Identity

by Shawna Seed

  Elizabeth found herself charmed by Mitch as he prattled on about his granddaughter, but Brian was staring at the floor, his shoulders hunched, clearly miserable.

  “Francine said I’m supposed to find out do you want pot roast or chicken on Sunday, because if it’s pot roast I’ve got to get carrots and if it’s chicken I’m supposed to get… shoot! Something. Where’d I put that piece of paper?”

  A rustle came over the phone, the sound of Mitch searching his pockets.

  “Either’s fine,” Brian said. “You probably put the grocery list in your wallet.”

  There was a pause and more scuffling sounds. “Right you are, it’s here in my wallet. Well, if you don’t care, I’m going to tell her you said chicken.” Mitch’s tone was calm, but concern bobbed below the surface. “You sure you’re OK, son?”

  “Yeah,” Brian said. He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve been thinking about Kevin. When’s the last time you heard from him?”

  “Kevin?” Mitch seemed momentarily stunned, but he recovered quickly. “What brought this on, Brian? Have you heard from him?”

  “No,” Brian said quietly.

  Mitch sighed. “I do know he called your mother awhile back with some story about how he had a spot at a rehab place in California and would she wire him money for the plane. But she didn’t fall for it. You know he pulled the same stunt with your cousin Lisa.”

  “How’s Mom?” Brian’s voice was so soft Elizabeth could hardly hear him.

  “I didn’t talk to her,” Mitch said. “It was her husband who called. Apparently her golf game’s coming along.”

  Brian was quiet. His back rose and fell with his breathing.

  “Don’t do this to yourself, Brian. It’s enough that Kevin’s wasting his own life. Don’t let him waste yours, too,” Mitch said. “We’ve talked about this.”

  Brian exhaled, hard, and Elizabeth instinctively put her hand on his back.

  “I’m sorry, Dad. Sorry for everything that…”

  “You have nothing to apologize for, son. You know that,” Mitch said. “Tell you what – why don’t you come on over to the house? You can check on Coco yourself and then we’ll find a late ballgame to watch. You can stay over in the guest room.”

  Brian slowly shook his head. “I think I’m just going to go to bed. It’s late.”

  “Oh, c’mon. I’ll sneak into the kitchen and put on a pot of real coffee – not that decaf crap Frannie makes me drink,” Mitch said.

  “I’d better pass,” Brian said, his voice stronger. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Well, if you change your mind, call me,” Mitch said. “I’ll be up awhile once I get home.”

  “OK,” Brian said. “Give Coco a kiss for me.”

  “Oh, the pharmacy fella’s calling me,” Mitch said. “I love you, son. You get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be better.”

  “It’s hard talking to him, knowing what I know now about Kevin,” Brian said after he hung up. “I hate lying to him.”

  “You’re not responsible for this,” Elizabeth said. “Kevin is.”

  “I’m responsible for lying to him,” Brian said.

  Elizabeth looked around – at the guitars, Coco’s drawing, Brian’s neat desk. Brian had gutted his life and rebuilt it, just as sure as he was rebuilding his house. Now she’d come along to expose a section of rot he’d overlooked. Elizabeth was flooded with regret.

  “I shouldn’t have come here,” she said. “I should have found another way to do this. You’ve put together a good life, and I’ve ruined it.”

  “You didn’t ruin it,” Brian said. “Knowing you’re alive, that’s the thing I’ve wanted most for 20 years. It’s just… it’s just typical of my life, you know? The best possible news comes with the worst possible news.”

  Elizabeth winced. “I’m sorry.”

  “If my dad finds out what Kevin did, it’s going to destroy him,” Brian said. “And what about Ashley, finding out her dad killed someone? She’s only 20.”

  “Missy was only 20,” Elizabeth said, then immediately regretted it when she saw Brian’s expression.

  She tried to think of something to comfort him, but she knew there was nothing. What she was asking of him was difficult. She would not pretend otherwise.

