Finding Home (30 page)

Rossi stood at the bar, sipping what looked like a scotch on the rocks, but was probably a ginger ale. He was in his late fifties, and had started off as an old-fashioned, hard-drinking reporter before his liver put the kibosh on alcohol.

Rossi greeted her warmly, and they settled at a corner table and ordered a variety of dim sum. They chatted about the latest issue of the paper, about the atmosphere in the office, the weather, everything and nothing.

Megan grew antsier by the minute. She hoped she was right in assuming this lunch was about a promotion, that Rossi wasn’t going to tell her there was no opportunity for anything permanent at the moment.

A waiter bustled around them with more bamboo steamers. When he left, Megan seized the opportunity to change the conversation.

“Gerald, you haven’t asked me here to talk about the sunny weather in L.A., or the latest smog report. Can you put me out of my misery, please?”

He smiled, his eyes crinkling in his jowly face. “You know, we’ve been doing well on the advertising front in the past couple of months. It looks like we’re going to be able to expand our reporting team.”

“You mean…”

“I mean I can offer you a full-time post as a reporter starting in September.”

“September? Wow.” Megan grinned, feeling dazed at the abrupt reality of her long held dream.

“We can discuss the details of your salary package, but obviously it will be going up. I’m thinking of putting you in charge of occasional series, too. You did well with the articles about local schools, and I liked your ideas on taking it further. You have a good campaigning journalist’s mind, Megan. That first piece you wrote about the homeless kids, you put a lot of yourself into that, and it showed.”

You have no idea, Megan thought. She fought an urge to giggle like a schoolgirl. Instead, she lunged across the table and hugged Rossi, startling him. “I swear you won’t regret it,” she said as she settled back into her seat.

“I’ll probably lose you to the L.A. Times in a few years, anyhow. You have talent, Megan. I might as well make use of it.” Rossi picked up a prawn dumpling with his chopsticks and popped it into his mouth.

For the rest of the lunch, Megan floated on a happy pink cloud above the table. She hadn’t felt that good in months. Fuck moping about Sean. This was what her life was about: hard work, professional recognition and success. And she deserved it.

ZY

Toward the end of that week, Megan was busy folding laundry and putting it away, when the doorbell rang. It was nearly seven-thirty, and she couldn’t think of anyone who’d be dropping by at that time.

She checked the peephole and froze in shock. It was Sean.

Her heart thudded in her chest and panic surged through her. This was a moment Megan had dreamed about so many times, but had convinced herself would never happen. Now she had no idea what to do, torn between elation and fear.

She hesitated so long, the doorbell rang again. Taking a deep breath, Megan opened the door.

Sean looked pale. And more handsome than she ever remembered him, his shaggy hair falling in his eyes, making her want to brush it away so she could see them clearly. He wore faded jeans and a black T-shirt, and looked incredibly attractive.

Her heart caught in her throat.
“Hey.” His voice sounded hoarse. “Can I come in?”

Megan hesitated. But she had no choice. She couldn’t just send him off.

“Sure.” She stepped back, leaving ample space for him to walk past her, but as she caught his familiar smell her stomach flipped, her body betraying her instantly.

She gestured vaguely toward the living room and followed him.

Sean sat on the couch that had been his bed for a few weeks and looked up at her. He seemed uncertain and apologetic.

A huge part of Megan wanted to sit next to him and let him wrap his arms around her. But her brain screamed at her to keep her distance. If they touched, she knew she couldn’t rely on her body to obey her.

“Want anything to drink?” she asked. “Beer? Soda? Coffee?”

Sean smiled tentatively, his eyes crinkling. “Beer would be nice. Especially if you still have some of that Pilsner.”

As she opened the fridge and pulled out two bottles, Megan felt the back of her neck prickle. It was as if he’d never left. She knew in her heart if he asked to come back, she’d find it almost impossible to turn him down. Except that she’d have to. He was never going to ask anyway, and she was only just managing to get over him, and what the hell was he doing in her apartment anyhow?

She handed him the cold beer, making sure their fingers didn’t touch, and asked him point blank. “So what brings you here after all this time?”

