One Last Thing

by Rebecca St. James

  I knew how to answer that. “We’re definitely good,” I said.

  He pulled the hat ever so slightly from his head and kissed my cheek. Fedora back in its place, he stepped back and waited while I punched in the code and let myself in.

  “Thank you, Ike,” I said without looking at him. “Thank you for everything.”

  I slipped inside and leaned the door shut and stayed there, eyes closed. Everything drained from me—the violence, the fear, the total bewilderment—all of it. It really was over. I knew everything and I could walk through it and I could leave even the pain of Fritzie behind me. No more secrets. No more shame. And maybe . . . someday . . . Ike.

  I could go and sleep now.

  But when I opened my eyes I nearly split out of my skin. My brother stood three feet from me in the foyer.

  “You about scared the pee out of me, Kellen,” I said. “What are you doing?”

  “Waiting for you.”

  I gave a weak laugh, all wobbly with relief. “I get it: this is payback for me getting you out of bed at two in the morning, right?”

  “I have to talk to you.”

  It took me that long to realize Kellen’s voice was small and terrified. I switched on the lamp on the side table and looked at him. He was ash-grey and his lower lip trembled, and his hand clutched at the bottom of his shirt. Clutched and released and clutched.

  “Kellen, what is it?” I said. “Is it GrandMary?”

  “No.”

  “Mama? Daddy? What is it?”

  “It’s me.”

  “You. You what? You’re freaking me out here.”

  “I did it, Tara,” he said.

  “Did . . .”

  “I told the paper about Seth. You said no more secrets so I’m telling you. I outed my best friend.”

  His face collapsed on itself. Sobs came out of him like dry heaves. I stood there for a few seconds before I realized my hands were covering my mouth, as if they knew I shouldn’t speak whether I knew what to say or not. And I didn’t.

  Kellen? Kellen told? Not only did I not know what to say, I didn’t know what to feel. Even anger was shocked into silence.

  Kellen, however, couldn’t seem to stop freeing the agony that had apparently been imprisoning him for weeks. “I was trying to make it up to you, you know? For not protecting you from Seth when I knew about the porn five years ago.” He swiped at his face. “When I went to see him in the hospital he was doing everything he could to make trying to off himself your fault. I wanted to off him myself.” He gave his head a miserable shake. “I thought if it went public he’d be totally screwed and people would stop blaming you for messing up his life.” He was crying so hard I could hardly understand his next words. “I’m sorry, Tara. I messed it up more and I’m so sorry.”

  The sobs were almost convulsive and whether I could grasp what I felt or not, I couldn’t let him go there. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders.

  “Stop,” I said. “You have to stop. It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not. Why don’t you hate me?”

  I stepped back, hands sliding to his biceps. This one thing I did know. “Hate you? Are you serious? None of this is worth hating over, Kellen.”

  “Why aren’t you mad at me?”

  “I don’t know what I am! But Kellen . . . look at me.”

  He didn’t.

  “Look at me.” I waited until he dragged his eyes level with mine. “I am so over this undoing everybody’s world and tearing apart our relationships. You understand? Done. So, yes, I may want to smack you tomorrow and, yes, right now I think you’re an idiot.” My voice finally broke. “But I love you.”

  Why our parents didn’t hear us crying in the foyer, sobs echoing up the stairs, I had no idea. Maybe they did. Maybe we all knew now that we could weather this thing without being blown away.

  When Kellen pulled back and wiped his face—and nose—on his sleeve, he said, “Are you going to tell Seth?”

  “Not my story to tell,” I said. “Are you?”

  Kellen gave his nose another smear. “You said no more secrets.”

  “I did.” I moved to the opposite wall of the foyer and leaned against the full-length mirror. “Y’know, maybe there aren’t any rules for this. But, okay, think of it this way.” I peeled away from the mirror and shaped the words with my hands. “Did it do any good for you to tell Seth’s secrets to the entire city?”

