After she leaves, I pour myself a shot of Patron and then chase it with a lowball of Jack. I need to take the edge off if I'm going to read this letter. I have no idea what it's going to say, but my mother never had a great way with words. I'm sure it's not going to be filled with heart-felt sentiments. She's incapable of that. Whatever it says though, I'll deal with it. I'm a big boy.
♥ ♥ ♥
Dear Roman,
If you're reading this letter it means that, that son of a bitch Joe is getting soft, or I'm dead. I'm writing this letter as a part of my amends to you. My sponsor suggested that I write it. She's a bitch on wheels, but she's successfully sponsored like fifteen people who are still clean, so I'm sticking with her.
I'm sure you're wondering why I didn't call or visit with an apology for fucking up your life, but the truth is that I'm not ready to face you. Not when I'm still working stuff out. Not when I know that Joe gave you everything that I couldn't. It would just make me feel entirely too shitty if I faced you now. And when I feel shitty, I get high. It's one of my patterns.
So I'm just going to tell you all the things that I'm sorry for here in this letter. In fact, there's something that I've wanted to tell you for a long time now. Actually there are a few things. The first thing is that while it isn't an excuse, there is an explanation for my behavior. I have a dual diagnosis of bipolar disorder and narcotic addiction. That's what my doctor said.
In other words, I am a very sick woman, and I always have been. No one was able to help me up until now. For a long time no one knew that I had this thing wrong with me. This defect. I'm sure you already know all of this by now, but I just wanted to make sure you understood it. I didn't choose to be such a mess. I was genetically cursed with it. You may want look it up one day in case you have kids or something.
Second thing is if you are angry with me. Stop it. Being angry with me will only make your life a living hell. I know because I was angry with my own mother for so long. I still am. But I'm working everyday to try and stop being so mad, so that I can be better and maybe one day be better to you.
The last thing is the hardest thing I've ever had to say. To admit. I haven't been truthful with you and this might make the second thing I told you to do (stop being angry) a lot harder, but here it goes. Joe is not your biological father. Before you ask, I do know who it is, but he's dead, so it doesn't make much sense to look for him or his family. I wouldn't even begin to know where to tell you to start anyway. He wasn't really important to me. He was just a guy.
Joe was everything to me back then. I felt like I was drowning. I was up, then I was down. Because of my mood swings, I couldn't keep a job and I didn't understand why. I couldn't keep a man interested in me for long unless I gave them sex. The only guy in the neighborhood who treated me like a person with feelings was Joe. He was nice. He was my friend.
When I found out I was pregnant, I panicked. I didn't know how the hell I was going to support a child. I didn't even have the money to get an abortion. Your real father acted like he didn't have it or couldn't get it. So I admit that I thought Joe was my ticket.
I made sure to sleep with him once, and then I made him think that he was the father. I had fooled myself into believing that once I did, he would all of a sudden want to be with me. Want to marry me. And raise you together. But that wasn't reality. And when reality bit me in the ass, I wasn't prepared, and I tumbled really low for a really long time. You saw a lot of my low and I'm sorry for that too.
I never said anything to him, because he took care of you. He sent money and he'd send you a birthday gift every year. That's more than my father ever did for me. More than your real father was ever going to do.
So there you go. All my sins. All my regrets. I hope you can find some peace in what I've written. It felt kind of good to write it. Now I just have to get the guts to send it. Which if you're reading this right now, means I must have grown a pair and did the right thing.
I live in Nevada now with a real nice man who treats me well. He's a postal worker and is set to retire in a few years. If I can stay clean, we're going to get married and I'll invite you to the wedding. I may have never said it much, but I do love you, Roman. You're my son and nothing will ever change that.
Be Happy,
Your Mother
♥ ♥ ♥
I'm not a feely, touchy type of man. I don't think it's part of my genetic make up; I'd be lying if I didn't admit that my mother's letter has rocked me to the core.
Even if she's off the pills and the booze, it is painfully obvious that she is still obsessed with only how she feels every fucking minute of the day. As if her feelings are the only ones that matter.
While the tone of the letter is somewhat apologetic, it's more narcissistic and self-serving than anything. Especially that bomb she dropped at the end. The old man isn't my father? And what the fuck does she think I'm supposed to do with that revelation at this point in my life. He's been my father for most of my life. The only one I've known. Like it or not, he's been there. She hasn't.
Have I judged him too harshly? Is it possible that the old man has known my entire life that he isn't my real father and raised me anyway? What about that whole confession speech he made about not wanting me but choosing to take care of his responsibilities. Has my mother actually pulled one over on him all of this time? It's hard to believe. One thing Joseph isn't is stupid. If my mother was just a one-night stand for him, or even a casual fling, I can't imagine that he wouldn't have made sure that I was his kid.
Damn, she's a bitch.
I haven't seen or heard from my mother in years and she still is incapable of giving me what I need. The only thing I've ever really wanted from her.
Closure.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ELIZABETH
There's nothing sexy about Spanx. I mean let's be honest. They do everything they can to resist being pulled on the human body. It's almost as if they are fighting back the soft and squishy curves of a woman. And let's be real. No man has ever gotten a hard-on looking at a woman's stomach, thighs, and butt encased in a pair of flesh colored, high waisted, spandex shorts. Looking very much like a raw sausage link. Definitely not sexy.
