CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO - ALEC
“Did you happen to go off and get a psychology degree when I wasn’t looking, Daniel?”
“When?” he repeats. “When did you fall in love?”
“What are you doing, Danny?” Christine asks.
“Fixing it,” he says.
He smiles at her. She smiles back, her cheeks still wet from her tears. An inside joke. One that I wasn’t privy to and, right now, don’t feel I should ask about.
“When, Alec? When was it that you decided you loved me? Loved us? When was the moment you knew?”
I stop sipping my drink and go ahead and down it whole. The muscles in my jaw spasm a bit when the flash of liquor passes over my tongue. I wipe my bearded lips with the back of my hand and place the tumbler on a side table. I trace the rim with my finger.
“I’ve always known,” I say.
“Not good enough,” he replies. “Be specific.”
“Why?”
“Why?”
“Why?”
“Because. Because… a lot of reasons. Because you’re always so fuckin’ witty. You’re always so goddamn charming. But right now, I just want you to be honest. I want all of us to be honest. I know honesty is in short supply in this bunch, but I wanna give it a try. Because there’s a lot—a whole fuckin’ lot—that suggests we should go our separate ways again, but only one thing that suggests we should stay here together.”
“Love,” I offer, quite on impulse.
Danny points his finger at me and nods his head. “Gold star for Alec.”
I feel itchy to leave. On the surface that’s because I’m eager to go back to my estate. I want to get to Lars before he disappears. I want to know why he brought me here. How he saved me. How he survived himself. And what his goddamn plan is. Maybe, maybe there’s a chance that he’ll say something that keeps me from killing him where he stands. Because if not, I have to protect these people here and one little girl I only just met. I have to. Because I’m the one who can, and something tells me that if I don’t then it might not happen.
But, as I say, that’s on the surface. Below the surface is the fact that I feel itchy to leave because opening up a vein and bleeding my truth all over this suite is not something I’m eager to do. I’ve already bared just about as much of my soul as I can tolerate. But he’s right. It’s either get clean, get bare, right here, right now, or pretty much accept that I never will and say goodbye to them both. So that don’t leave me a choice I can stomach. I have to live in this discomfort. And thus…
“Do you remember Misty?”
“Misty?” Danny asks.
“A girl that I was distracted by for a bit.”
“I do,” says Christine. “The one in Alabama. The one we stole the necklace from.”
“Was it Alabama?” I ask. “I can never remember. Regardless… yes. That one.”
Danny squints his eyes, thinks, then says, “The one you threw off the bridge?”
“In fairness, I didn’t throw her. I was attempting to keep Christine from killing her and she was lighter than I had anticipated.”
“What about her?” Christine asks.
“Then,” I say. “That was when.”
“That was when what?” she says.
“That was when I knew.”
“You knew you loved us when you tossed some chick off a bridge?” Danny says.
“Yes, Danny, that’s exactly it. You get it completely.” The sarcasm in my voice should be sufficient, but to be sure, I emphasize it with a small golf clap and then continue tracing the rim of my tumbler. “To be clear: I wanted to throw her off the bridge. I did. Of course, I did. She laid her hands on you.” I nod to Christine, who blinks. She sniffs a bit. “I can’t describe the feeling—”
“Try,” Danny says. I twist my neck and clear my throat.
“Yeah, well, it felt like… it felt as though she was striking me. And not just with her fists. Her words. The wretched venom she was spitting out at you both, I could feel it in my gut as real as any punch. I’d never felt anything like that before. That type of emotional reaction to something that wasn’t aimed directly at me was altogether new. I didn’t know what the feeling was at the time.”
“And you think that was love?” Christine asks.
“No, no,” I answer, carefully. “No, I think that was… passion. Maybe even com-passion, if the idea that I can feel compassion isn’t too radical a concept to consider.” I don’t know if it’s the bourbon or all the truth, but I’m actually starting to get just a wee bit lightheaded. At least I don’t feel any discomfort in my ribs anymore. “Hearing her call you those things, and knowing what you two had both had to fight through just to be where you were—which is to say, alive—caused me to become hurt for you. Because she had never known pain. Had never known suffering. She was just a spoiled brat who was angry because she couldn’t have what she wanted and was taking it out on those who she saw as inferior. The entitlement sickened me.”
