Chapter 5
A lex
Late August
“I can’t believe you said no before you even let me explain why I want it,” Abbie whines.
“I said no because you’re twelve. I don’t care why you want it, Abigail.”
“It’s just a nose ring! It’s not a big deal.”
“It is a big deal. Again, you’re twelve. I’m pretty sure the middle school rules even state you can’t have anything other than ear piercings, but that’s beside the point. I said no. When you’re older, we can discuss it again.”
“Like … next year?” she asks hopefully. “Like … maybe for my thirteenth birthday?”
“Like … no. Maybe for your sixteenth birthday.”
“God, Dad! You’re such a jerk, and I hate you!” With her hair hitting me in the face as she whirls around, I watch my daughter’s retreating form stomping from the room. I sigh as I slump back in my chair, already exhausted from a long day, and arguing with Abbie doesn’t help the headache that’s been threatening to explode since lunch.
“You weren’t kidding about the attitude, man,” my brother, Dominic, says as he steps in the kitchen.
“What are you doing here?” I ask as I rub my temples.
“Mom asked me if I’d be okay taking the kids instead of her this evening. I guess Dad fell again, so she’s got him at Urgent Care to see if he needs to go to the emergency room.”
“Shit,” I say under my breath. “That’s like the third time this year he’s fallen.”
“Well, he refuses to acknowledge the fact that he’s getting older, and he won’t go to the optometrist to get his eyes checked. My guess is he needs glasses, or he has cataracts, neither of which will solve themselves.”
“I’ll stop by their house on my next off day and see if I can talk some sense into him,” I murmur. Our father, Nick Santo, has always been a stoic guy, but I get along with him better than my siblings. It’s possibly due to me being the oldest, or it could be that our personalities are somewhat similar. Whatever the case, he needs to slow down before he ends up sending our mother to an early grave from incessant worrying.
“Why’d you need a sitter tonight anyway? I thought you worked the day shift,” Dominic says.
“I do. Town open house tonight,” I tell him. Once a quarter, our small touristy town of Eternity Springs, nestled into the mountains to the west of Denver, Colorado, holds an open house for all new residents. A representative from police, fire, utilities, and town council delivers a few words and introductions, then passes out materials for the residents to take. I drew the short straw this quarter.
“One of the best decisions I ever made was delegating that task from my desk onto Hannah’s,” Dominic muses. Hannah, our brother Luca’s wife, is in charge of special events for our family hotel.
“I’d delegate if I could, but I figured my time was coming. They let me avoid it for this long. Not sure what I’m going to say to these people though.”
“Just say how you’re proud to serve them, the crime rate is low, and the most newsworthy topics in Eternity are related to that stupid marmot stealing shit. Actually, tell them to keep their doors locked. I found a diary of Mrs. Michaelson’s in the trees at the top of the property last week, and some of the pages were chewed on. She claimed she didn’t fully close her front door a couple weeks ago, and Mason got in there.”
“I fucking hate that marmot.” Some towns have dogs as their mayors, or bears that wave as you drive by. I’m not quite sure why we were gifted a critter that should live above tree-line, but instead wreaks havoc on our small town by stealing things from residents, then posing with his treasures in doorbell camera lenses at different houses. Half the people love him, and half despise his existence. I’m not even sure who named him Mason, if there is more than one Mason, or if Mason is even a boy. Did someone catch and release him? Who knows.
“I hate him too. Seems like all the men in this town understand he’s a terror, and the women think he’s adorable and quirky.”
“What does Kate think? Sara thought he was cute,” I tell Dom.
He smiles widely, a smile I now recognize as the one reserved for his wife. “Katharine is the exception. She thinks he’s adorable, but hates the trouble he causes. He absconded with one of her bras a few weeks ago. Minor compared to what happened with Ari, though.”
“How the hell did he manage that one? And do I want to know what happened with Ari?”
Dom chuckles. “She forgot to grab it from the night before. We, uh, were in our backyard, and, uh …”
“Nope. That’s enough. No more,” I tell him, making a big show of plugging my ears with my fingers. “How did you figure out Mason took it? Wait. I don’t care about that either.”
“Good call. So you haven’t heard what happened to Arianna?”
“No,” I respond.
