A Glimpse of the Dream, page 13
Kane
Her scent, that had haunted me all these years, still lingered. I wanted her. My body ached for her.
“Fuck.” Clenching my hands, I wanted to smash something, wanted to rage, but I’d been there, done that, and afterward I always had a mess to clean up that I couldn’t even see. My Tea had finally come home. Had finally learned my secret, and it revolted her—she couldn’t bear to look at me. I didn’t blame her, and yet the agony that sliced through me made the pain from my burns seem like nothing.
Needing a distraction so I didn’t tear my house apart and despite the fact that it was late, I started toward the backyard. I had spent years learning my house, how many steps to get to any room, to any spot on this island. The high bar I had installed between two large trees had seen me through so many bouts of anger. Pulling myself up was like second nature, curling and lifting, releasing.
How could I have known going into that building all those years ago would have changed my life so completely? Looking back on it, I hadn’t been focused. First rule of fire—complete focus. But I’d had Tea on my mind. She had said yes; she had agreed to marry me. I hadn’t stopped flying from the moment I’d slipped my ring on her finger. In truth, I’d felt almost invincible; she’d made me feel invincible. And when I saw the terrified face in the window, I didn’t even hesitate. How could I not try? It would have haunted me my whole life knowing I hadn’t done everything I could have. As it turned out, I was still haunted, but I’d also lost my life, or the one I had so very much wanted, the one that included Tea.
The fire had been so hot that every man who went in had to come back out, none even getting close to the girl. I didn’t think; I just ran in and managed to get through the blaze. There was only one kid left, barely a teenager, the O’Malley girl. She hadn’t run fast enough, and her friends, not much of ones, hadn’t waited for her. We had just reached the door when the beam fell. I feared she had been hit too, but I learned later she had gotten out.
Feeling my skin burning, the smoke suffocating me, I willed the fire to take me, to end it fast, and, even wishing for that, my eyes teared up, because I knew just how devastated Tea would’ve been from the loss, knew it because the idea of losing her was unbearable.
Lying in that hospital, I’d wanted to die. I was close, knew somehow that everyone was just waiting for me to die. I’d been conscious long enough to demand of Mrs. Marks that she not call Tea. She was horrified, outraged that I would deny Tea her chance at saying good-bye. But I remembered how much she had hated seeing her parents being buried. I wouldn’t do that to her, make her last memory of me in a box. I wanted her to see us swimming to our island or laughing over some joke we’d played on each other. I wanted her to remember my body over hers as I moved deeply inside her, connected and bound. I wanted her final memory of me to be on the side of that road when I dropped to my knee and asked her to marry me. I wanted her to remember all that was good and not me burned and broken.
Weeks later, when I was brought out of the medically induced coma, I opened my eyes and saw the same as when they were closed. The doctors explained the burns and the years of treatments I was going to need, explained that the blindness was permanent. I knew I had to set Tea free. At the sound of her voice when I called and told her I had found someone else, I heard her spirit die. I hated myself for that, would always hate myself for that. But she deserved more than the life that stretched out before me.
The pain of the recovery almost rivaled that in my heart. She never came. Even though I had told her I no longer wanted her, she knew how much I loved her—and yet she’d believed the lie. And it was then that I realized she had already been pulling away—not taking my calls, not coming home for Thanksgiving when she had been so upset about leaving me only three months before. Even the way she handled my defection had been almost callously cool. Being away from me, and around so many others with similar interests, she had finally realized that I was just a convenience. I would have dragged my body to the cliff and walked off it, had I been able to see, had I not been as helpless as a child: dependent on everyone around me.
Two years after the fire, Mrs. Marks finished what I had started. I hadn’t initially gone off with Tea when she’d moved to Boston, because I’d needed six months for the plans for our house. Mrs. Marks offered me the island, but I wanted to pay for the house myself. I had hired an architect to draw up the plans for the house that Tea and I had both envisioned. I’d intended to show up in Boston with the blueprints to our home, my engagement gift to her. After the fire, Mrs. Marks found them and had the house built. She gave me part of our dream. Mrs. T came to clean and bring me groceries, my nurse stayed with me for years, helping me to adapt to not only the blindness but the limitations of my body due to the scars. That was one thing I could change; I worked out, rebuilt the muscles, forced my body to adapt.
The town had given me a rather large settlement. I didn’t want it. What was the point of it when I couldn’t leave my fucking house and the person I wanted with me was far away? So the money sat in my bank account collecting interest.
I was haunted by the memory of my last encounter with Tea when she’d returned home from school. Hearing the heartbreak and pain in her voice at seeing me, I knew I had been wrong, that she had loved me as I did her.
But I had ceased being the boy she’d loved. There was nothing I could give her, and taking her away from the life she was building for herself so she could become a hermit with me was selfish. I felt guilty about lying to Tea, telling her my nurse was Doreen, and worse, my wife, but I’d had to get her to go, and I didn’t know how else to make her. In that moment, I was glad for my blindness. Seeing the look on her face, and knowing I’d caused it, would have broken me. She was better off without me, there was no doubt in my mind and heart about that. But hearing her, being near her, only reinforced the simple truth: how much I had missed her, wanted her, only her, always her.
