Tangled up in Love

by Charlotte Byrd

  I’d hate to admit this to anyone out loud, but I often wear the same thing to bed as I do around the house, especially on the days that I don’t leave home. And not every day feels like a leggings day.

  Some days, you want to be even more comfortable than that.

  By the time I get downstairs, I’m regretting that I did not bring my laptop, my journal, or my phone.

  I had forgotten how big this house is.

  Unlike my apartment, where I could see all around it just by looking up from my bed, this place almost requires a map.

  By now, I know pretty much where everything is but it doesn’t change the fact that it still takes at least five minutes to walk from the master bedroom upstairs all the way down to the kitchen at the opposite end of the house.

  When I took off on my journey, I was expecting to see Jackson somewhere upstairs working in another room, to give me the quiet to sleep in. But much to my surprise, he is nowhere to be found.

  The house is all mine and it’s quite disarming.

  “So, this is where I live now?” I say out loud, making my way back from the kitchen and toward the staircase.

  I run my fingers over the railing and admire its smooth wood and the workmanship that went into making this what it is.

  Who were the men who carved this wood? Who were the men who cut down the trees?

  Never in a million years did I ever imagine living in a place like this.

  I am living here, yes, but am I really living here as an equal partner?

  As I head upstairs to get my laptop and phone, I wonder about that. It’s not like I can afford to pay half the mortgage on this place.

  Does he even have a mortgage?

  So, what does it really mean that I live here?

  With Julie, I had to pay half the rent no matter what.

  And so did she. When she moved out with Logan, she still owed me the rent until I found another roommate to cover for her. But here? In this place, I will always be a stranger.

  Walking back down the stairs, something else occurs to me. I am not the only stranger here.

  This place doesn’t feel like Jackson at all. Maybe when I first met him, this place fit who he was.

  But now?

  I don’t know, something just does not feel right. It’s almost like we are both living here only temporarily.

  After pouring myself a cup of tea, I sit down at the kitchen island and pick up my phone.

  I see a text from Jackson that says that he had to go in to the office and will be back later.

  Another unread text is from my mom.

  My parents have been back in Montana for a few days and she’s just texting to see how I’m feeling about everything. I send her a thumbs up emoji and promise to call later this afternoon.

  A part of me wishes that they were still here, and another part is glad that they’re back home.

  As much as I enjoy spending time with them, I always feel like I have to be on my best behavior around them.

  Especially around my mom.

  If I look too tired, or act even a little bit too emotional, she immediately becomes concerned. I don’t know if it’s just a mom thing or her personality in particular, but for some reason I feel this pressure to be perfect around her.

  It’s like I don’t want her to worry, so I have to pretend that everything is fine. Otherwise, she instantaneously assumes that the worst is going to happen.

  Briefly, I glance at the number of unanswered emails that are piling up in my inbox and decide that nothing’s going to happen if I let them go for another few hours.

  Instead, I click on the Kindle app and return to my book.

  The put-upon wealthy guy who doesn’t want the pressures of his wealth is about to make his father very angry and I can’t wait to find out what happens next.

  “Oh, hello.” A familiar voice startles me.

  There was no ring of the doorbell, no sound of shoes on the parquet floors. She just appears, as if out of thin air.

  “Hello,” I say. She walks over to me, her sandy blond hair bouncing with each step. It takes me a moment to realize that she’s walking toward me to give me a hug, and I turn in my chair at the last second to hug her back.

  “It’s nice to see you again, Harley. I am so sorry about everything that happened.”

  “Thank you.” I nod. “I really appreciate that.”

  She walks over to the refrigerator and looks inside. It’s empty, holding only a lonely packet of Brussels sprouts in the bottom drawer.

  “When was the last time Jackson had food in here?” she asks. “I guess I’ll be ordering out.”

  While everyone wants visitors to be comfortable in their homes, she’s definitely crossing boundaries by acting as if this were her home.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude,” I finally say. “But what you are doing here, Aurora?”

  13

  Harley

  When we play games….

  Aurora walks around the kitchen as if it were her own.

  Suddenly, I don’t feel like the girlfriend of the owner but the help.

  She pauses to look out of the window before answering.

  I don’t know if Jackson has invited her or not and I don’t feel comfortable asking her to leave.

  But her presence makes me uneasy. She doesn’t answer my question and I don’t bother asking it again. Instead, I just grab my laptop and my phone and head out of the room.

  “Where are you going?” she asks.

  I pause in the hallway in between the kitchen and the formal dining room.

  “You weren’t saying anything, so I figure that you didn’t come here to talk,” I say these words without turning around. Then I continue to walk away.

  “Listen, I’m sorry.” Aurora catches up to me. “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

  Now that we are actually eye-to-eye, I can see that she really means this. But why else would she act this way? Like I’m invisible. Oh, yeah, maybe in her eyes I was.

