by Katy Kaylee
“No,” I said.
“Then fucking tell me, dude. Don’t make me force it out of you,” Steve said.
“It’s ...” I began, then trailed off. “Look, I’m dealing with a breakup right now. I guess you could call it that, anyway.”
“Oh yeah?” Steve raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me it’s that stripper, Maxine.”
“It was Madison,” I said. “And no. Fucking of course not. She was an obnoxious slut, and you know it.”
“Who, then?”
I sighed. “No one.”
“Don’t make me do this, Hendricks,” Steve snapped.
I didn’t want to tell him. There was nothing in me that felt like confessing, but right there, with a fingerprint-smudged glass of whiskey in my hand, I suddenly knew that I didn’t have a choice. In a weird way, Steve was my closest confidante. Most of that had been circumstantial, but that didn’t make it any less true.
I took a deep breath. “I ever tell you about this case I worked ten years ago, when I was still a cop?”
Steve looked confused, but he gave a brief shake of his head.
I downed my whiskey in one gulp and held my hand up for another.
“This drug bust,” I began. “Meth and crack, but the guy also had a ton of pills. My partner and I had been watching him for weeks. We broke into his house when we had the warrant, and there was a little girl hidden in the closet.”
Steve’s confusion grew by the second.
“She wasn’t his,” I said. “She was ... well, he bought her off some junkie who owed him,” I continued, feeling a wave of sick nostalgia wash over me. I closed my eyes and saw young, ten-year-old Paris, dirty and clad in rags, with her nose running and tears streaming down her face.
“Fuck,” Steve said. “God, this job makes me fucking hate people sometimes.”
I nodded.
“Anyway, I took her home with me, to let her stay with me until I could get her placed in the system,” I said. “She and Hollie really hit it off – they were like sisters, almost instantly. I wanted to adopt her, but Krista wouldn’t have it. I think she was just worried that another mouth to feed would mean that she’d have to cut into her allowance.”
Steve rolled his eyes. “Yeah, your ex is a real piece of work,” he said.
“Yeah,” I agreed shortly. “Anyway, this kid, Paris, and Hollie stayed close. She’s twenty now. She stayed at my house over the summer, Hollie said she needed a place to crash and I wasn’t having it at first but apparently she had some kind of a job here and her foster family moved out of state.”
Steve’s eyes widened slightly and I felt a rush of guilt.
“Yeah,” I said bitterly. “You can see where this is going.”
“You fucked her?”
I sighed. “Not exactly. She ... well, that job of hers turned out to be stripping at the Pink Diamond, and I saw her one night while I was working. Turns out, she saw me, too.”
“Fuck, dude,” Steve said. “You’re kidding.”
I shook my head. “I kept trying to get her to quit, I was worried about Angel. She was that girl I took home after we busted the party at the hotel.”
“And then you fucked her?”
I looked down into my second drink. “We’d been sleeping together since the first night I saw her at the club. I took her fucking virginity. I let things get completely out of hand, but it’s over now, and I don’t want it to be. I still want her.”
Steve stared at me for a long moment before shaking his head. “Jesus,” he said. “You should be relieved it ended before Hollie found out. It would have ruined everything with her, and between her and that girl.”
I frowned. I knew he was right, but I didn’t want to admit it. Steve had always been wise, especially for a man from such a blue-collar background, but I found myself wishing that the wisdom in his words wasn’t true. I wanted her back. I wanted her to tell me what was wrong, why she felt that she had to leave the way that she had.
“Maybe I should have told her how I really felt,” I said slowly.
Steve shook his head. “Don’t,” he warned me. “Just trust me on this. It sucks, but you’ll get over it, and you’ll be better off in the long run.”
I knew he was right.
But that didn’t mean I didn’t wish things were different. If I had told Paris that I loved her, maybe she wouldn’t have left.
And now, I didn’t know if I’d ever get the chance.
