Page 55 of What He Never Knew
“You don’t have tell me, then,” I said, stirring as the storm raged on outside. The wind picked up, so I spoke louder over the sound of it. “We can talk about something else. Like…” I thought for a minute, resting the heel of my left foot on the opposite calf. “The weather. Or that eccentric couple that keeps coming into The Kinky Starfish — you know the one, guy always has a feather in his hat and his wife laughs at everything you say to her, even if it’s justlet me take you to your seat? Or we could talk about the election coming up. Are you a Republican or a Democrat?”
Reese didn’t respond, so I kept going.
“I’m a Democrat, though I really don’t like siding with one or the other. To be honest, I think the whole system is flawed. Why can’t we just have independent people running for what they believe in, whether it falls in red or blue or whatever. Like, is there no—”
“It’s the anniversary of my family’s death.”
My hand stopped mid-stir, all the words I’d planned to say instantly gone, like they’d been zapped by a powerful laser into nothingness. I just stared at the soup, at my hand gripping the wooden ladle.
“They died five years ago.”
I closed my eyes, a familiar ache in my chest spreading like a slow fire as I thought of my own father, of that loss. I abandoned the ladle on the paper towel next to the stove, crossing the kitchen to stand next to Reese again. He was still staring at the can in his hands, and I just stared at the floor in front of my feet.
“That’s a long time,” I said after a moment. Saying that I was sorry didn’t feel right, and I knew it never made me feel better when people said it to me, when I told them about my dad.
He nodded. “Which is what knocked me on my ass, I think. Five years. Five years without them, with life moving on like they didn’t matter.” Reese gripped the beer can a little tighter, the sound of the aluminum folding breaking the silence.
I wanted to reach for him again, the urge so strong now that I shifted until my hands were behind me, tucked between me and the counter I leaned on. “What happened to them?” I asked.
He cracked his neck, heaving himself up from the barstool long enough to trade his empty beer can for a full one. When he was seated again, he cracked it open, taking a long swig before he spoke.
“Did you ever hear of the mass shooting in New York City?”
I swallowed. “Which one?”
At that, his face paled, his hands stilling before he shook his head. “God, that’s so sad.”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to.
Reese ran a hand back through his hair, and I traced the movement, marveling at how much hair hehad. It was always tied back in a messy bun at the nape of his neck, but today, it flowed freely, the loose waves in it barreling down just past his shoulders.
“It was in Central Park, right behind the Met,” he said after a moment. “There was a little concert.”
Five years ago, I’d been about to go into my senior year of high school. It was a hard year for me, applying for college without my dad being there, hoping and praying I’d make it into my top choice — Bramlock. I hadn’t really watched the news, but a distant memory of the shooting he was referring to came to mind. I remembered my mom staring at the TV, one hand over her mouth as she listened to the account of what had happened.
“I think I remember,” I said softly, heart aching. “Were they… were they there?”
He swallowed. “Front row.”
I tore myself from where I stood, forcing a breath to keep myself from crying as I crossed the kitchen and stirred the soup again. It was done, so I cut off the burner and moved the pot to one that wasn’t on to let it cool.
I doubted either of us would want a bowl now.
Turning, I leaned against the counter, keeping distance like if I heard the rest of the story without standing next to him, I’d somehow be unaffected. “Wereyouthere?”
Reese shook his head, frowning. “No.” Then, he laughed to himself again, a sardonic sort of chuckle. “No, I was at their place, waiting for them to get home. Waiting to ask them for money.” He laughed again, louder this time. “Like the absolute piece of shit I was.”
My shoulders fell. “Reese…”
“No, Sarah, honestly, I was. I stillam.” He shook his head, staring at the beer can in his hands like it was responsible for all the pain in his life. “Everyone I love gets hurt in some way. I’m like a walking tornado, just fucking shit up and leaving destruction behind. I hurt my family, let them down, took my talent and their generosity for granted, and partied my way through life instead of making something of myself. Then, I broke a woman’s heart who loved me, who cared for me in the worst time. My friend and roommate, Blake.” He shook his head, tears glossing over his eyes.
The sight of that nearly sent me to my knees.
I covered my mouth, chest squeezing so tight my next breath was nearly impossible as I watched him.
“She loved me, and I didn’t see it. Not until I was back here, when she told me,” he said, still shaking his head. “And by then, it didn’t matter. Because I loved Charlie.” He laughed, a tear breaking loose and gliding down his cheek to his jaw. “And I hurt her, too. I hurt everyone. And now, everyone I love is gone. And I can’t even be mad.”
He was hysterical now, laughing with tears brimmed in his eyes.