Till It Hurts by Cora Brent
Tori
Now
Rochelle insists on cooking for me. While I’m in the shower, she whips up egg and cheese omelets and designs a colorful fruit salad.
“Sit,” she urges with maternal authority. “Don’t forget to drink your orange juice.”
I have to suffocate my urge to laugh. This is probably the same tone she uses with Carrie and Rochelle is only eight years older than me. When she married my father, she was younger than I am now.
Rochelle watches me with earnest worry as I cut the edge of the omelet with the side of my fork. Hunger always makes food taste even better and in no time I’ve carved up most up the omelet and obediently swallowed half a glass of Vitamin C. No longer do I have the urge to laugh. I can’t deny that it’s nice to feel cared for.
Meanwhile, Rochelle takes dainty bites across the small table and tries to hide the fact that she’s watching my every move.
I set my glass down. “How much did he tell you?”
She doesn’t shy away from the question. “Jace said you had developed an addiction to painkillers and were likely suffering from PTSD.”
I blow out a breath. “That has a rather terrible ring to it when said out loud.”
“He’s right, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
Rochelle nods. She doesn’t lecture me or ask why I didn’t seek help sooner or judge me for being foolish enough to stumble into an abyss that has ruined countless other lives.
She gives me a smile. “You changed your hair back. I like it. Your natural color suits you. Carrie might be disappointed. She thought she’d won you over to her world of pink.”
“She doesn’t know, does she? About me?”
“Of course not. I told her I needed to visit a friend for a couple of days. She’s always thrilled to stay at her grandparents’ house.”
I already owe Rochelle so much. This isn’t the first time she’s come through for me in a disaster. “Thank you for being here.”
“Tori, I want to be here for you. I’m glad that Jace called me.”
My fork spears a plump strawberry. “Did he tell you where he was going?”
“No. He just said he had something he needed to do but he would return as quickly as possible.”
I nibble at the rim of the strawberry. Jace would not have left right now without good reason and I believe his promise that he’ll be back soon. Yet I hear the echoes of my own thoughtless words from last night and a tremor of shame strips my appetite.
I meant to tell him. I really did. Just not like that, not blurted out in a weak, hysterical moment when I lacked the strength to share the rest. He has to hear the entire story, terrible as it is. It’s his story as much as it is mine.
McClane reminds us of his existence by raising his right paw and adding a rather pitiable howl to the conversation.
Rochelle laughs at the dog and tosses him a portion of her omelet. Then he looks to me and awaits a second helping, which he receives.
“What a spoiled little boy you are.” I hold his big head in my hands and playfully scratch his ears. For that, I earn a big, wet tongue on my hand and a gaze of unconditional adoration.
Rochelle brings her plate to the sink and her attention is caught by something in the living room. She walks over to the piano and picks up the photograph that I left on the music stand the other day when I was thinking about finding a frame for it.
Her eyes are fastened to the picture in her hand as she reclaims her seat in the kitchen. She turns it around. “How old were you guys here?”
“I had just turned twelve. Colt had just turned eleven. Jace was also eleven.”
She props the picture against the napkin holder and considers it with a smile. “Colt is the same height as you here. Hard to believe.”
“Yeah, he shot up like a rocket the following year. Both him and Jace. By the time we got to high school the top of my head didn’t even reach their shoulders.”
“The three of you were always together,” she says. Not a question. She knows.
“In those days. Technically, Jace was Colt’s best friend, not mine, but I tagged along with them everywhere. I didn’t have any other close friends. Plus, my brother had a knack for finding trouble and someone needed to keep an eye on him.”
Her eyes shift to my face and become sad. “Are you going to let him know?”
“About this? No. He won’t want to hear it. Colt tends to surface twice a year for a two minute awkward conversation and then submerges back into his solitary, nomadic life.”
