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  Dad killed a cop when I was eleven. Vik and I saw it all. He was in a fight with some guy that owed him money and cops came to break it up. They tried to get him to the ground but Dad pulled out his knife and sliced the throat of one. The other tasered him then, but he was on drugs and it only seemed to fuel his fire. He beat the one with the taser until he laid bloody on the ground next to the one holding his neck as he bled out. Vik and I watched from the other side of the road. I remember reaching for Vik’s hand, but he wouldn’t take it. He put his arm around me instead and led me away from the fight. We were back at our house when more cops came and questioned us.

  “Out of curiosity, why’d you try going straight?” I ask. “I didn’t realize you were interested in a normal life.”

  He scoffs at me before blowing out a circular puff of smoke. “So little faith in me. I found Jesus.”

  “Serious?” I say, flabbergasted at his response.

  “Fuck no. It was a girl.”

  A girl. I laugh, shaking my head. Then my laughter fades and we both sit in silence. It’s always a girl, isn’t it? Like for me, the girl I never forgot.

  I turn off the highway onto Cortland Street and Vik quirks an eyebrow “Where ya going?”

  “Nowhere.”

  He eyes me, and I hate that he can see through me so easily.

  “She don’t live there anymore, man,” Vik says.

  I make a face. I want to deny I’m going to see Ivy, but Vik would see right through the lie and I don’t want to argue with him about it. I don’t need him to remind me that I broke it off with her and she’s probably moved on. Because none of that matters. All I know is I thought about her every day in prison. Her face in my head was the only thing that made that place bearable. She’s the reason why I want to be better, and she’s the reason why I managed to rein myself in and stay out of trouble—mostly. If I have any chance at all at overcoming who I am, I need her help. The only problem is I’m pretty sure she hates my guts.

  2

  NIKO: I drop Vik off at home. He’s doing okay for himself. Medium-sized bungalow, nice big yard and a shiny new silver truck in the driveway. I imagine myself in the same kind of place if I hadn’t gone to jail. Maybe married with kids on the horizon.

  He gives me a quick tour. The inside is pretty plain, no decorations on the walls, just furniture. Some scattered frames with pictures in them sit on the table. I pick one up and see my sister and the familiar ache in my gut returns, just like every time she creeps into my thoughts. I touch my fingers to her face. She was beautiful then. Nothing like the unrecognizable mess of charred skin and bandages I last saw before the police threw me to the floor and dragged me out of the hospital in handcuffs.

  Vik seems to sense where my mind is and gently takes the frame from my fingers, setting it back down on the table, picture side down. I clear my throat and meet his eyes. They look every bit as sad as I feel right now. We loved Claire. Everyone did. Long, curly blonde hair, a wide smile with perfect teeth that never needed braces, and a sparkle in her eyes that I’ve only ever seen in one other woman. She was larger than life. The kind of girl who, at twenty years old, still suited up in the winter and went sledding with Vik and me and would make angels in the snow while she caught snowflakes on her tongue. No matter the life we were bred into, she refused to be a part of Yuri and Dad’s businesses. No, she volunteered at the fucking dog shelter nearby and worked as a waitress in a restaurant to help Mom make her mortgage payments.

  It’ll be weird living in this town now, without her around. Or with Ivy at my side. The only person I have left here is Vik. Nothing to my name. No house, no car, no clothing except what I got on my back. After I got locked up, Mom sold our house and moved a few hundred miles away. Likely, she parked all of my belongings on the side of the street to be picked up with the trash. How many times did she beg me and Vik not to follow in our father’s footsteps? I guess when the cops came for me in the hospital room while Mom, my brother, and I stood around Claire’s pale, lifeless body, she decided she’d had enough. A couple visits in the slammer and she wrote me off.

  “You can stay here,” Vik says. “For as long as you want.”

  “I appreciate it. I think I need to be on my own, though. Being cramped in a cell the size of a closet with three other grown men left me feeling a little claustrophobic.”

