by KB Winters
I left Emma’s and wandered the neighborhood aimlessly. My mind was roaring too loudly for sleep. There weren’t words I could speak that would erase the past. I’d left Emma behind. Of course, at the time that wasn’t my intention. In fact, I’d thought I was helping her. I couldn’t bear the thought of her uprooting her whole life, leaving her family and winding up alone on a military base, waiting for news after every single mission. It wasn’t any kind of life. I wanted more for her. She deserved better than sitting alone, chewing her nails to the quick, waiting for me to come home. In my attempt to spare her, I’d somehow doomed her instead.
All these years I’d spent angry and bitter over her moving on so quickly now seemed petty and jealous. I’d gone ballistic when I got the letter telling me that she was married to Tommy. How fucked up was I? I’d left, but I didn’t want her to have her own life? It didn’t matter. Anger fed into rage and for a few months I wouldn’t say a word about it to anyone. All of my brothers in arms knew I was fucked up over something, but they couldn’t get me to fess up. I felt stupid for letting some woman get me all tangled and unfocused. Eventually I moved on, piece by piece. I told myself that she had every right to move on. I went through a series of one-night stands, fucking a new woman every time I went off base. It was empty and meaningless, but took the sting away ever so slightly.
By the time I’d made my last trip back to Brighton, I was more or less at peace with the past. I’d expected to come home and find Emma and Tommy with their young son, the picture of bliss, and in some twisted way, I was actually looking forward to it. I figured it would take away that last thorn, and I could fully heal.
Instead, Emma had been out of town for the weekend. I always wondered if it was deliberate. Her not being here for the one weekend I was home. And Tommy’d been too busy running the diner to say much of anything. But what little he did say made it seem as though I was right. They were a solid match and happy together. Unfortunately, that hadn’t been the missing link. I went back to the desert more confused than ever. Instead of being happy for Emma, I’d lay awake wondering what might have been. What our life would look like if I’d been the one to put a ring on her finger and a baby in her belly.
Now, back at home, seeing the full span of the wreckage, I was screwed up again. This time riddled with guilt and rage at a man who’d been one of my closest friends. It was even worse that he was dead. I couldn’t throttle him and demand answers. All I was left with were regrets. A massive, ever-growing pile of them.
Sinking deeper and deeper into misery, I veered back around the block and went to the pub. I needed relief. A one-night stand with some woman who looked nothing like Emma. It had always worked in the past. The pub had been busier than usual in the week following Jimmy’s murder. Instead of staying away, tainted by the tragedy, people came out in droves. I figured it was the neighborhood’s way of showing support and solidarity. Considering the ugly truth I’d learned about Paddy’s financial situation, if he or Frankie were going to take back the bar, I was grateful.
Music pulsed out into the street as I approached the front entrance. A trio of men in dark coats reached the door first and barged inside, not bothering to hold the door.
“Fuckers,” I grumbled, yanking it open after it slammed in my face.
Nearly twenty people sat inside at the bar and the few tables on the outskirts of the makeshift dance floor. The pool table was in use by a rowdy looking group of college-aged kids.
I started forward, ready to swoop in on one of the few empty bar stools when I spotted Tara, Jimmy’s fiancée, at the far end of the bar. She was wearing a tank top cut low enough her black lace bra was peeking out and she had a crowd of men hanging on her every word as she poured drinks. Had she moved back into the apartment upstairs? And what—if anything—did she know about the hookers who lived, or at least worked, out of the adjacent apartments?
With nothing to lose, I started for her but stopped short when the men who’d entered right before me headed her way. I side-stepped the flow of customers preparing to leave and hugged the wall beside the L-shaped section of the bar. Frankie, Paddy’s son was working the opposite end of the bar and perked up at the sight of the trio headed toward Tara. Did he know them? Did they know Tara? Or were they just barreling toward her to get their rocks off watching her tits bounce as she mixed drinks.
