by J. L. Berg
Everything looked the same, yet it didn’t.
The same weathered fence still stood proud and tall, surrounding the old house from intruders. As we got the go-ahead and were let inside the iron gate, I still felt that tiny flutter of awe as we approached the house I used to live in as a child.
It really was breathtaking. Built in the 1800s, it had been completely renovated and remodeled to its former glory, still maintaining the historical integrity without looking worn-out or tired. Walking through this house was like talking a step back in time, minus all the Jags and Mercedes parked out in front.
We pulled up behind another car, and I laughed as Jackson nearly jumped out of his seat when an attendant opened his door.
“I thought you were a fancy lawyer.” I watched him drop his keys into the other man’s hand.
He walked around to take my hand. “A fancy lawyer who parks his own car,” he corrected.
“Sexy.”
Noah joined us from the backseat, and the three of us approached the front door. As I lifted the heavy brass knocker, I suddenly felt like Dorothy with her band of misfits, approaching Emerald City’s gates. Would we be turned away or welcomed with opened arms?
A bearded man did indeed answer the door, but he was not covered in green, and no color-changing horses were in sight as we stepped through the double doors.
I looked around at the house where I’d grown up, taking in the slight changes and upgrades. The floors had recently been polished, no longer carrying the heavy grooves and dents of the years. A couple of new pieces of furniture sat in the formal living room next to a grand piano I remembered from my youth.
A few people milled around the interior of the house, pointing at various pieces of sculptures or paintings, but the majority of the guests had made their way outside, which was where we were also headed.
Jackson said nothing as we made our way to the back garden. He just clutched my hand as he rubbed my thumb with his own, silently supporting me, while I tried to keep the ghosts of the past at bay. I knew my parents were making an effort to make up for all the heartache and pain, but that didn’t keep the hurt from surfacing. The sudden reappearance of my parents’ affection couldn’t erase eight years of loneliness in an instant, and as I wandered through the house that had once brought me so much joy, those truths became abundantly clear.
Jackson leaned over with a small smile. “One day at a time, remember?” he whispered in my ear.
“Is that your milkshake wisdom of the day?” I grinned back.
“Something like that. Did it work? Or do I need to run out and grab the Oreos and ice cream?”
We reached the double doors leading to the grand garden my mother was so proud of when I paused. I kissed his cheek fondly. “It was perfect. Let’s go fraternize.”
“Do I have to hold my pinkie up when I drink?” Noah asked, somehow managing to make me giggle at just the right time.
“Be a rebel,” I answered, looking over at him with a smirk. “Pinkies down.”
He gave me a sheepish grin as Jackson opened the massive glass door, and we stepped out onto the patio. Everything was exquisitely decorated down to the twinkling lights and the floral arrangements that probably cost more than my car.
All of this—the lavish party and huge expense was just an elaborate effort to raise money, so my father’s team could spend it on additional campaign functions to collect even more cash. My head started to spin from just thinking about it.
“Olivia!” my father’s exuberant voice called out through the crowd.
Dressed in a tailored jacket and slacks, he looked exactly as I remembered him standing on that stage all those years ago while watching him deliver his victory speech. A man of the people, he was dressed for business and ready for action.
Before, he used to come home and shed the monkey suit, as he’d called it. He’d trade the stiff slacks for a pair of worn jeans, so he could chase me and play with me in the backyard among my mother’s flower and herbs garden. Those were the days when he had still been mine.
After becoming a man of the people, he wouldn’t take off the suit much, not even when he’d returned home late at night. He’d disappear into his office, shutting the door to take conference calls. I’d see him loosen his tie and shed his jacket, but the jeans had been forgotten, like many things—including me.
My mother would be more sympathetic to it or perhaps she’d learned to adjust better than I ever had. I was young and in need of a father, and I’d lacked the maturity to understand what was happening.
I shook my head, trying to clear out the sad memories, and I focused on the man who was coming toward me. This man was attempting to make amends, and I should at least give him the opportunity to do so. He was my father after all. A little bit of that man who had worn the jeans and told me fairy tales at night must be in there somewhere.
“I’m so glad you made it,” he said, pulling me into his arms for a tight hug. He pulled back and gazed at me as if he were studying my face. “You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman, Livvy Lou.”
“Livvy Lou?” Noah said from behind me, giggling at my nickname.
“Shut it,” I grumbled.
“And who might this be?” my father inquired, a large welcoming smile on his face as he turned his attention to Noah.
“This is my son, Noah, Senator.”
“Now, what did I say about calling me that, Jackson? Please, call me Doug.”
“I shall try,” Jackson replied, squeezing my hand when he saw me smirk.
“The boyfriend has a son?” a man next to my father interjected.
I’d been so focused on my dad meeting Noah that I hadn’t noticed anyone else joining our small group, but indeed, there he was—a stubby old man who had a snarl for a smile. He reminded me of Mr. Burns from The Simpsons.
“Is there a problem?” I asked pointedly.
“No, we’ll figure out a way to spin it,” he mumbled to himself before quickly walking away from our little circle.
