Disorderly Conduct

by Tessa Bailey

  My hands fly up, forming a vise around my head. Like they can squeeze out the misery of walking away from Ever. Permanently? Yeah. It has to be this way. Or we’re doomed to repeat the pattern set out in front of us. Lived by our parents. I won’t neglect her. I won’t let her be second place. She deserves the moon, the sun and stars. I could only give her late-night phone calls saying I’m going to be home late. Worry. Cancelled reservations. A cold side of the bed alongside her warm one. Anything less than one hundred percent focus on Ever and our relationship would be unacceptable. It’s all I have to offer, though. Less than she deserves.

  So she’ll meet someone who recognizes he’s hit the motherfucking lottery. And that guy will give her mornings in bed, trips out of town . . . fuck. FUCK. Children? I don’t know. She’s so young, but I can’t imagine a man not begging to start a family with Ever. To see her reproduced in any way possible. I would have, wouldn’t I? Yeah . . . hell yeah. Once I got stationed and Hot Damn started expanding, I could see it. Ever pursing her lips, reading the notecards stuck on the tree I gave her, a little belly peeking out the bottom of her shirt.

  In my daydream, another man walks up behind her. Smiling. Asking what she’s cooking. While she’s reading my notecard tree.

  My shout ricochets off the tile walls of the showers. I roll over onto my knees, pressing my face into the draining water. I’m probably catching malaria, and I don’t even give a shit. Bring it on. Maybe it’ll put me into a coma and I won’t have to spend another minute wondering what I’m missing. What I’ll be missing for the rest of my life.

  Ever. Ever. Ever. Ever.

  Why, God. Why did I spend the night? I would have been a pitiful excuse for a man, rolling around in piss germs, even if I’d left her apartment Tuesday night. But I wouldn’t have the added mind fuck of knowing how she talks in her sleep. Talks to me. Sometime around three in the morning, she’d snuggled her face into my chest and murmured, “Charlie, you were mean to farmers at the farmer’s market. Bad Charlie.” Proving she was aware of me mad dogging the guy who’d sold her bok choy, but didn’t even mention it. Proving she is the coolest, most incredible unicorn of all unicorns. And I’m without her now. I’m forever without Ever.

  “Wow.” Danika’s voice in the men’s locker room isn’t even enough to bring my face off the ground. “He’s going to need a tetanus shot.”

  “Jesus.” Jack. “This is how you earn the title patient zero.”

  “Fuck off. Please.” I roll onto my side and listen to the comforting gurgle. “I don’t need you to tell me I’m a mess.”

  Danika retreats into the main locker room and returns with a towel. She wades into the shower on her tiptoes, shuts off the water and throws the white terrycloth over my lower half. “There,” she says. “Not that you don’t have a lovely dick, but I have rules against ogling another woman’s property.”

  “Thanks.” I still can’t find it in me to move. Maybe I’ll just stay here the rest of my life. “But I’m not her property anymore. She was never mine, either.”

  Jack makes this noise, like he’s been silent too long and the suppression of his almighty opinion has taken its toll. It’s the equivalent of a bear waking up and growling after a long winter of hibernation. “Look, you know I’m the last one to give relationship advice, but you’ve been dating Ever since the beginning. Doesn’t matter what enlightened bullshit you were calling it.”

  “No. They weren’t dating,” Danika enunciates. “Dating means bingeing on Netflix together. Awkward nights out with each other’s friends. Having a song.”

  “Wait.” I finally find the wherewithal to sit up. The towel slips off and Danika throws up her hands, clearly disgusted, but she’s the one raining on my pity party so she can just deal with my junk. “We do have a song. ‘My Type’ by Saint Motel. We danced to it at the art function and again at Webster Hall. Technically, she did meet you guys, too. And it was awkward enough, right?”

  “Not that awkward,” Danika says. “She barely batted an eyelash when she walked in and saw Jack arm wrestling shirtless. I liked her.”

  “Why wouldn’t you?” I pound my head backward into the tile wall. “She’s amazing.”

  “What are you upset about? This is great news.” Jack rubs imaginary dirt off his hands. “You were dating all along. Show up with a Netflix password and some wine. Get this shit sorted out by the weekend.”

