Tears (17 page)

I think Ed is the only unselfish person that I know. Except for my dad.


Heather, Sam, and me—we're all narcissists.


A thousand horrible scenarios whirled through his head at once, all revolving around. . .
them
.

“DAD?” GAIA CALLED.

One Day

This is going to suck.
Gaia pushed open the front door of the Mercer apartment and pocketed her key. She'd been dreading this moment: the inevitable confession. Now she'd have to tell her dad how Sam had stood them up for dinner.
And then there would be some kind of sympathy moment during which her father would spot the cut on her head.
And then there would be a stream of questions that she (
a
) couldn't answer and (
b
) didn't feel like facing.

Bath. Hot bubble bath. Three hours long. That was all she wanted.

Which, judging from the darkness, she would be able to get after all.

Yes.
Gaia ripped off her coat and hit the bathroom, eager to fill the tub before her father got in. That way they could talk more distantly through the bathroom door and maybe avoid some of the mandatory fatherly concern factor. It wasn't that Gaia didn't like the idea of fatherly concern. She just needed to be alone. Anyway, what could her father say that she didn't already know? Sam had let her down. Broken his word. And her heart. Case closed.

She sighed, a slow ache burning up through her heart as she stared at the running water. She thought of all the clichés people said at moments like these, clichés
that only made the pain worse.
If it looks too good to be true, then it is too good to be true.
Gaia almost laughed at that one. Sam had always looked too good.

It was over, though. She needed to accept it and move on. Like she had so many times before, with so many other losses. She forced herself out of the bathroom at a brisk walk, steering her thoughts away from him. Tonight she would have a nice dinner with her father. Tonight she would savor the good things. The positives. Speaking of which, it
was
kind of weird that her father wasn't back yet.

Gaia switched on the living-room light. Her eye fell on a piece of white paper, propped up on the mantel above the fireplace. She smiled. Ever since her dad had reentered her life, he'd become extra cautious about informing her of his every move. If he was late at all— even by a minute, even for the most trivial reason—he overapologized for it.

Poor Dad.
Gaia's smile twisted sadly.
He was still trying to make up for the way he'd disappeared from her life without a trace.
She knew he wasn't over his guilt yet. Five years was a long time. But one day. . .

Gaia lifted the note.

My dearest Gaia
,

By the time you read this, I will be gone. I cannot tell you where I am going or when I will
be back
—
only that I am going to London first. From there I will try to call before I am transferred somewhere else. They will not tell me where for fear that I will tell you. Please believe me when I say that I have no loyalty to anyone or anything but you
—
that my life as I once lived it is over. I suppose that in a way, it ended the moment we lost your mother. But that is a conversation for another time, another place.

I do everything for you, for your protection. If I am to see you ever again, I must go now.

I don't expect you to understand. If it were in my power to take you and run and be free of this life, I would. All that matters to me is your safety. But in order to ensure it, I must remain alive. George will take care of you for now. I trust him. I will return as soon as humanly possible.

My darling, forgive me, especially for leaving tonight of all nights. Know that I am thinking of you, that I remain always,

Your loving
Dad
            

With shaking hands, Gaia dropped the piece of paper to the floor.

Incredibly, though, she felt no pain. No sadness. Just resignation. She should have seen this coming.
She had been naive, deluded, and just plain illogical, staking her hopes of permanence on a man who disappeared for a living. And as always, her father had chosen the world over her.
His love was an illusion.
It looked pretty, handwritten there on his note—but it was just a word, void of feeling. Gaia flicked the light switch, plunging the room into darkness. It warmed her, enveloped her, shutting out everyone and everything else. She stood silent and still in the empty living room.

But then she noticed her cheeks were wet.

She was crying. Salty tears streamed down her face. But she still felt nothing. It was simply a physical reaction, a reflex. Maybe she could no longer feel sadness, either. Maybe sadness had gone the way of fear. That would be a relief. Then she wouldn't have any more trouble. Then she really
would
be the “new” Gaia she so desperately wanted to be. Accept it and move on. Accept it and move on. The words were her own private mantra, as soothing as a poem—

Knock, knock.

Someone was here.

Get lost,
she silently told the unwelcome visitor. But the knocking was persistent. George. Or maybe the kidnappers from earlier. Who knew, and who cared? Gaia sprang to her feet and threw open the front door, hoping it was a bunch of Jehovah's Witnesses ready to take her away to a better life...or a
serial killer waiting to put her out of her misery. Bring it on. Because anything was better than this, and nothing could be worse.

But at that moment she realized she was wrong.

Because that was when it broke: “it” being the last feeble string that held her together.

SAM BARELY OPENED HIS MOUTH
before Gaia collapsed into his arms, sobbing. Terror consumed him instantly.
He'd never seen Gaia so distraught—never seen anything close to this display of emotion.
A thousand horrible scenarios whirled through his head at once, all revolving around. . .
them.

The Limit

“What is it?” Sam begged, practically carrying Gaia's limp body toward the couch. “Gaia? Did someone try to hurt you?”

“He's gone,” she wept. “He's gone—”

“Who?” Sam demanded, holding her tightly to him, smoothing down her hair, doing anything he could to soothe her as her tears flowed down his shirt. He sat her down on the couch. “Who's gone, Gaia? You have to tell me.”

“My father. He's gone, Sam....He's gone again.”

“It's okay,” Sam whispered, tightening his arms around her as she curled up inside his embrace. He swallowed. He was here now. Here to hold her for as long as she needed. “It's okay. I've got you, Gaia. I'm—”

“No,” Gaia choked out, shoving Sam away and scrambling to her feet.

Sam gaped at her, uncomprehending. “What?” he whispered.

“That's the problem, Sam. You're here now.”

“What...what are you talking about?” he asked.

