Once Kayla leaves and a nurse checks my IV and stomach again I’m happy to be feeling a little better. I'm going back to the hotel soon 4 1/2 blocks from Z and Mackenzie where I'll be close enough to always sense them, but far enough away to never see them. And that's okay.
Truly.
I know my life isn't meant to be happy, but I also know theirs is. And they should be happy. Z is an amazing person who deserves happiness, and Mackenzie will always know happiness and stability with him. They are meant for each other, and I'm okay with my place on the outside now because its where I’ve always belonged and where I’m most comfortable being anyway.
Experiencing moments of happiness in my life has never benefitted me long term, and I don't want to feel them anymore.
I'm Suzanne. And though maybe not her anymore, I'm not much more than the sad her of before and I’m slowly becoming okay with that.
➰➰➰➰➰
Entering my hotel room with Kayla a few hours later, I’m exhausted.
"I don't want to go, Suzanne. I want to stay for the night," Kayla lies.
"You've been an amazing friend today, but please go home.”
"You're no trouble, Suzanne," she says seriously, but I laugh anyway.
"Said NO ONE ever. All I am is trouble Kayla," I grin. "But I need my own space. And I have to learn how to deal with all this by myself now."
"Tomorrow? Maybe I’ll come back for dinner and we’ll invite Kayla," she says softly but the effect is the same as a scream. Fear and sadness settle in deep thinking of New York Kayla. I don't want to end my relationship with Kayla completely, so avoiding her at all costs feels like the only way I can ignore our friendship's official end.
"I'm supposed to ask you if you want to deal with all the gifts and cards, or if you want Z to?"
"I can do it. Just tell him to send them over. It’s not like I have anything else to do," I smile but she doesn't play along.
"Will you talk to Z? He misses you, Suzanne."
"I will... Just not yet. I can't right now, Kayla. I need to be okay with not being together with Z anymore before I can be okay with being casual acquaintances with him at this point. Plus you’ll give me Mackenzie updates which I’ll love." And cry over, I don't add. "Bye, baby," I say like she does but not half as sexy or as flirty as she pulls off.
Once I close the door on Kayla I know what I want to do, but I'll eat instead. I found out that Z rented me this suite with a full fridge and little kitchenette on purpose so I would eat. And though I forgot to eat this weekend, I won't do that again.
Tidying up quickly, I make my way back down to the little deli mart half a block away to grab some food for my temporary home, and I'm kind of impressed with myself.
I'm sane, relatively normal looking, and as functional as I need to be. I'm also ridiculously calm for walking into a store by myself with my hideous face showing.
Smiling, I remember Mack always talking baby-steps. I remember even I used the term 'baby-steps' before. Though it's been quite a while for me, I seem to have picked up where I was before.
Walking into the Deli-Mart alone is my first baby-step since I lost everything. It's also the first baby-step I have to make to handle everything.
And I will.
➰➰➰➰➰
Grabbing my new phone without thinking, "Hello?"
"Hi." Oh no… Why is he calling me now? Unless...
"Is Mackenzie okay?" I cry out bracing for the worst.
"She's fine, Suzanne. Don't panic. She's sleeping beside me," he says softly as I exhale.
"Then why are you calling?" Oops. That sounded way ruder than I meant.
Waiting for a silent eternity, Z finally says simply, “I called to talk to you.” Why sounds a little pathetic so I keep quiet. “I heard you were in the hospital yesterday because your incision was infected," he says sounding concerned, but at least it explains why he called me. "Are you still there?" He asks with his smile-voice making me want to cry.
"I'm here, and I’m fine. Are you okay?"
"Yes. Why did you answer this time?"
"I thought it was Kayla." Oh, ooops. Barking a quick laugh Z doesn't seem offended by what I accidentally said.
"Understood."
"Do you need something, Z?"
"No. I just wanted to talk to you, and Mackenzie is snuggled up beside me on the couch in her almost perfectly knitted baby blanket," he says again smiling I can hear. "So I wanted to call to let you know it's her favorite blanket."
