Page 94 of Solo

Oh, thank Christ…

“And Katherine?”

He looks down at the floor, clearly ashamed of his earlier behavior with her.

“I’ll apologize,” he says softly. And then, his head comes up and he meets my gaze squarely again. “Because I love her, too. Teaching Kate is what kept me sane after…after Casey.”

I consider debating the meaning of the word “sane” as it pertains to him, but decide to keep my mouth shut.

“Russell, I’ve said this before but I want you to hear me this time. If I’d had any idea what Casey was thinking… She was the love of my life, Russell.”

His translucent blue-white eyes bore into mine and I think, for a split second, that he just might spit on me. But he doesn’t. Instead, this gruff, nasty, grumpy man starts to cry.

I’m more at a loss than I was when Katherine started to cry that first night at my house.

“Russ,” I begin, and before I can stop myself, I’ve wrapped my arms around him. He doesn’t fight me. Instead, he leans into my embrace, his hands balling the back of my shirt as he sobs inconsolably.

“I just—I just miss her so goddamned much.”

I feel my own eyes start to water.

“I know,” I whisper. “Me, too. If you only knew how many times I’ve gone over it in my head. I should have known. I should have seen something.”

I push him away from me slightly so he can get a good look at my face when I say this.

“There was nothing, Russell. I swear. Nothing. She was too smart for all of us. She knew she couldn’t give any of us a single clue because we were all watching her too closely.”

He nods.

“I know that, Drew. I just—I wouldn’t listen. Maureen warned me so many times and I didn’t listen. Maybe if I’d listened…”

I shake my head.

“Man, there was nothing that could have stopped Casey when she set her mind to something. Not you, or me, or Maureen, or all of us combined. Maybe if we hadn’t lost the baby. Maybe. But I’m not even sure about that Russell. Christ, I’ve never said this to anyone else, but I sometimes wonder if that wouldn’t have made things worse. Postpartum depression and all that. Or maybe it would have saved her? I just don’t know.”

The tears are flowing freely down my face now, too. This time, he’s the one to pull me into an embrace. And, for the first time in nearly six years, grief trumps blame.

…

Wednesday May 3rd 5:16 p.m.

D: Come over.

K: No.

D: Why not?

K: You know why not.

D: What, you don’t think I can be trusted to keep my hands to myself?

K: *SNORT*

D: I’ve a steak on the grill and two potatoes in the oven. There’s a bottle of riesling chilling and I’ve even got an apple pie for later. With coffee. Real coffee. Not that instant shit your Secret Senator sent you.

K: LMAO! All right, all right. But I’m not staying over.

D: Bring your toothbrush and clothes for tomorrow anyway. Just in case.