by Robin Kaye
“I do not. Just because I refuse to butcher the English language by ending a sentence in a preposition does not mean I sound like Mother. Now answer the question. Because I for one don’t see how either of you could possibly be better off apart.”
“Mike will be fine without me. He’s going to have you, your father, not to mention everything he’s ever wanted. A family, a future, both of which he won’t have if he stays with me. Becca we talked about this. I can’t live like I did with Chip. I can’t stand for your father’s blatant contempt, and I won’t make Mike choose between me and the life he’s always wanted.”
“No, you’ll choose for him. That’s real nice of you. How do you know what’s best for him? He’s a grown man. He has the right to make his own decisions and his own mistakes. Who are you to take that away from him?”
“It doesn’t matter what he decides. I’m not changing my mind. I’m doing what’s best for me.”
“That’s why you’re what, lying on the bed with the dog, crying hysterically because what you’re doing is the right thing for you?”
“How did you know I was in bed with Dave crying?”
“I know you better than you know yourself. I’m telling you, you’re making a big mistake. I just hope you realize it before it’s not only too late for you, but for Mike, too.”
“I love him, Becca. I’m doing this for him as much as for myself.”
“I know that’s what you think. Do you want to know what I think?”
“What’s it matter? Nothing I say is going to stop you from telling me.”
“True. I think this is an easy way of protecting yourself.”
“Excuse me? How could this possibly be protecting myself? I’m dying here? I never thought it would hurt so much, and the way he looked at me, Bec. I’ll never forget the coldness I saw in his eyes. How is that protecting myself?”
“Because you aren’t giving him the choice of whether to work it out or not. You’re feeling all high-and-mighty, doing the right thing for him. Ha, you just don’t think he loves you enough to fight for you. You’re afraid he’s a weakling like Chip. Chip swore he wouldn’t treat the cancer if it came back. He said he’d rather die than go through that kind of hell again. It had nothing to do with you. Don’t you get it? Chip was weak. He was too weak to stand up against our parents for you, and he was too weak to fight for his own life. You’re afraid that Mike is the same way, willing to toss you aside to please his new daddy.”
“You’re wrong. I won’t allow myself to be treated badly by your father, or anyone else for that matter. Not for Mike, not for anyone, ever again. If I’m protecting myself, so be it. I won’t put myself between a man I love and his family ever again.”
Becca shook her head. Annabelle was so stubborn. She was incapable of lying, so she actually believed the bullshit she spouted. Well, fine. Let her believe it. There were two ways to deal with this, and Annabelle had no idea what Becca was capable of. She was not going to know what hit her.
“Do you want me to come up and stay with you?”
“So you can lecture me? No thanks.”
“I promise I won’t lecture.” Becca crossed her fingers behind her back.
“I’m doing what you told me to do. I’m feeling the pain so I can feel better… someday. I don’t need help to feel like shit. I’m doing that pretty well all by myself, thanks.”
“I love you.”
“I know. Would you do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Call Mike and make sure he’s okay?” Her voice cracked, and she hiccupped again into the phone before noisily blowing her nose. “I’m so worried about him. I don’t know where he went, or what he’s doing. I just need to know he’s okay. Please?”
“You want me to call my brother? That’s going to go over well.”
“I don’t know who else to ask. I don’t think he’d talk to me, and I’m afraid to call his mom. It’s late. I don’t want to upset her.”
“Fine, I guess I’m going to have to introduce myself eventually. What’s his number?”
Annabelle gave her his home number, his cell, and his pager.
“Okay, I’ll call you back.”
“Thanks, Becca.”
“Yeah… well. Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t done anything.”
She hung up the phone and looked at the numbers. Her brother. She was actually going to talk to her brother. But what the hell could she say to him?
Mike lay in a little white bed with pink sheets and comforter with one foot on the floor. The room spun like a top, and he couldn’t remember a time he felt so sick. Then his cell phone rang and gave new meaning to the word pain.
