Winter Wishes (Sharing Space #5) Read online

  Crystal was coming out of the bathroom as I walked down the hall. “I told her to let you sleep.”

  “Yeah, well, you should probably start beating that child ‘cause she don’t listen.”

  Crystal laughed and playfully swatted me on the arm, and I walked by her and into the bathroom. Thirty minutes later I was showered, dressed in leggings and an over-sized sweater, and sipping from a mug of tea. Brianna had yet to open a single present and she was about to jump out of her skin. There was a soft knock at the door and she nearly broke her neck in running to answer it.

  Uncle Troy entered wearing a Santa hat, but instead of white fur around the brim, it was leopard print.

  “Daddy, where did you get that hat?” Crystal asked, one hand on her hip.

  “I call it my Pimp Santa hat. You like it?”

  I busted out laughing. Crystal rolled her eyes and said, “I can’t even with you.”

  Brianna bounced up and down. “Can we please open presents now?”

  “Let’s do this. The poor child has suffered enough,” I said, reaching under the tree and handing Brianna her first present to open.

  Crystal had picture-taking duty while I tried to make sure we didn’t get lost in a sea of wrapping paper by quickly snatching up the discarded shreds and depositing them in a trash bag. Brianna graciously allowed us to open one present of our own for every three or four she opened. She saved my big present for last and squealed with delight when she peeled back the paper to reveal an iPad Mini.

  Crystal gave me a disapproving look. “Chloe! That’s too much.”

  “Oh, hush. I don’t have any other kids to spoil.”

  “Thank you so much, Chloe!”

  The joy on her face was all the thanks I needed. Brianna wolfed down her breakfast and ran back to the living room to play with her new gifts while Uncle Troy, Crystal, and I ate in the kitchen.

  “Crystal told me about Patrick’s sister.” Uncle Troy said. “Tell him his family is in my prayers.”

  I nodded. “I will when I see him.”

  “I imagine he’s spending Christmas with his people?” Crystal asked.

  “Yeah. His mother has had a really rough time of it. Charlotte was the baby.”

  “Even meeting her just that one time it was clear a demon had ahold of that child. At least now she’s found some peace.”

  I couldn’t agree with Uncle Troy, so I said nothing. I didn’t believe Charlotte wanted to die and I doubt she’d have chosen this end for herself. There was no use in debating what happened to us when we died, but I was sure Patrick and his family was a long way off from finding any peace. I still missed my father; thinking of him at peace didn’t make it any easier when I thought him not being there to walk me down the aisle or meet my children.

  There was another knock as the door and Uncle Troy and I exchanged a look. Crystal stood to answer it, but fired off a warning before she left the room. “Don’t either of you start.”

  Neither of us said a word as we made our way to the living and watched as Jermaine entered carrying a shopping bag filled with presents. He gave Brianna an awkward hug and said, “Wow. It’s only been a week since I saw you, but I swear you’ve gotten bigger and more beautiful.”

  I almost passed out from the effort it took to not roll my eyes. I’d promised Crystal I wouldn’t show my ass and I meant to keep my word.

  “Jermaine.” Uncle Troy’s greeting was short but he shook Jermaine’s hand, giving him more respect than I thought he deserved.

  “Hello, sir. Merry Christmas. Hi, Chloe. How are you?”

  “Good.” I could feel Crystal’s stare, but I refused to acknowledge her. I was being civil. Let’s not push it.

  I studied him while he sat with Brianna and she opened her gifts. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t recognized him that day a few months ago. He looked very much the same, still thin with a wide nose and almond-shaped eyes. This was his third or fourth visit with Brianna. She seemed to be adjusting well to the news that her father wanted to be a part of her life. Crystal said the first two times he’d come over Brianna had given him the third degree something awful. That’s my girl.

  Now it was Uncle Troy’s turn. While Brianna was in her room getting dressed, he took the opportunity to ask Jermaine about his whereabouts, reasons, employment, and intentions.

  “Daddy! Have you been taking pointers from Auntie Adrian?” Crystal asked.

  He looked at her like she had asked the stupidest question he’d ever heard. “Maybe I have. But what did you expect? He leaves you with a baby in your belly and not so much as a phone call, never mind child support. You think I’m gonna sit back and have a beer with him? I don’t care if it is Christmas. Does he know how many Christmases he’s missed?” Uncle Troy shifted in his chair to face Jermaine. “Do you? How many birthdays? School plays? How about sick days? Bad dreams?”

  “Daddy, that’s enough.”

  “No. It’s okay, Crystal.” Jermaine sat forward on the sofa, putting a hand on Crystal’s leg to quiet her. I was unable to control my eye roll that time and he caught it. “I know you have no reason to trust me. Either of you. And I deserve that. But I was a boy then and I acted like a scared one. I’m a man now and I love Brianna. I just want a chance to show it.”

