Believe

Chapter Eighteen Robin

I stood in the shower as long as I could stand, the water pouring over my face in a hot stream, washing away my tears and the tangy ripe odor of sweat and liquor and vomit. If only I could wash away my guilt and my confusion.

It seemed no matter what I did, I felt guilty. I worried about hurting everyone, my friends, my parents. Phoenix.

And invariably, what I did was hurt all of them, and me too.

Phoenix’s face had been terrible. I knew then, right when he said that I couldn’t hurt him, that I had. That I had hurt him like his mother had, that she was the inspiration behind his bleeding tattoo, and now I had added to that pain.

But I couldn’t deal with my own pain and guilt, and I definitely couldn’t deal with his anger. Not right now.

Leaning against the shower wall for support, my legs still rubbery, I dozed in and out of sleep, dreaming, or maybe daydreaming, I wasn’t entirely sure.

But in my head, I climbed aboard the rowboat I had painted, and rowed myself to the empty lighthouse in the midst of the stormy sea, and I stood on the rocks, waves crashing into me. It was cold and damp and lonely on my perch, the lights of land across the water winking at me in welcome. But I couldn’t cross back. I didn’t have the strength to row back from where I had come. So it was just me.

The knock on the bathroom door startled me, and I jerked awake, alert. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?” my mother called.

No. “Yes.”

“Can I come in?” she asked.

“In a sec.” Turning off the water, I shivered, goose bumps rising on my flesh. My mother had brought me an old terry cloth robe to wear, and after a cursory drying off, I wrapped myself in it. “Okay.”

She opened the door and gave me a smile. “I bet that wore you out.”

“It did.” Our house had been built in the seventies, and the hall bathroom had never been remodeled. It was still full of dark wood and lots of gold accents, and there was a little cutout for a vanity chair, which had been the same brass stool my entire life. I sank down onto it now, my lungs straining, the air too humid to breathe properly, hands still trembling. I was starting to worry that was a permanent thing, that weird little jitter to my fingers.

My mother came behind me and took the towel off the floor and dried my hair for me, her touch gentle. It felt so good to have her take care of me, like I was a little girl again, comforting me after my brothers had picked on me mercilessly. She picked up a brush and started to go through my hair, detangling the snarls that had been made as I had done who knew what in my incoherent state.

Suddenly, watching her in the mirror in front of me, the full impact of what had happened hit me and I started crying again. I could have died. Never, ever, in any way, had I ever been suicidal. I didn’t want to die. At all. Ever, frankly. I sure in the hell didn’t want to die now. But I could have, and it would have been my fault, and I would have caused my parents massive pain.

Phoenix had every right to be angry with me.

I was angry with myself.

“Robin. What’s going on?” my mother asked quietly. “Does this have anything to do with Phoenix? I have to admit, he wasn’t what I was expecting. He’s not the usual type of boy you date.”

“No, he’s not,” I said, voice tight with my tears. “Mom, I have to tell you something, and it’s not good.”

Keeping secrets hadn’t done anything good for me, and I realized that even if it meant my parents would be profoundly disappointed in me, I needed to be honest with them. I couldn’t do this by myself. Facing the truth was going to be hard, but hiding from it was worse.

“Yes? You know you can tell me anything. Are you pregnant?” she asked gently.

Ironically, something that would have given me a heart attack back in high school now seemed like the least horrible thing to have happening. Being pregnant would be way less frightening than being an alcoholic.

Still watching her in the mirror, her fingers smoothing over my now fully brushed hair, I told her, “No. I’m not pregnant. I don’t have the flu. I ended up in the ER last night with blood alcohol poisoning.”

Her fingers stilled. “Oh my God, baby. And you’re okay, the doctors said you’re okay?”

I nodded. “I’m fine. Phoenix and Rory called 911.”

She made the sign of the cross. “Thank you, Jesus.”

“I didn’t mean to,” I said. “It was an accident. I was upset and I drank more than I should have.”

Her face had lost color, and I could see her searching for the right thing to say. “Do you drink more than you should often?”

I shook my head. “I did. But not any more. Phoenix doesn’t drink at all, and he’s really mad at me. I scared him. I scared myself.”

Her arms came down around me, and she gave me a hard hug, her lips brushing over my hair.

And I cried, because I had disappointed everyone who mattered to me. Most of all I had disappointed myself.

I wanted to text Phoenix. A hundred times I started, and a hundred times I deleted what I was writing.

The truth was, he deserved more than a text message apology. I needed to say it in person. I needed to look him in the eye and tell him that I understood why he reacted the way he had and that I was sorry I had scared him.

