by Nadia Lee
“What the hell, man? If I go that route, she’s going to hate me.”
He shrugs. “She already hates you.”
The four simple words stop me. Her contemptuous expression drips through my consciousness like acid. She found my effort pitiable, my hands grimy, my very presence about as pleasant as a pile of dog shit left on her nice front porch. My mouth dries, and I surreptitiously wipe my hands on my pants.
Blake isn’t finished dispensing wisdom. “Why did you go see her in the first place? When you got Elizabeth’s package. Surely it wasn’t to win her back, was it?”
No. I wanted to take back what I lost when she left me—my warmth and vitality. And she gave me a glimpse of something even better in that one week. Now that she’s taken it back again, I feel colder and emptier than ever.
“You changed course, you let your guard down, and what happened?” Blake grows serious. “You should never let anyone who doesn’t love you in. And most importantly, you should never love anyone who doesn’t respect you enough to be honest about what she’s doing. She played you like a dancing monkey, the same way Betsy used to. Jump this high. Good, now higher. If you jump high enough, I’ll give you what you want! You’ll be rewarded!” He pauses. “Were you ever rewarded?”
My throat closes. Suddenly my mind is flooded with memories of how my mother used to make me promises—be good, stay clean, don’t touch her…then I’ll take you to Disneyland…I’ll take you to the movies…I’ll take you to see Santa…
Except she never kept her promises, no matter what I did. She always found something to object to. I walked too loudly. I was sweaty after playtime in the park. I was standing too close to her.
Blake continues, “Ava set you up, Lucas. She wasn’t going to give you a chance no matter what you did, but she made you jump through the hoops anyway.”
I shove my hand into my hair and clench until my scalp hurts. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I hate every syllable out of his mouth, but I can’t deny what he’s saying is true.
She did set me up.
Two weeks of gut-twisting anxiety. Sleepless nights filled with hope, then despair. A coolly delivered rejection. Always the same fucking message—no matter how hard I try, I’m not worthy. I stop as the image of how she looked the last time passes through my mind. As beautiful as an angel I can never hope to touch… Her platinum hair flowing behind her, and her eyes flashing a huge warning sign that screams, “Stay away.” I bared my soul to her. Told her I loved her…and she called me toxic.
The harder I try, the more contemptible I become.
My pathetic fantasy of her being so miserable she’ll welcome me back into her life is exactly that—a fantasy. She’ll never welcome me back. She’ll curl her lip, make it crystal clear I’m unworthy.
That I’m fundamentally, intrinsically too flawed to be redeemed.
Why did I ever harbor such a sad little hope? Haven’t I learned better? Shit like that happens in movies, not in real life. If I got hit by a truck, she wouldn’t look twice.
Suddenly I’m pissed off.
I did nothing to hurt her. The whole fucking marriage-for-paintings deal is Dad’s doing, and the leak is Wife Number Three’s fault. I never treated Ava unfairly, never lied to her.
Why should I feel bad? Why should I grovel?
I’m not some kid desperate for approval and love. That shit’s over. I cut ties with my mother for that reason, and I’m not waiting decades before I finally get it through my head that it’s over with Ava.
If she hated me, found me so lacking, she should’ve just said so, instead of playing me the way Mom used to when she wanted to see how far I’d go to earn her love.
“You’re right,” I say.
Blake nods. “She doesn’t deserve you.”
“I’m getting the fuck out of here.”
“Good call.”
“Someplace warm.”
“Why don’t you try L.A.?” Blake says. “You’ve been gone for too long. Everyone would love to have you around, and you can stay at my new place. I got a penthouse. Three levels.”
“When?”
“A few months ago. Got tired of Boston. Too close to Virginia.” Too close to our despicable father and his vapid new wife, he means. “I’m only in and out of there, and I wouldn’t mind sharing it. It has two giant suites anyway, although the master suite is mine.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “Don’t worry. I’ll take the closet.” Knowing Blake’s taste, the place is going to be large and expensive.