"It is?" I grin happily until reality returns. "Um, are you teasing me? Because she's only 7 days old and it's not like she has a preference for anything at this point, so there's no way to know that, Z." Feeling irritated by his stupid joke, I shut down a little.
"I'm not teasing you. At all actually. She's a really calm baby overall. But when she is crying and I wrap her in your blanket she always settles immediately. It's like a trick I've figured out since yesterday," he says proudly.
Sitting on the couch I'm starting to believe him, and I have to know, "What else have you figured out?"
"Baby poop is disgusting," he groans as I laugh. "No, Suzanne, like really disgusting. Almost like wet Dijon mustard, and it gets everywhere if you don't get the diaper just right I learned the hard way. Incidentally, the throw blanket you love at the end of our bed is mustard poo-stained for life," he laughs. "I even had it under my thumb nail last night," Z groans making me laugh harder.
"Same thing for me with Matthew. When he was first born, I was stunned by the Dijon mustard, and so messed up scrubbing my hands when it got under my nails once. Even though I knew my hand was clean, I couldn't eat with my right hand for like a week," I laugh again remembering that day of poo. "Kayla thought I was hysterical when I used an SOS pad on my fingers."
"I used bathroom cleanser on my thumb," he adds as I smile.
"What's she like? I mean Kayla has given me updates, almost hourly, but what's she really like, Z?" Practically holding my breath, I know he's going to say the most perfect Z-ism ever and I'm dying to know but dreading hearing it as well.
"Ah, she's really boring actually." WHAT?! That was NOT a Z-ism, or what I ever expected him to say.
"Boring?"
"Yeah. Drink, poo, sleep. That's all there is to her. And to be honest I can't wait to have a little hockey player one day, because right now she's really boring to be around," he says seriously until I realize there is absolutely no way he is.
"Are you messing with me?"
"Yes..." He says again with his smile-voice and my relief is loud and long as I exhale. "Did you actually believe me for a second there?"
"Well, you sounded so serious and they kind of are boring when they're that new, so I thought maybe for a second. But I hoped not."
"Very not. She's just so sweet, Suzanne. Like always wrapped in my arms or on my chest or beside me. And I can make her fall asleep by just touching her little forehead with my thumb."
Moaning a little, I realize this is getting to dangerous territory suddenly. I feel the pain growing, and I know missing her is going to be an agony I won't be able to hide much longer from Z. The loneliness is going to start swallowing me up inside again, and I can't hold on much longer.
"I'm sorry," Z whispers. "I wasn't trying to be insensitive. I just wanted to talk about her to you so maybe you didn't miss her so much, and so maybe I didn't miss talking to you so much," he says again so sadly I'm at the absolute end of my calm.
It’s time to hang up now before he hears me lose it.
"Thank you for telling me about her, Z. But I, ah, have to go out now."
"Where?" Shit, I've got nothing. "Why are you hanging up? Just tell me," he pushes before I start to cry harder. Ugh. "Why, Suzanne?"
Holding in the upset, I try to explain so he’ll leave it alone. "Because thinking of you hurts and thinking of Mackenzie hurts worse. And I'm trying to be strong right now, but you're making me almost cry. And I can't keep crying all day, every day Z if I'm go
ing to learn to live without you both. Okay?"
"I'm still working on getting everything resolved Suzanne. I haven't stopped and I won’t stop until you're in her life again." Wow, I heard that one clearly. Her life, not his.
"Okay. Thank you. But I have to go, Z. Good night. Be safe, okay?"
"Why wouldn't I be safe?"
"I don't know. Nothing really feels safe anymore, does it?"
"Suzanne-"
"Good night, Z."
Hanging up, I just stand when the sobbing starts. Walking to my make-shift bedroom, I'm swamped by exhaustion and swallowed by pain. Collapsing on my bed to sleep, I miss them so much I feel nothing but a heart-breaking loss so deep it should’ve actually killed me by now.
CHAPTER 36
Opening the door, the delivery man hands me the huge box I was expecting, and after tipping him for taking the box to the table and locking the door behind him I’m ready. I also know this will be brutal but I need to do something today.
