Something unthinkable happened.
Some piece of shit, motherfucker put his hands on Rae—my Rae—and forced himself on her. Some sack of shit did unspeakable damage to her in every way and left a baby in her belly. He left her with the burden of having to make adult choices when she was just a teenager. She went through hell all alone.
And she was right to blame me.
Had I not enlisted in the Marine Corps, had I not assumed we would workout no matter what, had I not agreed to give goddamn Brooklyn Jones a ride home that day, Rae would have been left unscathed.
The minute she told me the truth, including that she had only taken off on me again because she worried how her affiliation with me may affect BCF, I had the urge to run away. I felt so fucking responsible and guilty and ashamed for not being there for her in the way she needs. She’s one hell of a woman that deserves the world and yet she’s in fucking DC alone and convinced that she should stay that way.
“Had I known,” I mutter. “Jesus, fuck, Snow.” The knot in my throat doubles in size and I attempt to wash it down with more beer. Worse still, she wants to make good on our deal, she’s willing to marry me and I knew right away I had to tell her no. None of that shit about last night is what I had pictured for Rae and I. When I close my eyes and try to picture my ring on Rae’s finger I only see her beautiful, crumpled, tear-stained face, her mesmerizing blue eyes turned dull under the weight of the miserable hell she’s been stuck in all alone for over a decade. My god. Rae.
My phone begins buzzing again and I silence it, not looking at the fifteenth text message Rae has sent to me, asking that we talk, asking that I think about what she said, asking that I don’t take responsibility for an event that very obviously was my fault. Pure fury, and the desire to murder and maim, grips me by the throat and I grab my phone, ignoring her texts only so I can ask one question.
Me: Who was he?
Snow: It doesn’t matter. Can we please talk? I replay the entire thing in my head, picking out clues. She worked with some guy that seemed like a loser with eyes for Rae. Was it him? What was that fucker’s name?
Me: Tell me who. You said it was someone at work. Was it that asshole James, Josh, John whatever his name was?
Snow: Don’t, Sy. He isn’t worth it. Hunting him down won’t change what happened.
Me: Kicking the shit out of him until he’s not moving anymore oughta make me feel a whole lot better though.
Snow: Yeah well that makes one of you because the rest of the world gets to then visit you in prison and no one wins. Please.
Me: Fine.
Snow: Can we PLEASE talk?
Me: I’m sorry Rae, for everything. More than you’ll ever know. I need some time to process all of this. She doesn’t text message anything for a while after that and I hate it. I feel awful. My head is spinning and I just need a bit to process this revelation. Finally my phone buzzes in my hand with an incoming text message.
Snow: I understand.
I’m glad one of us does.
“So what are you going to do?” Chick asks from my couch with his fingers tapping away on his phone, likely to a new the woman of the week. Chick can’t hold down a relationship if his ass end was strapped on top of it. I season our steaks and flip them over, to season the other as I try to come up with an answer.
“I don’t know. Nothin?” I shrug, because I don’t truly know what the hell to say. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do from here on out when it comes to Rae. We have to get along, we need to move past the things in our history, but I don’t feel I can. It’s Rae and I’m me. I’ll always love Rae. Always. But I’ll always hate me for causing her so much pain. Always. So do I just avoid her? Take a page from her playbook and turn into a ghost? Would she hurt more or less if I vanished on her? Either way, it’s a moot point to even consider it because Doug and El want me to be their baby’s godfather and I have no doubt in my mind Rae is the godmother. So… will our interaction be limited to hollow how do you do’s at holidays, birthdays and the like? I guess. I don’t bother bombarding Chick with my inner thoughts because he’s not truly listening anyway judging by how closely he’s focused on whoever he’s texting. I sneak up behind him and look at the text.
“Bethany?” I ask, shocked but not.
“Fucker!” Chick throws a couch pillow at me. “Yeah, if you must nose into my business the answer is yeah, Bethany. She’s… interesting. I like her a lot.” Chick shrugs.
“And Rae is allowing you to soil her sidekick?”
“A. Fuck you. Two. It’s not up to Rae but yes she thinks we could be good together. In fact she said we’re two birds of a feather. And C. Why don’t you call Rae yourself if you’re so concerned with what she thinks.”
“Okay, okay. I’m just messin’ with you, Chicken Nugget.” I laugh, tucking my beer under my arm while I take the steaks out the backdoor, headed for my grill. I toss the food on to cook and sit down in one of the two black wicker rockers I have on my back deck. I look out across the tree line behind my home and feel as though the empty seat beside me is laughing at me. Why the hell do they sell patio furniture for crowds, anyway? Some people are alone and plan to stay that way. Some people don’t need a goddamn second rocker. I grumble under my breath and down the rest of my beer all at once.
It doesn’t matter if I have a second rocker because I don’t have a person to use it and I’m beginning to believe that this is just what God has planned for me. Perpetual bachelorhood.
Chapter 34
Raegan
“So what are you going to do?” Bethany asks slightly out of breath due to helping me lug my boxes from my office down to my car, which is double-parked outside our office building.
“I don’t know. I told Sweeney I would remain on the team, remotely in the interim but I’m out of here. This place has been slowly killing me, anyway.”
“What did they say is wrong with Ellie?”
“Preeclampsia. I Googled all about it. She’s in the hospital for observation, and she’s okay for now, but they still expect her to deliver the baby early. Right now it’s just about buying time. She’s going to need extra help while she’s recovering and getting her blood pressure to return to normal so I’m going to live on her couch for the foreseeable future,” I shrug. The movement belies how scared I am for my little sister and her precious baby but focusing on her is cathartic for me. I’ve been a mess since I came home from the trip we took to be there for her baby shower almost two weeks ago.
Sy responds to my texts but not all of them and he doesn’t say a lot, which makes me sink into a sense of depression and a half pint of double chocolate chunk ice cream. I know he said he wanted time to process everything, but it feels like he just wants to keep away from me. It hurts, and it’s illuminating for me. If feeling as though the person you’re in love with doesn’t want you is what Sy felt all those years then I very much deserve the silent treatment. I also have no clue what he’s thinking. Of me, of what happened, of the choices I made… So yes, focusing my attention elsewhere is something I am happy to do. I don’t know how much more despondence over Sy I can handle. For the time being, I will give him his space and just hope and pray we can at least be friends again. He is after all my nephew or niece’s godfather. He’s going to have to get used to seeing the godmother around, me. I’ll be doing my best to do the same for him.