And then there's the fact that most women need to create an entire ritual to get the things on and off. I include myself among that lot. In fact, I've created a simple protocol for putting on these magical pieces of stretchy fabric, which I'm fine-tuning tonight. I'm attempting to get these suckers on by slathering my favorite Jasmine scented body butter all over my thighs to provide a bit more slip, and then wiggling them on while dancing to some sickeningly empowering Meghan Trainor song. Another song about how big and beautiful she is. Seems like an ironic song selection, since I'm trying to make myself appear ten pounds lighter.
The goal is that after I slide into the Spanx (and I think my system is working), that I'm going to hopefully glide right into my new, one-size-too-small gold dress; which I purchased for an autism fundraising gala that I'm attending tonight. Juliette is on the planning committee for the event and invited practically the entire city of Philadelphia. Including Roman.
Although we've exchanged several polite chat messages and had three brief phone calls, I haven't actually seen Roman in almost two weeks. I feel like my insides are drying up and not just from the obvious lack of sex, but from way more than that.
I miss his touch. The way his eyes rake across my body whenever he sees me. I miss our late night phone calls. The fun, flirty ones. Not the few we've had lately where all he asks me is if I'm okay, and if I need anything. I know I'm the one who actually requested that we take a little time apart, but I'm seriously starting to regret it.
I'm nervous because both Roman and Jade are going to be at the gala tonight, and I'm way past Jade's forty-eight-hour deadline for telling Roman about the email. He hasn't said anything to me about it yet, so I know that she hasn't spilled the beans yet. But I know she's not going to hold out for long.
Whi
le I seriously considered faking the flu to get out of going tonight, Juliette would have been crushed. She worked really hard on this event and is very excited for everyone she loves to experience it with her. I can't let my drama get in the way of my aunt's big night.
I hear a light knock at my front door, and I know already that it's Sloan. Juliette was kind enough to extend the invitation to her as well, so we've decided to meet up and ride together. We'll take an Uber car tonight, so that we both can drink. It's open bar and neither of us wanted to pass up free top shelf liquor.
"You're early, and you're not dressed." I notice as I open the door for Sloan.
"Obviously because I'm getting dressed here, silly. I wasn't going to ride over here in my brand new Givenchy gown. Plus I still need to finish my make up for Christ's sake."
"You bought a Givenchy dress for tonight? Uh, we aren't getting ready for the senior prom or my wedding," I comment snidely as she walks in rolling a small suitcase behind her. I bought my dress for one hundred and twenty-five bucks at TJ Maxx. I've never even heard of the designer.
"Bitchy much? What crawled up your ass?"
"I'm just a little nervous I guess."
"About what?"
"I've never been to a formal event like this."
"What are you talking about? All it is, is a party with better food and drinks."
"And Roman."
"Are you two still on a time out? What the hell is he still angry about? Because you didn't want the Viking guy to hear you in the throes of passion? Honestly, I don't see why you bother with the Dark Knight. Oh wait, scratch that, I know why you bother. He must be banging the hell out of you."
"You're so vulgar."
Sloan laughs out loud, "I know."
"We're not arguing. We're just on a time out. At least we won't have to deal with any awkward introductions tonight."
"What awkward introductions? What are you talking about?"
"A lot of Juliette's friends are going to be there tonight. People she serves on boards with. So I was a little concerned about how she would have to introduce us to them. As her niece and stepson? Or as her stepson and his girlfriend? I mean there are a variety of ways she could go about it, and none of them seemed like a good look for me."
"Yeah, especially when they see his hand on your ass all night," she smirks.
"You're not helping."
"It's a moot point anyway. You guys won't be up under each other tonight. I won't allow it. You're my date tonight. So don't get all stressed. When you stress, you start sweating, and then you'll frizz up that perfectly flat ironed hair of yours."
"Actually I probably already broke a sweat trying to get these damn Spanx on."
"I say let all of your jelly jiggle. That's what I do," Sloan chuckles. "I'm going totally commando under my gown. It's not healthy that you're squishing all of your internal organs together like that in that thing. I talk to a lot of doctors in my work, and they all agree that corsets, girdles, or any other sort of medieval waist training device are all completely unhealthy for the female body."
"You work with doctors that write prescriptions for Viagra everyday. None of them even work with women, Sloan."
"That's not the point. They're doctors! They studied the human body for like a million years," she argues.
"This is all easy for you to say. You are some sort of genetic freak. You don't jiggle, and you'll never have to worry about jiggling. Both of your parents look ten years younger than they really are, so chances are that you'll still end up looking like a supermodel when you're a hundred years old."
"Feed me Seymour," she eggs me on with a pretty lame Little Shop Of Horrors reference. "Tell me more about my superior genetic code."
"Oh forget it," I laugh. "Let's just finish getting ready."
"I can't wait to see how the Dark Knight acts tonight. Will he act civil and make idle chitchat with you, will he cry about how much he misses you and follow you around like a puppy all night, or will he throw you a cold glare and smack your ass when you walk by."
