. Checking my reflection in the rearview, I knew I needed to let go of Bess, both for her sake and for mine.
I still loved her, but she was gone to me.
Maybe some new pussy was just the ticket.
Bess
“See you, May,” I said, dodging around a scarecrow.
It was October, and the entire hotel, including the staff corridor, was decorated for Halloween coming up in a few weeks.
“You coming to the staff party tomorrow?” she yelled back to me after I rounded the corner toward the lockers.
“I think so. I’ve never been before, but I’m changing things up, so I guess. What do you think?” I called back, grabbing my purse from my locker.
“I think you should go, because you deserve to have a good time. But don’t wear those shoes,” May said, her voice clear and too close. She’d sneaked up on me and was standing on the other side of the locker door when I slammed it shut, looking at my Nikes.
Shit.
“Brooks and I are going to eat pizza and watch horror movies tonight. I don’t know of a better time, but I’m seriously considering going to the party tomorrow.” I hustled to head out to my car, not giving her a chance to nag me about it any further.
I was back to my old life. I worked hard, serving both breakfast and lunch at the hotel, went to meetings, and spent time with my dog. My greatest pleasure came from eating scones with Ernesto.
Okay, I was doing a little more socializing. I’d been to May’s house for tea, Ernesto’s for a big Sunday-night dinner, and was trying to make peace with it being more than normal to see movies and grab dinner with a friend or two.
I’d even taken a trip. Camper had suggested that we take a few days and get to know each other again. She’d apparently won a trip through her job—with Jake—to a posh hotel in New York City, and took me as her guest. Even though the whole trip stank of Lane’s doing, I couldn’t help but have a blast.
We’d taken a regional jet out of the small local airstrip, landing in the Big Apple just in time for rush hour. Even that had been awesome to see. Cars honking, taxis blaring by, people everywhere, bicycles whipping by our cab’s window—it was a living, breathing zoo of humans. We arrived at our hotel right on Central Park South, and as soon as we’d entered our elegant suite and I saw the million-dollar view, I’d known.
When I turned and glared at Camper, she made puppy-dog eyes at me and said, “Don’t say it, don’t ruin it. Let’s just have fun. You deserve it, okay?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and said, “Okay,” and I’d meant it. I’d never really been anywhere, other than Florida, and I was going to enjoy this getaway. Especially spending time with my old friend.
We spent the first whole day checking out the Statue of Liberty from Battery Park before taking the subway up to th
e Village, where we had amazing Italian food and even better conversation.
Sipping on sparkling water with huge lemon slices floating among the ice cubes, Camper asked, “So, do you ever look back and regret meeting me or doing what we did back then?”
“No, of course not. I was long gone, checked out emotionally before I even met you. I would’ve found my way to all of that even if I didn’t meet you.”
She leaned in and wrapped her hand over mine on the table. “I’m sorry I didn’t take better notice or help.”
I gripped her fingers and said, “And I’m sorry for dragging you down and then locking you out.”
Then at the same time, we both said, “Enough!”
“Right, we’re here to have fun!” I insisted.
We’d spent the rest of the time taking in more sights and a Broadway show. On the last night in New York, we’d stayed in the room, giggling in our pajamas with mud masks on our faces, courtesy of the hotel spa.
Over our room service dinner, Camper had gotten serious again and said, “I wish we’d known back then we could have this much fun without all that shit.”
“Yeah, I know. But we still have now.”
That was it for the heavy stuff. We went back home the day after, feeling connected and positive.
Now as I made my way to my car after work, I reminded myself of that feeling. I needed to keep it going. Often it took a daily or hourly reminder, but I was trying.
Of course there were meetings, and they helped. I was back at the church for the nighttime gatherings, pouring strength into others and dipping into theirs when I needed it.
My biggest problem was, I still preferred the isolation. There was solace in the time I was left alone with my memories of the first trip I took to Florida, or the words imprinted in my mind from the letter Lane had sent with the necklace, or the shorter ones that followed.
I hadn’t talked to Lane directly since the night he watched me pull away in the town car, but there were packages. A small box arrived every month by courier. Each one included something small for Brooks like a doggy bowtie covered in oranges, a lemon for me, and either a bag of sand or seashells. One even contained a sealed bottle of ocean water.
There was always the same simple apology note.
Dear Bess,
Sending you and Brooks some Florida sunshine. I never should have turned my back on you, but you deserve the sun and the moon and the stars. Not just Florida’s.
I’m so sorry.
~ Lane
Jake had stayed in touch, also refusing to let me wallow in my preferred solitude. I saw him on my own a few times, and sometimes with Camper.
As for the two of them—Camper and Jake—something was up, but I wasn’t savvy enough to figure it out. At the thought, I laughed as I clicked my key fob to unlock my car door. I couldn’t even figure out my own love life, let alone someone else’s.
I drove past the new strip mall, distracted for a moment with the view of reddish and burnt-orange leaves, and my thoughts turned to AJ. He headed out last week to new experiences, thinking it would give him a fresh start. I hoped so. I forgave him; it wasn’t in me to hold a grudge against him. We’d shared some intimate moments—not just sex, but meetings and friendship and borderline stalking. It didn’t matter now. He was better without me. My heart belonged to someone else, a man whose own heart wasn’t available.
Pulling up to my house, I couldn’t hold back the sadness. It had been a year since Lane Wrigley came into my life. Originally, I’d thought it was a death sentence being called to a dinner for my employers’ sake.
But as it turned out, Lane breathed life back into me. He was the first one to show me how to live again, during our precious time in Florida as we walked in the woods or made love, and even during that very first awkward dinner in the tavern.
