Flawed

by Claudia Burgoa

  Fitz and Hunter had a meeting with a law firm that will be in charge of the trust fund to finance the improvements for the town. In the meantime, Hazel and I stayed at the hotel to rest for a couple of hours and got some time for us.

  “Are we going to visit them?” Hazel bites her lip, observing me and then shrugs. “We don’t have to do anything we don’t want, Willow.”

  “What do you want?”

  “World peace, to end world hunger,” she says, dead serious. She touches the base of her neck with her fingertips. “They’re our parents. Every person I met had a wonderful story about them.”

  “But?” I cross my arms, leaning back in my chair waiting for the punch line.

  “I don’t know what to think.”

  A pit of hopelessness opens in my stomach. Putting myself in my mother’s shoes, I try to imagine every step she has taken to picture the reaction and try to understand her actions. Some could be similar but others . . . My first instinct has always been to care for Hazel. No matter how hard things were, I always try my best to put her first. Because no matter how old she is, I still see her like that little, pink bundle that came home and needed love. How can Laila leave us for so long? I have a hunch that they stretched their trips longer and longer to stay away from us. She enjoyed the time without us. Loving us from afar is easier for her. There are no messy emotions to exchange. We don’t have to see our real mother.

  “She doesn’t want to lose us.”

  “What does that mean?” Hazel rests her hands on the iron table.

  “Why did she leave the project?”

  I explain my theory to her, repeating what Dad mentioned. “Mom abandoned us fearing that we’d abandon her.”

  “Then, should we give her time?” Hazel’s eyes narrow. That logical head of hers is already working a plan. “We can share some of the books we’ve been reading with Dad. Maybe start a campaign where we convince him to send her to therapy.”

  She claps, excitedly. “At least, that will show him we know that we’re learning how to love someone like her.” Hazel reaches out for my hand and squeezes it. “Though, I mess up from time to time.”

  “We aren’t playing doctor, Hazel,” I warn her.

  Rolling her eyes, she exhales. “I understand where your worry is coming from, but I only want to send her to a real doctor. She needs help. They aren’t as young as they used to be. They don’t have much money. They have to go back home at some point.”

  “Home in Santa Cruz?” Hazel stares at me, not moving a muscle. My question hit some sensible spot. “Has anyone been there since you moved out?”

  She shrugs, and I want to shake out all that information she holds from the years she lived there alone. When she told our father what she went through, I know we heard the edited version of the events. She claims to be doing great and moving on from her past. But why won’t she share more? I want that fucking more from her.

  “Will you be okay if our parents go back to live there?” She looks at the horizon, not saying a word.

  “It’s up to them where they decide to live.” She picks up her sunglasses, chewing the tip of the arm. “Maybe the McFees no longer live there. Maybe we’ll have to see them twice a year. It doesn’t matter.”

  “I wish you’d trust me with what happened between the two of you.”

  She laughs, and the sound is bitter. “I trust you. I’ve already told you several times. Elliot and I were young. I wanted so badly to be a McFee. I was scared he’d leave like our parents had. So when he asked me to marry him, I did.”

  She starts crying and laughing. “God, I did because then he’d never leave. How stupid was I?” she mumbles between sobs. “He wouldn’t do what our parents had done, I told myself. He can’t—you two are married forever. But he did. What hurts is that he knew about my past. He hated them for abandoning me . . . he knew better.”

  There’s a long pause, and I’m tempted to ask questions. I don’t know which one is right or wrong. Instead, I wait for her to calm down.

  “I called him last night.”

  “What happened?”

  She shakes her head. “Nothing, I remained silent while he said, hello five times. Then he said, ‘I’m here, baby. Whatever it is, I’m here for you. Tell me where you are, I’ll go to you right now.’” She swallows. “He didn’t hang up for a long time, and we remained silent. He knew it was me, and I needed him. Just like he knew when I was about to hang up because that’s when he said, ‘I miss you too, Bee.’”

  “Why don’t you talk to him?”

  She grabs a napkin and cleans her face. “I think he cheated,” she whispers, her voice miserable.

  Her eyes remain on the water before they close. I wait for many, many beats for her.

  “Of all the shit I have to work through, that’s the last piece.” She opens her eyes, touching her head. “As you know it’s a process. Things don’t happen overnight. Once I work through it, I’ll tell you everything. I’m a little embarrassed by what I did. I feel reckless. I did so much to please him, to help his family. He . . .” She sighs. “He was the best when we were together. That’s how I want to remember him.”

  “You know what, Bee?” I say, taking something she just said and applying it to myself. “Once I work through all my issues, I’ll be ready to deal with Mom. Yesterday, what Dad came to say, that’s all I need for now.”

  Hazel smiles. “Then, we wait. I love our parents, but you are my person. I care about you most of all. Until you’re ready, we will stay in our corner. I’m following your lead, Wills.”

  For a few more minutes, we chat about Gramps: taking him on vacations, Christmas in a tropical place, and New Year up in the cabin. She wants us to keep creating memories as much as I do.

  Thirty-Three

  What happens in Brazil

  Nothing like reality to keep you on your toes. ~ Anonymous.

