29. Graham
TWENTY-NINE
GRAHAM
There was so much else to get through, but a weight lifted at finally being heard. Granted, I’m not sure it would have changed anything back then, but there were things I’d needed to say and had spent weeks trying to be heard.
It felt good to finally have Holly sit and listen to me, to understand what had happened. I would never see Sophie again. I’d probably never see Piper again. What I hadn’t gotten the chance to tell Holly was that after that day, about a week later, when Piper came over to try to console me, she’d not only done it so poorly, she’d thrown herself at me.
It had taken a split second of her lips on mine for me to shove her away and toss her out.
The last time I spoke to her was at our graduation parties, and that was only because her parents and my dad threw ours together. I’d avoided her then and had told her after that party to never speak to me again.
I’d held good on that promise.
I made my way to the door, the tip of my tongue burning to say more. To tell her everything I knew. To tell her about Eli and to tell her about my conversations with my dad. But it could wait.
At least through dinner. Holly already looked like she’d been smacked in the face, but I couldn’t bring myself to apologize for the way I spoke either.
Telling her felt good, but reliving it also brought up old pain and anger.
I answered the door, grabbed the pizza, and thanked the delivery driver. When I turned, Holly was in the kitchen, taking plates out of the upper cupboard.
“Thank you,” I said, and slid the two medium pizzas along with an order of garlic knots onto the counter.
“Thank you,” she said. Her smile was soft, her eyes sad. I had a feeling that thank you meant a lot more than the pizza.
With a nod, I let her know I understood.
“Can we drop the heavy stuff for dinner?” she asked.
A dinner where I could simply enjoy my time with Holly after six years? A dinner where we didn’t keep reliving everything that went wrong, and I could tease her, laugh as she sassed me back, and I got to see her smile?
There was no other answer except, “Absolutely.”
She shook her head with her lips pressed together like she was fighting that smile I liked so much and flipped open a box. She instantly closed her eyes and inhaled. With a reverent tone, she whispered, “Scalecki’s is the best pizza ever. Prepare to be amazed, Mr. Marchese.”
I was every time I was around her, and knowing she’d stepped up to take care of Jonah only had me feeling that way more, but I had six weeks to let her know that.
Six weeks to calm down, take things slower, and try to see if we can make anything good that could be rebuilt from the ashes we left behind before.
“All right,” I finally said. “Let’s eat. Want to watch a show?”
“No.” She slid a piece of pepperoni mushroom pizza onto her plate. The heavy scent of tomato and garlic and spices filled the condo. “I want to know what teaching’s like. And coaching.”
“You’re on.” I grabbed my own pizza, heavy on the meat, and Scalecki’s looked like they definitely had a heavy hand with the cheese. It was thick, gooey, not overly greasy, and the crust wasn’t too thick.
Nothing I hated more than biting into pizza and finding a mouthful of bread.
My first bite had me closing my eyes in wonder.
“Dang,” I murmured around sausage and pepperoni and bacon and cheese. I might have groaned, too. “This is good .”
Holly hid her smile and mouthful of food behind her napkin. “Told you. Louie Scalecki’s gift of cooking had to come straight from the hand of God.” She patted the edges of her lips and grinned at me.
“I can’t argue about that.”
I polished off a slice and started working on my second. I should have ordered two larges. I could eat this every day. Fortunate for me that for the next six weeks, Scalecki’s was a short walk away.
Louie and I were going to become good friends. He just didn’t know it yet.
“Teaching,” I finally said, after I raved for a few more minutes about the pizza. “It’s a blast. So much harder than I imagined it would be, and also so much better.”
“You’re teaching chemistry?”
“I wish, but no. Not right now. I’m actually teaching biology. It’s not my favorite, but things change, and I’m still young enough that I’m okay with the wait. I love my hockey team I coach. We made the playoffs last year, and it was the first time in the school’s history they went that far.”
Holly gave me a smile, like she was proud of me. “That’s great, Graham. I can see you being a really good coach.”
“Yeah?” My head tilted to the side. “Why?”
