Artic Lake—Heal Me
Emile Sande—Read All About It Pt.III
I hesitate as I hear Mom opening and closing the cabinets in the kitchen before sighing and walking down the stairs to face the Spanish inquisition.
She looks up from the counter with a small smile on her face and hands me a cup of coffee. “Hey, hon. How are you feeling?”
We both walk through to the living room and she sits down in the armchair opposite me on the sofa, curling her feet underneath her like I have.
“Fresh as a daisy after a good night's sleep,” I reply, lifting my lips into a small smile.
“Good, good.” Her eyes flit between mine and I can tell that she’s desperate to say something but she’s holding back.
I chuckle and take a sip of my coffee. “Say what you’ve got to say, God knows you will anyway.”
“I don’t want to be a busy body, Harm, but… have you seen him since you’ve been back?”
I know who she’s talking about without her voicing his name out loud, but I’m not in the mood to talk about him, especially so soon after seeing him for the first time in a decade.
I shift in my chair, cupping my coffee cup in my hands. “Why would you ask that?”
“You’re slipping into old habits. And I… I saw the painting in your studio, it’s not healthy.”
I shrug. “That’s nothing, I’m fine.”
“So?”
“So, what?” I ask flippantly.
“Have you seen him?”
I shift in my chair. “I saw him for two minutes last night.” I take a deep breath before delivering my blow. “Clayton and Izzie are his kids.” Her eyes widen but she doesn’t look as shocked as I was expecting her to be. I lean forward, narrowing my eyes at the look on her face. “Mom?”
She sighs, defeated. “I know.”
“You know what?” I frown at her, my heart starting to beat faster in my chest.
“I knew that Clayton and Izzie were his. I recognized him from your photos the second he stepped foot into the studio that first day.”
My head swirls at her betrayal. “How could you not tell me?”
She puts down her coffee cup and walks toward me, sitting down next to me. “I thought I was doing the right thing by not telling you right away. I planned on telling you after a few weeks, but you were so happy and I decided you discovering everything on your own may be better than it coming from me.”
I place my cup down and stand, turning toward her. “I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me, I could’ve prepared myself. I would’ve—”
“You would’ve hid away or done something drastic.” She stands and takes my hands in hers, her eyes begging for me to forgive her. “I’m sorry, hon.”
I sigh. “I guess you’re right.” I look away from her and down at our hands. “But I’m sad that I won’t get to see them again, they were great kids.”
“Why wouldn’t you see them again?”
“He’s hardly going to want his college sweetheart that he wronged around his children, not that I’d ever in a million years treat them any differently, but he doesn’t know that.”
She looks around the room. “I don’t know if this is the right advice but... maybe you should reach out to him and clear the air?”
My head snaps toward her at her bold statement. “That’s the last thing I want to do.”
Her face screws up. “Harmony, you’re going to be around each other whether you like it or not, so you have to be the bigger person. It’s about the kids; you know how much Clayton has come out of his shell over the last six weeks, he’s even interacting with the other kids. He needs this class.”
“I know,” I mumble, finally relenting and my stomach doing somersaults at the thought of my next sentence. “If they don’t turn up on Saturday, I’ll call him.”
She nods, letting go of my hands. “So, the man last night?”
“Oh, Ed? He’s Tristan’s driver.” I roll my eyes. “He used to drive us around when…”
She nods knowing what I was going to say before walking out of the living room. “We have to get going, I’ll be waiting in the car.”
“Huh?” What does she mean?
“Get your shoes on, we’ve got babies to cuddle.”
She didn’t give me the option to say no this time and now I’m here, I don’t know why I haven’t ever come before. How do moms know exactly what you need, when you need it? I guess it’s instinct, but this right here has both warmed my soul and broken my heart at the same time. It’s put perspective on things.
I look down at the tiny baby boy in my arms. His pink-colored skin looks like silk to the touch and his lips pucker as I run a finger over his cheek, finding my thoughts to be true. This tiny human is perfect, yet someone chose to destroy his first moments and a chance at life.
