Some Time to Kill

She got up and walked towards me. I held up my hand to keep her away. She pushed it to the side and pulled me into a hug.

"I love you. I think you need to talk to someone."

The tears finally came and they wouldn't stop.

She stayed and we watched some Netflix. I was completely drained and fell asleep. When I woke up I was in my own bed and the aroma of coffee pulled me from my bedroom. Carey must have slept in the guest room. She had her back to me and was pushing something around with the spatula.

"They started as sunny-side up, but now they're scrambled. Grab some plates and no grumbling, please. Toast should be ready in a sec."

"I don't wanna talk about—"

"Me neither. Let's just have breakfast."

We talked about everything in the world. The restaurant, local politics, what was coming up on Netflix, and the weather all made the conversation list. It was as if we were afraid to have any lulls or slow-downs that we would have to fill with things that were too raw for an early morning.

Carey and I had always been allies. We didn't need therapy, Mom did. We didn't need cops, other people did. It was hubris. Maybe she was right. There was something wrong with me. I was like a creature stuck in amber, ever unchanged.

We finished breakfast and she loaded up the dishwasher.

"Leftovers from dinner are in the fridge. I'm going to hit the gym. Don't forget about the fundraiser on Tuesday."

"Jake's at the gym?"

"Yup."

"How's everything going with the two of you?"

"So far, so good. He wants to take me to New York for a week."

"That's where he's from, right?"

"Yeah."

"Meet the folks sort of trip?"

She sighed. "Yeah. A little scary."

"Scary good or scary bad?"

"A little of both."

"Well, I'm happy for you. I'll see you Tuesday."

She gave me another hug. "You know I love you, right?"

"I love you too."

We didn't have enough money to sponsor any of the fundraisers, but we always bought a table. Sometimes Jake would come, sometimes Evy, but Carey and I always made it. Lindsey usually found her way to our table, often corralled by one of the women. Unlike us, she had serious money. Her firm often sponsored the events at some level.

I think I became known as the de facto cock-blocker. If she needed graceful rescuing from someone who was a bit too aggressive, I was pressed into service by Carey, Evy, or Mom. At the event on Tuesday, she asked me if I'd attend a work event with her the following Saturday. After she explained how difficult it could be for her to attend alone, I agreed.

We were going as friends and she was going to pick me up.

I was running a little late and was tucking in my shirt when the doorbell rang. After letting her in, I excused myself and went back to finish up. As a final touch, I splashed on a small amount of Eros and walked back to the living room, and saw her going through one of the boxes.

"Please... Don't touch that."

"I'm just surprised. You don't seem like the—"

I walked over and gently took the comic book from her hand and placed it back with the others. I'd have to check later and make sure it was between the preceding and following issues.

"Sorry."

Looking at her, I shook my head and waved dismissively. "No, it's fine. You're right; I don't read them."

"So, they're a collection? Like stamps or something?"

I knew what she must be thinking. I was a grown man with a collection of Iron Man comics. It was too early to explain to her about Kevin. He'd loved Iron Man. Thor was a god, Spiderman had spider-powers, Superman could leap tall buildings in a single bound, but Iron Man used his mind to overcome his surroundings. Kevin was sure that if he were smarter, he could see through his problems.

You can't out-think mental illness. You can't out-logic paranoid schizophrenia.

He'd often taken his meds to appease our parents, but he was convinced that if he just worked a little harder, thought a little deeper, and was a bit more rigorous he could rise above his illness. He didn't need pills, he didn't need therapists, he didn't need superpowers. Like Tony Stark, he just needed to be smart.

No one is that smart. My brother certainly wasn't.

Managing to summon a smile, I gently took the box and put it with the others. "Not a big deal. You ready to go?"

The evening went well. We were both able to accomplish what we wanted. She represented her partners and I schmoozed with other business owners her firm had invited. It was an odd dichotomy. Lindsey was talking with people that she hoped her firm would represent in major cases and I was asking people if their businesses had accounts with any restaurants yet for lunch deliveries.

She was class and I was grit, but it worked.

Later that week I received a shipment from a place called Bizarro World. They were just off Route 80 but I couldn't remember ever seeing them and I certainly hadn't ordered anything from them. I pulled the cartons into the condo and opened them.

