When The Rain Falls

23. Mr. Finn

23 MR. FINN

FINN

It's chilly, even for December. I hold the edges of Nicole's peacoat tightly closed around her, protecting her from the harsh air. We're standing in my driveway. We just had a quiet dinner downtown. Everything was perfectly nice. The food. The ambiance. The conversation. Nicole was perfectly nice. She's beautiful and smart. I met her through work. We had a case together, representing opposing clients who had gotten mixed up in a business deal gone bad. Our interactions had been unusually cordial. We both must have recognized the mutual attraction. After the case settled, at Rebecca's urging, I asked her out. We've been dating for two months now.

I had been cautious about the relationship at first. It was the first time I felt ready to be with someone again. I kept comparing Nicole to Laurel. It took me a while to get over the fact that no one will come close to Laurel and I just need to accept that things are different. But I do really like Nicole. We always have something to talk about between work and trial stories. And what we have is routine and comfortable. She's a good kisser. She gives me space whenever my mind goes someplace dark. She's only met the kids a couple times, in passing. But I'm thinking of inviting her over for a family dinner. And tonight, I'm thinking of taking things to the next level.

"Want to come in?" I throw a thumb over my shoulder at the front door. I’ll pay the babysitter and you can stay a bit."

"Sure." She shivers under her coat. "I'd like that."

I pay the sitter and watch from the front window to make sure she gets to her car safely. Nicole hangs her coat on our coat rack, between a pink puffy jacket with kittens on it and a simple blue striped one. I kick the pile of kids' shoes that's collected by the door to make a path for us to walk through.

"Sorry about the mess. I think their shoes have a plot to take over the house. Like Toy Story. But it's sneakers and slides.

"It's fine. I get it." Nicole laughs. But she doesn't get it. I know she doesn't get it. She lives alone, in her pristine downtown condo where not a plant leaf is out of plant. She has no clue.

"Want something to drink?"

"Actually, I was thinking of something else," she says. She leans into me and presses her lips to mine. I gather my hands at her waist.

"In that case, we can just go upstairs," I suggest.

"Yeah." She nods.

I check in on the girls before leading Nicole to my room. When I close the door behind me, we undress each other between gentle kisses. I guide her to my bed and our mouths roam. We're a flurry of lips, and hands, and arms. Finally, I reach into my bedside drawer for a condom. I slide it on. It's the first time I've used one in over a decade. I almost feel like a teenager again. My heartbeat quickens and my chest tightens. Am I really ready for this?

I give myself a pep talk before turning my attention back to Nicole. She plants kisses down my neck as I hover over her. I take a deep breath, line myself up, and press into her. She arches her back and I thrust again. But something's not right. Nothing's happening. There's just soft flesh against soft flesh. She realizes it, too. She looks up at me with a confused look on her face.

"Why'd you stop? Why'd you pull out?"

"I didn't," I say. Her brows furrow and my gut clenches in the horror of what I think is happening.

I thrust again but it's pointless. I'm not hard. Not even a little bit. My head feels like it's slowly filling with boiling water. The heat creeps down my neck then into my chest. I pull out and avoid eye contact with Nicole. I feel sick to my stomach. What's happening? Why can't I control my own fucking body?

"What's wrong with it?" she asks. What's wrong with it? What the fuck kind of question is that?

"Jesus, Nicole," I say defensively. "Nothing's wrong with it."

"I've never had this happen to me before," she says. It sounds like an accusation.

"Just give me a minute. It's been a while." I rub my hand up and down myself, conjure every dirty magazine picture I've ever looked at, and concentrate on bringing him back to life. Nicole just stares at me blankly. Jesus. That's not helping. She could try to help me out here.

"Well?" she asks.