I feel the tremors shake his body; he’s addicted to heroin and going through the motions of withdrawal. It’s not fair that this little life should have to pay for his birth mother’s bad choices, but that’s the reality of it.
Mom smiles over at me, a sad look in her eyes. “It’s bittersweet, isn’t it?”
I nod, my eyes misting over with unshed tears. “It’s not fair. How are irresponsible people given the chance to become parents, when there’s women and men out there that are so desperate, but can’t?” My gaze travels over his tiny features. “Look at him. How is it possible that someone could be so reckless?”
“Generally, the addicts don’t bond with the baby or click that it is a real life they’re growing inside of them. Their addiction is too far gone to realize the damage that they’re doing,” a nurse interjects.
“Damage?” I ask, my face screwing up.
She nods, a sad expression on her face. “Apart from having to wean them off the substance they’re addicted to and dealing with the shakes, tremors, and need to have the particular substance, most are born prematurely or with defects, and they’re the problems that we can initially find out. The lasting effects will come later in life, if they survive.”
The information she’s reeled off makes me feel like she’s torn my heart out, and I feel the tears spring ever closer to the surface, threatening to fall. “If they survive?”
“The first few weeks are vital, but they’re the ones that aren’t allowed out with special people like you, they need constant care. These little guys…” She points around her to all the incubators “Aren’t out of the danger zone yet, but they’re getting there.”
A sudden need to protect the baby in my arms washes over me and I pull him into my body, trying to make him feel safe.
“Try not to get too attached. I know that it’s hard, but it helps hand them back at the end of the day.” The nurse must’ve noticed my body language.
I smile at her as I sit in the armchair beside the one Mom is sitting in. “I don’t know how you haven’t got a house full of babies by now. I want to take them all home.”
She chuckles. “It gets easier, I felt the same when I first started out.”
I hesitate before asking, “Do you think I should make this a regular thing?”
“It’s helped patch up my broken heart since your father passed, so I know this will heal your soul, Harmony. What you do at that studio is amazing, but this, this will help dull the pain you hold in your heart. I promise.”
I nod at her and lean back, laying the five pound, six ounce baby across my chest, my arms wrapped around him, determined to stop anything from ever hurting him again.
My office door pushes open, banging off the wall and echoing around the room. I whip my head up at the intrusion, a frown marring my face when I see who it is.
“Nate,” I growl, not wanting him in my office. I haven’t seen him since Izzie’s dance recital.
“Tris.” He walks inside, heading for the whiskey that sits in the crystal decanter on the table next to the leather sofa. “It feels like it’s been forever.”
“It’s been a couple of weeks,” I answer him, gritting my teeth and watching him through narrowed eyes.
Nate and I have been friends since we started college, in fact, he was the first one to spot Harmony all of those years ago before she dropped paint all over me. There was only three of us back then: Nate, Natalia, and me. That is until Harmony joined our group.
He’s changed a lot since the college days: his once long and wild brown hair is now cut short at the sides and a little longer on the top, not a strand out of place, and his suit is tailored to perfection compared to the skinny jeans he used to wear.
He was once the guy on campus who was into anything and everything, wanting to take things to the extreme: rock climbing, surfing; but not like your average person. He always wanted to climb the steepest rock faces and ride the biggest waves. Now he’s a shark in the courtroom and on permanent retainer for both me personally and the company. Although I’m thinking of changing that; the less I have to do with him now, the better.
I watch as he pours us both a glass of the amber liquid before heading over to the sofas and holding one out to me.
I walk over and take it from him begrudgingly, placing it down on my desk without taking a drink as my nostrils flare at the sight of him in my office. I snap my head toward the windows, needing a distraction from him. He reminds me too much of her.
“So?” he asks. “What’s been going on?”
I turn my head from the windows toward him, tilting my head to the side. I don’t know whether to tell him that Harmony is back in town and that I saw her, or whether to keep it quiet. I’m sure they’ll run into each other at some stage—if he hasn’t already.