There were three boxes to hold comic books, a bunch of bags to put them in and cardboard to slip behind them in the bags. The boxes were certainly better than the cardboard versions I brought home from the bar. They were acid-free and the right size and looked like they could hold a crap-ton.

There was a note:

Sorry about the comics. I should have asked before going through them. If you enjoy it, do it. I collect matchbooks. I have one from 37 states. Everyone needs a hobby.

Lindsey

She didn't understand, but it was sweet. I took a photo of them in the living room and sent it to her with my thanks.

Two weeks went by and I again escorted her to an event. Evy was nervous, which was cute to see. She had brought Phil, a professor at UC Davis. He doted on her and she was glowing. It was a little weird to sit there with Evy and Phil and Carey and Jake. Lindsey and I weren't much more than friends and we certainly weren't romantic, so it was more awkward than when Mom was there.

Three pairs together had the feeling of dating and this definitely wasn't that. Lindsey was very careful in making sure I was aware of our situation.

Other than that, the evening went well. We decided to make an official offer for the restaurant and had turned the evening into a mini-celebration. They were losing money and we included a guarantee of keeping all of their staff for a minimum of six months. We were pretty sure they would accept.

After I took Evy out onto the floor for a song or two, Phil followed suit. He was a little stiff at first but managed to get into it. Jake and I both danced with Lindsey and she used me as an excuse to politely decline dance requests from other guys.

The season had finished for two of my leagues and I had some extra time on my hands. I took the opportunity to use Lindsey's gift. I bagged up all of the comic books, made sure they were in the right order, and put them in the boxes she'd sent. There were about sixty comics in stacks around me when I got up and dug out the business card that came with the shipment.

I called them.

"Bizarro."

"Um, yeah, hi. I'm interested in getting an Iron Man number one. How much would that cost me?"

"From '68?"

"I guess. I don't really know."

"What grade?"

"Yeah, sorry, don't know that either. The best, I guess?"

"I can get it for you if you give me a week or so. It'll be about a 9.5 and will set you back around $19,000."

"Seriously? For a comic book?"

The man on the other end of the line sighed. "Yeah, seriously. You calling to yank my chain? I have customers."

"No, sorry. I just don't know much about this. I don't have a number one, and I'm missing number six, but other than that I have everything up to thirty-two. If I just wanted to fill in every gap, could you do that?"

"Yeah, sure. As long as I have a couple of weeks to source what I don't have in-house. Can you email me a list?"

"Uh-huh. I have your card. I'll send a list tonight."

I'd had Kevin's comics since he'd passed. Why was I so interested in filling the holes now? Sitting there in my swivel chair, I spun slowly back and forth, looking at the collection and thinking about my brother, Carey, and Mom.

I picked up the phone again and dialed.

"Hello, honey. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Mom. Can I come over and see you tomorrow?"

"Of course. I'll make dinner."

I had trouble sleeping that night. I almost called her back twice to cancel. Picturing Carey finding out pushed those thoughts from my mind. I knocked on Mom's door with a bottle of wine in hand. She opened the door and as always, hugged me. It was always as if she needed a tactile reminder that I was there, in front of her and alive.

"Hi, Mom. I thought we could talk."

She had some hot brie topped with crushed nuts and honey that we ate with apple slices. I hadn't realized how obvious I'd been about dissembling until she interrupted me talking about menus for the new restaurant, pushed the appetizer to the side, and took my hand.

"Okay, Antoine. What did you want to talk about?"

Exhaling deeply, I looked around the home I'd grown up in. I could feel the ghosts of yesterday and wondered if they offered Mom comfort or pain or some combination of the both.

"Mom, I think... I think I've sort of not been... Shit, this is hard. I don't know the right words. I've been content to ignore some things about you in the hopes that you wouldn't push me. I didn't want to be pushed. At all. I didn't want to think about some things and I was comfortable and..."

I had to stop. Mom patted my hand and I took a gulp of my water.

"It's okay. Say what you have to say."

I nodded. "It was sort of like you don't push me and I won't push you. It was crazy selfish and I feel like crap. Carey read me the riot act about a month ago and, well, she was right. Mom, I think you need to go back and talk to somebody about Kevin and Dad. And maybe get a physical check-up and see if everything is okay."

It broke my heart when she reached up to wipe away a tear. I couldn't take watching women crying and my Mom least of all.

