Crash Page 12

  His arm slipped out of my grasp. “Then go.”

  I wasn’t prepared for the chill in his voice, the dead eyes, closing in front of me like shutters on windows. I dove off the bed and picked up my clothes, pulling them on. He was going to be like that? Fine.

  “Natalie.” Will’s voice cracked.

  I stopped dressing to look at him seriously. “Will, you can’t keep something like this to yourself. I can let a lot of stuff slide, but this isn’t one of those things.”

  Will half-rose from the bed. “Hey,” he said angrily. “You can’t blame me for this. I’m not ready to share every dark secret of mine with you.”

  “What do you expect me to do? You scream and have panic attacks, and I don’t have a right to know what’s causing them?” I laughed harshly. “You must be joking.”

  I seized my tank top and pulled it on. He sat on the bed, glowering at me under a curtain of dark hair.

  “Where the hell are you going to go? It’s the middle of the night.”

  “I don’t care,” I muttered, heading towards the bathroom to stuff everything into my suitcase. A part of me hoped like hell that he would change his mind.

  “Stop,” he said in a tremulous voice, which was suddenly a lot closer. His hand fell on my shoulder and I looked up into the bathroom mirror. His eyes were wide and terrified and I felt myself weaken.

  I revolved slowly on the spot and William held me against him, refusing to let me go. My eyes stung and I blinked furiously.

  “Please, don’t go. I’ll tell you what happened.”

  Chapter 8

  “It happened a few years ago when I was still in college at Stanford. My friends and I, we used to party a lot. None of us took school seriously. My best friend Dan and I were at a party away from campus. I drove there. We got completely shit-faced and then Dan and I wanted to drive to another party, but I was too drunk. I convinced him to drive instead. He couldn’t even walk to the car.

  “Everything was fine until we got off the highway and—and sped down the ramp. There was a sharp turn and it happened so quickly. We plowed into a group of people standing around a car.

  “I remember coming to and smelling the burnt rubber, smoke, and something metallic saturating the air. Dan was hunched over in his seat, but outside there was screaming—just the worst sound I’d ever heard. I climbed out of the window and saw that we’d crashed into a parked car. The ground was slippery. There was so much blood. A woman lay on the street with this gaping wound; her chest was torn open—I could see everything: her organs, her ribs. And then I tried to close her up—these huge flaps of her flesh I pinned together, but she was already—she was already dead.

  “There was screaming and I looked behind me. A little girl pinned under our car, as white as a sheet of paper. Her mother was crouching underneath—trying to lift it. Another person was pinned against the fence—he was definitely gone. I tried to save her. I lifted the car and her mother was able to drag her out, but she was so white and there was so much blood. Her lips kept moving and I held her hand. I still remember how tiny it was in mine. Her eyes never closed. She kept looking from her mom and back to me and then they froze inside her head and what little warmth was in her hand faded away.

  “My father hired the best defense lawyers money could buy and paid off a ton of news outlets so that his name—our name, would never get dragged through the mud. Dan got court-ordered rehab and never spent a day in prison. We settled with the families. I kind of went crazy for a little while and was committed. I had really severe PTSD and my girlfriend at the time dumped me. She couldn’t handle it. No one could. I never moved on. I could never get past it. How could I, when I killed those people?”

  Will finished speaking, his deadened voice echoing horribly in my head.

  I felt physically ill from all of the graphic descriptions of the bodies he and his drunken friend had mangled. It was much worse than I thought. I imagined what the scene must have looked like—limbs everywhere, chunks of flesh and blood painting the concrete, the girl trapped beneath the car.

  William had survived unscathed. It wasn’t fair. His face was twisted and red. His eyes burned holes in my head. “You can hate me if you want, I’ll understand. You can’t hate me more than I hate myself.”