24
Paris – Wednesday
One Month Later
A month had passed since I’d left Chicago.
Since I’d left Hollie and Harrison and everything I knew and loved and cared about.
I tried to tell myself that I was doing the right thing, that this was what was best for me and my baby.
But I was miserable all the time. Milwaukee wasn’t far from Chicago, only a couple of hours, but I may as well have been in a different world. I didn’t know anyone, and to be honest, I didn’t really care to. I’d pooled what had been left of my savings and moved into a small studio apartment. It was cheap and shabby, with peeling paint and water stains on the ceiling, but it was mine.
Not that I was proud of it, or anything like that. The entire apartment was smaller than one of Harrison’s rooms, and I had no idea how I was going to get everything that I needed for the baby. As I was already learning, baby stuff was expensive. At first, I’d been too proud of the idea of going to Goodwill until I’d gone to Target and seen the prices on things like bassinets and strollers. Even Wal-Mart had been too expensive for me. The stuff at Goodwill wasn’t fancy or classy, and some of it looked like it had already seen several infants through to adulthood, but it was what I could afford.
Finding a job with only three years of college had been difficult, and I was working as a temp, doing data entry for a pet insurance company during the day. When I wasn’t working with that, I drove for Lyft, a ride-sharing service, and Instacart, a grocery-delivery service. Every penny I made went into savings.
I was living on tips, eating as cheaply as I could while still hoping to nourish my baby. Back at MontClaire, Hollie and I had often joked about surviving college on Snickers bars and ramen. I looked back at those days with envy, the days where if we didn’t feel like eating the carb-heavy foods at the dining hall, we could just pool our cash and order a pizza. Those days seemed so far away now, like they had been a dream.
With every week, my belly seemed bigger. I was only a little over three months, but the panic had been settling in and growing more intense since I’d made the decision to leave. After I had the baby, I wouldn’t be able to work for at least a few weeks ... and even then, childcare was so expensive that I had no idea what I’d do. The temp job was slated to end in a month, and although the people at the staffing agency had been kind on the surface, I doubted they would put in a ton of effort trying to find a job for pregnant woman with no man.
Not to mention, I dreamt of Harrison nightly. Every time I closed my eyes, he was there, even when I was awake. I’d never be able to forget his handsome face, those stunning blue eyes. The traces of grey at his temples that I’d loved to run my fingers through after making love with him.
If it weren’t for the growing baby in my belly, I would have thought that I’d dreamt the whole thing. It was impossible, a man like him wanting a woman like me. But he’d made it clear that he hadn’t wanted me after all.
He’d just wanted my body.
And well, he’d gotten it.
In retrospect, I felt like a true idiot for not even thinking about condoms. In one of my biology classes, the professor had talked about how difficult it was to actually get – and stay – pregnant. Being a virgin with a regular period and no boyfriend in sight, it hadn’t ever made sense for me to get on birth control. But at the very least, I could have made sure that Harrison had worn a rubber.
Not that it mattered, now. I was having his baby, and I already loved the small creature growing inside of me. In m
y brief happy moments, I thought about what I’d name him or her. I wondered if the baby would favor Harrison, or instead inherit my auburn hair and green eyes.
It pained me to think of the child looking like both of us – like a reminder of everything I’d lost because I’d been too stupid to resist temptation. If only I’d been able to see Harrison as the man he was: kind and strong and generous, but not the kind of man who wanted a serious relationship ... especially not a serious relationship with someone twenty years his junior.
That night, I had just gotten home from my data entry temp job and taken a quick shower before changing into yoga pants and a loose shirt. I had been hoping to take a nap and heat up some instant soup before leaving to drive for Lyft. It was a Friday, and I’d found that if I played my cards right, I could usually catch groups of people on their way out for the evening. I was exhausted and I looked it, but I needed money and it wasn’t like I had a lot of options. Being a visibly pregnant Lyft driver was embarrassing, but not as embarrassing as the thought of calling my estranged foster family and asking them for money.
