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“He’s wanted you for so long. Maybe we could arrange to get together one day, have a drink…”
“You’re wrong,” I say, my voice cold even to my own ears. “He doesn’t want me.”
“How do you know?”
“I know. He told me.” Well, not in so many words, but the message came through loud and clear. “So I don’t care if you guys are having a drink, or celebrating his birthday, but I’ll take a raincheck.”
“His birthday? He told you about it?”
About what? I open my mouth to ask, when her cell rings, and she snatches it from the table as if she’s been waiting for the call.
“Yeah? Yeah Ash, tell me. What? She’s still bleeding?”
I sit back in my chair, hit with dizziness. Words reach my ears, strangely distant.
“Is it bad? Damn. Give Aud hugs, I’ll be right there.” Through the buzzing in my ears, I hear a chair screeching backward, then Tessa say, “I need to go. Aud is bleeding, Ash is taking her to the hospital. Meg, did you hear what I said?”
I nod, unable to form words, aware what is happening to Audrey is far more important than my state of fugue. I wave at Tessa as she goes.
“We’ll talk about this,” Tessa says, pointing a blue-nailed finger at me, “this state you get in whenever Audrey is mentioned. Later.”
Throwing me one last worried look, Tessa gathers her purse and leaves, her latte glass practically untouched, sitting on the table in front of me.
I push away my coffee, my stomach churning. All I see is blood, pooling on the floor around my feet, and fear pulls me down like a black hole.
It’s in the past, Meg, I tell myself and draw in a long breath, hold it. Let it out. It’s been a year. You need to get over it.
You did your best, and it’s not your fault the baby is gone. Scott. His name was going to be Scott. A baby boy…
But it’s not your fault Mom’s boyfriends are violent assholes. That you couldn’t do more, or that Mom never got over it and blamed you for everything, once again.
But deep inside I know she’s right. Losing the baby brother I wished so hard for will always haunt me, and I’ll always wonder if things could’ve gone differently, and who I’d be today.
***
Mid-morning the next day, I’m stepping out of a fancy French restaurant off State Street, hands in my jacket pockets and my head down after yet another rejection. You’d think a job waiting tables wouldn’t so hard to find, and yet.
And yet.
Snow is falling gently, flakes drifting by, feathery caresses on my cheeks. A hot pressure is growing behind my brow. Damn, I don’t want to cry. Don’t want to break down. I’ll find something. I think…
I think I know now what Rafe meant when he said I’d break him. Right now, I feel broken, too. The caress of the snow reminds me of him, of the way he held me and stroked the hair out of my eyes, the way he spoke my name.
Gentle, but also determined, careful and yet trusting.
I stop and close my eyes for a moment, drawing the cold air into my lungs. Trying not to think about him.
But it’s a lost cause. His face, his body, his voice, they’re in my thoughts day in and day out, and the nights…the nights are the worst.
God, I wish I could stop this, stop wondering where he is, how he’s doing, who he’s with. If he’s okay, or if he’s hurting himself. If he’s with someone else.
No. I don’t want to think about him.
I stomp in the fresh snow, kick at it, try to calculate how much money I have left and if there’s anything in the fridge I could feed the kitten. Time to stock up on some ramen noodles and mac-and-cheese packages, and see if patching up my jeans means they might hold out for another month.
Guess going out again for coffee with Tessa or Zane is out of the question. Not that they’d be interested, with Audrey still in the hospital. She’s stabilized, but they’re keeping her in for observation, as her due date is almost here.
I should go visit her, I know, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Panic lurks at the corner of my mind whenever I think of dropping by, plagued by the same bloody images and the inescapable guilt that accompanies them.
