Crashing Souls (28 page)

“Take me to my old place,” I whispered. He started the car, letting it warm up while he toyed with my cold fingers. I leaned my head back and watched him, so sure of himself, of what he wanted. What he wanted was me. The thought used to be like a bucket of ice water to my heart. Only, I’d been the one controlling the bucket, I realized. Now, it was like warmth seeping into my pores. I couldn’t envy him his brightness anymore because he was so willing to shed some light on me. I wanted that light. I wanted it more than I wanted anything before.

Not anything….

I screwed my eyes shut as Dexter started the car. I left them closed for a few minutes, keeping my hand in his. We slowed and I opened my eyes. The stoplight changed from red to green, and when we neared my old
building,
I sat up. It was already a crap neighborhood, on the outskirts of town, without the fire. Everyone knew that very few made it out of here. Once you were born into this lower-class-edging-toward-poverty life, it was damn hard to dig yourself out of it. I had been in this pit and used everything I could, climbing with bloody fingernails. But I’d made it. And yet, as we pulled up to the charred rubble, I realized the price that came with it.

You couldn’t take everyone with you. And more often than not, they wouldn’t want to come. I’d asked Tim to head to Seattle. He was always so stubborn, insisting his work was here and he had no place in the big city. He’d said the two of us were different; I was a dreamer and he was a doer. When I reminded him that I’d taken my dreams and done something with them, he said I was probably more like him than I let on.

At the police station, they’d said another man perished in the fire. Thankfully, those three were the only ones in the building at the time. I guess it hadn’t taken much for the building to collapse because there wasn’t much left of it. I had no roots. They’d been burned.

I got out of the car, shutting the door behind me, and walked toward the mess that had once been home. I’d been dealt so many shit cards in this life that I wanted to throw my hands up and tell God that I quit. I couldn’t win. Dexter stood beside me, his eyes taking in the scene before him as I took him in.

“It’s hard to see.” His words were steady as he pushed his hands into his coat pockets.

“Why?” I asked, wanting to hear what was going on in his head.

“Because this place is a part of us. The history of us. I’m sure we’ll make more memories, but it still hurts when the ones we already have are taken from us.” The snow clung to his hair and shoulders. I reached up, brushing it off.

“
We still have our memories, Dexter. This place, it’s a
place
.” I knew I was telling myself this as well as him. But it needed to be said. Despite my sadness over my life being different from Dexter’s, at the end of the day, I was here. Tim wasn’t, but I’m sure he wouldn’t be too pleased to know I was sad over the apartment he hated paying for each month. He’d called our landlord a thief at least three times a week. I smiled at the memory and lifted my face to the sky.

“I think we’ll be fine,” I announced, taking his hand and heading to the minivan.

Like he’d done before, he asked where I wanted to go. I knew at some point I’d have to go see my mother. From what I’d been told at the police station, she was still unconscious.

“The hospital, I think.”

After a slow drive, making sure we didn’t slip on snow and ice, we pulled into the hospital parking lot. The emergency entrance looked the same as it always had.

I walked over to the woman at the desk and asked her where I could find my mother.

“Yes, Milagros Cruz? Right through those doors, take a left, and it’s the first room on the right. Room 196.”

Dexter placed his hand on my elbow, steering me in the direction she’d said. There was a commotion ahead, and I prayed it had nothing to do with the room we were heading toward. No such luck. I heard my mother’s scratchy voice as we stepped over the threshold. She sounded sick, like the smoke inhalation had all but taken her voice. And yet, she was swearing and yelling in English and Spanish.

“Where is my son?”

The doctor looked at his colleagues and shook his head.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. He was dead upon arrival.”

For a few moments, it was silent. I could hear the beep of the monitor before she lost it. Her screams
weren’t
loud but they were heartbreaking. I pushed past the doctors and walked slowly toward her. She saw me and turned away, content to continue with her antics. But only for a few minutes.

“Get out! Get out, all of you!” She said these words in Spanish, and I turned to the doctors, explaining that she wanted them to leave. I proceeded to follow them out, thankful she wanted to be alone.

“Where are you going, Noa?” she asked, her voice wavering.

