Page 96 of Deserter

He shook his head with a low growl. “Nah, she was saving herself for marriage and I never saw myself as the settling down type.

“I joined up with Wolverine and forgot all about her until she showed up to the gathering with that piece of shit she married. All those feelings I thought were dead came flooding back and I knew I was fucked.”

“Why didn’t you kill my old man and claim her as yours?”

Angel studied me. “Why didn’t you kill Comedian and claim Mikey as yours? Yeah, I fuckin’ know about that. You of all people should know that life ain’t ever that simple.”

“The baby—”

“Mine. When your ma called and told me, I made plans to get the two of you out of town.” One look at him and I knew he was reliving it. His jaw tightened and he forced himself to continue.

“I was too late. Apparently, Don couldn’t keep his goddamn hands off of her for even one night. Do you know how hard it was to look at the woman I loved and lie to her? To tell her she was going to be okay?”

I plucked the joint from his hand and inhaled deeply, chasing after a high to avoid confronting my own demons. “Why’d you do it, Angel? Why’d you let yourself love her? It would’ve been so much easier to stay away—”

Angel raked his fingers down his face. “Why’d I let myself? What makes you think I had any fuckin’ say in the matter? She was it—knew it the minute I saw her again.” He stood up, gnawing at his thumbnail while he paced.

Unable to relax, I joined him. “Even knowing how it ended? You’re telling me that you’d still do it?”

“If it meant I got to hold her in my arms, I’d do it in a fuckin’ heartbeat. Now, you gonna tell me why you’re really here? Cause I think it has shit to do with your ma.”

“Wolverine thinks I’m in love with her.” I swallowed. “Fuckin’ crazy, right?”

The look he gave me would’ve killed a lesser man. “Yeah,” he said sarcastically. “Really fuckin’ crazy.”

“I ain’t you. She wasn’t my neighbor… she was a debt. And all I’ve done is fuck up her life. You tell me where that works out like a fairy tale.”

He smiled. “You came here wanting to me tell you that love was bullshit, right?” I nodded. “Well, all I’ve heard is how you don’t feel like you deserve her. If that ain’t love, son, then I don’t know what is. What are you afraid of?”

“Losing her,” I admitted quietly. “I couldn’t survive it and frankly, I don’t know how the fuck you have.”

Angel nodded. “Look at me. I ain’t fuckin’ living; not really. But there are times when you say something, or you smile a certain way and you look just like her. And to me, that’s worth stickin’ around for.”

* * *

The sky was streaked with red and pink by the time I made it back home. I worked to construct an argument for why I’d been gone for so long as I walked into the house on legs that didn’t feel like mine anymore.

The door to the nursery fell open under my hand and I was immediately hit with a pressing need to commit the moment to my mind; like I was on borrowed time.

Kate’s bonnet lay discarded on the floor and the last rays of afternoon sun streamed in through the cracks in the blinds. Celia sat, slumped over in the armchair, fast asleep with a copy of Sylvia Plath’sSelected Poemsopen on her lap.

Kate had managed to snag some of her mama’s hair in her fist and was tugging happily on it with small gurgles.

I knelt beside them and ran my hands reverently over my daughter’s dark hair. She was the spitting image of Celia, but every time I studied her face, I looked for traces of myself.

Mikey had my eyes, but Kate’s were green, just like her mama’s. Maybe it was fitting that nothing of me took; a sign that she’d never end up like her old man.

She kept her grip on Celia’s hair, but snagged one of my fingers in her other fist; earnestly dragging it down toward her mouth with soft grunts.

“Hey,” Celia said, reaching up to rub at her eyes. “I must’ve fallen asleep while she was nursing. What time is it?”

“Just after five.”

She stifled a yawn. “You want dinner? I’ve got some chicken breasts in the fridge—”

“You wish that you would’ve done something else with your life—something that would’ve made your parents proud?”

Her mouth snapped shut and she looked away as she fastened the buttons on her dress. “I—I’m not sure what you’re asking.”

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