by AE Woodward
My door opens a crack and Tommy pokes his head through. “Knock, knock,” he says.
I quickly wipe the tearstains off my cheeks. I don’t want to lump any of my stress onto Tommy. He doesn’t need to carry my baggage. Clearing my throat, I say, “It doesn’t count if you actually don’t knock, Tommy.” Growing up I always gave Tommy a ration of shit about just barging into my room. He never did understand. Seems that old habits die hard, in more than one way.
“I thought you could use someone to talk to.”
The edge of my bed dips as he sits down. I open my eyes before sitting up and sliding next to him. Without a thought, I roll my head to the side, leaning against his shoulder.
“You know?” I ask even though I already knew the answer.
“Yeah. When I couldn’t reach Parker, I went to Stevenson. I gave him a hard time about not knowing what was going on. Didn’t let up until he decided to tell me.”
“Mom and Pop?” My stomach ties in knots. This will surely disappoint them again. I’ve already put them through so much, and for them to know this would wreck their whole world.
He shakes his head. “No. That’s not my story to tell.”
I sigh. “You think I’m a bad person?”
“No, actually I don’t. I get it, Katie. Parker isn’t the easiest person to love. Take it from someone who knows. I’ve known him since I was five and he’s always been good at pushing people away—you know, because of his Mom and stuff. I wish I had known what was going on back then. I could’ve helped you.”
“I’ve never been one to ask for help. You know that. I’m working on it, but it’s hard for me. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, Tommy, and now I’m paying for them.”
Tommy slides his hand into mine. “Don’t say that.”
I shake my head. “I’ve gotta say it, Tommy, because as messed up as it sounds at least it gives me a reason for their deaths. Because thinking that they were taken from me because of my bad decisions is better than thinking that they’re gone from this earth for no good reason at all.”
“You’ve come a long way since that screaming mess in the hospital,” he says, nudging me with his elbow.
It’s too painful to think about in any depth so I just nod and say, “I just wish I hadn’t hurt everybody in the process.”
Tommy leans over and kisses me gently on the forehead. “Sometimes we have to hurt in order to heal.”
“Since when did you get so wise?”
While I chuckle to myself he stands up and smiles. “Since my sister needed me to be.”
All traces of humor vanish when I ask him, “What do I do next, Tommy?”
“Parker needs time, Katie. Remember, he’s grieving now too. He’s just learned that he lost a daughter he never had the chance to know.”
The lump in the back of my throat takes my breath away. Despite wanting to let it go and sob uncontrollably, I maintain control. I could barely deal with the emotions of losing Zoe myself and I had the chance to know her, hold her, kiss her and love her. Parker hadn’t.
“God, Tommy. He’s never going to forgive me, is he?”
“Time, Katie. Time is first.”
Stevenson’s words echoed in my head. Time, love, communication and honesty were all needed in order to heal. And I guess, right now, I have all the time in the world.
A little while later I walk into the kitchen to find Mom perched at the table, bills strewn about as she furiously writes in her checkbook. “Hey, Mom.”
She looks up and smiles. “Oh, Katie. I’m glad you’ve come down. I want to talk to you, sweetheart.”
The chair scrapes against the floor as I take the seat opposite her. Her talk will have to wait, I have my own mission. “Me too, Mom. I’ve got something I want you to help me with.”
This has her curious. After all, I don’t usually ask for help. She sets her pen down, giving me her undivided attention. “Of course.”
“I want you to help me dig out the boxes of pictures you stashed away.” There is a sharp intake of breath. Obviously she wasn’t expecting that. “I know you hid them all away because of me, but I want them back out. No, I need them out. I want them to remind me everyday of why they’re gone. Why I’m still here.”
Mom reaches across the table and grabs my hand. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
Without another word, Mom and I make our way up into the dusty attic. I spot the boxes immediately. They’re still open, frames peeking out haphazardly from the cardboard. Among them all, I catch sight of Zoe’s smile, her eyes gazing at me from across the room. The frame is dusty and when I reach down and pick it up, I wipe the edges of the frame with my sleeve. Mom slips her arm around my waist and pulls me into her side.
“She was such a beautiful girl,” she says, wiping a stray tear from her cheek.
I look down at the familiarity of her face. How I thought I could fool anybody was beyond me, because there was no denying that that little girl looked just like Parker. From her dark hair and blue eyes, to her solid jaw and melting smile. “Zoe wasn’t Michael’s,” I blurt out.
I think I hear Mom gasp, but then she’s pulling me in for a hug. “Oh, Katie,” she sighs into my neck. The seconds pass and I’m sure her mind is reeling as she tries to piece things together. “Who?” she finally asks.
“I think you know, Mom.”
“Parker?”
I nod as the tears threaten to break free.
In true Mom fashion, she takes a few minutes to digest this new information. With her hand still over her mouth she asks, “Does this have anything to do with why he hasn’t been around lately?”
I nod again.
“Oh, Katie,” she sobs while we embrace each other, “I wish I’d known.”
“That’s the going sentiment,” I quip. “I’ve made a mess, huh, Mom?”
