by Duggan, K A
I’ve lost my compassion. It didn’t happen overnight. This was years in the making, mum became someone else, someone unrecognisable over a long period of time. She was never violent until this thing overtaking her brain made her so. She was never volatile, harsh or downright spiteful until one day she was. And the next. Repeated for years. This illness is the cruellest anyone could encounter, but more so for the family left to witness it, because we remember, we know what life was like, what their character once was, their quirks and love for us and now those things are gone replaced by an empty shell. I’m living a new normal but there’s absolutely nothing normal about it. I wish there was a quick fix, I searched tirelessly for one. What good is wealth if it can’t buy you more time?
I turn my phone on seeing 3 texts from Trina, which I reply to with an inadequate ‘sorry’ and 23 missed calls from Ash. He’s persistent I’ll give him that, and however much I want to, I can’t talk to him. Not until he’s aware of how I deceived him and I’ll know when he’s got to that particular entry. Until then all I can give is radio silence. All I can do is miss him, run myself into the ground with exhaustion to escape the mounting sorrow. I feel spread too thin again, exhausted mentally and can only focus on one negative at a time.
I walk into mum’s study, taking a seat behind her desk. Her pride and joy. This was her happy place, where she could read authors manuscripts, find new talent and make their dreams come true. This is where I found Ash’ query letter to her, the day I had a definitive diagnosis. I sat in this exact spot going through her papers, trying to concentrate to keep her deadlines going, whilst tears clouded my vision.
His query wasn’t exciting enough, it showed none of his personality, which he has in leaps and bounds. If he’d injected even a tenth of it into his letter she would have signed him in a heartbeat. She passed him over because the query didn’t pique her interest enough so she didn’t even bother to read the first few chapters attached. Or maybe her mind was already too far gone. That infuriated me because his writing was so fresh, if she’d just looked a little closer, gone deeper the outcome would have been different. But like I’ve said, fate has a plan – I still found him, it was just via a different route.
I fire up my laptop and login to Facebook seeing I have messages in my inbox. I’m grateful I can still talk to him through here under the guise of his friend and beta. No contact at all would have finished me off.
Ash: Have you had chance to read over it yet?
Me: I’m sorry but no, I’ve just sat at my desk now though so will get on it.
Ash: No, don’t. Bin it completely. I’m starting from scratch.
Me: What?! Why?
Ash: It was all wrong. I didn’t know what I was on about. Now I do. It’ll be better.
Me: If you’re sure…
Ash: I am.
Me: For a mill would you reconsider?
Ash: Not even for 20 mill
Ashton
Reading Fliss journals are heartbreaking, but they do help with missing her. It feels like we’re connecting on another level, sharing your most heartfelt words from your very soul has that effect. I haven’t had any answers to whatever she referenced in Journal one as yet but I can’t stop reading anyway. Each one gives me more insight into the woman I fell for. They’ve also been inspiration for turning my novel on its head and making me start from scratch.
I close the book on journal two or is it three? And reach right for the next one.
Dear Journal,
I discovered something today. The publishing industry sucks. The way they decide whether someones work is worthy enough by only paying attention to the query is just plain wrong. Today I read three chapters of an amazing story, I’ve taken over whilst mum is… elsewhere and found it whilst going through her stuff. She noted next to this manuscript that it was a pass because the query wasn’t compelling enough. But she didn’t read the chapters! The story is more than compelling. It angered me so much I did something I shouldn’t have – I messaged the author. Found him on social media and stalked his page, luckily for me, due to the backlog at the office he’d never received his rejection. But after waiting way over the deadline for a response he’d gone ahead and self-published. I went straight to the online store selling his book and bought it. I devoured it that night and had to let him know how his words resonated with me and not to give up on his talent. I felt it was my duty to let him know agents aren’t always right but since he’d given up on the traditional route anyway I left that out. The author's name is Ashton…
The journal falls from my hand as though it’s burnt me. My head starts spinning as I start pacing back and forth. Too much to be a coincidence. Fliss is Monty? Monty my beta is Fliss? What the fuck? Did she sucker me in online before suckering me in in person?
I remember that message. It was the first I’d ever received from a reader. Hearing what she thought of my story, my pride and joy was a feeling I’ll never experience again. The gratitude I felt that she enjoyed my work so much she just couldn’t refrain from reaching out and telling me was tremendous. I spent the rest of that day sporting a shit-eating grin. Knowing I’d touched a reader made me proud, it felt like I’d proven my father wrong, that I was going to succeed.
I can still recount the simplicity of it word for word:
Hi,
I hope this is okay. I’ve never messaged an author before but wanted to tell you I’ve just read your book and felt compelled to reach out to you. It had such an impact on me. Thank you for writing it. It truly was a great story.
Monty
Of course, I messaged back thanking her. I knew Monty was female and it was clearly a nickname. And that was it, our friendship was borne. Then it hits me, Fliss Montgomery – Monty, why her surname was so familiar but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Her mother, the agent I queried – Montgomery Manuscripts.
