Haunt Me (Heartbreaker Duet #2)

thirty-seven

Faith and I drop in next door to have brunch with Walter and Eden as if nothing’s happened.

Walter doesn’t ask me why I came from his other daughter’s house, or why my eyes are red and swollen. Eden does not meet my gaze, but I notice that she is trembling; she drops her plate twice. I gently take it from her and fill it with pancakes with warm maple syrup, a dusting of powdered sugar, and fresh berries—her favorite breakfast.

I place it in front of her like a waiter. She doesn’t look up. I watch as she pretends to eat while eating nothing at all. I can’t call her out on it, though, as I am doing the same. We just sip black coffee and avoid each other. So, all in all, things are pretty much as usual.

Thankfully, Manuela, Justin and Noah arrive in a few minutes, and the kitchen explodes with chattering and baby gibberish. The little family always brings chaos in its wake, and I have never been more thankful for it. The tension breaks, and I end up trying to juggle an eager toddler and an even eager-er dog, both of whom seem to want to climb into my lap at the same time. Eden bursts out laughing as she bends over to help detangle me from the chaos.

Our eyes meet. Her cheeks grow hot. The blood drains from my head.

But hey, it’s progress. We looked at each other.

Everyone kind of settles down to eat again, and I even manage to swallow a few bites as I sit there, firmly lodged between Noah and Pooh. Finally, there is blessed silence, broken by nothing but the sounds of coffee being poured and loud chewing. But suddenly it’s the silence gives me a lump in my throat, because this is not a tense silence—it is the silence of home. It’s the silence that speaks of safety and love.

‘The silence screamed of home,’ my brain says .

It’s starting to get super annoying, these lyrics appearing out of nowhere. Inspiration has never been this violent.

Just let me have breakfast with a toddler and a dog like a normal person, please? Pretty please? I beg it, but it won’t listen.

‘The silence screamed of quiet school mornings

All of our ghosts sitting down to breakfast.’

Suddenly, Faith rises so abruptly her chair’s legs screech against the tiles. She bolts for the door, a hand over her mouth. Everyone’s eyes snap to her. Eden is already on her feet, rushing after her sister before she’s even out of the room, sending me a quick glance. I follow them.

Faith is halfway up the stairs, trying to stifle her sobs with both hands pressed over her face.

“Fee?” Eden calls, overtaking her. “What’s wrong?”

“Memories,” Faith gasps, crying so much she can barely breathe. “In the smells. They… they bring everything back.”

I get it. I suck in a breath as if I’ve been hit in the gut. Faith is right. Memories live in the smells, I can attest to that. Smells can catch you unawares, betray your emotions, bring up stuff you thought you’d buried deep. When you smell something from your childhood or from the past, everything comes back clearly, even things you have forgotten or repressed on purpose.

It's happening again all over for you, right now, no matter how much time has passed. Smells do that.

“The smell of autumn,” I say, looking up at Faith. “Of breakfast in winter. Of new books.”

“The smell of rotten leaves in the woods,” Eden adds, and we both turn to look at her. Faith slides down to sit on the top step, and Eden and I crouch down on either side of her. “Of rain on freshly-cut grass.”

Faith is nodding.

“Every year, I can barely face the Christmas lights without thinking about it,” she says. “But we’ve never… We’ve never been such a big family before, you know?”

I look away. No, I don’t know. It’s been so long since I was part of a big family, I can barely remember it. Mom, Dad, Grandpa, Grandma, James and me around a table… It’s nothing but the echo of a dream I have long since woken from .

“I just think… at every big moment like this…” Faith wipes her nose with the back of her hand. “How much she would have loved it.”

“Who would have loved it, Fee?” Eden asks.

“Mom. Our mom,” Faith says.

“Oh,” Eden looks at me helplessly. “I’m sorry. The pain… it never goes away, does it?”

Faith shakes her head. “I wish you had known her.”

“I wish I had,” Eden agrees softly.

And it hits me all over again, how Eden lost her father too. Well, she lost the man she thought was her father, but her heart doesn’t know that it wasn’t real, does it? Her heart feels the same grief, the same pain over losing a parent as Faith’s does. As mine does.