  I searched myself for what I felt—I was confused, stunned, and sickened by the whole thing. I felt a flash of anger for how irresponsible they were—like Gatsby and Daisy, rich, reckless people destroying lives and retreating back into their wealth without a backwards glance. But Will isn’t like that. He feels remorse.

  “I think that the choices you made that night were awful. It was a terrible, terrible thing, but I don’t hate you, Will. I feel sorry for the families. And you.”

  He made no move to defend himself. I think if I stabbed him in the chest, he wouldn’t have stopped me.

  I stroked his hair. “You’re not a bad person, Will.”

  “I am.”

  “It wasn’t your fault. You weren’t the one driving,” I said softly.

  “It was my car,” he said in a sharp voice. “I convinced him to go. That doesn’t absolve me of all responsibility. If I hadn’t been such a stupid, selfish moron, those people would still be alive.”

  “What about the people at the party who watched two drunk people leave and drive away? They’re responsible, too. It’s not all on you.”

  The darkness in Will’s face lightened slightly. He looked up at me, slowly daring himself to believe me. “That’s true, but—”

  “It all makes sense now,” I sighed. “You won’t drink a drop of alcohol because you’re terrified that something bad might happen.”

  “What bothers me the most is that I never got to set things right. I was never allowed to apologize to them.”

  He was like a hollow shell—he always looked so empty when he talked about the accident. The light behind his eyes died. It scared me.

  “Are you in therapy?”

  “No.”

  “Why not? You need it, Will!”

  William rubbed his arm. “I can’t talk about it.”

  I stopped in front of him and took his shoulders, giving him a little shake. “You just did. Will, you’re having panic attacks all over the place. It’s not something that’s just going to fade away. You need therapy. Jessica’s in therapy, you know.”

  Will was looking anywhere but me. “Good for her.”

  “It helps.”

  “Nothing can help. I just have to live with it.”

  “Are you so horrible that you don’t deserve forgiveness? Visit the families. Apologize. Allow yourself to feel better.”

  “No,” he said, looking terrified.

  “You have to do it,” I said in a flat voice. “Or you’ll be miserable forever.”

  We both knew it was true. He would never be able to find a scrap of peace until he confronted his problems. Visiting them wouldn’t be easy. He would have to be prepared for the hatred that would be flung in his face. I tried to think about how I would feel if it were my family. Would I be able to forgive him? I don’t think so.

  “Maybe I deserve to suffer for what I did.”

  “That’s just your depression talking. You deserve peace. Will, I can help you with this. I want to see you get better.”

  He turned his back on me. “Can we please, please stop talking about it?”

  “Sure.” I sat behind him and wrapped my arms around his middle. It took a lot out of him to talk about what happened that night, and I wasn’t going to forget that. “Thank you for telling me.”

  “I’ll understand if you want to bolt. I’m giving you an out.”

  Am I willing to deal with years of being with an unhappy person? I hugged him tighter. I had hope for him. I could pull him out of the darkness. “No, I’m not going anywhere.”

  What he did was horrible, but William wasn’t that person anymore. He wasn’t a lost cause. I wouldn’t abandon him.

  He covered my hands with his and sighed
in relief. “I need to leave this place,” he said suddenly. “I need to see my dad in Chicago. Will you come with me?”

  My face burned. I wasn’t sure how I felt about meeting Will’s dad. “Well, sure—but what about the campaign?”

  “Luke will be upset, but I’m only going to Chicago to help him.” He gently disengaged from my arms and began to dress himself. “I just think I need to do something.”

  I picked at a spot in the bed sheets with my nail and glanced at him, only to look away when he met my eyes.

  “Spit it out.”

  “Why—why do you want me to go with you?”

  He thought about it for a moment and gave me a weak smile. “I paid you for three weeks work and we’ve only had sex once.”

  “You’re lucky that I have a sense of humor,” I groaned in frustration. “Be serious for once.”

  “I like having you around.”

