Joshua

My brain won’t stop counting the days since Molly left Seattle. It hasn’t even been a week, and I’m continuously scrolling through all the ways I screwed up, all the things I took for granted. Every morning when I wake up alone, when I make coffee, when I go out to breakfast…

Why didn’t I memorize the scent of her hair? I don’t even know what perfume she wore. It was like peonies and rain, soft and flowery, and it’s quickly fading from her pillow. I hold it to my nose and inhale deeply, but I’m losing her. It twists in my gut.

This apartment is too fucking big without her. I go out, and when I come back, my eyes automatically search for her.

Before, she’d be here, her long hair twisted in a cute little bun on top of her head, working at her computer. How was I supposed to know she was tracking down her targets, the men who had victimized her?

How was I to know when I told her to stop, she’d walk out that door?

My phone rings, and I snatch it up, answering on the first ring. It’s my dad on the line, and he sounds better than he has in weeks. I’m happy and miserable at the same time.

“Josh! When are you planning to get yourself up here with those papers?”

“Sorry, I’ve been tied up closing on the house and settling the final paperwork with the title company and closing out the house we’ve been leasing—”

“I know you’ve been busy.” he laughs. “I’ve got steaks, and it’s supposed to be a perfect sunset this evening. No rain, mid-seventies. Come up here, and we can have dinner together.”

“Are you allowed to eat steak already?” I don’t know much about heart attacks, but I remember that movie where Jack Nicholson had a heart attack, and he couldn’t eat steak.

“No!” He bellows through the phone. “I’m eating like a squirrel. I eat the food my food eats, but I can watch you enjoy a good meal.”

I laugh at him quoting one of our favorite television shows. “Okay, I’ll be there at seven.”

We disconnect, and I go to that damn closet that started the whole thing. Pulling the doors open, I don’t dig this time. I grab the side of a large, cardboard box and slide it out. A blanket spills behind it, but I don’t bother retrieving it.

I’m almost gun-shy digging in here, considering what it cost me last time. I find the heavy, fireproof box where I keep the important papers my parents are always riding me about. Inside are several hanging folders. My passport is in one of them, my birth certificate and social security cards, insurance policy… Finally I find the folder Dad’s lawyer gave me after Mom died. I never even looked at it.

When all that shit went down, I was so messed up, I didn’t even want to think about the idea of Dad’s estate coming to me. I didn’t want to look at these papers and think about what they meant. I couldn’t give a shit about this list of assets I would get when I was left all alone. I shoved it all in this box and never thought about it again.

Now he’s forcing me to look at it, and I’m fucking alone again.

With a sigh, I set the folder on the table. I told Rebecca I’d stop by the new house today to sign off on the utilities. I’ll return here after and take this with me before I head to his estate in Madison Park.

Scooping up my phone, I take off, locking up before I dash down the stairs and out to the street. The new house is ten blocks from my apartment. When Peggy showed it to me, it was one of the things I liked most. I had imagined Molly and me being able to walk over easily if there was ever a problem. Or we could easily hop over on the weekend, check on things, then go to breakfast together or something along those lines.

Walking there without her, to the house she inspired me to buy, twists the knife even deeper in my chest.

“Joshua!” Brittanie meets me at the door, and I follow her up the narrow staircase leading from the double garage to the main level.

The house is built into the side of a hill, and it has an amazing view from the balcony over the park and out to the lake. Boxes are everywhere, but they’ve already installed a huge flat screen television over the fireplace. It’s blasting some reality show with a bunch of women drinking wine, and Candi passes through with her rainbow hair on top of her head.

“Hey, Josh! You alone? Where’s Little Miss Sunshine?” Sarcasm drips from her tone, and I remember my phone chat with Molly yesterday.

“Molly had to go to New Orleans.” The last thing I feel like is discussing what’s happening between us. “Where’s Rebecca?”

Candi stops and gives me the eye. “Why is Molly in New Orleans without you?”