“Perish the thought. Elizabeth would flay me. The change of scenery will be good for you.”
“I know. But before I can go, I need some closure.”
“Closure?” Blake raises an eyebrow. “Don’t kneel and beg for crumbs. She’s not worth it.”
My hands clench. Leave it to him to sum everything up with such stark clarity, even if it’s something I don’t want to hear. There is still part of me that wants to try again with Ava, but fuck it. Everything he said is right. Hope is for the weak, so they can keep digging without realizing they’re making the ditch too deep to get out of. A toxic drainage ditch. “I’m not begging her for anything, but there’s a debt between us, so I need to settle that before I go.”
Blake smirks. “Make her pay dearly.”
I don’t bother to correct him. It would only make him argue with me more.
It’s me who owes her. But once my debt is cleared, I’ll be free.
Chapter Six
Ava
By the time I return to the house, my legs are shaking. As soon as I close the door, I let them fold underneath me and bury my face in my hands.
I’m not going to sit around and watch you punish my brother for something he didn’t do.
Blake… That bastard.
How dare he act like I’m being unfair? I’m not the villain here. I’m a victim of Lucas’s deception. And whatever pain Lucas supposedly feels, it can’t be greater than mine. After all, he never loved me the way I loved him.
Even now I want to run back and tell him I forgive everything and that we can start fresh, with me helping him get the painting. I don’t even care if the marriage is only for a year, so long as we can be together. Surely I can change his mind in those twelve months…
What the hell is the matter with me? I bury my face in my hands. What he’s done should be enough to kill my love for him.
Disgusted with myself, I shower quickly, setting the water temp as hot as I can stand. I despise my own weakness. It makes me want to do the very same things that got my mom into trouble.
Too tired to bother with a dryer, I towel my hair and put on some old jeans and a navy-blue sweater. The mirror shows eyes that are dark and unhappy, and I hate it that I’m feeling this way. Why does being rational hurt so bad?
My cell phone jars me out of my misery. It’s an email from Robbie at the Sterling Medical Center.
Subject: Offer
Dear Ava,
We loved meeting you, and we would like to offer you a position at our organization.
I blink, uncertain if I’m reading it right. After weeks of disappointment, it seems shocking that something could be going my way.
I scan the rest of the message, which details things like pay and relocation assistance. The salary looks great, although knowing the cost of living in L.A., it’s probably not that great. Having lived in Osaka, I know how far money goes—or more precisely, doesn’t go—in a pricey city.
But L.A. is a new opportunity. And it’ll mean being far away from Lucas, since he seems determined to remain in Charlottesville. I hate leaving like this, but staying here just isn’t good for me. Driving by Lucas’s house, missing him, thinking about him, obsessing about him—all of it’s just self-destructive. And until now, I didn’t consider the possibility that I’d also run into his family. God. That’s the last thing I want. They probably blame me for not falling at his feet and begging him to marry me so they can get their multimillion-dollar paintings. Blake was
pretty blatant in his hostility, and the others will be too.
Rich people don’t become rich by being nice.
I send a quick note to Robbie, letting him know I’m thrilled to accept the offer and will start as soon as possible. I also text my old college roommate Erin to let her know I’ll be joining the medical center. She’s the one who put me on Robbie’s radar, so I definitely owe her now, even though I know she didn’t do it to get a favor in return. I then call the HR contact, Molly Jayden, to let her know my decision and ask for relocation help.
“You sure you don’t want to wait until after Thanksgiving?” she says, sounding concerned.
“I’m sure. Besides, after Thanksgiving is Christmas, and then there’s New Year’s… I’d rather not wait until next year,” I say. “I don’t have that much stuff to pack anyway. I just moved back from Japan.”
“Ah. That’s right. I remember hearing about that when you came in for your interview.” She hmmms for a moment. “Let me send you our relocation agency’s info. We have a contract with them. They’ll arrange everything.”