He answered to stop the ringing and the flashing pain shooting through his skull. “Flynn here.”
“You know, I thought you were different. But you’re just the same as all the rest.”
“Who is this?”
“Becca. Your sister and your ex-girlfriend’s best friend. I gotta tell you, Mike. I’m not too thrilled to have a brother who’s such an asshole.”
He sat up, and the spinning increased. He took a deep breath through his nose and did his best to avoid both spilling his guts and the contents of his stomach.
“I’m an asshole?” God, he slurred his speech. He had to do better than that. He’d speak more slowly and enunciate. “I went to propose to her, and instead of finding a candlestick holder thing… I find a life-size painting of my goddamn double.”
“You proposed?”
“No. I said I was gonna propose. I didn’t, thank God. I don’t want to marry someone who doesn’t love me. She loves some dead guy who looks like me. Fuck. Pardon me. I meant to say shit.”
“How much have you had to drink?”
“Obviously not enough.”
“You’re not driving, are you?”
“I might be dumb enough to fall for her, but I’m not stupid. Christ, give me some credit, would you?”
“Where are you?”
“In bed.”
“I know you’re not in your bed. Whose bed are you in?”
“What business is it of yours?”
“Listen to me, bud. I don’t give a shit if you are my brother. If I find out you picked up some barfly just to get your rocks off, I will come over there and kick your ass.”
“What? Look, the last thing I need is another woman. Annabelle did enough damage for a lifetime, thanks. My friends took me home. I’m sleeping in their little girl’s bed alone if you must know. Not that I’m sleeping… I’m talking to you.”
“Mike. I know how this looks, but you got it all wrong, buddy. You need to talk to Annabelle. She loves you, not Chip. Until I found out how you treated her, I thought you were better for her than Chip ever was.”
“How I treated her? She lied to me. You know she told me she was incapable of lying, and I bought it. I should have known. I’ve seen it often enough before.”
“Yeah, the only thing you’ve seen is the bottom of too many shot glasses. Do me a favor, will ya? Sober up, get over to her place, and talk to her.”
“What day is it?”
“Why?”
“Dammit, just tell me what the fuckin’ date is?”
“It’s the thirtieth, as of about ten minutes ago.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Why? What’s the big deal?”
“I have an interview today… in nine hours.”
“Well, good luck with that. I recommend coffee, aspirin, lots of water, and Listerine. Maybe you should go make yourself sick and try to get some of the alcohol out of your system the hard way.”
“Yeah, Sis. Thanks for the advice.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow in case you don’t remember talking to me.”
“Not likely.”
“Good luck with the interview. And when you’re done with that, you better get your ass back to Annabelle and talk to her. Give her a chance to explain.”
Yeah, over his dead body. Which would be a definite improvement. He w
ould have said so, but all he heard was dead air.
As soon as Becca hung up on Mike, she called Annabelle and wondered why God saw fit to give her two brothers who could be real assholes when they set their minds to it. Then, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it? This, since she was her father’s progeny too, might explain the fact that she hadn’t had a date in close to two years.
Every now and then, she reminded herself that it wasn’t as if she hadn’t been asked. She just hadn’t been asked by anyone she would consider letting into her apartment, much less her body.
Annabelle answered on the first ring.
“He’s fine. Drunk, but fine.”
“Mike is drunk? He never drinks much.”
“Well, he did tonight. He’s hurtin’. I guess friends with kids took him home, and Mike is sleeping it off in some little girl’s pink bedroom. Oh, and he remembered he has a big interview in nine hours. He’s gonna be one unhappy camper in the morning. I guarantee it.
“Oh God, I forgot about that. He was so excited about the interview. I’d never seen him so happy. If he doesn’t do well, that’ll be one more thing he can hate me for.”
“It isn’t as if you sat on him and poured alcohol down his throat. He did that all by himself. He’s a big boy. He’ll be okay.”
