Page 98 of Falling Slowly
“A dreamer.”
“Most are,” I said carefully. “You have to believe in what you’re?—”
“I was trying to be kind and not speak ill of the dead.” She rearranged her scarf, hiding her mouth behind a gloved hand. “Jack didn’t live in the real world. He was up and down. All or nothing. Flying high one minute, then down in the dumps. It’s okay to fail. It’s okay to feel depressed. But if you’re not honest. If you don’t communicate…” She shot me a sharp look and my gut tightened.
I couldn’t spin this any other way. I’d been keeping the truth from Bess.
“Well, at least you’re not lying on your brother’s couch, drugged up,” she concluded. “Maybe it’s better that Bess doesn’t know. It would have ruined this vacation, for sure. It’s a good thing she lost that phone, I suppose.”
I felt another bout of guilt, but held my tongue.
“She’ll find out eventually,” Kathy continued, casting a grave look at me. “Then what?”
“I was hoping that by then, she’ll see that we belong together, and it doesn’t matter either way. If she gets fired, I’ll resign and start a new business. I’ll take my clients with me.”
I hadn’t thought that far before I spoke the words, but as I heard them, I knew it was true. That’s what I’d do. I’d walk out and take Bess with me. Fuck the clients. I’d only need her.
“That’s ruthless. Are you a ruthless man, Charlie?”
“I can be,” I admitted. “For a good cause.”
She huffed, looking at me like she hadn’t quite decided what I was good for. “You seem more resilient, though, or am I completely off?” She tilted her head, and I noticed her eye colormatched Bess’s. The crow’s feet bracketing them deepened as she smiled. A beautiful woman, like Bess.
“Bess is resilient. I am… fortunate. I haven’t needed all my resources. But I’m not afraid to ask for help.”
At that moment, I saw the acceptance on her face. She’d made up her mind. “Bess is lucky to have you. She hasn’t had a lot of luck lately, or resources. But are you sure you’re in this for good? She has a child.” She nodded at Celia.
“I love them both.”
I’d just have to prove to Bess that I meant it.
“Fair enough.” She looked at the cabin again. “Let me see if I can help you a little.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Bess
I’d never spent so much time on my knees. After a blissful shower, I’d forced myself to dress up and look through the porch, again. If I licked the stupid thing clean, surely, I’d end up consuming the required pill. After fifteen minutes of awkward searching, moving every flowerpot, decorative sculpture and the welcome mat, I’d discovered something that looked like an old Tic Tac, as well as two white pills that looked eerily similar.
Why were there so many discarded pills lying around on the porch? What kind of pill-poppers did Rubie Ridge host? To be fair, I’d also unearthed a piece of condom wrapper, a stick of gum and three dental floss holders, so it was pretty obvious the porch hadn’t been cleaned for a while.
Satisfied that I’d scoured every inch of the entranceway, I sat on the steps, staring at the two pills in my hand.
What the fuck was I supposed to do? Without access to the internet, I couldn’t check what my pill looked like. I rememberedit being round and white. That was it. But did it have a groove in the middle? How deep a groove? Was it chalky or shiny? Why was my memory useless?
I fetched the foil blister the pill had been in, trying it with both pills. They each fit in fine, although one had a tiny piece missing on the side. It could have broken off as I’d dropped it though, so I couldn’t rule it out.
It was likely my pill was one of these two. If I took both, I’d get the right one, but also risk ingesting something else harmful. Chances were it was just a painkiller. But what if it wasn’t?
How bad could it be? I was on no other medication. Was there anything that could interact with the morning-after pill?
This is how Jack had died—mixing medications that shouldn’t be mixed, thinking he was doing the right thing.
The thought punched me so hard my lungs flattened, and I fought to draw another breath. I should have been there. I was the cautious one who thought of everything, who constantly assessed the level of risk.
Except this week, with Charlie, I’d taken a risk after risk and ended up here with an injured leg and two terrifying pills.
What was worse—a pregnancy or unintended drug side effects? Even if it was Adderall or Vicodin, one pill wouldn’t kill me. What did those pills look like? Why, oh why didn’t I have internet?