“I see,” she says and then frowns. “I’m sure Eric never told you this, but after Carrie was born, he deeply regretted his failure to be a father to Colt. He blamed himself for Colt quitting football and dropping out of school. He wished with all his heart that he’d invited you both to live with us the year your mother moved you to Bredon.”
“But he didn’t,” I whisper as unwelcome images of that year crowd my head.
“No,” she confirms gently. “He didn’t. People are flawed, Tori. We don’t always do what we should. All we can do is learn and try to be better than we were.”
I look her in the eye. “Do you know who Colt’s real father is?”
She slowly shakes her head. “As far as I’m concerned, Colt’s father is Eric Malene.”
But this isn’t true and I’m struck with sadness on my brother’s behalf. He bore no responsibility for how he was brought into the world but he suffered for it all his life. Things could have been different, so different, if only the people who were supposed to be adults had behaved like adults.
“Please don’t be angry with him.” Rochelle guesses my thoughts and looks distressed. She’s not talking about Colt.
“I’m not,” I assure her. My father’s dead. He’s no longer in a position to fix his mistakes. And being angry with my mother is a waste of time. There’s little chance she’ll wake up one morning and feel compelled to make amends for all the hurt she caused.
“So.” Rochelle’s expression becomes slightly mischievous.
I lift an eyebrow. “So?” I can predict what she wants to know.
“So what’s new in the wide world of sports?”
I have to laugh out loud. “I guess that’s your way of asking if I’ve been getting naked with the Super Bowl champ.”
“Have you?”
“Rochelle!”
She shrugs. “I have to take my excitement vicariously. You are blushing, by the way.”
I’ve never had a decent poker face. “Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, things have gotten…intense between me and Jace.”
She’s smug. “That’s what I figured.” Then she gives the matter some thought. “I was skeptical when you told me Jace was around. I didn’t know if he deserved the chance to be back in your life. But I heard his voice last night and I saw the look in his eyes today. I do believe he cares about you very much. The connection between the two of you isn’t one that will ever disappear.”
“I love him, Rochelle. I can’t help it. He’s my heart, even after all these years.”
She sighs. “It’s good that you love him. Just make sure to love yourself too.”
“I’m trying.”
Rochelle toys with her wedding band. “You don’t know this, but he came to your graduation.”
I’m shocked. “Jace did?”
She nods. “He stood all the way in the back, apart from everyone else. He wore sunglasses and a baseball cap and I could tell he was trying not to be recognized. I’m sure he was there alone. Eric noticed him and became furious. I begged him not to do anything but your dad stormed over there anyway. Whatever he said to Jace was enough to make Jace lower his head and leave. And your dad asked me not to tell you that Jace was ever there so I didn’t. He was just trying to protect you.”
I hardly remember my high school graduation. I never really did make friends at Bredon High and after Colt dropped out in the middle of senior year I hated the place even more. No one would ever guess this by looking at my grades. I maintained all A’s to the very end and earned a way to get away from Bredon. Away from Texas. Away from everything and everyone that reminded me of Jace. I thought I could outrun my broken heart. What a fool I was.
“Rochelle, can I ask you something?”
“Always.”
“What do you think my father would say if he were here?”
She considers the question with care and twists her wedding band all the while. “I think he would want you to know that you are loved no matter what. I think he would tell you that it’s okay to cry and to accept help. And lastly, I think he would tell you Jace Zielinski better earn the right to be at your side if he wants to keep his balls attached.”
“That sounds accurate,” I laugh. Then I wince. “You miss him so much, don’t you?”
“Yes. Forever.”
I reach for the black handbag on the counter. When I feel inside, my fingers brush the hated shape of the pill bottle and I wish my instant revulsion was enough to persuade me to flush the contents down the toilet. But I know I won’t do that. I leave the pill bottle where it is. My phone has sunk all the way to the bottom and a moment later I’m handing it over to Rochelle.
“Oh!” She touches a hand to her lips when she sees the teenage face of Eric Malene in the photo being displayed. “He was so very young.”
