by Anne Conley
The boy was the same age her son, Daniel, would have been, had he lived.
For the longest time, the pang was a constant companion, then it finally faded, only to be replaced by guilt that she didn’t think of him every time she saw a baby anymore. Then the guilt had faded, and she had finally accepted his death, only to hit her every now and then when she least expected it.
Like now.
Hurrying her steps, Miriam walked until she finally got to her apartment, only to collapse into a fit of tears. She would allow them, this once. It really had been a long time since she’d had a good cry over Daniel. Then she would put herself back together, find something to wear to work, and go in to her fake job.
Jake swallowed the bitter taste of betrayal as he drove his son home. This was the hardest part of it all. Drew took the divorce hard, but the one-on-one time Jake got to spend with him was precious, even when Drew gave Jake the sad eyes on the way home.
Knocking on the door before Drew opened it and flung himself inside, Jake puffed his chest to hide any emotion he still felt for his ex-wife and followed his son into the house. Because he couldn’t lie. There was a lot of emotion still there. She was the mother of his child.
“Hi, sweetie! Did my boys have fun?” Abby kissed Drew and hugged him hard before looking at Jake with inquisitive eyes. Jake cringed at the hope her moniker would give Drew, wondering if this would ever get easier—seeing the woman he once loved, pretending everything was okay, hanging on to tendrils of possessiveness with Jake.
“Yeah! I beat Dad at basketball, twice! It was awesome!” Drew was bouncing around the room, dribbling an invisible basketball, mimicking their moves on the court.
“Stay for dinner?” Abby pleaded with him, her eyes wide. It would have been easy to say no to that; it was so similar to the look she gave when she pled for forgiveness for sleeping with Joe.
But then Drew latched onto his hand, “Yeah, Dad. Please?”
Drew’s enormous blue eyes were shiny with longing, and against every fiber of his being screaming at him to leave, Jake nodded. “Okay.” That was much harder to say no to.
“Good. It’s ready and the table’s already set.” Abby clapped her hands together with relief.
Of course, Abby would have just expected him to do what everyone wanted him to. Why didn’t she realize that when they were married? That he would have done anything she wanted him to? He would have killed for her, all she had to do was ask.
With a heavy sigh, Jake plopped down in his old usual spot at the table and accepted the dishes passed to him. Next time, he would include dinner in his outing, so he wouldn’t have to sit through this hell with Abby, with her pretending everything was the way it once was and him pretending he was okay with that.
“What do you have going on at work, Jake?” Abby asked him. She seemed genuinely interested, so he answered honestly, for this one moment pretending she really did care.
“I’m working on a coffee table book with Leonard. It’s sort of based on the People of New York photo blog, but it’s going to be the People of Austin. Sort of telling stories through photographs. He’s got an investor who’s paying to have it published independently and some local bookstores and gift shops are already making pre-orders. It’s going to be pretty cool.”
“I’m so proud of you, sweetie.” Her voice was low, lending an intimacy the situation didn’t warrant.
“Don’t,” he growled at her. Drew’s face fell, and he stared at his plate, shoveling macaroni and cheese into his mouth.
“Don’t what?” Abbie asked innocently, and it pissed Jake off.
“Don’t pretend like we’re together. I don’t want Drew getting mixed signals here, Abbie. We are divorced. We are friends, but you don’t have the right to call me sweetie or take that tone of voice with me. You lost that right a long time ago.” When you chose Joseph over me. When you threw our marriage away for something you thought you couldn’t have with me. When we could have had it all. Together.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Chagrined, she looked over at Drew sadly, and then at her own plate, pushing food around it but not eating. “How are your parents? Did they ever figure out what Joe was doing with that money?”
He’d told her about Joe ‘borrowing’ money from his parents. He’d admit it was childish, but he couldn’t resist reminding Abby just who the man was that she’d thrown away twelve years for.
Jake shrugged. “I hired a firm to look into it, but I haven’t checked in. I need to do that tomorrow. They’ve put somebody in undercover to work for him and try to get to the bottom of it.”
