Kismet (6 page)

Without waiting, I grab another sandwich from the plate and leave. I make it halfway down the hallway before the tears start to fall again, slow at first, then as a steady stream. It’s all too much. The pressure to move on is ludicrous. I throw my back against the wall, unable to help hearing the conversation that continues in my absence.

“Damn, Tommy,” Parker starts. “You didn’t tell me she was that bad.”

“We don’t know what to do,” Tommy answers. “I thought seeing you might help her.”

“But it didn’t,” Parker adds angrily.

Pop sighs. “She just needs time to heal. Like last time, only this time, it’s her whole world that has gone. It takes time to rebuild from the rubble, but she’ll start putting the pieces back together. We just need to keep surrounding her with love. She’ll get through it.”

“She’s not the Katie I remember,” Parker mutters.

Those few words cut me deeper than I expect them to. I don’t want to care what Parker McKenzie thinks, but I do. He might as well have stuck a knife into my heart.

Thinking that I’m disappointing all of them, my body slides down the wall, the grief taking control again. Disgusted with myself, I realize that not only am I grieving for my family but for myself as well. The Katie they all knew died that day. She might still be here in body, but her soul is gone.

“She’s in there, man,” Tommy chokes. “I know it.”

In a heap in the hallway, I cry for him, for me, for them. Because I seem to be the only one who realizes that there is no saving any of us.

We are broken.

Under the circumstances, I shouldn’t feel what I feel. But seeing her again… holy hell. Looking at her beautiful face, knowing that she’s back, brings something buried deep within me back to life. The need for the booze and female company gone with a single look into her eyes.

It scares me, feelings these feelings again, because they are feelings that I spent years trying to forget. But I know that I have to do something. As fucked up as it sounds, this is my chance to try and make things right.

Without a doubt Katie’s hurting, and that makes me feel it too. My heart hurts knowing that she’s hurting. The pain I feel though, is a direct result of her pain. But I know I can do this. I’ve been by her side through her troubles before, and I vow to be with her each step of the way again. She deserves that much from me.

Tommy and I have been through so much with that girl. Katie and her silence was something we are all very familiar with. It was traumatic to witness a child so sad, but he and I promised to stick by her side, no matter what. We did whatever we could to make her feel special. As she grew up, I found my feelings for her evolving. Then one day, shortly after her fifteenth birthday, I couldn’t fight it anymore and I kissed her, and things were never the same for me again.

Memories consume me as I make my way home. It doesn’t take me long to figure out the path I want to take and I walk up the stairs to my apartment full of resolve, my hands shaking as I fumble with the lock, so much so that I have to stop and take a deep breath before finally unlocking it. Once I manage to get in, I walk directly to the fridge and grab the full case of beer, setting it on the counter. Standing on my toes I grab the three liquor bottles from the cabinet above the fridge and place them next to the beer. I take a step back and lean my back against the center island, looking at the booze that has become my Band-Aid. I consider my options: Keep them and risk fucking it all up again, or be there for Katie.

It’s an easy choice.

Reaching out, I grab one can at a time and pour them into the sink. I listen to each can and bottle glug, the liquid pouring down the drain. I imagine all my demons disappearing right along with the poison that has filled my life for years. I’m going to be the man I always wanted to be. I’m going to try and make things right for Katie. To help her realize that it’s always been her for me. That the mistakes I made were always done with her in mind.

Once all the bottles and cans are empty I place them into a trash bag and throw them out in the dumpster. Emotionally exhausted, I make my way to the couch, flop down onto my back and kick my feet up, placing my arms underneath my head. I stare up at the ceiling.

Damn ceiling tiles.

A perfect example of the hold Katie still has on me. Every day for the past seven years something, most of the time something small, reminds me of Katie, forcing me to remember
everything
.

I’ve always been friends with Tommy, in fact I can’t remember life without him. He was so excited when Katie was born. It was all he talked about at school that whole week. Once the weekend came, he insisted that I come to his house to see her. So, even though it didn’t sound like the best way to spend a Saturday, I did.

We walked into his house and Mrs. Garvin was burping her. Excited beyond belief, Tommy insisted on taking over and so she got him situated on the couch where he proceeded to go about taking care of her like a pro. I can remember being impressed. He was my age, only five, yet he knew just what to do. I didn’t have a sibling—I never would because at that point Mom had already run off—and I just didn’t get it. She was just a baby, what was all the fuss about?

“C’mon, Tommy,” I pleaded. “I wanna go see if we can find some snakes.”

“You gotta hold her first,” he commanded.

Immediately, I was nervous. “No.”

Tommy ignored my response and said, “Mom says you have to sit.”