Eden hugs Faith and they stay like that until Faith stops crying. I try to stand up to give them some privacy, but Faith grabs my hand to stop me.

“Stay until the pain dulls,” she tells me, and I nod.

I have never thought about it like that. ‘Until the pain dulls’. It’s never going to stop, I know that, but if someone hugs you tightly enough, it might dull a little. Enough for you to smile. So we both stay until Faith can breathe again.

When she is better and we’re about to follow her back to the kitchen, a sudden sixth feeling makes me touch Eden’s shoulder.

“You ok?” I ask her. Faith is already down the stairs; we are alone.

She shrugs.

“Tell me what’s hurting,” I beg.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. To me, you can.”

“It’s… what Faith said about my mom missing this.” Eden waves her hand. “You feel like that, don’t you, when you lose someone? You constantly think of them, thinking that they might have liked this, hated that… You think of a year in the past, and you wonder—what year was this? Was it before high school? What grade was I in? Was my little nephew born yet?”

A muscle in my jaw jumps. She is describing the experience of grief perfectly, breaking my heart into a million pieces.

“But all I think is,” she goes on, “was he alive then? Was he here? And if he wasn’t, how fresh was his absence? And if he was still alive, how close was time to taking him away from me? Their absence is how you measure time. ”

I’m already nodding.

“You know,” she says, looking at me.

“I do.”

“Well, I do too,” Eden says. “I lost him too, you know, and to me he was… well, he wasn’t a monster. I didn’t see him like that, not back then. For years, he was my fa—I don’t want to say it, but that’s what he was to me for most of my life. I… I keep having these thoughts, this grief. Like, he’s missing this. Or, where is he right now? Is he safe?”

I am silent. Helpless. What on earth can I give her in this moment but my utter silence—and respect?

“And then,” Eden continues, “it hits me all over again. He’s not here anymore. And, worst of all? He never was. It was all a nightmare. A lie. And I shouldn’t be missing him, but I am. I am. ”

“Come here.” I wrap myself around her and hold on for dear life. “You grief is valid,” I say into her temple. “Your feelings are real, Eden. No one can take away what you felt. There was nothing to lose by loving him; nothing to lose and everything to gain. It’s what you do, Eden: you love. Whether the other person deserves it or not. And grief is the price you pay for love, so all your grief is, is love. No one can tell you that your love wasn’t real, so your grief is real too. I can feel it, beating against my chest. Your grief, Eden.”

I press her even closer to me. I can feel her breaths, every single one.

“I will only ask you to forget him if I see you hurting when you remember. But grief… Grief I know, and grief is the one thing you are entitled to. Do you understand me?”

She nods against my chest. She isn’t crying. Not yet. I only hope that I’m around when she eventually does.

“I don’t think I am allowed to feel grief for him,” she says.

“I know it’s hard for all of us to feel grief for this monster.” I shudder.

“This monster raised me,” Eden says, her voice sounding dull. Numb. As if she’s had this conversation inside her head a thousand times. “I lived a normal life most of the time. He wasn’t violent. He wasn’t like… He wasn’t like he was in the end. I think the enormity of what he had done, of how it would look in a court of law, caught up to him, and he couldn’t handle it. But he hadn’t been like that the whole time. Or maybe he had, and that’s all I know. Maybe he thought that because he bought me things, he had actually been kind to me.”

I am silent .

“But he did raise me,” she adds. “Don’t forget that.”

She is saying it to herself, I realize. ‘Don’t forget that.’

But what if she does forget that part? What if forgetting it only brings her healing?

“You raised yourself, baby,” I murmur into her hair, rubbing my hands down her back. “I may be a complete idiot, but at least I know that. You are the only one responsible for what you have become today. It’s all down to you. Your strength, and your kind, warm heart. But as for the rest… There is nothing but loss there. I’m sorry. Loss that needs to be mourned. So be sad, Eden, if you want. You can be sad with me. If you want permission to be sad about him, I’m giving it to you. Your pain about him carries meaning about who you are and it is valid.”