I hung back and took a seat closer to Frankie. He glanced over and spotted me with a surprised look. He finished with his customer and came over to take my order. “Didn’t expect to see you in here tonight. How ya doin’?”
I jerked my chin toward Tara. She’d spotted the trio of newcomers and while it was a quick flicker, her smile had faltered for a moment at the sight of them. Something was definitely going on. “She moved back upstairs?”
Frankie shook his head. “Not that I know of. To be honest, I didn’t figure she’d come back at all. Figured since Jimmy was gone she’d move on. But she showed up tonight and asked for a shift. I needed the help.”
I nodded, still fixated on her and her gaggle of men. “Who are those three? The ones in the dark coats?”
Frankie glanced down the bar and shrugged. “I don’t know. Regulars, maybe? I haven’t been here much, as you know. It’ll take me a few to get used to it again.”
“You happy to be back? After all, this used to be your place.” I hadn’t managed to get a read on how Jimmy and Frankie were getting along prior to Jimmy’s death. Frankie was likely still pissed over losing his bar, but now that Jimmy was gone he was suppressing it out of respect. We were still family after all.
Frankie hitched a shoulder and went to pull a pint for me. “It pays better than what I was doing at the mill. Especially with as busy as it’s been. I still need to sort out some new suppliers since—” He stopped and glanced around. “Well, you know.”
“Let me know if you need help with that before I leave town.” I’d told Frankie about the men at O’Doul’s and he’d been just as pissed as I was and vowed he wouldn’t do any type of business with them.
He pushed a pint of dark ale at me and then went off to help the next group of customers. I picked up the drink and sipped some off the top. Tara had worked her way to the corner where the three men had found seats and was leaning in to talk to them. A smile remained on her lips but her jaw was tensed, like she was clenching down on her back teeth. Every few words, her eyes would flit around the room and then back to the men she was speaking with. After a few minutes, they dropped a handful of bills on the bar, though they hadn’t touched the drinks she’d served them, and then they sauntered out of the pub. Tara, visibly rattled, scooped up the cash, tucked it into the back pocket of her booty shorts and then hurried to dump out the drinks they’d left behind.
I took my drink to the other end of the bar and plopped down in her section. She turned and jolted at the sight of me. “Dylan,” she said breathlessly, one hand at her throat.
“Everything okay over here?” I asked her, sipping lazily at my beer.
She nodded but swallowed hard.
“I didn’t know you were back in town. Maybe we should get to know each other a little better. After all, you were arguably the person who spent the most time with Jimmy. As you probably know, I hadn’t seen him in a few years. I’d like the chance to catch up with what he was into. Reminisce, if you will.”
Tara nodded a little too hard. “Sure, yeah. I don’t know how much I could tell you that you don’t already know.”
I glanced at the front door. “Who were those guys who just left? Friends of yours? Jimmy’s?”
Tara frowned. “No. I don’t know them.”
“Really?” I arched a brow. “They seemed like they knew you.”
She sighed. “They’re just run of the mill perverts. They came in here and had some unfriendly things to say about the way I look. I told them they could take their shit elsewhere.”
I nodded slowly. There wasn’t a word of truth in what she’d said, but I wasn’t going to
call her out in front of everyone. I preferred to find out the truth on my own, especially now that I knew I couldn’t trust her.
Tara excused herself and kept her distance, chatting it up with other customers while I finished my beer. When I was finished, I slid some cash over the bar and pushed up from the stool. I waved goodbye to Frankie and then went back out into the bitter cold night. I’d parked my pops’ car around the back, so I pulled it around to a parking spot across the street from the pub and waited. Too cold to stand out here alone. Another hour and the pub would close up, and I could follow Tara to see where she might go. Something wasn’t right, and I had a feeling it started with her. Or at the very least, she knew way more than what she was willing to say.