“Well, I hope Margie and Stan get it back. They don’t deserve to lose their retirement savings.” She sounded forlorn, as if she’d read his message loud and clear. Jake didn’t doubt for a moment she regretted her actions, but the fact she’d done it in the first place couldn’t be overlooked. Every time he saw her, he imagined her in bed with Joe. He saw Joe’s self-satisfied face when they’d told him about it.
“No, they don’t,” he sighed in response. His parents hadn’t done anything.
“Mom, can I be excused?” Drew asked. Before anyone could answer, he was up and running to his room.
“I’ll go check on him.” Jake wiped his mouth and rose, but Abbie put a hand on his to stop him.
“I’m so sorry.” Her eyes filled with tears, and Jake noticed he didn’t even have the urge to hug her. He knew what the non-sequitur apology was for, and he resented that she still thought her apologies meant something.
“Don’t be. It’s forgiven. I’m just having a hard time forgetting. Not sure I will.” He managed to grit the words out. His counselor had told him he needed to forgive her—that things would get easier once he did. He didn’t feel it, though. He just forced himself to say the words, over and over, and hope someday they would be true.
“I don’t feel forgiven.”
He sat down and felt his breath escaping in yet another drawn out sigh. Jesus. He sounded like a put-upon housewife.
“Look, you made your mistakes. I get it. It was a mistake. But it’s not one I can easily forget. You know what an ass he is, and you slept with him anyway. He’s got some sort of charm that gets my women into his bed. He’s been doing it since high school. I just thought you were different.” He felt the anger rising again, and in order to put a stop to it, he rose. “I’m going to go check on Drew.”
Taking deep breaths to calm himself before he saw his son, Jake made his way to Drew’s room.
“Take a bath and I’ll read to you until bedtime?”
Drew was on his floor, surrounded by toys and video game paraphernalia. He was working on a model of an airplane, and it looked good. Drew looked up at Jake, his eyes wide, deep pools of blue, filled with tears.
“You won’t move back in with us, will you?” Drew’s voice was softer than usual, and Jake saw the boy trying to grow up too fast, trying to be a man before he needed to, to not cry and act grown up. But he still wanted his daddy.
Jake’s heart broke. He sat down on the floor next to Drew and pulled him up into his lap. “No, buddy. I’m not going to move back in, but it has nothing to do with you. It’s mine and Mom’s problem. We both love you too much to stay married and fight all the time. It’s really best this way. I promise.” Drew sniffled against his chest before nodding. “Go run your bath. I’ll clean up this mess so Mom doesn’t get mad, okay?”
“Okay.”
After giving herself a talking to about what she could change, what she couldn’t, and what she desperately needed to move on from, Miriam finally managed to get her head on straight. Daniel was an important part of her past, one she never would forget. She had indulged in grieving for him again today, but she needed to get beyond the grief and move on. Daniel was a painful reminder of something she couldn’t have—something she had and then lost. Daniel’s death had been the beginning of the end to a toxic relationship that was thankfully over.
In the beginning, she’d c
ried constantly—she couldn’t stop. Then Vince had gotten angry at her, so she’d only cried when she was alone. Later, she realized she had gone an entire day without tears. Even more time passed and she went an entire week. Now the tears were gone, but she still remembered. She remembered the pain of loss and of the beginning of the end with her and Vince.
It was okay for her to remember, but the tears at this point were counterproductive. She had a new life, one which didn’t include daily crying jags for her dead son. Daniel would always be a part of Miriam, but she had a job to do.
So, that evening, she tamped down the sadness until it was just a vague ghost. When Miriam got to the bar, Quinten was already there, mixing drinks and dodging Ashley’s flirts. She smiled ruefully at the picture. It was painfully obvious the woman had set her sights on the muscle-bound Adonis, but he wasn’t paying any attention. Seeming to be focused on his drink, Miriam knew he didn’t miss much. As soon as she came in, he yelled out, “Hey, Mir. Haven’t met the big boss yet, but I figured I’d just get to work. That’s what I’m here for, right?”