Sean stayed silent for a beat, his gaze fixed on the beer bottle loosely held between his fingers. He cleared his throat, but when he spoke, his voice was still hoarse.

“I wanted to see you. See how you were doing.”
“Why now?” she asked.

Sean shrugged. “Because I couldn’t earlier.”
“What do you mean?” She willed her voice to stay calm when she wanted to scream. Earlier
?
As in, maybe one, or three, or five months ago, when she was going crazy with worry and the pain of missing him. “Why not?”

He spoke slowly, not meeting her eyes. “I couldn’t, because it would have been too hard. I was trying to stay away from you, to stand on my own two feet.” He looked straight at her. “I couldn’t see you, Megan. I wouldn’t have been able to stay away.”

She blinked. Already, tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. There was no way she was going to start crying in front of him. Not now, not when she was getting back on track. She latched on to the one thing she could control—her anger.

“Did it occur to you maybe to call more often than once every two months or so?”

Sean’s eyes widened. “Uh…I didn’t want to harass you. And to be honest, at first, it was just easier not to talk to you.”

“Easier for you.” “I’m sorry if I was—”

She cut him off. “Do you have any idea what it was like for me after you left? I didn’t know where you were, and how you were surviving. God, I was trying to cope with life without you, and you never even called? For weeks? Did you ever think about how that felt?” She knew she sounded shrill, bitter and hurt, but couldn’t help it. All the pain and loneliness of the past six months poured out like venom.

“I didn’t…” He frowned, bewildered.
“You didn’t realize? Fuck, Sean, it hurt so fucking much when you left.” Her voice broke.

Sean looked shocked. “I’m sorry. I thought…you’d find it easier without me. Without having to explain me to your family, to your friends. I didn’t think you’d really miss me. I mean, not in the long run.”

Megan stared at him. “Are you serious?”

Sean ran his hands through his hair, his face distraught. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She sighed. “Yeah, well, you did. A lot. But…I’m getting over it. Finally. Which is why I’m asking you, why are you showing up now?”

Sean pushed up from the couch and paced the living room, swigging from his beer. He was silent for a minute, and Megan wondered whether she was going to get an answer.

“Last week, I went back to the boulevard, to see how the kids were doing. I ran into Ricky. He was in a foster home for a few months, but ran off. He’s back on the street turning tricks. The thing is, while he was away Elf couldn’t handle it, losing his buddy. He slit his wrists.”

“I know.” Megan nodded. “I heard.”

He stopped pacing, his blue eyes reflecting pain and guilt. “I never went back to check on him. I knew he was fragile. But I left and wanted to make a clean break, so I just ditched all those kids, cut them loose, forgot about them. It was the same when I walked away from my mom. I keep cutting and running from my life. I leave people behind.”

He paused and took a deep breath before plowing on.
“I don’t want to leave you behind. I want us to be, I don’t know, friends at least. I care for you more than I’ve cared for anyone else and I don’t want to let that disappear. I don’t know how your life is now, whether you still have any space for me, whether you have a boyfriend or what. But I’d like us to keep in touch.”

He stopped again, and turned away from her so she couldn’t see his face. “I don’t want to lose you, too, Megan.” He sounded on the verge of tears.

Megan was speechless. In her constant thoughts about him, she’d always pictured him as the one who left because he needed to, but also because he wanted to. Now it turned out she’d been almost as blind as he had.

“I don’t want to lose you, either,” she said tentatively. “I’m glad you came over. But it’s going to take a while before this stops being weird.”

He turned toward her, relief etched on his features. It was odd how hesitant they were with each other, how unsure of the other’s reaction.

“So what have you been doing since you left?” she asked. “You said you had a job, a place to stay. How did it go?”

He sat again. “I started off in a Salvation Army shelter. I figured it was best if I didn’t try squatting or hanging with any of the people I knew. I wanted to keep away from my old life.”

“Don’t you have to be eighteen to go to shelters?” Megan asked. “I thought they sent kids back into foster care.”

“There are ways of getting around it. You know I have fake ID. They don’t check that closely. And I turned eighteen in March, anyhow.”

