Taylor sat with Arthur at a table for two in Baritimo’s, their heads buried in a set of menus, exchanging only the occasional word. It wasn’t that Arthur hadn’t attempted conversation, but the chat had faltered because Taylor’s responses were terse and non-receptive. Worse, each time she failed to engage with him he’d flinch. She hated herself for the way she was acting, but she was so on edge.
At least the ordeal would be over soon, one way or the other.
The waitress, Denise, tottered over. She had a thing for buying new heels, a detail she’d informed them about during past conversations, but those shoes often clashed with the colour of her work outfit. Today her attire actually matched. ‘What d’ya want?’
They shouldn’t have come to Baritimo’s. Taylor wasn’t in the mood for Denise’s surliness. She folded her menu upon the table, regarded the woman, and tried to focus on the simple task of ordering a meal. It would have been better if they’d stayed in Arthur’s apartment. Her words might have come more easily there, and it would have avoided this torture. The only reason she’d agreed to go out was to force herself to do the thing she needed to: at home she might continue to procrastinate, and what she was withholding from Arthur was eating her up inside.
Besides, Baritimo’s had become a tradition between them, and Arthur had insisted they go as they had every Monday evening since they’d started dating.
‘What’s on the specials today?’ Arthur asked. His voice jovial, albeit forced.
‘What do youse care? You’ll order the same shit youse do every week anyway.’
The food served at Baritimo’s was tasty enough – big plated and cheap, and decently cooked – but there were plenty of other eateries around that offered much the same. It was Denise’s banter they came back for. ‘Maybe,’ Arthur replied. ‘But perhaps I’ll choose something else. Just to surprise you…’
Taylor was glad for Arthur’s playfulness. The longer he spent messing with the waitress the longer the delay before she’d be forced to – no, would force herself to – give him her news.
‘Tell me what you’ve got on special.’
Perhaps there was a way to delay this conversation again, to not tell him at all…
‘Well, the chef’s cooked some swirly pieces of pasta in a veggie sauce, there’s a fish soup that, I gotta be honest, honks, and a Greek dessert made of pastry and a spice. Cinnamon, I was told. It’s kinda nice if you’re into that sort of thing. It’s real sticky and sweet. But, don’t ask me to pronounce what it is, because I can’t get my tongue around it. Not that youse care anyway. I know youse guys.’
Denise did know them. Somehow, she was the one who always waited on them, and she’d learned what dishes they always returned to. Taylor’s fingers drummed lightly on her menu as she waited for Arthur to respond. The odour of grilled steak filled the diner, competing with garlic frying alongside onions, of chopped basil tossed in tomatoes, of fish and dill, of chocolate melting on a low heat, and of coffee, ground and smooth. It made Taylor hungry.
‘I bet your chef’s dessert is a baklava,’ Arthur said.
Denise whipped a notepad from her apron and a pencil from behind her ear. ‘If you say so… now, what will you have?’
Taylor longed for Arthur to keep the act going, to say something witty or cutting, or… anything. She needed the moment to last longer, but he’d tired of the game. ‘I’ll have the steak, please,’ he said.
That made Denise snort. ‘Really? Lemme guess – medium rare with fries and salad, right?’
Arthur was pleased with himself. ‘You got it. And a beer, too.’
‘Be adventurous, why don’t ya? And what about you, miss?’ She turned her attention to Taylor. ‘A medium glass of white wine, is it?’ She removed Arthur’s menu as she spoke, prising it out of his hands without ceremony.
‘I guess so… Can I have lasagne as well?’
Denise rolled her eyes. ‘Sure. Anything else, guys?’
‘No, I’m good. Arthur?’
He shook his head. ‘That’s all. Thank you, Denise.’ He used her name deliberately. Somehow the way he said it rankled the waitress. It was part of the fun.
Taylor sat silent as Denise strutted her way to the servery and hailed the chef with their order, and the cook responded with an incoherent grunt of acknowledgement. ‘God, she doesn’t get any better, does she?’
‘No… no, she doesn’t.’ Taylor fell silent again, indecision taking the conversation from her.