I pull out my phone and dial her again. I know it’s pointless but the rage I have needs to be expelled. I want answers – from her, not a journal. It goes to voicemail again and I nearly throw my phone, but now I know how to get to her – Facebook and I’ll know when she’s read the message.
Felicity
Current mood – Despondent
Regret level – Cloudy with a chance of disbelief
I’ve been spending more and more time in mums study. Some days I just sit here blankly staring. Others I get her affairs in order and sometimes like today when I’m feeling closest to her in her favourite room, I tidy. I found her keys to the different cupboards and drawers she has locks on and have been meticulously organising them ever since.
It’s beneficial because these tasks need doing but they’re also taking my mind off Ash and the ever-present call I’m expecting from the nursing home.
I pull out another stack of papers along with a binder and place them on her desk. Most will probably need shredding, so I start sorting through them, my eyes skipping over most of the words. One, in particular, catches my eye and I shuffle through the ones behind it, seeing they all have my name on them. I figure it must be her will or something to that effect so start paying attention.
The words jump from the page.
Adoption certificate.
I clench it so tightly that it almost rips. No fucking way. I scan through the rest of it just to appease myself that I have it wrong. That my tired mind is jumping to conclusions. I’m not adopted.
But I am.
All these years, especially the last few when I’ve been petrified about inheriting this condition because of our shared genes and they never said a word. Never thought it should be something I was made aware of not only on a human decency level but for peace of mind. How could my parents keep something so life-changing from me? How could they let me discover this myself, in this way? Because I have questions, a shit ton of them and neither of them can fucking answer them now. I fall into the seat at the desk, unsure of my next move. I can’t demand answers from anyone, I have no one I can cry to or take my frustration o
ut on.
I’m back to being alone and I’m partly to blame for that.
My computer pings.
Ash: All this time its been you?!
I thought you (Monty) genuinely liked my book but you’re some kind of psycho bunny boiler with an agenda.
I read it again and again, aware of the fact he can see I’ve opened it. I knew this day was coming but now it’s here I don’t know how to respond. My first reaction is to laugh, after what I just discovered, mine and Ash’ problems barely scratch the surface. It seems so trivial but I know for him it isn’t, he doesn’t have other drama in his life, no other deceit can top it for him but fate seems to think I need a plateful of grief.
The discovery I’ve just made can wait, the call I have to make, can’t.
Resigned to this outcome I pick up my phone and dial his number, making the call I’ve been dreading all along. He answers on the second ring.
“You’ve got some nerve Fliss!” he rants straight away
“I didn’t like it,” I shout back. Pissed off at my parents, real and adoptive. He’s the closest person to me, even if we aren’t very close right now, I still think of him as my person and unfortunately for him, we always take out our problems on those closest to us. I’m also completely infuriated that he’d ever think I lied about that. I know I have no right to be indignant but I am.
“I loved it. You’re the only author I’ve ever reached out to. It had that much of an impact on me. That was never a lie. Believe what you like about my behaviour but I’ve never been deceitful with my opinions on your craft. I don’t know why my mother didn’t sign you. I would have begged her to if she’d been herself. That’s when I started following you when you went the self-published route, that’s when I pm’d you. I had to let you know that whatever rejections came your way, they weren’t deserved and that you had a fan, a true lover of what you’d written. I never expected you to reply. I never thought we’d become friends and once we did you became important to me. How would you have reacted at that point had I said “By the way I’m the daughter of an agent who shot you down?” You’d have been conflicted. I liked that you spoke to me on an instinctual level because you wanted to not because you might gain from it. I like that you saw me and my worth not my money. Then things went downhill pretty quickly and you were my strength from afar.”
“That’s what you want to start with? That’s the least of my grievances, Fliss.”
“Well, it’s the least of mine too, Ash. But you brought it up.”
“That’s it? All you have to say?”
I sigh “I miss you.” It just slips out and I know it has no relevance right now but I need him to know it regardless. I miss him so much it hurts to breathe. I’m sad without him, dealing with everything I’m going through alone. Just for a second, I wish he’d say it back.
“You miss me?” he scoffs “You lied to me, used me and then fucking disappeared, Fliss. You left me in limbo. I had no idea what happened to you except for your cryptic fucking clue and these damn journals. You miss me? You have a funny way of showing it.”
“I’m sorry, Ash. Truly. I never expected this. I certainly didn’t plan to move in with you. I just wanted to meet you. I was desperate and everything ran away with me.”
“Yeah, about that. How did you find me?”
“Does it matter?”
“Damn straight it matters!”
“I paid someone to hack you down.” I wince at my slip of the tongue. And of course, he doesn’t miss it.
“Hack?!”
“Track. I paid someone to track you down.”
“You’re still fucking lying. Hacking and tracking are two separate things. What the fuck did you hack?”
“I don’t know, honestly. I gave some basic information about you and they did the rest.”
“What basic information?”
“I … I read your query to my mum’s agency. Your details were on the form.”
“How dare you! You could have just asked me. The woman I was speaking to online I’d have loved to meet. She picked me up on some of my worst days, shame you don’t stack up in the flesh.”