  Our trip ended almost two days after we spoke to my father. Surfing happens in Puerto Rico, instead of a resort in Brazil. Anderson, had to go home because his mother wasn’t feeling well. Part of Tiago’s family lives in Puerto Rico. He thought it’d be best to go to a place where he didn’t have to watch everyone. Hunter asked for a suite for us. We didn’t do much talking unless we count the dirty talk.

  Two days later, we boarded the jet, and a few hours later, we arrived home. Jensen picked us up from the airport. When the service car pulled over in front of our building, it was a bittersweet moment. I know I’ll see the guys often, but after we had spent so much time together, we bonded and became close.

  I am going to miss seeing the same faces, listening to the same laughs, and the same complaints every day. It’s okay—I have lots of things to keep me busy. I have to practice for an audition that my agent booked for next Monday. Also, Transcendent Productions, the company I’m working with, sent the script for next season’s show. It’s a sitcom called “Life or Something Like That.” It’s funny, diverse, and touches problems that society tries to overlook. Television wasn’t part of my career plan, but this production company is so easy to work with and understanding. They always promise to adjust the filming schedule for my theater schedule. Just like they do with all their other actors.

  “Leaving, Wills,” Hazel announces.

  Lifting my gaze, I’m surprised to see the business woman version of my sister.

  “I thought you were taking a nap,” I tell Hazel, who is walking toward the elevator wearing a black vintage dress and a pair of high heeled sandals I plan to steal for my audition. Those are super cute. Her hair is curly, covering her shoulders, and she’s wearing a light base of makeup. “Where are you going?”

  “My assistant called.” She calls the elevator. “There are a few emergencies that need to be taken care of. I’d rather do it from my office.”

  She tilts her head to my iPad. “Anything you can disclose about the upcoming season?”

  “Of the show?” I twist my lips giving her a you’re not going to find out look. “No
pe.”

  “Can you tell me if Jorge is leaving?” She has a crush on that actor, or maybe it’s the character. Either way, I promised to introduce her to my coworkers during next season’s filming.

  “I can’t say a thing.”

  “Ugh, I can’t wait until . . . when are you guys premiering the second season?”

  I shrug. “They haven’t told me. But they sent a three-season contract.”

  “As in there’ll be three seasons?”

  Shaking my head, I smile at her. “As in there’ll be five seasons, I already signed for the first two seasons, remember?”

  She claps excitedly. “Hold that thought, and tell me more when I come back.” She steps into the elevator, leaving me to read.

  Hazel has never been excited about my work. Not because she didn’t care, but because we never took the time to sit down and talk about our careers. I still don’t understand what exactly it is that she does, since she also works for Scott. I still enjoy listening to what she does and who she’s helped. Our relationship has evolved, and for that I’m thankful. Everything that has happened lately is good. My grandfather and I have a good relationship. Not as amazing as the one he has with Hazel, but I think that’s because of her character. She’s more of a hugger than I am, and they have lived together for longer.

  As I go back to my manuscript, a notification that I have a new email pops up. It’s from Grant, my father. As promised, Dad received a phone and a computer when he arrived in Mexico. Harrison gave us the phone number and his email address. Mom didn’t want to have her own. They can share. I’m not going to explain to her that sharing an email address is a little creepy. It’s like sharing your toothbrush. One time is okay-ish, but after that, you have to get your own.

  To: Willow & Hazel

  From: G. Beesley Jr.

  Subject: Visit

  Girls,

  I heard Willows voicemail, and it saddens me that I won’t see you this summer. Maybe it is for the best. Your mother is still upset about Brazil. I am reading the books that you suggested, but going to a doctor isn’t possible. The psychologists and psychiatrists here don’t speak fluent English. Going into the city is too much for your mother to handle. The traffic is impossible, the sky is polluted, and the people aren’t friendly. I have explained numerous times to her that people don’t walk through the streets waving at everyone like she does. But it’s not worth the fighting to convince her that not everyone is like her.

  Thank the Everhart boys for their help, and say hi to their father. Christopher and I used to go to the same school. If we ever go to New York, I hope to see him again and meet his wife.

  Please, don’t stop writing. I like to hear from you.

  Love you,

  Grant.

  I stare at the email wondering how long ago my father disconnected from his own father and the life he lived in New York. Grant doesn’t even realize that Christopher and Charlotte died in the nine-eleven attacks. I want to search around the house for pictures of Dad, try to learn about his childhood, and picture him like a boy who once belonged to a family. Does he miss that?

  The doors of the elevator open, and my grandfather steps into the apartment. His smile widens when he sees me.

  “I heard you were home, and I had to come by.”

  “Gramps.” I open my arms and go to him. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too.” He pats my back. “How are you?”

  “Tired. We worked a lot and slept too little.” I tell him everything about our trip. My version, I’m sure he has heard Hazel’s already. If not, he will once she’s home.

  We go to the kitchen as I continue telling him about our visit and the children. Also, about his son. He listens while I prepare him a cup of coffee and he drinks it without interrupting me. Once I’m done, I drink an entire glass of water. I can’t believe I was chatting for about an hour, and only paused a few times.