Arthur lent forward. ‘So…’ The smile dropped from his face, his eyes becoming sad, ‘Give it to me. I’m a grown man. I’d rather you gave me the bad news straight. If you’re gonna split from me tell me now and give us both a break. This tension between us is killing me.’
She blinked at him. He knew there was something wrong. ‘Is that what you think? No, it’s not that. It’s not that at all.’
She fought her panic as he inhaled deeply, placed his hands flat upon the table. At least he’d forced her to confess, relieved her of the opportunity to prevaricate.
Denise reappeared, sloshed Arthur’s beer onto the table as she slapped the bottle down, and pretended not to notice her mess. Next, she gave Taylor her wine, with marginally more care, before retreating.
‘Cheers…’ Arthur called after her.
Distractedly, Taylor registered that he lent forward and squeezed her hand. ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked.
‘Sorry?’
‘Taylor, there’s something on your mind. Something big. You’ve been… tetchy… for the last couple of weeks. Don’t say you haven’t. You have. It’s like I can’t say a word without you dismissing it, or getting angry at me for saying it. And tonight, goddamn it, I can’t get a word out of you at all.’
The passion in his tone took her by surprise. She’d been tense and worried, but she hadn’t intended to take her stress out on him. ‘Have I been the same with the kids as well?’
He shrugged, reflected. ‘Some…’
‘God…’ She’d hoped her daughters hadn’t picked up on her anxiety. She’d tried to shield them from this problem, didn’t want them damaged when they discovered what was going on. They were too young to learn the truth of it. Too young to comprehend…
She had to tell Arthur and hope he understood. Maybe he’d figure a way out of the nightmare that would help both her and her kids. Francesca might cope with some version of the truth, but maybe wasn’t old enough to grasp its implications. Michelle was simply too young. Taylor wasn’t sure which girl would be scarred less by what their mother needed to reveal.
She chastised herself for not considering the idea before, but Arthur might be able to help her explain the situation. He was good with her daughters. He might find a way to discuss the things she was struggling with. That was, if he stuck with their relationship. She wasn’t sure she’d hang around if their roles were reversed. ‘Okay, I gotta, gotta let you see this…’ she said, and fumbled in her bag. Her hands shook. It was awful. It must appear awful. ‘You remember I mentioned my ex? How I told you he went away? Did a bunk? That I’d never see him again?’
‘Yeah.’ His eyes were full of concern. She hadn’t started the conversation well. Arthur was probably thinking her ex-partner had come back into her life. Well he had, but not in that way.
‘So, that was sort of true… mostly true.’ She’d rehearsed this speech to death, but it was still so hard to say. ‘The truth is, Arthur… the truth is he was sent to prison. I don’t want to go into why because it hurts.’
She rushed on, not giving Arthur time to ask the question. ‘When he went inside, he was supposed to go in for years. And that was a good thing, Arthur. A good thing. I moved to my parents’ home, then to a place of my own. I took the girls with me, didn’t tell him where I’d gone.’
Her hands clasped the envelope. ‘Once I got my new place I got in contact with the authorities, asked them to tell me when he was due for release. Did you realise there’s a form to fill in for that? No? Me either.
‘Anyway, I filled the form out, sent it off. Two weeks ago, I got this letter.’ She handed him the envelope. It had become dog-eared during the time it had been in her bag. ‘Read it,’ she said. She wasn’t able to say anything else.
His eyes opened wide, surprised.
‘Please…’ she said
His attention switched from the envelope to her, and back again. Slowly, he removed the letter, unfolded it with care, and scanned it with speed. ‘Oh,’ he said and paused, his expression serious. ‘Let me read it properly.’
She waited as his eyes flicked across the page, her heart drumming in her chest, anxious for his response.
When he’d finished, he handed the paper and envelope back to her. ‘So, this Manny is your daughters’ father?’
She nodded.
‘And he was sent down for murder?’
Again, she nodded.
Arthur drunk a large slug from his beer. ‘Who did he kill?’
