“No.” His voice is tight and rigid.
I nod and get in the car. The bottle is still firmly in my hand, even as I buckle my seatbelt.
As we pull off, I realize one thing: Neil hasn’t asked for the bottle or even looked at it since I initially pulled it from my bag.
She doesn’t trust me.
Very few things in my life have hurt me as profoundly as this realization. Losing the trust of my parents as a teen hurt, but I was young and drinking too heavily to care. The loss of friends hurt also, but again, all that mattered then was getting enough booze.
It took years to regain that trust, especially from my parents and my sister. But this loss of confidence from Desiree? This hurts to my core, in particular, because I don’t have anything to numb me from the emotion in her eyes.
“Where are we going?” she questions after about ten minutes of driving.
“LaGuardia Bridge.”
“Why?”
I don’t respond because, as I’ve said already, I need to show her to make her fully understand.
“We’ll be there in another ten minutes,” I inform her as if she doesn’t know where the bridge is. Most people from this area of our city are very well aware of the bridge and travel it frequently.
“Okay, we’re here,” she says as we cross over onto the bridge. It’s only about six o’clock in the evening, but because it’s Christmas Eve, there aren’t many cars on the bridge.
Pulling over to the parking lane, I come to a full stop about mid-point on the bridge and put it in park. I glance over at Desiree before getting out and walking over to the passenger side.
“What are we here for, Neil?” she questions as I open the door for her.
I allow my gaze to fall to the bottle in her hands. “I’m explaining why you found that in my home.”
Her lips pinch, and her gaze falls to the ground before she inhales and then takes my hand to allow me to help her out of the car.
Still holding onto her hand, I walk us to the side railing of the bridge, pausing and staring at the dark water below. A million memories come flooding back.
“Sit with me.” I bend until my bottom hits the pavement, and my legs dangle over the edge. “I won’t let you fall,” I say to Desiree, holding my hand out to her.
She takes it, yet I still see the wariness in her eyes. “I’m not worried about falling. Besides, there’s a barrier ten feet below that would prevent anyone from falling to the river.”
I nod, staring down at the metal barrier she’s referring to. “Yeah. That wasn’t there ten years ago.”
I feel Desiree’s gaze on me as she turns her head; however, I continue staring out into the growing darkness of the night.
“I can make out the Christmas lights that line the main highway from here.”
Desiree looks up, and upon seeing the lights, she says. “Yeah.”
“Same as that night ten years ago.”
We lock gazes, and I nod to the bottle in her hands. “Flip it over.”
Her face scrunches up, but she begins spinning the bottle around.
“No, this way,” I correct, turning the bottle upside down.
“What’s this?” She fingers the white piece of paper taped to the bottle.
“That’s the receipt for that bottle.”
She looks down at it again, and her fingers move over the phone number in blue ink. “And this?”
