Hydraulic Level Five (1) (46 page)

“What a heaping load of insanity. That’s…” His mouth slid open in shock and his eyes unfocused as he stared past me. He blinked once, twice. “Dammit. That’s what my therapist said, too.”

My eyes sought his. “Do you see? We can’t rebuild on air. We’ve both got to be truthful and…and honest. Otherwise we might as well say goodbye and walk right out that door.”

He rolled the hem of my dress between his fingers. “I don’t want you to go.”

“Then don’t make me beg for honesty.”

Long minutes passed. More silence, save for the faint pounding of dance floor speakers…
thud thud thud
. Panic that we were well and truly finished burned in my chest. Then he spoke, so softly.

“My mother…she…she was ill. Very ill. And there was no one there to help her, no one to…”

My breath whooshed out. “To help you?”

“No one to stop her.” The implications of his words hung heavily between us. “When I was a child, I loved my mother beyond reason. When I was older, I hated her. She was my world for so long…and she didn’t even know it.”

“And now?”

“Now…both. Neither.” He exhaled slowly, a mess of nerves and trembles. “I try not to resent her because I know she wasn’t well. I like to tell myself that if she’d had help, she would have been a good mother. But I just don’t know…I’ll
never
know. And there are some things that are hard to forgive.”

“Did she hit you?”

“A few times.”

“Did she do other things?”

“Not in the way you mean. Most days she forgot me. I was a ghost to her. Some days I longed for her to hit me, because it meant she knew I was there and that she felt something—anything—toward me. But then she would, and I’d wish to be forgotten again. I’d bring snacks home from kindergarten and hide them under my bed, just in case she forgot to feed me…”

My eyes fluttered shut. He’d only been a baby.

He continued, voice a detached whisper. “I remember her crying every night when she was home, the waterbed sloshing each time she turned. Sometimes she came into my room when she thought I was asleep and lay down with me. I learned quickly to pretend I wasn’t awake, or she’d get angry and yell. It was the strange little things which set her off—things that seemed like nothing, but were significant to her. Like my asking to visit Fenway Park to see the Red Sox.”

“How did she die?”

“I think you know.”

“Did your mother take her own life?” I asked carefully.

“Both of my parents did.”

Both?
I hadn’t seen that one coming. I gaped like a fish, trying to form words.

“I don’t remember my father—he died when I was a baby. My mother died just before I came to Lyons.”

“I met you at the Halloween party. You told me your mother was taking you trick-or-treating.”

His face was all raw reminiscence. “She packed me into her car and we drove to a hotel near Fenway Park. Before we left, she tucked a letter for Alonso in my backpack, asking him to keep me instead of her parents. She checked us in, requested a top floor balcony, and jumped.”

I bolted upright. My eyes flew to Samuel’s, though he wouldn’t meet them. “She jumped from the balcony?” I asked incredulously. “With her six-year-old son in the room?” Oh dear God, the things he must have seen. The aftermath…I covered my mouth to hide my gagging.

“For years, I convinced myself she’d accidentally fallen over the wall. But as I grew older and realized such a thing as suicide existed, I understood.”

My fingers weaved through my loosely pinned hair, tugging bobby pins free. “Oh my God, Samuel. I can’t believe…” I stumbled around for a way to finish my sentence, but there was nothing. A foggy memory from long ago clarified in my head, and I gasped.

“When we were little,” I said, “I remember your greatest fear was falling from high places. Alonso and Sofia took us to the national park to climb up a five-story look-out tower and see the tops of the trees. You screamed bloody murder the whole way up the stairs, and finally Sofia had to carry you back down.” I drew in a deep breath, my arms wrapping around my middle. “I get it now.”

He touched my knee. “I grew out of it, Kaye. Do you think I’d go skydiving if I hadn’t?” He offered me a faint smile. “Figuring out my mother’s death wasn’t an accident helped, in some respects. I didn’t walk around terrified of open windows, anyway.” He paused, his voice trailing lower, quieter. “It also taught me to cherish and protect the people I love, though I know I’ve done a disgraceful job at it.”

