63
Somehow we made it to Lenore’s house. I don’t remember how. I just functioned. Keeping clear of obstacles, passing trucks, watching for turns. Exits. Stop signs. Downshifting.
Parked.
We walked into her house and I stood there, an astronaut with no flight suit, a surgeon with no scalpel, a hawk with no wings.
A glass of liquor got shoved in my hand. I stared at the dark caramel liquid, the fumes prickling my numb senses. I drank.
She went to a small red velvet box decorated with aqua beads and tassels which sat under a funky candelabra on a console table, and pulled out a suede pouch. My grandfather’s pouch for the compass. She took the drink from me and put the pouch in my hands. I opened it, and the broken pieces of my compass stared back at me.
“When Motormouth found me he ransacked my place, stole from me, broke your compass, tried to rape me. He was going to bring me back to Med and get a reward for it or kill me, because Med had gotten rid of his girlfriend and he was angry and upset. I was almost three months pregnant with Zoë at the time. I’d just found out that day, in fact. There was no way I was ever going back,” she said. “Especially not with our baby inside me.
“When Motor found the pictures of us, he told me he and Scrib had always suspected you of getting me out but they’d never told Med. Now, he was going to tell him. I couldn’t let that happen.” Her eyes were that cool blue now, her tone even. She regretted nothing. “I had our baby inside me. Ours. And she deserved to live a beautiful life. And I would do whatever it took to protect our child and protect you. But if I’d contacted you in jail and told you the truth, you would’ve suffered there trying to get to us somehow, and they would’ve come after us and gotten to you. I couldn’t take that chance.”
She was right.
Motionless, I stared at her, listening, not listening, raging, burning, the compass pieces heavy in my hand.
“I couldn’t wait to tell you about the baby on your next visit, but you got arrested. Sometime before that, Boner had shown up at Tania’s apartment looking for Grace, screaming about Dig getting killed, Grace losing her baby and disappearing. I listened to him rant and yell and cry. He was devastated. Shit, I thought, that could be me and Finger, but not some random kill blowing us up like them, but Med and Scrib doing the honors, punishing us. I wasn’t going to let that happen.
“I had to give our baby away. It was the only thing I could do. It was the last time I asked Tania for help. She arranged a place for me to stay in Pine Needle. She has a cousin there, Sarah, who’s a nurse who helped me get some odd jobs and find an adoption agency. They found a couple right away. When the baby was born with Down Syndrome, I was in shock. The adoptive parents were in shock. They freaked out. I’d never had the amnio the doctor had wanted me to have after a sonogram showed a possible heart issue. All the other tests were perfect, and I was in my early twenties, I figured…but it turns out, age doesn’t matter.”
“How? Why?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know of any DS in my family. The doctor told me that it could have been just a clash that happened when the egg and sperm got together.” Her face clouded, she murmured, “A clash that made a mistake.”
“Mistake.” The word felt foul on my tongue.
“But she’s not a mistake. Not to me. Not to Gail and Steve. Fuck the world that says she is. They told me to have the amnio to be prepared. Prepared for what? The worst? I should get rid of her because she’d be a burden? Because she’s wouldn’t be acceptable in normal society? Am I acceptable? Are you?”
“No,” I breathed.
Lenore’s eyes filled with water. “She just has an extra chromosome. Just one more.”
Like I had one less finger on each hand.
She took in a breath of air. “But that couple didn’t want her anymore. It got ugly, and I panicked. I thought that’s it, everything’s over, what was I going to do? I was so scared for the baby. How was I going to protect her now? But I’d come this far, I couldn’t give up.
“Sarah knew this older couple in Pine Needle who’d never been able to have kids. They’d been through lots of miscarriages, lots of expensive fertility treatments they just couldn’t afford. They also couldn’t afford that disappointment anymore, and they’d given up. She asked them, and they said yes right away. They were thrilled.”
“Gail and Steve.”
