“Where’s your mother? We haven’t had a chance to say hello yet,” Jackson commented. Sitting back in his chair, he sipped on his beer.
“She’s usually incredibly busy at these types of events. She sees to every detail. I guess it makes her feel like a part of the team.”
“Well, we should go find her and thank her for including us,” he suggested.
“Sounds like a great idea,” I agreed.
Leaving our happy spot, we all stood and wandered around, looking for my mother. She was nowhere in sight, so I suggested we head inside to continue our search for her.
Walking back into the air-conditioned house was like stepping inside a freezer. The cool air hit my body like a wall of ice, and my skin prickle everywhere.
“Here, take my jacket,” Jackson offered, sliding the dark gray blazer off his shoulders to hang on mine.
“Thanks. Why don’t we try my dad’s office? Maybe she’s paying one of the caterers or something.”
We rounded the corner, walking down the long hallway, and we stopped just outside the office. I held up my hand to knock when I heard my father’s voice, and I stopped.
“I can’t do anything about the fact that her boyfriend has a son. You figure it out. This was your idea.”
“Well, she wasn’t dating anyone when I suggested it, but we’ll work something out. Right now, we need your family intact. When your bid for presidency is officially announced, those reporters will start digging. An estranged, crazy daughter is exactly what we don’t need. Fix it, Doug. Fix it now.”
Tears stung my eyes, and wetness spilled down my cheeks. Jackson’s hard chest engulfed me, and my body buried itself into him. I barely remember moving. Everything felt slow and out of sync. As the hallway blurred past us, the last thing I saw was a family portrait. My own eyes stared back at me—warning me, cautioning me that one day this would all be over because every fairy tale must end eventually.
Liv
The phone rang for the tenth time that morning, and I threw it across the room. After the ninth unanswered call, shouldn’t people start to understand that I didn’t want to talk—ever?
I was the therapist, not them.
I’d sort through my own shit—eventually.
It just wouldn’t be today or tomorrow…perhaps not even this millennium.
Someday, I’d muddle through it all. I’d be fine.
I was a survivor.
I didn’t remember much of what had happened after my dad shattered my heart with that single conversation I’d overheard.
I vaguely recalled Jackson escorting us away and helping me into the car. After arriving at his house, he’d tucked me into his bed and held me until we had both fallen asleep. When I’d woken up and tiptoed out, I’d hated myself a little more every time a floorboard creaked beneath my feet. I’d run across the lawns separating our houses, back to my own house, and I hadn’t been back since. That had been nearly two days ago.
Why was I shutting him out?
I had no idea. Why do any of us do the stupid things we do when we are angry and upset? All I knew was, I was devastated.
Therefore, my entire life must be devastating, right?
It seemed logical to me.
While consuming the double fudge with nuts ice cream at nine o’clock in the morning, I tried not to think of the patients I was letting down once again by calling in sick. For two days now, I’d disrupted their days, messed with their schedules, and dishonored their trust.
I was a failure.
A loud bang sounded at my door, startling me so much that I almost dropped the nearly empty pint on the floor. I turned to find Jackson barging through it.
“Space—I’ve given it. Now, we talk.”
“What?”
“The first rule I have is to always give you space when you seem to need it. I never want you to feel smothered, so when you disappear on me in the middle of the night, I take that as a cue. But it’s been long enough, Liv. Twenty-four hours should be enough time for you to figure out some shit. If not, we’ll do it together. I’m about to go apeshit from sitting over there, waiting for you to give the all-clear.”
“You didn’t go to work?” I set the ice cream container down on the coffee table.
“No. Of course, I didn’t. Do you think I would just leave you and go to work?”
I shrugged.
“You do. Jesus, Liv. Why haven’t you answered any phone calls?” He began pacing in front of me.
“I didn’t feel like talking,” I answered.
“What are you so damn afraid of?” he bellowed, his hands going through his sandy brown hair in frustration.
“Nothing!” I answered back. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
“That’s a damn lie.”
I jutted out my chin and angrily crossed my arms over my chest as I tried to keep the tears at bay.
“Goddamn it, Liv! When are you going to realize that no matter what those two people do to you, it has no bearing on you or the life you’ve created here?”