by Carian Cole
“I eat enough protein. And it’s not being picky, I have an eating disorder and an unhealthy mental relationship with food.”
His lips press together in a hard line. “This is something your crackpot mother did to you. I never should’ve left you there with that nut job.”
So, we’re going to start off by jumping right into the mess. Game on, then.
“Actually, my ARFID most likely stemmed from eating spoiled food as a child and having food poisoning several times. And choking. If I recall, you were still living there when all this was happening. She’s not the only one to blame.”
He cuts into his chicken aggressively, and the squeak of the knife against the plate makes me feel queasy. “I admit, I wasn’t paying much attention back then. I thought your mother was taking care of you.”
“I was taking care of myself.”
Lynn smiles sympathetically at me, and I’m sure that behind her smile, she’s glad she sent her son someplace else for the night so he didn’t have to witness this drama. I wonder if she knew my father abandoned me as a child when she married him.
I suppose most skeletons escape the closet after marriage.
“You’re right,” my father says, holding my gaze with his. “And you deserved better. I’m sorry for all of it. For your mother, for not doing better, for leaving you there. I wish I could go back and change it.”
“I do, too,” I say sadly.
“I just hope you can try to forgive me and we can start over. I contacted your mother numerous times trying to get in touch with you. For years I sent money, but I never knew if it was given to you or used to care for you. She rarely answered my calls or messages. She finally gave me your phone number a few weeks ago, after I called her nonstop for months.”
My mashed potatoes suddenly feel too thick in my mouth. I count to five and breathe through my nose and wait for my throat to relax so I can swallow. I know better than to have serious conversations when I’m eating or drinking—I just thought I could get through this one without an episode.
When the potatoes go down I take a sip of water and turn my attention back to my father, who’s watching me with a distraught look.
“I had no idea you ever tried to contact me, or sent money.”
A frown contorts his face. “I’m sure she took the money and used it to buy more crap.”
I nod in agreement, thinking of the giraffe in the living room and the twenty-eight boxes of fabric softener piled in the hallway. “Either that, or she never opened the envelopes and just threw them onto a pile.”
“I’m sorry, Skylar. I should’ve taken you with me, or checked in on you. Being married to her really took a toll on me, and at the end, I just wasn’t myself, and I had to get away. I hate that I left the way I did.”
I put my fork down and level my eyes at him. It’s obvious he’s sorry. I can see it in his eyes and hear it in the regret dripping from his voice. I want to try to forgive him, but I also want him to realize the severity of what his abandonment did to me, which goes way beyond a few missing checks.
“I can understand that,” I say. “Unfortunately, I couldn’t get away from her. Things got much worse after you left. The house was infested with bugs and mice. There was trash and rotting food everywhere. The kitchen and bathroom became unusable. I had to lock myself in my bedroom to keep her out. I had to climb through my bedroom window to get in and out of the house because the front door was barricaded. I had a tiny fridge in my room to keep fresh water and food in. I had to take showers at a truck stop and at school. And I had to put cat litter in a bucket in my closet to piss and shit.”
My father and Lynn cringe at my words, but I don’t care. If I had to live these horrible things, then they can hear them.
“Finally, I married a man in his thirties and moved in with him so I’d have a safe place to live and medical insurance to get on a treatment plan. I left high school early, missing the prom and graduation and things someone my age should enjoy, because I was bullied into a state of being unhealthy. That’s the toll you and mom took on me, because you both forgot about me.”
Lynn is sobbing quietly and my father’s complexion has gone deathly pale. I don’t feel one bit sorry for them.
“Skylar…” My father’s voice catches and he coughs into his napkin. “No apology can ever be enough to make up for what you’ve been through. I know that. I understand if you want nothing to do with me. I deserve it. But if you can find it in your heart to try, I promise I won’t let you down again. I want a second chance.”
I push my plate away. “Part of my therapy is forgiveness, so I’d like to try.”
He smiles weakly. “I’d like that very much.”
“We truly are sorry for everything,” Lynn says, even though she has nothing to do with any of it. I suppose she feels guilty by association. “We want you to know you can stay here for as long as you want. We have room. We’d love to have you.”
“I think I’ll stay for a little while, but then I plan to rent a studio apartment back home until I figure out what I want to do with my life.”
“Have you put any thought into college?” Lynn asks. “We’d be more than happy to help you.” She’s under the assumption that I graduated early to focus on college.
They also don’t know I’ve won the lottery.
“College isn’t for me,” I say politely. “I’m going to take some online classes, though.”
“That’s good,” my father says optimistically. “And what about the man you’re living with? Have you put up some boundaries like we talked about? Filed for divorce or an annulment?”
During my first phone call with my father a few weeks ago, I was lonely and upset, and probably word-vomited a little too much. I got caught up in having my father finally show concern and care for me. I told him things had gotten complicated with Jude, and feelings were involved, but I didn’t tell him we’ve crossed more lines than a tic-tac-toe board. My father tried to give his best advice, and in that moment, I wanted to act on his advice, because I desperately ache to have love and acceptance from my parents.