“Wow. Well, that’s fuckin’ funny, ain’t it?” Danny says.
“Yes, Danny, my bru. I reckon it is. But when Christine fought back… Christine, when I pulled that car over and saw that you weren’t about to back down… that you weren’t going to be marginalized… that you weren’t about to let anyone else define you or play second fiddle to anyone… well. I think it’s possible that that’s the moment I fell in love with you. When I saw that you were a person who will not be broken. That you will always fight back. How could I not love that?”
“I was, like, thirteen,” Christine says.
“Yes. You were.”
“You think you’ve loved me since I was thirteen?”
“No, nunu. I know I have. The essence of who you are. The parts of you that make you you. They’ve always been there. And I’ve always loved them. And Danny…” He’s dropped his leg and slumped down into his seat now. He has his hands folded by his chin. “Danny, my boet.” I smile. “I thought you were so fokken cool from the first time I saw you. I’ve told you before the whole reason I beat that oke in the boxing gym that day was to impress you. I wanted you to think…”
“Think what?”
“That we were the same.”
“We’re not,” he says, with a small laugh.
“No, I know. But I wanted you to think we were.” He laughs louder. “But just as with Christine, it was the night that Misty fell that I discovered that I loved you. Truly loved.”
“How come? What about it?”
“When she went over the side and Christine cried—"
“I didn’t cry,” Christine interrupts.
I don’t want to correct her because I don’t want to start an unnecessary fight but… “You did, luv.” She’s wrong.
“I so did not.”
“Christine”—Danny wanders in—“you did.”
“Fuck you both. I don’t remember that.”
I start to say, You don’t remember a lot of things, but good-natured joshing seems like it’s still a fair distance from being earned.
“Well,” I say, “regardless, you were upset. Understandable. We had just watched a girl go flying over the edge of a fifty-foot drop. But you were upset, and I saw the way Danny raced in to comfort you. He wrapped himself around you like a protective cloak. And that immediate care for you. That honest, human goodness. That love for you. It made me love him.” I look up at Danny as I finish saying it. He’s staring at me. Expressionless. “I fell in love with you, Danny, because I knew then that no matter what happened between us… you’d always be there.”
“Yeah?” he says. “But I wasn’t. Eventually, I wasn’t.”
“I beg to differ. But no matter either way. You’re here now.” My eyes smile at them both. It doesn’t land on my lips, but my eyes beam at them. “But… and I want to be very, very clear about this… even if you were not here, I would love you just as much. The very same way. I have loved you both since that night. I have loved you when I’ve been near you and when I’ve been apart from you. I have loved you fully and without reservation. I have loved you without qualification or caution. And while I love the joys you bring to my life, that is not why I love you. I am the most selfish person you will ever know. I want what I want, how I want, when I want. But when it comes to you two, I only want for you to be safe and for you to be happy. I’ve done a fokken wretched poor job of showing that always, but it is always how I’ve loved you. Underneath it all… I would trade my life for either of yours any time. Always.”
I pick up my glass and regard a small, swirling amount of liquor left in the bottom. I reflect for a moment on all the words I just said, examining them to make sure I didn’t leave anything out and that it’s all completely honest. I feel certain I didn’t and that it is, but I want to be sure, so I add…
“I mean, look, I’m not much of an expert in matters of the heart. I’m not certain that what I described is even love in any traditional sense. I don’t know. I have no idea what other people feel. But to me, that’s what love is, and I mean every syllable of it.”
I take in the tiny trickle of remaining bourbon and feel the hint of a sting.
When I finish swallowing, I conclude with…
“And I hope that answers the question, Danny. I really, really hope it does. Because honestly, my sweet, sweet bru, for a worthless bastard like me, it’s the best I can do.”