Gregarious was not in Quinten’s nature, but Miriam could see he was playing a part. That’s what bartenders did. He tossed her a wink and she smiled. “Is he back in his office?”
Ashley nodded, flashing her a grateful smile. “Thanks for the new blood, Miriam. This one’s a hottie!”
Unashamed, the young girl ogled Quinten mercilessly. Quinten totally ignored her while Miriam laughed. “Just don’t run him off, Ashley.”
“Yes, ma’am. Jay’s in his office.” Miriam was still laughing at the transparency at play in the bar. It was horrible for her to be laughing but as she walked back to the office, she told herself this was a part to play.
The girls here called Mr. Calahan ‘Jay,’ which Miriam didn’t see as being much shorter than Jake, but whatever. It must help with his compartmentalization. He obviously had a work persona and a non-work persona. She could deal with that, too.
When she got to the office door, it was shut. She had just raised her hand to knock, when she overheard voices.
“The fact is, guey, you still owe us thirty Gs, plus interest. You don’t pay, you die,” a low voice with a thick Mexican accent spoke. It was a chilling voice, and Miriam wasn’t sure if it was the words or the voice, but it send a sliver of dread trickling down her spine.
“I just need more time…” Was he wheedling? Miriam had never heard her boss sound like that. The many faces of Jake Calahan. Her head spun, but she mentally kept track of the conversation.
“We gave you time, Puto. The boss doesn’t like chicken-shits who ignore him.” A splat sound hit the ground where Miriam swore she heard somebody spit. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to get thirty guns plus ammo and bring them to this address. You have two weeks. Comprende?”
Silence met her ears, during which time Miriam had noted her heartbeat sped up. “Javier, you want me to cross the border with a van full of assault rifles? What if I find the cash before then?”
“Fuck cash. Get the guns or say goodbye to your family.” In spite of herself, Miriam felt her heart go out to Mr. Calahan. He was a slime ball, but it was obvious he’d just gotten mixed up with the wrong people. The little boy he’d been playing basketball with earlier flashed in her mind, bringing back a fresh wave of pain at the memory of Daniel. Nobody deserved to lose a child. Not even him.
“Wait!” Mr. Calahan’s voice rang out, desperate and needy.
That was her cue to bolt. Miriam scurried down the hall and quietly opened the door to the supply closet, heart pounding. She’d nearly gotten caught, reminiscing. Peeking out, she saw two surprisingly non-descript men of Mexican descent strut out of the office wearing slacks and pointy-toed cowboy boots. She held her breath until they turned to take the back exit.
Guns?
She waited in the supply closet for a few more minutes, trying to even out her breathing. When she thought she could act nonchalant, she went back to the office door and knocked.
“Mr. Calahan? I need to do payroll.” Her voice didn’t sound nearly as shaky and teary as it should have, knowing what was going on in her brain.
“Fuck payroll,” he snarled, and his voice had her unconsciously backing up a step. “Nobody’s getting paid this week.” The sound of a drawer opening and glass clinking together filtered through the door. So he was going to hole up in his office and get drunk. Nice. He’d fucked up. His son was in danger. And he was going to drink himself into oblivion. No wonder he was in this mess.
Back at the bar, Miriam filled Quinten in on what she’d heard, managing to stay calm. “Simon’s gonna need to hear about this. You be careful,” he whispered to her, eyes focused squarely on Miriam’s face. He reached out to touch her but apparently thought better of it, as his hand froze and dropped back to his side.
She nodded. “I will. I’ll call Simon.”
The rest of the night passed in a blur. Miriam wanted to reach out to Jake, to help somehow. But she didn’t have a clue how, or what to do. His asshole persona made it easier, so she just left him alone.
The next morning, Jake had already photographed the homeless coming out of the shelter for a new day on the streets and was pleased with the outcome. He now found himself at the park with release papers for parents to sign in case their children’s photos were used in the book. Taking pictures of the children playing, the parents in the background were his true subjects.
