chapter 17
HALLIE
I’m not even sure that he’ll even be on the roof, but I want to believe that he hasn’t changed that much, that he still does his best thinking in the open air. The cold whips through my body and I shiver in the wind as I glance around.
He’s not here.
My heart drops.
I make my way to the edge and peer out over the city, the flakes of snow melting as they fall into my hair.
Where could he be?
Just as I’m about to give up and spend the rest of the night worrying in my room, I hear a slight thud and I stiffen. It’s either him or security. At this point, I’m not sure what I would prefer.
There’s impatience and anger in his face when I turn around to meet his eyes.
“What are you doing on the roof, Hallie? I would have expected Marcus to come up here. Not you.”
I shrug my shoulders in response and cross to him, staying just out of his reach.
“Sorry to disappoint. I’m sure you had a great, indignant speech prepared, too. You’ll just have to save it for the next time Marcus pisses you off.”
His shoulders slump. “I repeat. What are you doing here, Hallie?”
“Freezing my butt off, Jensen.”
“I didn’t invite you. Go back inside.”
“I wanted to make sure that you were all right.”
He takes my shoulders in his hands and turns my body so that we’re staring directly into each other’s eyes.
“You shouldn’t have to ask me if I’m okay. You should never have to ask me that.”
He’s shaking a little and his skin is cold to the touch.
“Let’s go inside, Chris.”
“I don’t want to go inside.”
He sounds so much like Grace that I have to laugh.
“Yes, you do. But more importantly, I need to get back inside before I actually, literally, begin to freeze. I let Eva talk me into the fashionable choice when I should have gone for jeans and a sweater.”
He opens his mouth to protest, but he nods when he inspects my shivering form more closely.
“Fine. We’ll go in.”
He reaches the stairs first, and I follow until he comes to an abrupt halt about halfway down.
“Hallie, I thought you needed time to think. To consider. Just a little time, you said. No alternative meanings.”
I can’t fathom why he seems so angry. He’s practically shaking with it. Then, I look more closely into his face.
“Chris, what’s wrong?”
“What isn’t wrong?”
“You’re shaking. Come on.”
“Come on what, Hallie?”
“Talk to me.”
“What do you want to know?”
I want to know everything, but I can tell that isn’t what he needs to hear right now. When we reach the bottom of the stairs, the floor is empty, but I don’t want to have this conversation in the middle of the hallway. I’m not sure what conversation I want to have. But I know that I need to keep him talking, that I can’t just let it be. Not when he looks like he just got hit by a freight train.
I open the door to my room and expect him to follow me. Instead, he remains in the hallway, looking pitiful.
“Come inside.”
“I can’t.”
“I’m not going to attack you. Scout’s honor. Come inside before I have to scream at you.”
He’s reluctant. “Only for a minute.”
I shut the door behind us, and he sits tentatively on the end of the bed. I hand him a bottle of water from the minibar, and that act manages to elicit a small smile.
“I thought you said minibars were the devil.”
“I thought you said they were God’s little gift to mankind.”
He doesn’t respond to that, but I notice that he reaches into his pocket before beginning to play with the edge of the blanket, touching it again and again with his hands and shredding the corners.
“They’re going to charge that blanket to my room, you know.”
“Bill me.”
“Why were you headed up to that roof, Chris?”
He spins his head very slowly to face mine.
“My name is Chris Jensen, and I’m an alcoholic.”
Obviously, I know that. I must have known, even back when we were kids and everyone drank too much. I also knew from the second I saw him in New York that he had gotten sober. Sam’s observations had only confirmed it. I still feel relieved when I hear him say it aloud, when he admits to me that he knows it, too.
“I haven’t had a drink in three years.” He turns to me with a fierce expression. “And I didn’t have one tonight. I wanted one more than I’ve ever wanted one in my life, but I didn’t have one tonight. You know, in case that was what you were worried about.”
“I wasn’t worried about that.”
It’s true. I’ve seen Chris drunk, and I’ve seen him tipsy, and I’ve seen him everywhere in between and beyond, and he isn’t any of those things. It doesn’t make my worry any less potent.
“I did AA. The twelve steps.”
“I hoped for it, and I’m glad to hear it now.”
“I may have skipped the most important one. Making amends. I told you I was sorry for New York, but maybe that’s not really what I’m sorry for.”
“I’m sorry, too.”
“What do you have to be sorry for?”