  “You don’t understand.” The pounding starts up again in my temples. “If I was dating her, I had no right to. As soon as I take the exam, I’m going to be working around the clock.” I shove both hands through my hair. “I could only spare her an hour a day before. Once I graduate? That hour is going to shrink down to nothing. I watched it . . .” I swallow hard. “I was young, but I think I watched it happen with my parents. I’m starting to remember more . . . about how unhappy it made my mother. She was lonely.”

  Danika and Jack are silent a moment, then both of them are in the shower, sitting down beside me. In their clothes. Danika lays the towel over my lap and puts an arm around my shoulder.

  Jack does the same, his expression more serious than I’ve ever seen it. “Real talk, Burns. Tomorrow, I’m going to deny saying any of this and I’ll never repeat it, so listen well.” He squints one eye, like he’s looking into the bottom of a bottle. “You come from a long line of legends. It’s true. Your father is already in the history books, and he’s still alive and kicking. Your brother scares everyone shitless, and he’d run headfirst into a shoot-out. Fine. These are all true facts. But you have something we—” he cuts a hand between himself and Danika “—value in the Kitchen, more than brass and medals. You’ve got heart. Okay? So maybe you’re not cut out for forty-eight-hour shifts and going home to an empty apartment, content just to be respected. Maybe you need more. And you’re a shit ton smarter than me, so don’t look this way if you want the solution.” He elbows me hard in the ribs. “You’ll come up with it yourself.”

  My throat feels hot, so I clear it. “Christ, Jack. You wait until my dick is out to be this sincere?” Our laughter helps, but we’re still not looking each other in the eye. “I don’t know if it works that way for me, but thanks for saying so.”

  “I’ve never been so relieved to be a woman.” Danika’s voice is dry. “But one-half of this emotionally stunted duo is right. Look at you, man. You’re sitting here in piss and mildew, and she’s probably home thinking about you. Right now.”

  I snort. “Yeah. Thinking about what an asshole I am for leaving before she even woke up.” I tilt my head back on a disgusted laugh. “She doesn’t even know the half of what I’ve done since she started dating other people. Screwing with her dates, letting her think I’m some guy named Reve and agreeing to meet her—”

  Danika rears back. “Come again?”

  I hold up a hand. “Trust me, I don’t deserve her. Not even a little.”

  “So, figure out how to change that,” Danika says, getting pissed. “You can’t just—”

  “Charlie.”

  At the sound of Greer’s voice, all three of our spines snap straight, gazes shooting to the shower entrance, where my brother stands. Looking more disheveled and haunted than I’ve ever seen him. Without a command from my brain, I gain my feet, wrapping the towel around my waist. “What is it? What happened?”

  Funny how tragedies have a way of putting what’s most important into perspective.

  Okay, not funny at all.

  Chapter 23

  Ever

  There is a sliver of time between four fifty and five p.m. in Manhattan that signals the yellow cab shift change. Day shift ends, meaning those drivers are no longer taking fares. And the night shifters are coming on, but they’re all being swallowed up by people dipping out of work and beginning the daily rush hour hustle. Uber hasn’t solved the lack of available hired transportation, either, because there are literally eight million people trying to get home at once, while service industry folks—like me and Nina—are moving our asses
, trying to make it to dinner shifts in bars and restaurants.

  We tried to get a cab and failed. Uber wanted to charge triple the fare, and it wasn’t in our budget for the night. Not to mention, traffic is gridlocked and cabs can’t fly, anyway. So Nina and I are currently on the rush hour 5 train, holding four refrigerated bags full of pies, trying to get uptown and deliver them on time. To a cigar and pies rooftop party. Because why not?

  Ask me if I’m in the mood for this. Go ahead.

  Realizing that I’m glaring at innocent people on the train, I let my eyelids drop.

  Well. I’m not in the mood. My skin is itchy under the straps of my overall skirt. I’m running on about eight cups of coffee because I slept past my alarm, then baked a trillion pies, two of them with kale, three with cardamom—by request—and I have no patience for another passenger’s armpit in my face. I think . . . I think I’m overwrought. That’s what this urge to cry and scream and bite a stranger is defined as, right?