“How did he sound?”
“Other than drunk?”
“Yeah.”
“He sounded like he just lost the love of his life. He sounded like shit.”
“Well, thanks for calling him for me. At least I know he’s safe.”
“Yeah. Physically, he’s fine. Mentally, I’m not so sure. But then I don’t think he’s in any worse shape than you are. You’re both stubborn and miserable. You deserve each other.”
“Becca, you’re going to love him. Don’t let this affect your relationship. Please. He’s your brother.”
“I know. But it’s not like we grew up together. We’re two people that happen to have some of the same DNA.”
“And the same smile. You share a lot more than a little DNA. Why do you think I love you both so much?”
“If you love him, you need to fight for him. He thinks you’re in love with Chip. He thinks whatever you felt for Chip is automatically transferred to him because they look alike. He said you’re like all the rest. Tell me, does he make a habit of dating all of Chip’s exes?”
“No. I have no idea what he means, but he’s drunk. He’s not supposed to make sense.”
“Either that, or he makes perfect sense, and you just don’t understand. In any case, it doesn’t matter. He sounds as if he’s been hurt before by other people’s lies.”
“I didn’t lie to him.”
“You withheld information. To him, it’s the same thing. Sorry, tootsie pop.”
“Whose side are you on, anyway?”
“Mine. I want to see my best friend and my new brother happy together. Now, try to get some sleep. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
“Okay, thanks for checking on Mike.”
“No problem. And Annabelle, he’s hurt, he’s angry, but he still loves you. Keep that in mind.”
“Night, Bec.”
“Night.”
Becca hung up the phone and thought about calling Annabelle back to tell her Mike had planned to propose. No, maybe they’d work things out. If not, she could always use the information later. Neither of them was going to get over this love of theirs any time soon. They were going to be miserable apart for a good long time.
Becca crawled into her big, empty bed and thought about how nice it would be to have someone to curl up with, but after watching Mike and Annabelle’s disaster unfold, Becca couldn’t help but think that her battery-operated boyfriend might not be such a bad substitute.
“Wake up, Mikey.”
Mike saw Annabelle’s mouth moving, but the voice that came out was Vinny’s, which was enough to scare the crap of him. Or in his case, wake him out of an alcohol-induced sleep. He opened his eyes to find Vinny standing over him.
“What?”
“Eh? Don’t you got that big interview today? I thought I should, you know, wake you in case it’s early. It’s gonna take you a few hours to get your ass down there, and you still got to go home and change.”
“What time is it?”
“Four thirty.”
“Oh, Christ, you’re right. Thanks. I have to leave by six to get down there by nine during rush hour.”
“Put your pants on, and I’ll drive you to your car.”
Mike sat up, and his head felt as if he’d had massive brain injury compliments of Jack Daniel’s.
What had he been thinking getting shit-faced the night before the biggest interview of his career? Oh right, he thought that his life was over. The memory of what happened blindsided him again, and the pain of it just about knocked the wind out of him.
“You wanna tell me what happened now that you’re relatively sober?”
“No.”
“I take it the proposal didn’t go well?”
“There was no proposal. It’s over.”
“Hold on there, Mikey. One minute you’re all, ‘I love her, Vin. I’m gonna marry her.’ And now you’re sayin’ ‘it’s over’ and you’re not gonna tell me what the fuck happened?”
“Why? So you and Nick can say I told you so? I don’t think so. I’ve had my fill of humiliation for one lifetime.”
Mike gave up searching for his socks—it hurt too much. He found his shoes, slipped them on, and turned to Vinny. The guy acted as if Mike had just cold-cocked him.
“I don’t make a habit of kickin’ guys when they’re down. I’m sorry it didn’t work out. If you, ya know, change your mind and wanna talk about it, I ain’t gonna be the one sayin’ I told ya so. I will tell you a man don’t fall out of love over a bottle of Jack, though. I know that for a fact. And, if you love her as much as you said you did, you won’t let nothin’ stop you from gettin’ her back.”
