The Broken Sister Part 17

His face was wrinkled around the eyes and forehead. His mouth tightened. "Of course I know who you are, Kylie."

Her eyes stayed wide for an extended moment and then her eyes shut and her body sagged towards Tristan. He leaned closer, nearly supporting her. When she opened her eyes tears glistened in them. He almost dropped her, he was so startled. "I couldn't remember your voice. I just wanted... to... remember... it."

"I never thought I'd see you again."

"Do you want to see me again?"

"Badly." Simple. To the point. Micah then opened the door and said casually, "Would you... would you, please come in?"

She nodded, glancing up at him. The tears were gone, blinked back inside her, like everything else she always tucked back inside of her. Tristan followed behind them into the tight, small s.p.a.ce. Two mini-sized recliners and a small couch were available. They sat on the couch with Micah across from them.

Micah wiggled his b.u.t.t all around, his nerves evident until he suddenly jumped up. "Can I get you anything?"

"No. Just... just sit down."

He nodded. And did so, his hands rubbing back and forth on his jean-clad thigh. The nerves between them were excruciating.

Micah cleared his throat. She glanced at Tristan, her expression as puzzled as her dad's. They had no idea where to start, or what to say or even where to look. A decade apart and they had almost nothing to say to each other. Tristan gently nodded towards her dad and mouthed, Ask what he does? She jerked to attention at his prodding and nodded eagerly. Turning to her dad she said without a lead in, "What do you do? You know, for a living now?"

"I work. Out on this backroad where a lot of logging goes on, there is a small tavern. I tend to it most nights. Lots of logging goes on that way, and the crews come in most nights for drinks. It's out in middle of nowhere, really, so other than the loggers we don't see many people."

She tapped her index finger on her knee. Finally she said softly, "You didn't get very far in life. After all the money you stole and everything you did, it didn't do much for you, did it?"

"No. It didn't. And I ended up nowhere and with nothing. You're probably glad of that." His tone was tired and expression bleak. His tone didn't suggest he was being snarky, just tired. There seemed a weariness over the man's entire body, from the way he held his shoulders to the gray in his hair, to the sad, kind of decrepit trailer he lived in. His statement made Kylie unsure. Tristan could tell by the way her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed together. She wasn't good with people confronting her and she didn't really respond well to conflict, anger, or even this bitterness.

Tristan leaned over enough to take her hand in his. She grasped his fingers in hers with a desperateness a child might with a parent or teacher when they were unsure of a stranger. "No, she never once wished ill for you," he blurted out. He nearly pressed his fingers to his forehead. Did no one understand this girl? Of course she didn't wish this kind of loneliness or misery for him. She didn't wish ill to anyone as far as he'd yet found. She just wanted to show them forgiveness, kindness, the benefit of the doubt.

The only person Kylie McKinley didn't show that kind of compa.s.sion, empathy, or kindness to was herself. She was ruthless in judgement of herself.

Her glance was swift and surprised at his interruption and the irritation in his voice. Tristan grumbled, "What? I just don't get why no one else sees you're the kindest person on the planet. He should start right off knowing that. h.e.l.l, he f.u.c.king raised you, he should just know that about you."

A soft small laugh escaped Kylie's lips, easing some of the anxiety that sat on her features. "Thank you," she said simply.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Micah said.

"I'm Tristan, her boyfriend."

A small smile crossed Micah's lips as he shifted his gaze to Kylie. "I did raise you. Until you were ten. Do you remember that? Do you ever, in all your hatred and anger over how I left, remember the time before I left? When I was your father? Do you remember the epic games of Thirty-one we would play? You'd win as much as I would. We'd play for quarters and you'd often rake in five or more dollars. Do you remember that? I think about it, all of it actually... so often."

"I remember. You weren't letting me win? I never got old enough to ask you. I a.s.sumed as a child I was wining but when I got older I often wondered if you let me win."

"I never had to let you. You had this natural luck with cards and games, which was ironic because you were the least compet.i.tive of us all. That was always Ally. Any time you'd beat her, her face would turn red. Do you remember how many times she'd throw the dice or cards or game pieces down in a fit if she was losing too badly? She'd stomp off in a p.i.s.sy tantrum? We'd have to stop the game and go give her the usual good sportsmanship lecture? She'd finally come back out all sorry and feeling silly, but she'd do it the very next time she lost."

