Chapter 15
15
HUDSON
Cranberry Falls
Population 18,348
The sign had felt smothering for years, but today I was able to take a little breath as I crossed the city limits. The weight of my memories still bordered on crushing, but today it felt manageable. Difficult, but manageable.
Still, as I walked in the door, I leaned into my mother’s comfortable embrace, appreciating the familiarity and warmth. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, Sunshine.” Mom craned her neck to look past me, lowering her voice to a whisper, but failing to hide her excitement. “Where is she?”
It was insane to think I’d looked forward to introducing Claire to my parents, but I had, and I hoped the disappointment that had settled low in my gut wasn’t obvious. “It’s not like that, Mom. I didn’t bring her.”
My mother made no attempt to hide her dissatisfaction with these words as she began to walk us back to the kitchen. “Coffee?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Sure, I’ll take one.”
She began making a fresh pot, her back to me while she worked, but she didn’t speak. Finally, as the coffee pot gurgled to life, she turned to face me, leaning back against the counter. “Tell me about her.”
“Mom,” I protested, the word coming out an exasperated sigh, but she raised her eyebrows knowingly.
“You sounded excited and now you don’t, so tell me about her.”
I hadn’t told my mother about the fake date, and I wasn’t sure I should now. It would only disappoint her. “There’s nothing to tell, Mom.”
She shot me a skeptical look, but didn’t press. “You should see Amy while you’re here,” Mom said.
It was an epic subject change. Or maybe it wasn’t. Mom had gone from thinking about my girlfriend to thinking about Lawrence’s. Of course, Amy hadn’t just been Lawrence’s girlfriend, she’d been Lawrence’s fiancée.
I was shaking my head before the whole sentence was out of her mouth. “She doesn’t want to see me, Mom.”
“She’s engaged, Hud.” The words took the air out of me as effectively as a punch to the stomach. Amy was engaged. It was just one more way I couldn’t protect my brother.
“He makes her happy, Hudson, but she still struggles, and your blessing would help.” Mom turned to fill two mugs, and, setting one down in front of me, she said, “Lawrence would want her to be happy.”
I never played the What Would Lawrence Want game, because what he would’ve wanted was simple. He would’ve wanted to live. And I’d already failed at giving him that. I let out a slow exhale, trying to focus my thoughts on the coffee mug my mother had set before me, but I couldn’t stop from reliving the worst night of my life like I had a thousand times before.
Chief gives the call to pull out of the fire, and I turn toward the only clear path, but Lawrence isn’t behind me anymore. I squint toward the rear of the building, where we suspect at least one child remains, and spot Lawrence’s silhouette. It’s hard to see through the smoke, but he’s less than ten feet from me and I turn to him, needing to catch him quickly enough to pull us both out. And then there is black.
I lift the coffee to my lips, the liquid burning my throat as I swallow, and I try to focus on the feeling, but it can’t block the pain I live with day in and day out.
In the months after Lawrence died, I floundered. My broken bones were healed up in a couple months, but even once I was cleared for work, I dragged my feet. My company needed a man they could trust with their lives, and I didn’t feel like that was me. I wasn’t sure I’d ever clear my head of the memories or the guilt.
Leaving Cranberry Falls was an easy decision, because as much as I loved my family, the memories here could drag me under so easily. How could I see Amy, Lawrence’s fiancée and high school sweetheart, and not feel like I was drowning in those memories once more? “I’ll think about it,” I mumbled noncommittally, staring down into the dark liquid.
Mom set the creamer down between us and sat. “Good,” she replied. “What else is new?”
“Hudson!” Dad’s voice was booming as he walked into the kitchen, and I was glad to turn away from Mom to offer him a greeting. I stood to hug him, hoping the distraction would offer a reprieve from Mom’s probing questions. Strong arms grabbed me up in a tight embrace that was every bit as comforting as Mom’s hug had been when I got to the house. I knew I was as strong as my old man nowadays—probably stronger—but Dad had a way of wrapping me up in a hug that made me feel like he was the strongest man in the world.
Emotion clogged my throat. If I went long enough without visiting, it was easier to forget how much I missed them. Together, like this, the desire to be closer to home was stronger than I remembered. “Glad to see you, Son.” He clapped me on the shoulder, grinning broadly.
“Happy to get a chance to stop by, Dad,” I replied honestly.
“You sticking around? I’m working on some cabinets for your mom’s sewing room. I’d love some help.”