“I figured you wouldn’t want me here,” I said, slowly turning to face her. My jacket was in my hands and Dexter was outside the door. I needed him in here with me. He was giving me unwanted privacy. I couldn’t face her alone.

“Timothy is dead.” Her voice was flat, and because she hadn’t had any alcohol in a few hours, I knew her anger would be irrational. Even when she
was
drunk, her anger was irrational. “You can’t comfort your mother?”

“Ma, why? I feel like we only bring out the worst in each other. Yes, Tim’s dead and I’ll take care of everything. But you said what you had to say years ago. And I don’t forget easily,” I said, pointing at her and turning to leave the room.

“Don’t go,” she pleaded. “I have to tell you,
mija
. I have to tell you.”

“What do you have to tell me?” I saw her face morph into one of fear as she tried to see if the hall was empty and beckoned me closer. Dexter stood with his phone to his ear, and I knew I’d have to deal with this on my own. I inched closer and she began to whisper.

“They’re going to find out,” she said in Spanish, and I knew it was because she was going to tell me something no one else should hear. “I—I fell asleep. The cigarette…let me come live with you. I promise I’ll stop. I’ll be better.” She clutched at my hands, and I yanked them out of her grip.

“
You killed Tim.” I stepped back, shaking my head. “And you want me to, what, save you? They’re going to find out, and when they do, you’re going to prison. For
two
deaths.”

She glared at me, her lips quivering under her anger.

“There you go again, thinking you’re better. You, the only person your father ever loved. Tell me, did you fuck him too? I saw the way he looked at you. Is that why he left?” She sat with her smug little face like she solved something and her sickly skin that made her look oler than she was. Made her look like my demons personified. Wasn’t she, after all? And while I felt sorry for her, my rage bubbled over.

“You are vile and disgusting. It should’ve been
you
,” I screamed. “It should’ve been you!” Thick arms banded around me, and there was a bustle of people. Still, I pointed at her through the bodies, repeating the words over and over until Dexter spun me and hugged me against him. Only when we were outside did I stop.

“She killed Tim,” I sobbed.

If I had thought coming back would be a good idea, I deserved to face this backlash. Tim had bought me a one-way ticket for a reason.

“Let’s go down to the police station,” he said, pulling me toward the minivan. I couldn’t stop crying. It seemed like it was all I did. My whole life was a series of tears and heartache.

“Why did it have to be him?” I asked myself aloud as Dexter buckled me in. His silent frown was all I got out of him. That was the question millions of people asked and never got the answer.

Still. It should’ve been her.

Chapter
30

A
few hours later, I was in Dexter’s old bedroom again. I lay on his bare chest, looking at the ceiling. The police had taken my statement and my tears had subsided.

“How’s Phoebe?” I asked.

He cleared his throat. “Actually, she’s flying in tomorrow with Rachel. I didn’t want to bring it up before with everything going on. I hope that doesn’t bother you. Rachel will be staying at her parents’ house with Phoebe.”

I thought it over. I wasn’t afraid of Rachel as a woman. I was nervous to be faced with her as a mother. That momentary jealousy seized me, and I knew without a doubt that I’d be protective over my child. And although Phoebe wasn’t Dexter’s biological child, he certainly loved her as if she were. Which meant Rachel could make this difficult.

“It doesn’t. But aren’t you worried she’ll resent me?” I felt like it was a legitimate concern. I had no idea what they’d shared but I knew that, at the end of the day, Dexter had left her for me. Whether it’d been years or days, Dexter ultimately left her in the hopes of finding me again. And that had to hurt.

“I don’t think so. Rachel isn’t like that. And she’s always said nice things about you.” I snorted. He laughed. “What?”

“If she had terrible things to say, she wouldn’t say them to you, smarty. You’re not exactly unbiased.”

“True,” he said, hugging me closer. “It’s no secret that I’m still in love with you. Always have been. Always will be.”

“Keep saying things like that and you’ll be stuck with me,” I whispered. I was getting used to his presence,
despite
myself. I was already thinking of him in my future. Dexter wasn’t a momentary fixture. He was in my life for good, it seemed.

“That’s the goal here.”