  “Well, it’s not up to me whether you get that chance. If it were, your black ass wouldn’t be sitting here, I can tell you that much. But you best believe, you mess this up, hurt either of them in any way, and nobody will be able to find you. Ever.”

  And that’s my uncle.

  ***

  “I miss you.”

  “I miss you, too.” That I could say. There was no doubt about it. We’d been playing phone tag for three days. I missed Patrick’s face and the apartment felt cold and empty without him. “How are you? How’s everyone?” I asked, stopping short of asking when he was coming home.

  “I’m dealing, but my mother… isn’t. Chloe, I’m sorry things are so crazy. I just think it’s best if I stay here for a few more days. At least until I have to be back at the studio.”

  “It’s okay. Do what you have to. It’s just…”

  “What is it?”

  “God. I feel so stupid bringing it up, but the New Year’s party? For the launch?”

  “Oh, damn. Chloe, I forgot—”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a stupid a party.”

  “It’s not just a stupid party. They’re your biggest clients and they wouldn’t be celebrating this success if it weren’t for you. I’ll be home New Year’s Eve and we’ll go together.”

  “Patrick, are you sure?” Damn. I felt real needy.

  “Absolutely. What time should I be home?”

  I closed my eyes and let those words wash over me. “I have to be at the venue by nine, so, eight?”

  “You got it. See you then?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Chapter Seven

  Confession

  Patrick

  Grief is a son-of-a-bitch.

  Even if you have one moment of peace or happiness, like hearing your girlfriend’s voice after three days, grief still sits on your chest, reminding you of its presence. Slow your roll, Patrick. Life will never be the same.

  And when you’re not grieving, you’re feeling guilty. What right do I have to be excited to see Chloe in just three more days? My sister will never attend another party. Never see another new year. Never make another winter wish or wear a pretty dress.

  I wanted to go home but even having that desire made me feel like an awful person. I couldn’t help it. My parents’ home had always been a place filled with lots of voices, laughter, and movement. Now everyone spoke in whispers. My father spent a lot of time in the garage working on projects that, as far as I could tell, were no closer to completion. Because I wasn’t due back on set until after New Year’s Day, it was just taken for granted that I’d do the majority of the babysitting.

  And make no mistake: babysitting is what it was. My mother rarely l
eft her room and my father and I took turns bringing her meals and reminding her to take care of herself. The room I’d shared with Liam as a kid was now my mother’s office, but she kept a fairly comfortable sofa in there and it’s where I slept at night. Some nights, after my father was asleep and she thought I was too, she’d venture out into the living room and look through photo albums. I knew this because one night I got curious and watched her from the doorway. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sound of my mother crying and saying, “My baby, my baby,” over and over again.

  It was a much-needed relief when Cate took off an afternoon so that I could meet with Paul and Max at McDoo’s. Max was on vacation because school was still out for the holiday and Paul had taken a vacation day from the paper to hang with us. The evening went too quickly and I lost track of the number of shots I’d had. The next thing I knew Max was insisting on paying the tab.

  “I’m not ready to go back. What can we get into?” My speech sounded slurred, even to my own ears.

  “Well, as you know, Roman Glen isn’t necessarily known for its scandalous nightlife, but I got an idea.”

  Max’s idea found the three of us splitting a case of beer on the bleachers of the high school football field.

  “You’re so getting fired.” Paul said, tapping the neck of his beer against mine. “To Max’s unemployment.”

  Max took a swig from his bottle. “Please. They love me. As long as I keep filling up that trophy case I could snort blow off a hooker’s ass right on the fifty-yard-line during halftime and they’d look the other way.”

  We were all silent. Finally, Max spoke. “Damn it, Patrick. I’m sorry. As usual, I wasn’t thinking.”

  I shook my head and took a long drink. “Ah. Don’t worry about it. Charlotte did meth, not coke.” Paul and Max exchanged glances. “Oh, come on! I think I’m allowed to make a few dead junkie jokes, right? It’s like mama jokes. You can make them about your mother, but no one else can.”

  “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.” Paul said.

  “Why?” I asked. “Because I’m drunk? So Max is the only one who can get drunk and make an ass of himself?”

  “Hey,” Max said, looking offended. “Paul and I made up. Life’s too short for bullshit. I wanted to call you, too, but—”

  “But my sister died. There she goes. Still bringing people together.” I took another drink, finishing off the bottle. I reached for another.

  “Patrick,” Paul said carefully. “We thought you could use some time out of the house, but you know getting drunk isn’t going to make you feel better, right?”

  “I know. But fuck it.” I shrugged and leaned back a little too far. I almost fell into the gap between the row of seats I was sitting on with Paul and the row above us where Max was sitting, but caught myself in time. “Max, remember you asked me how it felt to be the one everyone always turns to? Well, it fucking blows.”