“This isn’t nothing. This is something so big, I don’t see a way around it.” His eyes burned, either because he was about to cry or they were too bloodshot. Either way, he needed to change the subject. “I’m sorry. I can’t talk about this now. I have to get down to that interview and see if I can move the hell away from New York. Being a hundred miles away from her won’t be far enough, but it beats Coney Island.”
Vinny grabbed him and pulled him into a guy hug. That did it. He lost the battle against tears. Shit. Vinny let him go and was nice enough to pretend not to notice he was crying like an idiot.
They drove to the restaurant in silence. Vinny gave him back the keys to Nick’s car and didn’t mention Annabelle again. Not that the lack of conversation kept him from thinking of her; remembering how she drove, how she smelled, how she tasted, and finally how she looked while she shattered his heart. Damn, he still worried about her, then he reminded himself that she wasn’t in love with him. She was in love with a dead guy who looked like him. Unfortunately, it didn’t make him love her any less. He didn’t even know who he could call to check on her without her finding out. God, he was a dumb shit. A dumb shit who was still in love with his dead brother’s girl.
Mike drove back to his sorry excuse for an apartment and realized he hadn’t been there much in the last month. When he hadn’t spent the night at Annabelle’s, he’d slept at the hospital, or not at all. His place smelled stuffy, which didn’t help his stomach any. He opened the windows, grabbed a fresh towel, and jumped into a cold shower—and it wasn’t cold by choice. He really needed to get the hell out of his old apartment, his old neighborhood, and his old life.
Chapter 17
MIKE MADE THE TWO-HOUR DRIVE FROM CONEY ISLAND to Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania, at the crack of dawn with only his iPod and two venti Starbucks to keep him company. The coffee worked its magic, and the Visine he bought at the convenience store where he stopped to fill up the gas tank did its job. Now all he had to do was get some food in his stomach. Luckily, he arrived early enoug
h and hunted down a diner along the main drag. He hadn’t eaten in… damn, since lunch the day before when he’d grabbed a couple of street vendor hot dogs that he’d been burping up ever since. Everything ingested after that had been liquid. He parked, got out of the car, and stretched. His head ached, his body ached, but most of all his heart ached. God, he’d never thought he could hurt so badly.
He’d driven past Eastern Heart Specialists three blocks down. The four-story building was impressive. The only question in his mind was the proximity to his biological father. If Becca knew he existed, it wouldn’t be long until his father knew, and the last thing Mike wanted was to be rubbing shoulders with the old man.
After getting a copy of the Philadelphia Inquirer out of a machine outside the diner, Mike took a seat at the counter and checked out the local real estate listings while he ate. He wouldn’t be able to afford a house for a few years. Main Line prices were outrageous. But, it wasn’t as if he had to worry about having a wife and family any time in the next century. He had a feeling it would be at least that long before he could get Annabelle out of his mind.
After breakfast, Mike went to his interview. In the parking lot, he straightened his tie in the car’s reflection, donned his suit jacket, and grabbed his briefcase. He didn’t look like he spent his evening getting his heart stomped on and then shit-faced, he just felt as if he had.
He entered the office and introduced himself to the receptionist. She stared at him openmouthed.
“Is there something the matter?”
She quickly shut her mouth and shook her head. “No. Nothing, Doctor… ”
“Flynn. Mike Flynn. I have an appointment with Dr. Connor.”
“Yes. If you’ll just have a seat. I’ll tell her you’re here.”
“Thank you.” Mike took a seat and checked his cell phone to make sure it was on vibrate. The last thing he wanted was to get a call in the middle of an interview. A woman who walked with an air of authority stepped out of the elevator. “Dr. Flynn?”
Mike stood. “Yes.”
“Hello.” She shook his hand. “I’m Shirley Payne, Dr. Connor’s assistant. I’ll take you up. If you’ll come with me?”