  Worse, I’ve had this awful knot in my stomach since I woke up alone Wednesday morning. No trace of Charlie, apart from the scent he’d left behind on the pillow. The smell is fading, though. Fading fast. I had to battle the urge to crawl into one of the refrigerated bags earlier and zip it shut. Sunlight is bothering me. Silence, too. All the things I used to love are missing an ingredient. Charlie. His smile. That endearing mixture of cockiness and vulnerability. The way he rests his tongue on the inside of his bottom lip when I’m talking. He does it when he’s dancing, too, so I know it’s a sign of concentration, and I miss that little gesture so much. So much. And I know I’ll move on to something else about him soon, missing it just as bad. Like the bump on his nose. Or the fact that sometimes he wears old-school white undershirts.

  Tonight is my date with Reve S. Guy. I have no idea how I’m going to manage it. After spending the night with Charlie, feeling him kiss my hair and neck when he thought I was sleeping, seeing another man feels wrong. Horribly wrong. I keep expecting him to text me or show up unannounced, admitting he misses me too, but he doesn’t. He won’t. Every minute that goes by feels like a bad dream.

  “Why don’t you blow off the date tonight?” Nina suggests quietly, leaning against the silver pole we’re both wedged against. “I don’t see it going well when you’re still—”

  “I’m going.” I give her an apologetic look for being short. For every time I’ve been short with her all day, really. “If I cancel this one, I’ll cancel the next one. And . . . it’s over with Charlie.” Swallowing is a feat. “I don’t know why I asked him to stay over. It just made everything harder, you know?”

  Nina sighs when someone bumps her from behind. “You asked him, because it was natural. He should have been staying every night. From the start.” She shakes her head. “I’d never really seen you two together until the night we went to Webster Hall and . . . wow. I don’t think you realize the way you behave together.”

  Don’t take the bait. Don’t ask. “What way is that?”

  Nina’s mouth turns down at the corners, her eyes sad. “Like you’re each waiting for the other to say goodbye, so you can fall apart. And that’s a damn good indication you shouldn’t say goodbye at all.” The loud speaker comes on, announcing the next stop, static and squealing breaks making the audio impossible to hear. “I mean, I had my doubts about him after . . .”

  When Nina trails off, I give her a curious look. “After what?”

  She chews her lip a moment. “There’s something I have to tell you, Ever. I really hope it doesn’t make everything worse, but it’s been killing me—”

  The train jolts to a halt, flinging us back a few steps. Having no choice but to postpone the odd conversation or risk missing our stop, Nina and I heave the refrigerated bags onto our shoulders and push through the sea of grumbling passengers, dodging new riders already trying to wade into the train. As we lug the heavy bags up the steps, my muscles groan, but I’m distracted by what Nina needs to tell me. God, I really can’t take any more bad news right now. I just want to deliver these pies, go home, get ready for my date and face it head-on. As long as I keep my head down and move, maybe there’s a chance tomorrow I’ll miss Charlie a smidgen less.

  Not likely. Especially considering I start looking for him the moment we step above ground onto the sidewalk. Didn’t I run into him in this neighborhood after speed dating a few weeks ago? Maybe . . .

  My phone buzzes in my pocket. No way am I answering it right now. We’re mere blocks from the drop-off site, and I’m loaded down like a freaking pack mule. But as Nina and I cross the busy intersection, pedestrians bottlenecking around us, my cell vibrates again. And again.

  I stop outside the address, carefully setting down the bags and massaging my aching shoulders, Nina doing the same. “Someone keeps calling me,” I say, while at the same time, Nina mutters, “About what I was saying on the train . . .”

  A quick check of my phone, though, and my pulse drowns out everything but the vicious hammering in my blood. “Charlie. Charlie is calling me.”

  Nina cocks an eyebrow. “Are you going to answer it?”

  “He’s called me six times,” I say, mostly to myself, hitting the green button. “Hello?”

  “Ever.” His voice is like churning gravel and I’m immediately on alert, my fingers going icy around the phone. “I’m sorry to call you like this. I know I shouldn’t.”

