Chapter 5 #3
"But I know you, Manny. I know that Lacey is on your mind, and I know your dad is, but I also know there's something else."
I sigh. "For the last two and a half years, I've been hooking up with a dispatcher up in Miller's Landing. Her name is Heidi. It was…casual. Friends with benefits, more or less."
Riley chokes on his hot chocolate. "Fuck, what? You're fucking kidding me! The great and morally upright Cole Abernathy Mannix has a secret casual hookup in a different town?"
"Fuck you, jackass—the middle name is unnecessary. And it's not that big of a deal. We met at a fundraiser in Alpena, and I go up there to hook up with her a couple times a month."
"Okay, but why are you telling me now?"
"Because I mis-named her while coming."
Cole splutters again, this time choking for real, gagging and hacking. "Fucking fuck, man. Jesus. You said the wrong name while you were balls deep in your fuck-buddy?"
I wince. "Crass, but yes. She was going down on me and I called her Lacey by mistake. She sort of broke up with me."
"Your fuck-buddy dumped you." He shakes his head. "That takes talent, man."
"It wasn't like that. She wasn't mad, just surprised. I explained about Lacey and she told me it seemed obvious I still have feelings for her and it wouldn't be fair to myself, to Lacey, or to her if she and I were hooking up when Lacey and I…discussed things."
"Meaning, in case of the remote possibility that she throws herself at you after all these years."
"Something like that, I guess, yeah."
"And you feel guilty?"
"Obviously. She was stung a little at first, obviously, but she wasn’t mad once she got over the shock of it.
But yeah, I still feel shitty about it. I'm just messed up about Lacey, man.
I always have been. And then she shows up out of nowhere?
After all these years? With a black eye and all her shit in her car? Yeah, I'm fucked up."
"And? What else? I can see it on you, man. Tell me the thing you don't wanna tell me."
I shake my head. "It's dumb."
"If you're hung up about it, it ain't dumb. It's just you and me, brother.”
I clutch the hot mug in both hands, staring into the dancing yellow-orange flames. I've carried this guilt for twenty years. Maybe it's time to put it down.
"The night you hit Ellen Johnson," I start, and I don't miss the way he winces. "I know, I'm sorry."
He eyes me, sighing. "Ah fuck, man. If you're about to tell me you've been holding onto some Catholic ass bullshit guilt about that for the last twenty goddamned years, I'm gonna throw this fuckin' mug at your ugly fuck head."
"I let you leave," I whisper, eyes burning, throat thick and tight and hot. "I knew you were wasted. I should've…"
Riley stares at me, eyes wide. "Jesus, Cole. All these fucking years you've felt this way and you're just now saying something?"
"I didn't know how," I mutter. "And…when? To what end?"
Riley sets his mug aside and scrubs his face with both hands, sighing gustily through his fingers.
He shoots to his feet and stands at the fireplace, one hand on the mantle, the other braced on the river rock facade as he stares down into the fire.
"Cole, brother. It isn’t—your—fault. It's mine and mine alone.
" He pushes away, grabs me by the shirtfront, and yanks me to my feet.
Cups the back of my neck and squeezes hard, pressing our foreheads together.
"Fucking listen to me, you big, stubborn Dudley Do-Right jackass.
You don't get to take the credit for my monumental fuckup.
You got that shit on lock, man?" He shakes me.
"I, and I alone, got behind the wheel. I, and I alone, drove while fucking shitfaced.
I, and I alone, hit and killed Ellen Johnson.
I served my time. I paid my penance. I held onto the guilt until Cadence finally made me realize I don't need to anymore.
" He knocks his forehead against mine, his voice thick. "You tried, Holy Cole-y."
I snort and then sniffle wetly at the nickname I haven't heard in years. "Fuck off with that name, asshole."
"No. You wanna act like you could've stopped me? What were you supposed to do, fight me? Wrestle the keys away? Chase me down and pull a PIT move on me?"
"I should've done more. I…I knew how bad you were. I barely tried."
"The fuck you did. I remember clear as day, brother.
You begged, man. Begged. You tried to take my keys.
