Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Casey
The week after the luau, Hawaii's sunshine blazed just as bright, almost painfully so, but I couldn't feel a single degree of warmth.
I'd become a spooked animal, living in a state of high-wire calm. Every morning, I'd peer through the crack in my door, scanning the hallway to make sure that familiar tall figure wasn't standing guard before I dared take Tommy out.
I'd completely changed my commute routes. No more taking the shortcut past the beach with the prettiest views—now I wove through cramped, congested alleys, even though it doubled my travel time.
"Casey, you've been looking like a sprinter on the starting blocks lately." Lina lifted Tommy into her beat-up pickup while shooting me a worried look.
I forced out a smile and adjusted Tommy's backpack straps. "Just haven't been sleeping well. Thanks for doing this, Lina."
To avoid running into Paul, I'd asked Lina to handle Tommy's drop-offs and pick-ups. I stood there watching the truck sputter away around the corner, then let out a long breath.
I'd thought about running. The idea grew like wild vines in the dark hours. I could sell my secondhand car, take all my savings, and buy a ticket to the mainland or another island. Seattle? Portland? Maybe Atlanta? Anywhere without Paul would do.
But then I'd look around my apartment—the faint yellow stain still visible on the ceiling from that old leak, this tiny place barely a few hundred square feet—and remember this was the home I'd built over six years, piece by piece, with my own two hands.
Six years ago, I'd fled here pregnant with less than a thousand bucks in my pocket. I'd spent countless nights on this island holding a crying Tommy, unable to sleep. Now I had a steady job, friends like Lina I could count on, and Tommy had a carefree childhood.
Everything I'd been through, everything I'd fought for, was here.
Why should I run again? Just because that man showed up out of nowhere?
"I'm done running," I told myself. "Paul, you already destroyed my past. You're not taking my present, too."
Friday afternoon, I finished work early and decided to pick Tommy up from preschool myself. I wanted to treat him to the coconut ice cream he'd been talking about for days, and maybe ease some of my own tension.
But when I reached the rainbow-painted gate of the preschool, my heart skipped a beat.
That luxury black sedan, so jarringly out of place on Hawaii's humble streets, its paint job so glossy it reflected the laughing faces of nearby kids, was parked there. Paul leaned against it.
He wasn't wearing the expensive suit from the banquet. He'd changed into a high-quality navy shirt, sleeves casually rolled to his forearms. In his hand was an elegant box tied with a pale blue ribbon fluttering in the breeze.
I instinctively turned to leave, but Tommy had already burst through the gate with his little dinosaur backpack.
"Mommy!" He ran toward me, then stopped short when he spotted the car and the man behind me.
Paul turned. His eyes locked onto mine.
Tommy tugged at my sleeve and whispered, "Mommy, that man's looking at you. He's really tall. Is that his big car?"
Cold sweat broke out on my palms. I gripped Tommy's hand tight and forced myself to stay calm. "He's just someone asking for directions. Come on, Tommy, let's go get ice cream."
I pulled Tommy along, trying to circle around the car and head for the bus stop without making eye contact.
"Casey."
His voice was low but penetrating, cutting through the chaotic after-school noise and drilling straight into my ears.
I picked up the pace, practically dragging Tommy into a jog.
"Mommy, slow down, my backpack's gonna fall off..." Tommy mumbled.
Then a pair of long-fingered hands appeared in front of me.
Paul blocked our path.
He stood close—close enough that I could smell that familiar cologne, the scent I used to be addicted to but now made my stomach turn.
"Don't go." His plea came out low, his eyes threaded with red. He hadn't been having an easy time either, apparently.
I stared at him coldly. "Mr. Vincent, I don't think we have anything left to discuss. Move. You're scaring my son."
Paul's gaze dropped to Tommy. In that instant, I saw his body shudder violently.
"Casey, I know you've been avoiding me, but I have to see you." He reached out to grab my arm, then pulled back at the last second. Instead, he shoved the dessert box into my arms.
"It's your favorite—mango crepe. I remember you said the taste could cheer you up."
I looked at the delicate box in my arms and laughed bitterly. Six years ago, trying to save money for prenatal vitamins, I'd stood outside a dessert shop staring at crepes in the window for a full ten minutes. I'd walked out with the cheapest piece of bread instead.