I go to the kitchen where several papers are spread out on the table. “Her sister lives there. You know that. We went for her wedding last year.”

She stands a moment longer in the living room, studying me. I think the main reason Candi and Molly always butt heads is because they’re both too smart for the hand life dealt them.

Finally, she gives up and continues to her room. “Rebecca had to run to the store. She’ll be back in a minute.”

The stuff on the table needs my signature and I see notes indicating the amount of deposits to have the water and electricity transferred into my name. I collect them and plan to call and give those guys my billing information.

“I really like my room,” Brittanie says, joining me in the kitchen where I’m flipping through the pages and signing quickly.

I consider getting Rebecca her own bankcard. I should probably set up and fund a separate account for the house so she can buy groceries and shit. Maybe put a spending limit on the card? This is all new to me.

“What’s that?” I look up at the young girl. She’s small and shy, and she’s always reminded me of one of those squirrels in the park. She’ll venture out, but if I make a wrong move, she retreats again just as fast.

“My room? I’m the only one without a roommate, but Rebecca said it’s because I study so late. The lamplight bothers Candi at night.”

“Don’t get used to it,” I tease. “I’m hoping we can get six girls in here.”

She puts her hand on her hip and cocks it to the side. “You’re a really good guy, you know that Joshua Andrews?”

My chest tightens, because the last thing I’ve been feeling lately is good. “Not really. Molly showed me a way I could help you guys, and I’ve got the money to do it.”

“Molly’s good, too.” She sets her box on the table. “She used to talk to me a lot about my past, ask me questions about where I lived before, my life on the street. I could tell she really cared.”

“She did?” A frown pierces my brow. I think about what Molly said, how talking to these girls made her angrier because of how the system failed them.

“Yeah, especially when I first got here. We used to talk all the time.”

I follow her into the living room, and the television has gone from reality silliness to the early evening news… more reality silliness, I think.

But my attention is caught by the name on the screen. The talking head is describing an ongoing police investigation.

“Still no suspects and no leads in the murder of Dennis Langley.” A picture appears on the screen beside the anchor’s head, and Brittanie gasps. She steps back so fast, she bumps smack into my chest.

“What is it?” I catch her upper arms. I recognize the name, but it never occurred to me…

“Um…” She looks around and quickly steps out of my hands. “I’m sorry. I have to go put my stuff away. I’ve gotta go.”

The news anchor continues saying how Langley had a long history of criminal involvement, ranging from drug trafficking to sexual misconduct, and how police are considering the possibility of organized crime at work in the metropolitan area.

My stomach is tight as I listen. I know what happened to Dennis Langley, who did it, and why. The number for a tip line appears on the screen, and a sharp pain shoots through my temple. I’ve never been in a situation like this, but I know with cold certainty I’ll be damned if I ever tell what I know.

Talk about the system failing. What would happen if Molly were revealed to be Dennis Langley’s killer? Would she be prosecuted? Would she go to jail? How could she not?

The story ends, and I drop to the couch. I’m in love with a killer, and nothing I can do will change it. I’m also not afraid. I’ll do anything I can to protect her.

Dad has the grill going out on the back patio when I arrive. I park on the street and jog up to the giant home where I grew up. He never left after Mom died. He never even redecorated. Pushing through the door, I see the same pictures in frames, the same flowers in baskets. A cleaning service comes once a week, so it’s polished, vacuumed, and dusted. Still, he’s the resident mole-person, the king of this castle he never leaves, as if leaving will somehow change what happened.

As if he waits long enough, she might still come back.

He slides the glass door open and meets me in the dining room. “Joshua! Good to see you outside a hospital room.”

Strong arms go around me in a hug. Dad’s smaller than I am now, and I can see the tired lines around his eyes. But those eyes are full of life. It eases the pressure in my chest.

“Show me what you’ve got.”

I place the folder on the table and for the first time, break the packing tape over the flap.

