Saint Nicholas (14 page)

“Love you too, Daddy. Sleep well.”

I’m not going to lie and say it doesn’t feel weird living with the man who basically tortured me for more than half my life. It does. It feels so incredibly weird, but I’ve come to accept that while the relationship between my father and me is never going to be perfect, it at least allows us to co-exist in the same place which is good, considering he’s dying.

He was the first to reach out. When I was in rehab Mom came to visit and said he’d been in touch with her for a couple of years. Nobody told me because, well, I wasn’t in any kind of shape to handle it. When she saw that I was trying to get my life back in order the truth came out, and she told me my father would like to talk.

I resisted at first. God, how I resisted. I didn’t want to face him. I was trying to improve my life, not make it worse, and the thought of laying eyes on the man who had sent me into a tailspin scared the shit out of me. My counselor, Carter, after a few weeks of speaking to me about everything, managed to convince me that it would be for the best. I agreed, but only on my terms. We could meet, in a public place, and Carter had to be there with me.

I’ll never forget that day for as long as I live, because it was the day I finally let go of everything.

I reached over and picked up my phone off the toilet lid.

Almost everything.

Nicholas Rossi was the one thing I’d never been able to let go of. I hated what I’d done to him—to us—and though I’ve said the words out loud to Carter and to others, I’ve never been able to forgive myself for what I did after all the love and comfort he brought into my life.

I stared at his Facebook message.

Meet me on the roof.

Just seeing it brought a smile to my face as I thought back to his arms wrapped tightly around me and the way he’d whisper in my ear,
I’ll take care of you
. Things were so different back then. I was different. I’d been telling myself over and over all day long that I wasn’t that girl anymore. That I wasn’t the same vulnerable, fragile person who needed to run into someone else’s arms to feel safe, but lying there in the tub, that was exactly what I wanted. Not to feel that same way again, alone and scared, but to just feel Nicholas the man holding me close, rather than Nicholas the boy.

I clicked on his name, taking me to his profile page. It hadn’t been updated in forever. There were posts, but none of them were from him, just fans of his books. I was glad he was doing what he loved, but wondered why he’d stopped updating his Facebook. His pictures were outdated, and though he looked good in them, I had no way of knowing if they even remotely resembled the person he was now.

Moving back to his message, I thought long and hard about what I’d say to him in return, because I
had
to say something. Facebook lets you know when the other person has read your message, so he knew I saw it. I couldn’t leave him hanging.

Nice to hear from you wouldn’t cut it. Neither would a question like how are you? No, he’d taken the time to think of something after all these years that would remind me of the love we used to share. Of something that would whisk me back to a time when that was all we had.

I closed my eyes, struggling with everything. My father, my guilt, the desire I still had deep down inside me that was growing with every thought of him still out there, somewhere, thinking of me. Happy that he had contacted me, but still ashamed of myself for all the years we’d missed out on together.

Maybe I’m not as recovered as I think I am.

I opened my eyes and realized I was clenching the phone tight in my hand. The tips of my fingers were bone white and I softened my grip, letting the blood flow back into them.

This is stupid. Just say hello and go from there. You don’t need to say anything profound or deep to get his attention. You already have it.

I brought the screen up and with nervous, trembling fingers I started typing the first thing that came to mind.

EIGHTEEN

-
Nicholas
-

Ten hours. That’s how long ago Sarah read the message I sent to her. Surely after waiting seven years then ten hours should be nothing, right?

Wrong!

In a flurry of nerves and activity, I spent the day cleaning my apartment, shaving, doing laundry, and eating; all the while nervously pacing back and forth in front of my laptop, waiting for a reply. Bacon didn’t know what the hell’d gotten into me and spent most of it just watching me from the couch like I was nuts. Cats are pretty perceptive that way.

