Meant For Me (6 page)

Do you miss Russia?

No. It was cold in the orphanage and no one gave a shit about us. But there is one thing I miss.

For some reason I hadn’t expected Chloe to swear, which was stupid. Of course she swore. Everyone swore. I pictured her as a tiny toddler, malnourished, shivering, her hair dark, skin fair. Huge pale eyes.

What is that?

It doesn’t matter
.

But it did. To Chloe. And to me.

Do you still speak Russian?

The minute I hit send I wanted to kick the crap out of myself. She didn’t fucking speak English. It sounded like an insult or something.

But before I could apologize Chloe responded.

I had a hard time learning English at first. But I think in both Russian and English now.

I wasn’t even sure what that meant. I wished I could at least see Chloe’s face, read her expressions when she typed her thoughts. Texting could never replace conversation and I felt frustrated. I wanted to hear what she had to say. Yet I couldn’t. Never would. Was that why it mattered, because I couldn’t have it?

No. That wasn’t all there was to it. I wasn’t that much of an asshole. She was just frankly the most interesting girl I’d met in years. It wasn’t just that she was mysterious. It was why she was mysterious. She had a life that set her apart, made her different. Cerebral. She didn’t spend her days taking selfies and having vapid pointless chatter with girlfriends or random girls. Her thoughts mattered and her speech, because it was almost nonexistent, mattered most of all.

Or maybe her speech didn’t matter one iota. It was intriguing and strange and a welcome distraction from my own self-created bullshit.

Which was why I sent the next text.

Can I see you?

What do you mean?

Let’s go for a walk on the beach or go into town for a drink.

I stared at the ellipse indicating she was typing a response, wanting her to say yes. Aubrey’s house was small and quiet and it suddenly felt like the walls were closing in on me. I wanted, needed to walk. I couldn’t go to bed this early. My schedule was too far off normal hours of turning in at ten at night and I knew I would just toss and turn on the couch for three hours. I could have a couple of beers to help me settle down and sleep but I had just pledged to lay off the booze. I couldn’t break that vow an hour in.

Plus there was no denying I wanted to see Chloe.

Come to my house and we can walk to town. My dad will freak out if I just go by myself. He thinks I’m an easy target.

There was an eyerolling emoji at the end of her text.

But I had to side with her father on that one. She was an easy target. Would Chloe be able to scream if someone snagged her? Probably not if anxiety caused her lack of speech.

Okay. I’ll be right over
.

I sat up and went into the kitchen. There was a key rack hanging by the back door and I fished Aubrey’s keys off the hook and experimented with all of them until I found the one that locked the back door. I didn’t want to leave Aubrey and Emma in an unlocked house. Then I left her a note that just said, “Went to town,” on the couch in case she came looking for me.

Aubrey was right. It was only a five minute walk to Chloe’s. Three because I was really hauling ass. I didn’t want Chloe to change her mind. Taking the steps two at a time, I knocked softly on the back door. I figured if she was telling her father what she was doing, he was going to want to see my face. Wishing I had bothered to shave, I rubbed my hand over my jaw. Talking to adults had always been easy for me, but now that I was an adult myself I hadn’t had much use for polite conversation. I was the bartender not the law student.

But when an older guy opened the door and eyed me up and down, I smiled naturally. “Hi, I’m Ethan Walsh, Aubrey’s brother.” I stuck my hand out.

He took it and shook. “Paul Rush.”

“Nice to meet you. Is Chloe here, sir?”

“Yeah, she’s here.” He paused and continued to assess me without moving out of the way. “Why do you want to see my teenage daughter at ten o’clock on a Wednesday?”

At twenty-one Chloe was not what anyone would call a teenager but I wasn’t going to argue with him. “We are going to go into town for a cup of coffee.” That sounded better than drinking, which I was determined not to do. The thought of getting hammered then saying or doing something completely assholish in front of or to Chloe made me shudder inwardly. “I’ll keep her safe, I promise.”

Paul glanced behind him like he was checking to see where his daughter was. Then he stepped out onto the porch with me and pulled the door shut behind him. Wary, I stood my ground, refusing to back up. Paul was a big guy but he had no reason to be suspicious of me. His bulky frame invaded my space, his expression serious.