“You mean that if I miss him and wish he was still here, that doesn’t make me a horrible person?” she asks. “A monster like him?”

I swallow with difficulty. I need to bite down hard on my lip so I don’t say anything about the ‘wishing he was still here’ part. Or the ‘monster like him’ part.

“You are the most amazing person I have met, Eden,” I say, my voice trembling with intensity. I won’t fall apart now, because if I do, I will start screaming and breaking things. Her . I will break her. And I won’t allow myself to do that, not ever. “And you know it’s true, because I have met almost all the persons in the world.” She laughs dryly. “He will never hurt you again, baby. That is a fact.”

“That helps,” she says.

“Yeah?” All the air goes out of me. I hold my breath.

It does?

“Yeah. You are making me safe to feel whatever I need to feel. And, at the same time, to start accepting the truth.”

For a second it’s impossible to speak.

I imagine Faith giving me her ‘no crying’ death-stare, so I close my eyes.

“That’s good,” I say in a strangled voice. “It’s good.”

…

Back downstairs, we sit around digesting that seven-course breakfast, and waiting for the rest of our friends to arrive so we can make plans for the day. I pick up my violin and make up music, hoping to make Eden fall so hopelessly in love with me that she won’t think of any more reasons not to date me. If she does, she doesn’t show it.

Then Mom calls me, and I go to a quiet room to take the call. Her hands are getting worse, she tells me calmly, and my chest constricts. So, she has booked less concerts, but she is working almost every other day now that it’s the holiday season.

“What can I do?” I ask her.

“Talk to me,” she replies. “How are things with you?”

I tell her everything, and she listens. She loves the idea of me revealing my real name. Of me not hiding anymore.

“Will you feel comfortable with all the press exposure that would follow an album release?” she asks me, and I pause. The one-million-dollar question. How to do one without the other. Because, honestly, I do not plan on talking to the press. Ever.

“Not really,” I admit to my mom.

“Zay,” she says, and her sweet, calm voice an anchor amid the chaos in my heart, “I don’t mind the fact that my career is ending prematurely. If I was well, I could have gone on to play twenty, even fifty more years, who knows? But I feel fulfilled, even if I have to stop tomorrow—and I might have to,” she laughs. I don’t. “I am truly ok with that. I am not just saying it so you won’t worry. Do you know why I’m ok?”

“Why?”

“Because I have accomplished everything I ever wanted to do or dreamed of doing. Beyond any dreams, really. I got to accompany your dad’s singing, I got to travel the world, I got to play in my favorite places in the world. I got to share this precious gift with him. And I did it on my own terms. I am not angry that I have to stop, because I have loved every step of the way: I am happy.”

I close my eyes to better concentrate on her voice. She means it , I realize. She truly is happy and at peace, even though she has had so many horrible things happen to her. One after another. One more is happening to her as we speak—her hands. How absurdly unfair life is.

“That’s all I want for you, too, honey,” Mom says, and she honestly doesn’t sound bitter at all. Unlike me. “To be true to yourself, to what you want. To just… love it.”

After we hang up, I call James.

He is working his ass off at his music academy in Paris—no holidays for him either. Christmas is the busiest season for musicians. James sounds relieved to hear that I am at Eden’s house. Who is worrying about whom in this family? I should be worrying about him.

I am the eldest son, after all, but whatever. We make plans to spend New Year’s Eve in Paris, the three of us: Mom, James and me. I decide I’ll let them have an earful about worrying about me then.

Once I’m done with James, I call Skye.

“Merry Christmas,” he says cheerfully. He has flown back to California for the holidays.

Outside my window, the snow is turning into rain. The sky is miserable, the color of lead, and everything looks icy-white and blue. But for once, I don’t miss California.

“I need time,” I tell him. “I need to make some decisions about the new album and my new name. I need to stay true to what I want, no matter what the label wants.”

“I’m listening,” Skye says.

We spend the next half hour just talking over every problem that might come up, and trying to brainstorm possible solutions. At some point, Eden bursts into the room, in a hurry to grab something, and the minute she sees me there, talking on the phone, she goes red. She turns on her heel and leaves.