  Kellen answered with a shudder.

  “So think about what would be gained by adding to his pain by telling him.” I shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t have it all figured out. I’m still trying to just do the next true thing.”

  “I have to think about it,” he said.

  “That would be novel.”

  “Bite me.”

  Kellen put his arms around me again. “Thank you,” he said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “But Kellen, whatever you decide, don’t let it fester. Do it or don’t do it and then let it go. That much I do know.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Hey, who was that guy who brought you home? What’s up with him?”

  “You’re killin’ me,” I said. “Just killin’ me.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  I woke up the next morning—well, afternoon—feeling just as the ER nurse predicted I would. Every part of me throbbed like I’d been beaten with a large stick, which basically I had, and I climbed out of bed the way Ms. Anderson Bales probably climbed out of hers. A full body inspection in the mirror revealed two large bruises surfacing on my back and assorted smaller ones dotting the rest of my body.

  I was far more bummed about the fact that I missed church, and Ned, and, for that matter, lunch. Of course, I had eaten breakfast at two a.m. I was headed downstairs to the refrigerator when my cell phone rang. It was Lexi, and I answered with, “Oh my gosh, Lex, I slept through taking Wendy to the police station!”

  “No worries,” she said. “Ms. Helen and Betsy took her. And by the way, hi.”

  “I’m sorry . . . Ms. Helen and Betsy?”

  “It’s kind of a long story and I don’t know the whole thing, but I guess Gray called them and they volunteered because they knew you’d be exhausted and I had to go to class.”

  “You went to class?”

  “Yes, and now I’m going to bed.”

  I stopped on the second landing and pressed my free hand to my forehead. “Lex, wait. You’re going to your apartment?”

  “Ye-ah.”

  “It’s not safe, though.”

  “We’re okay for now. Wendy asked and they said What’s-His-Nose is still locked up because nobody’s bailed him out yet.”

  “I don’t know which I love most,” I said, “that or you calling him What’s-His-Nose.”

  “I thought of other names but, y’know, I’m a good Christian girl and all that.”

  “You definitely are.” I continued down the steps. “He’s not going to be in jail forever, though. We need to come up with a plan for y’all.”

  “Ms. Helen’s looking into apartments. I guess the man she’s dating is a Realtor.”

  “The man she’s dating?”

  “I know, right?”

  “I really have been talking about myself too much. I don’t even know these women and they’re like some of my best friends.”

  Lexi was quiet.

  “You okay?” I said.

  “Kind of.” I heard her sigh. “I know whatever she finds that’s decent is going to be more than we can afford.”

  I’d reached the kitchen by then. Mama was there, mixing something in a bowl. She smiled and pointed from me to the fridge. I nodded.

  “We?” I said to Lexi. “You and Wendy are getting a place together?”

  “Crazy, right? It makes sense, really.”

  “It does.”

  “But still—I just don’t know if we can afford something nice, you know, in a safe part of town. Listen, I need to go to bed. I’m about to fall over. I’ll call you tonight.”

  She ende
d the call, and I stood there looking at the phone.

  “Good morning, sleepyhead,” Mama said. “Everything okay? I’ve hardly seen you for days.”

  “How’s GrandMary?” I said.

  She looked a little surprised. “She’s tired from the radiation but she’s doing better than they expected. Of course. I’ll warm up a bowl of chili for you. How would that be?”

  “That would be great.” I leaned against the counter. “You were surprised when I asked about her.”

  Mama opened her mouth but I put up my hand.

  “You don’t have to answer that. I just feel like I’ve been so far down in this . . . pit, I haven’t been thinking about other people.”

  “Doesn’t sound like it to me.” Mama put a bowl in the microwave and nodded at my phone. “Was that Lexi?”

  “Yeah. She and another friend of ours are looking for an apartment. Where Lexi is right now—she’s, like, in danger of a home invasion every night.”

  “Shall I ask around?” Mama said.