  The street traffic is so loud, I cup my hand over the receiver and move into the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

  “My father is in intensive care.” A door slams on the other end of the line, voices follow. “He had a heart attack. During a media briefing. And . . . fuck, can you come to me?” There’s a short pause during which I think my heart explodes into a million pieces, with worry, relief, urgency. “I need you. Christ, I need to see your face so bad.” My breath rockets out of my lungs, leaving them depleted, my knees turning to vapor. “Lenox Hill, Ever. Will you come?”

  Charlie

  There’s a loose thread in the waiting room carpet. It’s squiggly and beige, just to the right of my boot. And I wonder if it’s the one squiggly, beige thread that has gotten the most attention in the world, from shell-shocked family members needing something to focus on besides the waiting room door. I wouldn’t notice it any other day, but kind of like the gurgling drain back in the locker room, it’s reminding me I’m awake. Whether or not being lucid is a good thing? That’s debatable.

  My father was brought into the emergency room at Lenox Hill in critical condition. Me, Greer, Jack and Danika had to push through a sea of reporters to reach the entrance, some of them recognizing my brother, although they hadn’t gotten a single word out of him. Nor had I. After he’d ordered the waiting room television shut off, he’d sat down across from me, stone-faced and eerily silent, where he still remains. My friends have gone off in pursuit of coffee, which I’m grateful for, because I can feel them watching me helplessly, but can’t form the right responses to let them know I’m all right. I’m not all right.

  Chief Xavier Burns is supposed to be immortal. It never really crossed my mind that he was human. Children are supposed to grow out of that belief regarding their parents long before now, but none of them were raised by my father. I’ve never seen him show a weakness and yet—until Greer had demanded they shut off the evening news—they continued to replay the footage of him collapsing. His face paling, that iron fist clutching at his chest, legs giving way. I’m never going to get the image out of my mind.

  And I’m never going to forget what occurred to me after the doctors confirmed our father was still alive, still fighting. I’d thought, we will all die. I could die. I will die. Maybe it’ll be seventy years from today, but it’s going to happen. All the achievements and commendations and records my father has earned? They didn’t mean anything when the EMTs loaded him onto the stretcher. He hadn’t asked for his medals or appointment book. According to my father’s assistant, he’d asked for his sons.

  And he�
��d begged for his wife, who of course, no one knew how to reach.

  Because she was long gone.

  Hearing that, I’d called Ever before I registered the shaking phone in my hand, my fingers punching the wrong buttons eighty times until I finally got it right. So that’s where I’m at right now. In this cold, lonely, terrified place. I’m praying to every god of every religious denomination that Ever walks through the waiting room door, so I can lock her in my arms and throw away the key. I don’t want to beg for her on my death bed. I want her now. Want her every day. And I’m terrified that it’s too late. If she’s only coming to the hospital to be a good friend, I would completely understand. I haven’t been worthy, but if she shows up, I swear to all the gods, I will die making up for it.

  The waiting room door opens, bringing Greer and me shooting to our feet. Jack walks in, followed by Danika, who says, “Found someone in the lobby.”

  It’s Ever. It’s Ever. I break the law of physics lunging across the room, dropping my face into her neck and breathing, breathing for the first time in hours. “You came.” I look like such a pussy, leaning my entire body on this girl who I outweigh by several dozen pounds and I don’t give a shit. “Thank you for coming.”

  She drops her purse on the ground, wrapping both arms around my waist. “Of course I came,” she breathes near my ear. “Is there any news?”

  “Not yet,” I rasp. “Can you come with me for a minute? We need to talk, and it can’t wait.”

  I glance over at Greer, wishing for the first time we were the kind of family who didn’t shut down when something bad happened. Maybe I’ll get the ball rolling. I have to, because it doesn’t work for me anymore. “We’ll be out in the hall. Come find me when the doctor comes?”

  I wait for my brother’s barely noticeable finger flick, then I take Ever’s hand, leading her past the tense, busy nurses’ station. A few of them watch us go by with interest, but I’m so focused on getting Ever alone, I barely manage a nod. As soon as we reach the dim side corridor, I pull Ever into my arms and we crash together against the wall. Urgency pumps in my veins, demanding I suck in great, greedy gulps of her. My mouth moves over her neck, into her hair, across her lips. Inhaling, retaining.