by Renee Fowler
That’s how my mom went too, and I’m damn lucky I’m not the one that found her. It’s the kind of memory I’d hate to be stuck with forever.
***
At noon the next day, I head to the bank with two grand tucked into my pocket. It’s probably the most I can pay in cash without setting off alarms somewhere, but the girl behind the counter still gives me a wary glance as she looks up the account for me, then counts out the stack of twenties I slide over.
Her look of suspicion probably has as much to do with my messed up face as anything else. My eye is less swollen today, but it’s darkened into a purple bruise now, and my lip is scabbed over.
Buck gave me a talking to this morning when I got to the garage. I guess he thinks I’ve fallen back into bad habits, fighting, drinking, and carrying on the way I used to.
If he had any real inkling to what I’m putting myself in the middle of, Buck would’ve probably tried to knock some sense into me with the nearest available tool. I’m not sure if explaining Tori’s predicament would do a damn thing to quell his anger either. Buck is my uncle from my mom’s side, and he’s always hated that shit. He blamed my dad for her death, and the truth is, so do I.
The girl behind the counter gives me a weak smile, and hands over a receipt for my payment. I stuff it in my pocket, and turn to go. Just as I’m leaving out the door at the front of the bank, a tall, lanky guy in a dark suit is coming in.
Because of the sun’s angle I don’t immediately recognize him, but when his features become clear, I’m instantly enraged.
Before I can stop myself, I reach out and grab a fistful of fabric at his chest and use it to march him backwards. I fling him against the brick exterior of the atrium that leads into the building. “You mind explaining what the hell you’ve been doing to Tori?”
“Excuse me?”
“You left your fucking handprint on her arm, you piece of shit.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t play dumb, asshole. I better not hear about you messing with her again, and she’s not interested in having your little dick anywhere near her either.”
He gives me a sly smile. “She was plenty interested in it before.”
I shove him back against the wall again. “I told you years ago to stay the fuck away from her, and you should’ve listened.”
“Victoria is a grown woman. She can make her own choices.”
Victoria? I’ve never heard anyone call her that outloud before, and I blink a few times. “From what I hear, she already made her choice. Tori doesn’t want to be with you, or have your baby. She doesn’t need your money either, so it’s time for you to back the fuck off.”
Chris holds his hands up. “I was just trying to help her out. I know she’s in a tough spot right now.”
“Bullshit. Stay the hell away from her, Chris. I’m not kidding. Keep it up and I’m going to tell her exactly what happened that night. Is that what you want?”
The muscles along his neck work as he swallows. “That was a long time ago. You were under the influence, and I’m not sure if you’re remembering things clearly.”
“Oh, I remember.” I grab his tie, and use it as leverage to slam him up against the wall one more time. “I wasn’t that drunk, and I know what I saw. I swear to god, I should’ve killed you that night.”
A middle aged mom walking with two little kids approaches, and I let him go. He gives me a wry smile. “I suggest you leave before I have security escort you off the premises.”
I hold my hands up and take a step back away from him. I don’t need any trouble, especially now. The name of the game for the next few months is to lay low and fly under the radar.
Chapter Twenty-One
Tori
With everything else going on, buying more envelopes for Brandon completely slipped my mind, but he reminds me when he gets home from school the next day.
Abby is working when I go into the grocery store. She waves, then makes a motion for me to come over. “I tried to call you.”
“Sorry. I got a new phone. I’ve been meaning to come in and get your number again. Brandon loved playing with Riley. We’ll have to do that again soon.”
Abby’s smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah, we should, but I actually wanted to talk to you about something else.”
I stand there and wait while she checks out a customer, then she turns to me and gives a small pout. “Rachel passed away.”
“She did?” I barely remember my former best friend. I can vaguely recall her from middle school, but I’m shocked to hear she died at such a young age. “What happened?”
“Remember how I told you she was a photojournalist? I guess she was covering some extreme sports story in Europe somewhere, and she had an accident. She was up on this ledge, trying to get a shot, and she fell over a barrier.”
My hand shoots up to my mouth. “Oh, my god. That’s awful.”
“Yeah, it really is. I know you don’t really remember her, but I thought you might want to come to the funeral. You two were so close, and I know her family would appreciate it.”
“Uh… Sure, I guess I can try to come.”
Abby scribbles her number down for me again, and I promise to call her for details later.
***
The following day I’m still a bit ambivalent about attending this funeral, but my dad raised me believing it was important to pay respects, so I drive out to the church on the other side of town alone. The parking lot is packed, and I have to circle around a bit to find a spot.
Inside I take a seat in the very back just as services are starting. Near the front of the small church there is a decorative, brass urn surrounded by flowers and large, blown up pictures of Rachel. She was pretty, with dark, blunt bangs that ended just above her arched eyebrows. Her bright, blue eyes sparkled with intelligence as she smiled wide.
