He takes a deep breath. “They both passed away, years back.”
I am helpless to stop my shocked, sharp inhalation of breath. I had no clue. My blindfold had been too effective. My mind reels as I remember them, fit and vital.
Before they hated me they had loved me. I’d been at Sunday breakfasts, family trips, parties and the rest of the package that a good second family provides. Their disdain had been the decayed cherry on the top of a mountain of guilt and self loathing. I maybe could have forgiven myself had they not so thoroughly railed against me. Interviews with The Bishop Herald, attempted criminal charges and finally forcing Erik and I apart.
“Both of them?” I whisper. “How?”
“Mom took pills,” he tells me wistfully, continuing only when he sees the question in my eyes. “We don’t know if it was calculated. The medical examiner felt that it was a good possibility that she merely was too intoxicated to realize that she’d already taken too many. There was no note and no indication that she’d planned it.”
I nod, stunned. I had never once even seen her have a sip of alcohol or be impaired in any fashion. The thought of her dying of an overdose was completely foreign. I am shocked into silence, and Erik continues.
“Dad died of a heart attack just a year later,” he says soberly. “We’ve had an incredible run of terrible luck.”
“Juniper?” I ask, scared beyond belief for the answer.
“Juniper is at home right now,” he smiles. “She’s alive and doing about as well as can be expected.”
I sigh in relief. “Erik, can she see?”
“She is legally blind,” his lips set. “She can see partially out of one eye, just hazy shapes. But she damaged her corneas, and one eye was completely shredded. It’s called self-enucleation and it’s a symptom of psychosis.”
“Brought about by Ecstasy,” I say, hanging my head. I’d known she likely wouldn’t see again, but I’d always been able to hope for a miracle. Certainly what I saw that night was a good indication that her sight would be gone. The blood, the flesh, the gore in her fingernails and dripping from her hands...
“In this case,” he says, patting her back. “No one could have known she would react like that.”
“Does…” I start, my voice trembling. “Does she blame me?”
“No, Kat,” he assures her, a smile touching his face, bringing back his inherent light. “She’d like to hear from you.”
“I...wow…” I falter for words.
“You don’t have to see her—”
“No,” I put my hand up abruptly to silence him, eager for him to feel how ready I am to make amends, even if he doesn’t believe they are necessary. “I want to see her.
I just can’t believe it.”
“Why? She doesn’t blame you,” he tells me, taking his hand and placing it on my chin, directing my gaze to his kindly eyes. His hand is warm from handling the coffee mug, and it feels soothing.
“Does she live in town?” I ask, feeling like his familiarity should be awkward and marveling that it is not.
“She lives with me in the same house.” He answers, trailing his hand to my cheek, using his thumb to caress my skin tenderly.
I look at him and hold his stare, my breath catching. I suddenly am afraid my tears have made me look like a racoon. Why didn’t I use waterproof mascara? And I’m back, ladies and gentleman.
I suddenly feel eyes on me and look around expecting to see bartender Greg, but instead see Ian looking at me from the entrance where he’s likely just arrived from. The intimate lighting casts shadows on his face, highlighting his dark good looks, but also obscuring his expression. From the way he looks away awkwardly, I know that he is conflicted. We have only shared one evening together, so jealousy is theoretically not appropriate, but our time together was intimate and felt special and that makes this an uncomfortable situation.
I reflexively move away from Erik, his hands falling away easily as he sees me stiffening. I cast a glance to the bar and am unsurprised to see bromance Greg has stopped polishing a glass and is watching the scene raptly. When Kat’s man from last night meets the man from tonight.
“Is everything ok, Kat?” Erik asks, face unsure as he looks from me to Ian.
“Yes, I’m sorry,” I offer quickly, forcing a smile and deciding honesty is in order. “This is awkward, but the man who just walked in is another blogger. We met last night and there was mutual attraction.”
I wince as Erik immediately turns to look at Ian, who seems to sigh and make the decision to approach us. Before I can explain further he has crossed to us and is smiling wryly.
“Hello, Kat.” His buttery voice is as silken as I remember, and there isn’t a hint of edge to it.
“Hello, Ian.” I gesture to Erik. “This is my high school boyfriend, Erik.”
Understanding dawns on Ian’s face, and his eyebrows raise. I know that he is incredibly adroit and that he understands not to bring up the entity in the room the night before asking for Erik.
He quickly holds out his hand and pumps Erik’s enthusiastically while introducing himself. His ability to stifle the discomfort is an absolute credit to his character and I’m very appreciative.
“Ian, would you like to join us?” Erik offers, while indicating the rest of the large booth.
“No,” Ian says, patting his camera. “I just came in to get some quick shots of the bar and need to be on my way. Thank you though.”
“It was good to see you, Ian,” I tell him meaningfully. “I hope we can talk before we go back to L.A.”
“Me too, Kat,” he dips his head before smiling again and ambling off, waving to Greg who looks very disappointed at the lack of bar brawl.
“You guys both live in Los Angeles?”