The four of us were a unit: Harmony, Natalia, Nathan and I. I suppose that’s what made it even worse with my father making me marry Natalia, the fact that we were all so close. Nate had no choice but to choose sides, and he chose us. When we all started college, he took Natalia under his wing, looking out for her. She was always quiet, never saying much, but she was his cousin, and family is everything to him.
Deciding to omit that I know she’s here but knowing he won’t stop with the questions unless I give him something, I say, “Pete tried to turn the board against me.” I wince as soon as the words leave my mouth. All I want is to tell him to leave me the hell alone, to get out of my office and not to come back, but instead I’m making conversation with him.
“You’re shitting me!” He chuckles, throwing his whiskey back and getting up to pour another one. “What happened?”
I narrow my eyes at him, tilting my head to the side as I decide to test him. “He arranged a meeting with the board on Saturday while I was at the kids’ art show.”
“Fucking hell.” He shakes his head. “I can get my people to look into it?” he asks.
I nod my head in reply. “Yeah, get the team on it.” I tilt my head, watching him carefully before I say, “You know the art class the kids go to? ‘Willow Arts.’”
I wait for any telltale signs that he knew about all of it—about Harmony being back—but after several seconds, all he says is, “I think you mentioned it, would’ve been nice if you had invited me.”
I huff out a breath, feeling like I can never get a read on him anymore; not since he became a lawyer. I shake my head as I think about it, isn’t that what they’re paid to do anyway? Lie.
“I didn’t think it necessary after the stunt you pulled at the recital.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “I did nothing wrong and you know it, stop being an ass.” My arms cross over my chest, but he blows out a breath, changing the conversation back. “Did he really think he’d get away with it?” he asks, bringing the glass to his lips and cocking a brow.
“He did. Worked in my favor though, the board saw him for the slimy traitor that he is and now he’s gone for good.”
“What a dumbass.”
“Yep.”
I stand up, walking over to the windows and placing the palms of my hands on the cool glass relishing in the silence for a few seconds.
“How’s the kiddiwinkles?” he asks.
I wait a beat before I clear my throat. “They’re good.”
“We haven’t spent any proper time together in a while, we should do something fun!” I see his face break out into a big grin in the reflection of the glass, his eyes sparkling. “How about a cookout!”
I turn around to face him, narrowing my eyes as I start to think it over. Being around family and having fun would do the kids a world of good and maybe it’s exactly what they need. I can feel the selfish side of me rearing its ugly head because I don’t know if I can be around everyone at the same time, having them all studying me and asking if I’m okay every five seconds. But it’s not about me, this is for the kids. I can’t even remember the last time we had people over at the—
Wait, no, I can. It was Izzie’s baby shower.
Shutters slam down in my mind, shutting down the idea right away. My mind wanders as I think back to that day, to all of the people who came to wish us luck; to celebrate Natalia’s pregnancy. It was the last time many of those people saw her alive.
I swallow at that thought and close my eyes, trying my best to keep my composure.
“No, I’m busy.”
I straighten up, pulling the cuffs of my jacket down, twisting the buttons that sit on the outside.
“You know what,” Nate says while slamming down his glass on the table in front of him. He stands up, a frown on his face. “You need to get your shit together.”
My head reels back and my hands clench into fists at my side. “You need—”
“No.” He slices his hand through the air. “I don’t need to do anything.” He takes two steps forward. “If you opened your fucking eyes, you’d have an idea of what is going on around you, but you’re too stuck in your own selfish bubble to realize that people need you.”
“That right?” I ask, a sneer pulling at my lips. “Do you have any idea what it’s like going back to that house every day knowing that she’s not there?”
“Tris—”
“Do you have any idea what it’s like to hear your son screaming for his mom during the night? To be so scared of the dark that he has to sleep with countless nightlights on, knowing there’s nothing you can do to help him?”