She doesn’t resemble the much younger Rachel I barely remember. Abby said we were best friends through most of high school, but she also mentioned we had a falling out. I wonder if we ever made up. I hope so. In either case, that was years ago, and she’s gone now.
I’ve never been to a funeral for someone as young as me before, and it’s a little surreal. According to Abby she plummeted to her death over the side of a steep, craggy mountainside. That could’ve easily been me, I realize with a sick feeling. I came so incredibly close to dying that night.
There were plenty of times shortly after my accident when I wished I had died, a sentiment that embarrasses me now. Despite my struggles and limitations, and all the years I spent floundering around aimlessly before finally making my way back home, I’m incredibly thankful that I got this second chance. It’s a shame Rachel wasn’t so lucky, but based on her eulogy, she left this world doing what she loved.
I originally planned on ducking out after the service, but Abby spots me, and rushes over to say hello. She introduces me to her husband, and explains that they left Riley at home with her parents. “Where’s Noah?” she asks. “I thought he might come with you?”
“He had a prior commitment,” I explain. He’s been working crazy hours for his cousin, in addition to his normal duties at the garage.
“That’s too bad,” Luke says. “I haven’t ran into him for a while. How’ve you been, Tori?”
By the familiar way he addresses me, I guess we knew each other. And he’s not the only one. More than one person pauses to say hello in the church foyer. I don’t look that different from high school, and I’ve been gone for years. This is the first time most of these people are seeing me since my accident.
It’s weird, a little uncomfortable, but not as bad as I feared. In any case, I’m going to need to get used to it since I’m staying in town. I’m bound to run into these people again in the future, so I’m careful to try and remember names and faces.
“Are you coming to the wake?” Abby asks.
“I don’t think so. I really need to get back. We’re so busy this ti
me of year.”
Luke nods. “Yeah. I remember working out there for your dad a few summers.”
I suddenly have a very vivid memory of a much young Luke in a pair of dirty jeans, and a white T-shirt soaked with sweat. Blinking a few times, I’m almost shocked to find the memory stuck. As I say farewell to Abby and Luke, I wonder if the memory will stick for good.
I’ve had a few new memories recently, nothing big or very substantial. What’s different is these memories haven’t completely faded into obscurity after a few short moments.
I’m choosing not to read too much into it. A scant number of minor details from my past are bound to come bubbling to the surface again here and there. It’s probably just due to being back in town again after so long, and bumping into so many old familiar, yet unfamiliar faces from years ago.
I’ve almost reached my truck when I hear the scrape of shoes behind me. Turning around, I spot Christian. I don’t even bother to hide the displeasure from my face.
“I thought that was you,” Christian says smoothly, coming to stand right next to me.
“What do you want?”
Christian purses his lips together and squints against the slanted, afternoon light. He reaches up to scratch behind his ear, one of his few nervous ticks he ever let show.
Suddenly it’s not Christian standing in front of me, but Chris sitting beside me. He’s much younger, with his blond hair longer than I can ever remember him wearing it, curling over and around his face in gentle waves. He’s not reaching up to scratch behind his ear, but he’s jamming a small, white headphone in his ear, and holding the other out for me. Orange-gold light spills in through the window behind him, and we’re sitting side by side on a bus. Not a school bus. We’re higher up than that, and the seats are cushioned. It’s like a coach bus, I think. I fit the earbud in and listen to the unfamiliar music laced with a strong bassline. “What do you think?” Chris asked in a voice that isn’t quite as deep as I am used to hearing.
“Are you listening to me?” Christian asks, a note of impatience evident in his voice.
I blink up at him, and rub my hands over my cheeks, waiting for that memory to dissipate. I’m shocked that it seems to be sticking too. “I just remembered us on a bus. We were sitting together on a coach bus, and you had me listen to some song.” I start to hum the melody under my breath.
“You remember that?”
“I’ve been having some new memories the last few days.”
“That’s wonderful.” Christian’s smile appears forced. “Have you remembered anything else?”
“A few small things. Nothing big. Do you know where we were going?”
He shrugs. “It might’ve been a school trip. I’m really not sure.”
I give my head a slight shake. This many years after the fact, it hardly matters. “Sorry. What were you saying?”
“I was explaining that your friend Noah just stopped in yesterday to make a sizeable cash payment on your loan.”
“Uh, he did?”
“Yes. He did, and due to his past history, I thought you should know. I would hate to see you caught up in some type of money laundering scheme.”
“Money laundering?” My laugh rings out around the parking lot. “Christian, will you give it a rest already? I know that you don’t like Noah, but this is silly.”
“It has nothing to do with my personal feeling about him. I’m just giving you fair warning.”
I had no idea that Noah planned to pay towards that loan. He never told me, and it’s not his debt to repay, but I’d rather discuss it with Noah than Christian. “Well, thanks for the heads up, I guess. Is that all you wanted to talk to me about?”