But now, I’m not sure I need anyone’s advice or acceptance.
“I’m thinking about all of it,” I answer. “It’s just a difficult, confusing situation with him.”
Lynn is shaking her head and looking horrified. “Forgive me, but that situation sounds very inappropriate to me. It’s sick for a grown man to be married to, and living with, a young girl. It sounds like he took advantage of you and could hurt you—”
“He didn’t,” I interrupt. “Jude is a good man. He cares about me. The only man who’s ever hurt me is sitting next to you.”
“Honey,” my dad says, as if he’s talking to a child. “We’re sure he cares about you in his own way, but it’s still a very questionable arrangement. It’s not normal or healthy, and, as your father, I want you out of that house. We’re both very worried about you.”
I don’t expect them to understand. They haven’t been in my shoes, or Jude’s, so it’s impossible for them to truly grasp the depth of our feelings for each other.
“I respect your opinions, but the bottom line is, you don’t know him. Or me. I’m working on figuring my life out, but I won’t listen to you bad mouth him. He’s been very good to me. None of us are perfect, we’ve all made mistakes, and we’re all doing our best,” I point out. “But I can assure you, he’s not some kind of predator.”
I can’t deal with judgement and assumptions about my relationship with Jude anymore. I left high school to escape that behavior from others. I can’t sort out my thoughts if others are constantly throwing in their two cents when they don’t even know us or what we’ve been through.
“We just want what’s best for you,” my father says.
Everyone keeps saying that, but I don’t know if anyone—not even myself—knows what’s best for me.
Chapter 49
Skylar
I’m starting to feel homesick.
I mis
s watching the chipmunks run along the old rock wall in Jude’s backyard.
I miss working at the boutique, taking photos, and talking to Rebecca.
I miss hanging out with Megan.
I miss my bed.
I miss Cassie and her wiggly butt when I walk through the door.
I miss my face-to-face appointments with my therapist.
I miss all things Jude—our movie nights, his damn sexy smirks, his gray eyes, having dinner together, listening to music, hearing about his day, his quiet intensity.
Ugh.
I’ve enjoyed spending time with my father, Lynn, and the ever-quiet Sam, but their house doesn’t feel like home to me. It’s too big, too cold, too motel-ish.
For almost a month, I’ve been at my dad’s, and a little internal clock is telling me it’s time to make a decision. I can stay here in Connecticut and get my own place; start over in an entirely new atmosphere with my father and his family. Or, I can get an RV and trek across the country, leaving everything and everyone behind. But somewhere along the way, the appeal of doing that has faded. Being alone in a big box on wheels feels exactly like that now—being alone.
Alone doesn’t seem exciting anymore.
Instead, I find myself thinking about staying in New Hampshire. Staying close to Megan. Taking on more responsibility at the boutique. And even though I know running into Jude from time to time would be the equivalent of getting stabbed in the heart over and over again, it’s almost better than not being near him.
How odd it is that I have enough money to do basically anything I want, and all I want to do is go back home?
I thought being away from Jude and the constant emotional rollercoaster of our relationship would be helpful, but being away from him is even worse.
I’m contemplating all these options while sitting in the kitchen, watching my father prune his perfectly round shrubs in the backyard, when my cell phone rings.
“Hello?” I say.
“Skylar?” I instantly recognize Aunt Suzy’s voice.
“Aunt Suzy,” I say. “What a surprise. How are you?”
“Al and I are both doing well. How are you doing? How are things with your father?”
“It’s good. I’m glad I came to reconnect with him. We’ve made some great progress.”
“Honey that’s wonderful,” she says, and then pauses. “I absolutely hate to make phone calls like this, but I’m afraid I don’t have a choice.”
A chill courses through my veins. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine, but Lucky is in bad shape.”
I inhale a breath then slowly release it. Aunt Suzy is obviously still hell-bent to ship us, even though she knows, from the last time we spoke, that me and Jude haven’t been talking much other than to just say hi via text.
“I miss him, too, Aunt Suzy but this is for the best. Last time I talked to him, he was excited about taking over the bar. I think if we both just stay focused on the positives, we’ll be okay.”
Reciting advice from my therapist is easy.
Actually believing it is a different story.
“No sweetheart, it’s not that. He was in an accident on the job site. I can’t believe this was his last project and then this happens.”
“Wait, what?” Every cell of my body has jumped into a panic. “Did you say he was hurt? Hurt how?”
“Apparently he fell through a floor. He hit his head and was out for almost five minutes according to that guy Bob who works for him. He has a severe concussion. When we got to the hospital, he kept saying where am I, where am I, where am I, repeatedly for hours after it happened. He was very disoriented. Al and I were terrified he had brain damage.”
“Oh my God!” I say, running up to my room. “Is he alright? Is he home?”
“He’s still in the hospital. He’s doing better, but I thought you should know.”
“When did this happen?” I grab my suitcases and start throwing my things into them.
“Yesterday morning. He was pretty bad all day, having difficulty remembering things and slurring his words. He was dizzy and vomiting off and on. But today he seems much better. Al and I just left the hospital so he could rest.”