"Be quiet."
Honestly I'm not sure what to expect from Roman tonight myself, but my plan is that he takes a look at me in this dress and drags me home by my hair, because he can't wait to get his hands all over me. That would be the ideal scenario.
"There's no way that wildebeest will be able to keep his distance from you tonight. I can't even believe I agreed to go with you to this thing. I'm going to be a third wheel once again," she gripes.
"Third wheel." I grin. "Who said you're a third wheel? Juliette told me that both Kings were invited too. I'm sure they'll be there with Roman."
"I can get my own dates thank you very much. I just didn't think it was appropriate for me to ask anyone, because your aunt invited me. Not me and a plus one. From what I've heard, this event has been sold out for at least a month."
"Oh calm down. It's just one of the King brothers. It's not like it's a real date."
"Ugh," she complains. "Don't get me wrong, those Kings are totally hot, and I don't mind flirting with them on occasion, but you know very well they're not my type. Especially that loud one who thinks he's hot shit. There's not enough time in the world to teach that thug enough social graces to make the evening bearable."
"Well maybe it's a good thing that one of them come. I don't know what tonight's going to be like, and I don't want you sitting alone while Juliette drags me around working the room or something."
"Really?! I'm the bitch who taught you how to work a room thank you very much. I will never be sitting alone in a room full of men. Especially men with money. You know I speak their language, and of course it doesn't hurt that they all find me extra interesting, because I'm so exotic looking," she grins.
"Whatever, crazy. You're just going to have to make the best of it if one of the Kings shows up. They're Roman's best friends and you're mine. You're going to have to get used to them sooner or later."
"Do I really?"
"Stop being a snob."
She slams her foundation brush down on the counter.
"Oh, guess what I forgot to tell you!"
"What?"
"Another one bites the dust. The guy I met at the bar when we went out for my promotion, just texted me to say that he was in a committed relationship."
"Wow."
"Like he didn't know that shit when he was salivating over my boobs all night. Something really weird is in the air, Bitsy. If I can't make something happen tonight, in this dress, with no panties on? Then I fucking quit."
♥ ♥ ♥
The gala is way more amazing than I thought it would be. In fact it's almost magical. No wonder wealthy people are so happy, if they party like this all of the time.
Juliette's planning committee thought of every detail, and I can definitely see my aunt's touches reflected in the beauty of the room. The decorations throughout the event space are elaborate but modern. Long yards of soft, white fabric are draped strategically across the high ceilings. The lighting from the art deco chandeliers bathes the room in a soft and romantic luminescent glow. She once told me that everyone looks five years younger in twilight. So this is definitely her handiwork.
There are also pockets in the room where she has strategically positioned spotlights for press photo opportunities. There's lots of media here, and I notice that my aunt takes a great interest in bringing the right people together in those areas.
So far I've watched from a distance as she's connected two different local news anchors with several city politicians, she has the founder of the sponsoring autism organization posing and shaking hands with the mayor, as well as a professional football player holding up a picture of a child to the cameras. I think I read somewhere that the guy is a popular offensive lineman for the Eagles, and his child is on the autism spectrum.
Watching my aunt in her element has been awe inspiring, and I realize without a doubt that while she's a socialite force to be reckoned with, she would have made an even more amazing law
yer. She definitely commands a room with her presence. Not to mention that Uncle Joseph does as well in his tailored suit. When he's by her side they are by far the most formidable couple in the room. A power couple. Neither of them overshadowing the other, but both truly working the room in tandem.
There are three balcony-like levels to the totally open event space which allows you to peek down to the first level where the stage is set to showcase two very different local bands. And don't get me started on the food. The food is amazeballs! There are buffet stations on each floor. Each one featuring a different cuisine with servers ready to help fill your plate. One station is serving homemade mini pizzas. Another offers the biggest array of fresh sushi I've ever seen. Then there's a different station offering you your choice of a Philadelphia favorite, hot crab fries or sweet potato fries served in paper cones.
I'm breaking all kinds of carb rules tonight. Well I'm trying to, but these damn Spanx aren't cooperating. The more I eat, the more they continue to roll down over my pouch. I'm literally ten seconds away from shimmying out of these things in the bathroom and stuffing them in my purse.
My aunt has been so busy tonight, that she really hasn't had time to introduce me to anyone. I totally understand it. Hey, I'm just glad to be here. And then there's Roman. I thought he'd try to stick close to me because we haven't seen each other in so long, especially once he saw me in this dress, but I called this one completely wrong. He's still keeping his distance.
"You look beautiful, Elizabeth." Was his simple greeting to me after giving me a soft peck on the cheek.
"Thanks." Was all I could manage to squeak out in response. Stunned by his aloofness. Crushed that he hasn't seemed to have missed me the way I miss him. The way I crave him, cried over him. Do either of us even remember what we're fighting about?
Evidently Roman knows quite a few major players in the city, and he has been making polite conversation all night with many of them while avoiding any meaningful conversation with me. Several look like familiar, local politicians that I've seen on television. If I had to guess, a few of the other men he's talking to give me the impression that they're lawyers.
The Cousins Series Boxed Set Page 51
