Chevy Stevens - Always Watching

Frustrated, I nodded. I was tired of being told there was nothing anyone could do—tired of feeling like there was nothing I could do. As I walked out of the station, my cell rang. It was Kevin.

“You okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” But I wasn’t fine. Not even close.

“When I didn’t hear from you, I was worried. Did you find Lisa?”

I told him what I’d discovered at the Monkey House and what Daniel told me about the center.

Kevin said, “I have to agree with him. If she’s at the center, it is better she draw her own conclusions, any interference by you might just make her want to stay longer. Can you give it a couple of days and see what he finds out?”

I let out my breath, watching the traffic zip by and the plumes of my breath on the cold air. We talked a little while longer, and he reminded me that once Tammy made her statement, Aaron could be arrested, which would hopefully make Lisa look at the center with new eyes. My best bet was to wait.

I leaned back on the headrest. “I’ll see what happens over the next couple of days, but I should get home now. I’m tired, cold, and hungry.”

“Why don’t I come over with some miso soup? I have a favorite Japanese restaurant near my house. We can talk this over some more.”

“I’ll be okay….” But then I imagined walking into my empty home, fear of what could be happening to my daughter my only company.

Kevin must have heard something in my voice because he said, “Of course you’ll be okay, but I know how I am when something’s bothering me. It’s always better if I have another mind to bounce ideas off, so I can make sure my perception of the situation isn’t clouded by emotion. Then I make my decision.”

My professional pride stung at the implication that I couldn’t control my emotions, and I wanted to defend myself—but when I stood back and considered my current desire to break into the commune with a loaded gun and hunt down Aaron, I realized that Kevin had a point. My sheer panic over wanting to keep Lisa away from Aaron was definitely clouding reason.

“Yes, please come over.”

I gave Kevin my address and sped home to quickly tidy while he was picking up the food. Though my home is usually clean, I wanted the security of a last-minute check. I rushed around, shoving the books and notes that were piled up on my kitchen table back into my office. The doorbell rang.

It was Kevin, wearing a maroon rugby shirt and jeans. I took his jacket and, as he walked past me into the house, caught the scent of soap and cologne, noticing that the back of his hair was damp—so he’d also tidied up. He looked around admiringly as he made himself at home in my kitchen and set the take-out bag on the counter. “Your home is very nice.” He turned and smiled.

I tried to smile back as I got down some bowls. “Thanks.”

We met eyes. His voice turned somber as he said, “I know you have a lot on your mind. I just want to be a friend and support you through it.”

I felt a mixture of relief and disappointment at his words, wondering at the latter. I turned to put the kettle on and said, “Do you like green tea?”

Behind me, he said, “Actually, I brought us some sake. I thought you might need something stronger.”

I set the kettle down. “You’re probably right.”

It had been a long time since I’d had miso soup, or sake, and both sent a warm glow through my body as we sat at the table and talked. I shared my feelings about the scene at the Monkey House, while Kevin carefully listened. Afterward, he confided that he’d had a younger brother who became an addict. His brother eventually got his life together, and they were very close now.

Lulled by the sake, we moved into the living room, the fire unwinding my muscles even more. I began to think that maybe Kevin was right. Even if Lisa had gone to a retreat, that didn’t mean she’d stay after it was over. She’d dry out, then hopefully make some changes with her life. She wouldn’t be as vulnerable since the center was drug-free except for marijuana. Lisa was also older than I was when we joined the commune, and she was strong-minded, a fighter. She probably wouldn’t even finish the retreat once she found out how many rules there were. They wouldn’t have time to mess with her. Daniel had even said himself that lots of people left after the first weekend. Meanwhile, all I could do was accept that I’d done everything I could and there was nothing else to try.

As I studied Kevin by the firelight, his hair shining and his brown eyes reflecting the flickering flames, he told me about some of his travels. I watched his hand on his glass, his ease of movement as he brought it to his lips again and again. He had just finished explaining some of the meditation techniques he’d learned in India, when I said, “You’ve obviously done a lot of traveling. Did you go on your own? Or were you married?”

“When I was younger, but I was single when I was traveling. That was one of the main reasons I went on the trip, so I could do some soul-searching.”

“Divorced?” I imagined him with someone he met while at university, but they grew apart as they began their careers—a common occurrence.

“Nope, widowed.”

I stared at him, my drink halfway to my mouth. He was a widower too?

Kevin, his face vaguely amused, said, “You okay?”

“Yes, sorry. I was just surprised I didn’t know that.”

“I haven’t told anyone at the hospital.”

Another surprise. He seemed like such an open book I wondered what else he wasn’t sharing. I also realized his hand was on the back of the couch. If I leaned backward, my neck would touch his skin, but I didn’t move. Instead I said, “Did you know that I’d lost my husband?”

He nodded. “Someone mentioned it.”

I wanted to ask who, but had a feeling it was probably one of the nurses, remembering that we’d talked about it once when the hospital had a fund-raiser for cancer. I said, “How did you lose your wife?”

“It was about six years ago. She was coming home from the school—she was a teacher—and a drunk driver hit her head-on.”

I shook my head. “My God, I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that. I was in bad shape for a long while. We were ready to start a family, so I felt like I’d lost everything at once.”

I nodded, understanding all too well. When we lose someone, we also grieve over all the things that will never be.

He said, “I joined a support group, made some good friends, and pulled through it.”

“Have you had any relationships since?” I held my breath, in anticipation of his answer, wondering what kind of response I was hoping for.

He turned slightly so he was facing me, his arm still resting on the back of the couch. I could feel the heat of his body, the sensation of his skin so close to mine, sending a shiver from the base of my spine up to the back of my neck.

“Nothing serious. I just haven’t found anyone I really connected with. It was always too easy to keep them at a distance.” He took a sip of sake, then added, “I was starting to wonder if maybe I was never going to feel strongly about anyone again, but then…” He paused, his cheeks flushed slightly.

I said, “But then?”

Still looking hesitant, he held my gaze. “I met you, and I realized that maybe it was possible.”

My chest tightened, the moment slowing, everything that he was thinking and feeling reflected in his eyes. My face must have signaled something because he reached over and took my sake glass out of my hand while his other arm dropped from the back of the couch to my neck, his fingers splaying at the nape, gently turning my face toward his. He leaned forward, pressed his lips to mine. I also leaned into the kiss, tasting warm sake on his tongue, heat spreading through my body. His hands tangled in my hair. Mine reached up and curled around his biceps, feeling the hard muscles there. He led the way, teasing and gentle, then more passionate. My own ardor grew, my breath coming faster. Then I remembered Lisa’s words. I could feel Dad, like he was in the room with me.