"Casey, give me one chance to explain." His voice dropped lower, carrying a kind of humility I'd never seen in him before. "These six years... I've been searching for you. I regret everything, Casey. Everything I said back then was wrong. The family pressure got to my head, I really—"
"Regret?" I cut him off, voice cold as ice.
The sea breeze whipped my hair across my face. I tucked it behind my ear and looked at him mockingly. "Paul, you think saying you regret it means we can just fast-forward through six years? You think one 'I'm sorry' erases everything?"
"I..." He faltered.
"Six years, Paul. You coming here now isn't an apology. It's you looking for absolution."
Paul's eyes began roaming over me anxiously. "Casey, these years have been hard for you, haven't they?" He seemed to think he was showing sympathy, but all I heard was condescending arrogance.
"Look at where you're living now, your conditions... It doesn't have to be this way. I can help you. I can give Tommy a better education. Hawaii has decent schools, but Boston has the best private resources. I have several vacant properties there, all in the top school districts. Or..."
He paused, his tone growing urgent. "If you want to stay in Hawaii, I can buy you an oceanfront house right now. You won't have to work. Tommy can have the best private doctors and tutors. I can give you everything you want."
As he spoke, his eyes gleamed, as if he believed he was offering the perfect compensation package. I stood there listening to him lay out this "bright future" built entirely on money.
That familiar feeling came rushing back. Six years ago, whether it was what he said to me outside the Four Seasons, or Diana tossing fifty thousand dollars on the café table—in their eyes, I'd always been just another commodity with a price tag.
"Paul." I cut him off coldly. He stopped mid-pitch and looked at me expectantly.
"You haven't changed. Not one bit." I stared into his eyes, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "In your world, money's the magic key that solves everything, right? You think these six years were hard for me just because I couldn't afford a big house or designer clothes?"
I looked down at the mango crepe in my arms, then shoved it back at him like I was tossing garbage. The sudden movement made the box wobble in his hands, the pale blue ribbon coming undone.
"You think I need your charity?" I stepped forward, forcing him to meet my gaze.
"Let me tell you something, Paul. Yes, it's been hard.
But I've never felt pathetic. I've raised my son with my own two hands.
I don't need your oceanfront mansion, and I sure as hell don't need you looking at me like I'm some poor soul to be pitied. "
He froze, his mouth opening to explain. "Casey, that's not what I meant. I just wanted to make up for—"
"Your 'making up' is an insult." I cut him off sharply. "And one more thing, the most important thing..."
I pointed at Tommy, who stood beside me, looking confused. My words came out sharp and deliberate. "Never show up in front of my son again. His life is simple right now. Happy. He doesn't need some stranger barging in and destroying his peace."
I turned without another glance, taking Tommy's hand and walking away.
"Casey!" He called my name from behind, but I didn't turn back.
I took Tommy to the ice cream shop. He was thrilled, licking his green coconut ice cream and looking up at me. "Mommy, was that man fighting with you? He looked really sad."
I touched his head, fighting back the burning in my eyes, and forced a smile. "No, sweetie. He was just lost and asking for directions. Eat up before it melts."
I played the perfect, strong mother. I built LEGOs with him, read him bedtime stories, until his breathing evened out and he drifted into sweet dreams. I turned off his nightlight and tiptoed out, closing the door softly behind me.
The second I turned around, every pretense shattered. I leaned against the cold living room door, my body sliding down like all the support had been yanked out from under me, until I was sitting on the floor.
In the darkness, the sound of wind rustling the curtains felt unbearably lonely. I buried my head in my knees. Tears poured out without warning.
It wasn't that I didn't want a better life. Who wouldn't want to skip waiting for the bus in the rain? Who wouldn't want their kid to grow up with the best of everything?
But now he'd come back with his guilt and his money, still playing the savior. In his mind, I'd always be the weak one who needed rescuing, who needed pity.
I lifted my head and wiped the tears from my face, staring out at the blurred lights in the distance.
Paul, you think money can buy back six missing years? You think a mansion can buy my forgiveness?
I swore to myself I would never accept his help. I'd prove to him that without his high-and-mighty charity, I could still make it on this island. I could still live with dignity, with pride.
I didn't need redemption. I'd already saved myself on that rainy night six years ago.