When I heard a knock on the door, I froze. For a moment, I panicked, thinking that it was my landlord and that somehow, rent was overdue. But then I remembered that I still had another week before I had to pay.
Great, I thought as I got up from the table and walked wearily over to the door. Someone pranking me, or one of those energy scams where they sell you light bulbs and keep your credit card information. After all, it’s not like I have any friends who would spontaneously drop by.
But when I opened the door, I didn’t see my landlord, or a scammer, or even a Mormon missionary.
It was Hollie.
My jaw dropped. “How ... how did you find me?” I gasped.
Hollie held up her iPhone, and I saw the Find My iPhone app was pulled up.
“You probably forgot that we programmed each other as emergency contacts for when we went to parties freshman year,” she said. “I’d forgotten, too.”
“I ... I don’t know what to say,” I said, my jaw still hanging open and my eyes wide. My heart was racing, and I knew that I had to invite her in, even if it meant losing out on my Lyft tips for the night ... and facing a hard conversation. Still, nervous as I was, seeing my best friend had buoyed my spirits immensely even though she’d only been here for a few seconds.
“Come in,” I said, stepping back from the door and putting a hand on my belly. Hollie followed me inside, and I flushed with embarrassment as I led her to the shabby couch that I’d found at a church yard sale.
“You want something to eat?” I asked, hoping that she’d decline.
Hollie held up a bag of something that smelled delicious. “I stopped at Portillo’s on the way,” she said, waving it under my nose. The smell of familiar food brought tears to my eyes and my stomach rumbled, despite having just finished a large bowl of instant soup.
“You’re a goddess,” I told her. Hollie was also carrying a cardboard tray with two milkshakes, and she handed one over to me as we sat down. I went into the kitchen and grabbed some paper towels, then returned and joined her on the couch.
Hollie, true to her generous form, handed me a big dipped beef sandwich with onions and peppers. I began scarfing it messily down, not caring about staining my shirt or lap. Hollie watched me eat, not asking any questions. When I was done, she passed me a carton of onion rings.
“I didn’t know what you’d want,” she said. “But I figured you’d want something to eat before we talked.”
I swallowed hard. “Thank you,” I told her. “That ... really hit the spot.”
Hollie nodded and her face grew serious and stern. “Why did you do it, Paris?”
I sighed softly.
“You left without a word,” Hollie continued. “And then a few days later, after I’d called you, you just sent a weird text saying that you were sorry and that you loved me.”
I nodded slowly, an ashamed flush creeping up the sides of my neck and my face.
“I’m really sorry,” I told her after an awkward silence had passed. I wiped my hand on a paper towel and then reached for Hollie’s. Holding her hand was comforting, and the simple human touch nearly brought tears to my eyes.
“Why?” Hollie asked. She looked so sad and confused that I felt my heart break.
“I ... I had to,” I said. “Hollie, I made so many mistakes. Mistakes that I kept secret from you because I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me. I couldn’t stand the thought of letting you down, you’re my best friend.”
Hollie shook her head. “Paris, you’re my best friend,” she echoed plaintively. “Don’t you know that I’d always support you?”
I bit my lip. “I lost my scholarship,” I admitted softly. “I didn’t do so well in one of my classes and my GPA went down and the professor wouldn’t give me extra assignments to bring my grade up. And so I had to find a job, and fast, and the only thing I figured would give me enough money to pay for classes was stripping.”
Hollie’s jaw dropped, but she didn’t say anything.
“And it just so happened that my first night, well, I saw your dad there at the strip club, because he was working on an undercover assignment.”
“Oh my god, you poor thing,” Hollie said. She pulled me into a tight hug. “You should have come to me!”
I burst into tears. Hollie hugged me, rocking me back and forth in her arms and stroking my hair like I was her daughter.
“I couldn’t,” I gasped between sobs. “I knew you had been dealing with so much since your parents split up, and I couldn’t give you any more bad news. I just felt like since I’d made so many mistakes, I had to handle everything on my own.”
