The vision lasts no longer than one heavy breath, but it’s there, and it’s clear, and I can see it. I’ve never wanted anything so badly in my entire life.
I take another breath, and this one is full of hope, more than I’ve ever had before.
Elliot shifts away from me and I settle back, rocking onto my heels and rising.
He’s not looking at me.
“Elliot.”
He shakes his head, jerking his jeans up over his hips, tucking his penis away and zipping the fly.
“Elliot, talk to me.”
“I can’t,” he says. His gravelly voice seems to be coming from far away, though he’s still standing right in front of me.
He sidesteps to avoid touching me, and it hurts worse than any blow he’s landed today, but he’s not done yet.
Elliot’s halfway across the garage when he turns his head. He’s not facing me, not even looking at me, but throwing the words back at me like a parting shot.
“I can’t do this without her,” he says.
And then he’s gone.
It’s so fucking cold out here. I don’t know how long I stand there, the smell of sex in the air, the taste of him in my mouth. But it’s so fucking cold. I don’t think I’ll ever be warm again.
24
Joelle
The phone chirps again from its perch on the charging deck in Connie’s kitchen and it makes me want to scream. I don’t dare turn it off. Despite the fact that Dad won’t talk to me right now, I’d never forgive myself if there was an emergency and I missed the call.
He’s got his own ringtone, so I know it’s not him this time. No, that particular chime got programmed in for the two men whose names I refuse to say.
I don’t check the text, which I expect will be about the tenth one today asking me whether I’m okay.
I’m not, and they both know it, so I don’t bother to answer.
Instead, I’m working. It’s not the kind of work I really get paid for, unfortunately, but it’s the work I love. At least, I loved it when I started, but this damn pastry dough keeps bricking up on me.
You’d think with as cold as it is right now, I’d have no trouble keeping my fingers cool enough to work the butter in properly, but I still keep mucking it up somehow. I mull the time it’ll take to switch recipes for this week’s post. I could just give it up and go watch TV like a normal human, but I won’t. I can’t.
If I stop moving, I’ll break.
The blog’s been coasting by on pre-scheduled posts and reruns of old favorites, but now that I’m once again unemployed, there’s no excuse not to get back to posting regularly. There’s still a lot of engagement in the comments and plenty of traffic, which is reassuring. Maybe only most of my life has gone to shit, not all of it like I thought.
I really hate the pitying voice in my own head, but makes for a nice change from the all the crying.
The doorbell rings and I pitch the lump of useless flour in the trash on my way to answer it. Connie didn’t tell me she was expecting a delivery or anything, but I better at least look. Force of habit compels me to check the peephole before opening the door, and thank God.
It’s not the post office. It’s my dad.
I blink a few times, unconvinced. Nope, he’s still there. I yank open the door.
“Dad,” I say. He gives me a small smile.
“Hey Jo,” he says. “How are you?”
Jesus. Small talk? But I guess it’s a step. I pull the door all the way open and gesture him in.
“Come on in,” I say. “Before we both freeze.”
I close the door behind him as he shucks off his coat. He looks good. More… robust than the last time I saw him. Somebody’s been feeding him well.
“How are you doing?” I ask him, after we both sit down in the living room.
“I’m… good,” he says, so thoughtfully that I believe him.
“That’s good to hear.”
“How are you, Jo?” he asks again. “You didn’t answer me before.”
“I’m…” The question almost makes me laugh. I don’t even know how to begin to answer him. “I’m okay.”
“Staying busy, I guess. With the job and everything.”
“Do you want something to drink?” I say by way of answering. I stand up, ready for any excuse to leave the room and avoid that question.
“I’m okay, thanks. You don’t have to wait on me,” he says, his eyebrows coming down.
“If you’re looking for Connie—”
“Damn it, Joelle,” he says, startling me. He grabs my hand and tugs me to sit on the couch. “I’m not here to be waited on and I’m not here to see Connie. I came here to apologize.”
I swallow but don’t respond.
“Look,” he says, rubbing his hands together for warmth or to work out his nerves, I can’t tell which. “I owe you an apology. You said some reasonable things the other day—” he holds up a hand to stave off my protest. “You did. I couldn’t listen to it at the time, but you were right.”
“Um, thanks.” This is unexpected, to say the least. “Are you okay, Dad? Should I be worried?”
He snorts. “Connie said you wouldn’t believe me.”
Say what? Dad catches my confusion and sighs.
“Connie came to see me yesterday,” he said. “She hasn’t been over since you… um, started staying here with her.”
“Since you kicked me out,” I say, since apparently I’m not over being childish just yet.
Dad’s cheeks darken and I regret my immaturity right away. He’s here, and we’re talking, and he’s already said I’m right. Why pour salt in the wound?
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, squeezing his hand. “What else did Connie say?”
He laughs a little. “What didn’t that woman say? Let me put it this way,” he says, half a smile on his face. “There’s only six words I never use, and she used every one of them on me yesterday. Twice.”
