Sure, how Peter treated her had hurt in the moment. Once she considered the reason behind his off-key behavior, however, the hurt subsided.
Losing a parent was something Ryleigh had been fortunate to not yet experience. It would have been unjust to hold him accountable for anything he did in direct response to that scenario.
The too loud ‘bang’ of the door being kicked shut startled Min-ji and Ryleigh out of their collective studying spell. Daniel waltzed into their dorm like he lived there, a coffee in either hand. He set the drinks on Min-ji’s desk and pecked her cheek.
Hands diving into his pockets, he stared at Ryleigh with an unsettling blankness. “Sorry to exclude you from the latte run. Didn’t know you were here.”
She draped an arm over the top of her chair. “That’s okay, Daniel. It would’ve been weird if you had brought me one.”
“Um.” He rocked on the heels of his feet but soon settled on the foot of Min-ji’s bed. His mannerisms were starting to freak Ryleigh out, as they were wholly reminiscent of the poetry confession. What next? He copied off my anthro midterm? “My mom told me about what happened.” His forehead wrinkled. “I don’t know if you knew his dad or whatever. Either way, I’m sorry to hear it.”
Removing an earbud, Min-ji glanced between them. “Sorry to hear what?”
“Peter’s dad died,” Daniel said.
Hearing someone other than Peter say that sent a splintering ache throughout her chest. The ache spread to her heart. Ryleigh would have given anything to be at his side. Alas, she was bound to her class schedule and shifts at the cafe.
“No, no, no.” Min-ji shut her textbook and moved to sit criss-cross on the floor. She squared her shoulders. “You have to go out there. You have to.”
Her heartbeat echoed in her ears. “I can’t just drop everything and go. I have work, I have school.”
“Like hell you can’t.”
“I don’t even know their address.”
“Not a valid excuse, girlie.” She extended a hand back toward Daniel. “Danny, will you pass my laptop?”
The plan was—thus far—hypothetical but nausea surfaced with a shocking authority, poised to expel her stomach’s contents. Min-ji commanded the disciplined intent of a drill sergeant with her slick, polished bun and square posture as her fingers danced across the keyboard.
“What’s the locale?”
Though Ryleigh had some reservations, she surrendered the location and supplied Janet’s name for their stalker-like search.
Min-ji flipped the computer around. “Gideon and Janet Rosenfeld, 837 Salvia Circle.” She scrolled along the page, pointing to a particular line. “There’s a home phone number listed, too.”
“What if the information’s wrong? Why should I fly halfway across the country only to end up at the wrong house?” Ryleigh fidgeted in her chair.
She was running out of excuses.
“Only one way to find out.”
A phone that was mid-dial landed in her hands and she looked up to see a mischievous grin plastered on Min-ji’s face. Stiffness straddled her jaw but she was not afforded the chance to be cross with her roommate before someone picked up.
“Hello?”
The voice coiled Ryleigh’s stomach around itself.
Peter’s voice.
Her lips felt tight, taut, as if they had been painted over with superglue. Peter said hello a few more times, that he knew someone was on the line and demanded to know why they were not speaking. Ryleigh’s lungs hoarded oxygen during the self-imposed silence.
Another moment of verbal assault passed before he hung up. She found herself able to breathe once again.
“It’s definitely the right house.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Min-ji asked, retrieving the cell phone. “What a creep.”
Says the girl who googled their address.
The phone rang with an incoming call and Min-ji tossed it back to Ryleigh, the same 831 area code illuminating its screen.
“Hello?” she said, hoping the uncertainty ruling her voice did not make her sound like a dunce.
“I had a feeling it might have been you. Especially since Peter told me he hasn’t been responding to your messages.”
The dread weighing down her bones lifted.
Janet did not sound as distressed as Ryleigh would have expected; perhaps even a hint of cheer was evident. If it had not been for the croaky quality of her voice, she might have passed for herself on a typical day.