“You're here, and then you're gone. Just like him. Just like my father.”

Sam shook his head rapidly. “It's not at all what you think, Gaia. I can explain. That's all over now. That's why I'm here, to explain it all to—”

“Explain
what?
” Gaia interrupted. She savagely wiped her tears from her face and sniffed. “Explain that you haven't been yourself, that you've been avoiding me? Give me some lame excuse about some secret crisis you're going through? It's all bullshit, Sam!” Her voice rose to a shriek. “All of it!”

The words slapped him with an almost palpable force. He leaned back in the cushions, lips quivering. He blinked, searching for a response, a remedy,
anything.
But he couldn't deny what she'd said. Could he? He refused to let himself believe that their relationship had been damaged beyond the point of no return.
They were just getting started. They had an entire future together—a series of tender moments and intimacy and sharing, all laid before him in perfection, like the squares on a chessboard. He wouldn't let that slip away. It was more than a vision; it was reality. In the end, love could overcome deception. Especially when the deception was justified. . .

“I love you,” he heard himself say. It was all he had left.

But Gaia just laughed grimly. “Well. Look what all this love has done to me. It's made me
weak.
And I am not weak, Sam. I am not weak.”

Sam bit his lip, staring up at Gaia's wet face. She was without question the strongest girl he'd ever known— the strongest girl he ever
would
know.
And in that one brief moment of silence he fell twice as much in love with her.
As if moving in a dream, he stood up from the couch and stepped toward her. “Do you have any idea how much—”

“It
doesn't matter
,” Gaia spat. She moved away from him, inching in the direction of the door. “Not in the end. We have to start over. Alone. Apart. It's the only way.”

“Gaia—”

“No,” she stated, backing away until she was in the doorway. “You can pick any kind of story you want for me, for us, whatever. But my story always ends the same way, Sam. With me alone. That's the way it has to be. That's the only way I'll survive.”

“I won't let you,” he insisted, springing forward and grabbing her wrist. “You have to—”

“Let me
go!
” she howled, turning and striking his arm with her free hand. Her fingers struck a pressure point: A tingle shot down the entire length of his bone, and his arm seemed to go limp and numb. Sam's jaw dropped.

In that split second she flung open the door and ran.

Sam stood there, watching her disappear down the hall, clutching the spot where she'd struck him. His heart pounded; his head swam. He was left standing in the middle of this apartment. He knew he had to move, to chase her.

But he couldn't.

And there was one simple reason. The saddest possible reason.

She didn't want him to chase her. She didn't want him at all. Her actions had spoken for her.

The Zen Approach

“IS THIS SOME KIND OF JOKE?”
Loki hissed into the speaker phone as he paced the length of a Chelsea loft. The voice on the other end jabbered weak apology after weak apology,
but Loki was barely listening. What incompetency! A
cripple
overpowering his men for hire?
My God.
The botched kidnapping was so remarkable as to be almost comical.
Indeed, if the stakes weren't so high, Loki might simply have thrown back his head and had a good laugh at the image of Gaia's little paraplegic pal scampering out of his wheelchair and subduing two professional thugs. The kid had courage; Loki had to give him that.

And a pair of working legs as well, it seemed.

“You let her get away,” Loki snapped. He fired each word as if they were bullets, letting the full implication of the sentence sink in. Capturing Gaia should have been the least of his troubles. Far more challenging was the prison escape. Far more challenging was the very idea of winning Gaia back emotionally.

“Please,” the tinny voice on the other end pleaded. “You don't—”

“What am I paying you for?” Loki roared. He slammed his fist down on the top of a stainless steel desk. His blazing eyes swept the large, industrial space—with its twenty-foot-high ceilings and spare furnishings.

Everything was in order. Everything was just as he needed it to be. A leather-and-aluminum Mies van der Rohe couch. A glass coffee table. A fully stocked kitchen. Gaia's little room all ready for her, complete with fresh tulips in a Caledon vase. Loki had stipulated
his needs and been pleased to see how thoroughly his wishes had been granted, right down to the details of his particular aesthetic vis-à-vis home furnishings.

But without Gaia, there was no reason for any of it.

He picked up a glass ashtray and hurled it at the exposed-brick wall. It shattered with a violent crash, sending shards of glass flying.

“We know where she is,” the voice on the other end of the telephone broke in hurriedly. “She has been spotted crying on a bench in the park. She is there as we speak. Totally alone. And we can—”

“Alone?”

Loki straightened and turned with interest back to the speaker phone, breathing hard to dispel some part of his rage.
He needed to think clearly.
Gaia was supposed to be dining with Tom. Yet she was in the park. Curious.

“Crying?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. She seems very upset about something. We have our men ready to retrieve her on command.”

Loki thought for a moment. Then he smiled. “No. That will be all.”

“I'm sorry? You said—”

Loki disconnected the call, poured himself a glass of Riesling, and walked over to the windows. Perhaps the botched kidnapping had served a purpose after all.

The Zen approach.

Yes. . . if Gaia was crying alone in the park instead
of having cozy dinners with her father and boyfriend, then it seemed the world had disappointed her again. And indeed if that were the case, then there would be no need to continue with the kidnapping. Being captured would only alienate Gaia from Loki further. No.
He had to play this situation to his advantage.
She would come of her own accord. When she was ready. He sipped his wine thoughtfully, gazing out at the skyline twinkling from across the Hudson. New Jersey. Not the most splendid skyline in the world, but it would do for now.

We shall go with the flow.

Loki's smile widened as he thought of a moment in the not-too-distant future when he and Gaia would share a fine wine together. When she would let him comfort her. Soothe her fears and ease all of her doubts. Murmur sympathies for all the cruelty that had come her way. Reassure her that neither Tom nor Sam Moon would be able to hurt her anymore.