“Yes, Gail and Steve.” Her tone was flat. “I had two days alone with my baby. Two days in that bright and noisy Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, her in my arms while I held her feeding tube because she couldn’t feed otherwise. I sang to her. Rocked her. Told her about you and me, about my grandma. Those were the best days.”
“Lenore—”
“She ended up staying in that NICU for three weeks until she could use her mouth to suck on a bottle. Lots of Early Intervention therapies were mapped out for her, she saw a variety of specialists for a variety of tests. I didn’t have health insurance or money for any of that. I had breast milk, though. I pumped every day so she could eat, handed it over, and left the hospital without seeing her. Every day.”
She wiped at her wet eyes. “She needed a stable home, a steady income, and some kind of impenetrable cloak to hide her existence from Med and whoever the hell else was on my ass and yours for whatever reason. Even Turo. I couldn’t trust that he wouldn’t show up one day asking for something else.”
She drained the liquor from the glass. “They named her Zoë,” she whispered. “It’s a Greek word. It means—”
“Life.” My heavy eyes slid to hers.
“Yes. Life.” Our gazes held tight, the silence around us vibrating with a thorny joy, a murky sorrow.
“I took off for LA to keep a solid distance between me and Zoë and you. A fresh start. Clean slate,” she said. “I met Eric, and when he told me he was originally from Rapid City, it was a sign to me, a good sign that maybe I would one day see our daughter in some way. Once he and I got married, we ended up splitting our time between Rapid and LA. After the divorce all I wanted was the house in Rapid. Eric thought I was crazy. Give up everything we had going on in LA for South Dakota?”
“It was your chance to be near her.” I took in a breath, braced to say her name, for my lips to form the sounds, now, now that I knew. “Near Zoë.”
“Yes. After the divorce, I wanted to be here.”
“Did you tell Eric about her?”
“No, never. Then when Beck decided he wanted to be in LA for high school, I moved to a smaller house in Meager, figuring, that was as close as I could get, and anyway, Meager was familiar to me after hearing so much about it from Tania. Just knowing Zoë was nearby was so good. Knowing she was thriving, safe, doing so well, being loved the way she should. That was good. That was enough.”
“Enough? She’s our daughter.”
“I couldn’t have kept her, Finger. I could barely support myself. Always looking over my shoulder as it was. You were in jail, and I didn’t know for how long. We always said leave no clues behind. The one time I did, I almost paid for it in the worst way. Don’t you see? Our baby was a clue, just like those photos I’d hung onto and Motor found. Holding onto those was a mistake. Huge mistake. What if I’d kept the baby and they’d found me and taken me back and left her alone? Or killed her? Or taken her too, and fuck knows how she would’ve ended up. It was a good, clean thing to do. Like cutting off contact with Tania. I had to do it.”
Lenore took in a deep gulp of air, eyes blazing. “Zoë needed heart surgery her first month, and she got it with Steve and Gail. Yes, you and I had love, so much love, but we didn’t have stability and consistency, and those were the two things she needed that we would never have to offer her. And with you in jail for years, when would we ever be together to try and give her what she needed?
“What I did have then was determination to do the best for her. That’s what I used to fuel a solution, I focused on that and made the decisions I had to make.” She clenched her jaw. “It hurt. It burned. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Harder than anything Med ever did to me. Worse than being separated from you, worse than having to let you go.” Her voice caught, her head swayed to the side. “I had to let you go after giving her away. I couldn’t be with you and lie. So I did it and tried to make peace with myself.” She scoffed. “At least, I tried.”
My eyes jammed shut. She’d closed the door on us to open a new door for our baby, our helpless, innocent child.
“The only thing I was sorry for was you thinking I’d turned my back on you,” she said, her voice hoarse. “When I was pregnant with Beck and I saw you at that concert, the hate in your eyes—”
“But you didn’t stay with your husband.”
“I tried to love him, but I didn’t have it in me. I wasn’t good at being his wife. Giving up Zoë and turning my back on you were too difficult to get over. And when Beck was born, everything came back up again. You and Zoë twisted in my mangled heart as Beck filled it up.” She took in a deep breath. “I figured you must have moved on and had a wife and your own kids. So I tried to get on with life, focus on my work, my son.