“I’m flying out.” The statement triggered an alarm within her. She had committed to Min-ji’s heinous plan. No backing out now. “Have I...did I miss the funeral?”
A rustling came through the receiver, shortly followed by a muffled ‘go back inside’ before Janet resumed a normal volume. “The service is tomorrow afternoon, but listen honey, I don’t want you to feel pressured to come all the way out here, alright? Don’t get me wrong. Peter and I would love to have you with us—oh and by the way, he let on about what he did to you the other day and I gave him a good talking to, if you know what I mean.”
Ryleigh found herself holding back laughter despite the tears pricking her eyes. “Janet, you already feel like family to me. I’m booking a red-eye and I’ll be there.”
They said their goodbyes and she returned Min-ji’s phone for the second time. Min-ji pulled on a track jacket and slipped into her slides.
Daniel broke into a slow smile, dangling a set of keys. “Need a ride, white girl?”
Ryleigh sat silent and terrified as her Uber stopped short of the Rosenfeld residence. With Peter’s childhood home in her peripheral, the absurdity of her presence settled in and she almost told the driver to turn around and take her back to the San Jose airport, but knew that her nearly exploding heart could not be trusted for guidance. Still, she wondered how he would react to her showing up out of the blue given the circumstances—when, in a few hours, his father would be lowered six feet under and sprinkled with damp earth.
She bid the driver a quick but courteous goodbye as she bolted out of the backseat and watched the car speed down the street in a cloud of exhaust before the door had completely shut, driving away into the Californian morning with three days of her salary.
The plane ticket had smashed her savings to smithereens. She had been saving for a car, but that was the last thing on her mind. She could not put a price on standing out front of the home on Salvia Circle.
Taking a couple of deep breaths, Ryleigh prepared herself for whatever she might face inside the house, but shock held her captive as she started up the walk. She stood petrified like a doll on one of the stepping stones lining the yard in her black dress and heels, duffel bag slipping off her shoulder. Peter hunched over on the porch steps, head hung with a burning cigarette tucked between two fingers.
A searing ache assaulted her chest as she regarded how handsome he was, even in a state of mourning.
Her stomach twisted. This was not the way she wanted to find out how he looked in a suit.
Ryleigh dared to move, heels clicking against the concrete stones. His head snapped up at the noise and her pulse accelerated tenfold as their eyes locked. Launching himself from the steps, he threw the cigarette on the ground and sprinted over to her.
Everything inside of her shattered when they were close enough for her to see the salt-stained gleam of his hollow cheeks. A hand burst through her skin and squeezed her insides upon seeing Peter’s features contorted by a rarely seen fragility.
He was broken in a way she had yet to witness, and, in turn, it broke her.
Shoulders curled and spine bent, Peter imprisoned her in a desperate embrace. His tears no longer came in trickles, but heavy streams. His sobs, though muffled by Ryleigh’s waves, were audible and fractured.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he murmured.
She hated that Peter was apologizing for whatever guilt plagued him. He had nothing to be sorry for.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Ryle
igh whispered.
She rubbed his back and he crumpled against her, sending her stumbling in her heels.
He straightened to his full height. Wiping his jacket sleeve across his wet lids, he said, “I shouldn’t have told you the way I did. When I found out what happened , I—”
Ryleigh raised her pointer finger to his lips, an easy motion with the added height of her heels. “It’s okay, Peter. You don’t have to explain yourself.”
Releasing a shuddering breath, he shut his eyes. Peter tipped his head toward the sky, either gathering himself or lost in thought—she was unsure. He cocked an eyebrow. “I’m guessing my mom had something to do with this. Your sudden appearance reeks of a mother’s good intention.”
“She called me,” Ryleigh confirmed, “but actually, Min-ji and Daniel were the instigators.”
“Either way,” he paused as fresh tears clouded his gray eyes, “I’m glad you’re here.”
Following the funeral, Peter’s extended family crowded the house with their presence as well as hordes of comfort food. Neither was asked for, as Peter continuously murmured to Ryleigh, but he thanked his relatives anyway.