  “Everybody’s going to think I knew this all along and let Kevin get away with murder,” Brian said. “What am I going to say? I was just sitting in my shop one day and thought, ‘Oh, you know, I bet that’s Kevin’s shirt that Missy had on when she died.’ ”

  “Maybe you can persuade Kevin to confess,” Elizabeth said.

  “I can’t remember the last time Kevin did the right thing.”

  He put his hands on his knees and made to get up. “Well, it is what it is. Whatever people think, whatever happens to me – it’s not like I’m an innocent victim.”

  He motioned for her to get up and began to wrestle with the futon. Brian finally hit the hinge right, and the bed dropped flat with a loud crack.

  Elizabeth flinched at the sound. “Brian, I’m so sorry. You deserved better.”

  Brian unfolded the sheets and began to make up the futon, his actions quick and rough. “Oh, I think I got what I deserved.”

  He stopped and looked at Elizabeth. “The thing that scares me is, ever since I got out, I’ve been able to count on my dad. And now… I just hope he can forgive me. Again.”

  TWELVE

  Elizabeth had intended to sleep in the guest room, but then Brian asked her – almost shyly – if she would sleep in his bed.

  “It doesn’t have to be anything else,” he said. “I just don’t want to feel alone right now.”

  Elizabeth knew exactly what he meant. Sometimes she thought she’d taken lovers just for the simple comfort of sharing a bed, the reassurance of another’s weight and heat and breath next to her in the dark.

  Elizabeth changed into her pajamas in the bathroom and brushed her teeth while Brian turned off lights and locked doors. When she got into bed, she instinctively chose the side she’d always taken with Brian, ever since that night when she’d walked into his room and told him she was cold.

  She’d often cringed at the way her relationship with Brian started. Naïve! Stupid! When she was feeling especially down on herself, she’d tell herself that any relationship so poorly considered was destined to bring trouble.

  But she found, to her surprise, that a few hours in Brian’s company left her feeling vindicated. Although she’d been 17 and lonely and desperate, her judgment on Brian hadn’t been so bad. He’d trusted the wrong people, but he was a good, decent man.

  She had not been wrong to love him.

  After a few hours, a nightmare woke her – rough hands pushing her down as she kicked and pleaded.

  Elizabeth sat up, gasping.

  It was always the same: the terror and the anger. And the guilt – always the guilt.

  Brian quieted her, as he had so many times before. “You’re OK, Shar,” he repeated over and over, until she came fully awake and aware of her surroundings.

  Only then did he touch her, putting his hand gently on her shoulder, urging her to lie back down. He’d learned the hard way – he’d reached for her too soon the very first time, and she’d fought him as though her life depended on it.

  Elizabeth put her head on Brian’s chest and let him put his arms around her. She listened to the slow thud of his heartbeat and waited. Brian had always been able to pull her from the strong, swift current where she thrashed into calm, peaceful water.

  He didn’t ask what the dream was about; he never had. He’d hold her and breathe and follow her lead.

  In the old days, she would occasionally drift easily back to sleep after a nightmare. Other times, she’d want to talk. The topic was never anything important – a book she was reading or whatever had happened that day at the diner. The point was to put something harmless at the center of her mind and crowd the bad thoughts into the corners.

  Sometimes talking wasn’t enough.
Sometimes she needed to push back against the ugliness, to be reassured that she wasn’t worthless, that the damage could be mended or at least overlooked.

  Twenty years had gone by, but Brian knew. Maybe it was a change in her breath or a subtle shift of her weight against him, but he knew.

  Not that. This.

  Again, Elizabeth had the sensation of closing her eyes and willing away the last 20 years.

  Afterward, wide awake despite the hour, they talked.

  “Right now, it feels like nothing ever changed between us,” Brian said, propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at her. “Is that weird?”

  Elizabeth smiled, because she’d just been thinking the same thing. “It’s like hearing an old song on the radio, and before you know it you’re singing along, even though you would have sworn you didn’t remember the words.”

  Brian stroked her cheek. “Your smile is even prettier than I remembered.”

