Read Story: SEASON 2 EPISODE 87

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The door opened before I finished knocking, and a light brown eye peered out of the inch of visible space. Even though all I could see was a single eye, I saw the recognition in it.

The door shut, and I heard the rattle of a chain. Then it flew open, and there stood my old neighbor—Phoebe Lucas.

I hadn’t seen her since the day I gathered the last of my things and left the house with my sister. Right before I left, there had been an emotionally charged moment between us as she broke down at learning about my move out of the apartment. I’d been a staple in that complex for years, and one of the few she’d been able to rely on.

She watched my cat. I watered her ficus. She’d occasionally checked in on my sister after her return from LA, making sure she was okay while I was at work. We took care of each other in small ways.

Those years of closeness, followed by the realization that she was going to lose one of the closest people in her life outside of her family, had culminated in a kiss. I hadn’t seen it coming until her lips were on mine.

Then, I returned it. Not for long, but long enough.

Now that I stood there staring into her red-rimmed eyes, I felt a great swell of guilt.

I hadn’t checked on her once since that night.

I hadn’t followed up to let her know that the kiss didn’t weird me out.

I hadn’t reached out to see how she was doing after she cried in my arms.

I hadn’t inquired to see how she and Jim were doing, or if Nate—her son—was starting to speak in complete sentences.

I hadn’t thanked her for being there every time I needed her.

“Hey, Phoebe,” I said, almost calling her Mrs. Lucas the way I used to. She’d never been that much older than me. Now, after everything that happened to me, calling her that felt ridiculous.

She threw herself at me. Her arms were around my neck, and her body vibrated as she began crying silently into my shoulder.

Feeling awkward, I glanced both ways down the hall to make sure no one was witnessing the display, and then walked both of us into the apartment and kicked the door shut.

I tightened my arms around her and hugged her close.

And then loud, muffled sobs erupted from where her face was buried in my shirt.

“Shhh,” I said, stroking her back with one hand while holding her close. “It’s okay.”

I didn’t say anything else… just held her. It was the least I could do, and for the moment, maybe that’s all she needed.

And for the next few minutes, all she did was let it out. I stood in the foyer of the little apartment and just held her as she unleashed a torrent of tears into my shirt. I could feel it spreading across the fabric as this strong woman released possibly years of pent-up emotion.

And I just held tight and let her cry as long as she needed.

It wasn’t exactly unpleasant.

Despite the situation, I couldn’t help but notice that Phoebe felt good in my arms—warm and delicate. She had a build closer to Erin’s, with a slender frame that was more suited for a dancer or runner. She wasn’t as short as my assistant, though. Phoebe was five and a half feet tall, giving her build more of a lithe, coltish quality than Erin’s dainty one.

Phoebe’s father had been a full-blooded native american, so she had inherited a lot of those qualities. Fine-boned, with high cheekbones and a pointed chin… she had small, almond eyes that shone with an intense empathy. Her nose was bold without dominating her face, straight and elegant, and her skin glowed with a natural golden tan. Her dark hair was styled in soft, feathered waves and tickled my nose. It smelled vaguely flowery, mingling with the faintly salty scent of her tears. Her lips had a natural, dark tint to them, and she often wore a dazzling smile that betrayed her kind heart, even if it was frequently marred by sadness. She was a beautiful woman with a nurturing soul.

It amazed me that Jim Lucas had landed someone like her.

Holding this beautiful woman made the primitive part of my brain associate her with the height of feminine vulnerability. It made me want her… to give her the things she wanted… needed. The things Jim never could.

However, that darker part of me wrestled with the more civilized, empathetic half of my brain that was concerned with the level of distress my former neighbor was in. Her husband had left her and had taken her son.

It was criminal. Phoebe didn’t deserve any of this. She should have had a partner who cherished the sweet, kind, beautiful person she was. She should have been surrounded by more friends than she had time for.

And she should have her son.

“Hey,” I finally said.

She didn’t respond.

“Phoebe?”

I felt her face shift on my shoulder, and then she slowly lifted it until too-bright pools of brown peered up at me through a mess of brown hair. Even at this angle, I could see how red her eyes were.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

She sniffled, her eyes squeezed shut, and she pressed her mouth into my shoulder as she let out another few sobs. Fresh tears fell from the corners of her eyes.