I kept the engine idling to stay warm but left the lights off. When Tara exited the building, she didn’t so much as glance my way. She hurried down the block, getting swallowed up by the shadows between the streetlights before she hopped into a car. I waited until she was a few blocks ahead before slipping out into the street and pursuing her. I kept my distance but followed her every move, only stopping when she reached her destination. She parked, then I watched with an open mouth as she slipped out of her car and walked right through the front doors of O’Doul’s.
Chapter Eighteen
Emma
When I found out I was pregnant with little Tommy, I gave up smoking. Hadn’t touched a cigarette in six and a half years. But around ten o’clock the morning after my tirade against Dylan, I left the diner in Kate’s hands and skulked down to the corner store to pick up a pack. The clerk, Eddie, gave me a strange look when I asked for a pack of Red’s but didn’t say anything as he handed them over and took my money. My head pounded with every step I took, as though my feet were jackhammers driving into the pavement. When I reached the block before the diner, I veered down the alley between the barbershop and the little market and sat on the curb, just tucked out of the way of passersby.
The first drag was heaven. I knew it was a temporary fix. I’d smoke a few and throw the rest in the trash. But the three I’d allow myself would be savored. The headache started to ebb away as the pain pills I’d swallowed with my first cup of coffee finally started to kick in. But as the thumping pain cleared, the replay of the night before started up and I wished I’d never gotten out of bed.
It was bad enough that Dylan had caught me drunk and stuttering. But the things I’d said, the cruel words I’d hurled at him.
I shook my head as they cycled through my mind on repeat.
How on earth was I ever going to face him again?
Then there was the last thing he’d said to me; that was an entirely different problem. I wasn’t going to allow myself to dwell on those words. Nothing good would come from it. Not for him and certainly not for me. It would be better to shove them into a box, slap some tape over the top, and stuff it far, far to the back of my mind. I’d unpack it eventually. Things like that couldn’t stay buried forever, but I could at least put it off until there were thousands of miles between us again.
Unfortunately, all my plans flew right out the fuckin’ window when Dylan himself strolled by the barbershop. I ducked but the flicker of movement caught his eye, and he stopped in his tracks. In slow motion, he pivoted to face me and slipped his hands into his pockets. “Got an extra one?”
I sighed and held up the pack.
He slumped onto the curb beside me, leaving barely an inch between us. He pulled out a cigarette and then produced a lighter from his jacket pocket.
“You smoke?”
He shrugged. “Now and again. I didn’t realize you did.”
“I don’t.” I took another puff.
“Right.” Dylan lit his cigarette and slid the lighter back into its place. “You know anything about O’Doul’s?”
Okay, so apparently, we weren’t going to talk about the night before. I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or upset.
“O’Doul’s the pub? On Fourth?”
Dylan nodded and took another long drag.
I shrugged. “Nothing specific. Why?”
“It’s probably nothing.” He fell silent.
I scoffed, “You’re going to have to give me a little more to go on if you want me to help.”
“Not asking for help.”
Frustration percolated to the surface. The last thing I wanted—or needed—was another argument, but his witty answers and vague questions were starting to bug the shit out of me. It was like I had to constantly remind him that I lost someone the night Jimmy died, too.
My cell phone rang. I shoved the cork back into my argument and dug the phone from my purse. “Shit,” I growled at the number on the screen. “It’s Tommy’s school.”
Dylan waited while I took the call. My heart sank as the teacher’s aide on the other end informed me that Tommy had been involved in a fight and was being dismissed for the day. I answered her in one-syllable responses and then promised I would be over as soon as possible to pick him up.
“Fuck,” I said as soon as the line went dead.
“What’s up?”
I glanced at Dylan out of the corner of my eye. “Nothing.”
He frowned. “Emma.”