"I'm probably tired," I tell her, giving up. "Maybe you should go," I suggest. Despite my words, I don't want her to go. Not yet. I want her to sit with me, to tell me it's ok. To help me find some warmth to battle the chill forming inside my chest. But I don't feel like that's something I can ask for. And it's not what I deserve. I sit on the edge of the bed and try to calm the panic rising in my gut.

"Yeah," she says. "Ok." She stands up and reaches for her clothes. I pull on my boxer briefs and then my shirt. Then I sit in awkward, embarrassed silence for the next several minutes as she gets dressed.

"I'll let myself out," she says, slipping quietly out the door.

The second she's gone, I run for the bathroom and empty my stomach into the toilet.

The bane of my existence is 5’9”, has shaggy hair that keeps falling into his eyes, and is wearing a t-shirt that says, Pt. Evans Wrestling Team .

"Uh, hi." Rocky gives me a nervous smile when he greets me on the front step. I hear Ruby stomping down the stairs at my back. When Rocky darts his eyes in her direction, his features relax. Just a little.

"Rocky," I say as I extend my hand. His jeans aren't baggy. He doesn't have any facial tattoos or piercings. No sign that he's associated with any satanic cults. He looks, well, normal.

"Hi, Mr. Hudson." He takes my hand. I shake it, just a little too hard. So he knows what he's dealing with.

"Finn," I say. But wait. No. That's not quite right. I don't want him to feel too easy around here. "Mr. Finn," I correct. I open the door and usher him in.

"Hi, Rocky," Ruby says. She smiles and clasps her hands innocently behind her back. I try not to roll my eyes at her act. Ruby and I reached an agreement. She could go on a "date" with Rocky. But it had to be here. I promised to give them space and not to roll up the sleeves of my shirt over my biceps. She promised they'd keep her bedroom door open.

As I shut the front door, I notice something bright in my driveway. It's a yellow Mustang convertible.

"Whose car is that?" I ask, jerking a thumb over my shoulder.

"Mine. My grandpa gave it to me when I got my license." He holds up the key fob and pushes a button. The lights on the car flash and I hear the sound of doors locking. Show off. The key fob for my van doesn't even work anymore. I have to lock all the doors by hand.

"I'll give you a tour," Ruby says, her voice suddenly sweet and cherubic. "We have a really cool backyard." I try not to choke on my own spit. She hasn't stepped foot in the backyard in years. She said there were too many bugs back there. Rocky follows Ruby down the hall. I trail behind them. I know I promised to give them space, but I'm still meeting this kid.

"Where do you live, Rocky?" I ask.

As we enter the kitchen, Rocky turns to face me. "Stoneridge Heights," he says. I want to whistle at that. But I don't. Stoneridge Heights is a new gated community. All the houses are in the seven figure range. He's not going to be impressed by a tour of this place.

"Anyway," Ruby says, "this is the kitchen. The garage is in there." She waves at the garage door. It opens a crack and Rocky peaks in.

"Sweet squat rack," he says and my ears perk up. I walk in front of him and throw the door wide.

"You lift?” I ask him.

"Three times a week," he says. "Coach has us on this program and I also follow this account called the Gain Bros. They have a good lifting program."

"I heard of them," I tell him. "Their one trainer, is it Matt? He's a beast. He can deadlift like nine-hundred pounds or something."

"Yeah, bro. He's mad goals." Did Rocky just call me bro ? Am I a bro? "Oh fire," he says, walking to my dumbbells and running his hands across them. "You have adjustable dumbbells." He pushes his long hair back out of his face again and checks out my neatly stacked row of weights. I want to ask what fire means, but I don't want to sound lame. I assume it's a positive thing based on the way Rocky’s eyeing them with envy.

"Yeah. Right? Totally fire," I say, leaning an elbow against a stack of shelves. Ruby blows out a huffed breath behind me.

"Rocky, come on," she says. "I'll show you the rest of the house."

"Oh, sure," he says politely. But I can tell he's not done checking out my setup. And I lap up his admiration. Being a single father to two teenage girls, it's a rare occasion when I feel cool. So I might enjoy this moment a little too much.