  “That’s because I had my teeth straightened,” Elizabeth said, laughing.

  Brian turned serious. “There’s really not anyone in your life? How is that possible?”

  Elizabeth told him then about Eamon, who had loved her, and Wyatt, who might have if she’d let him.

  Brian told her about Kristen, and how he’d never been able to overcome his doubts and marry her. Then, once he’d let her go, he worried about whether he’d done the right thing.

  “That’s my whole life, right there,” Brian said. “Other people seem to know for sure what’s right for them, but I never have. It’s like when I was a kid, and everyone else could read and I couldn’t, and I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I just knew something was wrong.”

  “Other people are less sure than you think,” she said. “Most of them are faking it.”

  “You were always sure,” Brian said, “even when you were 17.”

  Elizabeth studied his face in the dark, searching for some sign he was teasing. She found none. “Did I seem that way? I think mostly I was sure what I didn’t want. I just wanted something different, and I had no idea exactly what it was or how to get it.”

  “But you have it now,” Brian said. “Right?”

  “I love my job,” Elizabeth said.

  “And you’re good at it, aren’t you?”

  “I am,” Elizabeth said, knowing that with Brian there was no need to demur. “But it wasn’t just that I wanted a good job so I wouldn’t be poor. I could stand being poor. What I couldn’t stand was not being respectable.”

  “I knew you’d be pissed about the drugs,” Brian said. “That’s why I was afraid to tell you.”

  “And now it turns out you’re the one living the respectable life,” Elizabeth said, “and I’m the one who’s a criminal.”

  When Elizabeth woke again, the sun was slanting through the blinds and Brian’s side of the bed was cold.

  She squinted at the bedside clock: 7 a.m.

  8 a.m. in Florida, she thought involuntarily.

  From down the hall, she heard the faint sound of a guitar. As she listened, the music stopped, then began again, a sequence repeated.

  Elizabeth thought about calling out to Brian. She could picture the scene: He’d amble down the hall and appear in the doorway, still a little disheveled from sleep, that grin on his face. They could spend the morning lazing in bed, just as they’d done 20 years earlier.

  She’d always had a weakness for Brian when he was disheveled, and she allowed herself to linger on that thought, but only for a minute or two. There would be no calling Brian back to bed.

  Elizabeth no longer believed that it had been a mistake to sleep with Brian, not exactly. But it could not happen again, she was sure of that. She would go back to her life and Brian would go back to his. He understood that, or would soon. He had to.

  By the time she’d finished showering and dressing, the music had stopped. She found Brian in the kitchen, staring out the window over the sink.

  “Hey,” she said softly, worried that she’d startle him.

  Brian turned, a smile on his face. He took in Elizabeth’s packed overnight bag at her feet and the smile slipped, just for a second.

  “I guess you’re hitting the road,” he said.

  “I have to be at work Monday morning,” Elizabeth said. “It’s a long drive.”

  “At your desk at 9 a.m. sharp, I guess.” His tone was breezy, but Elizabeth could see the effort behind it.

  “I usually get there at 8:45. I like to have time to get organized.”

  Brian chuckled. “Remember Joan, your old boss at the diner?”

  “Joan. Wow. There’s somebody I hadn’t thought of in a long time.”

  “She told the private detective you were the best worker she ever had, always on time. She felt terrible about firing you. She held onto your last check for a long time, hoping you’d come back for it.”

  Brian turned away and opened a cupboard. “Coffee will be ready in a second. You want some breakfast before you go? I have cereal. It’s cornflakes, though, not that one you like. Captain Crunch, isn’t it?”

  “Captain Crunch – wow. There’s another thing I haven’t thought of in a long time,” Elizabeth said.

  Brian took down two coffee cups. “I could make you some eggs.”

  “Two meals in a row cooked by you?” Elizabeth laughed. “That rates another ‘wow.’ ”

  She could tell immediately by the set of Brian’s shoulders that she’d said the wrong thing.