"Yes, I remember. You liked to play games with us."

"I did. It was an easy way to be with you. I worked so much, I wanted you to know me as more than the guy who came home late."

"We did. Maybe that was your mistake."

"I made so many I can't count. But being the best father I could while I was with you? Never. It was perhaps my only redeeming area of my life."

"A life that wasn't enough for you."

"A life I'd kill to have back. Years and years I've longed for it all back..." Micah straightened up. "What made you come here? I truly thought I'd never see either of you again."

"What made you leave?"

His facial expressions froze as his entire body sagged inches inside itself. "Yes, my entire life is defined by that mistake, isn't it?"

"It was a pretty big mistake," she answered after tilting her head as if to ask him how he could not know that.

"What can I say? What can I do? It was ten years ago. I don't know how to begin-"

"I always thought an apology might be nice."

Tristan had to lower his head and pretend to cough to hide his surprised scoff and the smile that crossed his lips. Her tone was so completely dry and almost casual. She also was pretty d.a.m.n good at cutting off the man's bulls.h.i.t.

Micah started nodding in response. "I'm sorry, Kylie. I should never have stolen that money. I should have never put our family in such a situation... and I should have never left like I did."

Kylie was still for a long moment. She licked her lips and then asked, "You know we had a lot of money. Why did you need to steal more?"

His laugh was bitter as he glanced around his current surroundings. "I didn't know we did. I was greedy, ambitious, and selfish. I thought I was owed real wealth, like that of the clients I only made richer. They had so much-"

"I doubt they sold their family to get it however."

Kylie had a way, Tristan marveled, at getting her point across with the gentlest, softest tone and with one sentence pointing out of the obvious. It was more effective than any amount of an angry display could produce. Her lack of getting emotional actually made her dry, clear-cut statements sounds that much more reasonable-and thereby pointing out how logical and correct they were.

Micah sighed and stared at his hands. "No. I didn't start out to do that. It started out small and mushroomed like a nuclear cloud. I lost so much and I panicked and at work I had access to money, I literally robbed Peter to pay Paul. I thought I could keep juggling it until I could get everyone paid back, but then it all came crashing down. When it started I never considered I'd lose you guys."

"You did it for our family?"

"I thought so."

"Were you always greedy?"

He snorted. His head was down but he shook it in affirmation. "Yes. I was raised by a selfish b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Your mother didn't let him around you girls much, so you don't know what I came from. I thought I was so much better than him. Turns out, I had more of him in me than I ever realized."

Tristan bit the inside of his cheek to keep his mouth from opening and spouting out the obvious argument to this: he didn't have to do it. Micah didn't need to blame his childhood or father for what he did. He did it. No one else. And from what Tristan could understand, there was no reason to. They had been an upper-middle cla.s.s and relatively affluent family. And most of all Micah had had a good family. He'd risked them to become a criminal.

He didn't have to do it... The statement struck Tristan hard. No, Micah didn't have to choose to do the wrong and immoral decision... just as Tristan didn't have to choose to. No matter the circ.u.mstances. There was right and wrong, and for a small, intense but important amount of time, he'd forgotten that and started to do the wrong thing about Kylie. He had only himself to blame for being in the position he was in with the girl he'd fallen for. It wasn't his grandfather... it was him. Now he didn't know what he was going to do to fix the wrong he'd started.

"Why did you leave like you did? How could you leave Mom a note? She would have stuck by you. She loved you. We all did-" Kyle's voice broke and she stopped talking. Her breathing had escalated. Tristan squeezed her fingers. She glanced at him and took in a deep breath.

"I was scared," Micah finally answered. "I wish there was a more profound answer for you. I wish I had more n.o.ble reasons. But... I was just mostly scared."

"Of what?"

"Prison. That's it. Why I ran. I was scared of going to prison. And it turned out I ended up there anyway and I had good reason to be scared. It was a bad experience. I can imagine the level of hatred you and your sister have for me. But if it's any comfort I suffered in prison. It did its intended job of punishing me."