“Maybe so, but I haven’t met a mess that I couldn’t clean, so lets get started shall we?”
She reaches in my back pocket and pulls out the envelope that I’ve been walking around with and places the remaining letter in my hand. I look down at it, unsure about what my next move should be. “He needs to read this. You know Michael intended it for him.”
Running my fingers over the handwriting on the envelope, I shiver at the thought of what it might contain. But I know that Mom is right. This letter might contain something that might help Parker understand.
With each step up those familiar stairs, my heart beats further out of control.
I shouldn’t be here.
I shouldn’t do this.
I should have waited.
Should have called.
I shouldn’t be pressing the situation.
The ball is in Parker’s court, so I should be following his lead. I consider turning around and going back home, but I can’t. I owe it to Mom. And Tommy. To Parker, because he never gave up on me. To Michael. Zoe. The baby. But most of all, I owe it to myself.
Knock, knock.
Muffled sounds come from behind the door. I try to make them out, but I can’t. I knock again.
Knock, knock, knock.
This time the voice is loud and clear. “FUCK! Gimme a minute.”
He sounds so angry. So broken. I feel sick.
The door flies open to reveal a disheveled Parker, a sheet wrapped around his waist.
“You,” he says, slurring his words.
I should leave. He’s drunk, and this isn’t how I want to do this. But something keeps me glued to that spot.
“Yes, Parker. Me.”
“What do you want?” he bites out.
“To talk. Can I come in?”
“I’m sorda busy.” He steps to the side to reveal some blonde lying on his couch. Although she’s covered up with a blanket her eyes are wide as she watches our exchange.
My heart breaks and the letter slips out of my hand. I hear it slide onto the floor, the sound amplifying as my head starts ringing. Within seconds the shock subsides and the anger begin
s to rise. Without a second thought, I reach out and slap him across the face. “You son of a bitch,” I cry.
He doesn’t even flinch as I make contact with him. “Did you expect anything less from me, Katie? This is what I do right? I’m the proverbial fuck up.”
“This,” I point in the direction of the bimbo, tears sting my eyes, “this is not you. I know better than that.”
“You gonna run again?” he asks, hate dripping from every word.
“Is that what this is to you?” I ask. “A game?”
He props himself up against the doorframe with his shoulder. It’s not an educated move—he’s so drunk he’d probably fall without doing so. “Isn’t it always? You and I, the cat and the mouse. It’s always just been about the chase, right? The fun of it all.”
On shaking legs, I take a step back. Finally hearing the words that I’ve always thought, breaks my heart more than I expected them to. “You don’t mean that. You’re drunk.”
“No. I mean it with every ounce of my being.” He lifts a finger and hastily points it in my direction. “Because if I had meant anything to you, you would have told me!”
“Why do you think I told you now?” I cry out.
The girl behind him is officially uncomfortable and she starts to dress. Sensing her movement behind him, he turns around and yells, “No, you stay!”
She complies and sits back down.
Satisfied, he directs his angry eyes back to me. “You told me too late, Katie. Now get the fuck off my doorstep.”
With those words the floodgates open and I collapse into a heap on that step. I have ruined everything and now my world is crashing down around me. I’ve been through so much and Parker has been there with me through it all, holding my hand, helping me feel again. He was the last thing I had to hold on to.
But now…
Well now, without him by my side, I feel all those dark, self-deprecating thoughts come back. Only this time they’ve increased tenfold because now I’ve lost him too. The lump forms in my throat again, but this time I don’t choke on it. This time I unleash the screams from within. I’m lying there screaming, until suddenly it all goes black.
I wake up in my bed. Or at least I think it’s mine, it takes me a few minutes to realize that it’s not. The giveaway is the smell of the sheets, because they smell like him. That’s all it takes for me to realize that I’m not at home, and that this is Parker’s bed.
I feel sick, praying that he hadn’t had sex with her in here. Sitting up, I see that the door is open and I hear arguing coming from down the hallway. It’s Tommy, and I can tell without even seeing him that he’s beyond pissed.
“You’re a fuckin’ dick, Parker!”
Nothing. No answer.
“How long have you been holed up here drinking? Huh?” I hear a can hit the wall. “We’ve been over this before. You drink, you fuck up. Time and time again, Parker. You’re an alcoholic! You cannot drink—at all!”
The ache in my chest returns, but the pain is not for me. No, the guilt comes from knowing I forced his hand. Parker had slipped up because of me. I dropped such a huge bombshell on him that he felt like the only thing he could turn to was alcohol. With everything that has been going on with me, I had no idea that drinking had become such a problem for him.
“Don’t you think I know that?” Parker bites out. Both of them fall silent. “I know, Tommy. I know.” Parker speaks so quietly now that I have to strain in order to hear him. He sounds sober and I wonder how long I’ve been passed out. It’s just a guess but with all the drama his little conquest must have left. Images of her, wrapped only in that blanket cause a tear in my heart, one that I’m not sure will ever repair. He wanted to hurt me, and he succeeded.
“Jesus, I know this is tough, but you’ve got to decide what you’re going to do. Either you’re going to give whatever this thing with Katie is a real chance, or you’re going to let her live her life. She doesn’t need you adding to her shit pile.”