When Claire had let me use her car this morning she’d said her sisters wanted her to go shopping, and she’d be busy all day. I hadn’t made plans, but I figured I’d stick around my parents’ place long enough to have dinner, at least. Sammie would join us, and though I’d spend the meal trying not to think about the chairs that remained permanently empty, it would be nice to be together. “I’ve got plenty of time and I’d love to help you,” I said, picking up my coffee. Mom’s interrogation would have to wait.
My father grinned, pulling out two travel mugs. One he filled, one he handed to me. I poured my steaming drink into the mug and put on its lid. “I’m going to use the bathroom and we’ll head on down,” Dad said, and I nodded.
“You’re sticking around for dinner?” Mom asked, the excitement clear in her voice. “Sammie will be by.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I replied, leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek.
The act of creating something with my hands was always soothing. As a boy, I spent countless hours in the basement workshop with Dad, while Sammie and Lawrence preferred other activities. My father was also incredibly easy to talk to, and so I knew from the moment I walked downstairs I would ask him for advice about Claire. Still, it was more than two hours before I got up the nerve to bring up the real reason I found myself near Cranberry Falls.
“Did Mom mention why I was here?” I asked in one of the natural lulls that came while we were sanding.
“She mentioned you were having dinner with us,” Dad replied mildly, not looking up.
“No—I mean, I am having dinner tonight, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I came up here to go to a wedding with a girl.”
Dad still didn’t look up, but I hadn’t expected him to. One of the reasons my father was so much easier to talk to than my mother was that he was perfectly willing to wait and let the story trickle out naturally, while my mother seemed to be constantly pressing for details. “If you came all this way for a wedding, I’m surprised you didn’t bring her here. Is it because you don’t want her to get the third degree from your mom?” Dad looked up only to shoot me a grin, and I smiled back.
“No, although that’s a perk,” I joked, but my chuckle ended on a sigh. Things with Claire were so messed up, and I couldn’t get advice if I didn’t share the whole story. It was embarrassing, though, and I focused hard on the door I was sanding as I began. “We’re not dating, exactly. I came up here mostly as a favor to Claire.”
Dad chuckled. “Well, definitely don’t tell your mother that. It’s hard to get you up here, even for the holidays. I doubt she’d appreciate finding out you’re here as a favor for a girl.”
My eyebrow twitched. It was uncomfortable to talk about what happened with Claire, but it didn’t stick in my throat the way talking about Lawrence did. Surely my parents understood coming back to Cranberry Falls was agonizing, no matter how much I loved them. “It’s more than a favor. I really like this woman—Claire. Her name is Claire.”
Dad was quiet, not pressing for more information, not even looking up from where he was sanding next to me, and I resumed sanding as I spoke, filling the silence as he knew I would.
“She lives in my building, and I noticed her looks first, obviously, but I’ve been spending time with her, and I really like her.”
More silence, more sanding, until finally Dad spoke. “Is the problem that she does or does not feel similarly?” he asked mildly, still not looking up from his work.
“She does—er, she did , but she doesn’t anymore.”
Dad glanced up, only for a second, just long enough to read my expression. In my life, I’d tried a thousand times to couch my emotions and keep my face unreadable, a skill both Lawrence and Sammie possessed, but I’d never mastered the art, and my father knew it. Whatever emotion Dad saw there, his face revealed nothing, instead remaining impassive as he handed me a different grade sandpaper. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
I didn’t, particularly, but I knew I couldn’t get advice if I wasn’t honest. “You know I used to make those videos online?” I asked, hoping I wouldn’t have to go into too much detail to jog my father’s memory.
Dad grunted. “The ones for women?” he asked.
I nodded. In fairness, I made the first video on a bored whim while in quarantine and the reaction had been huge. It’d been a fun distraction from the grim realities of being a paramedic during a pandemic. My days had been dismal in a way I’d never experienced before, and I needed to blow off steam.
“Those would be the ones,” I muttered. “She didn’t know about them and when her sister showed her, she jumped to conclusions.”
“And what would those conclusions be?” Dad asked, squinting down at his sanding.
“She thinks I’m using it like a dating app, I assume,” I replied. I had never actually asked Claire about her assumptions, but it wasn’t hard to guess.
“Are you?”