My eyebrows hit my hairline. “She called you a—”
“Think again, young lady,” he says with a glare. “Just because she said them doesn’t mean you have to.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Anyway,” he continues. “Connie reminded me of a few points that maybe I hadn’t really considered until the two of you brought them to my attention.”
“Okay.” I still can’t believe he let Connie talk to him like that.
Dad clears his throat and looks away.
“Specifically, that you were right. It’s my life, my recovery. If I don’t take ownership of it, who will?”
Relief hits me so hard that tears are falling before I even realize they were ever coming on. Dad jolts at the sudden outburst of emotion.
“Oh, honey, please don’t,” he says. He hates to see me cry even under normal circumstances. I don’t want to make him feel helpless again, not when he finally seems to realize he’s not, so I breathe through it and blot the tears away with the back of my hands.
It’s another minute or two before I find my voice.
“Do you mean it?”
Dad nods. “I talked with Jim and Jessica. They’re going to help me work on getting out of the house more. We’ve already started having sessions at the gym across the street.”
I throw my arms around him, unable to keep the tears at bay any longer.
“I’m so glad,” I whisper. “I’m so proud of you.”
I hear a discreet sniffle somewhere near my shoulder as he pats me on the back. I squeeze him hard one more time then let him go, smiling as I dry my eyes this time.
“So do you think you can stand living with your old man a little while longer?”
I reach over to squeeze his hand.
“I’d be glad to,” I say, meeting his eyes. “But only for a little while this time, I think. Will you help me find an apartment?”
His surprise is obvious.
“If that’s what you want,” he says.
“I think it’s time,” I tell him. “You don�
��t need me around all day every day anymore.”
“And you’ll be busy with work and school, too, soon enough,” he says, nodding slowly. He smiles. “I hope you know you’re welcome back home any time. I’ll keep your room ready, just in case apartment life doesn’t suit you.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I lean in for another bear hug.
“I have to say, I was surprised when Connie told me you’d be here today. Did your schedule at the restaurant change?”
“In a manner of speaking,” I say, fixing my gaze out the window. “I, um… I don’t work there anymore.”
“What? Are you kidding?”
I shake my head. “It just… it didn’t work out.”
“What does that mean? Did you get fired?”
“No,” I tell him, wrapping my arms around my body. “We just… we weren’t a good fit.”
Of all the lies I’ve ever told in my life—and I like to think there aren’t that many, but I mean in my whole, whole life, ever—I suspect this one is the biggest.
“Bullshit,” says Dad. I actually laugh.
Because he’s right. That’s about the biggest crock of shit I’ve ever heard, much less uttered. Nothing and nobody fit together like me and that kitchen.
Except Elliot and Alex and me. But clearly I was lying to myself about that, too.
I squeeze my arms tighter.
“It’s okay,” I tell Dad. “I made enough contacts at Duckbill, so I shouldn’t have a problem finding more work.”
Dad’s shaking his head at me. I can tell he wants to argue, but he doesn’t want to upset me all over again.
“If you say so,” he says. We sit in silence for a minute, then Dad speaks up again.
“So Connie mentioned something about your boyfriend. Anything you want to tell me?”
This time when I burst into tears, I can’t make it stop.
25
Elliot
It’s nearly two in the morning when I finally pull up to the curb at Duckbill. The open sign has been shut off, as have most of the dining room lights. I can see the kitchen light still burning, which means Anna’s still closing the place up. Perfect.
I’ve been driving so long my ass is numb. I need out of this car and a drink. Many drinks.
It didn’t seem right going back to my apartment at Alex’s house, not after… what happened earlier.
My face goes hot and I shove the memory away. I see Anna moving around near the door, so I lock up my car and hurry for the door. I don’t know when it got so damn cold out, but I swear I feel icicles forming across the scruff of my beard.
I don’t want to startle her more than necessary by banging on the door so I wait until Anna turns my way to wave at her. She pushes the door open, letting me squeeze past her before she yanks it shut again.
“You know, boss, there’s this thing called texting,” she says, rubbing her arms.
I probably should have thought of that instead of just showing up here after hours like this. I shrug.
“Had a change of plans,” I say instead. “Are you done for the night?”
Anna nods.
“Just double checking the locks up here. I’m parked out back.”
“I’ll walk you out,” I tell her, following her back through the kitchen doors.
“Something wrong?” she asks, pulling on her coat and scarf.
“Just couldn’t sleep,” I tell her, not meeting her eyes. “Thought I’d get a jump on tomorrow’s inventory.”
The lie turns my stomach. There wouldn’t be any more inventory or orders. But the staff didn’t know that yet.
“Need some company?” Anna asks. She looks uncomfortable asking, but I chalk it up to the late hour. Nobody wants to get roped into overtime at 2am.
“Nah, but thanks,” I tell her. “Do you need to warm up your car?”
Anna waves her keys at me.
“Remote start,” she says.
“Nice.”
I prop the door open and walk with her, waiting at the curb as I watch her buckle up and pull away with a wave. Anna’s a good kid. Pretty in a homespun way, though she never caught my eye the way Joelle did. I knew from the get-go Anna was going places. Duckbill was only a pit stop for her.