  “Sure. Mama.”

  She turned from poking at the microwave and smiled as only she could. As I hadn’t seen her do in a while, all full of Mama-mirth. “Yes, darlin’?” she said.

  “I think we all need to sit down tonight—you and Kellen and Daddy and me—and have a family meeting. There’s a lot I need to tell you, and I need your help figuring some of it out.”

  “Is it about Seth?” she said.

  “Partly. Mostly it’s about me. Can we? Can we do that?”

  “Oh, sweet darlin’,” she said. “There is nothing we would rather do.”

  We made a date for seven p.m. At five I called Lexi, who answered, groggy but awake.

  “Can you two meet me at the Piebald in ten?” I said.

  “You and Wendy aren’t supposed to go there today.”

  “Not to work. Just to talk.”

  There was some mumbling with, I assumed, Wendy, and Lexi came back with a yes.

  Ten minutes later we were gathered at the Watch table, minus the three older members. Ike pretended to scowl at us from behind the counter, but before we even got settled he brought three mugs of hot chocolate and said, “On the house. But I’m not making a habit of it.”

  “You’re a prince, Ike,” Wendy said drily.

  I grinned at her when Ike was gone. “You’re feeling better.”

  “I should, seeing how I couldn’t have felt any worse before. But, yeah, I’m better. Thanks to you.” She looked at Lexi, who was blowing into her mug. “Now if we could find a place to live.”

  “Money’s the issue,” I said.

  “Yes.” She leveled the violet eyes at me. “And I am not taking any more money from you. Oh, and here’s what you gave me last night.”

  She reached for her purse but I shook my head. “That’s Gray’s money so you’ll have to try to give it back to her. Emphasis on the try.”

  “I’m not taking charity,” she said.

  “I’m not offering any,” I said.

  “Or a loan.”

  “Not offering that either. Just because my parents have money doesn’t mean I do.”

  Lexi was watching me through the steam from her cup. “I know that look,” she said. “You’re dreaming up something.”

  I felt myself shiver. “Dreaming? No, not so much with the dreaming. But, okay, as we’re sitting here trying to figure this out, I’m getting this idea and I’m just going to go ahead and say it because lately things I don’t even know are coming out of my mouth and it’s all been right—”

  “Tara,” Wendy said, her face deadpan. “I have never known anyone who can beat something to death trying to get it out. Say it already.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Here it is.”

  “Thank the good Lord.”

  “What if we got a place big enough for all three of us and split the rent three ways? I do have enough money for first and last, and if you’re uncomfortable with that you can pay the utilities for a couple of months until we’re even. Do you think? That could work, right?”

  Lexi was clearly about to sob. I was reading that as a yes.

  Wendy I could never read. Especially not now as she looked at me completely without expression.

  “You’re almost a complete spaz,” she said. “You’re all up in other people’s business. And you start every sentence three times before you even start to get it out. And you expect me to live with you?”

  “Well,” I said. “Yeah.”

  “Good,” Wendy said. “Because I would love that. I would totally love it.”

  Lexi was full-out crying by then, and Wendy dug into her canvas bag and brought out a hunk of Kleenex.

  “So you said Ms. Helen’s boyfriend has some leads on some places?” I said.

  Lexi stopped blowing her nose and nodded.

  “But we’re not going to be able to move in, like, tomorrow, right?”

  “Not even,” Wendy said.

  “Which leaves probably a week with”—I grinned at Lexi—“What’s-His-Nose on the loose, and by the way we are putting a security system in our apartment, just so you know.”

  Wendy frowned. “And who’s paying for that? I should since—”

  “Somebody probably owes my father a favor,” I said. “He always has a guy. We’ll work it out. That’s a separate issue.”

  “From . . .?” Wendy said.

  “From where you two are going to stay between now and the time we move in. I have an idea.” I gave Wendy my best don’t-mess-with-me look. “And I want you to hush up until I say the whole thing.”

