I thought I’d bring her back here instead to save time.
Okay, good luck with everything. See you next week.
Well, that certainly sucks. First, Liam says something that fills me with an abundance of hope, and then he decides to stomp all over that hope the next morning. Overflowing toilet. Yeah, right. That basement’s not the only thing full of shit. He just doesn’t want to lose his babysitter. Or maybe the thing that’s best done sober is turning a woman down, because if she’s been drinking, there’s a higher chance she’ll overreact.
I stew over it while I eat a bowl of Mini-Wheats and watch as the trees outside are blown around by a furious wind. Then I go into my office so I can use my own personal angst for Beatrice, who has just found out the reason Ian has been rebuilding the orphanage for free. It’s not because he fancies her, but because he accidentally set the fire.
I spew out angry pages all day, breaking for lunch, then getting right back to it. After dinner, the wind and I both give out, and the world outside feels suddenly calm again. My mind refuses to distract itself from Liam, so I pull on a fleece hoodie and my Keds, and I go for a long walk, finding myself in front of the pier.
“I should just go home,” I mutter. What exactly would I say if I went up to his boat right now? ‘Hey there, I’m sober now, what’s that thing you wanted to do to me?’
I stand, staring at his boat, then shake my head. “Screw it. Whynotjust say that?”
A light is on inside the cabin and I wonder if Olive is still awake. If she is, I’ll just say hello, then walk back home. Hmm. This is a bit awkward. I can’t exactly ring a doorbell, and once I’m up the ladder, it’s basically the equivalent of letting myself in unannounced and uninvited. I pull my phone out of my pocket, then dial Liam’s number and wait. I hear his cell phone ringing, then the sound of a light cough. He must be sitting outside on the deck.
He doesn’t answer, and I consider turning back, but then for no good reason at all, I call to him. “Liam? It’s me, Abby.”
“I know.” His voice is low and there is an unfamiliar quality to it.
“Can I come up?”
After a long pause, I hear a crashing sound. “Shit.”
I start up the ladder, not caring that I am intruding, and tossing aside my original purpose in coming here. Something is very wrong.
When I get to the top, I see him stumble as he bends down to right the chair that must have been responsible for the crashing sound. I watch in silence as he gropes around behind him to find his seat again, and I’m alarmed at the considerable effort it takes him.
“Liam, is everything okay?” I walk cautiously toward him, finding it difficult to see in the dim light.
He shakes his head. “I need to be alone right now, Abby.”
When I reach the table, I stand next to him and rest my fingers on his shoulder. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. Then I’ll go.”
He won’t look up at me, but from what I can make out, his eyes are blurry. There is an almost-empty bottle of scotch in front of him but no glass. He takes it and tips it back, then clicks his tongue and says, “Aah, yeah, yeah, yeah.”
“Is Olive at her grandparents’?”
Finally, he looks at me. “Do you really think I’d do this with her here?” He’s obviously insulted. Angry. Ready for a fight.
“No, I’d never think that of you. Is today an anniversary or did it hit you out of the blue?”
His head rolls back, and he looks up at me in surprise. Then he turns to face the floor. “The first one.”
I pull up a chair next to him and sit down. I’ll wait.
“He would’ve been six today.” He hands me a photograph he’s been clutching in his left hand. It’s of Olive holding a tiny baby. The baby has the same dark curls she does and is looking up at her as she smiles at him. She is so little herself, with big chubby cheeks.
I feel a lump in my throat but swallow it. This is not my pain. I’m here for Liam. “He’s beautiful.” I place the photo on the table and put my hand on Liam’s arm, gently rubbing it.
“He was.” His eyes are full of tears, and even though he’s looking at me, I know he’s not seeing clearly. “I killed them. Nobody around here tells you that. They all act like I’m a fucking saint. But I’m no saint. Someday Olive’s going to hate me. When I tell her the truth, she’ll never look at me the same away again.”
My hand stops moving on his arm, but I don’t take it off.
He’s crying now in violent sobs that erupt from his chest. “I should have driven them to the doctor. Malcolm had his booster shots that morning. He never slept. Colicky little thing, like his old man. Cried most of the time. Sarah was exhausted.” He traces the baby’s face with his finger. “I knew better. A little voice told me not to go, but I ignored it. I told myself they’d be fine, and I went off with Jake.” His words slur together, and he shakes his head as if the thought is too much for him.
Tears fill my eyes now, and I’m grateful that the night sky hides my face from Liam. I force my breath to stay steady so he won’t know.
“What kind of a man does that? Just goes off like that, to go fishing and drinking all day, when his wife and his babies need him home?” He waves his hand in the air wildly as he poses the impossible question to the night air.