“Because you’re patient and kind. Because you know how to get what you want from people. I can see you inspiring them, encouraging them to keep trying.”
“Man, Holly.” I leaned back on the couch. “That almost sounds like you like me.”
She rolled her eyes, and I chuckled.
I let it go.
While we finished eating, I told her about some of the kids on the team and the difference between living in a smaller town than I’d grown up in around Raleigh. Because I was involved in the school and sports, every time I went to the store, I ran into either a parent, a fellow staff member or teacher, or a student. It’d made me nervous at first to do something simple like grabbing a bottle of wine or a six-pack of beer. It’d given me an appreciation for what Holly had grown up living with, really. That feeling of always being watched, everyone knowing you and your business. It’d faded with time, and maybe for Holly it had, too. She didn’t really act like it bothered her anymore, and she had friends now.
A support system with Jonah.
As soon as I thought of him, I realized the funtime was over.
“Can I ask you something?”
The light faded from her eyes, and she chewed on the inside of her cheek. With a nod, she said, “Go ahead.”
“Your dad. Do you still…?”
“I don’t talk to him anymore.”
She didn’t make it sound like a good thing, and I gave her a moment.
Eventually she blew out a breath and scratched at the back of her neck. “I hated him. I was always so mad at him after Mom left and he fell apart, but I also kept hoping he’d do better, you know?”
She didn’t ask like she really expected an answer, and since I didn’t know anything about having a parent like that, I stayed silent. Not that she gave me time to answer before she continued.
“He only called for money, that was why I never answered. I mean, God”—she laughed—“you didn’t even know where I lived, but it was such a crappy place. It reeked like spilled beer and smoke. We had to move into it when I was in high school when he lost the house.”
My stomach plummeted, both in anger for her and realization of how much she kept hidden from me. We’d been together for months, and I didn’t even know where she lived.
“It was this nasty trailer, and I was working two jobs, and every time he got access to the phone, he called me collect—which only cost me more money—to ask for more.” She sniffed and stared at the blacked-out television screen, like she couldn’t bear to look at me. “That was why I didn’t answer when he called around you. I couldn’t handle it, and I didn’t want you to know that part about me.”
“What part? The part where you are kind and hopeful? The part where you admitted you wanted a decent parent?”
A tear slipped down her cheek. It took everything in me to stay in my spot, to not lunge to hold her.
She sniffed and wiped at her cheeks with her napkin. “I talked to him once after Mom dropped off Jonah. I mentioned Mom coming, and he got so excited thinking she was back. That she’d take care of him or something, which was stupid. I told him what she did, and he blamed me for it. Said if I’d been better, she never would have left. Told me it was all my fault because I made her get hurt.”
Screw staying in my seat. I moved as close as I could since she was in the chair and set my hand on her arm. “It wasn’t. You know that.”
She shrugged, barely listening to me, so lost in the guilt that wasn’t hers to bear.
“Anyway, he got pissed she’d already left, and then when I told her about Jonah, he lost his mind. He told me he wanted nothing to do with him, but that I still owed him for being in prison in the first place. Caroline finally convinced me I didn’t need him, but it didn’t take much. I looked at Jonah, and even though he wasn’t mine, he was mine, you know?”
She glanced at me, and I nodded. Of course I understood that.
“He was five months old when that happened. I stared at Jonah, his tiny little face, his pudgy little body, and knew without a doubt I would never treat him like that, regardless of what happened. That made me realize how bad my dad was for me. I called the prison and was able to get myself removed as an approved visitor or someone he could speak to.”
“I’m really proud of you.” I squeezed her arm until she looked at me. “That took a lot of courage. You should be proud of yourself for that.”
“I didn’t want Jonah to grow up seeing it.” She cried as she said it. “And then I thought, why did I have to grow up like that? Ugh.” She swiped at her cheeks and smiled through her tears. “It was years ago, and it’s stupid for it to still make me cry.”
It wasn’t at all. Hell, I had a ball of emotion clogging my own throat.
It was time to rip the rest of the past away, and so squeezing her arm, I said, “I told my dad about you. All those years ago. I told him everything.”
She whipped her head so quickly toward me I was surprised she didn’t snap her neck.