  Wendy looked at Lexi. “Let her in a nightclub one time and she thinks she’s all tough.”

  Huh. I guess I was.

  Wendy grudgingly agreed to my proposal—like she had any other options—and I took it to my family that night when we gathered in the small dining room with a veritable Italian feast on the table. Kellen ate like he hadn’t in days, which I realized was probably true. Guilt consumes a person’s appetite. Daddy was, of course, in his fatherly element, literally beaming at us and squeezing Mama’s hand and saying things like, “Don’t we have great kids?” At one point, about the time the tiramisu made its appearance, he grew somber and said, “You aren’t kids anymore, either one of you. You’re fine adults.”

  “You’re not gonna cry, are you, Dad?” Kellen said.

  “No,” Daddy said. “Absolutely not.”

  Mischief danced in Mama’s eyes. “Not right now, anyway. Check our wastebasket for Kleenex in the morning.”

  Nobody cried when Kellen and I told them about Fritzie. There was anger, yes, and I knew that would smolder for some time. My announcement that I was moving in with Lexi and Wendy received mixed reviews. That one would have to settle in. What lifted the collective mood again was my proposal: that Wendy and Lexi stay with us on Gaston Street until we could get into our apartment.

  Daddy gave an unconvincing grin and said he was sure he would get no sleep with all the giggling going on. I didn’t remind him that we weren’t twelve.

  Kellen wanted to know if we were going to watch anything but chick flicks. What that really meant was that I was bringing an unknown female into the house and he wanted a chance to check her out. Kellen and Wendy. Wouldn’t that be amusing?

  But Mama was the one who took the idea and ran with it like Usain Bolt. We could make it a spa week. She would treat us all to manis and pedis and put candles all around the hot tub and bring Greta, her massage therapist, in. Telling her we didn’t need to be pampered would be like saying we didn’t need to eat. Before we finished our coffee she had the week’s menu planned.

  Kellen got up to help Mama clear the table and I was about to when Daddy told me to sit down.

  “I need to clarify a few things,” he said.

  The mood turned serious, but I was okay with that. No anxiety sent out its spikes from my midsection.

  “You obviously have enough money to get into this place,” he said first.

  “Yes. I
have it in savings. And we’ve made arrangements for Lex and Wendy to pay me back.”

  He nodded. I got the sense he must look this way when he was running a board meeting.

  “And you can swing your share of the rent working at the Pie Face.”

  “Piebald, Daddy. Yes. Ike wants to put me in a manager’s position.”

  “Do you have any plans beyond that?” He put both palms up. “I know you’ve been through a lot and you haven’t had a chance to look at the future.” He reached across the table and covered my hand. “I think, though, that you’ve decided there is one.”

  “It was looking a little bleak for a while,” I said. “But, yeah, I’m hopeful.”

  “So . . . you’re going into food service?”

  I shook my head at him. “Daddy, just say it: you don’t want to see me working in a coffee shop forever.”

  “I don’t want to see you working in a coffee shop forever.”

  “I’m not going to.”

  I looked into my own palms. This was another one of those moments when I was about to say something that must have been forming in my mind while I was busy doing what I thought I was supposed to be doing. I could hear Ned again, telling me, Not what you’re supposed to do. Just the next true thing.

  “I want to go to film school,” I said. “Here. At SCAD. I’ll have to apply and save for it. And maybe you would consider giving me a loan like you did Lexi.”

  He leaned back in the chair and toyed with the spoon parked on the saucer. Shades of that night in the Faulkner Cinema when he said no to this same idea. Fine. I could do it on my own. Wendy was doing it. Lexi had Daddy’s help but she could make it, too, if she didn’t. This wasn’t dream stuff, not a gauzy vision with no idea what reality was like. I hadn’t gone through the last two months without facing that—and finally staring it down.

  “Two percent interest,” Daddy said. “And I won’t go any higher.”

  My breath caught. “Five,” I said.