“Shit. I thought she would have gone to you first. You need to talk to her about it.”
“If it’s going to involve a story like yours with Kate, I don’t know if I want to hear anything,” I tell him.
“Whatever, asshole. Tell your kids to get going. Katharine’s making dinner, and I need to get your two back so we can feed them all before hanger takes over.”
“Ben!” I shout, then jump when my shoulder is tapped from behind. “Jesus, Ben. How long have you been standing there?”
“Around three and a half minutes, I think,” he answers matter-of-factly.
I run through the conversation with Dom, checking to see if anything was inappropriate for Ben, and decide nothing was said that would scar him too badly. “You’re going to Uncle Dom’s for dinner.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” Ben says with a relieved exhale, his shoulders sinking as he settles into the chair next to me. “Nani keeps making lasagna because of Abbie, and I don’t want to eat it again.”
“Why? You’ve asked for it a hundred times.”
He shrugs. “Now I don’t want it anymore.”
“Alright. I’ll try to remember to tell Nani that. Where’s your sister?”
“Screaming along to a Sabrina Carpenter song in her room. Do we have any noise-canceling headphones? I’d like to keep them in my room. We share a wall, and Abbie could work on her tone and presentation. She’s off-key more than she’s on, Dad.”
For fuck’s sake. Getting up, I walk toward the stairs as I say, “I’ll look for the headphones when I get back after this meeting.”
Taking the stairs two at a time, the sound of screeching reaches me before I get to the door. I knock twice, and when my daughter doesn’t answer, I try the knob. It’s locked. Shaking my head, I reach for the top of the door trim, where I keep a key to get into the room. When I don’t find it, I know somehow Abbie has gotten it and hidden it from me. No worries, because I have spares. Heading into my room, I reach into the top drawer of my dresser, pulling out the small key. I’m unlocking Abbie’s door a moment later.
“Dad!” Abbie screams.
“What?” I answer calmly.
“You can’t just enter my room whenever you want! I thought I had —” she breaks off, her eyes widening as she realizes she’s admitted to taking the key.
“First of all, we had a rule, young lady. And you broke it when you locked the door, and stole the key. Secondly, I did knock. Your music is so loud that you couldn’t hear me.”
Crossing her arms across her chest, the defiance emanates in waves from my firstborn. “Well I don’t like you coming in here.”
“Well, I don’t like you locking the door. If you do it again, we’ll discuss consequences.”
“I don’t understand why I can’t lock the door,” she whines. “Ben just comes in here and rummages through my stuff.”
“I’ll deal with Ben.” Sighing, I cross to her and pull her into a hug. Her arms hesitantly slide around my waist. “I want to respect your space, Abs, but as a parent, I also need to watch what you’re doing. Online bullying is awful, which is why I haven’t let either of you have a computer in your room, and why I’ve limited some of the social media apps you’ve asked to download.”
“I’m like the only kid in my grade that doesn’t have those,” she whispers grumpily.
I smile as I rest my head on top of hers. “You aren’t missing much excitement, sweetheart. After your thirteenth birthday, I’m willing to discuss allowing one app as long as you give me the login information, and you allow me to check your account regularly to make sure everything is as it should be. There are adults who will make fake accounts, hoping to prey on teenagers. I want you to be safe.”
“I know,” she says quietly. “Can I pick which app?”
“Yes, but I’m allowed to veto the choice.”
“Veto?”
“It means overrule.”
“Oh. I’m sorry for yelling at you. I don’t hate you.”
I give her a squeeze as I kiss her temple. “I know you don’t. Teenage emotions are hard. Hormones are even worse.”
“Thanks, Dad,” she whispers as she steps away from me.
“Love you, munchkin.”
“Love you, too.”
After getting my kids out the door, I sit heavily on the couch, staring at the empty space above the television. At one point, I intended to fill the entire wall with family pictures. We’d had family pictures taken every year since Abbie was born, the last set being shortly before I deployed over five years ago. I thought about hanging them when I was home for Sara’s funeral, but couldn’t bring myself to do it. They’ve been sitting in an unopened box since then, and we haven’t had any pictures taken of the three of us either.
