A Purple Winter Page 15

  “What’s so special about it?” Lloyd stepped away, walking back to his safe spot behind the bar.

  Nick laughed, his laughter booming across the little dining room. “We’re alive, man. Ain’t that special enough?” He wrapped his arm around David’s shoulder, and then a storm blew through his eyes. He’d seen David’s bruised eye. “What happened?” He grabbed David’s chin with his free hand. “Did your son of a bitch dad—”

  “Yes…but I hit him back this time.” David moved out of Nick’s arm and walked to the swinging door.

  Nick stared at me with eyes full of questions.

  “I don’t kno—ow,” I said softly.

  He frowned, then pushed the door open by David. We entered the kitchen. It was small and spotless, with stainless steel counters and four gas ovens on which stood eight big pots. “Through here.”

  “Where’s everybody?” David glanced around the vacant premises.

  “Oh, Helen gave people off because of the storm.” Nick grabbed a tray of thinly sliced bread pieces. “Croustinis.” He led the way down a narrow hall full of tray holders. We passed the fridge door, and at the end of the hall, near an office, he stopped. Esco was barking in there. “He might jump you. He’s gotten real territorial lately.” Through the door, Nick said a few words in Norwegian to the dog, then carefully opened the door and entered the room.

  David and I both drew back, prepared to be attacked.

  “Stille,” Nick said, putting the tray down on a cluttered table. “Be cool now, Esco.”

  But Esco wasn’t being cool. He was barking his head off, growling and circling David. But not me. Hesitating, I took a step to the dog. “Hey…b—buddy.” Esco calmed down and trotted to me, his little tail swinging. He licked my hand, wrist and then jumped on my legs, sniffing my crotch.

  “Well. Well. Well.” David shook his head, watching the dog hump my leg. “Did the mutt learn that from you, Nicolai?”

  Nick jerked the dog’s collar. “Don’t do that to him,” he said, his cheeks turning darker.

  Embarrassed, I looked around the room. How could Nick live here? There wasn’t even a window. It was brown and small and furnished only with a cot and a table. My basement bedroom was less depressing than this space.

  “So…you live here? She lets you stay here when the restaurant is closed?” David leaned back against the wall, eying Nick suspiciously. “And you have the key. Access to the food. The booze. Just like that. That’s a lot of trust she’s giving you.”

  Nick was pouring whiskey into paper cups. “Uh, yeah, sure.” He offered one to each of us. “Cheers. Thanks for coming.” He sipped his drink and grimaced, then looked at me. “You Irishmen sure know how to make a good whiskey.”

  “Are you having nauseating and nasty straight sex with this woman?” David didn’t drink. He set his cup down on the table.

  Sensing another one of their battles, I sipped my drink. It was smooth and warm and tasted a little like wood. I enjoyed it. I took another deep gulp of it, waiting for what would happen next.

  “I asked you a question, Lund.” David wouldn’t back down. I was glad. I was curious about this Helen, too. “Is that why you’re here? Are you her kept boy?”

  “Ah, well, shit, if I’m kept, then she ain’t keeping me too good, now is she?” Nick opened his arms, gesturing to the tiny room. He downed his drink and poured himself another. “Now drop it. I don’t wanna fight with you, Davie.”

  I picked up the bottle and poured a lot of whiskey in my glass. I was already feeling the effects of the alcohol, and finally, my nerves were letting out a little. I was calm and warm, untouched by the storm brewing. David was confronting Nick for me. He was asking the questions I wouldn’t have to ask him later. Was it fair to David? No. But he was much more courageous than I’d ever be.

  “Yeah, you don’t care, anyway.” David snatched the bottle off the table and took a swill right out of it. “As long as you get what you want in the end. It’s all about the Nick Lund show.”

  I swallowed and shot Nick a look, checking for his reaction.

  “All right,” Nick said, under his breath. He turned away and bent to the dog, petting Esco’s head. The dog was content, chewing on a toy, clearly enjoying Nick’s fingers in his short fur.

  “Answer me, Nicolai!” David yelled, his pale face filling with color. “Do you give a shit about anything except yourself?”