Her words to me earlier, about how I had broken her and callously turned away from her, tormented me. My intention had been to spare her pain, not cause it. I had known my actions from all those years ago would’ve initially caused her pain, but I’d really believed she would have moved on and found happiness again. She hadn’t, though, and I didn’t need the words to know the pain she still felt—her voice dripped with it. It took every shred of willpower I possessed to not pull her into my arms at the boatyard, the same reason I’d had to put the distance of the room between us just now. I wanted her, but I wasn’t just burned and blind, wasn’t just battling all the insecurities that came along with my life now. I had other lingering problems from the trauma that made me unfit to be around people. Limited exposure was okay, but building a life with Tea when I was so fucked up was not fair to her, despite how much I still really wanted that.
I dropped from the bar, my muscles sore and tired, and yet still my body ached for her. Moving to the bathroom, I turned on the water and stripped. I liked the water as hot as I could stand it, because it forced me to feel. A dispenser for soap and shampoo hung from the wall, something Mrs. T filled for me during her weekly visits. Feeling the cold liquid in my palm, I massaged it into a lather before wrapping my hand around my erection, my other hand pressing against the tile, my head lowered as I thought of my Tea.
Teagan
I lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling. I’d cried so hard and for so long, I was numb. Shock had settled in, part of the reason the pain I had felt seeing Kane’s scars had ebbed.
Maybe it was wrong of me to feel anger, but I did. I should have been at his side, and instead he had pushed me from his life—not just pushed but ripped me out of it. I understood, as much as I hated it, what had motivated him. Had it been me, I would have done the same, spared him from the agony and horror, and yet I was still pissed.
Blind. I still couldn’t quite believe it. He walked around very well for a man who couldn’t see. For someone like him to have to live in perpetual darkness—someone who loved looking out at the sea, loved watching the sun rise and set, loved seeing the world—was cruel.
He’d gone into a burning building to save someone. That was my Kane. Always the first to lend a hand, always offering so much of himself. And despite how it all turned out, love burned in me to know that the boy I adored was still there, in the man he had become.
How had he survived the nightmare? Even trying to put myself in his shoes, I knew I couldn’t possibly appreciate the terror he must have felt and lived through for so long. And was still living through, being forced to learn how to live with limitations he never thought he’d have.
Wanting to understand, wanting to find that connection, I stood and closed my eyes. Trying to walk to my door, I hit my shin on the corner of the bed and nearly face-planted when my toe got caught on the edge of the rug. It was too easy, though. I knew this room. Making my way to a wing of the house I didn’t know as well, I kept the lights off, closed my eyes, and tried to find my way back to the stairs. At first, I thought I could do it, but I got disoriented, my hands reaching out for something, anything, to give me some indication where I was in relation to the door. Panic gripped me, the darkness so complete, so scary and lonely. The urge to open my eyes was strong, but Kane would never be free of the dark. My heart was pounding in my chest, and an icy chill covered my skin. True fear filled me, overwhelmed me, nearly crippled me. Even being in a room full of people, you could feel all alone: Who was near? How did you get out if you needed to? How did you find your loved ones? I couldn’t even find my way out of a room in a house I had grown up in. I fumbled around in that room for God knows how long, but I never made it to the door. Anguish accompanied my fear even knowing that Kane was adapting and learning how to compensate for his blindness. And he had learned all of this while healing for years from those burns. How much pain had he been in? And he had no ability to draw comfort from the faces of those he loved.
Defeated, I opened my eyes and made my way to the kitchen and lit a burner on the stove. I watched the blue flame come to life, grow strong. I placed my arm over it, but I couldn’t hold it there longer than a few seconds. The pain was excruciating, and the smell . . . Tears I didn’t think I had left to cry started filling my eyes again. This burn was small and it still hurt like a mother. Half of Kane’s back and chest were scarred. The fact he’d survived the pain alone was a testament to his strength. Tending my wound, I waited for morning before returning to Kane.
As his house came into view, my heart stopped beating in my chest. The house was painted green with window boxes gracing the front windows. He had built our house. Climbing from the boat, I walked to the front door and knocked. Zeus came from around the back.
“Hey. Your daddy here?” I asked, scratching behind his ear.
Following him around back, I found Kane doing pull ups on a pole anchored between two trees. The memory of him doing this when we were younger nearly brought me to my knees. We were older, different, and yet the continuity of seeing him doing something so familiar comforted me. Like in our youth, his muscles bunched and corded as he curled up and down, though they were significantly larger now.
“Kane.”
His body tensed a second before he dropped to the ground. “What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk.”
“Not sure what there is to say,” he said and reached for his towel, a clear dismissal.
“Really, nothing to talk about? The boy I loved is injured and blind and I, too, was left in the dark for nine years, but there’s nothing to say?”