For three days I slept and sat out on the back deck in the sun and thought. About me, about my future, about who I was. I cooked with my mother and I sketched and I did research on my mom’s laptop, looking at the options my parents presented me for alcohol counseling. There was one program where you went every day for three hours for a week, then once a week for three months. I thought I could do that, actually wanted to do that. I didn’t think I was going to repeat the vodka disaster, but why not make sure? Phoenix was right—I needed to know how to handle a crisis without escaping into alcohol.

I looked at rental apartments, and I looked at art programs. I didn’t want to be a graphic designer. I didn’t want to sit in a cubicle and click my mouse in design software. I wanted to be outside, painting in the park.

With Phoenix.

Alone with the trees ruffling their leaves, the first hint of fall in the air as I heard the high school marching band practicing two blocks away, I ran my finger over my bluebird tattoo.

Then I sent three texts to three different people. All three said the same thing.

Can I see you today?

Kylie was the only one in the apartment when my mom dropped me off, giving me three hugs before she would let me leave the car. In the kitchen, Kylie leaned against the counter in a defensive posture, her expression stony.

“Hey,” I said, softly. “Thanks for meeting me. I just wanted to say in person that I’m sorry. Really, truly sorry.”

“I honestly don’t have anything to say, Robin. I don’t even know what to say.”

“I know. I don’t really know what to say either, other than that if I been sober, I never would have done what I did. It’s no excuse, but I care about you and I never, ever wanted to hurt you.” There was no apology in the world that was going to fix what I had done, but I needed to at least offer it.

She nodded. “Okay, thanks for saying that. But I can’t promise that I will forgive you. I just need time.” There were suddenly tears in her eyes. “I’m not in a good place.”

“I know,” I whispered, tears coming to my eyes as well. “Me either. If you want to stay here in the apartment, I can move back to my parents. Just let me know.”

Kylie bit her lip. “Remember our first semester at college? We were all so excited for the freedom, and we were all so sure we had everything figured out . . . now I know we don’t know anything. Nothing makes sense. I want to be stupidly naive again.”

I totally understood where she was coming from.

But the truth was, I didn’t want to go backward. Only forward.

“Well, just learn from me . . . alcohol is not the answer.”

“I just can’t believe how much I misjudged Nathan. You could see the texts he’s sent me. He’s so cruel.”

No clue what to say, I just did what made sense to me, not caring if she rejected my gesture or not. I just wanted her to know I cared that she was hurting, so I reached out and hugged her.

Kylie hugged me back.

In my room, I found an envelope with Phoenix’s bold and stylistic handwriting on it. Robin.

Inside was a card with a couple in their eighties laughing on a park bench, holding hands. He had labeled them. You. Me.

The greeting card had been left blank on the inside, but Phoenix had written his own simple message. I miss you. I love you.

Clutching the card to my chest, I lay on my bed, tears rolling down my cheeks to fall on the comforter.

My pillow smelled like him.

Nathan opened the door and gave me a cocky look. “Unless you’re here to suck my dick, I have nothing to say to you.”

I stood in the doorway and took a certain amount of pleasure in the black eye he was sporting. Compliments of Phoenix, I had to assume.

“Sorry, no,” I said. “But I’m sure there are plenty of girls with low self-esteem who you can take advantage of.”

He snorted. “What do you want, Robin? I thought we had fun and then you go and tell Kylie and your boyfriend trashes my car. You are not my favorite person right now.”

“I never meant to tell Kylie. I never wanted to hurt her. She found your texts on my phone.” I had expected his anger, and I was prepared for it. I had just wanted to face him one last time and tell him exactly what I thought of him and his dickheadedness. “We made a mistake but you made it worse. You don’t deserve Kylie.”

“Yeah, well, you do deserve Phoenix. Go off and be losers together.”

Oh, he was a fine one to talk. But it didn’t really bother me. It was what I expected. “I will, thanks.” I gave him a sweet smile. “But stop texting Kylie hateful things or I will do to your balls what Phoenix did to your car.”

That seemed to catch him off guard. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You can say whatever you want to me, call me any nasty name you can think of, but leave Kylie the hell alone. Now.” I threw the plastic grocery bag in my hand on the floor at his feet, enjoying how appalled he looked. “And here’s the last of your crap from Kylie. She says to tell you to go to hell.”

I turned and walked away, calling over my shoulder, “And I’d like to add, fuck off.”

Damn, that felt good. Instead of hiding out, I was standing tall. Saying exactly what I felt. Defending a friend who I had hurt tremendously.

Nathan just slammed the door shut without a word.

That’s right. I was done with him.

Just one last stop to make.