"Anytime you want to come lift," I offer, trying to use my coolest bro voice. "I'll spot you."

"Cool man. Thanks." He nods.

Ruby drags Rocky out of the garage and I hear them wander around the house before they go upstairs. My phone buzzes and I see a text from Aimee. More like a series of texts. I guess sooner or later I'll have to confront her about last night. I panicked. I don’t know why. Except I do know why. Because I’m not used to anything in my life going well. And things were going well. Very well . And I didn’t trust the universe to be kind. I knew there had to be a catch. So I stopped it. I guess I’m not quite ready to jump. Not all the way.

I find myself wanting to text Aimee. To let her know that Rocky came over and I didn’t lose my shit. That I behaved myself. That he called my weights fire .

But I don’t.

I walk up the stairs for a drive by check in. Ruby's door is closed. I knock and open it. Rocky's sitting on the floor against the bed and Ruby is laying on the bed near his head, looking at something on his phone. They're laughing. Two guilty heads swivel and four eyes turn to me.

"This door stays open," I say and keep walking.

"Ugh. Sorry, my dad is so anal," I hear Ruby say. She's the one breaking our agreement. But I can be cool. I can let this one thing slide.

An hour later they're still in Ruby's room. The door is open a crack. What do highschoolers do in their rooms anyway? It’s the not knowing that eventually kills me.

I hover by the cracked door. It's quiet. Then there's Ruby giggling. Well, I hope it's Ruby. If Rocky giggled like that, I might have some questions. I should walk away. I should trust Ruby and give them their space. But I don't trust Ruby. And it's still too quiet. If they were at least talking, I wouldn't be so paranoid.

I knock on the door and open it again. Ruby and Rocky are both lounging on the floor, watching something on Ruby's tablet, sharing a set of earbuds. Oh. Yeah. Earbuds. That is also a possible reason for why they're so quiet. I hadn't thought about that. They're so distracted they don't even notice me in the doorway at first. I knock louder and Ruby jumps.

"Hey," I say.

"Dad!" Ruby screams at me, pulling her earbud out of her ear. Her voice is angry and full of venom. "Go away."

"Ruby." My voice is full of warning. By now, with my fifteen years of experience, I developed the full range of dad tones. The pinnacle of true parental talent lies in expressing any emotion, disgust, warning, anger, confusion, sadness, shock, and sarcasm, solely with the sound of your voice. Doesn't even matter what words you use. If you can say the word cow and communicate your complete disgust over a situation, that's it. You've reached pro level. I'm not one to brag, but I think I'm there.

Ruby crosses her arms and gives me a death stare from her cross-legged position on the floor. Suddenly, I'm done playing "nice" and being "cool" about things. If she wants to act like a toddler, I'm more than happy to treat her like one.

"Alright then. Playdate over. It's a school night," I say, opening the door all the way.

Ruby sighs the deepest loudest sigh on Earth.

"Uh, ok," Rocky says as pulls out his earbud and stands up. "Bye, Mr. Finn," he says to me, grabbing a backpack off the floor. Then he looks over at Ruby. "Bye. See you tomorrow."

"Bye, Rocky," I say as he brushes past me. He meets my eyes for a brief second and then looks down at his feet as he heads for the stairs. Yeah, buddy. That's right. Stay intimidated. You saw my weight room.

"I'll text you!" Ruby calls out to him. I watch Rocky slink down the stairs and let himself out. When he has completely disappeared and my house is Rocky-free once more, I cross my arms and look back at Ruby.

"Dad! That was so embarrassing. And you broke our deal." She throws her fists down at her sides.

"I was totally reasonable." I lean against the door frame.

"No, you weren't. You were monitoring us the whole time. You don't even trust me in my own house. It's pathetic."

"Ruby. I checked on you twice ."