I felt nuts. No, scratch that. I felt alive for the first time in years. Not just alive, but rejuvenated. Like my soul had been swapped out for a new one that was made of adrenaline. I smiled, I laughed, I danced. She was alive. Sarah was alive, and with that revelation I’d come alive, too.

Damn it felt good.

I sat at my computer eating a bowl of spaghetti. I don’t remember the last time I cooked, but somehow I felt this day warranted something special, so in the midst of cleaning and doing all that other stuff, I managed to run down to the corner store and grab the ingredients to make the same sauce ma used to make when I was a kid. Delicious!

Facebook was open, and I stared longingly at the screen waiting for something to happen while slurping up my noodles. I was on edge, and if I didn’t see those three little words soon it felt like I might burst. Just as I was about to get up and bring my bowl to the sink though, they came.

Sarah is typing…

Holy shit! Not only was she alive, but she was typing. Praise the heavens, she was typing!

My leg furiously bounced up and down, my knee hitting the bottom of the desk. I set the bowl beside the keyboard and laced my fingers together, resting my elbows on top of the desk. My heart beat against my ribcage so hard and fast, you’d swear it was rattling the bars of a prison I’d kept it in, trying desperately to break free.

Soon, buddy. Soon.

Then her message came through and I sucked in a sharp breath of air, holding it in while I read.

Saint Nicholas. I never thought I’d think those two words again, but here I am, sitting in a tub full of bubbles thinking about you. When I got your message it was like a blast from the past, and it’s all I’ve been able to think about all day. Don’t take my long silence as uncertainty. I knew the moment I read what you wrote I’d say something back, I just didn’t know what. I still don’t know what. I’m just typing the first thing that comes into my head. God, I must sound so crazy, or high. I’m not high. I haven’t been for a very long time, I just wanted you to know that.

Tears swelled my eyes knowing she was okay. For so long I’d thought drugs had gotten the better of Sarah, but they hadn’t. She was always a lot stronger than she gave herself credit for, and to hear that she’d managed to come out on top made my heart so friggin’ happy.

Sarah is typing…

I just…I don’t even know where to start. So much has happened over the last seven years, and it just doesn’t seem fair to talk about it in a Facebook message. Besides, my skin is starting to prune. Do you know how long I’ve been in this tub? So if you really want to meet me on the roof, I’ll come. Like the old days. I want to see you Nicholas. More than anything I want to see you, but I think you should know that I’m not the same girl I was back then. Things have changed, I’ve changed, but I think it’s important that we see each other. So say when, and I’ll be there. Your old roof.

I checked my watch and without even thinking my fingers stroked along the keyboard and typed
midnight
. I didn’t want to waste another second. I’d wasted seven years already.

Sarah is typing…

Tonight? Midnight tonight? Where are you?

Brooklyn. Where are you? And sure, midnight. Why? You got a hot date?

LOL. No! Okay, midnight. And I’m on Staten Island. God, this is crazy. See you soon!

She was right. It was crazy. We were like two crazy kids again.

I closed my laptop and hurried to the shower. I wanted to get there before Sarah did so I could just take her in as she walked toward me. I quickly cleaned up, put on a grey hoodie and a freshly washed pair of jeans, and asked Bacon to wish me luck. He mewed in response, as if he understood how monumental this moment was for me, because it was. It was the most important moment in my life.

* * *

I stared patiently at the street below from high atop my old roof. At that hour Hell’s Kitchen was still buzzing, but it was mostly with lights and sounds coming from inside people’s homes. Cars were parked silently on the street, and the few people that walked the sidewalk in my old stomping grounds were either drunk or high, or rushing to get home to avoid those that were drunk or high. It felt like nothing and everything had changed.

Standing there, in the same spot I used to meet Sarah, was a trip. I hadn’t been back there since before I’d walked out on her that day, and it brought up all sort of memories, both painful and pleasant. I tried blocking out the painful ones, wanting to believe that we’d both come so far and that those didn’t matter anymore—that they didn’t define us as the people we were today. It was hard, though. In a way those events
were
what shaped us, and in the years that followed I’d spent every waking moment holding onto them and trying to escape them all at once.