  “So, what are you doing here?” I ask, exhaling quickly.

  She moves her jaw from one side of her head to another, as if to stretch it. Then she purses her lips and relaxes them slowly.

  “I just didn’t know where else to go.”

  I nod, resisting the temptation to roll my eyes. This is the place that Aurora runs to whenever her life gets a little bit difficult.

  It doesn’t sound like she lives a particularly easy life, but it does seem like she craves the drama.

  Perhaps, she does it because she always has this place to come back to. Jackson is her soft place to fall.

  “I know that I shouldn’t be barging in on you both. Maybe it’s not the right thing to do.”

  Maybe? I want to say, but I bite my tongue.

  She turns back around and walks back to the kitchen. Does she expect me to just follow?

  Does she expect me to put my whole day on hold just because she is here? What annoys me the most is the way that she just expects help to come about whenever she’s here.

  She shows up and Jackson is just supposed to drop everything and deal with her problem.

  Well, Jackson is not here and I’m not him.

  Since she walked away from me expecting me to follow, I pretend that I don’t know what she wants.

  I don’t know if she’s actually that dense or just wants to play games, but either way, I’m the one who lives here.

  If she wants to talk to me then she’ll have to be the one to ask.

  I turn around and walk toward the stairs.

  “Wait, Harley! Where are you going?”

  I walk halfway up the stairs, requiring her to call my name a couple more times before I respond.

  “You just walked away, so I figured I’d get back to what I was doing.”

  I look down at her from the staircase. She looks small and timid and not at all as intimidating as she is face to face.

  “I’m sorry…” she says slowly. “I just t
hought that you would…follow me.”

  She says the last bit very quietly and slowly. I can see her expectation of me finally dawning on her.

  Why was she expecting me to follow her?

  Just because everyone else does? Well, just because everyone else in her life makes accommodations for her doesn’t mean that I am about to.

  Then something dawns on me. Maybe I just need to come right out and say what I want her to do.

  “Aurora, Jackson is not here. If you want to talk to me then you have to ask me. Otherwise, I’m just going to go back to my day.”

  My directness takes her by surprise, but then a look of relief comes over her.

  “Yes, please. I need to talk to you.”

  I nod, hovering my foot over the step below me.

  “Can we have some coffee?”

  “Sure, but I’d prefer a cup of tea.”

  Aurora sits down at the kitchen island and I put on the kettle. She opts for tea as well, and I place two bags in two white mugs. I watch the water start to boil in the electric glass kettle and wait for her to start.

  “I’m sorry for barging in on you like that. I’ve just always thought of this place as my own.”

  Thanks for that, Jackson, I say to myself sarcastically. But I appreciate the apology.

  “It’s okay. I understand. But I also want you to know that I’m living here now. Full-time.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, Jackson asked me to move in with him.”

  “That’s great. I’m really happy for you,” she says. She isn’t just saying that to be nice, I can tell that she’s being earnest and I appreciate that.

  “I also wanted to say that I heard about what happened to you.”

  My whole body tightens up. I clench my jaw and brace myself against the marble.

  “I read that you were pregnant.”

  I swallow hard. My mouth goes dry and when I open it to speak, a cough comes out.

  “Yeah…”

  It’s all I manage to say.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up. I just wanted you to know that I know.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  What I appreciate more is her saying that I don’t have to talk to her about it.

  “So, what’s going on with you?”

  “I don’t know if you know but I moved in with Elliot Woodward.”

  The asshole who attacked me? I want to ask, but I fight the urge.

  “I think Jackson mentioned that you were…together.”

  “Yeah, well, not anymore.”

  “What happened?”

  “With the whole #metoo movement, a lot of women have been coming forward and saying all this stuff about how he came onto them.

  “Anyway, a few who work for him have filed a lawsuit. He got really pissed and we got into this fight.”

  I listen and don’t really know what to say. I guess I should try to comfort her, but the truth is that no matter how much I don’t really like her, she doesn’t deserve to be with a degenerate like that.

  “So, what do you think about what those women are saying?” I ask, instead of coming straight out and stating my opinion.

  “I don’t know what to think. I mean, there are a lot of them. But he never really did anything to me.”

  I shake my head.

  “What?” she asks, catching me in my disgust.

  “Aurora, he probably did all of that they’re accusing him of.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because he kissed me, forcefully. And when I tried to push him away, he wouldn’t take no for answer.”

  “What?” Aurora asks, horrified.

  “Yeah, so I had to bite down on his lips to get him to stop.”

  “No, I can’t believe it,” she says, shaking her head.

  14

  Harley

  When we talk….

  Her reaction makes me angry. There’s no way I can prove it to her, but why the hell would I make up something like this?