Hollie pulled away and looked at me. Her face was creased with concern as our eyes met.
“I might have been disappointed, but opening a clinic and working together was our dream, not just mine,” Hollie said firmly. “If it doesn’t work for you, we’ll figure something else out.”
Her words just made me cry harder and I latched onto her again, hugging her harder than before. Soon, Hollie was crying too, and I felt a release of all the pent-up stress and anxiety that I’d been dealing with for what seemed like forever.
“I just missed having you in my life this summer,” Hollie said, pulling away and wiping her eyes on the backs of her hands. “And I thought it was my fault! I thought you were upset that I was going on so many dates and you were just working and staying at home.”
And sleeping with your dad, I thought, with a pang of guilt. I may have told Hollie some of the truth, but the biggest secret was still close to my vest.
“No,” I told her honestly. “That didn’t bother me at all, I’m just sorry that you felt guilty.”
Hollie frowned and put her hand on my belly. “I’m sorry to ask, but are you pregnant?”
I blushed, then gave a brief nod of my head. “Yeah,” I said sheepishly. “I know.”
“I can’t believe it,” Hollie said slowly. “Who’s the father? Do you have a boyfriend?”
I shook my head. “It ... well, it was a temporary thing,” I told her. “And the father isn’t in the picture. He doesn’t even know about the baby.”
Hollie’s eyes widened. “Wow,” she said. “Um, why haven’t you told him?”
I flushed hotly. “I don’t think he’d take the news well,” I said. “But I’m committed to raising the baby on my own, and always making her know that she’s loved.”
Hollie nodded fiercely. “Well, you know I’ll help whenever you need it,” she said. “No matter what happens.”
A rush of gratitude filled me and I hugged my best friend again, so relieved that we were back on speaking terms.
“You’re the best,” I told her. “Really.”
Hollie smiled at me, and it seemed that there was a touch of sadness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before this summer.
“You’re my best friend,” Hollie said. “And you always will be, okay?”
As fresh tears filled my eyes, all I could do was nod.
25
Harrison – Friday
In my entire fucking life, I didn’t think I’d ever been this miserable. After Krista had left me, I’d thought that my life had hit rock-bottom. I’d spent so much time drinking and staying locked inside of my own head that I’d literally felt myself withdraw from the world. The only person who had kept me sane had been Hollie, and even then I hadn’t been truthful with her about the circumstances of the divorce and I could tell that she was deeply angry with me.
But now, I realized that had been nothing compared to the hellish world I lived in now without Paris. I hated myself for being such a jerk: if only I’d been honest with her about my feelings. If only I’d told the truth about how I felt about her and agreed to tell my daughter about the true nature of my relationship with Paris.
Jesus, I was a fucking idiot. I deserved this. And more than just an idiot, I was an old man. It wasn’t like some young, nubile thing like Paris was going to come into my life again ... but that wasn’t what I wanted, either. I deserved to live a life of solitude and pain and misery. Paris deserved happiness, and I hoped that she was finding it.
Goddamn, being without her was so hard. I couldn’t stand it.
My work was suffering to the point where I was actually put on a performance improvement plan. Steve was trying to cover as much of the work as he could and shoulder the load, but there was simply too much. We were nearly at the end of wrapping up the case, a time that normally filled me with satisfaction.
Now, though, I just didn’t care. The only time I felt even remotely content was when I was buried deep in an Ambien-induced slumber. I’d gotten the prescription when Krista had left at the advice of a friend, but the pills had sat unused in the medicine cabinet for years. When Paris had vanished, I’d spent many sleepless nights, sneaking into the guest room as quietly as I could and sniffing for traces of her delicious floral scent. Every time I’d closed my eyes, I’d dreamt of her pale curves, her body naked and close to mine, her mouth kissing me and telling me that she loved me and saying my name.
