Page 73 of Stuck-Up Big Shot
I extend a hand across the table and take hers, which she willingly gives.
“I was stubborn and didn’t heed your advice right away. It wasn’t until I was in the hospital room with Granny that it hit me. I physically had to let her go, and emotionally I had to sever the ties with Melodie, as well.”
“Miles, will you share with me why you feel so responsible for Mel’s death? I mean, you weren’t even there when it happened.”
Flipping her palm up, I trace the grooved lines of Sutton’s hand, slowly navigating the lifeline around the curve of her thumb.
“Exactly. I wasn’t there for her. I’d turned a blind eye to what was happening back home with Mel. I was in college, having a good old time, and ignored all the warning signs that were right there under my nose. Mel started skipping school. Her grades began to drop. She was getting detention and acting out. And then she quit the swim team, her favorite sport in the world. She had new friends and bad influences, leaving her good friends behind.”
I cup both my hands around hers now, and she adds the other to the mix. If someone looked, they’d think we were in prayer together. And maybe we are in some way. Purging ourselves of our sins and asking for forgiveness.
“I hadn’t come home that summer like I’d done before because I stayed in the city with some friends. I regret that decision the most, looking back now. Perhaps if I’d been home, she wouldn’t have started using. By the beginning of the school year, as you know, she’d all but dropped out. Mel called me the night she died.”
I can’t look Sutton in the eyes. It’s too painful, and I don’t want to see pity or contempt for my actions.
“I think she knew she was in trouble. She apparently went out that night to a party with an unfamiliar group of acquaintances. By then, I know she was drinking regularly, smoking weed, and taking pills. But that night, she tried heroin. Regardless of whether it was the first time or the hundredth time, it was the last. She got a dose of fentanyl-laced heroin—a lethal combination.”
Button is openly crying now, dabbing her eyes with a napkin, her bottom lip trembling.
“Mel called me at some point that night. I’m not sure if it was before she got high or after. I didn’t answer. I was busy. Too busy to make time for my only sister. I saw the missed called later that night around midnight and figured it was too late to call her back. Too late is right.”
I take a breath and drop my head into my hand, keeping one attached to Sutton.
“I’ll never have that chance to do it over again. It plays on repeat in my head all the fucking time, Button. I think you said it best. There are things weshoulda, coulda, wouldadone to change the outcome of our life, but thinking about it in regret doesn’t do shit.”
“Miles, can I confess something to you?”
I lift my gaze to Sutton’s face, whose smile is a pool of kindness. “Of course.”
Her blush covers her soft features, a pink swath warming her cheeks.
“I never told Melodie that I had a crush on you because I thought she’d be mad at me. Or worse, tell you. But I believe she always knew. And I think that we’re here together through fate and Mel. She’s brought us together for a reason. Why else would we have reunited in this strange coincidental way after all this time?”
I nod in agreement. I don’t think it’s such a stretch to believe that, either.
Sutton continues, “I think Melodie is up there”—she points to the clear blue sky above us — “right this minute hatching some kind of plan, just like she always did when we were kids, to get us together. Is that weird to believe that?”
I smile fondly at Sutton because I feel the same way.
Lifting my coffee cup in a toast, prompting Sutton to do the same, I say, “Here’s to fire alarms, fate, and family.” We clink cups, and she grins from ear-to-ear.
“And here’s to you, Button,” I continue. “You are an unforgettable presence in my life. When I remembered the good memories of my childhood, of summertime and family, I saw you, Sutton. You were always present. And while those memories may have been buried for a while, I never really ever forgot you or what you brought into my life. You’re part of me, then and now. And I love you.”
Epilogue
Three-months later—Sutton
“Welcome!So glad you both could join us tonight.”
Soraya stands at the entrance of their apartment door, arms open wide as she greets me and Miles, who’s holding a bottle of wine in his hand, looking a bit uncomfortable by the very colorful greeting.
Until Graham steps out from behind the door and claps him on the back.
“Hey, man. Good to see your sorry ass. How ya been? It’s been so long,” Graham deadpans, looking to his watch facetiously with a laugh. “A whole three hours?”
They laugh and head into the living room while I follow Soraya into their large kitchen, which I put to good use while I stayed here in July. It’s a Friday night in early December, and Graham and Soraya invited us over for an evening of food and games, which Miles scoffed at when he heard the part about playing games.
One of the things I’ve recently learned is that Miles has the attention span of a Labrador puppy when it comes to any sort of game. Unless it’s watching the stock market rise and fall, he’s not interested in fun and games.
