by T. K. Leigh
* * *
Yet, somehow, he does. When you hit your lowest point, he stands by your side and helps lift you up. He doesn’t judge when he learns the truth. He doesn’t look at you in disgust. Instead, he sees something you never thought anyone would — strength. He doesn’t make you feel worthless. He calls you a survivor. Calls you strong. Calls you remarkable.
* * *
And those walls around you come crumbling down.
* * *
You let this amazing man in. You open up to him.
* * *
You fall in love.
* * *
Guardedly.
* * *
Timidly.
* * *
Hesitantly.
* * *
But you still do.
* * *
Then the bottom drops. Regardless, he tries to fight for you, says he’ll go to battle for you.
* * *
But you know his love will never win the war. You’ve lived your entire life on a runaway train, desperately trying to get it back on its tracks. So you do the one thing you can to control this situation.
* * *
You lie.
* * *
It’s not the first time. You’ve lied to everyone most of your life. About your mother. About where that designer purse you had days ago disappeared to. About the bruise on your arm where one of your new “friends” got a little too rough.
* * *
When your parent is an alcoholic, you become a master at deception, so much so that it’s hard to remember what’s real and what’s part of the elaborate façade you built to hide the truth.
* * *
You convince yourself you don’t need love, that love makes you weak, and you refuse to show even a hint of weakness.
* * *
You smile and tell your friends how thrilled you are when they find their own happily ever after that would rival even the cheesiest romantic comedy.
* * *
They joke and tell you that you’re next. You brush it off, saying you’re not interested in all the trappings of love, of finding your happily ever after.
* * *
But I did find my happily ever after.
* * *
Convincing myself I didn’t, convincing him I didn’t, is the biggest lie I’ve ever told.
I wipe my tired eyes, stretching my legs out in front of me as I read over what I spent the last several hours writing and rewriting, telling my story, not leaving out a single detail. Izzy was right. It’s amazingly cathartic to get it all down on paper. And maybe it will help other people who are just as lost as me, who feel just as worthless as I do.
Content with my work, I sit back, contemplating what to do now that it’s out there. But is it?
I’m not sure what comes over me, whether it’s lack of sleep or the peaceful glow filtering into my apartment in the predawn hours, but I open up my email and attach the document, then type a message.
To: Evie Fitzgerald
From: Chloe Davenport
Subject: Maybe?
Hey, E. Think Viv would want to run this in next month’s issue instead of the piece on the best celebrity Instagram accounts?
C
I hesitate, my finger about to click on the send button. Once I do, my friends will know all my secrets. After these past few hours of soul-searching, it doesn’t seem the cataclysmic event I once thought it to be. So I click, listening to the whooshing sound as the email flies into cyberspace. A part of me regrets being so rash.
Until Evie and Nora appear on my doorstep before seven in the morning, tears in their eyes. When they wrap me in their arms without a single ounce of pity or judgment, I’m confident this is the right path. That this is what I need to do to move forward, to turn that page on a new chapter in my life.
Even if Lincoln’s name doesn’t appear on any of them.
Chapter Forty-Three
A sea of black robes fills the lobby of a state-of-the-art theater, a post-graduation reception underway. Of course, this wasn’t the official ceremony, just one the journalism department puts on for its students. A more private affair honoring a few hundred graduates instead of the university graduation, which has several thousand.
I’d been uneasy about the prospect of attending. I’d planned on foregoing walking during my graduation ceremony altogether, not wanting to run into Lincoln. But my friends reminded me of all the obstacles I’d faced in getting to this point. I needed to do this.
That still didn’t stop me from nearly turning around and leaving a dozen times as the graduation coordinator had lined us up, unsure whether I could enter the auditorium and face Lincoln. Thankfully, he wasn’t among the rows of faculty members on stage.
With the ceremony over, I make my way through the lobby packed with people in the post-graduation celebration, searching for my friends and mother, which proves difficult due to my height. My path obstructed, I place my hand on the shoulder of a tall man in a suit in order to get his attention so I can squeeze through. He turns around, the jovial expression instantly falling from his face when those familiar green eyes lock with mine, cold and distant.
Despite the boisterous voices filling the space, a strained silence, tense and uncertain, echoes in my ears. I’ve spent the past few weeks doing everything in my power to make peace with my past and move forward. But I can’t do that until I finally close this chapter in my life. And that includes apologizing and coming clean with this man.
“Lincoln,” I begin, my eyes soft.
He shoots up a hand, cutting me off. His jaw tenses, lip curling. “It’s Professor Moore,” he states sternly.
“Please, I just wanted to—”
He leans toward me, his harsh voice no more than a whisper. “No. You graduated. You got what you wanted. Now I never want to see you again.” He pulls back, straightening his tie. “Best of luck on all your future endeavors, Miss Davenport. But I doubt you’ll need it. You’ll do whatever it takes to get what you want.”
