by Rose Hudson
The floor of Lydia’s apartment is quiet as I step off and make my way to her door. So caught up in my thoughts, and the relief that this job is complete, that I didn’t call on my way. I knock a couple of times and hear nothing until she’s opening the door.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey,” she replies, moving to the side for me to enter. Her face is void of emotion although her lips carry a smile. I ease past her and make my way into the main room, hands in my pocket and watching her as she closes the door and makes her way back to the couch, picking up Liam, and grabbing the bottle from the coffee table.
“You okay?” I ask, sitting down beside her, reaching for Liam. She hesitates before looking back up at me with worried eyes, but handing him to me anyway.
“It’s been a long day. You’re here a little earlier than usual. How was yours?”
“Yeah, our job is complete. We just moved out our equipment and got everything cleaned up. I want you to come to the ribbon cutting ceremony.”
“You must be thrilled!” she says with joy that disappears as quickly as I see it. I get this uneasy feeling, like something’s not adding up. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to make the ceremony, but we’ll play it by ear. When is it?”
“The week of St. Patrick’s Day, I think.” My words come out in a rush, done talking about this and wanting to find out what’s really going on. “Talk to me. What’s going on? Did you get some news at the hospital today?”
She fiddles with the bracelet on her arms, turning it in revolution after revolution. Finally, she looks up at me.
“They’re saying that Madison has made significant progress. Apparently, they are moving her into the next phase of her recovery, and are moving her home for the remainder of her rehabilitation.”
I tilt my head to the side, looking her over and a little confused. I would think that would be cause for celebration or a smile at the very least. But instead, she just looks defeated.
“You seem pretty heartbroken.”
Liam begins to squirm and fuss. Lydia reaches out to take him, holding him to her chest and patting his back softly. She may be scared and a million other different emotions, but she always looks like such a natural.
“I’m heartbroken because I feel like I’ve taken something so precious away from Madi. She’s always wanted babies. Helps me understand why she stayed, or why I think she stayed. But I can’t understand why she didn’t tell me before that night and now that she’s awake and getting better, I feel guilty for still wanting to know why.”
“Probably for the same reasons you can’t consider being with someone like me; judgment, persecution.” I didn’t even stop myself to think how my words will affect her, I just let them fly.
“I don’t see how that’s true or relevant.” She stands, pacing slowly and rocking Liam gently.
“Well, I’m sure she knew you were firm in your opinion of this guy and she found herself in a situation where she wasn’t ready to confide in you because of your opinion. Maybe she loved him, maybe she didn’t. And it’s relevant because of how Aston looked at me and how you had nothing to say. I didn’t bring it up because it didn’t bother me. But I think it did bother you.”
Her pace increases where she walks back and forth between the windows and the coffee table in front of me.
“Madi was aware of my dislike for Damon. She was too good for him and I told her that he’d end up hurting her if she didn’t get away from him. If anything, he probably wouldn’t let her get away. And I didn’t say anything last night because it wasn’t the time or the place, Stone.”
“What does that have to do with her being better than him? Apparently, she didn’t see it that way.”
“And that’s why she’s laying in a hospital bed, and I’m taking care of a baby she’s not around for. A baby whose father is about to face trial for the attempted murder of his mother, yet you question Damon’s level of significance?”
“No, I question why that matters to Madison, or better yet, you. There’s no denying this guy was and is a piece of shit of the lowest order. But what about him, prior to the assault itself, would’ve set him at a lower standard of social class in life? According to you, of course. And by the way, I didn’t want you to say anything to them, I wanted you to say something to me. I don’t know, put my fucking mind at ease, tell me I’m not alone in whatever the fuck this is.” I can’t tell you why we’ve decided to duke this out right here, right now. But we do. She stalls, looking out the window and warring with herself and the words that want to come. We both know this conversation just stopped being about them and became about us.
Her head snaps around and she glares at me.
“What do you want me to say, Stone? That I still feel like anyone capable of destroying someone with their bare hands is not to be trusted? That because of you I can’t trust myself anymore? That I’m angry my guard comes down so easily when I want it to remain?” She steps closer to me and I see the wet streaks down her cheeks that I couldn’t see before. Her pained eyes drill determined into mine. “That I’m scared to death what happened to her is happening to me?”
“I’ve never given you any reason not to trust me. You’re safe with me and you know it.”
“Am I?” she scoffs. “I’m sure in the months leading up to her almost losing her life, Madison thought that about Damon, too.”
In all the times we’ve had this conversation, never in-depth and always dancing around the real answers, I’ve never grasped what was really at the core of Lydia’s issue with the idea of us.
I get it now.
Painfully so.
I get that no matter what I do, I’ll never be the person she can see herself with. I get that until right now, I hadn’t even known that’s what I was hoping for. But it is. Something I didn’t even know I was holding on to was just ripped from my tenuous grasp and I could beg to have it back, but you can’t have something back that you never had in the first place.
I grab my coat from the back of the couch, looking up at her and trying to form words that express how I feel, or at least express my apology for ever making her doubt herself.
