My legs feel tired. As I walk back through the airport, I’m aware of every muscle, every tendon, every ligament, and they all just feel . . . tired. Like I fought the best, most important fight of my life, and I lost. And, even though I won, I really did lose. I lost everything.
The ride back to the hotel is uneventful. When I try to think about past the now, it seems that everything feels the same way—uneventful. The night, the morning, next week, next year—all uneventful. It’s like everything I had to look forward to got somehow twisted around and wrapped up in a shy wisp of a girl. And without her, there’s just . . . nothing.
Uneventful nothingness.
At the hotel, I’m pissed to find Kurt in my room. “How the hell did you get in here?”
“Being your brother has some perks. Being handicapped just helps my case.”
I don’t reply. I don’t take the bait. I’m just not interested in Kurt right now. Actually, I’m not interested in much of anything except sleep. I just want to sleep.
Ignoring him, I walk into the bedroom to get some clean lounge pants, and I head for the bathroom. I cut on the shower and turn to find Kurt parked in the doorway. “What?” I snap.
“Did you find her?”
“Yeah.”
A pause. “And?”
“And what? She’s gone.”
“You’re the dumbest asshole I’ve ever met. Why would you let a woman like that go?”
“It’s what she wanted.”
“Well, I gotta give her credit for making the smart choice, but I’m surprised. I thought she was pretty into you.”
“Maybe she was, maybe she wasn’t. Doesn’t matter now. It can’t work.”
“What kind of a defeatist attitude is that? Did it ever occur to you that you might actually have to try with some people?”
I clench my fists to keep from sending him back into the bedroom on his ass. “I tried, you shitdick. There are just some things that I can’t change, things that she can’t live with. That’s it. If I could fix it, I would, but I can’t.”
“Why? What’s so bad that it can’t be fixed?”
If you only knew, I think harshly. But I don’t tell him that. As I’ve done for years, I protect my brother. Mostly from himself.
“Just forget it, man. Back up,” I say, walking toward him to force him out of the doorway. “I need to shower.”
I close the door in Kurt’s face as soon as his lifeless feet are clear of the jamb.
“You’re making a big mistake, dude,” he says from outside. Unless I’m mistaken, there’s actually a note of regret in his voice. But not nearly as much regret as what’s in me. Nowhere close.
THIRTY-FIVE
Katie
I couldn’t face Monday. I called in sick and stayed in bed all day. Mona called at least six times, but I let them all go to voice mail. I knew I’d have to tell her eventually.
Today, Tuesday, is “eventually.”
As was her custom when Rogan was my first client of the day, Mona is in my “office” waiting for me when I arrive. Her face wreathed with a smile that’s so brilliant it rivals that of the sun. Until she sees me, that is. I watch it fall into an expression of concern.
“Kitty! You look terrible! What happened?”
She rushes across the room to take me in her thin arms. I resist the urge to literally cry on her shoulder. That’s not my style. Or at least it wasn’t until recently. For the last thirty-some hours, I feel like I’m no longer in control of my tear ducts. They’ve been overtaken by evil spirits or something. They don’t even care whether I’m asleep or awake. Each time I’ve fallen asleep, my own sobs have awakened me.
Somehow I manage to keep it together until Mona releases me. I give her a tight, polite smile and plead, “Do you mind if we just not talk about it?”
I can tell that’s tantamount to asking her to bite off her own tongue and swallow it, but still she nods in compliance. I walk past her to slide my purse into the drawer where it lives during the day. “Just know that when you’re ready, I’m here.”
I don’t turn to face her. I just nod. I don’t trust myself to speak.
THIRTY-SIX