I looked up at my father for answers.
He seemed embarrassed and promptly apologized, “Sorry, that is Ned. He’s one of my campaign managers, and he’s a bit quirky.”
Quirky wasn’t exactly the word I would choose to describe him.
“Is there something I should know?”
“No, darling. Please don’t think anything of it.”
“Okay,” I answered.
A quick glance over toward Jackson told me he was anything but okay with it.
In an attempt to defuse the tension, I suggested we grab some food. Food always seemed to make everything better, and if I knew one thing, my mother had spared no expense in that area.
“Holy—” Noah began to say. He quickly stopped when Jackson’s eyes darted over and gave him a death stare.
“This looks good,” Noah amended.
I tried not to laugh at his obvious language blunder.
Oh, to be young and impressionable again.
I didn’t think Jackson found it nearly as funny as I did.
We found an empty table under the shade and spent the next thirty minutes enjoying the expensive food, people watching, and talking among ourselves. Noah casually announced that he’d made a friend at school named Sam, who liked Xbox and played the guitar. Jackson and I looked up at each other, our eyes widening in excitement, but we tried to keep our cool.
“That’s great, buddy,” Jackson answered as he stole a canapé from Noah’s plate.
Watching the two of them, I couldn’t help but smile. Opening myself up to Jackson and Noah had made life a hundred times scarier.
What if I ended up hurt? What if I hurt them?
In retrospect, it had also made life a million times more exciting. My smile wasn’t just a smile anymore. It was a window into my soul because they made me feel completely alive.
“Where’s your mother? We haven’t had a chance to say hello yet,” Jackson commented. Sitting back in his chair, he sipped o
n his beer.
“She’s usually incredibly busy at these types of events. She sees to every detail. I guess it makes her feel like a part of the team.”
“Well, we should go find her and thank her for including us,” he suggested.
“Sounds like a great idea,” I agreed.
Leaving our happy spot, we all stood and wandered around, looking for my mother. She was nowhere in sight, so I suggested we head inside to continue our search for her.
Walking back into the air-conditioned house was like stepping inside a freezer. The cool air hit my body like a wall of ice, and my skin prickle everywhere.
“Here, take my jacket,” Jackson offered, sliding the dark gray blazer off his shoulders to hang on mine.
“Thanks. Why don’t we try my dad’s office? Maybe she’s paying one of the caterers or something.”
We rounded the corner, walking down the long hallway, and we stopped just outside the office. I held up my hand to knock when I heard my father’s voice, and I stopped.
“I can’t do anything about the fact that her boyfriend has a son. You figure it out. This was your idea.”
“Well, she wasn’t dating anyone when I suggested it, but we’ll work something out. Right now, we need your family intact. When your bid for presidency is officially announced, those reporters will start digging. An estranged, crazy daughter is exactly what we don’t need. Fix it, Doug. Fix it now.”
Tears stung my eyes, and wetness spilled down my cheeks. Jackson’s hard chest engulfed me, and my body buried itself into him. I barely remember moving. Everything felt slow and out of sync. As the hallway blurred past us, the last thing I saw was a family portrait. My own eyes stared back at me—warning me, cautioning me that one day this would all be over because every fairy tale must end eventually.
~Liv~
The phone rang for the tenth time that morning, and I threw it across the room. After the ninth unanswered call, shouldn’t people start to understand that I didn’t want to talk—ever?
I was the therapist, not them.
I’d sort through my own shit—eventually.
It just wouldn’t be today or tomorrow…perhaps not even this millennium.
Someday, I’d muddle through it all. I’d be fine.
I was a survivor.
I didn’t remember much of what had happened after my dad shattered my heart with that single conversation I’d overheard.
I vaguely recalled Jackson escorting us away and helping me into the car. After arriving at his house, he’d tucked me into his bed and held me until we had both fallen asleep. When I’d woken up and tiptoed out, I’d hated myself a little more every time a floorboard creaked beneath my feet. I’d run across the lawns separating our houses, back to my own house, and I hadn’t been back since. That had been nearly two days ago.
Why was I shutting him out?
I had no idea. Why do any of us do the stupid things we do when we are angry and upset? All I knew was, I was devastated.
Therefore, my entire life must be devastating, right?
It seemed logical to me.
While consuming the double fudge with nuts ice cream at nine o’clock in the morning, I tried not to think of the patients I was letting down once again by calling in sick. For two days now, I’d disrupted their days, messed with their schedules, and dishonored their trust.
I was a failure.
A loud bang sounded at my door, startling me so much that I almost dropped the nearly empty pint on the floor. I turned to find Jackson barging through it.
“Space—I’ve given it. Now, we talk.”
“What?”
“The first rule I have is to always give you space when you seem to need it. I never want you to feel smothered, so when you disappear on me in the middle of the night, I take that as a cue. But it’s been long enough, Liv. Twenty-four hours should be enough time for you to figure out some shit. If not, we’ll do it together. I’m about to go apeshit from sitting over there, waiting for you to give the all-clear.”
