The Picture

by Stephanie Taylor

  The idea of Nicholas as a father—as Emily's father—was almost impossible to wrap my head around. He didn't fit the picture. The whole time I cared for Emily, he came around only a handful of times, yet the pain was so real in his voice when he spoke of her. I couldn't believe it was an act. He had no reason to lie to me on the roof, but I wondered if he had been looking for an outlet and wanted me to feel sorry for him enough to comfort him in a more explicit physical fashion. And yet, I still couldn't peg that as being the case.

  Since I worked nights and was never around when he came for a visit, I never saw his interaction with Emily to see what kind of father he was. I was only privy to what Emily told me, and she possessed an amazing ability to forgive those who offended her. Nicholas could have done anything and still come out smelling like a rose. All I knew was Emily worshiped Nicholas.

  But the pain shadowed in his eyes had been unmistakable. I could never believe he was a bad father. Misguided, perhaps, but not bad. A bad father couldn't write a song like the one he wrote for Emily. If Nicholas told the truth the night I met him, he was trying to find his way through a life he no longer wanted. A few weeks back I read about a rumored break up with his band, but I chalked it up to simple media boredom. I hoped for Nicholas's sake he could figure out his life and would find happiness. He seemed nice enough, but I just didn't know what to believe about him and what not to believe, no matter how long I thought about it.

  Clearing my head, I continued to work through Emily's belongings, one item at a time. When I saw it was nearly dinnertime, I pushed myself up with a heartfelt sigh and stretched my legs. As I did so, my eyes fell to her bed again. When I looked closely enough, I could almost make out the round imprint on the pillow where her head once laid. Her favorite pillow, the equivalent of a blanket or stuffed animal for some kids, still lay on the left side of her bed, probably where I tucked it next to her during her final hours. I slowly walked over to it, picked it up, and brought it to my nose.

  It was then I released the pent-up tears. Inhaling her scent, still permeating the pillow, made my heart ache. It was a physical pain that I had hoped to never feel again. But feel it I was. I tried to consider it a good thing that I was capable of feeling. After all, I could have wound up like Jessica.

  I buried my face in the pillow and cried, much like I had buried my face in Emily's soft embrace when I told her my story. This pain was unlike any other. It drained me, physically and mentally, to cry so hard. When I was done, I felt nauseous. I fingered the edges of the pillow, looking at the bird embroidered on the front of it. I studied its wings and thought of how Emily threw her arms out when she was swinging. I decided that I would ask Jessica if I could take it with me. My life was so empty, as it had been for many years, and having a piece of her would fill a void.

  “How's it goin'?” I heard Jessica ask from the doorway.

  I turned to see her holding a beer and a cigarette in one hand and nodded, not trusting my voice. Thankfully, she didn't seem to notice my tears.

  “This the pile I need to keep?” She waved in the general direction of the things I kept out.

  Again, I nodded. I noticed how carefully she averted her eyes to keep from looking at Emily's special keepsakes.

  Jessica shifted her weight and puffed her cigarette. “Thanks,” she said, avoiding looking at me now as if she was embarrassed. Her eyes were glazed and I knew then she was wasted.

  “You're welcome,” I croaked. I motioned to the beer in her hand. “How many of those have you had, Jessica?”

  A resounding Ha! came from her throat and her eyes rolled. “Who's counting?”

  I pursed my lips and tried to keep from saying anything, but I just couldn't let it go. “You trying to kill yourself, too? Do you think killing yourself will help you see her again sooner?”

  She smiled sarcastically at me and took a wobbly step forward, her red eyes squinting in my direction. “That girl of mine went straight to Heaven. I'm headed for Hell in a hand basket, honey.”

  At least we could agree on one thing.

  Jessica left Emily's room again and went toward her own bedroom. I didn't do anything but stand there, wondering how on earth I could help her, yet knowing there wasn't much I could do for someone so far gone. She was an alcoholic and no telling what else she put into her system. I figured, based on the deterioration of her body and the pallid color of her skin, it was only a matter of time before cirrhosis kicked in. You just couldn't live on such little food and so much alcohol.