  I stood up and took his body in my arms, nestling my head under his chin. His warmth was so comforting; I leaned into him and felt my chest expanding, like a balloon inflating inside my chest. I like being with you, too. “What will you tell your dad about me? I mean, technically, I’m working for you.”

  “Technically, you’re not working directly under me. Natalie, what are you really trying to ask me?”

  My face burned. The lilt in his voice suggested that he already knew what I wanted to ask him, but he was going to force it out of me anyways. I needed to know where this was headed. I wasn’t interested in a fling. “I want to know where this is headed, that’s all.”

  He sighed. “Only a week ago, you were upset with me because I talked to your ex-fiancé.”

  “You didn’t talk to him, you insulted him.”

  “Still.” He pulled away from me, frowning slightly.

  So, he still didn’t trust me. I guess I can understand that. “I really like you, Will. I want to be with you. I just don’t want to be used.”

  “Me neither.”

  I would never do that to you. I stood on my toes and kissed his mouth, feeling utterly giddy when he responded passionately, his arms circling my waist and tightening.

  “Okay,” he said when we broke apart. “Let’s get ready. I need to charter a flight out of here.”

  I was already mostly packed, so I walked to the bright lobby and decided to check my email. It was the crack of dawn. I ascended the stairs to the terrace with a plate of lemon cakes and coffee, and sighed at the magnificent sunrise. The dark blue sky was giving way to the stretch of bright orange on the horizon. Puffy, pink clouds hung in the rapidly lightening blue. The colors were slowly coming to life; the sun illuminated the brightly painted homes and the swirls of bright blue in the ocean. Such beauty just wasn’t possible. I took several pictures and attempted to sketch it, but stopped myself. It was more important to watch it. I felt an incredible sadness at the realization that I would soon leave this place. It was like going to paradise and being expected to return home to a world of concrete, and somehow be happy about that.

  I wiped away the tears on my face and checked my email. There were several from Jessica and a couple from Ben. I drew a sharp, painful breath and clicked on his email.

  Natalie,

  I was really upset to find out that you were seeing someone else on a tabloid website and I apologize if I came off a bit angry. I know that I did the same thing to you after we broke up, but I was just trying to move on. I really don’t think it’s fair that you’re doing this. We should have a discussion before you make a rash decision. We’ve been together for six years. Why can’t I have any say in what happens to our relationship? I am really depressed without you and I’ve been in therapy these past few weeks. I can’t move on. I feel sick to my stomach at the thought of you being with another man. Please call me when you get the chance.

  Love,

  Ben

  My heart hammered behind my chest. I didn’t like the guilty feelings swirling inside me.

  “It’s a load of crap.”

  I slammed down the cup of coffee and hissed as it spilled over the sides. Will stood next to me, as silent as a shadow, reading the email over my shoulder.

  “Do you mind?”

  He ignored me. “Click on the next one.”

  Will looked at me stonily, refusing to move from his spot. Whatever, fine. I clicked the next one. The tone of his next email was a lot angrier.

  Natalie, what the fuck?

  I feel like absolute shit and you probably have no idea. It really hurts that you would ignore me after everything we’ve been through. I keep seeing photos of you with that asshole. I don’t understand why you like him. He sounds like a complete jerk.

  Can you please tell me what I could have done differently? I tried to be a good boyfriend to you and I was always there when you needed me. I really don’t deserve to be treated this way. When you met me in the city, you made me believe that there was still hope for us. Now, I feel like you’re rubbing this in my face to hurt me. Maybe you’re only with this guy to piss me off. I really don’t appreciate being ignored and I expect a response from you.

  -Ben

  “He expects a response? What are you, his property?” He let out a bellyful of laughter. “This guy is such an entitled ass. Coming from me, that says a lot.”

  The email made me feel cold all over. My eyes pricked with tears. “I don’t like it. I never wanted to hurt him.”