My heart is racing so fast I feel like I’m going to pass out. “Is he okay, though? Is he going to be okay?”
“The doctor said he’ll be fine; he just needs to rest and take it easy for a few weeks. They said he can go home tomorrow or the day after. He also has a hairline skull fracture, a fractured tailbone, and his back is very bruised.”
“Oh my God,” I say again, wondering how he fell through a floor. “I’m leaving here as soon as I can. I have to be there with him.”
“I don’t mean to worry you, honey, and I know things aren’t all rainbows with you two, but I thought you’d want to be there. And I’m sure he’d feel better if you were there.”
“I wish you had called me sooner. I would’ve come right away.”
“I know, we just weren’t sure if it was serious. We didn’t want to interrupt you when you’re visiting your family.”
“I don’t care about that,” I say. “I’m so worried about him. Is he talking now?”
“He was talking to us earlier. He’s grumpy and tired, but he was making sense.”
“That’s good, right?”
“Yes, it’s very good. Please be careful driving. You don’t have to speed here, he’s in good hands. Please call me when you get there, though, so I know you’re both okay.”
“I will,” I promise.
“We’ll be there in the morning. Uncle Al is keeping things moving for the bar, and that guy Bob is keeping the crew running, so there’s nothing for Lucky to worry about except resting and letting himself heal. Oh—we’ve been stopping by the house to feed and walk the dog, but she’s very lonely. We weren’t sure if we should bring her home with us or…”
“No,” I answer quickly. “I’ll be there later today and I’ll stay at the house. I’ll take care of her. I think my poor cat misses her.” I let out a little laugh and slam my suitcase shut.
“I’m sure Lucky and the dog will be very happy to see you,” Aunt Suzy says.
“I hope so. Thank you so much for taking care of everything and for calling me. I’ll be leaving within the hour.”
“Okay, honey. Drive safe and try not to worry.”
As soon as I end the call tears stream down my cheeks. I can’t stand the thought of Jude being hurt, and lying in a hospital bed. I wish Aunt Suzy had called me right away. I could be there for him right now instead of being three hours away.
I wrangle the cat into her carrier and scan the guestroom for anything else of mine. Luckily, I didn’t bring much with me. After I pack everything in my rental car, I find my father in the garage cleaning the inside of his Audi.
“What’s wrong?” he asks as soon as he sees me approaching him. He puts down his rag and bottle of spray cleaner.
“I’m sorry, Dad, but I need to go back home. Right now.”
“Now?” His eyes flash with concern. “Why? What happened?”
“Jude’s aunt just called me. He was hurt on the job site and he’s in the hospital. I need to go be with him.”
“Oh, honey. I’m sorry to hear that. I really don’t want you to leave, though. We love having you here. Maybe you should stay. You can call him, maybe do a video chat, put your mind at ease.”
I glare at him with impatience. “Dad, I need to be there in person. His aunt says he has a bad concussion.”
“I’m sure he’ll be fine. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to run to him.”
“Yes, actually it is a good idea. In fact, it’s the only idea.”
“Skylar, I know you care about him but—”
I cut him off. “Dad, I have to be with him. He took care of me when I needed him. Many times. He’s the only one who ever has.”
His eyes darken at that. I don’t mean for the comment to hurt him, we’ve made a lot of progress the past month. Bu
t it’s the truth. “I just worry about you,” he says apologetically. “I’m trying to be a good dad.”
I smile softly. “I know you are, and I appreciate it. But I need to be there for him.” I give him a quick hug. “I’m glad we had this time together.”
“We are, too. Lynn is going to be upset when she comes home and you’re not here.”
“Can you please tell her goodbye for me? I’ll be back. We’ll talk on the phone. I’m going to figure out what I’m going to do. Soon.”
I’ve been saying that for weeks and I still don’t know what I want to do. My heart seems to be gravitating to everything back home in New Hampshire.
Everyone always says to follow your heart, but how are we ever supposed to know if it’s leading us to the right place?
Chapter 50
Skylar
By some miracle, I don’t hit any traffic on my drive back to New Hampshire. I return the rental car and take an Uber to Jude’s house to drop off Gus and check on Cassie, who’s so excited to see me she dances on her back legs with her little front paws waving in the air. Kneeling on the floor, I pet her and let her kiss my face before I drag my suitcases upstairs.
It feels odd being back in the house after being gone for a month. On one hand, I feel like I’m home. But on the other, I can’t help but wonder if this is home anymore. Jude might not want me to live here again. For all I know, he could be involved with someone else by now. Our brief chats have been just that—brief, light. Not too flirty. Nothing serious. Total avoidance about us.
When I get to my room, I let out a sigh of relief when I see everything looks exactly the same. My things are all where I left them, untouched. Waiting.
Except my bed.
The comforter is curiously rumpled, the pillow dented as if someone has been laying on it. Slowly, I cross the room to sit on it. Jude’s signature cologne is undeniably clinging to the pillow and the blanket, and it conjures up a flash of memories that almost bring me to tears. Hugging. Kissing. Touching.
He’s been sleeping in my bed. Or, at the very least, lying on it.