I breathed deep. A New York breath filled with life and the promise of things to come. I didn’t know what I’d say to her. I just knew I had to see her. I figured that when she was beside me, words would just spill out and hopefully they’d make some sort of sense.

Exhaling, my fingers gripped the ledge. Someone was coming. Looking up at me from the shadows. Was it her?

A hand extended into the air, waiving at me.

I couldn’t contain my excitement. I laughed, frantically waiving back like a giddy little schoolgirl. My heart hadn’t been filled with this much joy in a long time, if ever, and as she disappeared from sight to go into the building and make her way up to me, I could only hope that she felt the same way.

NINETEEN

-
Sarah
-

I paused to catch my breath, not because I was out of shape, but because with each step I took my heart pounded harder and harder in my chest and it felt like I might pass out.

Being this close to Nicholas again, it was something I never thought would happen, but now that he was just a few yards away from me through the door I was staring at…it was the most nervous I’d ever been. Even more nervous than that first meeting with my father during my rehab.

Was this how
he
felt, knowing how much he disappointed me over the years? Was that what Nicholas thought? That I was a disappointment?

I braced myself and pushed open the door, stepping out onto the roof. He stood across from me, dressed in a grey hoodie that formed to his upper body.

Well,
that
was new.

His jeans fit snug around his waist and as I stood there, taking Nicholas in, I felt my body tingle in every way imaginable as if it were recognizing a part of itself that had been missing all these years.

He smiled, and my heart melted. There was no judgment there. No regret. It was the most genuine, sincere smile anyone had ever given me, and I knew at that moment everything that happened between us was forgiven.

I told myself to walk. To stay steady and not seem too eager. That’s what I told myself.

What happened instead was me, running as fast as I could.

Nicholas spread his arms wide and scooped me up into a hug that saw my feet lifted off the ground as he twirled me around and I buried my face in his neck, crying. It was like something out of a movie, and when he put me down I realized I wasn’t the only one shedding tears.

His grip was strong and firm, holding me close against the warmth of his body. I breathed deep, relishing in his scent and the way he made me feel, like everything I’d done didn’t matter. It was like a huge weight had been lifted and was replaced with this sensation of acceptance.

He cleared his throat and took a step back. I wiped my eyes as he wiped his, both of us laughing at how absurd we were.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice deep and resonating. “Just a little emotional, you know?”

I smiled. “Yeah.”

We stood in comfortable silence, staring. He’d grown into a man, and my eyes traveled the contours of his chiseled face, taking in every inch of it. Every grain of stubble, every laugh line, every blink. My body was still tingling, only now it wasn’t out of recognition, but because of the desire it had to just take his beautiful face in my hands and kiss him.

But I couldn’t.

He broke his gaze and took my fingers, leading me over to the edge of the roof to stand next to him. Our shoulders connected, rubbing against one another while we both leaned over, looking out at the city.

I didn’t know what I was expecting at first sight, but it wasn’t this. I thought for sure seeing Nicholas again would dredge up old feelings and memories; enough to send me teetering back to the ledge of sobriety, but I didn’t sense that at all, and in a way that angered me.

Seven years I’d stayed away because of what I was afraid of, that I’d somehow forget all that I learned about myself during rehab and slip back to being the girl I once was. It was stupid, because now that he was here, standing right next to me, all I wanted to do was move forward.

Nicholas looked at me and smiled. “Hi,” he whispered.

I laughed, marveling at how comfortable he felt. “Hi.”

“So, how are you?”

He was nervous. I could see it in his body movements. The way he wouldn’t stop swaying his weight from foot to foot. The way he licked his lips before he spoke, like his mouth was dry and he didn’t want to sound hoarse. It was a natural reaction, but on him it looked so damn cute.