“Seventeen the year they won state.”
She nods.
“You should show Carrie.”
She nods again. She blinks away tears.
I should remember to do more for Rochelle. And for my sister. We’re a family.
This morning was anything but usual and I actually forgot what day it is. I forgot that I’m supposed to be at work. With a renewed sense of mortification, I call my boss to explain. Paul, however, has already heard from Jace. He wants to stop by the house at lunch. He offers to bring tacos.
Rochelle is charmed by Gloria’s garden and suggests going out in search of flowers to plant. I like that idea. The early spring air is a delight and I’m reminded of happy long ago days thick with the perfume of cut grass and pollen. We buy marigolds and snapdragons and geraniums in all the colors.
Paul arrives promptly at noon with a large bag from Dave’s Tacos. He greets Rochelle warmly and says nice things about my father. She’s invited to sit with us on the back patio but she prefers to go inside and get set up in Gloria’s room.
“I can add more ice,” I say to Paul as I hand him a glass of lemonade.
He shakes his head. “This is perfect.” He drinks half the contents in three hard gulps. Then he sets it down and threads his hands together. The penetrating lawyerly look on his beaked features is a little intimidating.
“Paul, I’m so sorry. I know I’ve let you down. You must think I’m a complete flake.”
“Shush, none of that. Your job will be waiting for you when you are ready to return.”
“I don’t know how long that’s going to be,” I admit. “Jace must have told you at least a little bit about what’s going on.”
“No more than I need to know.” He spends his time assessing me and taps his fingers on his knee. “You’re an excellent worker.”
“I have to ask you something and I hope you’re not insulted.”
He tilts his head. “Ask away.”
“Did Jace ask you to give me a job?”
“He might have put the idea in my head. But I appreciate intelligence and the initiative to do something with it. Besides, I enjoy the energy you bring to the office. You have good ideas and you don’t goof off. You’re also not in the habit of complaining that I ought to retire when you believe I’m out of earshot.”
I’ve heard Nina muttering variations of ‘Just retire already’, when reminded that she gets paid to answer the phone, not file her nails or play games on her phone.
I grin at him. “When are you going to retire?”
He grins back. “When I’m wearing a toe tag.”
The distant grey shape of a passenger plane skates across the sky far overhead. I think of Jace and wonder if he’s in the air somewhere.
“Gloria loved you, Tori,” Paul says. “I hope you know just how much.”
“I miss her. I should have visited.”
“She understood why you didn’t.” His shoulders sag and he gazes at the garden. “I miss her too.”
Then he notices the look on my face and he chuckles.
“Don’t be so scandalized, young lady. Even us fossils still enjoy companionship.”
“You and Gloria were…”
“We appreciated each other’s company,” he finishes and now his faded blue eyes twinkle. “Gloria’s one true love was Jacek and you must know I lost my Mary some years back. Both Gloria and I were just pleased to find a kindred spirit to spend our hours with.”
“Paul?” I pick at a paint scab on the patio table. “Did Gloria explain to you her reason for leaving the house to all three of us?”
“Yes,” he says and finishes his lemonade. His knees creak as he rises from the table and I believe that’s the only answer I’m going to get but then he taps his chin and says, “Gloria was an optimist.”
Paul feels for the keys in his pocket. “I should get back to the office before Nina sets the place on fire. I caught her smoking one of those vape pens at her desk yesterday.”
“Bye, Paul. And thanks.”
Once he’s gone there’s silence, disrupted only by the occasional chatter of birds. In another month or two the steady whir of summer insects will be deafening.
My fingernail scrapes the softly rotting table surface. I believe I understand Paul’s comment.
Gloria never lost hope for us. She thought true love and genuine friendship and a unique sibling bond would survive through time and distance and hardship. She thought we had a chance to find our way back to one another.
And suddenly it dawns on me that I know exactly where Jace went.