What Happened at East Houston Street

Chapter 35

Lauren sat at the far end of the subway car, her red eyes hidden behind her Wayfarers. She leaned her head against the wall, her tired body bobbing up and down with the rumble of the train. She got off at the Marcy Avenue stop and walked up the station stairs like a zombie. After Stephanie had said no to her proposal, she was shattered, barely being able to breathe from crying so hard. Once she was able to stop sobbing, she and Stephanie had a long talk. She sat at the dining room table across from her, staring past her out the window. The younger girl laid out all of her reasons why they couldn't be together anymore. Lauren winced at remembering the recent conversation, as she stopped at a street corner to pull up a map of Williamsburg on her phone.

As she zoomed in on her phone screen, she was distracted by the memory of Stephanie's voice. "I wouldn't be able to sleep at night knowing that I caused you and your family so much pain. They'll make it so hard for us. Think about Pete. I love you too much to let you do this to yourself...." Lauren wiped a tear from her cheek.

She finally made it to her destination. She walked to the first floor apartment and before she could knock, Devi appeared in the doorway, immediately pulling her into a tight hug. She ran her hand up and down her back, whispering comforting words into the top of her head. A minute later, Lauren was pulled into the spacious loft-style living room. The space was bright and open, but also cluttered. Two bicycles hung on the brick wall. Several easels that propped large paintings were scattered around the room. Makeshift tables made from empty milk crates layed around the big sofa, the same one that Devi had in her old apartment in Boston. Devi moved a stack of acrylic paints from an ottoman.

"Come on, Laur." She patted the sofa cushion and took a seat on the ottoman. "Sit down and talk to me."

Lauren laid her bag down by the door and sat. She rubbed her forehead and said in a shaky voice, "Stephanie broke up with me two days ago."

Devi sat up straighter at this, her eyes wide. "WHAT?" She moved over to the sofa to sit next to her friend. "Why?"

Lauren sniffled, fighting back tears. She didn't want to cry. She was tired of being miserable for the past few days. "It's a long story and I don't really want to talk about it right now, if that's okay, Dev." She looked at her friend with sad eyes.

Devi gave her a reassuring nod. "Okay, babe. Let's get you high then." She jumped off the couch and walked to a drawer in the kitchen that was attached to the living room. She pulled out a bag of marijuana.

"My roommate, Ben, sells the best shit! You're going to forget your own name after two hits of this stuff." She emptied the weed into a thin paper and rolled it into a full joint. She handed it to Lauren, along with a tie-dye colored lighter. "I'll let you do the honors!"

Lauren lit the joint and took a long drag, coughing on the exhale. She inhaled again and passed it back to Devi. She sat back against the sofa and stared at the brick wall. Her mind was beginning to go blank and she liked it. Devi handed the joint back to her and got off the couch, going to the kitchen again and uncorking a bottle of Charles Shaw wine. "Let's get super wasted!" she said, a mischievous grin on her face. Lauren smirked at her, feeling a sense of gratitude for that day on the field hockey field when she met her best friend.
After her third glass of cheap wine and two more hits from the joint, she laid down on the sofa and closed her eyes. Not long after, sleep took over and she stayed in that position until the next morning.

Cal pressed the end button on the call he made to Lauren's cellphone. He had already made four attempts, but was unable to reach her. After he hung up earlier with a furious Mason, who informed him that his daughter had left Brent for another man, he tried to get a hold of her.  After the final attempt to get in touch with her, he threw his phone across the room and let out a loud, "FUCK!" Between finding Kitty passed out on the bedroom floor and now having to deal with this, he felt like he was about to explode. His rage got the better of him and he swept his arms across the console table in the living room, knocking all of the framed photos to the ground. He moved to the couch and grabbed a decorative pillow, tearing at its corners, trying his hardest to rip it apart. When he didn't have the strength to break it open, he threw it down on the ground and kicked it towards the wall, where it struck a framed family portrait. The large picture swayed upon impact and now hung crooked. Looking at the tilted faces of his family on the wall, he fell to his knees and hung his head low. His body shook as he rocked back and forth, now wailing. He pulled at his hair as his eyes darted around the room. He saw the mess he made and cried even louder.

In a moment of clarity, he rose and ran up the stairs to the master bedroom, where he dove into the walk-in closet and pushed aside a group of suits on the rack. He punched a code into the wall safe and opened the metal door. Reaching inside, he grabbed the 9mm Luger and slammed the safe shut. He fell to his knees and placed the barrel of the gun beneath his chin, pointing it towards the ceiling. He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer for his family.

He'd always wondered what it would be like to shoot himself. Would it be instant? What if he missed? He was afraid to be in pain if he did. It would take days for anyone to find him. He opened his eyes, still holding the gun to his chin. The first thing he saw was a yellow dress that belonged to his wife. He remembered that she had worn it to Pete's high school graduation the previous June. She was so happy that day. She had even let him kiss her more than usual, allowing him to share in the joy of their son's big day. He closed his eyes again, lowering the gun from his head and dropping it to the ground. He laid in the fetal position and cried like a baby for an hour.

It was quiet in the closet. He didn't remember dozing off, but his mind had gone blank for a while. What pulled him out of his stupor was the faint ringing of his cell phone that was downstairs on the living room floor. He didn't move, taking a moment to get his bearings again. He thought back to a Lamaze class he had taken with his wife when she was pregnant with Lauren. Remembering some of the exercises, he focused on his breathing and shot quick and short spurts of air in and out of his mouth. He started to feel better, so when he heard his cell phone ring again, he plied himself off the floor and headed downstairs.

Mason was calling him. He rolled his eyes and answered. "Hi Dad."

He started right in without saying hello first. "Did you talk to your daughter yet?" His tone was impatient and angry.

"No, Dad. I haven't," he replied. "She's not picking up and she's not at work. Abby told me when I talked to her that she left a note at the apartment letting her know she'd be in New York for the week."

Mason wrinkled his brow. "New York? Who does she know in New York?" he wondered aloud. He snapped his fingers, "Ah! I bet it's that Talbot boy, Rudolf's grandson! They met once at the club years ago. I noticed him ogling her!" He paced and continued to think aloud. "Actually, son, that wouldn't be such a bad thing. Rudy and Nancy left a clothing empire for their family! Way more than what Roland has! Okay, I can work with that. I feel better now, how about you, Cal?"

Cal was speechless on the other end of the phone. His mouth hung open, not entirely shocked at his father's blatant ruthless greed, but still a bit taken aback by the brazenness of his commentary.

"Cal!" he heard his father shout on the other end.

He shook his head and responded, "Yeah, I don't know who she's in New York with, Dad. Give her a couple of days. I'm sure this is a hard time for her too, you know."

Mason jeered, "Listen, Cal, I don't care if she's having a hard time. This is all her fault! She made this mess for us and she needs to get over here and CLEAN IT UP!" He was raging at this point.

Cal inhaled a sharp breath and squeezed his eyes shut. It took everything he had to not lay into his father and give him a good, expletive-filled response. He knew that it would do more harm than good though. They were both stressed out at this point. He remembered the Lamaze class again and began normalizing his breath.

Mason could hear his son's steady breathing on the other end. It began to calm him down as well. He recovered his senses and said, "I could give my friend, Ted, a call. He used to own that P.I. firm and could probably help us find her. He lives in Boca though, so I'm not sure how quickly he can get us anything."

Cal shook his head. "I'll just ask Pete to call her, Dad. She always answers for him."

"Okay, good, good," the older man agreed. "Well, I'll let you go. Call your son. Keep me updated, Cal. That's an order!" He ended the call without saying goodbye.