“Beck was a gift. But it was hard. Zoë was growing up far away, and every time Beck hit a milestone, I’d ask myself, when did Zoë start walking? What was her first word? What did her voice sound like? What was her favorite food? Her favorite bedtime story? What colors did she look good in? What did her first drawings look like?”
My throat constricted. “She’s my only child. I want to know her. I want—” My heart veered like an eighteen wheel truck packed with heavy freight, out of control on an icy highway with a cliff up ahead. I had a child out in the world. A child who would never know that I was her father. My flesh and blood. My family.
Lenore had raised me up and destroyed me all in one go. My hand crushed the pieces of my compass as my eyes went to her tattoos. Tattoos of compasses and dreams. She had tracked the three of us and inscribed us forever on her flesh. She’d taken my broken compass and transformed it into a living, breathing thing, keeping her focused through all these years of wandering and doubt, stumbling and striking out, of forging ahead.
My knees buckled. I wrapped my arms around Lenore’s legs, burying my face in her middle, into the soft flesh of the belly that had carried our baby. Humility before an unspeakable sacrifice.
All my years of unsatisfied wants, my roars in the dark night, my acrid frustrations—all were hollow and dry and crumbling in my hands, falling away like dirt and ash before her unshakeable belief in doing right, her bravery in the face of such choices.
My eyes were hot, my face burning against the thin material of her blouse. I breathed in her perfume, but the sweet fragrance only drove home the bitterness of my regret. Shame filled my blood, swelling like a drug shot directly in my veins, doing its best to cripple me, knock me out. I crumpled her blouse in my fists, raising it, gripping her hips, suffocating myself in the warm scent of her skin, in her soft touch that glided over my forehead. A touch I didn’t deserve, but a touch I desperately wanted, ached and hungered for.
“She’s alive, Finger. Alive and happy. Let that be enough. Letting go of her gave her a really good life. A full, healthy, safe one. No fear, no running.” She ran a hand over my head. “Letting go of Zoë mended the broken hearts of two good people. Our girl made Gail and Steve’s dream come true.”
A horrible noise rumbled in my chest, up my throat. “I can’t.” My voice broke. “I can’t be grateful. I hate them right now. I hate you.”
Her hands dug into my hair, tugging, smoothing. “When I moved to Meager, I took the chance and asked Gail and Steve if I could visit at their store like a regular customer. Not often, just once in a while. They said once a month would be fine, and I assured them I wouldn’t ever tell her I was her mother. I didn’t want to anyway. The last thing I wanted was to confuse or upset Zoë. And I sure didn’t want anyone figuring out a connection between us. I just wanted to see her. Maybe talk to her.
“Our baby was a real person with likes and dislikes and wants and favorites and opinions. She was Zoë, Zoë Drake. She was ours, but not ours. Mine, but not mine. I could see her from a distance, wave and say hello, be pleasant, ask questions, share a joke, but that was all. And I took it,” she breathed. There was fire in those words, in her sharp, jagged tone. A primal roar, a growl that made the hairs on my arms stand at attention.
“And that’s what you’ve been doing?” I asked.
“Yes. Gail and Steve are down to earth, gracious, simple people. I had to prove that I wouldn’t be a problem. It was difficult at first, like falling off a bike when you’re trying to learn how to ride. In the beginning, I could barely speak to Zoë. But I did it. Once a month. And it’s been worth it. I don’t stay very long. I shop. I chat. I leave. It was good, still is. Still special. I’m the friendly lady with the pretty tattoos and colorful hair who likes to garden, who decorates her house with colorful tiles and pots and dishes and mugs made by a little girl with a crazy creative streak a mile wide who’s not so little anymore.”
“She has your eyes.”
“She does.”
“She’s beautiful,” I said.
“She is. I used to wonder what she’d be like without the Down’s, but then I realized she wouldn’t be Zoë.” A small smile broke over her lips. “I feel like I offered a little bit of good to this world.”