“You didn’t go to work?” I set the ice cream container down on the coffee table.
“No. Of course, I didn’t. Do you think I would just leave you and go to work?”
I shrugged.
“You do. Jesus, Liv. Why haven’t you answered any phone calls?” He began pacing in front of me.
“I didn’t feel like talking,” I answered.
“What are you so damn afraid of?” he bellowed, his hands going through his sandy brown hair in frustration.
“Nothing!” I answered back. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
“That’s a damn lie.”
I jutted out my chin and angrily crossed my arms over my chest as I tried to keep the tears at bay.
“Goddamn it, Liv! When are you going to realize that no matter what those two people do to you, it has no bearing on you or the life you’ve created here?”
“I know—”
“No, you don’t. This place,” he said, gesturing with his hands, “your friends, Noah…me—we are your home and your family, Liv. Nothing else matters. We love you—not for the person you could be, but for the person you are. Stop wishing for a family you don’t have, and look around, sweetheart. We’re right here.”
A single tear escaped as I gazed up at him in wonder. How could one person manage to know me better than myself?
“You want to be my family?” I asked, tears racing down my cheeks.
He stepped forward, kneeling in front of me, and I caught a glimpse of his toothy grin.
“Try to stop me.”
“I’m so sorry,” I cried.
“Hey,” he soothed. “Nothing else matters, okay? What happened the other day is behind us. I know they hurt you. I wish more than anything I could take back that afternoon and give you something better in its place, but I can’t. All we can do is move forward and make the best of what we have together.”
“Can we go get a milkshake?” I asked, my voice still hoarse from crying.
“Sure, sweetheart. But can I ask a favor?”
“Yeah.” I smiled.
“Go take a shower. You smell.”
I threw a pillow in his face for that one.
~Jackson~
The Reid house was quiet Tuesday morning as we prepared for the long day ahead. While I sat at the foot of my bed and stared at the wall, I listened to Noah as he stumbled around his room, his half-hearted, half asleep attempt at getting ready for another day of middle school.
Clunky footsteps grew louder until Noah was standing in my doorway. His mouth was full of toothpaste foam as he absently brushed back and forth, looking at me curiously.
“You going to work today?” he managed to say between the bubbles.
I nodded, rising from my spot on the bed. Taking a deep breath, I made my way to the closet and began the process of pulling out my clothes for the day. It was something I’d done for months, years actually, but today was different. Today, as I slipped my suit on, it felt liked a marked occasion for something big.
I heard Noah walking back to the hall bathroom as I pulled up my slacks and tucked in my shirt. The blue tie went around my neck like a noose, tight and snug, underneath the tailored black jacket.
Finishing up, I hurried down the stairs to prepare breakfast. Noah was already pulling out a bowl for cereal, and rummaging around in the pantry.
“Liv brought over that healthy crap you like,” I commented, pointing to the left.
He immediately went and grabbed the tan-and-brown box with the weird name and pictures of wheat fields on the back,
“It’s good. You should try it,” he said, dumping a huge mound of the flaky stuff into a bowl.
“Not until she has a steak.” I grinned.
“You’re crazy.”
“Yep.”
Since no one else was enjoying them, I poured Froot Loops into a large bowl for myself and dug in. I felt like the worst kind of role model as I watched my son eat a bunch of fruit and grains w
hile I stuffed children’s cereal into my mouth.
I shrugged.
I didn’t care. Froot Loops were the bomb.
Besides, I had a shitload of other things to worry about besides my breakfast choice at the moment.
I watched my son as I finished my cereal. For years, it had just been him and me against the world. Every action and every decision in my life had revolved around this little guy. When Liv had walked into our world, our circle had grown just a bit larger. Suddenly, those decisions that had seemed so easy to make before were ten times harder. Now, there were two people in my life who mattered.
How did I make the right choices when I had two lives to consider?
I stared at him, waiting for an answer that didn’t come, and I hoped that what I was about to do today would be the right decision—for all of us.
“You can’t do this to me, Jackson,” Mark begged, rising from his desk. His eyes were wide with shock and surprise.
I’d just dropped the mother of bombs.
“It’s already done,” I said, holding up my resignation letter.
“If you want more pay, consider it done.”
“It’s not about my salary, Mark. I just need to move on,” I tried to explain.
“You just fucking got here!” he yelled, his hands flying up in frustration. “You haven’t even given us three months. What am I supposed to tell the Senator? He’s going to think something is going on internally.”
“You won’t need to explain anything, Mark,” I assured him.
“I seriously doubt that.” He slumped back in his chair, every bit the defeated man he appeared to be.
Silence settled around us as I watched my boss from across the room.
“I’m in love with his daughter,” I finally confessed.
“Say what now?” he asked, his eyes flying up to mine.
“Olivia Prescott is my girlfriend. We’ve been dating for months.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
I just stared at him.
“Holy shit. Why didn’t you say anything? We could have probably bagged this account from the start!”
I cocked my head to the side, the unpleasant mood written all over my face.
