"Promise me you'll never shut me out again. Promise me you won't let your huge ego destroy us." My mouth curves into a smile.
"I promise and it's not that big."
"It's huge." I hold my hands out in front of me so they're two feet apart. "It's this big."
"You have my ego confused with my dick." He cups his hands over mine and brings them to his chest. "Let's put the past to rest so we can focus on our future."
"I'd like that." I reach up to brush my lips over his. "I'd actually love that."
***
I hold his hand in silence as he reads my sister's journals.
We'd taken them out of my shoebox together along with a Polaroid picture of Annie and me that had been taken four days before our father died and our lives changed forever. In the photograph we're standing in Times Square, our arms linked together as we smile for the camera. The woman taking it knew us. She'd been working the area taking pictures of tourists for spare change for months. When she saw us that day, she asked if she could snap a picture. We agreed and after she was done, she handed it to Annie. She tucked it into the pocket of the worn varsity jacket she'd gotten from the shelter.
"You're sure you don't want some water or something, Ellie?" He turns to look at me.
We've been sitting on the couch in the shoebox apartment for more than an hour now. We came straight here after we got the journals. I wanted the privacy this space offers and he wanted to bring me here to show me the blanket that May had been wrapped in that day he became a dad.
"I'm fine." I glance down at the page he's reading. "You were like an older brother to her."
His eyes search mine. "Why did I never meet you? Where were you when I was with Kip?"
"One time I was hanging on the edge of the park and I saw you two talking." I pause to read a sentence written in my sister's handwriting. "Mostly I was with my dad. He would ask people for money and I was his prop."
I see the pity in his eyes but I don't want it. My dad lived a life that was filled with regret. He lost his first wife, Annie's mom, to a heart attack when she was too young for anyone to know that her heart wasn’t strong.
He worked through that pain by having a bottle of whiskey by his side and different women in his bed. My mom was one of them. She didn't tell him about me until she knew her life was over. I was supposed to go live with my aunt in Brooklyn until my dad came to Boston. He arrived with a bouquet of flowers and Annie by his side.
The loss of my mom after their brief reunion sent him into a tailspin. He drank more and worked less and soon the small furnished apartment in Murray Hill that we lived in wasn't ours anymore. We slept in the car until he sold that and the city's shelters became our home.
He closes the journal with shaking hands. "We need to talk, Ellie, about something I did for Kip."
I squeeze his hand tighter. "You did lots of things for Annie. You gave her food and gloves. Your friend Jeff told her about Paris and it made her fall in love with it."
"That was Crew." A smile ghosts his lips. "Crew told Kip his name was Jeff."
I scan his face, tears swelling in my eyes. "That was Crew? He knew her too?"
"Not well." He swipes the pad of his thumb over my cheek to catch a tear. "They met only a couple of times. Crew talked about Paris. She was mesmerized by it."
"I can't believe that was Crew." I hold his gaze with mine. "I still can't believe you're Rigs."
"I'll read these." He runs his fingers over the open journal in his lap. "I will read and cherish every word that she wrote in here, but I need to talk about something now. I need to explain why I did what I did."
"What did you do?" My stomach knots. I've read my sister's journals more than a dozen times. I've held tight to her thoughts and her words because they've brought me comfort.
"Kip was attacked one night," he begins, his shoulders tensing. "Do you remember that night?"
"I remember everything about that night."
"I was there." He closes his eyes. "I was walking through the park. I heard her scream. I ran. I saw things. There was a man on her, Ellie. His hands were all over her. He was hitting her. Holding her down."
"Yes," I mutter, my voice barely audible. "I remember."
"I pulled him off." He reaches for my hand. "I pulled him off and he took off. He ran. I chased that sick fuck until I caught him."
Chapter 54