  It’s embarrassing and demeaning. I want nothing more than to not have had this happen.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way,” Aurora says.

  “What did you fight about?” I ask, trying to pivot the conversation in another direction.

  “Well, sort of about that. I mean, I just couldn’t believe that all of those women are lying and he didn’t like that.”

  “That’s because they aren’t,” I say under my breath.

  “So, what did he do to you?” she asks quietly.

  I tell her exactly what happened, every last detail. I don’t elaborate and I don’t use flowery language to make a point. I just state the facts. At the end, she gasps.

  “That’s so…shitty.”

  “Yeah, it was. If I hadn’t bitten him, he wouldn’t have stopped.”

  She nods, burying her head in her hands.

  “Why does this always happen? Why am I always attracted to these assholes?” she asks through her sobs.

  I don’t really know how to answer that, or that she wants me to answer it at all. She just wants someone to listen, and I do. I put my arm around her and listen to her cry.

  “You deserve someone a lot better than Elliot Woodward. I hope you know that.”

  “That’s what Jackson told me as well.”

  “Well, he’s right.”

  “I just don’t know where to find a good guy, you know?”

  I shrug. “Maybe you should start with just not looking at all. I mean, Jackson said that you don’t stay by yourself for long.”

  I don’t really know Aurora, so telling her to stop dating altogether feels like it’s not entirely my place. Yet, I can’t help myself.

  “My husband has been begging me to take him back,” she mumbles through the tears.

  “Didn’t he hit you?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “Sometimes.”

  “Don’t you care?”

  She shrugs again and says, “Sometimes.”

  “Well, you should. You don’t deserve to be treated like that. No one does. There are good men out there. And they won’t hit you and they won’t make you feel like you’re nothing.”

  “Yeah, but do they have money?”

  I stare at her in disbelief. Is she really saying these words?

  “You are already rich,” I say. “You don’t need to date anyone for money.”

  “Eh, I’m not that rich.”

  I shake my head.

  Being in the presence of the few wealthy people I’ve met since getting involved with Jackson, I realized that this is a notion that only the wealthy have.

  Poor people, and by that, I mean everyone who isn’t in the 1%, tends to think that there’s a certain amount of money that will make them comfortable and then they will have enough.

  But the 1% are different.

  Most of them think that whatever they have isn’t enough and it’s never going to be enough.

  “Aurora, you are rich. And even if you weren’t, you do not need to date a man for his wealth. There are a lot better characteristics by which to judge someone than their bank account.”

  She looks at me as if I have lost my mind.

  “You are one to talk,” she says, smiling.

  “I am not dating Jackson for his money. I am dating him in spite of it. I mean, some money is good, of course. I had a lot of problems paying my bills but beyond that? I don’t need much beyond that.”

  Suddenly, she starts to laugh. Aurora throws her head back and her whole body starts to shake.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Don’t you get it?” she asks. “That’s the whole thing. I can’t pay my fucking bills either.”

  I stare at her, dumbfounded.

  “My estranged husband has cut me off. Most of my credit cards are frozen. Elliot was helping me out, but now that we had this fight, he kicked me out and took all the money that he put into an account for me.”

  “Don’t you have any of your own money?�
��

  “Yeah, I did. Some. But I wrote Jackson a pretty big check. And most of it is joint property with my husband. So, it’s all tied up in litigation.”

  I don’t know what to say. I never thought that a person who could write a two million dollar check would have a problem with money at all. But here she is, sitting in Jackson’s house, waiting for him to get home so that he can help her out financially.

  “What about getting a job?” I ask, after a moment.

  “What?” She looks at me like I have lost my mind.

  “Yeah, I know, it’s a radical idea. But you could get a job.”

  “And what would this job pay? Seventy, eighty-thousand a year?”

  Now, it’s my turn to laugh.

  “You would be extremely lucky to get a position that paid that much,” I say. “It would be more like thirty. Thirty-five. I’m not entirely sure what you are qualified to do.”

  “So, what would be the point of that?” Aurora asks.

  “To make your own way in life. To live just on what you make. It’s not such a terrible thing. It’s actually quite liberating.”

  15

  Harley

  Differences of opinion….

  It’s hard for me to understand Aurora just like it’s probably hard for her to understand me.

  She has lived in the lap of luxury for a very long time, so long indeed that it has made her fearful of what life would be like without money.

  Yes, it can be difficult and challenging to be poor, but the truth is that it’s also incredibly liberating.

  Even if you don’t make much, just the ability to pay for all of your bills entirely using your own wits and time, well, there’s nothing quite like it.

  It gives you this sense of freedom and possibility. You don’t owe anyone anything.

  You may not like your job or your boss but just the very fact that you get a paycheck at the end and it’s all yours…it’s hard to explain what it feels like to someone who never had that before.