“Sure. Of course. And don’t worry about getting Ava to cover you. I’ll cover your shifts.”
“Thanks, Charlie. I really appreciate it.”
“Oh, by the way.” He walked to the register and lifted the money tray, removing an envelope from underneath. “Glad you and that professor broke up. I ran him. He’s got a record.”
“You ran him?”
He tossed the envelope on the counter. “Yeah. Told you I was going to check out the guys sniffing around you girls from now on. Guy’s got a record for assault. It’s old, and it was sealed because he was a juvie. But not too many criminals change their stripes.”
Rather than attempt to explain anything, I just said thank you. It was a fitting end to the day I’d had. When a few new patrons came in, Charlie went to make some wings, and I decided to open the envelope.
It was surreal to read a police report that involved Caine and Benny. The top half was all informational—name, date, location, time of incident. At the bottom of the page was a section labeled Narrative of Incident, and a paragraph had been written in an officer’s chicken-scratch handwriting:
On 8-3-02 at 15:35 hours, suspect committed an act of assault on an unrelated thirty-nine-year-old man. There were no witnesses to the attack, but when I arrived on the scene, the suspect was standing over the victim, who was unconscious. I observed cuts and blood on the suspect’s knuckles, consistent with the victim’s assault. Ambulance number 4631 was dispatched and arrived on the scene at 15:48 hours. The victim regained consciousness during the time the paramedics were treating him. The suspect admitted he had assaulted the victim but refused to give a statement other than requesting that police and social services be sent to 3361 Robbins Lane within the town of Pleasantville. Units were dispatched to the address to investigate. The suspect was searched and cuffed and placed into the back of the squad car while the scene was secured. He remained there until 16:50 when he was transported to the 33rd precinct for processing of charges on second-degree assault.
While I’d already known everything I read, somehow seeing it all on paper hit me. Caine had put my sister and me before himself, making sure we got the attention we needed before even considering what might happen to him. He’d done the same thing again a few weeks ago—or, at least he thought he had—choosing to sacrifice his own happiness for mine when he’d broken things off to avoid dredging up the past.
I closed my eyes. The memory of my mom that had come back today as I sat in the church once again flooded my thoughts. She’d told me to come to the church if I ever needed to talk, and God would listen.
“What if He’s busy?”
She leaned over and kissed the top of my head. “Then one of His angels will be listening.”
Suddenly everything was clear. It wasn’t Caine I needed to forgive. He’d never done anything but try to protect me. I needed to forgive myself in order to accept him into my heart. I could run the other way, but it was too late, he already had my heart.
Charlie must have noticed me in deep thought and mistook that for being upset.
“You okay?” He pointed to the ripped envelope on the bar and the papers I’d been reading.
“I am now. Thanks, Charlie.”
Caine
Rachel’s text was the last thing I expected. I read back through the ambiguous exchange from an hour ago.
Rachel: Could we talk tomorrow after class?
Caine: Of course. Is everything okay?
Rachel: Yes. Everything is fine.
Caine: Do you want to discuss something related to school or your thesis?
Rachel: No.
I knew she generally ran off to work on Tuesdays after class.
Caine: Don’t you have to work after class?
Rachel: No. I took a week off.
There was no damn way I was going to get any sleep tonight. I was too anxious. Of course, my mind started to screw with me, imagining all sorts of shit—like why she’d taken a week off. I pictured her sitting on a plane, heading to some exotic destination with that Davis tool. Even though a chunk of time had passed since our last text, I picked up the phone in an attempt to find out something that might help me relax.
Caine: Are you going somewhere?
She typed back a few minutes later.
Rachel: No. Not going anywhere.
Further attempts to relax after that were just as futile. Eventually I grabbed my keys and decided tomorrow was way too long to wait to hear what Rachel had to say. I’d given her the space she’d asked for, but if she was finally ready to talk, I had a lot I needed to say, too.
After I got to her place, I realized it was pretty late. Not wanting to scare her by buzzing the door at almost eleven, I decided to text first.
Caine: Are you awake?
The dots started to jump around. That answered that question.
Rachel: Yes.
Caine: Think we can do a little earlier than after class tomorrow?
Rachel: Sure. What time?
Caine: Right now.
Rachel: I think it’s better if we speak in person.
Caine: Me too. I’m downstairs. Can I come up?
My phone rang a minute later.
“Are you joking?”
I pressed her bell in response. “That’s me.”
After she buzzed me in, I waited in front of the elevator. The damn thing was too slow. Now that I was here and she’d let me in, I was desperate to see her. My heart beat unnaturally fast in my chest as I waited. Impatient, I looked around for a door leading to a stairwell. Once I found it, I flung it open to take the stairs two at a time.
Rachel’s door opened just as I arrived on her floor. “You’re really here.”
I couldn’t tell whether she was happy or upset that I’d come without warning—her face was mostly just shock.
“I am.”
She stood in the doorway in a thin, cotton T-shirt and shorts. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and her face was wiped clean of makeup. I’d seen her looking beautiful all dressed up for an opera, but she was never more beautiful than in this moment.
“Can I come in?”
She stepped aside. “Sure. Of course.”
On the drive over, I’d decided that before she said whatever was on her mind—whether that be telling me off, telling me she was seeing someone else, telling me to fuck off, or even on the long shot that she’d be telling me she was willing to give me another chance—I was going to tell her how I felt about her. I was done keeping secrets from this woman.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
My mouth was parched from nerves and the race up the stairs. “Some water would be great. Thanks.”
While Rachel got me some water, I looked around the room, finding the wall of photos that always caught my attention. My eyes fixated on the photo of Rachel and her roommates. Davis, to be specific. I needed to know. So, when she brought me the water, I asked point blank without any preamble.
“Are you seeing Davis again?”
“No.”
“I saw you with him last week at O’Leary’s.”
“I know.”
“You saw me?”
“No. Ava saw you. Why didn’t you stay to talk to me if you came all the way there?”
I hung my head. “I was trying to do the right thing.”