The Way We Rise

  He reaches out slowly and gently takes me into his arms. “It’s okay.”

  His shirt smells like yesterday.

  I reach up and close my fist tightly around the fabric, bringing it to my nose. I inhale the scent slowly and deeply, aching to be transported back to last night. To the moment when I could have chosen to stay in my damn hotel room.

  Then a pitiful, involuntary whimper leaks out of my mouth. Houston tightens his grip on me as he feels my body becoming heavy. In one swift motion, he swoops me up in his arms and carries me to the bed. Then he sits on the edge and waits for me to speak.

  I pull the sheet up, use it to wipe my eyes, hoping to conceal my grief and my shame, but Houston won’t allow it. He pries the sheet out of my hands and pulls it down, away from my face, so he can see me.

  “Look at me, Rory.”

  I angle my face upward to look at him and the change in position sends two fat tears sliding down my cheeks.

  He reaches for me, wiping one of them away. “I realized something when I woke up this morning and found you lying next to me for the first time in five and a half years.”

  I want to ask him what he realized, but I can’t bring myself to speak.

  He tucks my damp hair behind my ear. “The world looks and feels different when I’m with you. Better and easier.” His gaze wanders over my face and hair for a moment before he continues. “That’s how I know we’re going to get through this, because we’re better together.”

  I look away from him, almost feeling disgusted. Is he trying to tell me we’re better off now that Liam is gone?

  “Rory, talk to me.”

  I rub my left cheek on the pillow to wipe away some of the moisture. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Tell me how you’re feeling.”

  I shrug. “I feel like a different person than I was when I arrived in this hotel room last night.”

  He lets out a frustrated sigh. This is not what he wanted to hear.

  “Are you saying you’re having second thoughts… about us?” His voice cracks a little on the word us, and this sends me into a bit of a panic.

  “No.” I force the word out through the sobbing. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry for what? Baby, come here.” He slides his arm underneath my back and pulls me into him firmly. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

  “I’m sorry for making you think I was having second thoughts.” I’m filled with a desperate need to make sure he knows I still need him. “I’m not having second thoughts, Houston. I swear.”

  “Okay, okay. Shh. It’s okay,” he whispers as he kisses the top of my head and strokes my hair.

  We sit like this for a while, him comforting me while I try to figure out what’s going to happen when we go back to Portland. How am I supposed to live with Houston while I’m mourning another man? Finally, the tears stop and Houston heads into the bathroom to take a shower, after asking me ten times if I’m going to be okay alone.

  While he’s cleaning up, I set up Skippy and Sparky’s food bowls with the morning portion of dog food, but when I open up Skippy’s insulin kit to get his shot ready, I realize there are no more vials in the kit. I forgot to bring the box of insulin vials from the house when we went to pick up Sparky. I guess it’s not a big deal. We have to take Sparky back there today to hand him off to Liam’s parents, whose flight should be arriving soon. I’m not looking forward to facing them.

  I’ve never met his parents. They live in Salem and we didn’t bother visiting them on the road trip from Portland to California because they were supposed to visit us within a few months. The first time I’ll meet them is to offer them condolences.

  I’m sure they’ll want to know what happened. The police will only give so much information in an ongoing investigation. I wish I hadn’t told that detective about Liam stealing my book file and my emails. Now that he’s dead, I don’t have to press charges, but my statement is part of the investigation into his death. It’s bad enough that I was at a hotel with another man. Now Liam’s parents will know he was there because I accused him of stealing from me.

  When Houston walks out of the bedroom, I’m tempted to bury my face in his chest just to get a whiff of the past, to lose myself in the memory of the happiness I felt before Liam arrived at the hotel last night.

  “We need to go to the house,” I say, reaching for the dog leashes on the coffee table in the sitting area. “I left Skippy’s insulin.”

  He nods and reaches for the hotel phone on the breakfast bar. “I’ll just call the concierge to make sure they have the rental car I requested.”