  “I’m glad to hear he gave you an explanation,” he finally speaks. “Your grandmother and I tried so hard to help them. Maybe our first approach was what distanced them from us.”

  “First approach?”

  “We ordered your father to leave her. She didn’t look like the kind of girl we would’ve wanted for our boy.”

  “How so?”

  He shakes his head. “It was another time. Class, money, education. All of them mattered more than knowing if the girl was kind, loving, or a good person.” He places his empty mug on the counter. “After that, anything we said about her wasn’t welcomed by your father. He knocked her up, and she didn’t want to marry.”

  “But they were living together.”

  “I understand it now. Back then I was blinded by the social implications.”

  He gives me a sad smile. “I’m just glad that my girls are home. What’s the plan for tonight?”

  “Whatever you want to do, Gramps. You deserve to have an entire day dedicated to you.”

  “I was promised the weekend.” He smiles at me. “Now that I had a few minutes to see you, I must go back to work.”

  “Dinner tonight?” I ask, walking behind him.

  “Yes, sweetheart. Make sure your sister gets out of the office, too. Knowing her, she’s going to try to tackle that to-do list in one day.”

  I wave at him as the elevator doors close. It’s nice to know that someone loves me, that he cares enough to leave his office to come to check on me. If things never work out with my parents, I don’t care. I have my grandfather who will do almost anything for me.

  Thirty-Four

  Never Stop Dreaming

  New York, concrete jungle where dreams are made of, there’s nothing you can’t do. ~ Empire State of Mind.

  “Are you still working?” Fitz pokes his head into my office.

  Looking at the time, I shake my head, save my document and close my laptop. “No, I can continue tomorrow. What’s up?”

  “We haven’t talked since we came back from Brazil.” He saunters inside, closing the door behind him. “You said that you wanted to make some changes.”

  Our practice focuses on corporate law. Mainly because our own corporation needed lawyers we could trust. Who better than Fitz and myself? From time to time, I’ve stepped out of corporate law and practiced some family and worker’s compensation law. While traveling, I began asking myself questions. What do I want to do? Who do I want to be? Law is broad, and not many can pay someone three hundred dollars an hour for legal advice or to defend them.

  “I want to add lawyers who can handle family law and civil litigation.” I cross my arms, clamping my emotions down. He shouldn’t know that I’m already raging as I expect his continuous condescending tone. Fuck, I’m scared he might kick me out because he’s been doing all this shit all by himself for the past months. “We are a strong firm, and it wouldn’t be hard to gain clients in those areas.”

  “Okay.” He takes a seat on the chair in front of my desk, leans back and waits for me.

  “With new lawyers joining, we can also add pro bono cases.”

  His jaw twitches, and his eyebrows knit together. “Who is going to work those cases?”

  “Everyone working in this firm should be required to work one a month—at least,” I respond, opening my computer back up and printing the plan I had been working on for the past couple of months. “We can make it a condition to earn their monthly bonus.”

  I turn around to grab the papers from the printer and hand them to him. Fitz takes them, going through each one. The time ticks, his eyes scan through the pages. He shakes and nods every few seconds. At least it feels that way to me. Once he finishes, he stacks them and sets them on top of my desk. His eyes narrow. Fuck, the last lines. He didn’t like them. Well, I don’t fucking care.

  Bracing myself for his reaction, I grab the edge of my desk. There are plenty of law firms that would hire me. I can start my own practice and do whatever the fuck I want. He either starts seeing me as his partner, or I’m done.

  “So he ei
ther accepts, or he can fuck himself?” His brow arches. “Not very professional, little brother. I admit, up until last year we’ve been treating you like a kid. For that, I apologize.”

  Blood pounds in my temples as I process his words. Not what I expected to hear from him. “What are you saying?”

  “You worked your ass off with our international clients,” he says, tilting his head. “I expect you’ll keep working the same, because this is your firm, too.”

  “We’re good then?” I point at the papers. “You are telling me that as early as tonight, I can recruit new lawyers.”

  “As long as you’re the one in charge of that side of the firm.” He nods in approval. Then, he lifts his finger. “We have to discuss the new hires, though, and we can add anything, but criminal law.”

  Fitz appears sincere, but after all these years, he’s just giving in without a fight? “Are you for real? Just like that, no questions asked. What’s the catch?”

  He laughs, shaking his head. “You’re babysitting the new lawyers. That’s the only catch.” Standing up, he points at the door. “Join us for dinner.”

  “Us?”

  “Scott, Harrison, and Hazel. You didn’t answer the invite.”

  Pulling my phone, I check all the miss calls and texts.

  Hazel: Dinner at Gramps tonight.

  Harrison: I’m in.

  Scott: What time?

  Fitz: Who’s cooking? Please, say not you.

  Hazel: I prepare a killer lasagna, but tonight, it’s takeout.

  Fitz: Most of what you prepare is food to kill. I almost died of food poisoning the last time you cooked.

  Scott: What time?

  Hazel: I arrive home around 7. Should we say, 7:30?

  Hazel: The meat you brought was bad, Fitz. We almost died because of you. Not my cooking.