Hold Me Close(57)
So why, then, did she find it so hard to simply tell him how much she loved and wanted him?
“It does kill me,” she told him, finally.
He turned. “So what, then? You’re a ghost? Because that’s how it feels to me sometimes, Effie. You’re a f*cking ghost, and all you do is haunt me.”
“I don’t want to!” she cried, then lowered her voice. “Don’t you understand? That’s why it’s no good for us to be together. All we do is remind each other of the past. It will keep us both...crazy.”
“I would rather have you haunt me, driving me mad, than have you leave me.”
From his front door came a brief, timid rapping. Effie looked at Heath, who shrugged, unsmiling but also unapologetic. She had herself put back together by the time he opened the door, and Effie had put a blank smile on her face, expecting a neighbor, a delivery person, a stranger.
“Hi,” Sheila Monroe said in her breathy, low voice. She pushed past Heath and was already in the kitchen before she looked up to see Effie, which stopped her short. Sheila gave Heath a startled look.
“Hi, Sheila,” Effie said.
Heath went to the fridge and pulled out several plastic containers of food that he put into a cooler bag with an ice pack. He added some bottled water and a loaf of sliced bread. Sheila shifted from foot to foot as she watched him, every so often flicking a glance toward Effie. She also took in the doughnuts and dishes on the floor. When Heath finally handed the bag to her, Sheila’s scrawny arm shook with the weight of it.
“Let me take that out for you.” Heath looked her over. “Did you drive?”
“Reggie gave me a ride. I don’t got my license back yet. He’s waiting for me in the parking lot.” Sheila gave Effie another uncertain, wavering smile that was more like a grimace. “How are you, Effie?”
“I’m great, thanks.”
Sheila nodded as though she’d expected nothing less. “How’s your little girl?”
“She’s fine.”
“She’s, what, ten now? Eleven?”
“Almost twelve,” Effie said. “If you can believe it.”
“I can’t.” Sheila’s laugh was bolder than her smile had been. She was missing a tooth toward the back. She hefted the bag of food over her shoulder and hesitated before opening her other arm to Heath for a swift hug. “Thanks, Heath.”
“I’ll talk to you next week, okay?” Heath walked her to the front door and followed her out, closing it behind him enough to keep Effie from seeing or hearing what they were doing or saying.
Not that it was any of Effie’s business. She gathered her own belongings. Coat, purse. Slipped into her shoes. She brushed her hair off her face, wondering if Sheila had seen the evidence of their f*cking on her face and not only on the floor. She decided she didn’t care.
When Heath came back inside, Effie was ready to go. Heath watched her button her coat without saying anything. She waited for him to ask her to stay. He didn’t.
“Well,” Effie said stiffly. “I guess I’ll get going.”
Heath cleared his throat. “She needs help. She has nobody else. She doesn’t take care of herself right. She lost her license for a DUI and is having a hard time getting hours at her job. You know it’s not... I’m not...”
Effie held up a hand to stop him. “You don’t owe me any explanations.”
“You don’t want one, that doesn’t mean I don’t want to tell you.”
She shook her head, not meeting his eyes, not wanting to fight with him again, not about this or anything else. Moments ago she’d been ready to ask him to...what? Move in with her and Polly? Make a life, a family, try to see if they could make things work? Right there, knocking on his door, was the reason why that could never happen. Why they could never forget their past. Not in any way that could ever be good for either of them.
“Polly asked me if I could live with you guys,” Heath said.
Effie looked at him. “Yes. I know.”
“Effie.” He sighed, and his bland expression twisted into sadness.
“Hold me close,” she whispered.
He had her in his arms then, and she didn’t want to leave him. She clung to him, cheek to cheek. They held each other in silence for a long time, until at last she stepped back and out of Heath’s embrace. She kissed him gently on the corner of his mouth.
“Haunt me,” he whispered. “Make me crazy for the rest of my life. But please, Effie. Don’t leave me. Just let me love you.”
“I don’t think I can...” Baby. Honey. My love. Brother. At the last, Effie turned from him, steeling herself against the voracious crescendo of sorrow threatening to send her to her knees.
“But, Effie,” Heath said, cold as ice, cold as a void, so cold it burned her worse than any fire. “Don’t you know? Not wanting to and not being able to are not the same things.”
She made it to her car before the sobs came. Wretched, wrenching, they shook her even though she clasped both hands over her mouth to keep even a single sound from leaking out. The spatter of icy rain on the roof covered the noises of her grief, but nothing could stop her from feeling it.
* * *
Effie can hear them in the next room, even with her hands over her ears. Low, rhythmic slapping. Daddy mutters commands.