But it kept coming. And coming.
Stews, casseroles, lentils, all hand delivered with perfunctory condolences. ‘So sorry, Peter. Tell your mother I brought her some homemade challah. Your great grandmother’s recipe.’ Like the merit of the recipes had taken precedence over the significance of the day.
“They think she’s going to eat all of this fucking food? My mom, she’s like me. She’s upset, she doesn’t eat,” Peter said to her before turning to greet yet another family member: “Hannah!”
Ryleigh tugged on his sleeve and informed him she was going to check on his mother. She had been pulled in for so many hugs, a constant feeling of dizziness rocked her equilibrium. The woozy sensation worsened as she navigated the overcrowded residence, where people continuously identified her as ‘Peter’s girlfriend.’ On this day, new names were not expected to be memorized.
She found Janet seated around the dinner table perusing old pictures with Sharon, Gideon’s sister. Photo albums and shoeboxes of Polaroids littered the tabletop. Ryleigh yearned to join them in examining moments frozen in time from Peter’s childhood, but she had just met Sharon earlier that morning and felt a little uncomfortable joining them at the table. She remained in the archway and offered a polite smile when the women looked her way.
“Peter had a smart mouth growing up.” Sharon shook her head, her short silver hair unbudging in its frozen cast of hairspray as she thumbed through an album. “I remember Gideon constantly relaying things he had said over the phone.”
Janet exchanged a knowing look with Ryleigh and rested a hand on her sister-in-law’s forearm. “His comments have only gotten worse with age.”
“Is that true, Ryleigh?” Sharon asked, skin crinkling around her bark-colored eyes.
“I’m biased. I find his remarks endearing.”
“You two are just adorable.” She beamed. “Janet forwards me pictures of you guys every once in a while. It’s really something to see my nephew so smitten. I have to know, did your parents take well to the age difference?”
“Not at first, but they’ve come around. I think they realized that I’d love Peter with or without their permission, so they decided to make the best of it.”
It was a strange thing, discussing romance when hours before they had all attended a funeral. Perhaps they needed a reminder of the less bleak pockets of human existence.
Janet elbowed Sharon. “You’re looking at my future daughter-in-law if I’m lucky.”
Breath bottled up in her chest, Ryleigh wondered how much luck it might require for Peter to get down on one knee and do the unthinkable. That level of change in their relationship was light-years away. Pondering it at any length, however thrilling, was pointless.
She pointed a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m going to see how he’s doing.”
A peak around the corner revealed that Peter had abandoned his post in the foyer. Ryleigh ventured through the hall and muttered an ‘excuse me’ in passing to the duos and trios of relatives huddled together, deep in conversation.
Framed memories adorned the walls: birthdays, family reunions, Peter’s high school and college graduations. All three of them were present in the high school photo, whereas the one from college featured only Janet and Peter. Their arms looped around each other, carefree grins stretching their faces.
Staring at the image, her fingers twitched at her sides.
Would either of them be able to smile like that again?
The homey but sickly reverberation of Peter’s voice goaded her further along the hall. She came upon an open doorway that revealed a home office. What lay inside melted her heart. Peter sat cross-legged in a computer chair, reading from a fishing magazine to one of his cousins, who looked no older than five.
For a glorious moment their eyes met and the fleeting acknowledgment infused Ryleigh with a surge of head-to-toe electricity. He had stopped reading.
The little boy wrinkled his nose. “What happened after they caught the halibut?”
“Tell you what, Eli.” Peter bent over and handed him the magazine. “Why don’t you take it home? It won’t be missed here.”
Eli flashed a snaggletoothed grin before racing out of the room, shouting, “Mom, look what Peter gave me!”
Peter’s presence alongside her in the doorway made the space feel much too narrow, as if it would close in on them and flatten their bodies like a merciless trash compactor.
“You sure know how to improvise.”
“Yeah, well, this place isn’t exactly crawling with child-friendly reading material.”