“I’m going to have to call you back, Skye.” I hung up on him, running after Eden.

“Hey!” I stop her just before she turns left into the living room where everyone else is hanging out.

“Hey,” she replies, going all shy on me.

My body tightens in response. Not now, body. Behave yourself.

“Did you need something?” I ask her. “Or just my attention?”

“I didn’t know you were in ther—”

“Because you have it.”

“Yeah,” she smiles and I melt. “You said that before.”

The entire embarrassment of last night washes over me in waves, and I sway on my feet. But Eden is laughing.

“You and I haven’t caught up yet, have we?” I ask her, leaning back into the wall.

“It sounded like you were on an important call,” she says, looking at the phone still on my hand.

I fling it onto a random bookshelf.

“I was,” I reply. “Now I’m with you.”

She tucks her hair behind her ears, and I don’t know how I control myself. That’s my job , I think fiercely. I do that, I tuck your hair back, right before I tip up your chin and lower my head to —

“Tell me about college,” I say quickly, my voice trembling a little. “How is it?”

She tells me what classes she is taking, and how it feels to be on her own, away from home. Building her future. She’s gotten a job at a café as well. I don’t know if she’s realized it yet, but the royalties she is going to be getting from writing my songs will make her quite wealthy for the rest of her life.

But I doubt she cares about any of that. She gets really animated talking about the law and sociology classes she is taking at Harvard, and about her plans for working with troubled teens in the future. She has started volunteering already. I’m glowing with pride.

“Do you still have time for your writing?” I ask and she raises an eyebrow.

“It’s the other way round: I can’t stop,” she says and we laugh. “I even took some writing classes, but it was weird, because the professors recognized me from Olivia’s coronation.”

I flinch, my body hardening, getting into fight mode.

She sees it. “Don’t worry,” she says softly. “Everyone was very discreet. They were really amazing people.”

I exhale and she laughs. At me. Nice.

“Plus, one of my law professors made them all sign NDAs, so I’m safe.”

“Safe,” I repeat it as if it’s a lifeline.

“Would you just breathe, Isaiah?” Eden nudges me. I try to obey her, but I’m having a hard time. “It’s bad enough that we have half the star system of the planet in this house without you choking on air on me.”

Well, that doesn’t make it any easier for me to calm down. Everyone in this Christmas group, including me, has put their lives on hold in order to be here. For Eden. Because we love her. And the fact that she can’t see it makes me murderous.

“Ok, here is something ridiculous,” Eden says, seeing my eyes go fierce, “Dad keeps sending me phone numbers of girls near my age, from his college. He wants to find girlfriends for me. It’s cute.”

That is so ridiculous and so like Walter, that I forget my panic and smile.

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” Eden replies. “I don’t mind. I always call them, you know. It’s good practice. He picks them carefully: they are all bookworms, so I’ve clicked with most of them. We are in the process of forming our own book club. Besides,” she adds after a beat, completely destroying my heart, “it’s fun to text someone. You know, someone who isn’t myself.”

I choke on air.

…

It’s around noon when Theo finally deigns to wake up. He arrives with his head of security in tow, and that worthy individual forcefully advises us to ‘stay in for a few days’. Nobody messes with Theo’s head of security—not if they want to stay alive in the slightest—so we all resign ourselves to stay inside what Lou has dubbed ‘Christmasland’, otherwise known as Walter’s house.

Secretly, I am loving this. Every time I step foot inside this house, I never want to leave it. And now, I don’t even have to pretend I’m sad we’re stranded in here.

Eden, Ari and Noah are busy draping more tinsel, bows and ivy on the staircase banisters until the steps themselves are nearly invisible. Meanwhile Lou, Faith, Manuela and Spencer— Spencer , of all people — get busy in the kitchen. Lou is apparently ‘famous’—and I use the word loosely—for her dark chocolate and mint cupcakes, and Manuela, Spencer and Faith are trying to prove that you can have too many cooks in the kitchen. Judging from the screeching that is coming from down there, I think they have already done an amazing job.