“You never even opened it?” He gives me an incredulous look, but I just shake my head.

“I don’t care about this stuff, Dad. I just want you to be here.”

“I know, son.” He grips my shoulder. “But this is my life’s work. I need to know it’s in good hands, so it doesn’t just… stop.”

Part of me understands this. I appreciate the feeling of finality that came when we buried Mom. I remember staring at her name carved in stone and wondering why we do anything, what’s the point of it all.

From what I could tell, it seemed my father’s response to the situation was to dig even deeper, work even harder to leave some legacy behind. I simply wanted to cram as much living into my life as possible.

He spreads the papers on the table and carefully scans each page. “I remember putting this together like it was yesterday. I wanted to be sure you were taken care of with as little trouble as possible.”

“You set up a trust.” That much I do know. “Tom said if anything happened, it would pretty much take care of itself.”

“Still, you have to make it happen.”

Finally, he seems satisfied and slides the stack of paperwork together again. “You need to look over this and be sure nothing has been left out.”

“I’m sure you guys were very thorough.” Orange flames outside on the patio catch my eye. “I think the grill’s ready.”

He pats my shoulder again and smiles. “Come outside with me. It’s a great evening.”

I’m pleased by this new “life is good” attitude. It’s a dramatic shift from before, and I consider if anything good comes from his health scare, maybe he’ll come outside again.

The house is covered in plants and greenery, but the landscaping is small rocks and stone boxes containing shiny-leafed plants and palms. For a climate as wet as Seattle, it’s the closest they could get to desert.

“Nothing like old-fashioned charcoal,” Dad says, lifting the iron lid off the grill. He places two steaks over the flames and then closes it again. “That’s premium, grass-fed buffalo all the way from Montana.”

“You’re cooking two steaks?” I shove my hands in the pockets of my jeans and pause beside where he’s watching them cook.

“One for you to take home with you. I know you don’t eat right.”

“I don’t know where you got that idea.”

“Dean says you eat like a middle schooler.”

“Dean eats like a fashion model.” I pass dad and walk out into the backyard. “I mean that in the worst way possible.”

“You think his eating disorder is back?”

Shit, I didn’t mean to upset Dad. “No, no. I’m sorry. I just meant he’s always on a cleanse of some sort… coffee enema.”

“Don’t be gross.”

Shaking my head, I walk out into the backyard. The grass is green, and it stretches wide, all the way to the lake, where huge boulders form a wall against the water. Dad has an enviable, 360-degree view of the lake and mountains. It’s a beautiful place… and I’d have had to move if I were him. I’m already thinking if Molly doesn’t come back, I’ll have to sell my apartment and get something different. Her ghost is everywhere.

I study the pale beige stucco walls around our family home, the terra-cotta Spanish tiles on the roof. My parents didn’t build the house, but they were always proud of their achievement, finding this place before real estate prices exploded.

It’s twilight, and the sky is lined with partial clouds. Their bellies are streaked with simmering red, salmon pink, and on top, they’re soft purple. It’s a beautiful night, and as I watch, the solar-powered lanterns around the house automatically begin to switch on.

Dad flips the switch, and the patio floods with yellow light. Then he waves to me. “Steaks are ready, come inside and cork the wine.”

We sit out under the growing dusk at the stone patio table. Dad lights candles in hurricane jars, red, orange, and yellow.

“What do you think?” he says, sitting back and watching me.

“Nice,” I say, pouring the Malbec into large globes.

He lifts the glass and holds it to me. “To family.”

Nodding, I clink. “I couldn’t agree more. To you being home and happy.”

His expression tenses as I take a sip. “That’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Sitting straighter in my chair, I swallow back the fear. I should have known him inviting me here, insisting I bring all this paperwork… panic climbs the back of my neck as I brace for him to tell me the worst.

“What is it?” I manage to ask.