His biting words sting as they linger between us. Then he turns, the crowd seeming to part to allow him passage. I want to call out, tell him I love him, that I did what I did to protect him, but I don’t. He wouldn’t believe me anyway. Every action has consequences. And these are the consequences of my own actions. Ones I’ll have to live with the rest of my life.
Swallowing hard through the lump in my throat, I plaster a smile onto my face, continuing through the lobby, relieved when I see all my friends waiting.
“You did it!” Evie says, hugging me enthusiastically, Nora also getting in on the action before pulling back to allow my mother to embrace me and offer her congratulations.
I gaze upon my friends with a bit of envy as they stand beside the men in their life — Evie with Julian, and Nora with Jeremy. They both look so happy. I try to remind myself I never would have had what they do.
“Come on.” Izzy slings her arm over my shoulder. “Let’s go celebrate. I hear Camille’s been busy back at Julian’s making her famous chocolate soufflé.”
I peer in his direction. “Is that right?”
“Evie’s a sucker for it. And whatever Evie wants, Evie gets.”
“Don’t I know it.” I roll my eyes, following my friends out of the building.
Once we’re out of earshot, Izzy leans into me, whispering. “You okay?”
“Never better.” I flash a smile, but when she narrows her gaze, I know she can tell I’m not myself. I exhale a long breath. “I just ran into him.”
“Oh, Chloe…”
“It’s okay. I’m okay.” I shrug it off, pretending to be happy so no one else can pick up on my unease.
“No, you’re not.”
I meet her eyes. “I know. But I have to believe, in time, I will be.”
After we’ve all stuffed ourselves with the delicious meal Julian’s housekeeper, Camille, prepared, my mother clinks her fork against her glass, then stands from the table. At first, I was hesitant to ag
ree to have any Champagne here, but she insisted she didn’t want to ruin any more special moments in my life. I should be able to celebrate my college graduation with a glass of Champagne if I wanted. And to my surprise, she hasn’t even looked twice at a glass, drinking club soda instead.
“It’s not every day you can stand up in front of your daughter and all her wonderful friends to celebrate everything she did to overcome adversity and graduate college.”
I smile, grateful there are no jokes about it taking me ten years, like there would be with my father. But my mom knows the truth now, knows I dropped out to try to keep a roof over her head, keep her from becoming a statistic.
“You are a remarkable young woman, Chloe. And I’m honored to be able to call you my daughter. You may think this isn’t a big deal, that it’s just a piece of paper, but it’s so much more than that. You’ve proven you’ll never give up on your dreams. That you’ll fight for them and achieve them, regardless of how long it takes.” She lifts her glass, everyone at the table following suit. “Congratulations.”
Everyone repeats the word as we all clink glasses.
“On that note…,” Nora begins excitedly. “Here…”
She withdraws a t-shirt-sized box from a hiding place under the table and shoves it toward me.
“Guys, I told you no presents.”
“You should know by now that we are horrible at actually listening to you.”
I tilt my head, pinching my lips together.
“Just open it, Chloe,” Jeremy says, placing his arm around Nora’s shoulders, his broad muscles dwarfing her slender frame. “You know how persistent Nora can be. You won’t win with her.”
Playfully sighing, I grab the box and tear the wrapping from it. When I open the lid, I’m not sure what I’m looking at. It’s a couple pieces of paper. One containing an airline itinerary, the other with information on the hotel in Hawaii where we’re all staying for Nora’s upcoming wedding. My name is on both reservations, but the dates aren’t what I’d originally booked.
“What is this?” I glance around the table, confused.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Evie begins, grabbing Julian’s hand. “But we took a vote, and the consensus is that you need a vacation.”
“I’m taking a vacation. For Nora’s wedding.”
Nora rolls her eyes. “You’re flying in Friday and leaving Sunday. The wedding’s Saturday. Doesn’t give you much of a vacation.”
I lower my eyes, not wanting to tell her it’s all I can afford.
“So we took it upon ourselves to change your flight and your hotel,” Evie explains. “All paid for. And don’t worry. The entire staff at the magazine donated some of their paid leave so you won’t have to use any of your accumulated time. You even have some extra days now, too. You leave Saturday.”
“Saturday?” My eyes widen. “As in seven days from now?”
“Well, since it’s Sunday, technically six,” Nora interjects. “But who’s counting?”
“You,” Izzy quips. “If I’m not mistaken, you’ve been counting down to this wedding since you set the date over a year ago.”
“What can I say?” She shrugs, tilting her head to meet Jeremy’s dark eyes. “I’m so excited to have one penis for the rest of my life.”
I watch as she kisses him. Normally, I would have joked and told them to get a room, but there’s something about their love that’s so sweet, so pure, so hopeful. It makes me optimistic that I’ll find love again.
When Nora reluctantly tears her lips from Jeremy’s, she looks at me. “It’ll be great. We’re flying there Friday. Izzy’s flying in on Sunday, right?”
I look to Izzy, who nods.