“For what purpose, Teagan? Your life isn’t here anymore.”
The fact that I didn’t shoot fire from my eyes with my fury was amazing. “It isn’t here because you pushed me away. I don’t have the burns or the blindness, but I suffered all these years too.”
“They didn’t expect me to live. I didn’t want you to watch me die. I couldn’t let that be the final memory you had of me.”
“But you lived and still you made no attempt to reach out to me. Why?”
“I didn’t want this life for you.”
“It wasn’t your call to make. If you really had died . . .” My sob came out in a gasp, tearing at my throat, making it so hard to get the words out. “I would have wanted to be there right at your side, would have wanted you to feel me there, would have wanted to be able to tell you how much I loved you. I would have wanted to watch as you left this world and maybe a little part of you would have stayed with me, in me.”
“I didn’t want your last memory of me to be ugly.”
“There is nothing about you that is ugly. Watching as you moved on to whatever is out there wouldn’t have been ugly, it would have been beautiful, life changing, heartbreaking, soul stealing, but not ugly. When I came back four years later, why didn’t you tell me then?”
A single tear rolled down his cheek. “I can’t be what you deserve. Eventually you would have figured that out.” Before I could say anything, he continued. “It took years for me to heal, years of pain and agony, completely at the mercy of everyone around me. I didn’t want that life for you, didn’t want to strap you to an invalid. And maybe it was vanity, but I didn’t want you to see me like that, to see what I had become. I wouldn’t have needed to see to feel your pity. I didn’t want that. Not from you. I begged Mrs. Marks to tell you I’d died, but she wouldn’t. That was her line in the sand. So I had to improvise.”
“Who was the woman?”
“My nurse. You have no idea how many times I’ve played that conversation over and over again in my head. Telling the one person I wanted most that I didn’t want her. It took everything in me not to grab you and never let go. But then reality returned, and I knew that tying you to me, to this life . . . you deserved better than that.”
“And Doreen?”
“I knew you were jealous of her. I could hear it in your voice. My guess is it was as potent as my jealousy over Simon. I knew you’d believe me. Your emotions would make you believe the lie.”
“So you wanted a better life for me and, to do that, you broke my heart.”
“Watching me die would have broken your heart anyway, but it would have also left you with memories that would have haunted you for the rest of your life. What I did seemed the lesser of the two evils.”
“And what about what I wanted?”
“You wouldn’t have wanted me, Tea. You don’t want me now. You saw my scarred body and you ran. Who wants to be strapped to a blind, burned freak?”
“I didn’t run because of your scars. I ran because I had just learned that the boy—no, the man—I love, suffered horrendously. I saw the evidence of that suffering and broke down, completely lost my shit. You shouldn’t have pushed me away, should have trusted in what we felt for each other to know I would have never walked away.”
His voice cracked, his eyes drifting down. “Your rejection would have killed me.”
“Why do you think I would have rejected you?”
“Look at me!” he roared. “Who the fuck wants this?”
“Me, Kane, I do.”
“You should go.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“Leave! Just fucking go back to your life and forget me. Please just fucking forget me.”
“I can’t forget you. I’ve tried, believe me I have tried, but I can’t.”
“You deserve more than I can give you.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’ve got nothing, Tea.”
“You could have me. Once upon a time that meant everything to you.”
“Once upon a time, I was a whole man. I’m not that man anymore.”
“And that’s it? All those dreams we had as kids, you’re just willing to let them die? I don’t understand—you’re here, I’m here, I still love you. Why can’t we try?”
His next words were softly spoken, but there was no denying the finality of them. “I don’t want to. What we had is gone.”
My gasp came out, even though I tried to stop it. I had thought there was nothing more he could say to hurt me. Clearly I was wrong. I started to walk away from him but stopped myself because damn it, he was wrong. Turning back to him, he looked defeated: his head bowed and his hands resting on his hips.
“You’re wrong.”
His head jerked up.
“Maybe what was between us is over, maybe we really can’t go back, but telling me to walk away, to forget you, is wrong. We’re family, Kane, whether you want to accept that or not. Family pulls together during a tragedy, we don’t push each other away. Mrs. Marks is in the hospital and here we all are, together, praying for her recovery. That’s how it should have been with you too, and you damn well know it.”
I started away from him again, but I just wasn’t finished, so I turned back. “And it needs to be said, what you suffered through, what you endured all these years, I can’t even begin to imagine, but you act as if you’re the only one who suffered. I suffered too, Mrs. Marks, Mrs. T, and Mr. Clancy did as well. Not to the mention the strain you unintentionally put on my relationship with Mrs. T, forcing me to believe her grandniece was living my life. It isn’t all about you, Kane, it isn’t all about what you want—not when you belong to others, not when you mean something to people. You’re acting selfish and a bit cowardly and I have to say those are two characteristics I never thought would ever describe you.”
And then I walked away on unsteady legs.
“Jesus Christ.” Simon pulled a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth while we stood on the cliff overlooking the island. I had just told him about Kane