"Mom, I'm sorry. I'll go with you. We'll do it together and—"

"Okay."

"What?"

"I said okay, Antoine. I'll go."

"You... You don't want to know why?"

"I'm not an idiot. I know why. Having issues doesn't mean I'm not self-aware. There's going to be times when I need some help."

"You'll get it. Me and Carey will be with you the whole way. Hell, Evy too."

She nodded and wiped away another tear. "I just can't lose anyone else. I can't. I think about it all the time."

"I know, Mom. It's going to be okay."

And it was. Things weren't perfect, but they were okay. We found her a therapist who specialized in grief counseling and that therapist recommended a doctor who gave her a thorough physical. She was put on some meds and started seeing the therapist twice a week. Things weren't great, but they were better and I was happy with that for the time being.

I wish I could wax rhapsodic about how spring came upon the Earth and life returned to the land, but we lived in northern California, not Maine. To me, spring meant the start of new softball leagues. We'd attended a few more events, I got to enjoy playing the game I loved and Lindsey could spend time at fundraisers without the fear of being pressured to do more than socialize. She was reserved but had a dry wit. Without noticing it happening, she became a regular.

I felt a little guilty about using my old lawyer for the paperwork for the new restaurant, but she never mentioned it. I valued loyalty and he'd done well by me in the past. Carey and Evy convinced me that we should use a soft opening as a fundraiser for the Rotary. This would be our major contribution for the year and would introduce us to all of the businesses downtown.

We had staffed heavily at both restaurants and had runners delivering food from both kitchens. I was nervous as hell, but Arthur and Cheryl had been prepping for two weeks and everything was flawless. Evy forced me to stop handing out business cards and told me to relax and stop being so heavy-handed.

I spent the first two hours trying to keep a smile on my face while keeping track of every possible bit of minutia. Eventually, I relaxed and just enjoyed the evening, maybe a bit too much. It felt like we'd been working on this forever. We made sure to invite the owners of the local farms we'd be sourcing food from and had tours of the kitchen and sample menus available.

Mom was there and I noticed her talking to some older guy. He looked very distinguished with grey slicked-back hair and a nice suit. She was smiling while speaking animatedly. Finding Carey, I pointed it out and she squeezed my arm, smiling as widely as Mom.

Things were going well.

We finished up at around two and I was feeling no pain. Carey and Evy were sitting with me at a table as staff finished cleaning up.

"I'm going to call an Uber, Tony." Evy looked concerned. "You're in no condition to drive."

I waggled my eyebrows at her and smiled. "Too late! I rented a room next door. Got one for each of us. Mom too."

She looked at me for a second and laughed. "How much have you had to drink, goofball? Okay, I'm going to get Phil to walk you up to your room."

"I got Mom a room."

"I know, you just said that. Give me two minutes and I'll get Phil."

Lindsey stepped up to the table. Her dress flattered her every curve and her legs seemed to go on forever. She shook her head and smiled.

"C'mon, Antoine. I'll make sure you get there safely. Let Phil and Evy have their night."

"Good plan! You want a room? I can get you a room. Mom has one."

She laughed. "No, I'm fine."

I was unsteady and leaned on her as we made our way to the elevator.

"What floor?"

"What?"

"What floor, Antoine?"

I handed her my card-key.

She punched in the number and when we got to the right floor she got me inside the room and sitting on my bed.

"Are you going to be alright? I'll get you some water."

She walked into the bathroom and I turned on the TV and immediately skipped down the channels to below two and into the music options.

Lindsey stepped out with the glass of water and put it on the table next to the bed.

"Dance with me."

"I've got to get home. You get some sleep."

"Dance with me, Lindsey."

"Seriously, I need to—"

"One dance."

She sighed. "One dance."

One turned into two and two turned into more than I could remember. I trailed kisses down her neck as we stood close and swayed more than danced.

"I... I need to go."

"Stay." I kissed her behind her ear.

"I really need to—"

"Stay. Please."

She did. My lips met hers and we eventually moved towards the bed. I slowly undressed her and laid her down. My own clothes quickly met the floor. Lindsey was more beautiful than I could have hoped for. I stood there gazing for a moment before kneeling and kissing her thigh just above the knee.