“Tris, I’m not talking about the kids—”
I take a step forward, toe to toe with him now as I grind out, “Do you have any idea what it’s like to look into your daughter’s eyes and see your dead wife? Do you? Huh?”
The tense atmosphere wraps around us as we stare each other down, both of our chests heaving.
“Do you think you’re the only one grieving?” he thunders. “She was my family too, just like those kids are. Yet you won’t even talk about their mom.”
“Because I fucking can’t!” I choke on the sob that bubbles up, a giant ball lodging in my throat as I squeeze my eyes shut. “I can’t talk about her,” I whisper.
I feel his hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. “You have to, not for you, but for those two little humans who need to know all about her.” I open my eyes, trying to hold back the traitorous tears. “Clay may think he remembers her, but he doesn’t. He remembers the idea of her. And Izzie? She never met her and yet you won’t tell them what they need to know.” His words hit me like a ten-ton brick in the chest, making me stumble back. “I can’t—”
“They need to know about her: the way she danced, the way she sang to Clay, the way she would read Izzie princess books while she was pregnant.” He pauses for a beat. “Did you not see the way that Izzie’s eyes lit up when I talked about Natalia dancing?”
Truth be told, I didn’t, I was too wrapped up in my own mind, struggling with the memories. A muscle in my jaw ticks at his words because he’s right, but it still wasn’t his place to say anything to Izzie about her.
“They need to talk about her, Tris. You’re acting as if she never existed.”
I’ve been so good at pushing it all aside, not wanting to entertain even the smallest thought about her that I’ve forgot all about the good times. There were many; that was the thing with Nat and me, we had the same sense of humor and loved to laugh.
Closing my eyes, my world spins as I start to realize that I’m the only one who can tell the kids about their mom; the only one who can explain how much she loved them.
“Come on,” Nate says slapping my shoulder gently. “You need an afternoon off, let’s go and have a drink.”
I shake my head, pulling back from him as the anger comes back to the surface and my eyes clash with his. “No… I told you, I’m busy.”
“The hell you are.” He shakes his head. “Get your fucking shit and let’s go.” My eyes widen as I stare at him walking toward the door and holding it open. “I’m not asking you to do this for me.” He pauses for a beat before saying, “Do it for the kids.”
My chest heaves as I try to catch a breath, staring into his eyes and seeing the concern shining through them. Finally relenting, I nod solemnly, not able to say another thing as I follow him out of my office, my head stuck inside those memories; the good ones.
I lift my head as Nate comes to a stop, seeing my house and only now realizing that I’ve been stuck inside my head since I left my office.
“What are we doing here?” I ask, spotting several other cars in the driveway as I push out of his car and slam the door.
“Listen, Tris, we thought—”
“Tristan!”
My head whips around to the front door, seeing my mom standing there with a huge smile on her face. What the hell is going on here?
“Is that Daddy?” My muscles tense and my back straightens at the sound of Izzie’s voice; she should still be in school for another hour.
“Izzie?” I ask as I step forward, opening my arms for her as she runs at me.
“Nana came and gotted me and Clay from school and we’re having burgers.” She wriggles out of my arms and grabs my hand. “Come on, Daddy.”
I turn my head, first looking at Nate and then at my mom, seeing the knowing look in their eyes. They’ve been working together and set me up.
I tamp down the anger and let Izzie pull me through the house and out into the backyard. I scan the area, seeing that most of the stuff for a cookout is already set up on the table that Clay, Amelia, and Edward sit around.
“I need to go and get changed,” I tell Izzie, letting go of her hand. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
She nods her head at me before skipping over to Amelia and sitting next to her.
I take the opportunity to get away from it all and head back inside, walking toward Nate and Mom as they walk in the direction of the backyard, more anger rolling through me. “What do you two think you’re doing?”
“I…” Mom’s hand flies to her chest, her fingers tapping relentlessly before she turns to Nate for his help.
“I already told you.” He shrugs. “You need to get your shit together, and this is the first step.”
He takes Mom’s hand, pulling her toward the backyard and leaving me standing in the kitchen, watching them as they all laugh.