  I propped Emily's pillow against my purse. As I stood once more, I spotted a picture on top of the bookcase. I hadn't paid attention to it before, but I grabbed it now and gazed down into mine and Emily's smiling faces, her bald head reflecting the camera flash. It was the only picture, to my knowledge, left of her in the whole house. The other one I’d given to Nicholas. As Emily always said, her bald head upset Jessica, so she stopped taking pictures of her, stopped chronicling her life as if she was already dead. That's why I took this picture of the two of us together. I wanted her to know that I wasn't ashamed of her, and her bald head was just another part of her to love. I tucked the picture away in my purse just as the doorbell rang.

  I looked over my shoulder, expecting to see Jessica walking to answer it. After the second chime, I walked to Jessica's bedroom doorway only to see her sprawled on the bed, passed out almost face down on the bed. The cigarette was still in her hand, burning closely to her fingertips. I quickly snuffed it in the full ashtray and closed the door behind me on my way to answer the door. I hoped it was a pizza delivery guy or something that Jessica ordered for us. I was starved.

  A third chime sounded just as I tugged the door open.

  “Hold your horses!” I called but my mouth snapped shut the second I saw who it was.

  Nicholas Cassidy stood in the doorway, looking just as shocked as I felt.

  Chapter 5

  Nicholas and I stared at each other. That telltale rush of adrenaline down my spine told me I went pale. He recovered enough to speak first.

  “What are you doing here?” He raised one hand and ran his fingers through his dark hair, leaving a pleasing tousled look.

  I pulled myself back into professional mode and tried to gauge his mood. We hadn't spoken since the morning after the party, and I was sure there was plenty he wanted to say to me. But he kept his eyes carefully blank as he waited, anticipating my answer.

  The coldness of the outside air finally snapped me out of my reverie, and I opened the door wider, shivering. “Come in,” I said quietly. “Jessica asked me to go through some of Emily's things for her.”

  He squinted at me through pain-filled eyes. I closed the door slowly, taking the opportunity to haul in a deep breath. When I finally faced him, he still studied me. That fact made me nervous, but whatever he needed to say to me, I would listen. I knew more than anyone how therapeutic clearing the air could be. I didn't owe him much, but I did owe it to him to let him say his peace.

  “Where is Jessica?” He tucked his fingertips in the pocket of his jeans.

  I hooked my thumb over my shoulder. “Passed out on her bed, drunk as ever.”

  His eyes rolled in an insufferable expression. “Guess I better go check on her.”

  “I already did when you rang the door bell. She was about thirty seconds away from burning down the house with a cigarette in her hand when I found her.”

  “Geez,” he mumbled and ran his fingers through his hair again.

  “She needs help, Nicholas.” It suddenly occurred to me that despite her folly, he'd once had a relationship with her. Did her state of mind bother him? Did he still love her?

  His eyes met mine again and he finally nodded, looking sad. “I know. But I guess you can never stop hoping, no matter how bad the situation is that she’ll want to change.”

  I could only nod my agreement. “I know this is hard on you.”

  He huffed. “Well, Jessica and I haven't talked much over the years. It's hard to
see her like this, yeah. When we were together before, she was a different person. She liked to drink a lot, but I never dreamed it would turn into this.” He waved his hand toward her bedroom and shook his head again, disgust etched in the grim set of his mouth.

  “Guilt has a way of doing that to a person.” I tried to focus on Jessica instead of the fact that he acknowledged not talking to her much, despite having had a child with her. It made me doubt him even more.

  “Well, I was just finishing up Emily's room. I'll grab my things and be out of your way.” I still didn't know why he was here and didn't ask. It was none of my business. I hurried to rush past him but his gentle grasp on my arm stopped me.

  When he didn't let go, I looked up at him. His eyes were full of sorrow. His thumb rubbed against my skin back and forth until I tugged it for him to let go. I didn't want his touch. I couldn't want his touch. And I didn't deserve not to be yelled at after lying to him.