“I’m a lot of things I’m not proud of, but I’m not him. That part of my life is over.”
Her brow furrows and her fists clench at her side, but if I know her, it’s because she’s fighting herself, not me.
“Is that why you’re fighting for Joseph Cameron? Because you aren’t like Damon?” Her words cut, but I don’t bleed. I could go into some in-depth conversation with her, explain all the ways I’m not, but there’s only one thing I can think of to say that will get through to her. I walk to the door, turning the knob, but hesitating when I pull it open.
“You and I aren’t as different as you think, Lydia. We both fight for the same reasons.”
MADISON’S HOMECOMING HASN’T SET IN until today, as we all gather at Aston and Liz’s house to welcome her. I boxed up Liam’s favorite things even though I knew they would have more than enough for him, and the odds of me watching him here and there are likely. He still has his favorite pacifier and blanket that I thought may bring him some comfort and ease the transition. The one thing that I desperately wanted him to have I can’t seem to find. I turned the apartment upside down looking for his bear without success. I know he’s far too small to know if it’s there or not, but knowing he had it would make me feel a little closer to him in his absence. The bear was meant as a reminder of Madi when she couldn’t be by his side, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t comfort me, too.
He’s been passed back and forth a hundred times between Mom, Liz, Madi and Margaret, while Dad, Aston and I have moved furniture and helped the medical supply technicians set up her rehab equipment and the rest of the necessary things needed for this phase of her recovery.
She stood and gave me a hug when we arrived hours ago, and I haven’t been able to rein in my emotions completely since. I guess all this time, a part of me was waiting for the other shoe to drop�
�waiting for the day that I’d have to stand by her grave and talk to her lifeless body through the lid of a casket. Now that my mind and soul have accepted that she’s back, and making progress every day, all those pent-up emotions are coming out in little, uncontrollable increments.
Standing in their kitchen, gazing through the kitchen window overlooking the back yard we spent so much time in growing up, I feel undeniably lost. Lost because I have no idea where my life goes after this because, without question or regret, I put it all on hold. But now that this day has come, I’m all out of excuses.
No more, “I can’t because I have to go to the hospital.”
No more, “I can’t because I have to take care of Liam.”
No more, “I can’t take clients because I need to be available to jump and run at the drop of a hat.”
No more, “I can’t love someone like Stone because he’s a monster like Damon.”
I am all out of excuses and now I don’t know who I am or what I want, other than I know I want to call Stone. I want to go see him. I want to kiss his lips and lose myself in him because he’s the only person who can give that to me, and he’s the only person I want that from.
The look on his face when he walked out that door started a pain in my heart that has yet to cease in all the days since. It’s still a gaping wound on my soul that will only be healed by his forgiveness and understanding. When I get the chance, I’ll do whatever it takes for him to understand why I had to push him away.
I was making him weak, and you can’t win your last fight being weak.
“So, I hear you’ll be coming back to the office tomorrow,” Aston’s voice says from behind. I turn and look at him, almost dropping the glass of water in my hand, deep in thought. I give the best smile I’ve got right now and nod.
He opens a cabinet beside the fridge and pulls out a bottle of bourbon.
“I think you deserve something a little stouter than water. Ice or straight?” He holds the bottle up to me.
“Actually, do you have any tequila? Drink of choice lately.”
He eyes me curiously, but turns back to the cabinet and moves a few things around, setting his bourbon on the island and pulling out a bottle of Casa Noble.
“Think this will work? Check the fruit basket, I’m sure there are some limes or lemons in there.” He takes a couple of rocks tumblers from the cabinet, placing one before each of us. I don’t even waste time with fruit or salt, barely letting the liquid settle in the glass before I put it to my lips and taste the burn on my tongue, all the way down to the pit of my belly. The reminder of drinking this from Stone’s lips welcome and only making me reach for the bottle a second time.
“Have you given mine and Stellan’s proposal anymore thought?” Aston asks as I throw back my second healthy dose. I set the glass down, debating on whether taking three shots back to back would look desperate. I peer up at him, pondering my answer as he sips his bourbon like the polished man he is.
“I’ve definitely considered it.”
“And?”
I turn to see my father. Without question, Aston retrieves another tumbler and sets it across from Dad, pouring two fingers of bourbon for him.
“And, I think at least until I make a firm and educated decision about my long-term goals, taking on the odd client at the firm is definitely my next step. I don’t think it would interfere with my duties as your assistant, but—”
“I don’t need an assistant. Diane is quite capable of tending to both mine and Aston’s clerical needs, and to be frank, I’m tired of seeing my daughter’s potential go to waste.”
“So, it’s settled,” Aston says, leaving no room for further discussion on the matter. First Dad, then Aston raise their glasses to me.
“To the only rookie we’ve ever had at Norberg & Eriksson,” Dad says. I grin, clinking my glass with theirs.
“Does this mean you’ll have to add ‘and Associates’ to the sign out front?” I eye them both and laugh.
“After you get your feet wet and decide this is where you want to be? Absolutely.”
