Fifty-Three

Tears tumbled through Mark’s dark eyelashes as he looked down at the Central Park bench. “My brother died from his injuries six hours later…on New Year’s Eve.”

Alex sat still, frozen in shock. She couldn’t imagine Mark’s grief or how he had bottled it up for so long—what does something like that do to a person? She felt her resolve, her determination to keep him at arm’s length and out of her heart, melt.

Her tears made him all blurry. “Oh, God! Mark…” She threw her arms around his shoulders, pulling him in. His body shook against hers, lost in unrelenting sobs. She tightened her embrace, desperate to give him the privacy and sympathy he deserved. He hid his face in the nook of her neck. “It’s okay. It’s okay. God, I’m so sorry.”

She cradled the back of his head and slowly rubbed his back, wishing more than anything that she could take away his pain. They hugged for several minutes with only their tears speaking for them.

Mark pulled away slightly, wiping his nose. Her hand lingered on his arm, hesitant to release him entirely.

“I blamed myself. Kieran wouldn’t have wandered away …wouldn’t have died if I had just done what Dad asked—“Look after your brother.” But no, I had to show off to that stupid kid. Mum told me over and over, it wasn’t my fault. Dad said so, too, but only once—at Kieran’s funeral. I remember like it was yesterday. He kneeled down, pulled me close, and whispered to me, “None of this is your fault, lad. None of it.” But I couldn’t see his face during the hug, Lex. How could I believe him if I couldn’t see his face?”

Tears swelled in Alex’s eyes, imagining eight-year-old Mark, desperate for absolution, for the love of his father to erase the horror and guilt tormenting his young mind. She squeezed his arm and reached in her bag for tissues for both of them. “I’m sure your dad meant it, Mark. It wasn’t your fault. You were just a little boy…”

He gently shook his head and accepted a tissue. “Our family fractured, trying to cope. I felt detached from everyone, lost in my own bubble of guilt. Mum would go overboard with hugs, asking if I was all right every ten minutes. I always said yes, so she wouldn’t worry. I had flashbacks…nightmares. I regularly mitched off school with stomach upsets. Gracie wouldn’t eat and locked herself away in her room, refusing to play or see her friends, but it was always worse at night, when I’d hear Mum sobbing through the wall. Dad became a shell of his old self…didn’t sing anymore. Late on weekends when he thought everyone was asleep, he would drink himself into a stupor in front of the telly. All the while, I knew it was my fault. He wouldn’t have been sobbing if…if I had just watched Kieran.”

He wiped the back of his hand across his cheeks as more tears fell, quickly sweeping them away. “Mum decided she couldn’t bear to live in the pub anymore. They argued about it for months until we moved to our house. We tried to rebuild our lives, but couldn’t catch a break. The jerk who bought the pub for less than it was worth leveled it and built a block of flats. I know Dad was gutted. Mum got diagnosed with lupus in 2004 and couldn’t continue her job mending clothes at the Delaney’s dry cleaners…” He leaned his head back, blinked a bunch of times, and inhaled a shuddering breath.

Silent tears rolled down Alex’s cheeks.

“Dad died two months later…I was twelve.” Mark bit his lip, trying unsuccessfully to stifle his emotions. “I overheard Mum telling Mrs. Delaney once…she said it wasn’t a heart attack that took his life, it was a broken heart from losing Kieran.”

Alex grasped his hand. “Your poor family. I can’t even begin to imagine…” She sniffed back her own tears, but it was no use. They raced down her warm cheeks and fell, seeping into her blouse.

Mark gathered a slow breath. “I don’t know how Mum carried on after that. I really don’t. She thought about taking us to London for the holiday Dad had planned but couldn’t face it without him. Mrs. Delaney pitched in: making us meals, cleaning our house. She rehired Mum, giving her the full-time cashier position. That job was a godsend.” He dried his eyes with a tissue. “Me, though…I was the opposite of helpful. I went right off the rails, drinking, hanging with a bad crowd. I was letting my whole family down, until our Gracie beat some sense into me one day.”

Alex grinned through her tears. “Sounds like her. You’re lucky to have her, Mark.”

A faint smile curled his lips. “Yeah, I am, and Mum. She sat me down that night, and I thought, I’m in for it now. But she didn’t yell—she hugged me, and cried. We both did. I hadn’t cried since the day she told us Dad had died.”

Alex could imagine Niamh: loving, but firm, trying to put herself in Mark’s shoes, to understand his torment. “You have such a great mum.”

“Yeah. She wasn’t a pushover, though. I knew some kind of punishment was coming. Pulling me out of football seemed the obvious choice, but she put me in afterschool drama classes.”

“Like you said in your email…”

He nodded. “Mum thought drama would help me. At the time, I didn’t get it. I thought drama class was just goofing around, but it meant a lot to Mum, so I wanted to really give it a go, for her…”

“And did you take to it, right away?” Alex smiled.