For some reason I did what he said, even though I didn’t really want to. The idea of holding a baby freaked me out. Carefully, he placed her into my arms. “You have to keep her neck straight,” he said, moving his hands out from underneath her.

With her full weight in my arms, I sat for a moment in shock, not really believing that I was holding a baby. But then she opened her eyes and looked up at me with those crystal blue eyes that reminded me of the ocean. “She’s pretty cute,” I muttered, not really directing my comment at anyone.

“I know,” Tommy agreed. “We’ve got to protect her, Parker. Pop says that older brothers keep their sisters safe.”

“But I’m not her brother,” I argued.

Tommy leaned forward, taking her out of my arms. “Of course you are. She’s got two brothers that will watch out for her until her dying day.”

It was a moment that I’ll never forget. In fact, I still remember the way I felt that day, knowing that I would be responsible for making sure she was safe and happy. Tommy and I loved that girl, but with that one kiss, my brotherly love turned on me. I’d like to say that things were great between us, but they weren’t. I made a lot of mistakes.

But that’s behind us now. Katie needs me again, and I’ll be there to see her through it this time, no matter what. I’m going to make every moment count.

I know there’s a fine line between understanding her grief and fighting the urge to make up for lost time, but I’m ready to walk it with her.

For her.

Week One:

The couch is my friend.

My only friend.

Week Two:

Pills.

Sleep.

The days blur.

Week Three:

The ache in my heart does nothing but grow stronger.

I sit.

I stare.

One Month:

Nothing happens. Nothing changes, except the season because by now it’s summer. Everything’s different. But yet, it’s all still the same.

I eat.

I sleep.

I fight the nightmares/memories.

I wake up.

I shower.

I cry.

Besides the days that I have to “work” with Stevenson, I keep to myself. Everyone gives me space, backing off and letting up on the questions.

I enjoy being alone—which is good, considering I am.

Alone, that is.

Always alone.

Utterly alone.

Even in my dreams now.

Lying in my room, looking out the window at the full moon, or at least I think it’s a full moon, I can’t really tell from here, I sigh as sleep evades me. Again.

Mom put her foot down with the drugs. She refuses to refill my pill prescription so I’m on my own in that respect. She offered up melatonin and cherry juice instead. I obliged, but it hasn’t quite had the same effect. The silence is deafening tonight and I need to find a way to shut off the thoughts.

Reaching the end of my rope, I swing my feet off the bed and drop them to the cool hardwood floor. Quietly pulling on some shorts that I retrieve from my dresser, I make my way out into the hallway and down the stairs to the kitchen, hoping that my parents still hide their liquor in the same spot that Tommy and Parker showed me when I was in high school.

In a move reminiscent of my teenage years, I look over my shoulder before pulling the cabinet door open, relieved to see that it’s just as well stocked as it had been then. I grab a nearly full bottle of Pop’s Crown Royal and slip my feet into some flip flops that I’d left by the door. I consider throwing on a sweatshirt but decide that the fresh summer night air will do me some good. As I open the door I feel the warm air, heated by the hot sun earlier in the day, against my skin. We’ve hit mid-Summer but I can’t really remember the end of spring. I’m thankful once I step out onto the lawn and see that the moon
is
in fact full because I hadn’t been able to locate a flashlight and I had worried how I would see to get out back. With the aid of the light of the moon, I should have no problem at all.

It’s peaceful, the only sounds coming from the crickets chirping throughout the fields. I carefully make my way down behind my house and into the woods. Years of practice mean that navigating my way through the branches and trees is easy. I breathe a sigh of relief as the creek comes into sight, the moon reflecting beautifully off the ripples in the water.

I plop down onto a rock near the edge of the creek and take in the sounds of the bubbling water. This place has always been so peaceful. I’d come here a lot as a kid. Sitting on this very rock, I’d practice talking. It was easier then, when it was just me, but right now I’m not ready for even that much. Instead, I twist the cap of the bottle and tip it back, taking a long haul directly from the mouth.

“Haven’t you heard? Self-medicating isn’t good for you.”

I look over my shoulder to find Tommy standing a few feet back. With my eyes still on him, I tip the Crown up and take another swig. I was never much of a drinker and the tingle on my lips reminds me of that fact.

He plops down next to me and grabs the bottle from my hand, taking a shot for himself.

“Bleurgh,” he says, wincing and wiping his lip with the sleeve of his shirt. “I always did hate Pop’s Crown. You should have grabbed Mom’s Baileys instead.”

I snatch the bottle back and glare at him. He’s ruining my night. This isn’t how I envisioned my evening at all. I came out here to relax and get a little drunk in order to get some sleep.

Tommy doesn’t take the hint, and instead he slides closer to me. “You know, you don’t have to try and go through this all alone, Katie. You’ve got us, we love you, and we want to help.”