  “Thank you.” He swallowed. “For everything you did for Emily and for going above your call of duty to help Jessica, too.”

  He finally let go and took a step back, tucking his hands in his jean pockets again. “I haven't done anything I didn't want to do.” Ok, maybe I hadn't wanted to go through Emily's things, but I was glad I had. I might never have recovered the picture of the two of us otherwise.

  “Thank you,” he said again. With a nod of his head, he walked toward Jessica's room. I followed his movement, the wide expanse of his shoulders moving languidly with each step. His hips moved with grace, almost like a cowboy's long stride, but those jeans hugging his thighs certainly weren't cowboy. They were nothing but rock and roll.

  I forced myself out of my reverie and went back to Emily's room to gather my things. My eyes caught the bag Jessica said was Nicholas's and I grabbed it, too. It was then I heard the low murmurs of voices and knew Nicholas had managed to wake Jessica. The sound of her laughter met my ears and while I was shocked to hear it, I knew Nicholas was capable of charming any kind woman, drunk or sober, shy or aggressive.

  I hurried out of the room with my things and the bag for Nicholas, turning the light off with a quick backward glance. Her room was empty now. I alone had erased Emily's life and the sorrow ate at my last nerve. But I hadn't touched her bed. That was something not even I, someone who dealt with death on a daily basis, could do. The bed was her haven, a place she could rest and feel safe. I couldn't be the one to take that away.

  I placed the bag next to the door for Nicholas to see and closed the front door softly behind me. Seeing Nicholas again caught me off guard, and I didn't like to feel this way...so out of control and emotional. I felt something during my time with him, something profound and unexplainable that I didn't want to think about again. My life wasn't about feelings or makeshift relationships in a hotel room, it was about getting through each day at a time with as little complication as necessary. I wasn't relationship material that much I knew, and it was clear from the beginning Nicholas wasn't looking for forever. Sure, he might have dazzled me and made me think crazy things about forever, love and commitment, but when all the layers were chipped away to nothing but bare bones, those things were better left for someone other than me. Once, many years ago, I tried to do forever and it ended less than three years later with the discovery of another woman sleeping on my side of the bed.

  Working third shift definitely had its disadvantages.

  I was over him now. Completely. I didn't think about him at all, in fact, except for times like this when I couldn't help compare situations. I was a quick study and wouldn't make the same mistake twice. I never wanted to be in that kind of relationship again. I was over the man, but not the circumstance. Trusting in someone like that again would no doubt be the end of me. When I loved, I loved deeply. It was my fault I gave one man that kind of power, but I couldn't undo it now.

  As I sat inside my car, I noticed for the first time that it was snowing. Not much, more of a flurry, but it reminded me of the coming storm. I still had to run by the store for a few canned goods in case the power went out or I wasn't able to leave.

  Turning the engine, it made a wheezing sound and died. When I twisted the key again, it just clicked at me like a dying porpoise. My heart sank and I put my head in my hands. The cold wasn't even bothering me yet with so much adrenaline flowing, although I did realize it was well below freezing. My thoughts were only on getting as much distance as I could from Nicholas and Emily.

  So the knock on my window scared ten years off my life. I yelped and saw Nicholas's hand pressed against the glass, his face looming near it so he could see in. Since it was dark and there were no streetlights in the neighborhood, I knew he couldn't see me.

  “Everything ok?” he called.

  I nodded but realized he couldn't see it. “Yes.” Just peachy fine. Go away and leave me alone.

  “Car trouble?”

  Wasn't he one to point out the obvious? “Yes.”

  This time he opened the door and let even colder air spill in. “Come on.” He took my hand without waiting for permission. “I've got a rental. I'll drop you off at your house.”

  I didn't want his touch, not even through the black leather gloves that were so warm as they encased my hand. But I didn't want him to let go, either. I grabbed my purse and keys with my free hand and allowed Nicholas to lead me to his car. He opened the door for me, light spilling on the interior. I noted the black leather interior and the suave silver of the car, but I couldn't tell much more about it in the darkness.