Eventually, I got her to calm down enough to tell me what happened.

According to Phoebe, Jim came home from work, got drunk, and watched television while ignoring his wife and two-year-old son—same old story.

Phoebe tried to confront him about it, and it quickly escalated into a fight. She tried to stand up to her bully of a husband, which I was happy to hear, but it ended with her getting knocked out. By the time she awoke, her husband and her child were gone.

No note. No explanation.

I managed to move us to the couch while she recounted the story, and by the time she got to the end, she was lying on it with her head in my lap, sobbing once more. I spent the next ten minutes letting her cry, letting her ask questions like ‘why would he do this’ without being able to provide answers. I simply stroked her hair and waited for her to settle down.

Eventually, she did, removing her head from my lap and drawing her knees to her chest as she sat beside me.

I should’ve left him a long—lo-long time ago,” she said, gasping between the words.

“You were trying to make it work,” I offered, trying to give her an out from self-doubt. Even I didn’t believe my words, though. I had thought the same thing countless times.

Phoebe shook her head. “I was just too afraid. I didn’t have anywhere to go, and now he has Nate. I’m a bad m-mom…”

“Hey!” I said. I mirrored her by hugging my knees and resting my feet on the couch. I leaned in a little closer to her so that our shoulders brushed. “I can’t think of any moms better than you. You did everything for Nate. It’s not your fault that Jim is a monster.”

“You’re too kind,” she said, shaking her head. “But no… I’ve been lying to myself… thinking he could change… that there was s-still hope. He hasn’t been himself in years.”

“Where did you two meet?” I asked, realizing that I didn’t know much about her past.

“High school,” she said. “He saved me from my parents.”

“They abused you?”

“My step-dad did,” she said. “My dad died when I was young. My mom remarried. He was good to her. Not so much to me, and she turned a blind eye to all of it.”

“Jesus,” I breathed.

“Jim and I met when I was a Sophomore and he was a Senior. He was on the football team. Everyone loved him. All the girls wanted to date him, but he chose me, and he was my world. He knew what my home was like, and the moment he graduated, we left South Dakota. I haven’t seen my mom or step-dad since.”

“And you came to New York?”

“Eventually,” she said. “We were in Philly for a while, but jobs were hard to get. He got fired twice because of his temper, and then heard about some openings in New York.”

“Were you always a stay-at-home wife?” I asked.

Phoebe nodded. “Jim insisted. He always believed the wife should take care of the home and that the man should take care of her.” Her face twisted a little in disgust. “Besides… there’s not a whole lot of jobs out there for a high-school dropout anyway.”

“You never finished?”

“No,” she said. “Jim always discouraged finishing my education, and he always put food on the table, so I could never see the justification.”

“Fuck, Phoebe,” I whispered.

She looked up at me, her eyes bright with tears yet to be shed, and smiled wryly. “One heck of a stupid life, huh?”

“No,” I was quick to say.

“It’s okay,” she said, looking back down at the floor. “I’ve had a lot of time to regret my decisions.”

Then her gaze shot back up at me, a look of horror on her face. “Oh my word! I didn’t mean that! Nate… I don’t know what I’d do without him!”

“I know,” I quickly said. “Like I said, you’re one of the best moms I’ve ever known.”

Her face screwed up and it looked like she was about to cry again.

“You notified the police?”

She nodded and took a couple of breaths to get herself under control. “They said they’re doing everything they can, but they aren’t sure where he went. They called Jim’s parents, but they don’t know anything.”

“I called you as soon as the police left,” Phoebe said, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry… I just didn’t know who else to reach out to, and I thought…”

She trailed off, looking a little guilty. Fortunately, I’d already guessed at her primary motivation for reaching out to me.

“You thought I could help… because of the money.”

“Oh god, Marcus… that sounds so—”

“No!” I quickly cut her off. “I’m not offended! I’m glad you called, Phoebe.”

She looked like she was on the verge of another bout of crying, so I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a side hug, giving her a few minutes.

“Phoebe,” I said once she settled down, “would you be willing to do whatever it takes to get Nate back?”

Her head came up so fast that she almost clipped my chin, and the look in her eyes suggested that I’d just told her that I’d already located Nate and had him here in the building.

“Yes! Anything!”

The way she looked at me with desperate hope… so close to me that she was all I could smell…