“Tommy got into a fight. I have to go get him from the school and schedule some kind of teacher conference.” I dropped what was left of my cigarette to the ground and crushed it with the toe of my shoe. “Kate’s gonna kill me. She didn’t even want me to leave for ten minutes to get a breather.” I dragged my hands through my hair and wished I had a breath mint. Tommy would no doubt catch the smell of smoke. I didn’t want him to know. I had to hold it together for him, to go on like life was normal, at least until it was again.
“You want me to go get him?”
I twisted to face Dylan. “What?”
“I’ll go pick him up and bring him to the diner.” He shoved up to his feet, dropped his cigarette, and stepped on it. “Call the school and tell them you can’t get away and that I’m coming instead. I’ll show ID. Whatever they need.”
I stared up at him, mentally weighing out my options. I had no idea why he was offering, but in some way, it was the only way I could keep all the balls in the air. “Are you sure?”
“I’m not doing anything today. It’s fine. Call the school.”
I sighed and gave him a nod. “Thank you.”
He turned and left the alley, and I called the school to give them the information. I’d have to go in Friday afternoon to meet with the teacher, but at least the immediate issue was solved. I hung up and debated another cigarette but knew that I’d already been gone way too long. With another heavy sigh, I pushed up from the stoop and headed back to the diner.
***
“Why do you keep looking at the clock every other minute?” Kate asked me when we were both in the kitchen picking up orders.
I hadn’t told her about Tommy or Dylan’s offer. It would only give more ammunition to her suspicions. “Tommy has a half day,” I lied. “I need to go meet him at the bus stop in a few minutes.”
Kate groaned, “And leave me with the lunch rush?”
“I’ll be gone for five minutes. Ten tops.”
“I don’t remember Mom saying anything about a half day.”
“She didn’t know.”
Kate opened her mouth, ready to object, but I grabbed my plates and pushed through the kitchen doors before she could.
After serving the table and checking drink refills for my other customers, I hurried out to meet Dylan and Tommy. I found them standing on the opposite corner, sitting at one of the iron tables outside the ice cream shop, each of them nursing an ice cream. “Oh good, give him ice cream for getting into a fight. That’ll teach him,” I muttered to myself as I started down the sidewalk. The irritation quickly faded when Dylan said something that made Tommy laugh. I stopped on the corner, just watching. Tommy’s laugh floated to me on the gentle breeze. He set aside his milkshake cup and made some elaborate gestures as he entertained Dylan with
some story. Dylan smiled at him and something inside my chest tightened.
As if sensing me watching them, Dylan turned and gestured for me. Tommy waved at me, the huge smile still on his face, and my heart clenched even tighter. I hadn’t seen Tommy smile like that for months, even before everything with his father.
His smile faltered when I took a place at the table. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hello, sweetheart. Rough day at school?”
He nodded and then looked down at his hands.
“We’ll talk about it later, okay?” I asked, reaching over to ruffle his hair.
He looked around and zeroed in on a dog walker with half a dozen pooches on leashes coming down the street. Tommy squirmed in his seat and smiled at the dogs. “Can I go see the puppies?” Tommy asked Dylan.
Dylan glanced at me, and I nodded. “Make sure you ask first,” I called after him as he bolted from his seat like a rocket.
“You didn’t have to get him ice cream,” I said, glancing into the empty paper cup.
Dylan offered me a spoonful, and I smiled. “Chocolate mint?”
He grinned. “Of course.”
I took the bite, my eyes locked on Dylan’s. His eyes dropped to watch me take the bite and heat coursed through me at the completely innocent and yet subtly naughty way he watched me.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Dylan dipped the spoon back in and took a bite for himself.
“What did he say?” I asked, looking down the block where Tommy was on one knee, petting the cluster of overeager pups.
“Some kid was making fun of him for crying in class. Tommy got mad and punched him.”
Tears sprang to my eyes as I watched my sweet baby boy. He was practically on the ground, getting the ice cream remnants licked from his cheeks by two of the smaller dogs. The idea that some child would say something so cruel broke my heart. “He’s just a little boy, not even six yet.”