The minute I pulled into the driveway and saw Davis on the front step, I should have backed out immediately. But I didn’t have the finely tuned sense of self-preservation that Phoenix and his cousins had. Totally the opposite. My first thought actually was that maybe Davis knew where Phoenix was, because he hadn’t answered my text.

But when he stood up and greeted me with a smile that was nothing like the casual friendliness he’d shown in the park, I felt a tremor of fear. “Where’s Phoenix?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

“Bullshit. Come in the house and let’s talk about it.” He opened the front door, making me wonder if Tyler and Riley had really left it unlocked or if he had picked the lock.

There was no way I was going in the house with him. “Sorry, I have to get to work. I’ll let Phoenix know you’re looking for him.” Maybe if I were polite, friendly, if I acted like I didn’t know anything was wrong, I could just retreat and call Jessica and let her know not to go home without Riley.

But Davis grabbed my wrist so hard I gasped. “Get in the fucking house,” he said, and I saw in his other hand he had a knife.

Oh my God. I started to sweat, my fingers shaking. I couldn’t think, had no idea what to do. I should kick him or hit him or scream. But I knew that none of the neighbors would come to my aid and he was twice my size. I was fragile, I knew that.

He couldn’t really want to hurt me. He probably wanted money, or drugs, or both.

Which proved again how naive I was.

He dragged me into the house and shut the door, and when I looked at the cold anger in his eyes, I realized that he could kill me. He could kill me without thinking twice about it, and I felt the fear that Phoenix must have felt when he saw me unconscious. I finally understood what that had done to him, because for the first time, I wasn’t looking backward at a close call, I was staring into the face of my mortality, and it was terrifying.

“What do you want?” I asked, amazed that I found the courage to speak.

He had placed himself between me and the door, but I took a few steps toward the kitchen, keeping my eyes on him. I was wearing a sundress and I wasn’t sure how fast I could run in it, but I was going to try to make a break for the back door. It would be better than going down without a fight.

He grinned. “Don’t worry, I don’t want you. You’re too bony for my taste, so as much as I might enjoy sharing a woman with Sullivan, it ain’t going to be you.”

Ridiculous to be proud of the fact that he didn’t hurt my feelings, but I was. His opinion of me didn’t matter in the slightest, and I was hugely relieved that he had no intention of raping me.

“I’m not sorry to hear that,” I told him.

He laughed. “Look, I just need someone to pick up a package for me, that’s all. You’ve got a car, and no one will notice you because a lot of students live in the building. Just go and ring the doorbell and take the package, and hand them the cash I give you.”

So he wanted me to pick up his drugs for him.

“Then you’ll consider you and Phoenix even?”

He nodded. “Totally. I can’t go myself. The neighbors know who I am, and someone might call the cops.”

Which meant that they might call the cops on me. “What if I get caught?”

“Rat me out.” He shrugged. “You’re not going to get caught. Put on your backpack or whatever and act normal. Look, there’s a thousand bucks riding on this. Do this and I’ll disappear, I guarantee it.”

This was so illegal. This was the end of my life as I knew it if I got busted. But I knew it was safer for me to do it than Phoenix. Not to mention his personal feelings about drugs. It would go against everything in him to run drugs for Davis, and most likely what would happen was they would wind up in a fistfight. And while Phoenix certainly had rage and a fair amount of skill, Davis was huge. I doubted that Phoenix would come out of it unscathed.

So I had to do it.

I was never brave.

For once I needed to be brave.

If I expected Phoenix to have my back, I had to have his, right?

But this was illegal. So wrong. Phoenix wouldn’t want me to do this. “What if I say no?”

He shook his head slowly. “You don’t want to say no, trust me.”

My heart was racing, and I felt sick to my stomach, but I knew this was too risky. Either way it was risky, so it was better to take the legal risky route. “Yes,” I told him. “Yes, I do.”

He took a step forward, the knife in his hand, and I was pulling out my phone, dialing 911 already when the front door opened.

It was Tyler, Phoenix, Riley, and Rory. It took the guys all of three seconds to assess the situation.

“Go,” Tyler said to Rory, shoving her back out the front door while shielding her with his body. “Lock the car until Robin comes out, then go.”

I was already bolting toward the kitchen, knowing full well Davis would reach for me, which he did. But I was fast, or maybe too scrawny, because only his fingertips touched my arm. Or maybe Phoenix or Riley pulled him backward. I didn’t turn around to look, I just ran.

But I did hear Phoenix say to him, “If you ever come near my girlfriend I will fucking kill you with my bare hands, you know I will.”

A shiver slipped up my spine. Once I was in the driveway, I finally let out the breath I was holding and got in the car with Rory. “Who was that?” she asked, looking scared.

