Chapter 4

Two mornings later, I sat with my head pounding as an incessantly shrill ring bounced off the walls of my office. It had been going on for a while and I wondered where on earth Lyra was.
I groaned and was just about to pick it up from her desk myself when she came running and picked it up.
Finally, I sighed internally and rolled my eyes.
“Hello?” her voice echoed softly outside, “Yes? Yes, of course. She’s in today, I can ask if she has time for an audience. Of course. Just a moment.”
Sitting up straighter, I started to fix my papers and set them away. I’d have to get some coffee with Marcus when I was done with this. Some water would do until then, and so I poured myself out a glass to sip on.
“Lilith…” she sounded tentative by the door, and it made me anxious.
“Yes?”
“Um…” she pulled her lips in tightly, “I’m not sure how to word it right in light of your…health, but…Mr. Boulevard–”
I dropped my glass at the sound of his name, and it shattered against the ground. Shards of glass ricocheted against my feet, leaving small, stinging nicks on my skin that jolted me back to reality. Lyra watched with her mouth agape and I stared back at her, blank and calm. Not collected, though.
“Are you–”
“What?” I blinked, unmoving and unphased, “I’m fine. Have someone clean this up. He can come up.”
We sat across from each other at either end of my desk. My foot had a mind of its own, fidgeting and tapping around under my desk. I had my arms under control to show a strong front that was cold and unaffected by his presence. But he had such tender eyes.
“I can understand if you feel…um, strangely about me being here.”
“Oh, not at all.” I said quickly.
“Hmm.” He sighed, “I’ll get on with it then. I came here to…hear from you myself. About the charges against my son and his mother. Emily, she…um, she had a few choice words about you.”
“Any which were believable?”
“She’s a bad liar, admittedly.” He said with a soft groan as he shifted in his seat. He wasn’t too old in age but the years hadn’t been kind to him. He looked a decade older than he actually was, with greying hair and bones creaky from long hours of labor. He had sun spots on his face from working in the family’s fishery business.
“Mark wasn’t the best of men.” I nodded my head lightly, “I don’t believe he’s entirely to blame for it. His mother also had a huge part in my grief.”
“I read the police reports.” He rubbed his knee nervously, “I felt compelled to look into him for some reason. Knowing him the little I do, being in the police meant there would be cover ups with the story. He was his mother’s son, after all. It’s hard to win a case against them.”
Leaning forward a little, I decided to prod into the matter as much as I could, “You sound like you know what she’s like.”
He nodded sadly, looking up at the ceiling to blink away tears before meeting my eyes again.
“She wasn’t a bad person.” He pleaded with a light shake of his head, “She was a sweet woman and I wish I understood where it all went wrong. We were too young when we had Mark. Fresh out of college in our twenties and she got pregnant. We had to get married, it wasn’t a choice.”
I sat back carefully, readying myself for the truth of it all.
“I didn’t want a child,” he admitted remorsefully, “and it’s not like God had sent me a message or anything, but I just knew deeply that the time wasn’t right. The circumstance wasn’t, at least. We’d both done everything in our power to be careful, but some things are meant to happen.”
A deep breath. He patted his knee to give himself comfort and continued.
“I asked her to abort the child, but she wanted him. I don’t know why she wanted him, but she did. So much. And it didn’t make sense because she hated children normally and there was no way around it, until Mark came along. But Emily, she just…wanted too much. Far too much than I could give her, so I got up and left. It was the biggest mistake I’ve ver made and I think it drove her mad having do it all on her own. But to reach a point where she’d enabled and taken part in the abuse she did…it’s heartbreaking. And I’m so sorry.”
My body was cold with zero sympathy running through my blood stream. Somehow, I could see there was something wrong with this whole situation. It was fishy.
“Why are you in New York, Mr. Boulevard?”
“Hm?”
“You’re in New York, all the way from Boston, just for a conversation that could’ve happened over a phone call.”
“You wouldn’t have believed it was me, and I’m just here for the truth.”
“Fair point,” I shrugged, “but…I’m not sure how much of the truth you’re here for.”
“If Emily’s bothered you about the case, then I can take care of her for you.”
“I think you need to look out for yourself, Mr. Boulevard.” I shook my head, “You know very well she’s getting married and yet you indulge her in infidelity.”
He looked away towards the glass wall with shame in his eyes, the sunlight glinting against the tears on his face “I’ve never loved anyone the way I loved her,” he whispered with a quiver in his throat, “and maybe I shouldn’t have left but…”
“You put yourself first,” I completed for him, “and I really don’t blame you. That was the smartest thing you’ve done, even if it was the hardest.”
“It was so difficult.” He admitted with a light sob and let his face fall into his hands. I wasn’t sure if he needed to know the truth about Mark. Maybe it didn’t matter right now. He was already grieving his son’s death, and now the woman he still loved but couldn’t recognize was marrying someone else for money, all the while using him for emotional and physical intimacy.
Emily had spread herself out way too thin.
I got up from my seat and walked to him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“I’ll tell you what you need to know.”
I forgot my routine coffee with Marcus as Mr. Boulevard and I talked. It wasn’t until noon when I received a text from him that I promptly declined without an explanation.
“Would you like to continue this over lunch?”
“Of course.” He got up and put his jacket on, “Where would you like to go? It’s on me.”
“No, please.” I put a hand out as I lifted my coat off the hook, “You’ve come all the way here, this is the least I can do.”
And so we walked, and talked about our current lives as we made our way past quaint restaurants until he stopped at a modest Korean place. As we headed in, his face brightened up like he was home.
“I’d often stop by here during deliveries.” He sighed and took a seat, “I became good friends with the manager back in the day. She passed on a few years ago because of a liver problem. Drank too much soju. She lived a good life, though.”
“It’s a nice place.” I commented, and it really was. Light wood floorboards transparent yellow light bulbs, and a large bonsai right in the center of the place. It felt homely.
We slid into a booth and sifted through the menu. I settled on a small plate of dumplings with a mint lemonade soda and told Mr. Boulevard to not hold back. The server seemed to recognize him and she came over with a smile, laughing brightly and engaging in quick chatter.
“Ah, is this your daughter?” she asked and reached out for my hand to shake, “Ahh, kyopta!”
“Just acquaintances.” I smiled at her.
“Ah, ok, ok. Should I get the drinks first?”
“Yes, for me.”
“I’ll have my drink first as well.” Mr. Boulevard said and took off his jacket to get comfortable. Once she was gone, he and I started to talk again. I explained my past with Mark as gently as I could without being too graphic, but his solemn face told me he understood exactly what had happened.
“I’m ashamed.” He sighed, “To think that…that is who my son was. It makes me feel sick, and I sit here with no way to make it up to you.”
I reach forward to lightly touch his wrist, but his phone rang before I could. Emily’s name popped up on the screen. He stared at the phone for a while until he reached out to cut the call and block her number on the spot. I was taken aback and stared at him.
“She’s…nothing to me now.”
And I believed him because he’d done this years ago. Kicked her out of his life.
“You’re the first person who has believed me on this.”
He looked even more pained at that. “Emily must’ve known, right? She should’ve stopped him.”
“I don’t think she believed in it because to her, dating is technically consent.”
“Bullshit.” He spat under his breath, “I don’t understand how she could be so vile. I’m starting to question everything I ever had with her. The marriage, my son. Everything.”
Knowing I needed to calm him down, I said the only thing that would come to mind, “Some people change for the worse, I guess.”
And I wished I could tell him that Mark wasn’t his son. And that maybe he would find his peace in it, knowing he did not have a rapist for a child. But I couldn’t see that happening. Not yet.
It wasn’t my news to break.