Learning to Let Go

by Cynthia P. O'Neill

  “I did cause my aunt’s death. For sure.” I couldn’t look up at her to see what emotions passed over her face; I only heard the sharp intake of air.

  “How could you be?” she protested. “You were so young…”

  “It was stupidity on my part that I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life.” I finally glanced up seeing her face full of confusion. “I was a real handful for my aunt. I lashed out at everyone, both verbally and physically, sometimes violently, after my parents passed away. Then the night terrors started and I couldn’t be around anyone, but I also didn’t want to be alone.”

  Her voice was shaky, but soft. “Is that when you started seeing Jocelyn?”

  I nodded. “I was thankful that my aunt was a software designer and worked from home, so I didn’t have to watch her leave every day. She moved into my parents’ house, wanting to give me some stability. She watched over the insurance trust that my mom and dad left me and provided for us with her own earnings. Aunt Lydia moved heaven and earth to try and bring back some of my happiness. I hated how it was only us left. My mom’s parents had passed away right after she finished college, my dad’s mother when he was a teen, and his father when I was three. Mom was an only child and Lydia was my dad’s only sibling. It was always just us.”

  I turned my head away from her, taking sight of the sun shining brightly over the skyline, lighting up everything for the day ahead. The view was amazing, reminding me that life moves on, but internally I was stuck in the past and couldn’t let go of my guilt. If I continued on with my story, would Laurel think less of me?

  A gentle squeeze to my hand brought my focus back. “Please, go on,” she urged.

  “It’d been a little over a year since my parents’ accident. We’d managed to find our way back to a routine and even enjoyed some happy times together, Aunt Lydia and I. I’d been cooped up in the house with a cold and was starting to feel better when my aunt suggested we toss around my dad’s football in the front yard.” I smiled, remembering what fun that had been, but the next thoughts entering my mind made my whole body shudder. “I missed catching the ball and it rolled out into the street. I ran after it and froze as I saw a car coming at me. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Lydia came running at me, pushing me to the ground. I heard the screech of tires and felt someone pull me back onto the sidewalk. I watched as she lay in the street, bleeding, as the car sped away, leaving her there.”

  I dared to look up into Laurel’s eyes and found tears streaming down her face, her hands over her mouth in shock. “How could someone just leave her there and not care?” she asked angrily. “Did they catch the driver?”

  I shook my head. “No. They found the car a couple months later at a junk yard, compressed, missing the VIN and license plate and completely wiped clean of fingerprints. The only evidence they had was the dried blood they matched with her DNA, but it was too late by then.”

  She shook her head in amazement and spouted out “Unbelievable” under her breath.

  I couldn’t hold in my emotions any further. The hurt felt as fresh as it had years ago and tears began to slowly fill the corners of my eyes. My voice started to shake. “Harris, Dad, was one of her doctors; she had suffered a severe head injury as a result of the crash, along with losing an arm and part of a leg. A case worker sat with me while we waited to see if she’d pull through surgery. Olivia, Mom, dropped by to bring him a late lunch and knew the case worker. She started talking with both of us, offering me the warmth of her hugs. I didn’t know her, but I clung to her like my life depended on it.

  “I guess she felt for my situation, because she talked with Harris after the surgery and the next thing I knew, I was going home with them. They had offered to foster me until my aunt got better. Dad took me to the hospital to visit with her twice a day, suggesting that I tell her about my day and how much I missed her. She came out of the coma and started to mend and get better. It looked like she would actually be getting let go at the end of a couple of months, but she took a turn for the worst when her insurance denied her prosthetics and she reached her limit on the number of days she could stay in the hospital.”

  I had never known Laurel to be violent, but she threw her fisted hand down on the bed and cursed. “Why can’t healthcare have better insurance and policies to take care of the patients? We had to fight to get Grace a proper recovery from her accident, too.” She looked up at me, flushed and embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  I reached out, touching the side of her face, trying to gauge her feelings toward me, and she leaned into my embrace, giving me the strength I needed to go on. “Lydia sank into a deep depression and began meeting with Harris and Olivia in private. I didn’t realize until later that she’d asked them to adopt me, being unable to care for me herself. The only condition was to keep my last name as my middle name, so I’d know where my roots were. She tried to explain this to me and I didn’t want to listen. A few days later, she passed in her sleep.” My eyes fell toward the floor, not wanting to look up and see the disappointment I was sure was written on her face.

  “Garrett, look at me, please,” she begged. When I didn’t respond, she put both of her hands on my face and drew it up to her line of sight. “What happened to your aunt was a horrible accident. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” she insisted. “I’m sure if the situation were reversed, you’d push the child you cared about out of the street and take the hit, too. You’d already had your life shaken up, you were too young to know not to run into the street by yourself. The fault is actually on the driver.”