“My daughter is very naïve,” he said in a low, even voice. “And she doesn’t spend a lot of time alone with guys. But don’t think that because she doesn’t talk and is shy that she can be taken advantage of, you understand me? Because she tells me everything and I’ll know and then you’ll wish you were never born.”

Hey, I could respect that he was trying to protect his daughter. I’d known Chloe for eight hours and I already saw that she inspired that same urge in me. Which was a welcome change from what I’d been feeling lately, which was a whole lot of fucking nothing.

“I understand. I have no intention of taking advantage of Chloe. She’s not my type of girl,” I told him honestly. She was about as different from Lila as you could get. “I’m here as a friend, nothing more. I’m going back to Orono in a few days but I’m a bartender and I’m used to late hours. I don’t want to disturb Aubrey and the baby so I figured I’d get out of the house.”

That was all true. I wasn’t going to start something with Chloe. That would be my shittiest move ever. On the very long list of dickish decisions that would come in top five. Maybe even number one depending on how far I would take it. But I wasn’t going to take it or her or anything. I just wanted to have a conversation, like real people did. Like friends.

Except for the fact that Chloe didn’t talk.

Paul nodded, slowly. “I’m going to believe you because I’m guessing you have access to girls who are more your type. You look like the guy girls drop their panties for, and I’ve got no opinion on that. I did my share of chasing ass when I was your age. But my daughter isn’t to play with and she’s not a circus freak, so if what you’re looking for is to be entertained, you might as well go home.”

I got it. And it annoyed me that he wasn’t letting it drop. I narrowed my eyes. “With all due respect, I think Chloe is probably pretty interesting aside from her body and her disorder. But it sounds like you don’t think so.”

Maybe I was pushing it, but seriously, come on. If he talked like that in front of Chloe it was no wonder she was anxious.

His eyebrows shot up. “You got balls, I’ll give you that. And Chloe is very interesting. But almost no one bothers to find that out.”

The front door flew open. Chloe had a look of alarm on her face and she shook her head and pursed her lips at her father.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said mildly. “Ethan and I were just talking.”

She pointed to the door and then to her father. Her finger came up and wagged at him. He didn’t look particularly concerned about her reprimand.

“Though I have been showing him baby pictures of you,” Paul said. The look of horror she gave made her dad laugh. “I’m kidding. Kidding.”

Chloe sighed. Her cheeks were stained pink. She looked at me, then her eyes darted away.

“She was a cute baby,” Paul said. “In all the pictures she is so damn serious.”

Chloe went on tiptoes and covered Paul’s ear with her hand. It seemed like she was whispering to him but whatever she said it was quick. He just nodded then kissed the top of her head.

“Have fun and don’t stay out too late. Call me if you need anything.” Paul gave me a stern look. “Make sure she gets in the house okay. Don’t be one of these idiots who lets a girl wander around by herself in the dark.”

“I’ll make sure she gets in the house, don’t worry.” I put my hand out. “Goodnight.”

He gave me a firm shake.

Paul stayed on the porch while Chloe and I went down the stairs. She was wearing the same clothes as earlier but she had a sweatshirt tied around her waist. I studied her profile. I could see the Eastern European heritage now. It explained the slender and elegant nose, the delicate melon colored lips, the pale blue eyes. I wondered what it must have been like to be three years old, yanked away from everything you knew, thrust onto a plane, taken to strangers, all while everyone spoke a language you didn’t understand. It must have been terrifying. Like a nightmare.

It didn’t matter how much the adults had been trying to reassure her, she wouldn’t have understand what was happening. Or when she was going home. How did you convey without speech to someone that they were being given a new home? A new life.

“Do you have a curfew?” I asked.

She frowned and shook her head. She pointed to her chest and drew the numbers 2 and 1 in the air. 21. She was twenty-one years old. Apparently that meant she didn’t need a curfew. Yet she lived at home.

“Do you go to school? College?”

She typed on her phone and showed it to me.
Online. I’m a junior
.

“What are you studying?”

English
.

That was ironic. To say the least.