After sleeping for almost a straight 9 hours last night, I can't stop picturing Z holding Mackenzie on his chest. I picture it so clearly it makes me smile and cry. I see his dark smooth chest, and her tiny little sweetness lying flat on his heart and the image is so beautiful, I almost hate it.
Thinking of them together like that doesn't make me feel good, and it doesn't make me feel calm. It makes me enraged that I'm missing everything. Because of my horrific past and my disgusting reactions to it, I am missing everything with the 2 people I love most in the world, and I'm so angry I could scream or punch something, though I don't. I hold in the anger until it changes back to the more manageable sadness I spend my days consumed with.
Tearing open the box, it's filled with way more cards than I remembered, and certainly more than I imagined. God, Z is so popular, because these cards sure as hell aren't from my side of like 5 people who know or like me. Well, more like 2 people who still like me now.
Opening card after card, writing the sender's name for future thank you's or return cards should it be required, I suddenly gasp when I see her very distinctive handwriting on an envelope.
Looking perfectly generic almost like a card envelope from any gift shop anywhere, I drop it like it could poison me on contact. Holy SHIT! She sent me a card.
Shaking my head with the most incredulous huff ever, I pick it back up to see what she wrote. Slipping the boring, uninspired card of a little duck following the mother duck I assume, it says only 'Congratulations on the birth of your little duckling', and honest to Christ I burst out laughing.
This is so not her, and so not her style, and holy shit this must've pained her so badly to purchase I can almost picture her pinched face of disgust.
Opening the cheesy card, there is only one sentence in the middle.
Don't get used to it, because I'm not done yet.
Don’t get used to what?
Looking at her squiggly handwriting that she tried to unsquiggle a little, I remember tracing her name over and over again when I was little. I actually practiced this handwriting because I thought she'd like it if I wrote just like her.
Actually, I was just so desperate for her to like anything about me, I tried anything and everything all the time to get her approval. But it never worked, and she never stopped hating me.
Because I'm not done yet. With what? Torturing me? Abusing me? Yes you are, bitch!
Don't get used to it... To what? The money? My marriage? What shouldn't I get used to? Think like a psychotic bitch, Suzanne. Think like her. What shouldn't I get used to?
Oh. My. God. Like I can actually hear her voice sneering as she speaks to me, I understand.
Mackenzie...
Diving for the coffee table, I speed dial Z because there's no time to even think.
"Hi, how-"
"It was her that did it!" I scream.
"Suzanne, calm down. Who did what?"
"The cunt, Z!"
"At the hotel?" He yells snapping me back coherent. "What did she do!?" He yells again like he can't understand what I'm saying.
"I just opened a ridiculous card from her and she wrote 'Don't get used to it, because I'm not done yet.' Get it? Don't get used to the baby because she's not done yet?"
"Ah, maybe-"
"No. Listen to me, Z. I'm sure of this. I know her, and this is just like her to give a veiled threat. A threat that doesn't mean anything to anyone but the receiver."
"But she said don't get used to it, like a something, Suzanne, not your baby," he tries to reason with me.
"I know it looks like that. And that's actually what I thought first, like the money, or my marriage, or some kind of thing. The ‘it’ confused me until I realized she meant the baby was the it."
"How do you know?" Z asks now with more suspicion and less disbelief in his voice.
"Um, she used to call me the It Z," I cry out quickly as my dark childhood memories flood my mind. "It used to sit quietly at the dinner table with her measured food, ignored and hated while It's 2 parents talked and laughed and pretended It wasn’t there."
"Suzanne, I need you to breathe slowly, love. You don't need to think about that anymore. You're not It, and you’ve never been It to me."
Shaking, Z's sad voice through the phone is enough to get me out of my head. I hate when he sounds sad like that. "I'm okay, Z. Please don't be sad. I was just trying to explain the It to you. But there's more."
"Are you okay?" He whispers and I love him. So much. So deeply. I hold in the upset to make everything right- or at least righter.
“I'm fine,” I pause for a second to clear my head again. “When did these cards arrive?"