“I’ll take that under advisement. I want to thank you both for the opportunity, but also apologize for my indecisiveness. I’ve just got some decisions to make is all.” I tilt my empty glass in their direction. Aston drains the contents from his glass, setting the now empty tumbler on the counter.
“Since we’re handing out apologies, I’d like to say that I’m sorry for the way I’ve acted toward Stone the couple of times I’ve seen him. You didn’t deserve that type of behavior from me, and I’m sure he didn’t either. You’re a smart woman and if you think he’s a decent young man, that should be enough for me.”
I stop pouring the tequila from the bottle to my glass mid-stream, the topic coming from him hitting harder than my own thoughts of Stone.
“He never mentioned it. He’s gotten used to others looking down their noses at him, but in this situation, he understands that it came from a place of concern and nothing else.” I roll the glass between my hands, knowing that getting tossed before my first day back to work probably isn’t the answer or the right thing to do. “Anyway, I’ve stepped back to give him space to be who he needs to be for this nightmare bullshit with Joseph Cameron to be over.”
“So, I assume he decided to accept Cameron’s terms?” Dad asks. I nod slowly, waiting for the inevitable lecture I know is coming. “Well, considering I’ve never been faced with a decision like that, it would be unfair to pass judgment on something I know nothing about.” Dad moves around the corner of the bar, placing his arm around my shoulder. “But I do find it difficult to believe my stubborn daughter isn’t in his ear, attempting to convince him otherwise.”
“I’ve got files of reasons explaining why I shouldn’t. People like Stone are disposable to people like Cameron, and I can’t let my feelings get in the way of due process.” Aston and my father share a look, Dad holding out his glass for Aston to refill.
“I don’t doubt the truth in that statement, or the head on your shoulders. But if you change your mind or decide you need our help, just say the word,” Aston says, palms flat on top the counter, eyes level with mine.
“I know. Thank you.”
Dad kisses the top of my head and we clink our glasses one last time before polishing off our drinks—next day hangover be damned. Because, knowing that I have a blessing from them makes knowing my full intent on getting Stone back, that much easier.
All eight of us sit down for our first dinner together in almost a year, including Margaret and Liam in his swing, fast asleep beside the dining room table. Thankfully Margaret prepared a family favorite, and between the pasta and bread, I should be like new from all the carbs before heading home.
“More,” Madi says, the notable expression on our faces every time she speaks ever present around the table. Liz scoops more pasta into her bowl, all too happy at Madi’s increase in appetite.
I push my plate to the side, feeling like a stuffed turkey on Thanksgiving.
“I’m really going to have to step up the jogging if I’m going to be eating over like this all the time.” I pat Margaret on the back where she sits beside me.
“Ahh. Just pretend it’s low carb and gluten free like all the stuff you girls eat these days.”
I guffaw in mock horror.
“I’m shocked. You’ve seen me eat and we both know low carb or gluten free isn’t on my list of preferences.”
“Well, that’s good. Because I’ve got a chocolaty dessert with your name all over it. I’ll be right—”
“Oh, no you don’t. I’m so full I’d bust if I ate anything else. Besides, I’ve got to get going and prepare for the real world tomorrow.”
“And you also have to pencil in a lunch date with your mother tomorrow. I know your boss, he won’t mind.” Mom grins over at my father.
“And I try to stay in good graces with this mother of yours, so I insist,” Dad says.
Mom stands, gathering empty plates and kissing
the top of his head as she makes her way to the kitchen. I look over at Madi, making a gagging face like we did as kids and she laughs.
I follow suit, gathering my own dinnerware and carrying it to the kitchen, stepping up to the sink beside Mom and rinsing off my dishes.
“How are you getting home? Did you make arrangements for a car?”
“I’m sure it will give Dad something to gripe about, but I’m just going to message for a cab.” I take my phone from my back pocket, looking quickly for any missed calls or texts from Stone before sending for a cab. Of course, there aren’t any. There hasn’t been any and I’m sure there won’t be.
“You know he just likes you to use the car service because he worries.”
“I know. But we both know he’s going to have to chill out a little. I’ve grown up in this city, I’ve got this.” She looks at me, nodding subtly before pulling me in for a hug.
“I know you’ve gotten attached to Liam, and I know it’s going to be an adjustment not having him there. If you need us, you call. Okay?”
I squeeze her tight before letting go and stepping back.
“I’ll be fine, Mom. Promise.” I tell her the half-truth, hoping that somehow by saying it, I can convince myself. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow.”
I walk back into the dining room, giving everyone quick hugs and giving Liam a long look in his swing, leaning down to kiss his little cheek. When I get to Madi, she holds up her hand, shaking her head. I look to Liz, the same confusion on her face as is on mine. Madi adjusts her walker beside her chair, trying to stand.
I hold her chair and grab her elbow, helping her up but unknowing what she’s getting up for. When she starts walking slowly to the family room, I follow, knowing she must need to show me something.
She finally makes her way to the desk along the wall and lifts an envelope from the top, turning to hand it to me. I look over it, Lydia written in what appears to be Liz’s handwriting. I run my finger under the sealed flap, but Madi’s hand on my arm stops me.