Her fingers gripped Tristan's harder, nearly turning pink and white at her fingertips. She had her eyes lowered to stare at her feet. "It is not a comfort." Kylie's tone was oddly quiet and controlled. Yes, Tristan wanted to say, because Kylie would never wish anyone pain, even the man before her now.

She licked her lips. "I think after you left, for me I was kind of in a prison myself. You were there and then you were gone and I've never learned to trust that any person won't just disappear again. Even if I know better. But the thing is, I thought I knew better with you."

Micah cleared his throat and shifted his b.u.t.t around where he sat. His distress and discomfort obvious. "I'm sorry for that."

"Did you think about us?"

"Yes."

"But it didn't make you want to come back to us?"

"I knew I couldn't. I knew that Tracy would never let me."

She bit her lip. She raised her gaze and pinned her father with it. "Did you love me?"

His mouth opened and then closed. His surprise at her question was evident. "I did. I do still. I always loved you. I loved your sister and I loved your mom. I just made mistakes and it got out of hand and there was no going back."

"Did you say goodbye to me? Was there any significant moment before you left that was actually you saying goodbye to me?"

"Yes." He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. "But you wouldn't remember it. The night before I left I came into your room, after you were asleep, Ally too. I sat there for maybe an hour and watched you sleep. I kissed you and hugged but you only shuffled around in your sleep. I hoped someday you'd forgive me."

She withdrew her hand from his. "And yet you could still leave?"

"Looking back, it was a stressful moment in my life. I was high on adrenaline. I had gotten found out but the cops hadn't arrested me yet. They were going to, and the more days I lived with that knowledge the more and more scared I got. It was almost a panic. I had to get away from there. The house. Not to get away from you guys; no, that wasn't it at all. It was a desperate, panicky need to get away from where I could get arrested. To escape. It wasn't about getting away from you. It was never about you. It was this fear propelling me forward. I didn't think about it. I mean, I just kind of did it. I didn't begin to comprehend I was actually abandoning my family, or losing my kids for the rest of my life."

Kylie was back to folding her hands together and staring at them. "That makes a little sense."

"But it doesn't excuse it," Micah said it softly.

Kylie lifted her head after a pause. "Where is your wife? How did you meet her?"

He sighed. "She left. We met after I got out of prison. She was more into drugs than me. Anyway..."

"So in the end all it got you was to end up broke and all alone?"

He shut his eyes and drew in a breath and slowly shook his head in confirmation. There was no glee or satisfaction in Kylie's voice. Minutes ticked by. Silence was awkward and cold once again. There was no satisfaction for Kylie in any of his answers. But she didn't rise to her feet either, to leave.

"Can I ask? What are you up to? What happened to you? Your sister? How are you?"

She took in a breath. His question surprised her, and affected her. He could tell by the sudden biting of her lip and shaking of her head. Finally she said, "I'm a student. I go to a small university in Marsdale."

Micah's gaze flipped up to Kylie when she spoke with casual politeness and respect. "I remember it. Peterson."

"Ally goes there too. She'll graduate at the end of this year."

"Impressive. Your mom... she married Donny, huh?"

"Yes. He was there for us when you left. It took Donny years to begin to recoup what you lost and stole from him, financially."

"I'm aware. I asked him to be there for you guys. I never dreamed..."

"No one did. But she deserved to do whatever she needed to do. You weren't there. You don't have any idea how you broke her heart. It was years after you left, and I mean years, before she fully put it all behind her. Even after she was with Donny, she still loved you."

He closed his eyes and nodded slowly as Kylie spoke. Tristan found it interesting she could get so angry on behalf of her mother but not herself. "I doubt you'll believe me, but it broke my heart too."

"I don't know. Maybe I care. Maybe I want to believe you so I can believe that my entire life wasn't really a lie. But how it ended, it's hard to believe in anything. You and Mom seemed like the real thing. I know she was real, so it's scary for me the kind of show you could put on as a loving husband and father."

"It wasn't a show."

Kylie shrugged, her shoulders rising and falling in a listless, pa.s.sionless response.