He’d been such a brave, sad little boy in that ghost costume. So quiet, so well-behaved.

And, I now understood, so traumatized.

I gazed at him, tenderly placed my palm against his face. I noticed it was slightly less clammy. “Why did she do it? Why did they both do it?”

“No one knows, though Dad and I have speculated. Neither was ever diagnosed with anything. But in retrospect, it’s apparent they were sick. I think, maybe, that’s why they fell in love to begin with. They must have recognized themselves in each other…fed off each other.” His trembling hand rested on top of mine.

“Symbiosis.”

“Symbiosis.”

My fingers curled around his, willing him to hear me. “Samuel, we are
not
your mother and father. I’m not, and neither are you.”

“Am I not?”

“No, you’re not.” I said adamantly.

“If you say so.”

“I say so.”

He closed his eyes and sighed, threading his fingers through mine. “Kaye, please, no more tonight. My sister just got married. Let’s just be happy for her and Angel.”

I relaxed my grip on his hand, willing to let the rest go…for now. Relief flooded his eyes as he realized I wouldn’t force the issue further tonight.

“When are you flying back to New York?” I asked after several minutes.

“Tomorrow morning.”

I grimaced, dreading that goodbye. We didn’t have much time. “Can you meet me tonight, after the reception? I know you need sleep, but you can sleep tomorrow away after you board the plane, can’t you? Oh shoot!” I slapped my forehead. “You have to drive to Denver, don’t you? Never mind, get some sleep.”

“It’ll be fine, Caroline’s driving. What do you have in mind?”

I hesitated, but he insisted. “Bring the letter.” I pointed to the crumpled piece of paper he’d dropped in his lap. “We’re going to talk about it. And then we’re going to get rid of it, once and for all. It’s killing us, Samuel. We need to let this rest in the past.”

“Okay.” His voice was tentative.

I drummed my fingers on his knees, trying to lighten the atmosphere. “I also had an epiphany while Angel and Danita exchanged vows today.”

“I noticed.” He smiled a bit, for real this time.

“I’ll share my idea later. I think it will help us.”

We sat for long minutes, perhaps even an hour, simply absorbing each other’s pain, driving it away. We shared the small things we’d learned in the time we’d been separated: I’d tried sushi for the first time and actually liked it. Samuel had given
Legends of the Fall
another go and still hated it. We discussed philosophy—I now thought that truth really wasn’t as relative as postmodern society believed. Samuel agreed, saying we had to have some sort of basis for reality. I admitted his big brain sometimes made me feel less smart. He admitted he envied my risk-taking, even if it made him worry.

Something momentous was shifting…Rather than guarding our Achilles’ heels, we exposed them to each other, so very slowly, while shielding each other’s weaknesses.

A set of feet tromped down the hall and jiggled the handle. The door opened a crack as a hand clutching a champagne bottle sluggishly pushed it open. Cassady popped in his shaggy head inside. His jacket was long gone, and his tie hung loosely around an unbuttoned collar and rolled-up sleeves. One of Danita’s lacy garters circled his bicep. He cursed as he sloshed champagne on the floor and immediately shut the door.

“Sssorry, gunnars,” he called to the closed door. “We’ll jus’ go upstairs. Sssorry.”

I snickered. “It looks like Cassady won the garter toss. I suppose that means I missed the bouquet toss, too.”

Samuel checked his watch and whistled. “Nine forty. We’ve been in here way too long.”

I groaned as I shook the numbness out of my feet and tailbone. Pushing myself up from his knees, I held out a hand and helped him to his feet. We brushed our backsides and took deep breaths.

“Are you ready to return to reality?” I asked.

“Only if you are.” He tried out a full smile. “The quiet is nice. I felt like I was leaping from circus ring to circus ring out there.”

I reached for the door, but Samuel’s arm came out, halting me. He wrapped his long fingers around my wrist, pulling me to him. One arm secure around my waist, he peered down at me.