It feels amazing to have my life moving forward again. “I’d really appreciate it.”
“And it’s great you’re starting so soon. We needed to fill the position ASAP. Just between you and me, Robbie’s been pretty overwhelmed with the opening and all. We want to make sure everything goes without a hitch, you know.”
“I’m glad the timing worked out.”
“Cool. See you when you’re settled in town?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
I hang up and sit at the edge of my bed. This is a spectacular opportunity, and the medical center seems to be a great place to work.
A new beginning.
God, I need that after so many disasters. This is going to work out. I can feel it. I’m due for some good luck.
My phone buzzes with a new text. It’s Erin. OMG so exciting! Congrats! We should celebrate when you get to L.A.
I smile and write back, YES! I then Facebook message Bennie. He’ll kill me if he doesn’t hear the big news from me directly. You were right. Got the job, and L.A. bound!
My hair still damp, I go downstairs, phone in the back pocket of my jeans. Darcy and Ray come out from the nursery with Mia in Darcy’s arms. Seventeen months old, Mia is a delightful little princess with a bright pink dress with faux-fur trim around the square neckline and a small tiara in her hair.
“Good morning,” Darcy says, and Mia squeals with delight at the sight of me, her ice-blue eyes bright.
My foster mother hands me the child, and I hold her slight weight close and smell her sweet toddler smell. Her cheeks are rosy from sleep, and I rub mine against hers as my heart expands with unbearable love.
Darcy runs her fingers through her meticulously cut bob, restoring a bit of order to the messy morning hair. Although her brown locks now have some silver, her sparkling gray eyes and open smile make her look younger than some women half her age. She’s in a comfortable sweater, jeans and boots. Darcy was born into old money, but I’ve never seen her wear anything that looked ostentatious.
His pale blue eyes warm, Ray puts an arm around her, squeezing her shoulders. His hair is bright silver—having gone prematurely gray a while back. Not that the distinguished and professorial effect hurts him any.
“You’re up early. Thought you got in late,” Ray says.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I got up for a short jog around the neighborhood.” I don’t want to burden them with my unpleasant encounter with Blake.
“Good for you. Exercise helps clear the head,” Darcy says. I know she’s worried about me. Both of them were, after I told them what happened between me and Lucas. “How’d the interview go?”
“It went great. I just got an offer…which I have accepted.”
A wide grin splits her face. “Good for you! I’m so proud of you.”
“Congratulations, hon.” Ray hugs me. “When do you start?”
“ASAP. Apparently my boss is swamped.”
“Oh.” Darcy’s eyebrows rise. “Before Thanksgiving, then?”
I nod. “I’ll come back to celebrate with you guys, though.” Or at least I hope I will. I’ll make it happen.
“No, don’t,” she says. “It’s going to be exhausting, flying back and forth like that. Why don’t we all celebrate it in L.A.? There’s nothing that says we have to do it here.”
I blink. “Are you sure?” Holidays are a big deal to Darcy. She spends a huge amount of time and effort decorating and cooking. “My place in L.A is most likely going to be small, and the kitchen won’t…”
She pats my hand. “Thanksgiving isn’t just about cooking and eating. It’s about spending time with your loved ones. It’s enough that you’re in the States. Besides, it’d be fun to spend some time in California. Isn’t that right, Ray?”
“Of course. We’ll be delighted to.” His smile says he can deny his wife nothing, that he’s still deeply in love with her after decades of life together.
Suddenly I see with absolute clarity that I’ve wanted what Ray and Darcy have, and that Lucas is never going to be the one to give it to me. Our happy moments have been exactly that—moments. Not something we can build anything permanent on, no matter how much I want it to be different.
“Who’s ready for some waffles?” Ray rubs his hands together. “We gotta celebrate.”
Mia raises both hands and squeals, “Waffos!”
Darcy laughs, and I force a grin. “I’m always up for celebratory waffles.”