Lenore lived her sacrifice every damned day and found the positive in it. She was the strongest person I’d ever known. Did I have such faith? I let go of her and stood up, my head swimming.
She took my drink and had a swallow. “She met Beck once. That almost killed me. Like today, introducing the two of you was the most beautiful thing. The most beautiful, terrible thing.”
“Does Beck know?”
“No.”
A strangled howl escaped my chest. “I should have known. I should’ve known!” I pulled on my hair. “When I was stuck in that fucking jail, I needed to know you were okay, I needed to know.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want your fucking sorry! I don’t want it! I just want my fucking daughter. I want the life we could’ve had together. All of us together.”
Lenore said nothing. She only stood, watching me, letting me go. Now I understood her kiss back in my office, gentle then passionate. She knew once she told me everything would change. That kiss was yes, I want you, yes, I miss you, yes, I love you, I’m so sorry, I know you’ll hate me and never forgive me, goodbye.
She said, “The other night in my bed, you kissed me, touched me, and…oh, how you touched me. I knew I couldn’t be with you the way that touch demanded and deserved without telling you the truth. We can’t be together if it’s not completely real, completely honest between us. We can’t. I can’t.”
“I can’t either.”
Tears streamed down her face. “I know.”
A thick, heavy plunger rammed down my throat, jamming muck in my every vein. Everything we’d ever wanted had actually come true, but we’d had to deny it, close the door on it. We couldn’t have it. Just out of reach, just out of reach. Like always.
“There’s nothing but sadness here,” she’d told me the night before.
She was so fucking right.
My pulse blew, my lungs crushed together. I couldn’t breathe. For the first time in my life, I didn’t know what to do, how to handle any of this. This sorrow, this disappointment didn’t fit into a saddlebag on my bike along with all the rest of the crap I’d crumpled up and stuffed in there from day one. This…this…
I slammed out of her house, and she didn’t try to stop me, reason with me, chase me. I took off, and headed for Tania’s. I silenced my bike in her driveway and by the time I got to the front door, Butler had swung it open, Tania behind him.
Butler charged at me. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but you can’t just come over here any damn time you want. Tania’s my old lady, and I live here now.” He pushed at my chest. “Her mom’s not feeling good and is sleeping inside. What the hell is your deal?”
Tania stepped to his side, her hand on Butler’s back. “She finally told you.”
“Who told him what?” Butler snapped.
“That I have a daughter out there, practically next door,” I said.
Butler’s hand fell away from me. “You what?”
“She told you,” Tania said.
“I forced her hand. Only after I did a little digging myself,” I said.
“I’m glad.”
“Are you?”
“Watch it,” Butler’s tone was sharp.
“I wanted her to tell you from the very beginning, but she refused. She said it was the only way to be sure everyone would be safe,” said Tania.
“You helped her,” I said.
“She was in shock with you in jail and her not being able to see you or talk to you,” Tania said. “I knew it had to be more than a sad, lonely heart, but she wouldn’t tell me. So, yes, I helped her. I got her a room at my great grandmother’s house in Pine Needle which my mother had turned into a boarding house back then. She wouldn’t let me visit, not once. She didn’t want there to be any connection between us the moment she’d left Chicago.
“I did what I could for her, my cousin too, but she was on her own. And then she disappeared from Pine Needle, and I didn’t hear from her again. But that was okay with me, because I knew that was what she needed to do. I respected her wishes and I supported her decision and kept her secret. I gave her that peace of mind, because that’s what true friends do.”
“Tania—”
Her huge black eyes flashed at me. “We protected that child’s life. That’s what all this was about, Finger. Not her, not you, not me. You once asked me to take care of your Serena, and I did. I did that. This was about protecting that child above all else and at any cost.”
Something inside me cracked, the fissure spreading fast, cold shivers racing over my skin. A wave of emotion jolted through me, and my hands shook. Nausea surged up my throat and I choked it back down, but the acid boiled at my lips.