I frowned, setting down the sandpaper. “No. I mean, I did once. I met up with a woman from my DM’s, but she was batshit crazy, and with the pandemic the way it was—no.” The temptation had been there. It’d been months since I’d been with a woman, but after that first encounter, the benefits didn’t seem to outweigh the risks.
“Then what’s the problem?”
I wish I knew. I shrugged, picking up the sandpaper once more. “I don’t really know, I can just tell this was a dealbreaker for her. I think she lost respect for me.” The words slipped out of me quietly, the reality of the statement weighing heavy.
“The solution’s easy, if you ask me,” Dad said, and I perked up, one eyebrow raising in question. “Delete that shit and earn this woman’s respect.”
I grunted. Not like I hadn’t thought of that. “I don’t think it’s that easy, Dad. And besides, I considered deleting the account, but I don’t want to scare her off, either.” Lying awake last night, I’d run a hundred different scenarios through my head and had settled on two highly probable worst case scenarios. One, I deleted the account and Claire became spooked because she assumed I was getting way too serious way too fast, or two—the more likely scenario—I deleted the account and Claire assumed I had something to hide. She needed time to peruse the account on her own, if she wanted, and I was going to give her that.
Dad looked up, his expression uncharacteristically disdainful. “I don’t know, Hud. When I was young we didn’t have all this shit to get us in trouble. Thank God,” he muttered. “If your mom had known everything I was up to before she met me, she wouldn’t have given me the time of day.”
The phone buzzed and I looked down at it.
Claire: Did you actually steal my car and you’re never coming back? Because I would understand.
A smile tilted my lips, and I swiped open the conversation.
Hudson: As a matter of fact, I’ve not only stolen it, but I crossed over the Canadian border and I’m making a run for it.
She sent a laughing emoji.
Claire: That’s fair. I have also had that reaction to my mother at times.
“Hudson, no phones at the dinner table,” Mom scolded.
“I borrowed Claire’s car. Let me just fill her in so she doesn’t think I ran off with it,” I said, and although I didn’t look up, the responding tutting from my mother let me know she wasn’t happy, but she’d let me finish.
Hudson: Just sat down to eat with my family, but I’ll head back to your place in an hour or so. Is that okay?
Claire: Of course. Don’t rush on my account.
“Are you going to tell us about this girl?” Sammie asked, her eyebrows bouncing as she grinned.
“Not much to tell,” I replied. “We live in the same building. I got a chance to hang out with her when we got stuck in an elevator together, and she asked me to come with her to a family wedding this week.”
“But you like her,” Sammie said, as if we were ten again and she was considering breaking out in a verse of “Hudson and Claire, Sitting in a Tree.”
“She’s a lot of fun,” I agreed noncommittally.
“Why didn’t you bring her today, then?” Mom asked, and it didn’t surprise me in the least that Mom was eager to meet any woman I might be into. Mom’s greatest wish was to see her children married off, in hopes of one day getting grandkids.
She’d been close with Lawrence , I thought, and the thought pierced my heart, as it always did. “She was busy with wedding things,” I lied easily, knowing it was a lie that couldn’t be undone by what I’d told Dad.
“What’s she look like?” Sammie asked, her brown eyes bright.
“Can’t show you. No phones at the table,” I said with a shrug, using Mom’s long-standing rule to—hopefully—end the conversation.
“Do you have a picture of her?” Mom asked. “Let me see.”
I shot my mother a dry frown. “You’ve been on my back about having phones at the table since I was a kid, and now, when it suits you, the rules change?”
She nodded unselfconsciously. “Absolutely. Hand the picture over. I’m curious.”
Rolling my eyes, I pulled out the phone once more, swiping and tapping my way to the picture of Claire and me from our drive. “It’s not like I keep it hidden. I posted it.”
Sammie’s nose curled. “None of us want to follow your gross thirst trap videos, perv.”
“I’m not a perv,” I groused. “And you’ve talked about my posts before, so I know you’ve seen them.”
“Only when my friends mention something,” Sammie said.
I grinned wolfishly, just to annoy her. “Your friends follow me?”
“Ugh, see? You are a perv. Let me see the picture.” She held her hand out, but Mom tutted again, intercepting the phone so she could see Claire.
“Oh, she’s pretty, Hudson,” Mom said, looking for a long minute before handing the phone to Sammie. I knew Claire was beautiful, I didn’t need anyone to tell me that.
“She is,” Sammie agreed. “Try not to screw it up.”
I scooped myself up some salad, not bothering to tell either woman that I already had.