"Kylie, you turned out really beautiful. I know this is all a lot. There are no words or conversation that can change what I did. But I'd do anything to repair this with you... and with Ally. Would you-Is there even a chance you could ever do that?"

She closed her eyes and slowly lowered her chin down to her chest. Any other girl would be crying or tearing up about now. Tristan knew the fist of anxiety and pain in her chest. He could predict how sharp this would feel to her... and that her natural compa.s.sion would win out over her internal anger. "Yes." Her voice was barely audible to them and she didn't meet anyone's gaze.

"Yes...what? You could consider forgiving me?"

"I could consider letting you work towards it."

He nodded eagerly. Tristan understand the man was sorry, he had suffered, but his pain and sorrow and apologies were still skewed towards himself. He had a selfishness that edged his words, his actions and his regret that still was tinged with blame and excuses. He wasn't the kind of person Kylie was. He was a little smarmy. A little like Tommy. Tristan jerked upright at the comparison. Tommy? He shook his head, wondering where that came from.

But if Micah could give Kylie back some of what he stole from her, Tristan was all for that. She had punished herself long and hard for what this man did to her and stole from her. And money was the last thing on the list of his things he stole.

"Do you think your sister...?"

"No. I don't. She's in the right. Leave her alone. I'm the one who can't seem to let it go. I want to learn. To let it go. Find a way to believe all men aren't like you. All people I let into my life won't do what you did."

Micah glanced at Tristan. Tristan stared the f.u.c.ker down. He fisted his hand. Wishing he could smash it in his face, just for old times' sake. For what Micah did to her. For what his actions led to.

"Maybe spending time together would help with that," Micah suggested. His tone was hopeful.

"Yes, maybe. Maybe we could meet for dinner or something sometime."

He nodded eagerly. "I would love that."

She got to her feet. "I'll call next time." He eagerly provided his cell phone number and she gave him hers. Then she allowed him to kiss her cheek and pat her arm. Her shoulders wilted after he shut the aluminum door behind them. She walked with her head down, shoulders forward, hands tucked in her pockets to the car and slid in. Tristan followed her lead. She was quiet for hours. He stopped for gas and offered her up some snacks and drinks, but he knew she'd refuse. He stopped and got himself some fast food. She didn't even look over when he did so. He didn't even ask her this time. She finally closed her eyes and slept.

His stomach was in knots. He'd pressed her to do this. What if he'd ruined her emotional balance? What if she resented him? Thought what? What did she think? He couldn't really say for sure. Maybe that's the draw to Kylie, he never could fully say. She kept so much of her emotions so tightly held inside her. But then, when she let any pieces out he felt like he'd collected diamond shavings off a beach.

Then she said softly, "He isn't at all like I remembered him."

"What did you remember?"

"He was confident. He smiled a lot. He was safe. I used to feel safe. You know that moment when your whole family was together at the end of the day?"

"No, I never had that kind of family. We existed together, we didn't spend time together. There was no family unit. There was no safety in my family. Just distress." He'd never trusted his family, except his grandfather. He realized it the minute she described it. He'd been weary and self-reliant since he was a kid. It was expected. It was how it was. He realized now however, he had the kind of personality to rise to the challenge. He was self-sufficient and quiet. He got good grades without any help. He didn't need a lot of emotional support or help from others to succeed.

But Tara needed it. She'd needed validation, care, love. It hadn't been given to her. Just the cold, picky disinterest of his mother and a father who was never there. What about Tommy? He'd been a loud child. Easy to anger and he screamed a lot. They gave into his demands to pretty much shut him up. He had been given whatever he wanted whenever he demanded. Anything from the food he wanted to the toys he proclaimed he needed. He'd not be punished or penalized when he broke them or abused them on purpose. He'd been as ignored as Tristan and Tara. Tristan's heart twisted. They had never been made to feel safe. And his sister had gone out in the world, finding it with all the wrong boyfriends and self-medicating, while Tommy thought the next party or girl or friend or car he wanted would soothe whatever lacked in him. And Tristan? He strived to please the one man who took an interest in him, no matter what was asked of him.