  The car rental is ready and waiting for us when we head down to the lobby, a shiny black Infiniti that smells like leather conditioner. Sparky and Skippy hop into the backseat and each take their place on either end of the bench seat, waiting for Houston to roll down the windows.

  The morning sky is dark and swollen with an impending rainstorm, the air crackling with friction. As Houston drives toward Mountain View, I find myself wishing the sun would come out. I imagine dazzling rays of sunlight beaming down and setting the streets ablaze until everything is on fire, my heart reduced to ashes, swept up into the wind, becoming part of the atmosphere we all breathe, and everywhere, everyone will understand, I never wanted Liam to get hurt.

  Houston pulls up to the curb in front of the house. I don’t bother asking why he doesn’t want to park in the driveway. I figure he’s leaving the space open for when Liam’s parents arrive. The dogs begin whining and wagging their tails when they see their home, probably thinking they’re going to see Liam. I don’t bother leashing them before I let them out of the car. Sparky races across the lawn and up the steps toward the front door. Skippy makes a quick pit stop to relieve himself on a fern in the garden before he follows his best bud.

  My heart races as I unlock the front door and let everyone inside. The house still smells a little like fresh paint and carpet, but there’s also a faint hint of Liam’s cologne laced through everything. When he was alive, I never found myself purposely inhaling the scent just to feel close to him. But now, it smells perfect. Crisp and woodsy, like freshly chopped pine.

  “Are you okay?” Houston asks, and I realize I don’t know how long I’ve been standing in the middle of the living room, inhaling the wood-scented air.

  I nod vigorously. “I’m okay.”

  I quickly set about administering Skippy’s insulin, then I head outside to leave the box of insulin vials in the car, so I don’t forget them. When I enter the house again, Houston is standing on the threshold of the back door leading to the yard. I come up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist, resting my cheek on his shoulder blade.

  He grabs one of my hands and pulls it up to kiss my fingers. “I’m sorry I haven’t offered much sympathy. I’m just afraid of saying the wrong thing.” He turns around and takes my face in his hands. “But you know I love you and I’m here for you no matter what, right?”

  I nod and wrap my arms around him again, then I bury my face in his chest. He squeezes me tightly and we stand in silence for a while, until the silence is broken by my growling stomach.

  He chuckles. “I’ll go get us something to eat.”

  “Okay, I don’t have much to pack. I’ll do that while you’re gone.”

  I let go of him reluctantly and he kisses my forehead before heading out. I watch Skippy and Sparky frolicking a moment longer, then I head to the bedroom to pack my things. The woodsy scent is more intense in here, especially the nearer I get to the bed.

  My stomach burns with nausea as I breathe through my mouth while stuffing my suitcase with my clothing. Every time I see Liam’s favorite jeans or his favorite T-shirt, I just want to fall to my knees and give up. And I do give up, halfway through. I don’t need all these clothes anyway. I yank the zipper shut on the suitcase and push it off the bed until it falls to the floor with a deep thud.

  The creak of the front door opening startles me. Hurriedly, I dr
ag the suitcase out of the bedroom. I don’t want Houston to come looking for me in the bedroom where Liam and I used to have sex. But when I come out of the hallway into the living room, my heart clenches in my chest at the sight of Liam’s parents and sister.

  His mother is a small woman, shorter than I am, and so thin she almost looks sick. His sister looks like a female version of Liam, minus the facial hair. His father, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to share Liam’s taste in facial hair. His square jaw is clean shaven, his dark hair cut and styled neatly. He’s about six-one, Liam’s height, and quite burly. His blue Oxford is pressed perfectly and I suddenly realize where Liam inherited his need for control.

  “Rory?” his mother murmurs this soft plea to which I nod. “What happened?” she bellows, clutching her chest. “What did they do to him? Tell me how it happened.”

  The tears come instantly and I open my mouth to speak, but Liam’s father cuts me off.