  “Yeah, I don’t blame you.” He scratches at his chin. “You need money?”

  “Nah, I stashed some for a rainy day. It’ll hold me for a bit.”

  “Save your money, man. Hammer and I fixed up that cabin we started out on Dad’s land by the lake.”

  My mood lifts as he holds all of my attention. Some of my best childhood memories were on that wooded parcel of land by the waterfront. Dad used to take us out there while he worked the land, clearing trees and rocks for a hunting cabin. When we were young, we’d horse around and play hide and seek in the woods or swim in the lake. Later, Dad put us to work and Vik and I were only too happy to help. Dad was calm out there, nothing like the usual stern, cold man I often saw when he was around his family. At the lake, I liked my dad. I couldn’t say that about his usual self.

  After the cops took Dad away, we stopped going out there. It was years later when I asked Vik to go out there with me and help me finish it. I hoped that it would bring me the same calm it brought Dad. By the time I got sentenced, we had the foundation poured and the frames erected.

  “It’s finished?”

  He smiles, nodding.

  “It’s small, but it has power and it’s furnished. You can hold out there. Stay permanently, or whatever. It’s not much. You might get bored, but…it’s yours if you want it.”

  “’Preciate it.” With an open hand, I touch his shoulder and squeeze. He clears his throat and I lower my hand to my side and clear my throat. If I’m going to try to start over again in this town, I can’t imagine a better place to call home.

  He hands me the keys and before I leave, I pick up the picture frame I held earlier and remove Claire’s picture. Vik watches but says nothing. I fold it in half and tuck it into the pocket of my shirt. I’m sure he has more, so I don’t think he’ll mind.

  When I reach the door, Vik calls out to me. “Yuri will want to see you, and the sooner you do it, the better.”

  “Absolutely. Wouldn’t want to offend the king.”

  Vik props his hands on his hips and glowers at me. “Don’t fuck around, man. You know what he’s capable of and I ain’t in the mood to be in the middle of a war where you lose.”

  I hold my tongue. There is so much I can say in response and none of it would be productive. I don’t want to fight with my brother today, not when he’s done so much for me. He’s the only person who offered to drive to the prison a hundred miles outside of town, to come and get me. He brought me clothes and offered me the cabin. Offered me money. I take a breath. If I can make his life a little easier by being nice to Yuri, then that’s what I’ll do.

  “I’ll drop by in the morning and we’ll go together,” Vik says.

  I don’t need my brother to escort me or to buffer or quiet my conversation with Yuri, but I don’t want to fight with him on this one either. “Sure.”

  Vik narrows his eyes, like he expected me to say something else, but he doesn’t push me. “Well, okay then.”

  I chuckle at him as I turn on my heel, push through his front door, and head for my car. He stands on the deck in his bare feet, his hands in his pockets, as I back out of the gravel driveway. He removes one of his hands from his jeans and raises it to wave good-bye.

  Within minutes, I’m on the highway and headed for town. I take the long way, past Ivy’s childhood home: an old yellow Victorian house with red shutters and a pond out back just before the tree line. I slow when I reach it and pull over to the side of the road. When I roll my window down I expect to smell the lilac bushes, but they’re gone now and so is the beautiful old oak tree with the long branches that snaked to Ivy’s bedroom window. Inst
ead, there are rose bushes and a tree stump gouged out with dead potted plants in its center. From root to branch tip, I could climb up into Ivy’s room in fifteen seconds flat. And I did. Often. Almost every night for the better part of a year. Like an addict, I had to have her near me every single day. Without her, I felt empty. That same emptiness almost drove me insane in jail. Yet it was me that ended things, foolishly thinking I was saving her from more misery by letting her go. I remembered what Mom’s life was like when Dad got arrested. She would cry herself to sleep. I couldn’t understand it because my dad could be such an asshole to her. Yet she ached for him and it killed me to see her like that. One visit from Ivy while I was in jail and all I could think about was what she was like at home, in her room at night. And I couldn’t do it to her.