"I think that box was right from the hospital."
"Were any couriered? Like in an outside envelope?"
"Some, yes."
"Okay. Well, this envelope has no post mark and it looks totally pristine and unopened, but I knew her handwriting immediately. I used to want her to like me so I tried to be like her in any way I could so she didn't hurt me." When I hear Z moan again, I try to stop my train of thoughts from going back to my past. Kind of. "Never mind about that." Shit, head in the game, Suzanne. "Anyway, if this card came from Chicago when I was in the hospital, then she would've sent it for the due date without knowing what I had at the time. That's why it was an It and not a him or her. Well that, and she's a psycho who still likes to remind me of all the bad stuff whenever she can," I laugh-cry quickly. Ugh. Focus! "People knew the date of my C-Section, right?"
"Yes," he says with his quiet anger. "Someone reported it after finding out at the hospital while snooping for a story. Stinson read it and let me know a few months ago," Z exhales and I swear I hear him actually shaking his head.
Wiping away those annoying tears that only fall from your eyes when you're frustrated or totally pissed, I try to explain what I'm thinking.
"So she didn't know what I was having when it was sent but she did know my due date was December 4th, and somehow she got a card couriered to us on my due date or within a day or two of it, right?" I cry sounding a little hysterical the more I speak. Shit.
"Fuck..." he snaps thinking.
"No! Fuck me. I-"
"Maybe later, love. Try to focus, okay?" Z suddenly interrupts my growing anxiety and as his words sink in I burst out laughing. Like a crazy laugh which just about rips my stomach back open, but it feels so good to suddenly laugh I don't care about the collateral damage.
Winding down, I can still hear his smile-voice when he asks, "Can you be sure it was from her?"
"A thousand percent. Her writing is super squiggly and almost beautifully old fashioned. I know it's her writing, Z. And the judge-"
"The judge!" Z yells when he sees what I'm seeing. "That fuckhead put through the order late in the day when I couldn't get to court to either stop it or delay it- just like Mack said."
"And the anonymous phone call saying I hurt Mackenzie-"
"Could've come from anywhere anonymously. And from what I've learned
an emergency removal with a police escort isn't common practice unless there is a medical report to substantiate the investigation and immediate danger or abuse to the child, or even a police witness to the abuse. Usually, there is if not a 2 visit investigation, there is at least something physical backing up the court's decision for an emergency removal of the child."
"Just like Mack said," I agree. "So I think the judge is the key here. The first judge when Mackenzie was born."
"Who was also the judge who delayed me over the weekend."
"He was?"
"Yes. Which my lawyers couldn't understand either. As a prominent New York City business man and a well-known Philanthropist," Z says and I know he's smirking at the famous description of himself he hates, "Our lawyers couldn't understand how I was not only be denied custody of my own daughter, but pushed from the emergency hearing that was actually set up by Child Protective Services themselves to have this quickly settled. Even Hillary Mason attempted to have this rectified quickly when she saw no abuse to Mackenzie and after she spoke to the hospital staff the next day when you were still there. She wrote on record her findings of no abuse, and supplied Mack and Kayla's witness accounts and affidavits the day after that," he exhales like he's both angry and exhausted. "She believed you, Suzanne, she told my lawyer Brandon off the record." Oh.
Shaking my head a little, the anxiety and strangeness of our situation has exhausted me. Thinking of what to do or say, I'm hit with the obvious so quickly I gasp my answer. "So find out how she knew him. Find out how much money she paid the judge, or how she knew him."
"Oh, I will."
"You have to be careful, Z."
"Really?" He asks not quite angrily, but more irritated that I think he would be careless.
"Not like that. I assume Mackenzie is protected?" I whisper words I hoped I'd never have to ask.
"Very," he exhales slowly.
"Thank you." God, that hurts thinking Mackenzie could ever be in physical trouble because of me. "Okay, here's what I'm thinking. You have lots of money and influence, but it was still hard for you to get her back or even to stop all this insanity from happening, right?"
We are US... (I am HER... Book 3) Page 43