Who the hell do they think they are doing this? This is my home, my family, my kids. What gives them—
My eyes flit to the grill as the memory of Natalia and me standing in front of it assaults me, her swollen stomach sitting between us as she tells me Izzie is kicking her like a soccer ball again.
Natalia wouldn’t want this; she wouldn’t want all this anger to consume me the way it is right now. She’d want me to go upstairs and get changed, to have a fun afternoon with the family.
I sigh, bracing my hands on the kitchen counter before pushing off it and heading upstairs. I pull off the suffocating suit and change into a t-shirt and jeans—already feeling lighter—before walking downstairs and heading over to the grill, taking the spatula out of Edward’s hand and not saying a word to anyone as I concentrate on the burgers sitting in front of me.
I flip them over before lifting my head and smiling at the laughter coming from Clay and Izzie. I can’t remember the last time both of the kids ran around the garden, playing like they should. It’s been too long and I need to work on that; I need to make sure that they laugh more and act like kids.
I watch as Izzie tags Clay and runs off, hiding behind Nate and squealing as Clay gets closer to her.
“Help me, Uncle Nate!”
He leans down, picking her up and putting her on his shoulders before running in a huge circle as Clay chases after them both, trying his best not to let the laughter overtaking his body stop his fast pace.
My grin widens at the sight of them all and a foreign feeling of peace washes over me that I haven’t felt in so long.
It’s taken us over five years to get to this point and they’ve been five hard years, but things are going to change from now on. No more hiding away to save my own feelings.
The sound of the doorbell ringing brings me out of my thoughts and I put the spatula down as Amelia comes out of the kitchen, passing Mom a glass of white wine.
“I’ll get it,” I tell her as she starts to walk back into the house.
I walk through the kitchen and over the marble floors, pulling the front door open and coming face to face with a UPS man.
“Package for Amelia Rivers,” he murmurs.
I take the clipboard he holds out to me and sign my name, taking the box from him and closing the door.
“It’s for you,” I say when I’m back out on the terrace, handing Amelia the package. She takes it from me, her face screwing up as she stares down at it. “Everything okay, A?”
“Erm… yeah, sure.” She pastes a smile on her face and spins around, walking across the circle stones that are interspersed in the grass and over to the pool house.
I frown as I watch her walk inside and shut the door behind her, leaving me confused. She’s never secretive, but whatever is in that package has her acting strange.
Was Nate right? Have I been blind to the things going on around me?
“Dude,” Nate says, coming to stand beside me and taking my focus off Amelia.
I shake my head, going back to the burgers and flipping them over again. “Dude? Really, Nate?”
He shrugs. “Just because I’m in my thirties doesn’t mean I’m any less of an eighteen-year-old at heart.”
I grin at him, remembering the long hair he had right up until he started at the law firm. He was the definition of “hippie” in college and someone who I never thought I could be friends with. Up until I met him, all of my real friends lived on the other side of the tunnel, but he was like me. He had family money behind him yet he wasn’t afraid to be himself. I think that’s why we became so close, because we both knew the pressures of carrying our family names but also trying to fight to be yourself at the same time.
Lately, we’ve drifted apart, no longer the close friends that we used to be. I know it’s my fault, that I’ve pulled away from him because of what he reminds me of, but I don’t know how to get back to the place we were once at. I don’t know if we can ever be those two carefree people again.
I shake my head, dispelling my thoughts and plate the cooked burgers before carrying them to the table and telling Clay and Izzie to come and sit down to eat.
“So…” he starts when I’m back at the grill, looking all around him. “I need to tell you something that I probably should have said in your office.”
I raise a brow at the look on his face. “Okay.”
He shuffles on the spot, pulling his shirt away from his neck. “I… I shouldn’t have kept it from you but... I saw her.” He lifts his drink to his lips and takes a huge gulp. “She came to me for legal help and I panicked. I didn’t know it was her at first, not until she turned up. If I had known then I would have told you, hell, I know now that I should have told you right after she walked out of my office, but… damn… I didn’t think it was a good idea… and now… well...”