Walter is talking animatedly about education in America with two of our security guards—they both have kids in college—and Justin pops outside to shovel the freshly-fallen snow from the pavement. He’s quickly followed by a gurgling Noah, and Pooh, hot on his heels. Justin doesn’t even bat an eyelash as he sets down all his gear to swaddle the baby and the dog in a million scarves before they venture out on the icy conditions.

At some point, I notice Theo holding his head in a corner by the Christmas tree. I almost rush over, but Eden gets to him first. Theo looks up at her as if she is his personal savior. She smiles at him and calls him ‘Teddy’. He buries his head in her stomach and cries like a little kid. I look away.

...

Pretty soon, icy rain is pelting the windows, but inside, the fireplace is blazing. Theo and Walter are reading Dickens in front of it cozily, and the smell of something delicious wafts over from the kitchen .

“Now this feels like a proper Victorian Christmas house party,” Spencer says, smirking smugly, as if he had anything to do with the turkey that’s currently in the oven. Maybe he did; nothing normal is happening in this house right now. Spencer glances at his watch. “Since we have a few hours until the bird is ready, what do you say we prepare a production?”

“Did you say ‘a few hours’?” Manuela jumps up from the sofa where she was cuddling Noah, both of them half-asleep. He looks around, confused, his cheeks red.

“We say it’s a lame idea,” Ari says at the same time that Eden whispers:

“Yes!”

Everyone turns to look at her, then turns abruptly around, as if they’ve just remembered we’re not to put her on the spot. She laughs.

“I like the idea,” she says, “but what do I know about what’s lame or what isn’t?”

“Easy rule of thumb,” Ari explains. “Everything that Wes says is usually lame. Then we all do as he says anyway, and we discover it’s brilliant.”

“Ah, we’ll make a Brit out of you yet,” Spencer beams at his girl, which gets him a playful smack on the neck. He grabs Ari by the waist and kisses her on the mouth, as if he can’t help himself.

Lou pantomimes gagging and I laugh. Eden looks down at her Christmas bear slippers and blushes and I stop laughing. The need to kiss her right now, in a way that will steal her breath and make her beg for more, nearly incapacitates me for a second.

Theo says: “This Victorian house party is getting too graphic.”

I don’t know how it happens, but pretty soon, everyone hunkers down to prepare a ‘Christmas play’, which Spencer is optimistic we will be allowed to perform at the community center—I doubt our security teams will think it’s a good idea—but he seems sure of it.

It turns out that the community center down the block is important to the girls and Walter: they’ve spent a lot of weekends and holidays there, especially after Eden’s mom passed. They used to feed the homeless, give classes to the children, and put up little performances for them. Wes is in love with all the stories they have to tell. He listens to Walter and Faith talk about it, and his eyes glow. He pledges to give money to it, but he wants to do more .

“I’d like to do something real for them,” he says, his voice turned serious. “I’d love to get to know them, the people who helped you survive.”

Walter nods. “I’m sure they would love that too,” he says, “even though we never had a billionaire interested in our affairs before.”

“He’s not a billionaire anymore,” Theo murmurs from his corner.

“Aren’t you a billionaire?” Faith gasps without thinking. I wince. Now is not the time, Fee. Seems like the drama production has started.

“Not anymore,” Wes replies to her, calmly.

“What? What happened—”

“Fee!” Manuela sounds so horrified I have to bite back a chuckle.

“Sorry.” Faith goes beet-red.

“No, it’s fine,” Wes shrugs. “I gave it away.”

“You did? And you’re shrugging about it?”

“There was no way to be who I wanted to be unless I did that,” Spencer replies, as if he’s had this conversation before. I smile: he has, with me. “Besides, that’s more money than I and my offspring can spend in fifteen lifetimes, right?”

“Right,” Faith says. Then she goes pale. “Wait, what?”

“Bottom line,” Spencer explains patiently, “I didn’t need it. So I lost my ranking in the… That’s not important right now. The treasure is right here.” His eyes roam over to Ari and I’m about to lose it, because I too have a treasure right here, but she won’t even look my way.

Play it cool.

Wait her out.

Stay.

Even if she doesn’t end up with me. I will stay in her life for as long as she needs me to. Or allows me to.