  “Man, I was being stupid.”

  “Maybe. But still a good question. Patrick, look out for your sister. So I tried. And when I tried to tell them that she was in trouble, into something bigger than I could handle on my own, it’s too late. She gets herself blown up.”

  Paul cringed, but I kept going. “And now, because I don’t have a wife and kids or a failing marriage that everyone knows is failing but no one wants to talk about it, it’s automatically assumed that I should be the one to stay in that house and deal with the ghosts and the grief. I can’t possibly be dealing with my own grief or my own shit. Like, telling my girlfriend I love her and have her look at me like, That’s cute.”

  “Wait. You’re in love?” Max looked amazed, like I’d just announced plans for space travel.

  “Way to focus on the wrong thing, Max.” Paul shook his head and turned to me. “What do you mean? She didn’t say it back?”

  “Nope.”

  “Well, what did she say?”

  “Nothing. And then my father interrupted us so—”

  “Hold up,” Max said, holding up one hand. “Where did this happen?”

  “At my parent’s, the day of the funeral.” I said.

  “Aw, man. Even I could tell you that wasn’t going to go well and I don’t know shit about women.” Max shook his head and took a drink.

  “I hate to say it, but he’s right, Patrick. You just buried your sister. It wasn’t exactly the ideal occasion a woman wants to hear those words for the first time. She’s not going to think you meant it.”

  “Did you mean it?” Max asked.

  “Yes. I think so. I felt it. I said it. Like when you’re hungry and you announce you want something to it.”

  “Shit, man. Do yourself a favor and don’t ever explain it that way to her. Ever.”

  Paul nodded in agreement. I was getting pissed at the both of them and a part of me knew it was irrational, but I’d had too much to drink to care.

  “You guys can go to hell.”

  I stood up to leave and everything went black.

  ***

  “Where am I?”

  I tried to sit up but the pounding in my temples told me that wasn’t a good idea. Paul appeared over me and, even though the lights were low, it still felt easier to look at him with one eye open.

  “My couch,” he said and handed me a glass of water and two white pills. “Take these and drink it all.”

  I did as I was told and gave him the empty glass. I lay back on the sofa cushions and closed my eyes. “What time is it?”

  “Late. I called your parents. Cate’s going to stay over. You can crash here for the night.”

  “I can’t believe I passed out.” Even after the water my mouth felt dry and my tongue felt like one giant slab of cotton.

  “If I tell you something, do you think you’ll remember it tomorrow?”

  I opened my eyes. Paul was seated in the recliner across from me. His expression was pained.

  “I’m not going to like it, am I?”

  “Oh, you don’t have to like it. You just have to hear it. I know your family is hurting, but this can’t be one of those times where you worry about taking care of them and neglect yourself. Now, I gave you a break tonight because it’s so… soon, but… You have a lot of good things in your life now, Patrick.”

  “Paul, I know. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m not going to have a drinking problem if that’s what you’re getting at. I just needed to not be in that house anymore. And I’m trying to forget.”

  “You’re never going to forget Charlotte or what happened to her.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I … I don’t know exactly what I meant. I just want to feel differently. I want to feel like I’m supposed to feel when someone loses a sister. Because Paul, as awful as this is going to sound, as sad as I am for her and everyone else, I mainly feel relief.” I ran a hand over my face and tried to look anywhere but at Paul.

  “What do you mean by relief?”

  “For the past few months I knew this shit with Charlotte was going to lead to something big. The family was going to find out and we’d have to confront it and get her through it together. Or we’d fail and she’d end up in jail or dead. And when I saw her in that hospital bed I knew she was going to die. Just the thought of it… Paul, I thought, Okay. It will be over. We won’t have to watch her get any worse because watching her there I knew she’d never get any better. Even if she lived. So now we can mourn her. Which is what we were doing anyway. It was just taking longer.”

  “You’re relieved her suffering is over.”

  “What I’m saying is I’m relieved all of our suffering is over.”

  Chapter Eight

  A Lot Like Love

  Chloe

  I never liked going out on New Year’s Eve. My mother used to say people in New York City who went out that night were jockeying to be the first homicide of the year. I guess that stuck with me because a night of old movies, wine, and popcorn always seemed like the perfect way to ring in the New Year, which is why I needed to call Myra for
assistance.

  I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom and used my iPhone to snap a picture of my feet. Each foot rocked a different stiletto: on the left foot I wore a sparkly silver shoe and on the right a black peep-toe. I sent the picture to Myra’s phone via text then put the phone back to my ear.

  After a moment she said, “Oh, the silver ones. Definitely.”

  “You don’t think it’s too much silver?” I asked, doing a half turn so I could view my full body and the silver shoe. The dress I wore was super short, strapless, silver, and covered with faux diamonds that were almost blinding.