  Fuck, she must hate me. Or maybe it’s been too long and she’s indifferent. I’m not sure which is worse.

  The moon is bigger than I’ve ever seen it. It lies dead ahead as I turn off the highway and onto one of the back roads that leads to town. There’s not much to see on the drive, just trees. Even in the moonlight, I can see the different colored leaves on the trees that flank the road, and it’s nice to see them up close again instead of squinting at them from the other side of a small, dirty cell window.

  When I turn onto Main Street, the street lamps are glowing yellow. There are people in the sitting area outside one of the town’s bars. Others walk the street, some with dogs and some in crowds. I slow as I approach the restaurant I know she works at. From time to time, I’ve asked Vik about her. He’s kept an eye on her over the years, giving me updates on where she was and what she was doing—within limits. I never asked about who she was dating. I didn’t want to know. It would have killed me. Sure, I expected it, but I didn’t want to hear it. I just needed to feel close to her somehow, and Vik keeping tabs on her seemed like a good way to do it.

  I pull up alongside the curb across the street from the diner. I check the dashboard and it’s almost ten. They should be closing soon. I want to wait until everyone is gone so I can go in and talk to her without the busybodies in this town watching and gossiping. My plan is flawed, though. I don’t even know if she’s working tonight.

  The last person leaves. I get out of the car and lean against it, lighting up a cigarette that I stole from Vik. I wanted to quit, but now I can’t find a reason why. If it feels good and calms my nerves, then who the fuck cares, right?

  I take a few drags. I’m mid-puff when I see her approach the bay window of the diner and turn the sign to closed. I know it’s her from the way she moves. I’d recognize her anywhere. Even from here, her beauty kicks me in the chest. Golden hair. Flawless skin and bright blue eyes. She’s still slim, still shorter than a Smurf. And she still dresses for herself. Nothing plain, nothing that blends in. Funky patterned tights and a bright tunic. Her hair is up in a messy bun and some hangs down over her neck.

  There it is. That feeling she always gave me. Like I’ve been sleeping and she just woke me up. I try to fight my goofy smile because I feel like an idiot pining over the girl I dumped but could never get over.

  She glances out the window and turns her head as if looking both ways. For a moment, I think she sees me, but then she turns away. She probably doesn’t even recognize me. I don’t look nothing like I used to with my face covered in hair.

  Now or never. Yet I can’t force myself to move. Why is this so damn hard? I’m no pussy, but this girl has me by the balls and she doesn’t even know it. I tell myself this is no big deal. It’s been a long time and maybe once I talk to her I’ll realize I made this out to be more than it was. I mean, it’s not like I’m still in love with her. I couldn’t be after all this time. I just miss her. But the truth is, I worry if I talk to her again, touch her again, I’ll fall back in love with her.

  I flick my cigarette out of my hand and I trudge forward anyway. I can’t walk away from her. As a car approaches, I slow and let it pass before continuing. When I make it to the window, I see her inside. Faint music sounds from behind the glass and with her back to me, she’s slowly bobbing along as she mops the floor.

  I’ve known Ivy since middle school, but we never had a single conversation until I caught her one day up in a tree on Dad’s waterfront land. She’d been crying—though I didn’t know that at the time—and when I told her to get down and get off my property, she stumbled and fell down into my arms. Once I saw her sweet face and her big, blue, teary eyes, I knew I was in trouble.

  Like a fucking stalker, I stand in front of the window, watching her. A couple walks by and stares at me longer than what’d be considered polite. Even after they’ve passed me, the guy continues to watch me over his shoulder and I hold his eyes until he looks away. They pick up their pace and disappear around the corner.

  When I look back to Ivy, my eyes lock onto hers. Her pink lips part and form a shocked O-shape. Neither of us move. Neither of us does anything for what seems like forever. The wind whistles in my ears and blows my hair in my face. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. This is my chance and I’m losing my nerve. Quickly. My heart is pounding and my stomach is in my throat. I’m a kid again and no time has passed since I kissed her while we swam naked under a full moon.