  Will stared at me incredulously. “You realize he’s just manipulating you, right? You’re out in the world, living your life, and he thinks that it’s all about him. You must be doing this to hurt him, not because you’ve moved on. He’s a narcissist and he wants you to feel guilty.”

  I rubbed my arm feverishly. “I need to tell him that it’s over. That we’re done.”

  “You are over. You broke up almost a year ago. Don’t contact him; he’ll only send you more messages. If you ignore them, he’ll gradually stop caring about it.”

  I feel like absolute shit and you probably have no idea. I could hear the despair in that line of text and couldn’t stand that I was making him feel bad about himself. We might have broken up, but I still cared about him.

  He sank down to my level and held my arms. “Baby, listen to me. His problems are no longer yours. You care too much about what people think of you. He’s going to be pissed for a while. So what?”

  I shook with tears, hating myself. “I’m sorry about this. I’m sorry you have to see these emails. I don’t want him and I don’t want to talk about him around you.”

  “Okay,” he beamed. “I got a flight out of Genoa for this evening.”

  I turned my face back towards the ocean and felt another tug on my heart. “Do we have to leave?”

  He stroked my back. “Yeah, but Cinque Terre will always be here. You can always come back.”

  * * *

  It was another exhausting night of travel for all three of us. When Will’s town car arrived to pick us up from O’Hare, I collapsed into the car and almost instantly fell asleep. When I woke up, I felt a heavy, warm weight on my lap and realized that the cat had crawled onto my lap.

  “We’re here.”

  The car pulled into a driveway and stopped in front of a mansion that rivaled Luke’s in San Francisco. The red brick home was surrounded by color; plants and bushes of all types thrived around the house. The driveway surrounded a round pool where a large, golden fountain played. When the door opened, Tom dashed from the car to lie on the brick steps on the house, flailing his body in apparent ecstasy.

  The light brown wooden doors opened and a woman in her fifties emerged, dressed in white capris and a sky-blue blouse. She beamed when William swept out of the car.

  Here we go, I told myself, watching his mother hurry down the steps to greet her son.

  “My baby!” she squealed, throwing her arms around his neck.

  “Hi, Mom,” he said without the same enthusiasm. Will hugged her, his face going a bit pink.

  His mother tossed bac
k her dyed blonde hair and looked over his shoulder directly at me, a question forming on her lips. Will glanced at me. “Mom, this is Natalie.”

  I slid out of the car and took her proffered hand, “Nice to meet you.”

  Her dark eyes scanned mine, as if she could detect any misgivings stirring inside them and I was reminded of William. His eyes had the same shape and color, and apparently he inherited her unnerving stare. Her lips lifted into a slight smile to soften the message that was: Hurt my son in any way and I will destroy you.

  “It’s lovely to meet you. You two must be starving. Come in, I’ll fix something.”

  I cast a terrified glance at William, who smiled encouragingly and wrapped his arm around my waist as his mother led the way. “Relax, my mom is nice.”

  The door opened to a magnificent foyer laid with cream-colored marble. Two sweeping wooden staircases with black railings led upstairs on either side of the circular room. The archways had beautiful, intricate crown molding. Ahead was the living room and to the left was a modern kitchen with granite counters. Inwardly, I laughed at the idea of his mother visiting my apartment.

  “This is where you grew up?”

  “Yeap. It’s been remodeled several times over the years.”

  “Wow.”

  I could imagine him and his brothers running around as children, knocking over expensive vases and banging on the white grand piano I saw in the sitting room. Even as an adult, Will had so much energy. It must have driven his parents crazy.

  “You’re looking a bit pale, William. Have you eaten anything today?”

  Mrs. Pardini fussed over her son as he sat down at the kitchen table, smoothing his lapels and brushing his hair. His face bloomed and I sniggered at him behind his mother’s back.

  “Mom, stop it.”

  “When was the last time you got a haircut?”

  “I have no idea.”

  She bustled towards the kitchen counter and picked up her phone. “I’ll make a hair appointment for you.”