"Well, Rocky is going to take me on a date this week," she says. "I'm not asking for your permission. I'm just telling you. So you don't call the freaking Coast Guard when I don't come home after school."

"Don't be ridiculous. I wouldn't call the Coast Guard," I mutter defensively. "They don't even deal with missing children."

"Whatever." She rolls her eyes. "You know what I mean. Maybe you should just treat me like a dog. Put a tracking collar on me or something." Honestly, that's not a terrible idea. Do they make something like that for kids?

"Ruby," I say, trying to remain as calm as possible even though she's acting like a spoiled brat and I really want to put her in her place. "Just be patient. And let's go one step at a time with this Rocky business, ok?"

"No. I'm done doing things on your schedule." She stops pacing and plops on her bed. A stuffed animal flies off and lands on the ground. I want to point out that she's not as grown up as she thinks she is. That she still sleeps with Potsy the bunny. But I have a feeling that won't be a productive turn in the conversation. "You just want to control everything," she mutters.

"Oh. Come on." I push off the door frame and set my hands on my hips. I'm running really low on patience right about now. "Do you even hear yourself?"

"No, Dad, you come on. Why am I stuck with you? It's so unfair. Mom was the one who always got me. She'd understand that I need independence. She'd let me go on a date with Rocky." What the fuck. Oh man. She went there. She hasn't pulled this card in a long time.

"How the fuck do you know what your mother would let you do?" I spit out at her.

"Because I remember her. Maybe you like to pretend she didn't exist. Maybe you can act like everything in this house is normal. But I can't. I remember her. She was kind and understanding and she always listened." Ruby's voice begins to falter. My shoulders sag at her words. I suddenly find myself trying to blink back tears. I'm afraid there's a bit of truth in everything she's saying. "And I miss her," she adds, shooting an arrow straight into my heart.

I can barely see through the water in my eyes. The top of my throat feels like it's closing in on itself. I don't have a good response. Because as unfair as it is, I'm always going to be the bad cop. Because Laurel will always be perfect in their eyes. She will always be perfect in my eyes. Fuck. She was just perfect. Plain and simple as that. I can't compete with her memory. And I don't want to.

I’ve always known it, but Ruby’s words are a clear reminder. We’re both looking for ways to fill the hole that Laurel left. When she died, Ruby and I took the brunt of it. Vivian was mostly too young. But Ruby and I both lost the same thing, the feeling of being a family. Laurel's warmth and kindness and affection. We both suffered deeply. And we've never really talked about it. And I'm a poor substitute for her mother.

"Yeah," I tell her. My voice is so broken and so ragged that I don't even recognize it. "All you have is me. And that's pretty shitty." I rub the tips of my fingers up and down my forehead, trying to ease the migraine setting in.

Ruby lays down and curls up on her bed. And for a moment, she's the little girl I remember again. I have the strongest urge to gather her up in my arms and squeeze her tight. I take a step toward her. And the second I do, she blurts out, "I don't want you." I stop, one foot in her room, one hand on her doorknob.

She doesn't have to say the rest. Because the rest of this sentiment is one I'm familiar with. What she doesn't have to say and what I already know is that she wishes it had been me. Me and not Laurel. Laurel was the better person. She deserved life more than I did. Everything she touched turned to sunshine, flowers, and exploded with laughter. Everything I touch becomes broken, ruined, and dead. And even though it's a thought I've had a thousand times, it hurts more than I expected it to. Because it's different when your own kid thinks it.

I turn around and carefully close Ruby's door. Darkness is tugging at my mind, threatening to pull me into its deep vortex. What the fuck am I doing wrong? My head pounds, like it's pushing against the walls of my head trying to burst from my skull. My thoughts are careening out of control. A wave of raw anger hits me. A force so strong that it nearly knocks me over and drags me under. Heat climbs up my body, starting at my feet and traveling all the way to the tip of my skull. I have to leave the house. Before I do something I'll regret.