Tania touched my arm, and I recoiled. She said, “You were at the heart of every decision she made, every thought, every tear. There were so many tears, and you were in every single one.”
I heaved for air, the sun had fallen and the sudden frigid air of the early night sliced through my insides.
“Man, come inside.” Butler’s voice floated over me. “Take a breath. A cup of coffee. Don’t ride like this.”
I slapped his words away, his outstretched hands, his invitation to Betty Crocker comforts. I staggered off, to where I didn’t know. Away. Away from them, from all of it.
Tangled. I was tangled in a thick rope, clawing at it, no out, no escape. It only tightened and tightened around me. A savage snarl vaulted from my chest. I fell to the curb, my head in my hands.
“Baby, go inside,” Butler said to Tania.
“But—”
“Go.”
Footsteps behind me, a door closing in the distance.
“I had no idea,” Butler said. “That’s how loyal Tania is to you, to both of you. How faithful. You’re real important to her, and you know it. I know it.”
I knew that, and I didn’t resent Tania. I didn’t. I was glad Lenore had her to lean on in those terrible days. But nothing fit, nothing made sense, nothing. No words could help me, none came. The broken asphalt teetered between my legs through the blur as I struggled to catch my breath.
Butler propped himself on the curb alongside me. He leaned back on his hands, legs stretched out. The road lamp’s buzzy hum a few yards away from us seemed loud. Tree branches shuffled in the cold breeze. A car stopped at the stop sign down the street and made a right, its red taillights disappearing. The world kept turning, the world was unaffected and didn’t give a shit. Why should it?
Butler crossed his legs at his ankles. “Me and my first wife, we tried to have a kid, but it never happened, then she died. It’s too late for me and Tania now, and I got to say, a part of me is disappointed. And yeah, it sucks that you didn’t know you had a kid.”
I grit my teeth at the stab of that uninspired, lifeless nickname of my childhood being used for my daughter.
“It sucks that you didn’t get to raise her,” Butler continued. “Or be a part of her life, that she doesn’t know you’re her dad. But bro, she exists. She’s out there. You could get to know her, right? Maybe she can’t ever know you’re her real father, but you can still have her in your life in some way, a way that you’d both cherish. Me and Tania don’t get to have that. You and Lenore do. And at the end of the day, that’s a damn good place to be.”
A place to be.
That’s why Lenore had nestled herself here in the Black Hills, to be close to our daughter. To have a place. That’s why Grace and Tania had come back home. Even Butler. To have a place.
I had the wind, the road, my bikes, my fortress, my little empire. But did I have such a place? A place in someone’s life? In their heart? Where everything made sense, where you fit.
Next to me, Butler heaved a loud sigh. “Shit, I could really use a cigarette right now. Quitting sucks big time.” He recrossed his legs, glancing at me. “I’m gonna shut up now. But I’m staying right here.”
Twenty minutes later, I tore out of Meager, out of South Dakota. I rode hard.
Tania’s words from months ago drilled in my brain as the wind pounded me. “You had it all, and you both let it go.”
I’d let it go. Me. All these years I’d thought Lenore had gotten irritated with the difficulty of being together, hadn’t been able to cope in the long term, had let her fear ride her, and ultimately took the easy way out. My scorn at her wanting something normal had burned bright. Yet all this time, she’d remained true. She’d taken our broken compass and given it a new life on her body, stamping herself with the story of us, keeping us close to her always. A fairytale of dark and light. Evil and good. Ink woven memories, ink tears splattered on flesh. Her tears, blue green tears dripping down over us.
Love. All for love.
Had her love been stronger, truer than mine?
Mine was dark and mean and cruel. Bitterness had scorched my love, fueling me like a blowtorch that incinerated everything it touched.
Lenore had stayed the course of her True North. For a place. All for love, and the fruit that it had born.
My Harley plowed through the black night, the engine shuddering through me.
“Nebraska…the Good Life”
Why, why, why did we have to sacrifice love for love?