* * *
Of course, turns out the restaurant was only a pit stop for any of us. Even me.
The thought has me heading for the bar.
For once, I don’t spend any time worrying about how to cover the cost of the bottle in the next liquor order. I just snag the best whiskey in the house, grab a tumbler, and post up at the bar, staring up at the black flat screen TVs mounted on the wall ahead of me.
Nothing to new see here, folks. Just another jackass who’s lost everything he ever loved.
* * *
The first shot burns going down and as a warm glow blooms in my stomach, I stop worrying so much about how cold it is in here without the kitchen fires going.
‘Cause that’s the crux of it all, isn’t it? I fell in love with this place. I fell in love with Joelle. And somehow, I managed to develop feelings for Alex that have nothing and everything to do with the years of friendship between us.
My hand trembles as I pour another shot.
It’s more than that now, though, isn’t it? Here, alone in the dark, I’ve quite literally got nothing else to lose, so I can look at that part inside myself and call it for what it is.
I love him, too. I don’t know when it changed. He’s my best friend. I’ve loved him for years. But somewhere along the line, something shifted and now I love him.
I’m in love with him. With them both.
I scrub my hands over my face before pouring the next shot. This one goes down a little easier, and that glow keeps spreading, all the way down to my toes.
I’ve already lost them both.
My hand is moving for the bottle again when I hear somebody pounding on the front door.
“This is serious horseshit,” I mutter, heading for the door, keys in one hand, cell phone in the other. It wouldn’t be the first time we got a crazy drunk looking to get in after hours.
The irony of my intentions to get falling-down-drunk is not lost on me but I’m not in the mood to be amused, so I punch in 911 on my mobile, holding my thumb over the ‘send’ button.
A moment later, I close dialer to hold open the door for my brother, same as Anna had done for me just a few minutes ago.
“Jesus Christ, El,” says Steve, waving a hand in front of his nose. “Is there any booze left in this place?”
“Fuck off, bro.” I pull the door shut and secure the lock. “What the hell are you doing here? Is Cheryl okay? The kids?”
He waves the same hand dismissively.
“They’re fine, we’re all fine,” he says. “Only, Alex is worried about you and he made me promise I’d track you down if you didn’t turn up on my doorstep tonight. You’re lucky tomorrow’s my day off, pal, or there’d be hell to pay.”
“In that case, I expect you want a drink,” I say, ignoring what hearing Alex’s name does to my insides.
“Fucking A,” says my brother. He follows me to the bar. I grab another tumbler and pour us both a round.
“What are we drinking to?” he asks.
“Hell. Let’s raise a glass to Duckbill.” I raise my drink and Steve follows suit.
“Forever may she wave,” he says. “Or reign. Or whatever.” The glasses clink when he taps his against mine and the whiskey goes down about as smoothly as a glass of nails this time.
“What?” asks Steve. I shake my head.
“I’m done,” I say, dropping my eyes to the glass in my hands as I huff out a ragged breath. “I’m out.”
“The fuck are you talking about?”
“Duckbill,” I say. “We’re going out of business.”
“Fuck,” says Steve. “Fuck! When?”
“Friday.”
“Shit, man.” Steve lands a heavy hand on my shoulder. “I’m so fucking sorry. Is that why you’re getti
ng drunk in a closed bar by yourself?”
I snort.
“For real, though,” he continues. “Alex sounded really worried. You guys have a fight or something?”
I shrug. “Not exactly,” I say.
Steve is quiet for a minute.
“So I’m going to take a flying leap here and guess there’s a girl in this story somewhere.”
I laugh, and it sounds pained even to my own ears.
“Yes? Yes, there’s a girl,” says Steve. He claps his hands and rubs them together. “Excellent. I’m good at this part. Lay it on me.”
I laugh, this time for real.
“You’re such an asshole,” I tell him.
“You’re welcome,” he says. “I love you too. Now tell me about her already.”
I sigh.
“Her name is Joelle,” I say. “She was working here for a while.”
“An employee? You?” says Steve. “Get out of here.”
I want to smile at that, but it fucking hits me where I live. “Yeah, she was. Sort of. She’s the one who came up with the new menu,” I tell him. I’m still so damn proud of her for all her hard work. Does she know that? Did I ever tell her? I can’t remember.
“So what happened? She quit, or what?”
“Ah…” Shit. “That’s not quite the end of the story.”
“O—kay?”
“There was somebody else involved.”
“Damn, man, she cheated?” I shake my head. Steve’s eyebrows just about clear the ceiling. “You cheated? Dude.”
I shake my head again.
“You’re gonna have to spell it out for me, El. I’m not tracking, here.”
I pour two more generous portions in our glasses and take a deep breath.
“I mean, there was a third person. In the relationship. We were all together, the three of us.”
I glance over at Steve to gauge his reaction. His eyes have gone so wide I’m afraid he’s going to hurt himself. His mouth moves like he’s trying to talk but no sound comes out.
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