  I stroll to the door and she doesn’t move. I put up a hand to wave to her like a fucking fool and she still doesn’t move. I’m about to turn and walk away and abandon this idea altogether when she finally snaps out of it.

  She drops the mop and hurries forward, fiddling with the lock. When she opens it, I have no idea how to start a conversation. I hadn’t actually thought it through. I mean, I’d thought a lot about seeing her again, but I always thought about the seeing her part and the apology. I never really thought about anything else.

  “Niko?” she says. Her voice is like velvet, soft and silky.

  I nod.

  As if she can’t believe her eyes, she reaches out and runs her hands over my beard and down the sides of my face and I can’t help but smile and melt from her soft touch. I want to close my eyes and enjoy this feeling, but I’m afraid to let my guard down with her again. She’s going to reject me. How could she not after how badly I ended things between us?

  “It’s really you.”

  “You look good,” I say to her, my voice even. “Really good.”

  “You look…different,” she says.

  I chuckle, but I’m not in a laughing mood. “Not sure if that’s a good thing, Ive.”

  We pass a moment of silence, where she continues to look me over. She notices the scar on my neck and winces, but thankfully doesn’t ask me about it.

  “Come in,” she says. She drops her hands and backs away. “I didn’t know you were out.” She plays with her fingers so hard I swear she’s going to break them. She goes behind the counter and starts a pot of coffee.

  “They let me go today. Vik picked me up.”

  She frowns at the mention of my brother. There was never any love lost between them. She wanted to keep me straight—she and my sister—but Vik wanted me as his partner for all of Yuri’s jobs. I have to admit though; she was nice enough to him back then, no matter how cranky he acted with her. On occasion, we even got into fistfights about her.

  I slide onto a stool at the counter. When she finishes the coffee, she looks up, “Two milk? No sugar?”

  I used to take it like that, but they only had creamer at the jail and I found it too rich. Instead, I got myself used to drinking it black. “Black’s fine.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  When she’s done, she strolls around the counter and slowly lowers herself onto the seat next to me. “Well, this is a surprise. It’s been…six years?” she says, looking at me from her peripheral.

  “Yeah, pretty damn close to it.” Six years, four months and twenty-five days.

  “I’ll take your word for it.” She cradles her cup in her hands and blows on the coffee before taking a small sip. “Are you okay? I mean…was it bad?”

  I think abou
t that for a moment. I could give her the real answer and she’d accept it but I could also give her the answer I think she wants to hear. It would be easier for her if I lied. No one really wants to hear about the reality of prison: the drugs, the beatings for something as simple as using a toilet that someone claimed as theirs, the rape—though, thankfully, infrequent. I was never a victim of that, but one of my roommates was. He came back to our cell after a shower one day and hid his face in his pillow while he sobbed. He never said what happened, but I could tell by the way he moved over the next few days, wincing every time he sat down, and jumping back if anyone came too close to him. If he’d talked to me, I would have listened, no matter how sick it would have made me feel.

  “It wasn’t so bad. And it could have been worse, right? I mean, I think I got off lightly. At least, that’s what my lawyer said.”

  “Well, given the circumstances…”

  “I guess.” My words come out a little choked and I have to clear my throat.

  She takes another drink. “So you got out today and you came here?”

  “Is that okay?”

  “Well, yeah, I guess. But it’s…surprising.”

  Seconds tick by on the clock above the shelves holding the mismatched plates. The hands inch well past midnight, to almost one in the morning. The diner is quiet, save for the low hum from the dishwasher in the back and the glass-doored fridge holding deserts on display. Ivy doesn’t say anything for so long, I fear she might soon ask me to leave.

  I play with my cup, suddenly not feeling so thirsty. She has my stomach in knots and she doesn’t even mean to. “I wondered how you were.” I can’t tell her the whole truth, that I miss her or that I feel like I can’t ever have the life I want without her playing some role in it—big or small. And I really can’t tell her I’ve been keeping tabs on her. Yeah, no, absolutely can’t say that.