Zelda
December 23rd
After my shift at Annabelle’s, I didn’t feel like taking the train back to Brooklyn. Instead I found a Starbucks, ordered a latte and a croissant, and called Darlene. She’d sent me a dozen apologetic texts I couldn’t answer while I was at work.
She picked up on the first ring. “Oh my God, Zel, I’m so sorry about yesterday. It was so tacky. I’m mortified.”
I smiled against the phone. “Don’t be. It’s not a big deal.”
“You’re too good to me,” Darlene said. “Is Becks mad?”
“No, he’s worried that Kyle might not be good for you.”
Darlene made an incomprehensible sound and then said, “Zelda, I’m telling you, I’ve never been happier. For real.”
“Really?” I picked at my croissant. “When did you meet this guy?”
“Oh my God, get this: he came into Giovanni’s for a blind date but she never showed. We got to talking and… I don’t know, we just clicked. He’s so nice, Zelda. Nicer than any guy I’ve ever been with.” Her voice dropped and quavered. “I’m actually a little scared.”
“You’re scared because you like him so much,” I said, and began tearing long strips of buttery crust off the pastry.
“Yeah, but I slept with him too soon. I promised myself I wouldn’t, but we can’t keep our hands off each other.”
“I noticed,” I said with a faint smile. My croissant was shredded, a pastry dissection gone bad. “That’s good though, Dar. I’m happy that you’re happy.”
“I’m more scared than happy. Or maybe I’m scared because I’m happy. I don’t want to fuck this up, Zel. But I also… I don’t know, I don’t want to hold back either. I’m just going for it, you know?”
No, I don’t know, I thought. I’m not as brave as you.
“He’d better be worthy of you,” I said.
“Of me?” she asked, her voice loud with incredulity.
“Yes,” I said. “If he hurts you I’ll kick his ass.”
“Zel, you’re the best. How are you? Am I going to see you before Christmas?”
The few sips of coffee I’d drunk churned in my gut.
“Probably not. I’m leaving tomorrow.” I shifted in my seat and hunched over my table. “Hey, Dar, if Beckett doesn’t visit Roy, would you check in on him?”
“I’ll do better than that,” Darlene said. “I can only take so much of my family, even on Christmas. After the morning festivities, a bunch of us will go out like we did last year.” I could hear her smile over her words. “I really want Becks to meet Kyle. I mean officially meet him. And like him. I really want them to like each other.”
“I’m sure they will,” I said.
“I hope so. Okay, I gotta run. Merry Christmas, Zel. Love you!”
“I love you too.”
I wandered SoHo to do some Christmas shopping. A music store lured me inside. It was mostly instruments, but one section along a back wall had a collection of vinyl. I perused, thinking it was hopeless I’d be able to find something Beckett might like out of so much music, until I hit the S section. Then a smile spread over my face and I plucked the album from the bin without glancing at the price.
Outside, back in the cold, my smile dimmed. I hadn’t yet packed for my trip to Philly. The thought made my skin tingle, like the air tightening right before lightning strikes. My train left at noon the next day, and the closer I got to that time, the more fractured and scattered I became. Out of the tangle of feelings I had for Beckett, one screamed louder than all others: I wanted him to come with me.
But he can’t. And he obviously feels like shit for it, so don’t go home a fucking mess and make him feel worse.
Thanks to a puny budget, I finished my shopping quickly and was dismayed to see it was only seven. I headed to the nearest movie theater so I could stuff my face with popcorn and stuff my eyes with someone else’s story. A story I forgot as soon as the credits rolled.
I headed out and walked around the stores of Times Square. I had an urge to go back to Rockefeller Center and see the tree, but the air was icy cold and threatened snow. Resigned, I headed for the subway and back to Brooklyn.
It was nearly eleven when I turned the key in the apartment door. Only the Christmas lights were on. Beckett was on the air mattress, buried under the blue comforter, even though it was my turn.
“Of course,” I whispered, smiling. Already my jumpy nerves were settling, just from walking into the same room as him. Maybe I’d sleep tonight, too.
But an hour later, I was still tossing and turning.
I threw off the covers, crept over to the desk and flipped on the lamp, trying to be as quiet as possible. I took up a pen and paper, hoping to lose myself in the work. But my work was my past. It was Rosemary and me and my terrible failure.
I can’t do this. I can’t go to Philly…
“Hey,” Beckett said softly.
I wiped my nose on my sleeve. “Hey, yourself,” I said, not looking at him. “Did I wake you?”
“No. Can’t sleep.”
“Me neither,” I said. “I was hoping to get some work done before I left but… It’s all tied up in these stupid drawings.”
“What is, Zel?”
“My family. Rosemary. All of this is for her. And for my mom…” The words poured out on a tide of shaky breaths. “Some days the work feels like punishment. Every time Kira kills someone, it’s not relief. It just ties her more tightly to her loss.”
Beckett’s hand slipped to the back of the chair as he bent over my shoulder. I watched his eyes scan over the sketches. “So where are we?”
I shuffled some paper to find what I was looking for. “Ryder and Kira have come back from the jump, to their own time. She’s pissed that he stopped her from killing her victim. The perv’s in jail, but it doesn’t feel like enough to her. She doesn’t think he should live, but… Deep down she knows she can’t go on like this. Not anymore.”
I glanced up at him, damn tears in my throat again.
“What happens next?” I whispered. “He said there was another way. What is it, Beckett? I can’t see it.”
“He tells her it’s killing her,” Beckett said softly. “That the guilt will eat her alive until there’s nothing left but hate.” He looked at me. “Or nothing at all. Not even hope.”
“How does he know?”
“Because he’s been there.” Beckett blinked and looked back to the pages of drawings. “He doesn’t want what happened to him to happen to her.”
“What happened to him? What’s his backstory?”
Beckett’s smile tightened. “Ryder killed an innocent man once. By accident. They sent him back but the data was wrong. The perv wasn’t a perv at all. Ryder became the criminal and he wishes like hell someone could go back in time and stop him.”
I drew in a breath to speak, but Beckett continued, his voice heavy.
“But they can’t, so he wants to help her. Ryder tells Kira that it wasn’t her fault,” he said, his eyes finding mine in the dimness again. “Nothing that happened was her fault. Not one second of it.”
“But she saw it happen,” I whispered. “She was there and she couldn’t stop it.”
His hand reached up to lay his palm against my cheek, his thumb softly sliding over my skin.
“And he tells her he’s so fucking sorry she has to carry that around with her for the rest of her life. He says he’d take it if he could.”
For the first time in years, tears were escaping my eyes, sliding down my cheek. They slipped in between his skin and mine.
“He’s taken enough,” I whispered brokenly. “More than he should.”
Beckett shook his head. “This isn’t his story.” He slowly let his hand slip from my face. “It’s hers. And she deserves some peace.”
I felt the knot of anxiety that was twisting me inside out begin to loosen. Enough so I felt like I could breathe a little after feeling suffocated for ten years.
Beckett started to move back to the air mattress.
“No,” I said, wiping my eyes on my sleeve. I shut off the desk lamp and got up from the chair. “You’re not sleeping on the floor. Not tonight.”
Without waiting for an argument, I took his hand and guided him to the bed. We crawled in together and pulled up the covers. I lay beside him then. Not touching, but I could feel the heat of his body.
“Goodnight,” I said.
He exhaled a long breath. “Fucking hell, Zelda…” Then he was pulling me toward him, wrapping his arms around me.
A sob rose to my throat but I choked it down, and held him tight. As tight as he held me, and wherever we touched became proof to one another that we were not alone.