I hate that I’ve become this way. That I can’t — or subconsciously don’t want to — move on. In some ways, I’ve buried every piece of Sara so I don’t get reminders everywhere. But in others, I wallow in the memories.
Sighing, I reluctantly stand up. Running a hand through my hair, I can tell bits are standing in places, but I don’t care. I couldn’t give two fucks about these people finding me attractive. As long as I answer their calls in a timely manner, it doesn’t matter what I look like. It’s not as if I’m going to be hitting anyone up for a date. Only action I’ve gotten recently, other than my own damn hand, was with … her.
She who must not be named.
She who should not be named.
Bad enough I kissed her back, but even worse that I’ve thought about it since then. And now I’m thinking about that kiss, and her, again. Then she goes and offers to help Abbie, and I don’t want her to be a nice person. I want to hate her.
“Dammit,” I mutter. At least I can avoid her most of the time. She’s rarely in Eternity Springs, and the last I heard, Arianna says she went back to the boyfriend anyway. But that was a while ago. After that night.
Shaking my head in disgust, I trudge out to my truck. There’s a crispness to the air that tells me winter, and snow, aren’t too far away. Great, I think to myself. When all of my “they’re playing music too loudly” calls will turn into “I forgot how to drive in snow and need assistance” calls. I never thought I’d hate being a police officer, since I loved it so much in the Guard. But I do.
As I start my truck, I notice the time on the dash. The open house has already started. Eternity is pretty damn small, so I’ll get to the elementary school where it’s being held in about five minutes, but I know it looks really bad for me to be late .
A few minutes later, I’m jogging into the elementary school. Not much has changed at Eternity Springs Elementary since I went there a few decades ago. Sure, they’ve updated a good chunk of the interior, but the bones of the building are still the same faded red brick that I remember. I pass by my fourth-grade teacher’s room; Mrs. Stinson. I was part of her first group of fourth graders. She mellowed quite a bit since she’d had me, but some mannerisms stayed the same. She always made this heinous disapproving ‘hmm’ sound that reminded me of the way Marge Simpson’s sisters sounded on The Simpsons. Ben thought she was weird, and seemed relieved he wouldn’t have her as his teacher. I should probably do a better job of encouraging a different opinion of her. She retired last year, and a new teacher was hired to replace her. That new teacher quit almost immediately, and since then, the class has been split amongst the remaining classes.
As I round the corner leading toward the cafeteria, a woman exits the bathroom beside me, and I crash into her. She lets out a startled shriek as she begins to fall to the ground, but I grab a hold of her arm and pull her against me.
Two things happen simultaneously. First, I recognize the woman, and secondly, she throws up her other arm to block her face in a defensive stance.
“What the fuck?” I blurt out.
Natalie lowers her arm to stare at me. “Alex?”
“Why are you in my elementary school?”
“Yours?” she asks.
“Yes, mine.”
“Are you a student here?” I don’t miss the subtle teasing lilt to her voice, and that pisses me off even more.
“My son is, Natalie. Answer the fucking question,” I snap. “And it is still my school, because I went here as a kid, and I patrol this neighborhood.”
Natalie takes a hesitant step backward. “What was your question again?”
“Why are you here? ”
“Well, for a couple of things. I guess you haven’t talked to your sister lately,” she stammers.
“Not in a week or so, I guess.”
“Hmm. Well, I took a job here, and I’m still getting my room all set up the way I want it.”
“Your room?” I ask, confused.
Natalie cocks her head slightly as she studies me. I try not to focus on her eyes, still the most extraordinary color of green I’ve ever seen, and instead zero in on the bridge of her nose.
“Uh, did you not know that I’m a teacher?”
I stare at her in shock, unblinking as I let the words sink in. “You’re teaching? At my son’s school? Did you do this to get close to me?”
Natalie’s eyes open comically wide, before they narrow to slits. “Are you being serious right now? No, I did not do this for you. A position opened up and I interviewed for it. You were the last thing on my mind.”
It’s relatively rare that I let emotion cloud my judgment enough that I don’t filter my thoughts, and I immediately recognize I owe Natalie an apology. As I’m about to sheepishly tell her I’m sorry, she whirls around and stalks toward the cafeteria. I trail behind her, yelling out, “Wait! That meeting is for new residents only.”
