Page 52 of Edge of Ruin
But I didn’t want dead zones and “danger keep out” signs in our conversations, either. I sat up, pushing his hands away when he reached to pull me close again.
“I have a question, Jack,” I told him.
“Ask away,” he said, his face now hidden in the shadows.
“What happened after the bust?” I let my hair curtain my face.
Jack took my hand, squeezing it. “We’re having a beautiful time,” he said, his voice halting. “Don’t ruin it by asking me questions like that.”
“I’m not picking a fight,” I said gently. “I just need to know. Did you go to one of your other family members?”
He shook his head. “I couldn’t reach any of them. My mother was in India, meditating with some guru. My aunt had moved on to some other boyfriend. They hadn’t stayed in touch.”
“You just took off all alone?”
“It wasn’t so bad at first. It was summer, and there was fruit and corn to steal. I ate a lot of hot dogs. And became an excellent shoplifter.”
I laughed, incredulous. “You?”
“Yep, me. I was unbeatable. I told you, remember? Fasting makes me crabby.”
He fell silent, and I reached out to stroke his shoulder. It was rigid. “And then?”
“I lasted about eight months,” he said flatly. “I found the places where the runaways crashed. But the winters get cold. One night, I was in this flophouse in North Portland. Some guys picked a fight with me. It ended badly.” He touched the scar on his forehead. “That’s where I got this.”
I leaned down, and kissed his eyebrow, his forehead.
“That was it for me. I found a phone. Called Margaret, collect.”
“Margaret? You mean, you knew her then?”
“No. But Freddy knew her,” he corrected. “From when he was a kid. He’d told me about her. So I gave her a try. The operator asked if she’d take a call from Freddy Kendrick’s nephew, and she accepted the charges.”
“Wow,” she whispered. “So you went to live with her?”
“For a while,” he said. “She was good to me. I was lucky to have landed with her. I joined the military as soon as I was old enough. Didn’t want to be a burden to her.”
I ran my fingers through the sable texture of his hair as I thought about it all. “You think I’m like them, right?” I said softly. “Like your family? That I’ll run out on you?”
He rolled over, clapping his hand over his eyes. “Oh, fuck, Viv. Don’t.” He sounded exhausted. “It’s so beautiful. Don’t wreck it for me. Just let it be what it is. Please.”
“But I just want you to?—”
“Let me have this, okay?” He sounded angry again. “For however long as it lasts. Can’t we just stay in the moment?”
I hid from the revealing shaft of moonlight that illuminated the quilt. There was something to be said for staying in the moment, hard though it was. But I was a normal, flesh-and-blood woman. I craved the usual reassurances, promises, declarations of trust, faith, love. And I wasn’t going to get them from him. Period.
But so what? That did not mean that what he gave me instead was not precious. Or that I shouldn’t cherish it anyway.
After all. Suppose we stayed in the moment, for, say, thirty years? Forty? Fifty? Maybe when he was a grizzled old man, he would give in and laugh at himself. And finally admit that it had been love all along.
I slipped back between the sheets and into his embrace. The idea made me smile, but my eyes were wet.
Chapter Fifteen
Vivi
I stepped back from the wall I was painting and surveyed the warm ivory tone with satisfaction. I pictured the elegant earthenware vases that I planned to showcase there, and stood back to imagine the effect. Classy.