“Ahh, Lex, I loved it. I loved being part of a group, a team really, creating something together. I loved playing with accents, getting lost in my imagination—being someone else for a while. Drama became my escape. Plus, I was good at it. People I didn’t know clapped and cheered. I couldn’t get enough. When I was up on that stage, I wasn’t that sad little kid anymore, the one who let his family down, the boy everyone felt sorry for—losing his brother and dad. I knew it made Mum happy, seeing me throw my heart into something…positive.”

As the tears faded from Mark’s eyes, Alex spotted something else: determination. She squeezed his hand. He reciprocated by rubbing hers gently with his thumb.

“I’m still that twelve-year-old kid in a lot of ways. I think a part of me will always feel guilty, but the psychologist helped me see that Kieran’s death was just a tragic accident—it wasn’t my fault. And Dad…he was proud of me…I didn’t let him down. I’d like to think he would be proud of me now, too, you know?”

“Mark, he would be. He is.”

“I hope so. I figured speaking to the psychologist might get my stress and ulcer under control, but I had no idea he would make me relive my childhood. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, Lex.”

“You’re strong—stronger than you think. I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder of you.”

Mark smiled. “Thanks. I always thought I was working non-stop for noble reasons: to make sure Mum was looked after, to lay a foundation for my life with you…but my therapist blew that theory out of the water.”

Alex blinked rapidly. “I don’t understand…”

“My guilt about Kieran and Dad’s deaths was feeding my need to work non-stop. He said I’ve been using the adulation from fans and audiences as a sort of Band-Aid, to feel better about myself and soothe my guilt over losing them. His words bowled me over. They also made me think about when I gave Mum her new house.”

“Really…why?”

“That initial happy feeling…being able to do something so BIG for Mum? I think part of me hoped it might dissolve my guilt for good, but it didn’t. On some level, I needed another hit of ‘Well done, son!’ My therapist said that’s why I didn’t even consider saying no to anything Wink was putting in front of me. I desperately needed the praise that new projects, new press might get me. I’m basically a praise junkie, chasing jobs non-stop to feel better about myself. The bigger the project, the bigger the audience; the bigger the audience, the more approval; the more approval, the easier it is for me to bury my guilt—for a while, anyway…”

Alex sat wide-eyed. “God, Mark…he’s good.”

He nodded. “I’m not trying to make excuses or place the blame on my sub-conscious, but all those weeks spent away from home, looking for approval…” He hesitated, avoiding her eyes. “It was at the expense of what really mattered, the people I cared about, especially you, Lex.” He looked up to meet her eyes.

A breath caught in her throat.

“So…” He squeezed her hand. “There you have it: Mark Keegan is damaged goods—but you have to name the problem to make it better, right?” A sheepish grin flashed across his face. “And I am making it better. That’s why I fired Wink and Chelsey, why I dropped out of Throttle. That’s why I’m continuing with counselling—to find healthy ways to deal with my guilt and grief. It’s also why I’m here…to come clean, and to apologize, and to thank you. You saw me pushing myself too hard. You tried to save me—”

“I was worried you’d work yourself to death. I just wanted a balanced life for us.”

“But I wouldn’t listen, would I? I was an arse, making you feel like you were being difficult. I am so so sorry. I was wrong, not you, and I know what I have to do now—what I want to do, and it’s not working twenty-hour days or a budget-bloated action film with a shite script. I want my privacy back. I want a balance between work and my personal life. From now on, I’m taking time off—weeks, not days—between projects. I’ll continue with Lairds for as long as they’ll have me, and supplement that with what I love.”

The old Mark, the one Alex had met in the Royal Court lobby…he wasn’t gone. He was here. Adorable, caring…honest Mark. A smile overtook her freckles. “Theatre, maybe? Like Constellations?”

“Yeah, like Constellations.” Mark smiled back. “I did that one for you, Lex.”

“I heard…” She tossed her bangs out of her eyes. “I saw it, you know.”

“I know.”

“Freddie?”

Mark chuckled. “Yeah.”

She glanced at her hand, happily held in his. “I kinda stumbled upon it one day.”

“I planned to tell you about it on our anniversary. When that didn’t happen, I almost told you when you were breaking up with me, but it was already…too late.”

Mark shoved up the brim of his ball cap, exposing his eyebrows. Alex realized just how much she had missed them. She nodded, pensively. “You made me cry—I mean, your portrayal of Roland made me cry. You were him.”

Mark smiled.

Alex looked away. “Did Fallon know…about Kieran?”

He shook his head. “I never told her about letting him out of my sight, no. Nobody knows, outside of my family. As far as the final police reports were concerned, Dad left two kids unattended for a few moments and tragedy struck.”

Sitting in silence, their eyes met.

“Fallon never really knew me…not like you did, Lex.”

And no one knows me like you do, Mark. Alex grinned softly into the passing breeze.

Mark let go of her hand and shifted. His knee collided with hers, but instead of moving it away, he kept it there. “I’m sorry it took me so long to introduce you to Mum.”