  Nick’s shoulder tensed under his white T-shirt. He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and when he spoke, his voice was low and restrained. “Says the guy with the Loyola education, trust fund, and talent.”

  David flinched, his breath catching.

  “You turn eighteen next week,” Nick went on, with his back to us, still petting Esco’s head, but his hand was shaking a little. “You’re gonna withdraw that cash, get on a plane, and go be whatever you wanna be. A nudy dancer. An actor. A ballet star. Or a corpse. Nobody’s gonna stop you. All you have, is opportunities. You have so many, you don’t even know which one to waste first.”

  I clutched my paper cup, making a dent in it. The electricity in the air was making my nerves sizzle.

  “I don’t even have a high school diploma,” Nick said, finally looking over his shoulder. “I can’t fucking read or write. So excuse the shit out of me for trying to grab at life with greedy hands while I still have a chance to.”

  My heart jumped up in my throat. I wanted to reassure him. Tell him he’d go further than any of us, but David spoke first. “You know, you’re quick to remind me of all the money and future I have, but you know what, Lund? That came at a price. Huh? Right? Look at me. Look at my fucking face and tell me I have it easy!”

  Nick was quick to get to his feet. He reached out for David. “I know—I know—”

  “God, Lund, my uncle fucked me when I was thirteen years old.” David’s voice broke and he shook his head, holding a hand up to stop Nick dead in his tracks. “To hell with you.”

  “Davie…” Nick’s voice was soft as he took a step in David’s direction. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you this week. I’m sorry. I got caught up in my own crap.”

  David stared at Nick, his eyes glistening with tears.

  “Come on, now,” Nick said, rubbing David’s shoulder. “Let’s not turn on each other. Man, Davie, I do give a shit. I give a shit, okay?” He grabbed David’s head and looked him in the eye. “I care. I do.”

  “Oh, you and those haunting blue eyes.” David gently pushed Nick’s hands off his face and laughed dryly. “How can anyone stand up to you?”

  “You don’t need to stand up to me.” Nick offered David his drink. “Just stand by me, and everything’s gonna be all right.”

  “Yes…and what about this one?” David tossed his chin up in my direction. “Hm, Lucky? Not a word out of you, and yet, I bet if you asked Thor here to steal the sun out of the damn sky for you, he’d find a way to do it.” He raised a brow at Nick. “Right?”

  Nick blushed a little, but wouldn’t answer David’s question. My heart was thundering so hard, I had trouble keeping my breaths even. The room was stuffy, and the air, full of dust. I needed to get out of here. I brushed by David at the door and stepped out into the cooler hall, leaning my back against the wall, trying to take one deep breath. Not now. Couldn’t have an asthma attack now. I had my inhaler in the inside pocket of my coat, but I wouldn’t use it yet. I could keep this under control. I shut my eyes and visualized my airways blooming like flowers, the air flowing in and out of my chest, freely, softly, without force or trouble. It was a trick my Aunt Fran had taught me.

  “Hey, are you all right?” Nick stepped out, followed by David. “O’Reilly? Look at me.”

  “Leave him alone.”

  “No…Open your eyes.” Nick was touching my hair. “Open your eyes.”

  I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t open my eyes. They couldn’t make me. No one could make me. I shut my eyes harder, the darkness soothing me, wrapping its black wings around my frenzied mind.<
br />
  “He’s wheezing,” I heard David say. “He has asthma. Where’s his thing—that pump?”

  There was a weight on my chest. I was sinking into the wall, my body fusing with the plaster and plywood. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t open my eyes. Couldn’t breathe. Something was in my nose. My throat. My heart beat so fast and furiously, but its beat was electronic, the sound chiming somewhere in the darkness. I could hear it now, so loud and alarming. A monitor beeping somewhere.

  “Oh, no, no,” Nick was gripping my shoulders. “O’Reilly, look at me. Look at me, don’t you—”

  “Here! His medicine. Stick it in his mouth and push on this thing there.”

  But my mouth was full of plastic and my nose was blocked and I couldn’t inhale or exhale on my own. Couldn’t get any air. What were they doing to me? Why were they choking me this way?