Ray goes into the kitchen and wraps an apron around his waist. I hold the child that is both mine and not mine, soaking in her small and squirming warmth. I have awesome people around me. I’m going to be okay.
Chapter Seven
Ava
I thought I wouldn’t have much to do for the move—I mean, it’s not like I have a lot of stuff—but there’s the matter of finding a place and arranging things with the relocation agency. The rep sent me a list of suitable apartments, and I pore over everything with Ray and Darcy. She insists on furniture shopping, since she’s a big believer of buying nice things to fill a new home. And every time we leave the house, I see Lucas’s pot—how I think about it now—on the porch. Each reminder is like a knot forming in my throat. It’s about time I emptied the thing and put it away. What did I promise myself when I started college?
Clean up your own messes. Don’t be a burden. Be kind, but firm. Don’t let anyone take advantage.
I bend down to pick up the terra cotta, then stop when my phone rings. I straighten and check it. The call’s from an unknown number in Virginia, but I answer anyway. It’s probably about my impending move.
“Hello?”
“Is this Ava Huss?” The voice is male, brisk and professional.
“This is she.”
“Excellent. My name is Don Peterson. I’m a lawyer representing Mr. Lucas Reed.”
My mouth dries as panic flares. Lucas got a lawyer? Why?
He knows about Mia…and wants to take her away.
Don Peterson keeps talking, but I can’t process anything through the roar in my head. Finally, he stops and says, “Does that make sense to you?”
I want to tell him none of it makes sense. Lucas doesn’t want me, and Blake made it clear Lucas doesn’t need me to inherit. So what gives?
“I’m sorry,” I start, forcing myself to stay calm. “The connection was a little bad, and you got cut off here and there. Do you mind explaining again?” I swallow, then gird my loins and focus.
“Of course. Mr. Reed would like to give you the money he’s promised and have you sign a document releasing him from any further liabilities or obligations to you.”
My mind goes blank for a moment. The money? “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”
“It’s my understanding that Mr. Reed promised you two million dollars when you quit your job and returned to the States with him.”
Quit my job. What a joke. Is that what he told h
is lawyer? I was forced out of my job, thanks to his maneuvering. And the money… What the hell? Does he think throwing some money at me is going to make me forget what he’s done? There’s nothing that can make me pretend he didn’t lie to me. “You can tell Mr. Reed it isn’t necessary. I don’t need his money. I’ve told him so already.”
The lawyer clears his throat. “I’m not sure you understand. The money is yours, free and clear.”
“Didn’t you say you represent Lucas?”
“Yes.”
“So give him my message. This is good for your client, right? He’s going to save himself two million bucks.”
“Yes, bu—”
“Goodbye, Mr. Peterson. Please don’t call back.” I hang up, then empty the pot.
But putting it away doesn’t make me feel liberated from the hold Lucas has over my heart. Perversely, I feel like I’ve misplaced something vital.
Come on. Ending things with Lucas is more for my benefit. Do I want to become like my mother, unable to leave a toxic man who used her without any sense of guilt or wrongdoing, just because he could? Do I want to set a poor example for Mia? I’d rather die than to have her look at me with embarrassment or pity.
I’ve already accepted that Lucas isn’t the one to give me the future I want. I really need to stop feeling so awful. Just…forget it all. Move on.
One day at a time.
I pull my shoulders back and look skyward, opening myself and letting the sunlight fall on my face. I inhale deeply. Eyes closed, I imagine all the negativity and ugly memories fleeing my body like exorcised demons as I expel the air from my lungs. I repeat this a few times, enough to feel more centered and calm.
A loud tire squeal shatters my Zen state. I open my eyes and see a black Mercedes skid to a stop. Lucas jumps out.
I shake my head. This has to be a hallucination. What else could explain his presence? He hasn’t shown himself since I told him we were through.
But he doesn’t disappear. He walks closer, his gait wide and slightly uneven. The look in his eye is cold enough to freeze nitrogen. A flush tinges his cheeks, and his lips are pressed white.