“It’s okay.” She reached over, squeezing his hand. “I think I understand now…”

“No.” He shook his head, rubbing his thumb over hers. “I felt terrible, keeping you apart. Mum’s birthday seemed like the perfect opportunity to right a wrong, and the focus would be on the posh new bungalow. Everyone would be happy. I made Mum and Gracie swear not to say anything about Kieran, though. I still wasn’t ready to tell you what happened…I was still too ashamed, I think. Part of me hated…erasing him from the day, but I did it anyway—for self-preservation.”

“Then, I spotted his name—”

“Yeah. I didn’t think. You were so upset about the key. I had to show it to you, so you would stop blaming yourself, but then you flipped the keychain over. I swear my heart stopped. I panicked—lied. I’m so sorry. I should have been honest that day. I hate myself for lying to you about…everything.”

Alex exhaled slowly, staring at the light bouncing off the pond. “I can’t judge you, Mark, not after what you’ve been through. I mean, I wish you’d felt like you could trust me with this when we were together. I wish you’d just told me and hadn’t thought I would judge you, but I understand why you didn’t. I’m glad you felt ready to tell me, even if it’s later rather than sooner…” She looked into his eyes. “…but why now?”

“August 17^th” He gazed up into the cloudless sky. “Today would have been Kieran’s twenty-first birthday.”

Speechless, she laid a hand over her heart.

“I owed you the truth, and I owed it to Kieran, too…in a way. I know we can’t go back in time, but I wish to God I could. If I had your beloved TARDIS, just for the day, I’d put the broken pieces back together again. I’d save everyone, save you and me, then be back in time for Kieran’s birthday bash tonight…”

He smiled, but the grin didn’t linger. “I did the next best thing. Woke up this morning and caught the first flight out of Dublin. I can’t bring Kieran back, but I can make amends with you. I’m so sorry for lying, for always putting work first, for listening to fucking Wink…I’m sorry for everything, Lex. Wink may have had his own agenda, but I’m the one who allowed all of that to happen. I allowed you to get hurt, and I’m truly sorry. I know it’s…” He took a long, deep breath, releasing her hand. “…too late for us, but there’s never an expiry date on honesty, is there?”

Wait…too late…for us? Alex completely missed the rest of Mark’s sentence. Her stomach clenched in sickly waves—Mark had buried the lede. He really was here just to tell her about Kieran and make nice, nothing more, mending the past so he could move forward like Niamh said. Did I misread his body language, his intentions…?

“Lex?” Mark leaned in. “You disappeared there for a sec. What are you thinking?”

“Sorry…”

“It’s never too late to be honest, right?”

“No, you’re right…” She lowered her head and fiddled with her skirt. “I’m glad you told me, Mark. I’m really glad you’re working through this.”

“One step at a time. I know it’s a cliché, but it works…right?” Mark’s kind expression told her that he knew.

“Freddie told you?” she asked.

He nodded. “You weren’t posting on social media. I hope you don’t mind that I asked him how you were. I felt glad…relieved you were having fewer attacks. I’m so proud of you for getting help.”

“Thanks.” A soft smile reached her eyes. “I’m glad you didn’t cheat on me in Dublin, by the way…”

Mark squinted at the pond. “That’s one night I’ll probably never forgive myself for. New Year’s Eve is always a difficult day, but getting wrecked, hitting the booze and drugs to forget about everything that happened…that’s no answer.” Mark bowed his head. “I’ll never allow myself to fall that low again.” He pulled out his phone. “…Wanna see pictures of Kieran?”

“I’d love to,” she smiled.

Mark scrolled through his phone revealing a giggly infant, toothless with chipmunk cheeks and Michelin Man arms…

This photo? Alex remembered it from the family pictures on the wall at Niamh’s old house… Her eyes widened. “I thought that was you!”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “We looked identical at that age.” He swiped the screen. “And this one, three years later, still my mini-me.” A photo of two little boys in pajamas, surrounded by toy cars, football boots, and wrapping paper, grinned back at her. “This was Christmas just days before…” Mark sighed. “if only…”

With a sympathetic nod, she held his gaze and then looked at the pond.

They sat in silence. A refreshing breeze blowing along the path swept Alex’s bangs into her eyes, and Mark reached over and brushed them aside. His fingers lingered in her hair and slipped down the side of her face. The searing New York heat was no competition for Mark’s touch. Goose bumps prickled her arms and the back of her neck.

Alex swallowed twice to ground herself. Maybe I didn’t misread his body language? She smiled softly. “When are you headed back?”

“Tomorrow morning.” His hand returned to his lap.

Damn. Her heart pinched. “What are you doing now?”

“Might take a wander, look around the park, go see the penguins…” He flashed a half-smile. “Then, check into an airport hotel for the night.”

A wander on his own…a cheap hotel? Alex shook her head. If Mark had only ten or twelve hours here, he would spend them with her.

“No. Come to mine. Have a shower, a bite to eat. I’ll make up the spare room for you.”

“Lex, I really don’t want to impose…”

“You’re not. Besides, you look like crap.” Alex smiled and grabbed her bag.