  “I’m sorry I was so useless when we were together, Shar.” Brian turned to face her, and the hurt in his eyes made Elizabeth want to look away. “I look back at the way I just sat around watching TV while you cooked and cleaned and did everything for me, and I can’t believe I did that. Every other stupid thing I did, at least I had a reason. But there was no reason for that. I was just lazy. You must have been so pissed at me.”

  “Really, I wasn’t,” Elizabeth said.

  That wasn’t entirely true. There had been a period in college when she’d been very angry with Brian, and not just because he’d made a money launderer out of her. She’d seethed about the inequality in their relationship.

  Over time, though, she realized that she’d taken on all those tasks and never asked for help. It would have been nice if Brian had done his share without being asked, but it wasn’t entirely fair to blame him. She could have spoken up.

  “I liked having our own little place,” she said. “And I actually liked cleaning. I was happy I didn’t have to live in chaos. Please don’t feel bad about that.”

  Brian poured a cup of coffee and handed it to her. “So, what’s it going to be? I make pretty good scrambled eggs. I can do bacon, toast…”

  “You really don’t need to cook,” Elizabeth said. “I should get going.”

  Seeing Brian’s disappointment, she added hastily. “Toast would be good.”

  It felt strange to be having an awkward conversation about the breakfast menu after she and Brian had been so honest with each other in the night.

  The problem, Elizabeth realized, was not Brian, but her. She could have left the packed bag in the bedroom. She’d wanted to send a clear message that there would be no lingering, but she’d overdone it, and Brian was hurt.

  She sat down at the table, to show that she wasn’t planning to grab her toast and bolt out of the house.

  Brian loaded bread in an ancient-looking toaster.

  “That toaster is quite something,” Elizabeth said, trying to make conversation.

  “I got it at a yard sale for a quarter,” Brian said. “It’s amazing how much perfectly usable stuff people are willing to junk because it’s got a scratch or something. As long as it’s not going to electrocute you, who cares what your toaster looks like?”

  Elizabeth could think of nothing to say in response.

  Brian got strawberry jam from the refrigerator and put it on the table. “I know you like peanut butter on your toast, but I’m out,” Brian said. “I had Coco one afternoon la
st week and I used the last of it in her PBJ.”

  Elizabeth hadn’t eaten peanut butter on her toast in a long time.

  Brian was bustling around, avoiding her eyes. She tried to think of a way to put him at ease.

  “I heard you playing this morning. It made me think of that summer you were learning ‘Jack and Diane.’ I thought you were going to wear the album out.”

  “Picking up something by ear is slow going,” Brian said, grabbing the toast as it popped up. “I’m a lot faster now that I can read music.”

  “You read music?” Elizabeth hoped she sounded impressed rather than incredulous.

  Brian put a plate on the table in front of her with two pieces of toast. “Some people with dyslexia can’t ever get the hang of it, but I did.”

  Elizabeth thought he was going to fix his own breakfast then, but instead he pulled out a chair and sat.

  “I know you want to get on the road, so I’ll get to the point. You don’t have to worry about this situation,” Brian said. “I’ll handle it. Right now, I’m leaning toward giving Kevin a chance to do the right thing before I go to the police. But that’s something I want to discuss with my dad first.”

  Elizabeth was taken aback. She’d expected he’d want more time to think about it.

  “How will you explain to your dad about suspecting Kevin killed Missy?”

  “I don’t know,” Brian said. “I don’t want to lie to him again, ever. But I won’t drag you into it, I promise. You can leave the gun, too. Just put it on the shelf in the garage before you pull your car out.”

  “I thought you could get in a lot of trouble for being a felon with a gun?”

  “I’ll figure out some way to get rid of it,” Brian said.

  “I don’t want you to be in trouble, Brian.”

  Brian shrugged. “I’m responsible for this mess, not you. Don’t worry – I’ll be careful.”

  Elizabeth felt guilty, as though she’d unfairly dumped everything in Brian’s lap.

  “You can go back to Florida and be Elizabeth Ellsworth knowing nobody’s looking for you and you don’t ever have to think of this again, if that’s what you want,” Brian said.