She attempted to put some distance between them but she took less than half a step backward and her spine met the doorframe. Cupping her elbows, Ryleigh asked, “How are you, um, how are you holding up?”
“You want to talk? Let’s go outside. My family?” He gestured toward the main part of the house. “Some of the nosiest people you’ll ever meet.”
Peter held her hand as a means of guiding rather than a display of affection on the way to the sliding glass doors which led out to the deck. A woman wearing far too many layers of blush badgered him about taking family photos but Peter brushed her off with a non-committal response.
Once they were sealed off from anyone who might have overheard them, she said, “They seemed nice to me. The ones I’ve met, anyway.”
“I didn’t say they weren’t nice, they just take an unhealthy level of interest in other people’s business.”
“That’s your job description, mister.”
He did not laugh at the lame joke, moving past her to sit on the steps leading out to the yard.
An ashtray teeming with cigarette butts acted as a centerpiece on the patio table. Some were marred by lipstick stains, others were not. Hair lifted on the nape of her neck, but Ryleigh did not dare broach the subject.
She joined him on the edge of the deck, both of them staring out at the backyard. It was nothing short of miserable outside. Her black dress absorbed the sun’s rays and sweat coated the backs of her thighs.
“Well,” she hesitated, “how are you? Be honest.”
Ryleigh had never had close ties to anyone who had lost a parent, much less a boyfriend. He was her first, after all. Her first in so many ways. This just ticked another box.
“I just buried my dad. How the fuck do you think I feel?” Peter raised his hands to his forehead in prayer position, wincing, “Sorry.”
“It’s alright.” She patted his back, unsure of what to do beyond being understanding and attentive. While Ryleigh had no clue what his grieving process might look like, if it involved him hurling sarcastic rhetoric at her for the next however long, she could handle it. “Look, I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through, and I refuse to pretend to. If you want to talk about it, or if you don’t, I’m here. Always. Okay?”
She leaned f
orward to look at him.
Gaze locked on the thick grass, he produced a slow nod. Peter removed his suit jacket and draped it over the railing. He unknotted his tie, letting it hang loose around his neck.
“Honestly? This is going to sound fucked up, but I thought I’d be kind of relieved whenever he died.” His elbows melded into his knees. “He ridiculed me my entire life. Having him gone didn’t seem so bad. Now that he is gone...I was an idiot to think this would be easy to accept.” Pink splotches covered Peter’s cheeks, his eyes glassy with tears he refused to dispense. “He was a bastard, but he was my dad at the end of the day, and I loved him. I fucking loved him. I did.”
“He loved you, too, Peter.”
He cleared his throat, entwining his fingers with hers. “I don’t want to talk about it right now. Overwhelmed is a gross underestimation of how I’m feeling.”
“Done.” She rested her head against his shoulder. “What can we do to take your mind off things?”
“Hit me with some kind of news that isn’t depressing.”
A topic of discussion readied itself on the tip of her tongue but cowardice denied its immediate vocalization. Ryleigh kicked off her heels and watched them fly through the air, landing to create a depression in the lush grass. Peter regarded her with an amused smirk before doing the same.
Angling his lips to meet hers, he gave her a single kiss that left her chest blossoming with euphoria. He kept his face close to hers as he spoke. “Give me some news, woman. Need I remind you, I’ve had an exceptionally shitty day.”
“There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.” Ryleigh pulled away so she could fully gauge his reaction. The pounding of her heart was loud and unobstructed, like a knock echoing in an empty house. “Min-ji and I are transferring to Alice Lloyd next year and we’ve decided not to stay on campus over the summer.”
Concern etched itself into his features.
“So, what? You’ll be in Connecticut all summer? Sweetheart, I’m beginning to question your grasp on the English language. I said news that isn’t depressing.”
She assaulted his arm with a playful punch. “Would you shut up and let me finish? Actually, I was going to see if I could move in with you, just for the summer, of course.”
Having Rosenfeld (Rosenfeld Duet Book 2) Page 19