Natalie turns around, fire in her eyes. “I’m well aware of that, Officer Santo. I am a new resident.”
“Thought you lived in Denver,” I comment.
“I did. Now I don’t.”
“You still with the douche?” I ask, internally wincing at my own slip up. Even I’m embarrassed at the question.
“No.” Turning again, she opens the door only enough for her to slip through, before it closes in front of me. I growl under my breath as I watch her walk toward the tables, only noticing after she sits down that my gaze never left her ass, and that I’m still standing in the hallway.
“Now we’re opening up the floor for any new questions for any of our panelists,” the mayor says, motioning wildly toward those of us unlucky enough to be tasked to be here. Representatives from each school, the parks and recreation department, the streets department, utilities, fire, and police are all here to welcome new residents. After doing a quick introduction, the mayor droned on for a half hour about his current campaign to become re-elected. I saw just about everyone yawn more than once, except for Natalie. Not that I was looking at her. And clearly I wouldn’t know that she never looked at me the entire time I’ve been sitting here, facing her.
When my phone buzzes in my pocket, I discreetly remove it to make sure it isn’t an issue with my kids. Seeing it’s the group text I have with my siblings, I turn off the screen and shove it into my jacket right as I hear my name being called. Popping my head up, I see a frazzled mother carrying an infant, and holding onto the shirt collar of a toddler.
“What are the speed limits on all secondary residential streets?” she asks.
“Uh, twenty-five in most cases, but around the schools, it is twenty.”
“We moved over onto Whistle Dance Road, and there’s a group of teenagers that race up and down the street all the time. I’ve got four kids, Officer. I don’t even feel comfortable letting them into the front yard when these teens are being so reckless. Can we slam a speed bump in there or something?”
I stifle the chuckle that threatens to break through my lips. “Uh, no, ma’am, we aren’t allowed to add speed bumps everywhere. I will make a note of that street, and I’ll see if we can start a rotation with the department to patrol more often. If they are in fact minors, it usually only takes a teenager getting one ticket for the parents to take away car keys.”
“But what if it doesn’t stop?” she asks, and I can hear the emotion in her voice.
Standing, I approach her. “Here’s my card. If in a week you haven’t seen any improvement, give me a call. We’ll figure it out. ”
The woman nods, her eyes glazing over with tears. “Thank you. It’s just — it’s that my husband is overseas with the military, and I moved us here alone two months ago. I’m trying to do it all, but I can only do so much.”
I wish I’d handled it better, but the moment she said her husband was overseas, I jolted. Jumping backwards, I stammered something about calling me, and then bolted out of the cafeteria.
Did Sara ever feel that way? Did she cry in a meeting because I was overseas? What if this woman dies? How will her kids be? How will her husband find out?
I barely make it to the bathroom before I’m retching into a trash can.
God, I’m so fucked up.
When I know I’m done, I quietly wash my hands, before cupping them to fill my mouth. Swishing, I’m unprepared when I hear Natalie’s sweet voice at the doorway. “Alex? Are you okay?”
I let my head drop against my chest. Am I okay? No. Never. But I won’t tell anyone that. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just sick.”
When she doesn’t answer, I assume she’s gone. I wait a few more minutes before making my way back to the cafeteria, only to find Natalie waiting for me.
“Everyone left,” she whispers, her gaze zeroed in on me. “And you’re not fine.”
“I said I’m sick,” I lie.
“No,” Natalie says softly. “You’re not sick. What happened back there? Was it her comment about her husband being deployed?”
How the fuck did Natalie recognize it that quickly? I’m about to deny, tell her again that I got sick, claim it was food poisoning, but instead, I say, “Yeah. Yeah it was.”
“Your wife,” I hear her murmur, more to herself than me, her gaze breaking from mine. I don’t respond. I can’t. I don’t know how to explain what I’m feeling.
“Why did you move here?” I ask, determined to change the subject. “And don’t lie to me. ”
“I wasn’t lying earlier. Arianna told me about the position. I interviewed. Gave notice at my job, and moved out that same weekend.”
“Why, Natalie? Why did you move?”
She sighs, pain etched in her features, before adjusting her shoulders and meeting my eyes. “Because he hit me for the last time.”
Fuck.