Christian grabs my wrist lightly, and peers down at my forearm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”
I jerk my hand away. “It’s no big deal. I always bruised easy.”
He nods and scratches behind his ear again. “I guess this will be the last time we see each other for a while.”
“Are you going home?”
“For a few days, just to tie up some loose ends, put the house on the market and such, then I’m moving.”
“Where to?” I ask casually, silently hoping he’s not going to say here.
“I’m taking a job in New York.”
“That’s nice. That’s always where you wanted to live.”
Christian stares at me intensely. “If you need me, I’m just a phone call away.”
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”
He wraps his arms around me in a tight hug that completely catches me off guard. “Please be careful,” he says. “There’s so much you don’t remember about Noah.”
“Like what?”
“I already told you most of it, but I guess you don’t want to believe me.”
I extricate myself from his arms, and flatten my back against the door of my truck. “People change, Christian. You can’t hold someone accountable for things they did years ago.”
He quirks his eyebrows up at me. “History has a bad way of repeating itself. Past behavior is the best predictor of future behavior.”
“Seriously?” I roll my eyes in disbelief. “I can’t believe you have the audacity to say something like that to me. Christian, you lied to me for two whole years. I’ll never trust a thing that you say again.”
“No matter what you may think, that wasn’t done with malicious intent. I was only trying to protect you.” Shaking his head, he holds his palms out towards me. “Nevermind, but don’t say I didn’t try to warn you about Noah.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Noah
“I haven’t been showing you enough TLC here lately, have I girl?”
Lola’s tongue hangs out of her mouth, and she wags her tail, poised for me to toss the toy to her again. I wing it across my tiny backyard, and she bounds after it through the grass that is a touch too high. I’ve been too busy to cut it here recently.
I collapse back on the lounge chair and wait for Lola to bring the fluorescent green squeaky ball back to me. Between days at the garage, and nights running jobs for Trevor, I’m fucking beat.
It’s only for a little while, I remind myself, although my cousin is already hinting that he wouldn’t mind me sticking around longer. In his opinion, I ought to bail on my job at the garage and work for him full time, make some real money.
That’s all it is to him, money.
What good is money if you don’t have your freedom?
Sitting in county jail for ninety days that once was plenty for me, thank you very much. Being caged up with a bunch of idiots and lunatics is about enough to make a man lose his mind. Willing the clock to move faster somehow had the opposite effect. The minutes felt like hours. The hours felt like days. That three month stint could’ve been three years, and I swore to myself I’d never find myself in that place again.
There isn’t one single other person on the planet I would take this risk for, but I can’t let her find out. Tori would never understand why I’m doing this. She’s good through and through, and to someone like her, the ends don’t always justify the means.
My phone rings from the nearby table. I pick it up expecting to see Trevor’s name, but instead it’s Tori. I almost don’t want to answer. Not that I don’t want to talk to her, but hiding all this is really starting to weigh on me. In the end I can’t ignore her call. “What’s up babe?”
“I was hoping I could swing by so we could talk, but I guess you’re not home.”
“I’m here.”
“Oh, I didn’t see your bike.”
“Yeah, I got rid of it.”
“Huh? You did?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Why? Nevermind. Do you care if I stop in?”
“Not a bit. I’m out back. The front door is unlocked.”
Lola leaves her toy, and wanders over to lay her head on my lap. She can always tell when I’m feeling down. “It’s gonna be okay,” I tell her, although I’m not entirely sure of tha
t at the moment. As long as I can get through these next few months without getting myself killed or caught, everything's gonna be perfect.
My cell rings again. This call must be Trevor I think with a sinking feeling, but I’m wrong again. It’s Natalie. I sit up slowly, and brace myself for the news as I reach to answer the phone.
The sliding glass door swishes open, and Tori comes through. She’s wearing a fitted, black dress that hits right above her knees, and sheer black pantyhose underneath. Lola immediately rushes over to greet her.
“Thanks for letting me know,” I say into the phone, and I hang up. “It’s not my baby.”
“That must be a relief,” Tori says.
All I can do is nod as I let out a long breath.
She wanders over and takes a seat across from me, crossing one leg demurely over the other. Tori looks a bit relieved herself, but her face scrunches up. “Are you a little sad?”
“That the baby isn’t mine?”
“Yeah.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Nah. I told you I barely know Natalie, and… Hell, the fact that she was cheating on her husband with a few different guys doesn’t make me want to get to know her.”
“Don’t you want to have kids?”
“One day. With the right person.” I reach over and trace a finger down the runner Lola scratched in her hose when she jumped up on her. There’s more I’d like to say, but I’ve been making a conscious effort not to talk too seriously about the future with Tori. Like she said, to her we’ve only known each other a little over a month.
“I don’t want any,” Tori says decidedly, kicking her foot out lightly.
I wrap a palm around her ankle, holding her leg still. “Since when?”
“What happened to you hand?” She lightly touching my swollen, bruised knuckles.