‘Does it matter?’ She cursed herself. That question was a mistake, obviously it mattered. She forced herself to reply properly. ‘A cop. A sergeant.’ She paused, licked her lips. They were so dry. ‘That police officer struck me as well.’ She didn’t want to relive this, didn’t want to recount what Manny had done. ‘Please don’t make me go over the details.’ Tears were building behind her eyes. They would smudge her makeup if she let them fall.
Arthur drunk his beer again, taking the liquid in a slow pull. It would be killing him, this not knowing. ‘Should I be mad at you for not showing me this sooner?’
Taylor wasn’t expecting that. ‘Are you?’ She didn’t understand why she hadn’t shown it to him when it arrived. She’d kept putting the moment off, and off again, and each time she postponed it, it became harder for her to give him the damn thing.
‘Some, I guess. None. I wish you’d let me read it sooner. If we’d discussed it we wouldn’t have had two weeks of…well, two weeks of…whatever’s been upsetting you.’
He’d got that bit wrong. She wasn’t able to sweep it under the carpet. Talking about it wouldn’t make it go away. ‘Arthur, I’ve been scared shitless…I am scared shitless.’
He grasped her hands, put on a re-assuring face. ‘You said you moved away, didn’t tell him where you were headed. He’ll never find you.’
She’d considered that, of course. Hiding from Manny was one of the reasons she’d moved in the first place. Aside from the bad memories her apartment held, she detested living in the place, and the move made it trickier for Manny to find her. But Taylor understood Manny, had witnessed how he operated, and the network of people he worked for. He’d call in favours and find her, sooner or later. ‘No, he’ll hunt me down… Look Arthur, I hate to say this but if he finds me… when he finds me… anyone who’s connected with me will be in danger. That means my kids. And that means you.’
She studied his reaction, expecting fear, but his face was inscrutable. She kept going, ‘I’m scared. I need to protect my kids ‘cause they’re my responsibility, and I’ll defend them from him even if he kills me to get to them. But… but, it’s not fair of me to get you involved in all my shit. I mean it, Arthur. This ain’t some fantasy I’m making up. You’re in real danger around me, and I…’ The tears were there again, desperate to fall. ‘I can’t let anything happen to you. Walk away from me, walk away from us, keep yourself safe. You’ll be out of danger if you stay out of my life.’
He took an age to digest her confession, toyed with his beer, adjusted his cutlery, examined the poster art that covered most of the diner’s walls, and said nothing. She wished he’d say something, anything. In the end, he treated her to a wide, sympathetic smile. His words were thick with sincerity, but she wasn’t sure of their truth.
‘I’m not walking away from you, and I’m not scared. Besides, the chances of him hunting you down are tiny. And even if he does, well… we’ll fight him together.’ Arthur lent against the back of his chair, which creaked. ‘And Manny’s release from prison is what’s been bothering you all this time?’
She nodded, mute.
His hands pushed against the table edge. He was so far back on his chair it was in danger of toppling. ‘I wish you’d shown me the letter before…’
Taylor nodded again. Did he understand properly, or was he saying words to placate her? Perhaps, he needed time to appreciate the danger. ‘Arthur…’
He cut through whatever it was she was going to say. ‘I don’t wanna split from you, Taylor.’
‘But why, Arthur? Why would you stay with me?’
He shrugged, and Taylor was unsure whether the gesture was an attempt to disguise how uncomfortable she’d made him. ‘I’d miss it if you weren’t around…’
‘Me too,’ she said, an admittance she surprised herself with. ‘I’d miss being around you, too.’
The air hung silent between them. She didn’t have anything more to say. She was drained, but relieved that Arthur would be there for her when Manny came. She hoped her taxi driver was as strong as he pretended to be. He needed to be. She caught herself smiling at him. The twinkle had returned to his eyes. ‘Now,’ he asked her, ‘shall we relax and enjoy our meal? We’ll worry about your ex if he pays us a visit.’ She nodded, sipped her wine. ‘Yes.’ The alcohol made her warm inside. It was re-assuring, comforting. ‘Let’s do just that.’
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