“I was going to tell you. It just got harder and harder to come clean when we…”
“Slept together?” he fumes “Don’t romanticise it. It was good, Fliss but it was another lie.”
“I was going to say when you started developing feelings…”
“Feelings? You can’t develop feelings for a stranger. It was all a lie. Everything I thought I knew and loved about you was fake. I don’t know you.”
“Yes, you do. Better than anyone. Ash, you have to believe me. I love you and I’m so sorry but if we love each other we can get through anything.” I’m begging, knowing he’s slipping away from me. I’m desperate and blurting out anything in the hopes he’ll change his mind. I’ve still held on to a crazy notion that he’d be mad but he’d forgive me and beg for me to go back.
“Why would you think that? Jesus Fliss, you’re throwing around that word like it’s a magic fix. Love isn’t the be-all and end-all. It doesn’t save everything. Without trust we have nothing. It was all based on a lie. However delicious the intentions, there’s no such thing as sweet deceit. I don’t even know you so how can I really love you?”
I expected this. Thought I’d prepared myself for it but nothing can really prepare you for the sting of those words, however, deserved they are. He’s right though. I was so focused on love I thought it would erode away all deceit but if he doesn’t trust me how could we ever work?
I can’t speak so I just nod to myself. Today has taken a turn for the worse and I didn’t think it could have got any worse. I should have stayed in bed. I take a deep breath and on the exhale I reply “I’m sorry Ash. Truly. I never wanted to hurt you. I knew I would but I really wish I hadn’t. Keep reading them, they’ll answer so much more than I ever could. You’re angry right now and with fair reason to be but… I’ll miss you.” I linger on the line hoping that he’ll say we can work through this. But he never does.
Ashton
“I’ll miss you.” She says and the line goes dead. I stare at my phone wondering what the hell just happened. How dare she rob me of the chance to confront her face to face. Is that why she left? To take the cowards way out? What happened, did she fuck me and then have a hit of conscience? I start pacing around her room like a trapped animal. Everything she’s done and lied about just don’t add up to the woman I got to know. No one can hide their true self that perfectly.
A text pings and I reach for my phone hoping it’s her, I’ve nowhere near expelled this angry energy and a text row could just help. My hope plummets when I see it’s from Trina, she’s uncannily on the mark when it comes to getting in touch. Before I sent the Facebook message to Fliss, I rang Trina, gave her the lowdown, let loose some of my rage. I shoot her a quick reply and carry on pacing trying to work off this frustrating energy coursing through my veins.
Moments later my door knocks. I know who it is before I reach it. I imagine her sitting outside just waiting for my SOS. I jog to it, letting Trina in and I don’t miss what she’s carrying in her hand.
“Ice cream?” I ask
“Why not?” she shrugs “Always worked when we were kids.” She walks to my kitchen reappearing with two spoons and sits herself down in Fliss spot on my settee. It’s wrong. She’s sat there many times since I moved in but never since Fliss did. It belongs to Fliss. Why I give a shit about something so inconsequential is frustrating. She notices me frowning and on an eye roll, she scoots over patting the space beside her for me to join. I remain standing as she whips the lid off the ice cream and dives in.
“So, why the 999?” she asks around a mouthful of raspberry ripple.
“She was a fake. I thought Cammy was bat shit crazy but Fliss takes the crown.”
“What are you actually mad about here?”
“Did you not listen to the story?”
“I did, but still go ahead and an
swer the question.”
“All of it.”
“No, be specific. Yes, she lied, was deceptive but if you’re truthful you don’t really care about that. Knowing you it was a huge fucking ego boost knowing that girl wanted to meet you that badly she flew out here just to do it. It was a fucked-up way of going about it no doubt, but you liked her, online and in person. What’s the real issue, Ash?
I drop down beside her. I hate how she can read me so well “She left. Left me high and dry, left me wondering whether it was me if she regretted… if I wasn’t enough.”
“There it is. The whole crux, now you’ve admitted it to yourself how are you going to handle it?”
“There’s nothing to handle, we’re done, everything we had wasn’t real. She’s gone so time to move on and find a way to get over her.”
She rolls her eyes “I disagree, that’s an excuse. If that was true you wouldn’t be so torn up, concerned about whether you were the problem. Everyone deserves a second chance don’t they? Seems to me that girl has a lot going on, she needed someone to lean on and chose you, can’t blame her for that.”
“Can’t I?”
“Well, you can, of course. But that’s not the Ash I know. You’re not heartless. I never told you, but she admitted to me once that she was an awful person. She was torn up over something. I now know that was because she was lying to you and I believe it was genuine. Why do you think she held back so much, kept you at arms length when she clearly only had eyes for you?”
I shrug and shove a spoonful of ice cream in my mouth. I really hate when Trina is fair, logical and can see both sides of the story. She continues anyway “Because she knew this was going to be the end result, there was no way to stop it from coming out. All I can suggest is take some time, don’t make lasting decisions based on temporary emotions. Maybe read some more, she left them to you for a reason.”