He fell asleep with me in his arms. While the details of the day circled over and over in my head, I turned toward him and closed my eyes. Already, I was better than I had been. Tolstoy had nothing on us.

•••

I woke up to the sound of light feet pattering outside the bedroom until the door creaked open.

“Daddy?”

My eyes flew open, and I was happy that I had clothes on. I sat up, clutching the sheets and looking over at a dead-to-the-world Dexter.

“Hi, sweetie,” I whispered. I got out of bed gently and scooped her up, bringing her to the bathroom with me. I closed the door. “I’m going to brush my teeth. You mind hanging out with me in here for a minute?”

She shook her head and sat on the toilet, swinging her feet and clutching at her backpack. I brushed my teeth and she watched, as if it were the most interesting thing she’d ever seen. When I was done, I scooped her back up and carried her downstairs. I hadn’t gotten far when I heard a tentative voice call out my name.

I whirled around, child on hip, and faced Rachel. That straight red hair shone in the morning light and her eyes sparkled with uncertainty.

“Mommy! It’s Noa.” Phoebe hugged me and I set her down, much to her dislike. She grabbed at me again and I picked her back up.

“Hi, Rachel,” I said, offering my hand. She looked at me with a grin and shook her head, pulling me in for a hug.

“So formal, Noa.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and held out her arms for Phoebe. The child went eagerly, and I heard Tracey walk up behind me.

“
Ladies. Coffee time? Thankfully, the men of the house aren’t up yet.” We followed her into the kitchen, and I sat at the kitchen island where I used to sit for Tracey’s first serving of coffee.

She set out three mugs and pulled a sippy cup out for Phoebe, mixing chocolate milk while the coffee brewed. She handed the child the cup with a kiss.

“It’s strange,” Tracey started as she poured the mugs and took out the cream and sugar before handing them to Rachel to mix. “I’m something of a matriarch here. I suppose I have to thank Dexter’s mom for that. But, I have to say, I’m lucky to have two very special ladies in this family as a result of it.” She handed me my black coffee while she sipped hers with a wink.

“I guess I’m trying to make sure you both get along. Rachel, I know you’re sweet as pie, and Noa, you’re an angel with a feisty little temper. But if you can’t get along for Dexter, do it for her,” she said as she pointed to Phoebe. “I’m not saying you need to hear any of this, but it’s better to be proactive than reactive. Neither of you will come out winning, should you both decide to take the childish route.”

We both nodded and continued drinking our coffee. Obviously, Tracey was right. But I had no intention of ever letting it get that far.

“I…I actually met someone,” Rachel said, causing Tracey set her mug down and run around the counter to hug her. “It’s still new but it’s wonderful.” She laughed and hugged Tracey back, all the while Phoebe tried to feed her doll her chocolate milk.

“What’s all the ruckus?” Dexter stood in the doorway, scratching his chin. Phoebe shot up at the sound of his voice and jumped into his arms, shrieking.

“Rachel’s met someone,” Tracey said, stepping back from the very embarrassed woman. Her cheeks were pink and she looked at Dexter with loving eyes. It
still
didn’t bother me because those eyes were looking at a friend now.

“That’s great,” he said as he looked at Phoebe while she pinched his cheeks. I sipped my coffee and excused myself. I had to get dressed and ready to start planning Tim’s arrangements.

My leaving the table had absolutely nothing to do with Dexter.
Nothing at all
, I thought to myself. I knew I was lying.

I stripped off my clothes and started the shower, letting the water warm before getting in. I was rinsing conditioner from my hair when I felt him climb in behind me.

“What is it?” His mouth was so close to my ear that I couldn’t fight the shiver as I felt the heat of his breath.

“Nothing. Just dreading today. I kind of have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve never planned anything on my own before, let alone a funeral.” I turned and his hands reached for me. His body had a mist of water on it but he wasn’t wet yet, standing outside the showerhead’s reach.

“I’m a great planner. Where should we start?”

I groaned.

“I can’t focus on anything when we’re both naked and you’re touching me.” I leaned my head against the shower wall and he backed away. “No, I didn’t mean for you to stop touching me. I meant for you to stop talking.”