Page 29 of Ebbing Tides
“Everything happens for a reason,” Melanie replied, as if reading my mind. “Even the worst things.”
I hated to think that. Couldn't stand the thought that, if Laura hadn't died, I wouldn't be here, with this woman. The woman I had mentioned once to my wife but couldn't name and only because I wanted to keep her—Melanie—and her memory to myself. It was my secret, one I'd planned to take to my grave, long before Laura went to hers, but here I was. And if there was a heaven and Laura could see me now, what the hell was she thinking? What the hell did she think ofme?
“You know what I could go for?” Melanie asked, effectively putting a stop to thoughts I'd rather not think at all. Not right now.
“What's that?”
I turned my gaze back to hers to find an expression on her face that mirrored everything running through my mind. Almost as though she were thinking the same thing or something similar—and, hell, for all I knew, she was. We were, after all, two passengers in the same sinking ship, weren't we? And maybe that, at the end of the day, really was the reason for it all. For us to not be alone, and maybe, if we were lucky, we could find a lifeboat together.
“I think I'd really like that decent Guinness stew,” she said, looking up with the smallest of smiles tugging at her downturned lips.
And you know what? So would I.
***
We sat toward the back of the pub at a small high-top table built for two, and a girl of maybe twenty-one or twenty-two took our drink order. Melanie asked for a beer, and then I ordered a Coke. As the girl walked away, my thoughts went to the corner of my mind where I kept Lizzie and Jane. They would be close to the waitress's age, a couple of years younger.
It had been so long since I'd seen them; I wondered if I'd recognize them now if I did. What if Lizzie was a cashier who'd rung me up or Jane was a barista at the coffee shop I stopped at occasionally on the way to Dad's? Would I know it? Wouldthey know me … and if they did, would they care enough to say something?
They hate me. Their mother would be here if it wasn't for me.
“Oh my God, I'm so sorry. Do you want me to … I didn't even think … do you want me to order something else?”
I turned to face Melanie, focusing my attention again on her. “Sorry, what was that?”
Her cheeks were flushed—I had forgotten how easy it was to make her blush—and she tipped her head in the direction of the bar.
“Do you want me to order another drink? You mentioned you had a problem with alcohol, so I wasn't sure if you'd prefer that I didn't drink.”
“Oh,” I said, the word rushing out with an exhale. I shook my head. “No, it's okay. It doesn't bother me when other people drink around me.”
She nodded, her shoulders relaxing. “Okay. I'm sorry. I can't believe I didn't even think about that. My husband … I told you he was an alcoholic, and he was like that. Nobody could have a drink around him without the temptation getting the better of him.”
I nodded. It was a common issue many addicts struggled with, no matter their poison. I'd never had that issue though. Some people in my life had chosen not to drink in my presence—out of respect, I guessed. Laura and Sid, namely. But I never asked it of them, nor would I. Still, it touched me that Melanie would consider it, and I smiled at the thought.
I folded my arms against the tabletop and leaned forward. “So, tell me … anything,” I said, clasping my hands together.
“Anything?”
I nodded. “Yeah, anything. Tell me about your life. Your kids. Your husband … whatever. I wanna know anything.”
The truth was, I wanted to knoweverything. I wanted her to lay it all out on the table, to tell me every ugly, beautiful bit of truth that had built who she was in this moment. I wanted to fill my mind with it, to know her in every definition of the term, and maybe, if I was lucky, at the end of it all, she'd want to know me too. But more than anything, I just wanted to know her. To have some facts to add to the memory of her pretty face and the pieces—as few as they might be—that belonged solely to me.
She licked her lips and nodded, clasping her hands and mirroring my stance. “Okay. Where should I start?”
“I don't know. The beginning?”
She laughed at that, looking across the table like I'd lost my mind. “We'd be here for a long, long time if I did that, and you have a job to do, and I have kids to tuck in.”
“Then give me the CliffsNotes.”
She smiled, giving her head a little shake as she bit her bottom lip. “God, you're the same as you were back then.”
“Not exactly the same.”
She tipped her head, studying my face, then said, “No, you are. A little older—”
“A lot older,” I corrected with a sardonic chuckle.