“We can’t live without each other,” Parker chokes out. “Not again.”
“You know, you two have always had this weird ‘need the other to breathe’ type thing. I could tell that even way back when. So I think you have your answer. You’ve gotta make this right.”
“She hates me,” Parker chokes out.
“Do you hate her?” Tommy asks. Parker doesn’t answer, at least not that I can hear. “Because you know damn well that she could never hate you. If she doesn’t by now, she’s never going to.”
That’s it, I’ve had enough. Even though I’m still a little woozy from passing out, I stand from the bed and walk out into the living room. Clearing my throat I make my presence known. Both of them look as though they’ve been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. I don’t say a word. I don’t make eye contact. Instead, I walk straight past them, down the stairs and straight into Tommy’s truck. I sit alone in the cab reveling in the silence. The driver door opens shortly after I buckle my seatbelt.
“Katie,” Tommy leads.
There’s a long pause while he looks at me, pleading with his eyes for me to say something. I should feel something, but I don’t. The words he’s waiting for don’t come, and I turn my gaze out the window.
Things are just so much easier when I’m on my own.
I fall back onto the couch. Through my still slightly drunken haze I see that the coffee table is covered in empty beer cans. I’m beyond pissed at myself—fucking things up again, just like I always have. This is my M.O. When life gets hard, Parker gets drunk. Stands to reason Mom had to have taught me something before she left. Even though I’d still been in diapers, those memories of her would stick with me forever.
When Katie dropped her bombshell, she might as well have pulled the rug out from under me, and I guess in a way she did—she full on pulled the rug out from under my sobriety. Sitting there thinking about all that had gone down in the last 24 hours takes me back, and I begin reliving each of my bad decisions.
Slamming the screen door behind me, I walk through the yard with absolute resolve. I hop into the ’Stang and pause before pounding on the steering wheel relentlessly. Unbelievable. A daughter. My daughter. Our daughter.
The pressure of my sadness builds deep in my chest, threatening to break free at any moment. Instead of letting it out, I bite it back and turn the key, thanking my lucky stars that there is convenience store on the way to the bar.
I walk into the bar, just like I have so many times before. It’s quiet but I scan around, noticing that the few people here are the usual regulars and the slutty bartender/waitress. I’m already six beers in and the pain—feeding off me like a leech—is still there. Not the best idea I’ve ever had, but I need to do something, anything, to take away the inexplicable pain I am feeling. A dull ache at this point, it isn’t going anywhere. And here I am again—a chance at unconditional love stripped from me before I even had the chance.
I make my way to the bar, plopping down onto the stool that had been mine for years. Misty, the slutty bartender, immediately notices me. “Hey, Parker,” she purrs, “haven’t seen you ’round in awhile.”
“Yeah, I was busy with something.”
For a moment I wondered if she’d ask me what I’d been busy with, but she doesn’t. “So, what can I get you?” she asks, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Something strong,” I manage to say before slapping down a hundred dollar bill, “and keep ’em coming.”
It is passed closing time when Misty helps me out of the bar, my arm slung carelessly around her neck as I lean up against her for support. There’s probably more alcohol in my system than blood right now, and I can tell I’m almost at the point of blacking out. That feeling where the edges of my sight go black slowly creeps in and I know that forgetting isn’t too far away.
“Where to, Parker?” she asks, turning the corner to her car. It takes a bit of work but eventually she manages to prop me against the door as she fumbles with her keys. I take a deep bre
ath and I smell a familiar scent.
Katie’s shampoo, or maybe her perfume.
It’s one or the other, I’m not sure which, but it clouds my judgment even more than the booze. Without thinking I reach up and run my hands through Misty’s bleached blonde hair. Something about it doesn’t feel right, it’s not soft like Katie’s, but maybe Misty can help me forget. “You’re drunk,” she states, opening the car door.
“We could have fun.”
Given my inebriated state I’m thinking that she’ll shut me down, but instead she shoots me a cheeky grin. “We do have fun together, don’t we?”
Leaning forward I kiss her. It’s good and all, but it lacks any real sense of feeling or emotion. It’s empty and shallow. Just like me. My lips are still pressed to hers when a cool night air blows by me. My breath hitches, and the chill sobers me. Immediately pulling back from her, I stare into her eyes, knowing that what I’m doing is wrong. But it’s like a train wreck. One that you can’t look away from.
“Your place or mine?” I ask before sliding into her passenger seat.
“Definitely yours.”
Filled with rage I lean forward and use my forearms to clear off the tabletop. The cans go clanging to the ground, falling into a heap.
Such. A. Moron.
I pound my fist on the wood before leaning forward propping my elbows on my knees, tossing my head into my hands and trying to gather my thoughts. But I can’t. There’s just too much for me to process. As bad as I hurt, and want to kick myself in the ass for reverting back to my old ways, all I can ever see is her.
Her pain.
Her anguish.
Her hurt.
All the bad memories, caused by me, replay over and over in my head.
Katie and I have always been in this weird limbo—stuck between what is right, and what we feel, everything we’ve ever wanted just a whisper and touch away.