I grab the plate of ribs I was cooking and walk toward the table, placing them in the middle and taking a few steps back toward him out of earshot of the kids. I know that what he has to say will rile me up because nothing makes Nate tongue-tied like this. He’s a straight shooter, never worming his way around a point.
“I have no idea who you’re talking about, Nate. You’re gonna have to give me a name.”
He scrapes his hand through his hair, looking off to the pool house when Amelia exits. “Something’s up with her,” he states, clearly trying to change the conversation that he just started. I ignore him, not prepared to tell him that something felt off when I gave her the package and walk back toward the table.
“Sit by me, Amelia!” Izzie shouts, patting the seat next to her. “Why are your eyes like that?” she whispers to her when Amelia is sitting down next to her.
“Oh…” Amelia stammers. “I—I erm... Got something in my eye.”
“Daddy should check it, he always checks my hurts.”
I tilt my head, studying her as I sit opposite her and Izzie. “A?” I ask, knowing that she’s been crying from the redness of her eyes.
She looks up from the table, her eyes flitting to Nate briefly before she picks her fork up. “This looks delicious.”
I can see she’s uncomfortable and doesn’t want to talk about it, so I won’t push her, but I convey that I’m here by the look in my eyes. By the slight nod of her head, I see that she knows what I’m trying to say.
We all start eating, small chatter around the table and the atmosphere surprisingly light until Nate blurts out, “Harmony.” My head shoots up to his where he stands at the end of the table. My brows coming down low on my forehead. “That’s who I was talking about. When you mentioned Willow Arts earlier, I should’ve told you that she’d been to see me... she’s back.”
Everyone goes silent, not a word spoken as the air fizzles and cracks with tension. I know what they’re all thinking without even saying a word. They all know she’s back, but not one of them has spoken her name in front of me as of yet.
“Willow Arts? That’s where me and Clay go, Daddy!” Izzie says happily, none the wiser to the tension around the table.
“It is,” I reply, trying to keep the anger out of my voice before asking Nate, “How long ago?”
He looks away and whispers something before looking back at me, his eyes clashing with mine. “A couple of months back.”
“You mean to tell me,” I say, my voice deepening as I stand up. “That you’ve known she’s been back for months and didn’t think I should know?”
“Well… I…”
“Jesus, Nate. She’s their art teacher,” I announce, pointing to Clay and Izzie. “Had you told me when she first came back then I probably would have worked it out and not sent them there.” I lower my voice so only he can hear. “I don’t want them there anymore.”
There’s too much history, too much pain, not just between us, but in my past too.
“I’m sorry,” he sighs.
“Tristan,” Mom calls, but I ignore her, pushing my chair back fully so that I can move.
“I need to make a few calls.”
I practically run into the house and up to my office, darting for the bottom drawer in my desk where I keep it along with the envelope that has been sitting there for years, still unopened.
Pulling it out, I look at the old photograph of me and her, standing at the bottom of our tree. My arms are around her waist as she looks up at me, a smile on both of our faces as the sun sets in the background.
The same tree we used to have picnics at, the one where she would sit with her back against the trunk, drawing whatever was in front of her.
I could sit there for hours and watch as she got lost in her art, in the beauty of the colors that surrounded us. I can remember the way that her tongue would dart out and swipe along her bottom lip when she was concentrating; the way a v would form between her brows and the huge smile she’d have on her face when she would show me whatever she’d created with just a pencil and a piece of paper.
It’s also the same tree that I left my heart at when I walked away from her. The same tree that started all of this, that put all of the pain I’m feeling inside into motion.
I run my finger down her face on the photo, wishing it was her skin that I was touching before I throw it back into the drawer like it burned me.
I shouldn’t be looking at this, and I certainly shouldn’t be feeling this way. I need to hold onto the anger toward her, not let it fizzle out and have her consume my mind in a different way.
I can handle the anger, but not the pain.