Kismet (22 page)

After living off Chef Boyardee for a week my heart hurts far worse than I thought it would. Seven days of depressed isolation and I still don’t know what to feel. At first, I’m pissed as all hell, then creeps in the devastation, complete with a touch of loneliness. It’s confusing beyond belief. I can’t seem to make head nor tail of it all.

I miss Katie.

Having gotten used to having her around again, I’ve been spoiled, but my anger clouds my ability to think straight. What she did, the decision she made… it wasn’t hers to make. And the hurt. I can’t even begin to describe what it feels like. The loss of someone so special, someone I didn’t even know I had, is just more than I can bear.

The apartment looks like shit. The sink is full of dishes and open, half-eaten cans of ravioli and spaghetti-o’s cover the counter. The clothes I’m wearing are the same ones I wore a few days ago. I’m tired of feeling bad for myself. Sitting here is doing nothing but making me feel worse so I decide to get up and clean a bit.

It takes me a few hours to get the place presentable, well according to my standards at least—I never have been much of a cleaner. Once I’m satisfied with the place, I decide it’s time to clean myself, and it’s there in the shower that the itch strikes me. The one I haven’t scratched since I laid eyes on Katie again. I’ve been using her presence to intoxicate me as of late, but without her by my side I’m scared of what the night might bring.

My skin crawls as another craving strikes. Wearing nothing but my towel wrapped around my waist, I nervously pace the apartment.

I know what I should do. I should call him and tell him what I’m feeling. He’ll be able to talk me through it, keep me from making a terrible mistake. But I just don’t care. I want to numb it all, to escape her again, like I had for the last seven years.

I end up in the bathroom, my hands propping myself up from the sink, and I stare into the mirror. I focus on breathing, trying to stay in the present. Trouble is, now my present and my past are equally painful. I have no escape, nowhere to seek solace. My heart pounds as a bead of sweat forms on my upper lip. I’m slowly losing my cool… all over again.

This isn’t unfamiliar territory by any means. When Katie left for college, she took a piece of my heart with her, no doubt about that. I was prepared for her to go off and make something of herself, waiting for the day that she’d come back. I knew once that happened that I’d be ready to be with her. Everything I ever did was for her—looking out for her best interests, wanting what was best for her. What I hadn’t expected was for her to go and move on so quickly. I had no idea what she was doing of course, but it was then that I truly self-destructed.

An endless string of female visitors. The booze. The occasional joint. The list of indiscretions was never-ending, and the reputation that preceded me was far from honorable, but it had always been about her. Well, about trying to forget her. Even those closest to me, Tommy in particular, didn’t truly understand me and my self-destructive ways. Knowing that alcoholism ran in my family, Tommy tried getting me help on multiple occasions, but I could never seem to find the motivation to give up the bottle. That was, until Katie came back.

But now this. This is more than I can handle, and my skin crawls, my body craving a taste. Giving in will be like opening Pandora’s box, but I can’t cope with this information.

I have a daughter.

Correction—I
had
a daughter.

A little person who was part me, and part the girl I love. A daughter I never had the chance to know.

Anger swells within me and I grab the electric razor perched on my sink, and without thinking, throw it at my face in the mirror. The sound startles me, and I flinch as my reflection shatters away into pieces. I hate Katie for what she did, but even worse I hate myself for what I didn’t do. I let her go. I thought I was being the bigger person in letting her do what was best for her. I should have fought harder, told her back then that she was all I ever thought about. But I didn’t, and this is what I get for being so weak.

I was a coward, I still am. Because even now I know, I’m making the same mistakes again. I should be more forgiving but I’m not. I should go to her, and try to work this out. But a part of me can’t stop thinking that I didn’t deserve this.

Suddenly, my resolve to remain strong breaks. It takes me no time to throw on some clothes before I grab my keys and run down the stairs. I know what I’m about to do is wrong and stupid, but I don’t know what else to do. All that I am is lost in sorrow. Sorrow that I need to forget, pain that I need to numb. Aguish overtakes every cell in my body and I have to escape.

The best way I know how.

I stare at the two remaining letters. The ones from Michael that I just haven’t found the courage to open. With Parker avoiding me like the plague, I feel myself slipping away again. It’s been a week and I haven’t heard anything from him. I knew things were too good to be true. I don’t blame Parker for his reaction—he has every right to be upset with me. I just worry about where I’m going to go from here. Stevenson increased the sessions after my bombshell. Says he’s concerned about my recovery, and he has every right to be.

I finger the familiar lettering scrolled on the envelope of the letter intended for Zoe. I have conflicted emotions about reading it. After all, it wasn’t meant for me to read to myself, it was meant for me to read to her to keep his memory alive. The envelope turns over and over so many times that I’m sure it’s going to disintegrate in my hands. Eventually, my curiosity gets the better of me and I rip the top of the envelope in one fell swoop. With shaking fingers, I take the lined paper out and unfold it, taking a deep breath as my eyes fall to the handwritten page.

My dearest Zoe,

I never thought I could love another woman like I loved your Mom. Until you came along. From the day you were born, you were the light of my life. The single best thing to ever happen to me—and your Mom. She deserved so much happiness, but there just always seemed to be something missing.

And then came you.

Having you in our lives was magical. We loved you. We kissed you, we made sure you were happy and safe before we tucked you in at night. We watched you grow up and turn into a beautiful young girl. And I couldn’t be more proud than to call myself your Dad. Your mom is going to need you, Zoe. She’s going to need you to keep her fire burning.

So keep making her smile, Zoe. She deserves it.

Love you to the moon and back.

Always.

Daddy

My tears fall onto the paper, streaking the ink. I hopelessly wipe the streaks before setting the paper on my nightstand.

“And I couldn’t be more proud than to call myself your dad.”

I piece things together, and deep down I know.

He’d known it all along.

All along, Michael knew everything. Yet he still loved me, in spite of my demons. My heart ached knowing the turmoil I had put him through. Every day he looked out for me and my best interests. Hell, he even did so in the wake of his death. Michael was selfless. He loved me more than I loved myself. His love for me, even after his death, makes me miss him even more.

Emotionally exhausted, I flop backwards onto my bed. There are no words to describe the plethora of emotions that bombard me. I don’t know what I want, who I am, or how I’m going to move on. But I do know that I need to continue on, despite the bad choices and bad shit going on in my life.

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.