Circling in a wide arc, he spotted the red-headed beauty in his view finder. He zoomed in to make sure his memory served him correctly, and sure enough, she was just as gorgeous as he remembered. Miriam.
Unwilling to let her walk away again, he approached her at a jog. “Hey,” he panted as she speed walked down the pavement.
“Hey. I went in early and did payroll, so that’s done.” She seemed sad, so he offered a weak smile.
“Um… Good?” He wasn’t sure what that would matter to him, but if she was feeling productive, he’d be supportive.
Her eyes darted around him, clearly uneasy. “Yeah, well… I’ve got some stuff to do before I go into work tonight, so…” She was giving him the brush off and it hurt; she didn’t even know him. Maybe that was why she was so leery.
It occurred to him, again, that maybe she thought he was Joe. Was she the new bar manager? That would explain why she was different from his usual type, which was his initial reasoning for dismissing her as an associate of Joe’s. But Mr. Pierce would have told her they were twins, right? She would expect there to be two of them. And she would have realized when he told her his name was Jake at the grocery store that he was the other twin. Right?
As if suddenly seeing where she was, she turned to him, suspicion etched on her features. “What are you doing?” Her tone was definitely accusatory, and in a panic, he tried to allay her suspicions.
“Taking pictures.” He grinned at her, holding up his camera, and her frown deepened.
“Of children?” Planting her hands on her hips, Jake admired the flash in her eyes but regretted it was aimed at him. He was fucking this up, royally. All thoughts of the Jake/Joe thing fled, and he thought fast.
Jake held up the release forms. “With permission. I’m working on a photo book of people with stories to tell. It’s legit.”
“Children have stories?”
“Sure. Look at that one.” He pointed out a little girl who played happily in the rocks lining the ground of the play area. Dressed in a spotless jumpsuit, she contentedly made little piles while her mother watched, taking photos and cooing softly. “That one is spoiled rotten, gets whatever she wants, probably a first grandchild. She’s used to fancy toys, that’s why the rocks are so fascinating to her. She’s so sweet and innocent, but she has no idea what’s in store for a woman who’s never heard the word no. And her parents have no clue what they’re doing to her.”
The flaming redhead’s suspicion was fading into surprise. “What else do you take pictures of?”
“People of Austin. Everybody has a story, and I’d like to tell as many as I can.” He teased her, going for a little rusty flirtation. “I bet you even have a story. And it’s probably one of the best ones.”
She snorted at him. “Right. Well, I’ve got to go.” But a shadow had crossed her face, a shadow of pain—one he wished he could smooth out. Irrational, he knew. He didn’t know her, but he wanted to, anyway.
“Right.” He watched her rush off, a strange longing inside him swelling nearly to bursting.
Later, in his studio, Jake was going through the images, editing a few but overall happy with his results. He’d started the day at the homeless shelter as dozens of people left for their day on the streets. The resignation at saying goodbye to a bed was evident in most of their features, but a few held anger, and a few held hope.
Last night, he’d taken some photos of beautiful people lined up outside some of the hipper spots in Austin, waiting hopefully for the bouncer to open the velvet rope for them to go inside and change their lives. Or forget them.
And then there was the park. He’d taken pictures of the kids, sure, but the parents had fascinated him most. The hope they held for their children—wondering what sort of adult they would grow to be based on their interactions with the other children on the playground—was what he tried to capture.
With some of the pictures, he fiddled with the lightness or darkness, added an effect here or there, but for the most part, the picture told the story.
Until he got to Miriam’s picture. He’d caught her walking on the sidewalk next to the park, head down, steps full of purpose, not looking in either direction, solely focused on getting where she needed to be. Her shoes were practical—flats—and she wore slacks and a blazer, dressed professionally. Her red hair, straight today, bounced on her shoulders with each step she took.
What was her story? She seemed afraid of him for some reason, and he wondered if she was like that with all men. Some women were, especially if they were victims of abuse. Anger clenched in him, like a fist, at the thought that someone would hurt such a beautiful creature. She was kind, thoughtful, and a rarity in this world.