  I sat down and he closed the door firmly behind me. I held on to my purse with both hands, trying to calm my marathon heart.

  When he got in and cranked up the engine, a blast of warm air hit me in the face and I closed my eyes, realizing for the first time how cold I was. I held my hands up to the vent and sighed.

  “I see you got your bag,” I said, trying not to think too much. When Nicholas and I were together before, conversation came easy. I hoped that was still the case, but feared it wouldn't be.

  “Yeah, just a few things of Emily's I wanted to keep.”

  I didn't invite any further conversation, and I kept my mouth shut over my curiosity of what he could possibly want.

  “I heard on the radio coming over the storm is supposed to be pretty bad. Do you need to stop by and get any firewood or anything?”

  I made a face, comfortable that he couldn’t see me in the dark. Wouldn't it be my luck he was so thoughtful? “Um, I could use a few canned goods. If you could just drop by a convenience store, I won't take up much of your time.”

  “I don't have anything going on right now. I don't mind. Which way am I going?” he asked as he backed out of the driveway.

  “North,” I replied. “There's a Chevron up the road a little bit.”

  We drove in silence. I refused to stare, but I couldn't help watching him from the corner of my eye. He handled the wheel of the car with skill and negotiated the streets with ease, while casually leaning his elbow against the driver side door. His other hand was draped over the steering wheel and his legs were spread wide. And as the car heated up to near sweltering temperatures, the scent of pine assailed me and had me thinking about our time together in Atlanta.

  He pulled into the Chevron and I ran in, taking the last three cans of soup they had, along with a loaf of bread, a gallon of milk and a twelve-pack of bottled water. Nicholas saw me struggling with my purchases and was out of the car in a flash, taking some of the load and putting it in the back seat. Again, he opened the door for me.

  His kindness killed my resolve to keep my distance. I was almost ready for him to yell at me for lying to him. Why wasn't he mentioning it? One thing was for sure, I certainly wasn't bringing it up.

  I quietly gave him directions to my apartment complex. By then, the snow was falling so hard we could barely see anything. We slid on the road and Nicholas maneuvered the car to a sideways stop just before we hit the ditch. Both of us were breathing heavy and when I glanced at
him, he had the nerve to chuckle.

  “Well, that was interesting.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “You okay?”

  I took a moment to make sure everything was still intact. My shoulder burned where the seatbelt caught but otherwise I felt fine and said so. I was surprised when he grabbed my hand and squeezed until I met his kind stare.

  “I'll try to be a little more careful,” he promised as he released me and turned the car back onto the road.

  We weren't far from my apartment and soon enough we pulled into a parking space. I expected this to be the moment he turned to me, all serious, wanting to talk about the picture. But he surprised me yet again by cutting the engine, getting out of the car, and grabbing my pack of bottled water from the back seat. I already had my milk and plastic bag full of soup.

  “I'm in 14A,” I said and closed the door of his rental with my hip, shaking my hair out of my face so I could see as good as I could past the fat snowflakes. As I walked to my door, I mentally calculated if I had left any underwear lying out or dirty dishes in the sink. I didn't think so, but I wasn't expecting company so I hadn't paid attention.

  I turned the key in my door and flipped on the light. Doing a quick survey, I saw things were fairly tidy. I quickly put the milk in the refrigerator and the soup in my cabinet and turned to Nicholas to unload the water. He was already opening it and pulling out the bottles. I stood and watched him, seemingly at ease in a home he just walked into. I figured it was from all the women he spent the night with over the years.

  Clearing my throat, I said, “Thank you. You didn't have to do that.” I didn't have the heart to tell him I usually drank them at room temperature. He winked at me over his shoulder when he squatted and put the last of them inside.

  He stood, suddenly looking at me so intently that I walked away and turned on the TV. I couldn’t stand to see him looking that way because I wanted it to mean something else. But it couldn’t. It wasn't an invitation for him to stay but rather a way for me to avoid that stare. I didn't sit down, either. I just stood awkwardly in the room, waiting for him to leave. I figured he would take that as an invitation, too.