“What? Why!?”
* * *
The condo was silent. Holly had jumped from the chair, stared at me like I’d personally slapped her, and then ran off to the bathroom. The door slammed. The lock clicked.
I’d gaped at her reaction and then resettled myself on the couch.
I figured it would take her a minute to gather herself, but ten minutes later, she was still in there. I was just about to get up and check on her when the lock clicked again and the door squeaked as it opened.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and it was clear she’d been washing and drying her face. “I think about that night and how I handled it, and I think about everything your family had gone through because of mine. And I just…”
She came back, and shocking me, she didn’t take a seat on the chair. She sat at the other end of the couch opposite me, curling her legs beneath her so she was sitting criss-cross and put her hands in her lap. “I just…your dad. Sophie’s dad was a friend of his, right?”
“Yeah, we were really close with the governor.”
The November before Sophie’s death, he’d been re-elected governor for a second term. He immediately stepped down to take the time to be with his family and his two other daughters. They moved away from North Carolina shortly after and now lived in Connecticut, where his wife had grown up. My dad and he still kept in touch, and Dad made annual trips up north to see him. Whether Dad ever told him or not about my connection to the man who killed his daughter, I didn’t actually know. But I think the fact that they didn’t still live in our neighborhood was a part of why it was easier for my dad to accept Holly and me meeting.
I gave her that quick rundown, leaving out the end. “You know, he doesn’t blame you, Holly. He never did. He was shocked for sure, but he saw how worked up about it I was, and he listened. He’s a fair man. Your dad was at fault, and that means your dad’s actions left you alone. The only one to blame in any of this is him. People in Deer Creek might have warped your view of that, but it doesn’t change my dad’s opinion.”
She scoffed, like she couldn’t believe it. I was learning that Holly simply had a hard time believing there were purely good people in the world. I couldn’t fault her for it, fully. I hoped that the time would come, though, where she wouldn’t view everyone who came into her life as if preparing to hurt her.
“So if I showed up at dinner with your dad, he’d welcome me with open arms?”
“He’s not much of a hugger, so the arms wouldn’t be open.”
“Shut up.” She chuckled. “How do you do this?”
“Do what?”
“Make everything a joke. You make life sound so easy, and it’s just…that’s not my experience.”
“Maybe because you’re always waiting for the shoe to drop, and I’m looking to see the good.”
Her face scrunched in displeasure, but before she could argue, I leaned toward her.
“You have to realize that everyone has something bad happen to them. Piper had crappy parents. I lost my mom. You lost yours in a different way. There are few people who escape their life unscathed from trauma, Holly. My dad’s a good man. Was he shocked? Yes. Was he upset? Yeah, because it brought up his memories of Sophie, and it’s absolutely shitty she was taken away from all of us so soon. Is he still pissed at your dad? Probably. Does he forgive him? I have no clue. I didn’t ask my dad where he stands on that. But what my dad does understand is that you are not your dad. You didn’t give him alcohol. You didn’t tell him to drive away. You didn’t even stand there and support him, and I know that because while I wasn’t at the trial, my dad was. He would have known if you would have been sitting there. As far as he’s concerned, you were dealt a shitty hand, and you kept working to create a better one for yourself. That doesn’t make you weak or not worthy of knowing, it makes you honorable and strong.”
If I had to keep hitting her over the head with truth, I would. Some day she’d look at herself in the mirror and believe it all.
She rubbed her hands down her thighs and shook her head. “Are you suggesting that if I would have stayed that night, everything would have been fine? It would have been a little blip, and then life would have moved on?”
Since she sounded like she honestly wanted to know, like maybe she’d thought of that question a dozen times over the years, I gave her an honest answer.
“I have no idea. I don’t care about what could have happened six years ago. I care about what’s happening now.”
Her lips parted, and she stared at me. Her hands balled into a fist, and she licked her lips.
“Six years ago, you didn’t give me the chance to help you or to be there for you and Jonah. I want that chance now.”
She blinked rapidly several times, and the color drained from her face. “What do you?—?”
“I talked to Eli.”