Megan knew, of course. It was strange to think, after all her soul-searching over his underage status, he was now legal.

“And what about now?” she asked.
“I have a room in a shared house with a couple of guys, I work at a garage as a trainee mechanic, and take evening courses at a junior college.”

Megan was amazed at his casual tone. This was a kid who, nine months ago, was blowing guys in cars for cash. For a second, she stopped thinking about Sean as her lover and saw him as a young man making his way in the world relying on no one but himself. She was awed.

“Wow, Sean, that’s… That’s fantastic.”
“Fantastic? No. But, even though it’s hard working and going to school, it’s cool. I feel like I can handle it. The guys at the Salvation Army were kind of okay. I met some other fucked up kids. We talked about stuff. It helped.”

Megan felt faint all of a sudden. She had no idea what to do. Part of her was still processing the fact that, after all this time, Sean was in her living room, in the flesh, not another daydream she’d summoned from her fantasies. The rest of her tried to catch up with what he was telling her. It was all too much.

She had to make a decision quickly, otherwise she was going to fall apart.

“Sean, I’m glad you came,” she said, taking a step toward him. “But I think you should go home. For now. I’m really glad you found a place to stay, and a job, and everything, and that your life is shaping up, but right now, I need…I need time to figure this out.”

There was a moment of complete silence. Megan thought maybe she’d just fucked it up. Then Sean smiled, and she breathed again.

“You can have all the time in the world,” he said. “After I took off for six months, you can take as much as you need. Just…don’t forget me, is all.”

Megan snorted. “Yeah, like I could. I tried, and just as it was getting easier, you show up.”

“Can I leave you my number?”
“If you can find a pen and paper anywhere.” She gestured at the living room table. Since Sean had left, it had reverted to being a pile of unsorted papers, magazines, CDs and unopened junk mail. He bit his lip, either in annoyance or amusement. Locating a working pen and paper, he scribbled a number on it before handing it to her. This time their fingers touched fleetingly, and a tingle of electricity shot through her. That hadn’t changed.

“I promise I’ll call you,” she said. “It might not be right now. But I will.”

He looked into her eyes for a moment, then grinned, a crooked, delighted smile that made her heart skip a beat. There was something so familiar about the shape of him in her apartment, even after six months, something so right.

He walked to the door, flashed her a last smile over his shoulder as he opened it, then he was gone.

The week following Sean’s return was unsettling and Megan kept wavering between exhilaration and anxiety. On one hand, she was overjoyed he was back, had sought her out and asked her to keep in touch. On the other, she was terrified of facing another heartbreak. Every night, she looked at the piece of paper he’d given her with his number on it and decided not to call him. On some level she knew she was making him pay for all her weeks of waiting during those bleak winter months.

She focused on writing, working on articles to keep her mind off Sean. On Friday afternoon as she composed a piece for the following week’s issue, the phone rang. She refused to answer it and interrupt her flow. That’s what machines were for.

After the fifth annoying ring, the answering machine kicked in, reminding Megan she still had that ridiculous drunken message from over a year ago representing her to the world. She really needed to change it.

“Hello, Megan?” It was Charlotte. “Please, if you’re there pick up. It’s important.”

Charlotte’s definition of “important” and hers didn’t often coincide. Megan waited to hear more. “Call me right away. It’s—it’s about Mom.” Charlotte’s voice broke.

A lightning bolt of fear lanced through Megan. She leaped off the bed and grabbed the phone. “What? What happened?”

“Oh, Megan,” Charlotte choked through her tears. “She’s… Mom had a heart attack. She’s dead.”

“What? That’s impossible. She doesn’t have heart problems.”
“Dad says she complained of shortness of breath and pain in her arm. He finally convinced her to let him take her to the emergency room.”

“She’s not even sixty yet. It doesn’t make sense.”
“On the way there, she went into cardiac arrest. By the time he got her to the hospital, it was already too late.”

“Oh my God. No.” Megan sank down to the floor, her legs too weak to support her.

“Daddy just called. Greg and I are almost to the hospital now. I’ll call you back as soon as I get there, but I thought you’d want to get on the road right away.”