  Nick’s fingers were forcing my lips open. “Derek, please, breathe. Breathe, Derek, breathe.”

  Something was jerked out of my throat, burning and tearing my esophagus along the way. And at the sound of my first name on Nick’s lips, my eyes popped open.

  “Yes. Okay, yes.” Nick’s eyes were wide with panic. “Now take a hit of this thing. Come on, now. One big hit.”

  I sucked on the inhaler. Once. Twice. The Ventolin cleared a passage through my airways. I was breathing again. On my own.

  “Oh, man,” Nick moaned, leaning his hand on the wall next to my head and closing his eyes. “Thank you.”

  “Take another one.” David gently brushed my hair away from my forehead. “For good luck.”

  Moments later, the crisis was over and I tucked the inhaler back into my coat, then slipped my coat off.

  David and Nick were watching me with awe. Then David cracked a sardonic grin and looked over at Nick. “Well, the man doesn’t say much, but he sure knows how to get your attention.”

  “Yeah…” Nick let out a long breath, as though he’d been saving up air for me. “So what now, O’Reilly?”

  I looked into the small room at our right, at the whiskey bottle, and the dog sleeping on his improvised mat. Somehow, this room was enough. It was perfect, actually. I wanted only to shut myself in with David and Nick, and that bottle, and let the night dictate the rest. “Let’s par—arty,” I finally said, smiling at them.

  Chapter 19

  That was the most terrifying experience of my life.

  But you pulled through, O’Reilly. You’re such a fighter.

  Baby, you’re breathing on your own. No more ventilator. They took the tube out. They tell me you could come around any day now. And I want to believe them, but yet every time I think I feel you coming back to me, you slip away again. I can touch your lips now. See the shape of your nose. Do you know you still take my breath away, lying here, unconscious? I want to crawl into this hospital bed with you and fall into a coma, too. Want to be where you are. Want to see what you see. It’s close to midnight. Everyone left. They need to rest. And I need to be alone with you. I need to tell you something. Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you can hear me. Just…move your finger. Open your eyes…

  Four days, Derek. Four days of praying to a God I suddenly need to exist.

  I’ll be patient, my love. As you were so many times for me. I won’t push you anymore. You were always trying so hard to keep up with me, to please me, and I built myself up on your shoulders. No more of that. You call the shots. You come back to me, when you’re good and ready to come back.

  And I’m just going to sit here. Just going to sit here and wait to see the green of your eyes. If it takes forever, then I’ll sit here forever.

  I can’t leave you. Though I’ve left you so many times before. Physically, yes, but those weren’t the time that hurt you, now were they? No, what hurt you, was all those times I wasn’t there for you emotionally.

  Derek…

  Derek…Please forgive me. In your heart, that pure heart I took for granted too many times. Please give me absolution. For my sins. For my great fucking sins. Forgive me my prideful ways. My stubbornness. My unquenchable and goddamn thirst for life. I wanted everything, you know that, and I got all of it, and more.

  And now I want none of it. The million-dollar house. The Jaguar. The trips. The restaurant. The business. It’s all so…childish and vain.

  Hold me in your arms, again, Derek. Kiss me. Tell me I’m being grandiose again. Tell me I’m making you insane. Tell me to go fuck myself.

  But say something.

  I’m not giving up on you. Do you hear me, Derek O’Reilly?

  I’m not giving up on you.

  Chapter 20

  “This room feels like its own universe.” Sitting beside me on the cot, David leaned his head against the wall behind us, looking over at me with drooping lids. “It’s the Nick Lund effect. Everywhere he settles, he transforms, every single thing he touches, he consumes.”

  We’d been acting up all evening, running around the empty restaurant, dancing, and drinking, before sitting down to a feast Nick had whipped up for us. Nick kept saying it didn’t matter what bottles we were dipping into and what food we ate, but I had a feeling he’d be in serious trouble tomorrow.

  “You can feel his presence everywhere in this room.” David scoffed. “You think he’s fucking his boss, that chef?”

  Nick was presently on the phone with Chef Helen. I could hear him in the hallway, speaking low, his voice coming and going as he paced the hall, but try as I might, I couldn’t make out the words. He seemed to be comforting her.