“Drug dealer. Drive around the block. Do you think we should call the cops?”

“I don’t think the guys would like that. Easton, you know, the custody. Did he have a gun?”

“Not that I saw.” Rory cruised down the street, but she was already using voice command to call Tyler. He didn’t answer.

Suddenly feeling like I was going to throw up, I stuck my head between my legs. “I don’t think I handled that very well,” I told her, my words muffled from the fabric of my dress.

“I think you handled it better than I would have. I would have peed my pants.” Her phone rang, and she answered it. “Are you all okay?” Relief crossed her face. “Okay, good. We’ll be back in a minute.”

She hung up. “Everything is okay. They’re all fine and Davis left. He knew he was outnumbered. Phoenix wants you to meet him at the park in half an hour.”

I expected it to be awkward when I saw Phoenix. I had been shut down physically and emotionally when he left my parents’, and we hadn’t exactly had the best conversation. I also knew he would be feeling guilty about Davis.

But when I pulled into the parking lot at the park, he was sitting on a bench already waiting for me, hair in his eyes, arm tossed carelessly over the back. His eyes were closed, like he was enjoying the sun, and any nerves I had evaporated.

God, I loved him. I looked at him, and it just made my heart ache.

When I stepped out of the car, he was already standing, and he came toward me, steady, his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. He was wearing one of the band shirts I had given him for his birthday.

Without saying a word to me, he just cupped my face with his hands and kissed me. It was a deep, intense kiss, his tongue sliding across my bottom lip, his breath hot and sweet. His fingers were rough and callused on my skin, but his touch was gentle, worshipful, his kiss everything I could have hoped for and more.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered into his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he said in echo. “I shouldn’t have left like that. I was an asshole.”

“I shouldn’t have screamed at you. You’re right, I was shutting down.” I snaked my arms around his waist and leaned into the familiar feel of him, taking in his masculine scent, the warmth of his shirt from the sun, the muscles in his thighs against me.

“Come here,” he said, pulling me to the bench, and onto his lap. “God, when I saw you with Davis . . . I’m sorry. I never thought that he would find you.”

“I know, it’s not your fault.” I perched there, fingers clenching his T-shirt, kissing him again, and sucking lightly on his lower lip, relieved that he didn’t seem furious with me. I started crying, I couldn’t help it. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.

“Thank you for the card.”

He smiled. “You make me sappy.”

“I like sappy.”

His thumb rubbed over my hand and his expression grew serious. “Robin, you know that I’ve always been someone who lived in the now, who dealt with the now. But for the first time ever, you made me believe in a future. You made me want a future. You made me believe in you and me. And when I saw Davis with you . . . I thought, how can I drag you into my shit like that? I can’t ever walk away from the past. It’s always going to be with me.”

“I know that.”

He nodded. “And I also realized that it’s not up to me to protect you or save you from being with me. That you’re smart and you know what you want and I trust that.”

That meant more to me than anything else could have. “I know that what I want is you. I believe in you and me, too. And when I was there in the house with Davis, I realized what it must have been like for you to find me passed out, and I never want to hurt you like that again.”

He didn’t say anything. He just kissed me, a deep, tender kiss that made my whole body tingle.

“Phoenix, what happened to your hands?” I had looked down and realized his knuckles were bruised and scabbed, and his hands were actually swollen. “Is that from your fight with Nathan? It looks too old for what happened today.”

But he shook his head. “No. I have to tell you that you were right—I can’t react to every crisis with anger. That’s my problem that I have to deal with. When I was a kid I was diagnosed as having intermittent explosive disorder. It means I lose my shit uncontrollably. I always think I can control it, which is dumb considering the very definition means I lose it. So I have no right to criticize you for slipping and drinking. I went off on that car, and I would have preferred to go off on Nathan.”

It wasn’t surprising to me. I knew his anger was different, deeper. “I start alcohol counseling next week, just so you know. What scares me is how I sat there with that bottle and knew that it would make feel better, short term, but worse long term. Yet I couldn’t resist it. Not really.”

“My rage is alive . . . it’s like it’s moving cell by cell through my body. I should probably take the medication.” He gave me a small smile, brushing my hair back. “If you can deal with your stuff, I can deal with my stuff, and we’ll deal together. Fair?”

“Fair.” I nuzzled my lips over the side of his face.

“So what do we do now?” he asked.

“‘There is no remedy for love, but to love more.’ That’s Thoreau,” I murmured.

Phoenix kissed the corners of my mouth. “‘The future for me is already a thing of the past. You were my first love and you will be my last.’ That’s Bob Dylan.”

I smiled.