  “Why are you crying? My son died because of you and you’re crying?”

  My jaw drops. “What? I don’t—”

  He turns to Liam’s sister. “Leah, give me your phone.”

  I don’t know if Leah looks more embarrassed or frightened by his request.

  Liam’s father turns back to me. “She has the texts from Liam on her phone.”

  “I don’t know what you think happened,” I begin, “but—”

  “Don’t play dumb with me, girl. I talked to the cops and they said you were there with another guy. Liam caught you at a hotel with someone else and now he’s dead.”

  “That’s not how it happened,” I insist, my heart pounding with fear. “I was there with someone else because Liam and I broke up. He erased my computer files and attacked me!”

  “You’re telling me my son died over some fucking computer files? Bull-fucking-shit!” his father shouts, and my entire body begins to shake uncontrollably.

  “I’m not lying,” I whisper. “I would never cheat on Liam. I would never hurt him. Please, you have to believe I never wanted to hurt Liam.”

  His father looks disgusted with me. The look on his face reminds me of the look that flashed across Liam’s face last night, when he saw me approaching him in the hotel lobby with Houston at my side.

  “You never meant to hurt him when you cheated on him?”

  “I didn’t cheat on him!” I shout so loud my throat burns, as if screaming it will make this man believe me. I’m just a stupid whore to him.

  I turn to his sister, but she refuses to look at me. Either she doesn’t believe my story or she’s too afraid to say anything.

  “You have to believe me,” I plead. “I had no money for a hotel room or a ticket home after Liam hurt me. I had to call someone to come and get me.”

  “After Liam hurt you?” his father jeers. “He’s dead! He can’t defend himself and you expect me to just take your word for it?” He steps forward and I can hardly breathe as he gets in my face, the vein in his forehead throbbing with fury. “He should have hurt you. Convincing him to move to California so you could go behind his back the first chance you got.”

  “Step away from her! Now!”

  We all turn toward the front door and I’ve never been so relieved to see my father in my life.

  “Dad?”

  My father’s face is contorted with rage, his gaze locked on Liam’s father. “You touch her and it’ll be the last thing you do.”

  Liam’s mother shakes her head. “It just doesn’t make any sense. Liam never got in any trouble with the police. He never hurt anyone.”

  His sister sighs as she wipes tears from her puffy eyes. “Yes, he did, Mom. He just never got caught. He’s the one who torched Savannah’s car. He told me all about it.”

  “What?” his mom says with genuine confusion.

  “Don’t you talk about your brother like that,” his father warns her.

  She shakes her head. “It’s true,” she whispers as she finally looks at me. “I believe you.”

  I can’t speak or move, until my father’s hand lands on my arm. I look up at him and the pain in his eyes at seeing me like this hits me hard.

  “Yeah, get her out of here before we call the cops,” Liam’s father says, delivering another kick to my already-broken spirit.

  A fiery aura of anger pulses around my father, but he grits his teeth and keeps his eyes locked on me, careful not to take the bait.

  He kisses my forehead then reaches for my suitcase. “Come on, sweetheart. You don’t have to stay and listen to this.”

  “I have to get Skippy. He’s in the backyard.”

  He nods then carries my suitcase as he follows me through the back door. The rain has started coming down in a light sprinkle, creating a crystal web across the back lawn. I kneel down on the damp grass to hug Sparky good-bye.

  “I probably won’t see you again,” I sob into his tan fur as I squeeze him tightly. “I’m sorry, buddy. I’m so sorry.”

  Liam’s father watches from the back door as we leave through the side gate. I try to ignore Sparky’s cries as I leave without him, but each high-pitched whine pierces straight through my heart. My dad throws my suitcase in the trunk of his gray rental car and Skippy jumps into the backseat, tail wagging and tongue lolling, completely oblivious to the fact that the world is a darker place today.

  I plunk myself down in the passenger seat, but I don’t close the car door. “Houston will be here soon. He went to get us something to eat.”