  “Look at this.” David lifted some magazines off a large hardcover book the size of a phone directory. “Professional Cuisine,” he read the title and put the heavy book on his lap, flipping through its glossy pages. “This is a serious book. It’s like the bible of the culinary arts or something.”

  “Look.” I leaned closer. “No—otes in the—the margins.”

  David’s expression turned serious, his eyes meeting mine. “He’s been reading this. Even making notes.” He frowned, a shadow moving over his face. “Can you imagine the dedication it takes? I mean—he’s severely dyslexic.”

  For a moment, we both leafed through the massive book and I knew David shared my awe of Nick’s ambition.

  “That’s who he is.” David put the book down on the floor next to our stretched legs. “Nick sets his mind to something, accomplishes it, and doesn’t even brag about it.” He sighed, looking at me again. “But I think somehow…you’re the same, aren’t you, little boy?” David leaned in, drew his knees up and sat with his arms wrapped around them. Once in a while, Esco would trot by the doorway, following his master up and down the hall. “I see the way Nicolai looks at you.” Then David shot me a grim look over his shoulder. “You’ve enchanted him. The game’s over for me.”

  I wanted to give him some kind of reassurance, but the words wouldn’t come.

  “It’s all right,” David said. “I told you he needed someone to watch him do great and impossible things, and Lucky, I believe you’re that man.”

  “David…” I touched his shoulder. “I—”

  “Hey, a gentleman must know when to disappear.” David suddenly turned around, crawling back to me, until we were face to face. “Nick thinks I need him to take care of me. But what he doesn’t know yet, is how much he needs you.”

  Why was David saying this to me now? We could be friends, all three of us, and David didn’t have to leave. Why did the story have to end with a goodbye? “He ne—eeds you—ou, too,” I sputtered, grabbing David’s hand on the cot. “You’re his be—be—best friend.”

  “I can’t stay here anymore, Lucky. I have to go. Have to let it…play out.” His dark eyes were fixed to my face, bright and fierce. Slowly, the room, walls and everything, seemed to dissolve around his pale face. “And you need to go back to him now, Lucky. The dream is over…”

  I’d had too much whiskey. Needed some water. Some fresh air. I broke away from David and stood up, holding on to the wall for support. In the
door, I came face to face with Nick. “Going somewhere?” he asked with a smile.

  At the sight of Nick’s electric blue eyes, my nausea vanished.

  “You were on the phone with her a long time,” David rose as well and picked up his long black coat, throwing it over his shoulders. “What’s the deal between you two?”

  I watched Nick’s face, trying to read the look in his eye. He went to the cot, plopped down on it, and of course, Esco ran up to him, jumping on his lap. Lucky mutt. “She’s my boss and she’s teaching me things, that’s all.” Nick grabbed the Connemara. The bottle was half finished. “But she gets upset sometimes. ‘Cause her husband’s basically an asshole and she needs a shoulder to cry on once in a while.”

  “I see, and of course, you’re that shoulder.” David laughed dryly. “My God, how old is this chick?”

  Nick took a sip of the drink and grimaced, putting the bottle down. “I don’t know, like, maybe thirty or something.”

  “And she’s looking at you for support?”

  Nick tipped his head. “I’m a good listener.”

  David was holding back a smile. “I bet. Come on, Lund, cough it up. Are you sleeping with this woman?”

  Nick looked at me, his stare, warm and tender on my face. “Absolutely not,” he whispered, keeping his eyes on me.

  “But she wants you in her bed.”

  Nick shrugged, petting Esco’s head and ears. “Yeah, so what.”

  “Yeah, so what?” David chuckled, looking over at me. “See, Lucky, everybody wants him. He’s used to it. And I guess you’re gonna have to get used to it, too.”

  “Why do you have your coat on?” Nick asked. “Are you leaving already?”

  David stared into my eyes. “Yeah…It’s time for me to go.”

  I had a dark presentiment. Why did it feel like I’d never see David alive again? No, I was being melodramatic, my wild imagination getting away with me.