“And Evie and Julian are arriving on Sunday, too. You were the only one who was flying in, doing the wedding, then leaving the next day. I want some time with my friend.”
“You deserve this, sweetie,” Mom says. “You’ve worked your tail off taking care of yourself and me for far too long. Enjoy it.”
“I don’t know what to say.” I shake my head, knowing how much something like this must have cost. The rooms at the hotel alone are close to $400 a night. To pay for me to stay there eight nights? I tell myself it’s too much, that I don’t deserve it. But I’m trying to learn I deserve better than I’ve afforded myself.
“Just say you won’t miss that plane, because the last thing I want to worry about is rebooking your damn flight. Again,” Nora says.
“I’ll be there.” I reach across the table, grabbing both Nora’s and Evie’s hands in mine. Izzy covers one of mine and I look at all the incredible women who’ve supported me through everything, even if they haven’t always agreed with some of my decisions. “Thank you.”
The celebration continues for a while longer, all of us indulging in the ridiculously rich chocolate soufflé. I don’t know how Julian stays in such great shape with Camille’s cooking. Based on the way Evie can barely keep her hands off him, I surmise the workout she must give him in the bedroom helps in that department.
“You got a minute?” Evie asks as everyone lounges in the sitting area of Julian’s penthouse condo, the breathtaking view of Central Park and Manhattan a stunning backdrop. It’s still hard to picture Evie living here, to be in this life with Julian, a man she was just supposed to pretend to date for a summer. I guess we can’t control who we fall in love with. The last few months have taught me that.
“Sure.” I set my coffee on the marble table in front of me and get up from the couch, following her to a room she’s revamped as her office.
A modern, white desk sits in the center, brightly colored chairs on either side of it. The walls are lined with framed photos of various important editions of Blush, including the first one that listed her as assistant editor. She’s come a long way from being the sex and dating columnist we all read for a quick laugh. I suppose I have, too.
“What’s up?” I ask as she walks to the desk and retrieves a large envelope.
She faces me, chewing on her lower lip. “Don’t get mad.”
I eye her skeptically. “When you start out like that, I have a feeling I might.”
“I know. I just…” She blows out a breath. “I really think you need this.” She hesitantly extends the envelope toward me.
I stare at her, unsure I want to know what’s inside. But intrigue gets the better of me and I open it, pulling out what appears to be a proof of the July issue of Time. The cover has the signature red border, the image a single rocks glass filled a quarter of the way with an amber liquid.
“Wha—”
“Viv loved your piece. I mean really loved it.”
“I know. She was going to make it the feature article in the July issue of Blush.”
“And she was. Until she found out that Time was doing a feature on alcoholism in America. They’re running stories from people who dealt with it themselves, as well as family members of alcoholics.”
My pulse increases when I see a tab sticking out, marking a page. I open to it, the air sucked from my lungs when I read the title and byline.
The Biggest Lie
By Chloe Davenport, Contributor
I fling my eyes back to Evie, a dozen questions on the tip of my tongue.
“Viv thought your piece too important to run in Blush. So did the editor at Time.”
I run my finger over my name, still feeling like this can’t be real. I often imagined seeing my name in this magazine. I never thought it would happen. Thought all I’d ever do was write about the hottest celebrity gossip. But here it is… My story. In all its tragic, heart-wrenching beauty. Something that never would have been possible if Evie didn’t believe in me.
Overwhelmed, I throw my arms around her, squeezing. “Thank you.”
“You know I love you, Chloe. Cracks and all.”
Chapter Forty-Four
I zip up my suitcase, then check my bathroom and bedroom one last time to make sure I’m not forgetting anything. As long as I remember my bridesmaid
dress and shoes, everything else is replaceable.
At first, I was uncertain about spending a week in Hawaii when I could be working, but getting out of Manhattan is exactly what I need. Hopefully it will help clear my mind. And maybe I’ll even meet some hot islander to make me forget, even if for a little while.
My buzzer sounds and I check the time, seeing it’s not yet 5:30 in the morning. The driver Evie and Julian sent must be early.
I drag my bags into the foyer, then open the door without looking through the peephole, stopping short when my eyes fall on the familiar man standing on my doorstep.
“Dad? What are you—”
He brings his hand from his back, revealing a copy of the edition of Time my piece will appear in. It’s not supposed to drop until next week, but I’m sure someone in the industry saw my name and sent him a copy, probably to do damage control.
With a sigh, I step back. “Would you like to come in?” I figure it’s best for him to ream me out now instead of having this weigh on my mind during my vacation.
He doesn’t say anything. Just nods and walks into my apartment. I follow him, finding it odd to see him here. I don’t think he’s ever actually been to my place. To be honest, I’m surprised he even knows where I live.
“Can we make this quick? I have a flight to catch.” I cross my arms in front of my chest, not even asking why he thought it a good idea to come to my apartment so early on a Saturday. Based on the fact that he’s dressed in a suit, his tie loosened, his eyes bloodshot, he’s probably been at the office all night working. As always.