Making my way north, I took in her aroma and it had me aching. By the time my tongue dipped into her honeyed recess, she had her hands in my hair, pulling me tight. Lindsey climbed to her peak before I moved upwards, trailing kisses across her abdomen, her supple breasts, her sensitive nipples, and her neck.

Slipping my hands behind her waist, I lifted her and shifted us up further on the bed. Moving my hips up, I used her moisture to coat my rampant member. She stared into my eyes as I slowly began to enter her.

"It's... It's been a long time."

I nodded and continued, moving slowly, letting her adjust. Finally, we were one. I held her lightly after we were done and only woke when I heard her muffled crying.

She was sitting on the side of the bed, hugging herself and shaking.

"Lindsey?"

I spoke to her back as she wouldn't turn around.

"Lindsey, what can I do?"

"Nothing. I... I can't have this. This isn't me. You don't deserve..."

She got up and quickly got dressed.

"Wait, let's talk. What don't I deserve? Lindsey, talk to me."

She stood by the door, still refusing to face me.

"I'm sorry."

She opened the door and walked out of my life.

One of the best nights of my life was followed by one of my worst days. Lindsey wouldn't return my calls or texts and refused to speak to Evy or Carey. There's a fine line between being persistent and being a stalker. I called three or four times a day for the next few days and then reduced that to once per day and eventually once a week before finally stopping.

We were knee-deep in the opening over the next few weeks and I buried myself in the business. I haunted every Rotary Club meeting, every Chamber of Commerce event, and even Civic Association get-togethers in the hopes of seeing her. Lindsey had turned into a ghost.

It took two months for my sister to kick my ass again.

"Opening the bistro was big for you. Out of your comfort zone. Sitting down with Mom was, too. All of Kevin's comics are put away and out of sight. So, why are you just sitting back and letting Lindsey disappear?"

Carey rode her bike almost everywhere and was more of a fanatic about it than most people. We were walking around the Bicycling Hall of Fame and she'd interrupted her lecturing me on legends of the sport to harangue me again.

We were standing in the BMX area between the displays for Nicky Tremaine and Mike King. We lingered here every time we visited. Carey had a thing for both of them.

"Because I'm not a creeper, Carey. More importantly, why haven't you reached out to her? You guys were friends. How am I the bad guy here while you're getting away scot-free?"

She lightly punched my arm. "No one's the bad guy and don't play dumb. We were friends of hers through you. There was always this underlying thing with the two of you. Don't pretend there wasn't. You've been moping around and snapping at staff for the last two weeks. Give it one more and see if there's anything there. If not, you can walk away knowing you gave it your all."

Sighing, I ran my fingertips over the plastic display case with Tremaine's memorabilia. "I tried. A bunch. She doesn't want to hear from me."

"Try again. Just once, but make it count."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, let me think about it."

"Sure. Think all you want as long as you do it."

I laughed. We waved to Angela, the regular docent, as we left, visited some local farms to check on their quality and pricing, and headed back.

A few days later I was in the kitchen of our original restaurant. As always, Arthur was doing three things at once while barking out orders to his staff.

"So, you want what now?"

"Like, a picnic type thing. Maybe some nice sandwiches or... I don't know. Whatever would go in a fancy picnic."

"You get that I'm a respected chef, right? I don't fill up picnic baskets for Ranger Rick and Scooby Bear."

"Yogi Bear and make an exception."

"Look, just go to some market and buy sandwiches."

He was always pulling this shit and it was my fault. I never pushed back.

"You seem to think I'm asking, Arthur. I'm not. I'll be here tomorrow at ten. Have the fucking food ready."

He stopped looking over the list of ingredients from the walk-in he was updating. "Or what?"

"Or I start reevaluating how indispensable you are. I'm not kidding. Get it done."

Cheryl cleared her throat. "I'll get it. I have some nice aged cheddar and can put some stuff together. 10:00 AM. Not a problem."

I looked from her to Arthur. "That's fine. I don't care who gets it done, as long as it's done. This is on you, Arthur. Make sure it's ready."

"I have a job description and that ain't on it."

"Yeah, neither is the profit-sharing you enjoy. Get it done."

Cheryl stepped in front of me and continued. "It won't be a problem. It'll be ready. Maybe some broccoli and cheddar soup with bruschetta?"