“How would you feel…” He clears his throat and shifts in his chair again, looking at the table then up to me again, nervously. “How would you feel if I started to date?”

“Jesus!” Air explodes from my lungs, and Dad is immediately backpedaling.

“I’m sorry… If it’s too much for you or if you think I’m too old—”

“Dad! No.” I hold out my hand and lean forward to rub my forehead. “You scared the shit out of me the way you set that up. I’m fine with you dating. I actually think that would be a good thing.”

“You do?” He looks so relieved, I almost suggest we go inside and check his heart rate. We could check mine while we’re at it.

“Yeah, I do. I’ve always worried about you being up here alone, living like a hermit. That can’t be healthy.”

He takes a deep breath and leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m not making any promises. I’m not as young as I used to be. I don’t even know how to date anymore.”

“It’s not as hard as you think.” I take a sip of the full-bodied wine. It has a dark fruit flavor and a smoky finish. “Good Malbec.”

He nods. “I did a little research on the best varietal to go with the steaks.”

“See? Women love shit like that.” I take my knife and cut into the medium-rare steak on my plate. “You’re a great cook, and you’re loaded.”

He nods, pushing his fork through the dark green salad he’s having. “That’s the only thing that worries me. I don’t want to find someone who’s only interested in money.”

I groan as the explosion of rich, tangy meat fills my mouth. “This is good.” Finishing, I nod, getting back to what he said. “Dean and I can help you. He uses those dating apps. Is that something you want to try?”

He takes another sip of wine and rips off a piece of ciabatta bread. “I don’t know. I’m starting to feel like this is a ridiculous idea.” A deep sigh. “Just… being in the hospital, talking to Najah…”

“Ahh, I get it.” I give him a teasing wink. “You just needed a sexy nurse to get your motor running.”

He chuckles. “There’s so much carbon on this old engine…”

Leaning forward, I catch his hand and give it a squeeze. “Hey, you can do this. I think it’s a great idea. Don’t psych yourself out.”

He nods and leans back, and for a little while we have a comfortable silence. The candles cast a calming glow over the table, and frogs start up, making their unique sounds in the night.

“Speaking of ladies, where’s your girl? Molly, is it? I’d hoped to meet her now that I’m out of the hospital. I thought you might bring her with you tonight.”

“She’s in New Orleans.” It’s as much as I want to tell anyone at this point.

“Right, she has family there… you went to a wedding there with her?”

Nodding, I place my utensils on the table, not really hungry anymore. I lift the wine bottle and refill my glass, giving Dad a little top-off.

I can feel Dad watching me, but I hope he doesn’t press for more details. To my relief he doesn’t. He only takes another bite of kale.

Still, my situation is heavy on my mind. It’s been growing heavier with each passing day, and the news story about Dennis made it all too real for me. It’s hard to be here, knowing she’s so far away, putting herself in danger.

At the same time, she walked out on me.

“Hey, Dad?” Inquisitive blue eyes meet mine. My chest is tight, and I’m choosing my words carefully. “What would you have done if Mom were doing something… if she’d had a project or a hobby…” That’s not right. “What would you have done if Mom were involved in something that could hurt her?”

His brow lines with concentration, and he thinks about it. I’ve always appreciated the way he takes every question seriously. It’s why he’s so successful in his work. Every problem is analyzed before he answers.

“I’d stop her.”

His answer is so simple it pulls me up short. “What if she wouldn’t let you?”

“I guess I’d have to convince her to let me.”

“But how?”

He takes a deep breath and swirls the wine in his glass. “Showing someone how much you care is always a good place to start. Other than that, sometimes you just have to pull people away from the cliff.”

“Wouldn’t you be worried you might lose her? For not respecting her wishes?”

“Sounds like you might lose her anyway. What’s the risk?”

My eyes go to my fist on the table, and I nod slowly. “Would you mind if I borrow your jet for a few days?”

He gives me a grin. “It’s going to be yours anyway.”