“Oh, a million things. For being young and stupid and for not telling you what I really thought and felt. For not demanding that you get the help that you needed. I was just as complicit in a lot of it as you were.” He starts to talk, but I shake my head. “Please don’t. Not if you’re only going to offer an apology that I don’t want to hear.”
“Hallie…”
“Why were you on that roof? You still haven’t answered the question.”
He looks out the window and his words are barely audible. “I had the bottle. From the minibar, funnily enough, God’s great gift to mankind. I put it to my lips, and I almost took a drink, even while I was on the goddamn phone with my sponsor. He told me to get my ass to a meeting, so I got my ass to a meeting. Of course, I even took the goddamn bottle with me, which is like bringing gasoline to a fire. I went up to the roof to clear my head and to think. I really f*cking needed a drink.”
He pulls the bottle from his jacket and hands it to me. “Keep that, please.”
I take it from him and tuck it away. “But you didn’t have a drink.”
He shakes his head in frustration. “That’s not the point. And you still haven’t answered my question, Hals, and I asked first. Why are you here? What were you doing up on that roof?”
The total subject change. By far the most annoying weapon in his arsenal.
“I did answer your question. I was worried about you.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“I don’t need to be saved.”
“I think everyone needs a little saving every once in a while. But I didn’t come up there to save you. I came up there to make sure you were all right.”
“What do you think? You think I’m all right?”
“I don’t know.”
He buries his head in his hands and when he lifts his head again, the look in his eyes nearly shatters me.
“I never wanted you to see me like this, Hals.”
“Like this? Really?”
I’ve seen him in far worse states. I try to push those memories from my mind, because thinking about Chris like that makes me remember that last terrible night in London, when everything had fallen apart.
He reaches across the distance I’ve put between us and takes my hand in his.
“Like this. Sad. In need of saving, no matter how pathetic that might be.”
“Last week, I was in need of saving, no matter how pathetic that might be. I owe you one.” I cover his hand with mine, feeling his skin vibrate under my fingers. “This is the only way I can think of to thank you. To check to see if you’re all right.”
“Can you sit with me awhile?”
“Of course.”
I’ve always thought of silence as the enemy, so I usually fill it with nonsensical words and silly observations.
But now, with the weight of life resting heavily on both of our shoulders, we sit for long minutes, letting the silence fill in all of the years stretching between us. There are a thousand things left unsaid, but I’m not ready to dive into that particular wreck.
So, for the first time in my life, I find solace in silence.
And in the warmth of his hand on mine.
The minutes pass in nothing more than a heartbeat. While I should have had time to prepare for it, his next words shock me out of the magic of the moment.
“I have to say it, Hals. I can’t be with you, in this room, without saying what I’ve needed to say for five years.”
His face is wracked with pain. I don’t want to hear this. I try to cover my ears, but I’m not fast enough.
“I don’t know when or if I’m going to see you again, and I can’t let you slip out of my life without telling you how sorry I am. I’m sorry for not telling Marcus and the publicity people to f*ck off, because I know it bothered you and I just pretended like I didn’t notice. I’m sorry for London. I’m sorry for breaking your heart. I’m sorry for being young and stupid and drunk and for not realizing that I was throwing away the love of my life just because I could and because I was a f*cking alcoholic who couldn’t admit it to himself. I’m sorry that you had to clean up my messes and apologize for me. I’m sorry for all of it and a thousand more things that I probably did and that I can’t remember because I was so f*cked up that I didn’t see you falling away from me.”
His face makes me want to weep.
“I’m sorry, too. I gave up on you. I didn’t know how to help you, so I just gave up. I shouldn’t have done that.”
He gives me a sad smile and stands up.
“No. You shouldn’t have. But I shouldn’t have let you. I’m sorry, and I can’t atone.”
As he opens the door to leave, I remember one last true thing, something that he told me long ago. I call after him in a soft voice.
“Chris?”
He turns around and I whisper it so that only he can hear.
“It’s a hell of a thing to apologize to someone you love. Because it means that you have to admit to that person that you’re not perfect, that they’re not perfect, that no one will ever be perfect. Because in saying you’re sorry, you’re really admitting that you’re human.”
“Someone smart must have told you that.”
“You told me that.”
He gives me a bittersweet smile. “I forgot to tell you that you look beautiful tonight. But then again, you always do.”
With that, he’s gone. There’s a terrible finality about those words that’s magnified as the door shuts between us.
I sink into the bed.
Why do apologies always feel like goodbyes?