The last few months had been good for me. I had been getting back to experiencing the world, opening myself up to really feeling and seeing it with people I cared about and who cared for me. The problem was that I wanted to do it with Lane, but he couldn’t do that with me. Or maybe he wouldn’t, I didn’t know. His life was tethered to something or someone else. I didn’t know what the nightmares were about, but I knew they kept him stuck in the past—and apart from me.
After unlocking my door, I was immediately greeted by a wagging tail and gigantic paws stepping on my feet.
“Hey, Brooks, how’re you doing?” I said to my dog, half expecting him to answer.
It was hard to believe that I woke up on a chilly morning last fall and Brooks was the only man in my life. But that was before, and this was now. As if the last year didn’t happen, Brooks was still the only guy in my world.
I let him out to relieve himself, leaving the door slightly open so he could come back in while I busied myself with turning on the oven, filling the kettle with water, and scooping a cup of dog food.
“Hurry up, Brooks, we’ve got a hot date,” I called behind me to the half-open door.
“You do? Sucks for me,” I heard behind my back. Stopping what I was doing, I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing my hands on the counter in front of me.
I’m hearing voices?
I couldn’t turn around—refused to—because I didn’t want the fantasy to end. I wanted to hear the voice again. Squeezing my eyes tighter, I wished with all my might for him to say something else.
Inhaling deeply, I took in the essence of a ghost. His scent was clean, tiny hints of sand and surf lingering with soap, the manly spearmint kind. Then I felt his presence—his hand was at my lower back—and if I squeezed my eyes tighter, I could almost feel his fingers caressing me.
I must be hallucinating.
His warm breath tickled my cheek as he whispered my name in my ear. I leaned all my weight into the counter in front of me, pressing my pelvis flush with the hard stone to steady my thoughts and brace myself, since I was obviously sleeping while standing up and I didn’t want to fall.
Brooks barked, interrupting my dream. “Shh, be quiet,” I said out loud.
I heard the voice again. “Bess?”
“Hmm?” I answered, holding a conversation with a figment of my imagination.
“Bess, it’s me. I’m here. Right behind you.”
Something pressed against my back a little harder. His full hand. It moved, making circles that were soothing and comforting. I shook my head, trying to separate reality from fantasy, before opening my eyes and turning around.
And there he was. My eyes widened as I took in the beard. That’s new.
“Lane?” I said so quietly, I could barely hear myself.
“Bess.” He leaned in and touched his forehead to mine.
“You’re here? How? Why?” I murmured. I didn’t move for fear he would disintegrate.
“I’m here.” He brushed his thumb along my cheek, pulling back and looking directly in my eyes. “I needed to say I was sorry in person, to explain, to make amends. I never meant to hurt you, but I don’t want to interrupt your date. I didn’t think,” he said, waving toward the now closed door.
“What date?”
“You said you had a hot date. Your door was open, you were yelling to Brooks.”
“No, no date. Just Brooks and me. Pizza and a movie.”
“Oh, that’s good . . . very good,” he said after letting out a long breath.
Horses were galloping across my chest. I brought my hand up to my heart, kneading and massaging it back to a regular rhythm.
Lane lifted his hand and placed it over mine. “I’m sorry I startled you. I probably should’ve called or texted, but I didn’t stop to think, I just acted. Came straight here,” he said, not letting go of my fingers.
The horses picked up their pace and I couldn’t breathe. “I have to sit,” I said, my voice raspy and throaty.
Lane guided me to the couch, and I sat. Brooks followed to curl up at my feet.
“I thought you were a dream,” I said, looking at the Lane I remembered, but with a beard.
He shook his head. “I’m here.” He paced back and forth for a moment before asking, “Can I sit?”
I nodded.
He took up the space next to me, and used his fingers to turn my face toward him.
“Bess, I’m here, here because I was wrong. Wrong to lie to you about being there with you at the gym, even though it was a long time ago. And even more wrong to have just abandoned you that night. And wrong to have sent you off without an explanation when you came to Florida to save me. I’ve spent the last six months working with someone . . . a therapist,” he said, grabbing his temple, pinching his eyes shut.
He stood abruptly and my heart dropped, free-falling to the pit of my stomach.
Was he leaving?
“Christ, it makes me seem like such a pansy. A therapist,” he said, roaming the small space of my sitting area. He looked like a caged animal, waiting for someone to set him free.
Was that what this was about? Setting himself free . . . from me?
“Don’t say that,” I whispered. He shouldn’t beat himself up, even if he was saying good-bye.
Didn’t we already do that?
“No, it is. I am. But I went for you. For us. Even though I didn’t really go about anything the right way, and I don’t even know if there will be an us. I had to try,” he said, kneeling on the floor at my feet, bracing his hands on my shaking knees.
My heart moved up to my throat, lodging itself in my vocal cords, making it impossible for me to speak.
“Bess,” he said, bowing his head, staring at the floor. “You don’t deserve anything I’m about to tell you.” He took a deep breath as if gathering himself, then looked into my eyes. “My brother, Jake, was responsible for our parents’ deaths.”
I felt a shudder run straight through his body into mine.
“He’s . . . he’s not a murderer. It was an accident. He’d been playing with the car, pretending to change the tire like we’d seen our dad do. My dad used to tinker with that car all the time. Our parents carpooled to work and usually took my mom’s van, but the day after Jake played car mechanic, for some reason, they took my dad’s old one. He loved that car . . . it was a ’79 Chevy Nova he bought when he was a student.” Lane barked out a laugh, his eyes pained. “It was so beat up, and when he drove it, he looked like such a hippie behind the wheel, with his wild hair blowing in the breeze as he jammed to the Beatles.”
Redemption Lane Page 21