“I don’t need your pity,” he said gently, firmly.

“I know.” I smoothed my hand over his finger-raked hair.

“I’m a grown man, Kaye—not that little boy anymore.”

“But it doesn’t mean I can’t feel pain for that little boy. Or that I love him any less,” I quietly added.

He shook his head and kissed a drop from the corner of my mouth. I hadn’t even realized I was crying. “I wish…”

He didn’t finish his thought. There were so many ways to finish it, and he probably couldn’t decide on one. His palm cupped the back of my head and he pressed me to him, kissing my hair once, twice. “I guess I wasn’t quite ready to let you go,” he said sheepishly and released me.

We walked up the hallway, the ruckus of the caterers in the kitchen having died down now that dinner was well behind us. As we passed the pantry, I heard a soft, feminine whimper.

I paused, tugging on Samuel’s sleeve. There it was again.

My eyes widened. I tried the knob—the door didn’t open. Was someone locked in?

“Hello?” I called, rapping on the heavy oak door. “Are you okay in there?”

There was a deeper moan and a giggle, followed by a flurry of rustling clothing and muffled cursing. I began to panic.

Samuel snorted.

I glared at him, baffled. Only then did I notice Cassady’s champagne bottle and black tie on the rug next to the closed door. The bride’s throw bouquet was propped up against the floor board, as well.

And then it hit me. Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. There was a reason the door was locked. Stupidly, I knocked again.

“Ahh, never mind! Forget I even knocked the first time! Go back to…whatever.”

A full-out laugh burst from Samuel. I poked him in the ribs, completely mortified. Dragging him behind me, we escaped the Cabral house before the pantry occupants emerged.

“You know who was in the pantry?” He lifted an eyebrow at me.

My lips twisted. “I have a hunch. Now we know who won the bouquet toss, too.”

As we re-entered the party, Samuel placed a hand on the small of my back and steered me toward the dance floor. The mariachis pounded out a samba and dozens of guests shuffled and grinded to the steamy number. Even Hector was out there, his collar popped as his hips swayed to the music. I quickly scanned the crowd for Caroline, but didn’t see her.

Once I realized Samuel was actually dragging me onto the dance floor, I did an about-face and retreated. But he caught my elbow, every inch of him sparking with naughtiness.

“Oh no,” he laughed, lifting my waist. “You have gotten away with this ‘I can’t samba’ garbage far too long.”

I squealed and kicked as he plopped me down next to Angel and Danita. Danita shamelessly high-fived him.

“Samuel, you know I can’t dance to this stuff. Slow dance, yes. Rock even. Latin, no.”

“Be good or I’ll carry you off to the pantry.” He placed his hands on my taffeta-clad hips and moved them with his, careful to leave a bit of space between us despite his pantry threat. He wasn’t going to push his luck. “You don’t seem to be having a difficult time dancing, Trilby. In fact, you’re pretty good at it.”

“Say that when your toes are broken, Cabral.” I scowled, but let myself go a little. His eyes flashed with approval.

Before long, I partied with Angel and Danita, thoroughly enjoying the beats pulsing from the stage. I turned under Samuel’s hands and tipped my head back against his shoulder. White lights spun over my head, warm halos hitting the stark night sky. A cooling breeze brushed my skin and carried the faint smell of pine onto the dance floor.

“See?” he whispered into my hair. “Not so scary. It’s just music, Kaye.”

I laughed again, reveling in the place, the night, my friends, Samuel. I saw Cassady and Molly sneak across the lawn toward the dance floor, his arm flung around her long torso. Her hair was a sexed-up mess and she winked at me, conveying what I already knew. I hoped he wouldn’t break her heart.

In my periphery, Hector and Santiago bickered, Hector vainly trying to convince his brother that his “sultry” dance moves weren’t all that smooth. Even my own parents were being civil to each other, the two of them and Audrey sitting at a table, chatting over drinks as they watched us dance.