We were walking down the hill, towards town. “You don’t mind walking, do you?”

She shook her head.

“I studied international and maritime law as an undergrad. I went to law school.” I wasn’t sure why I bothered to tell her that. It wasn’t like I’d graduated and become a lawyer. But it just seemed like part of my history, so relevant. For years, becoming an attorney had dominated my plans. I had wanted the suit, the prestige, the paycheck. But mostly I had wanted the challenge. I wanted to sort and puzzle out cases. Strategize how to win them. It was like a game to me, and one day I had stopped caring about the outcome.

It was like when your favorite football team dominates your thoughts and Sundays for years and then one weekend you’re on vacation and then you wonder why you cared so much. Why it mattered to win.

Which would have been fine if I’d had a backup plan. A replacement.

It seemed dishonest to not tell her the full story so I elaborated. “I didn’t graduate. So I don’t practice law. I just wasn’t… ready for it.” I wasn’t sure if that was the whole truth or not, but it had at least a kernel of truth to it.

Chloe didn’t say anything but she reached over and touched my arm, a barely there, split second touch that gave me more comfort than any expressions of sympathy, or words of encouragement, or curious questions could have done. Everyone had an opinion about my dropping out of school and usually it was negative. A glance at Chloe showed no judgment on her face. Nor was it pity. Just compassion, understanding. It amazed me how expressive her eyes could be. She said more with a simple brief touch and her piercing eyes than some people said with a thousand words.

Or maybe I could project onto her whatever I wanted to be there. Which was a disturbing thought.

The fact that she couldn’t speak seemed to encourage me to fill that void. I didn’t talk to anyone about my personal life and my fuck ups, yet I heard myself say to her, “I’ve disappointed myself. Have you ever done that? Just looked at yourself and wondered what in the hell were you doing but you weren’t able to stop it? I mean, seriously, dropping out of law school is one thing, but basically I have no plans for what to do instead.”

The island had a unique smell, a briny, salty perfume that teased at my nostrils with each soft breeze that came up the hill. It was both an oddly isolating feeling being in Vinalhaven yet at the same time I felt less pressure, more at peace here. I was pretty sure that no one in this town gave two craps if I had a degree or not. They would care if I paid or didn’t pay my bar tab and whether or not I was going to screw their daughters, but probably not much else. Prestige was measured by different barometers and for the first time as I pulled the door open to the coffee shop and let Chloe enter, I could see why Aubrey was happy here.

There would be no scramble to impress anyone. Everyone did their own thing. Live and let live.

All three heads of customers in the shop swiveled and looked at us. Two waved, not at me, but to Chloe. But then they went back to what they were doing. One guy had a laptop in front of him. The couple in their fifties were reading the newspaper and appeared to be doing the crossword. The barista was messing around with the espresso machine behind the counter. She was in her twenties and cute. She gave me an assessing look as we approached the register.

“Hi, can I get a regular coffee?” I turned to Chloe. “What would you like?”

“She wants an iced caramel macchiato,” the girl said. “Right, Chloe?”

Chloe nodded.

I wondered if she really did or if it was just easier to always have the same thing so communication was easier. Pulling my wallet out to pay, I noticed Chloe was digging in her pocket. “No, I’ve got it.”

The barista glanced back and forth between us. “So, Chloe, who is your friend?” she asked. “Tell me all about him.”

It seemed mean-spirited to me, considering she obviously knew Chloe couldn’t answer. Her eyes were shrewd, the tilt of her head making it clear she knew exactly what she was doing. I had spent enough time around mean girls to recognize the signs, the passive-aggressive intent to humiliate.

“I’m Aubrey Riker’s brother,” I told her. “And Chloe’s friend. That’s all you need to know.” I could play the asshole if she wanted to be a bitch. I’d had plenty of practice the last year. Handing her a twenty, I raised my eyebrows in a clear challenge. “Keep the change.” I glanced at her name tag. “Emily.”

It didn’t seem to faze her. If anything, she looked intrigued. Excited.

God, why was the male-female dynamic so fucked up? She should be running as far away from me as possible. Yet instead she asked, “So how long are you in town, Aubrey’s brother and Chloe’s friend?”