You…" he shakes his head. "I remember verbatim the last thing you said to me that night.
'Fuck off, then. Go and ruin your own life, asshole.
' You shoved me and got in the car with Ryan Tomlinson and Becca Shore. "
I let myself break. "Fuck. I…Riley, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I didn't fight harder. I should've knocked you out. I should've…I don't know. I don't know. I just…Yes, I feel guilty. I've felt guilty about it every single day."
Riley pulls my forehead to his shoulder.
"You know how much I fuckin' love your stupid ass, right, Cole?
" He squeezes me in his arms until the breath is crushed out of me.
"But you're a fuckin' dumbshit, sometimes.
You aren't responsible for literally everyone and everything, man. I made that choice. I drove drunk. I killed Ellen Johnson. Please, please, please—let…it…go. Forgive yourself. I have never once, not for a single second, held you even slightly responsible. The exact opposite is true, Cole. When I was sitting in that six-by-eight cell, you know what I thought, every single fucking day, a hundred and fifty thousand times a fucking day for four goddamn years? ‘I wish I had listened to Cole.’”
I heave a shaky sigh, clinging to him. "Fuck, it feels good to get that out."
Riley laughs, pushing me away. "I cannot believe you've held that fat fucking turd inside all this time, dude. You're such a dumbass."
"I just poured my heart out to you, and you know how hard that is for me. And here you’re insulting me?"
"It's ridiculous, Cole! You think if you asked anyone who was there that night that a single one of them would say you didn't do everything you could to stop me?" I don't answer and he thumps my chest. "I'm legit asking, Cole. Do you think anyone would say you didn't do all you could?"
"Probably not."
"Definitely not. You hold yourself to an impossible standard, man. You always have. You don't ever totally loosen up. You…you're not perfect, buddy. You can't be."
"You don't understand the legacy Craig Mannix left behind in this town, Riley. The shoes I have to fill."
"You're not him. You're you. And yeah, your father was a hell of a man.
The kindness he showed me when I confessed what I'd done?
Fuckin' haunts me, man. I expected him to be angry.
To judge me. Perp walk me through town, like here's the punk who murdered Ellen.
He didn't do any of that. He advocated for a lighter sentence.
He let me self-report to the jail instead of having to take that ride in the back of the cruiser.
He showed me so much fucking compassion, Cole.
" His eyes go red. "Never told anyone this.
But he, uh. He visited me the week I got out, and he told me that he'd put in a good word with the parole board for me.
He told me that this was my chance to try again.
To do better. Go out there and be a different person, he said.
You can either feel sorry for yourself, or you can work hard and be better.
" He hangs his head. "The compassion he showed me was a big motivating force behind creating the work-release program.
To try to be for someone else what he was for me.
What Fee was. What you were. You guys accepted me back with open arms like nothing had ever happened.
And your father, he didn't treat me any different, either.
Greeted me on the street with a handshake and a smile when half the town would cross to the other side of the street.
" He pats my cheek a little too roughly.
"You fill the shoes, Cole. You are your father's legacy.
So go easy on my best buddy, wouldja?" He pats my face again.
"And for fuck's sake, talk to Lacey so you can stop moping about it, finally. "
I shove him away. "I'm not moping, you fuck-stick."
We kick back and talk more after that, about the glory days on the football team, about the latest town gossip, about his engagement to Cadence.
And I feel a thousand times lighter—about that, at least.
But when I lay my head on my pillow later that night, I dream of the night Riley drove away, and I see Lacey looking at me from the other side of the bonfire, disapproval in her eyes—which never happened in reality. She took off with Amy and Callie and met up with me later.
But in the dream, she's herself as she is now, not teenage Lacey, and she's angry at me. Disapproving of me. Disappointed in me.
The dream shifts until it's just her in the darkness, looking at me with sadness in every line of her face.
I wake up sweating at three and I'm unable to get back to sleep, seeing her face every time I close my eyes.
Eventually, I just get up and make coffee, knowing I'll never get back to sleep.
And that's when my phone buzzes.
Unknown number: This is Lacey. Something tells me you're up. We should talk.