  “Just call him and tell him to meet you somewhere else.” His eyes plead with me, but for what I don’t know. “I’m not letting you stay here. I don’t want you anywhere near those people.”

  I sigh as my mind immediately begins to conjure reasons for why my dad is here. Is it because of the investigation into Liam’s death? Or is he really here just to be a father?

  He sighs as he waits for me to shut the door. “Rory, I just can’t stand the thought of you thinking any of this is your fault.” He reaches across the space between us and brushes a tear away from my cheek. “Let me do this. Let me help you.”

  I don’t know what’s going to happen when I call Houston and tell him I’m with my father. All I know is that right now, I desperately want to let someone else carry the burden of my sorrows. And if that person is my father, someone who won’t judge me for mourning a man who attacked me and spied on me in our last days together, then maybe he’s exactly what I need right now.

  I take a deep breath and close the car door. “Okay.”

  January 17, 2015

  As I turn the corner onto Harbor Court, my phone vibrates in the cup holder. I snatch it up and answer right away when I see Rory’s name.

  “Hey, baby. I’m almost there.”

  “Don’t go to the house. I’m not there anymore,” she says, her words rushed. “Liam’s parents are there and his dad is… very upset. Please don’t go there.”

  My heart races at the thought of running into Liam’s parents. Do they think I had something to do with his death? Then I think of how anxious Rory sounds and I’m suddenly angry with them for upsetting her. She was fine when I left a few minutes ago.

  “But what about your stuff? And—wait a minute,” I say as I pass the house and try to get a glimpse through the window, but the curtains are drawn tightly shut. “If you’re not there, where are you?”

  She pauses for a moment. “I’m at Cuesta Park, on Grant and Cuesta.”

  I pull the car over next to the curb to enter the cross-streets into the rental car’s GPS. “How did you get there? It’s almost two miles from the house.”

  She lets out a soft sigh. “My dad. He showed up when Liam’s dad was yelling at me, basically calling me a cheating whore. He didn’t want me to stay there. I didn’t want to stay there.”

  She continues talking, but I can’t hear what she’s saying. All I can hear is Hallie’s last words to me. Don’t forget. And don’t be late. Rory gets here at two so you need to come before that.

  I should have
known something was wrong. Hallie had never called me during class and, even with all the distractions of the lecture hall around me, I could hear in her voice that she wasn’t okay. I should have left class and gone straight to her dorm right after she called, then none of this would have happened.

  “Houston?” Rory’s voice is small and hesitant, the way she sounded when she called me yesterday to tell me she needed me.

  “Yeah, I should probably let you two talk,” I reply, my voice a bit taut. “I’m sure you both have a lot to say to each other.”

  My chest muscles tense as I force myself to breathe through the anger. With every second of silence and every breath I take, the tension increases, until I feel as if my chest might explode.

  She sniffs. “Okay. We’ll talk later.”

  “Do you have your room key?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I’ll meet you at the hotel later.” I say the words quickly, hoping she’ll get the hint that I want to get off the phone.

  “Okay… Houston?”

  “Yeah.”

  She sniffs a bit louder this time. “I love you.”

  “I love you more,” I reply without hesitation, then I end the call.

  I drop the phone into the cup holder and clear the address out of the GPS. Then I sit back and close my eyes as I try to think of how I’m going to make it work with Rory if I can’t stand the thought of being anywhere near her father.

  I wish I could take Rory somewhere far away, where our past is just a distant memory. A place where we could wake up next to each other every day. And I’d look into her hazel eyes, brush her hair off her face, and she’d smile at me. We’d live for each day, not worrying about the pain we left behind, not hoping for a future that may never come. We’d be totally present. We’d never check the weather or save up for a summer vacation. Or look at old photos or read the same book twice. We’d always be looking for a new surprise. A new adventure.

  But that’s a fairy tale. Real life is messy. People hurt each other, even when they love each other. All you can do is deal with it.