  Where the heck did she get that idea from? I know the driver should have stopped, but…

  “Are you listening to me?” She snapped her fingers in front of my face, drawing my attention back to her. “The driver was in a residential area. He should have been going a slow speed and had his car under control, expecting the potential of a child running into the street. At the very least, he should have stopped when he’d hit someone. From the injuries you’re describing, he had to have hit her going pretty damn fast. Her death is not because of you.” I’d never seen Laurel so worked up over something. She was right in my face, chest breathing hard and making me listen.

  I couldn’t take it anymore; the emotions and memories were more than I could handle. I pushed up off the bed, needing to get away from everything. I tried looking at Laurel, but found my gaze shift toward the floor. “I can’t discuss this anymore,” I said sternly. “I need to work and refocus on our contract negotiations for our potential meeting tonight.”

  Before Laurel could respond, the phone rang.

  “Garrett here.”

  “I’m just calling you back, Mr. Waters.” Charlotte’s voice seemed upbeat, giving me hope that our conference was still on.

  “Are we good to go at the Arena tonight?”

  “Yes, sir. Mr. Williamston, his son, and two of their design engineers will be picked up in your limo and escorted to your Presidential Suite by six this evening. Dinner will be served thirty minutes later and the game begins thirty minutes after that. Is there anything else you needed, sir?”

  “No, that’ll be all, thanks.”

  Laurel hadn’t moved from the bed and kept staring at me. I wanted to run over and pull her into my arms and just lose myself in that warm, inviting body of hers, but I needed space. My mind wasn’t in a good place and I was afraid I’d be too rough with her. I knew she’d begun to like our more playful encounters, but I didn’t want to scare her off. I did need some distance.

  “What are you waiting around for?” My voice cut out a sharp line and she startled on the bed, looking at me with frightened eyes. I knew I shouldn’t do this, but I needed to distance myself from her. “I need you to get moving,” I said as devoid of emotion as I could manage. “I want a final review of the designs on my desk by four today. Let me know if we’d be able to reproduce the design at a lower cost and still maintain the integrity of the unit.” I j
ust kept barking orders at her left and right. It didn’t feel right, but the busier I kept her, the less she would be able to think about what I had just revealed.

  I was about to issue another order when her voice cut through like a knife. “You asshole!” she screamed. “I finally get you to open up to me and try to be understanding to what’s going on in your mind and you’re back to talking about work?! You tell me I need to learn to let things go and move on—why can’t you take your own damn advice? You’re pushing me away and two can play at this game. I’ll be moving into the other bedroom as of tonight and out of your life as soon as I can.” She stood and marched into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

  I waited until I heard the water running to leave the room, but my heart wanted so badly to run into the shower with her when I heard her crying through the door. Why did I have to push everyone away? Why couldn’t I allow myself to just be happy for once, to take the chance that I had been pushing her to?

  My frustration and aggression levels were through the roof. If I didn’t release some of this soon, I was going to blow. I picked up the house phone to call Thompson. “I need to work out some pent up energy. Do you feel like sparring?”

  Thompson rarely held emotion in his voice, but I could tell he needed it, too. “Bring it, sir.”

  For the next two hours I went through the motions, tried to fend off Thompson, and learned some new moves from him in the process. I loved karate; it helped me refocus and release the anger within me. I was starting to feel at least a little calmer than I did this morning.

  At the end of our session, Thompson came up, placing a hand on my shoulder. “If I may be so bold, sir, why aren’t you willing to let down your guard for Ms. Hart? Living is all about taking risks and playing the game well. You’ve succeeded in your career, so now it’s time for you to take the same risk in your personal life.” He paused and cleared his throat. “It’s obvious you love her. You have a right to feel happiness and you bring out the best in her.”

  I started to argue this when he held his hand up in the air for me to stop, a move I’ve never seen him do before.

  “Don’t respond to it, sir, just think about what I’ve said.” He turned and left the room, leaving me in deep thought.

  Maybe he was right. I never allowed myself any happiness. Ever since my parents and Lydia passed away, I’d spent all my time trying to please others to gain everyone else’s approval and to make the medical world a better place. But did I, the person who may have caused their deaths, have the right to enjoy what they could not? Did I have a right to love?

  Glancing at the clock, I was relieved to see I didn’t have time to think about things anymore. I needed to give Jonathan a quick call to see if he could attend the meeting with us. He’d already written up a sales proposal of how our two companies would benefit greatly from their design, but his attitude and ability to persuade people would come in handy tonight in a personal capacity. I wasn’t sure I felt completely up to schmoozing, and Jonathan was a master.

  I needed to get moving and focus all my efforts on pulling off a miracle to win Williamston Technologies over. This could mean a big boost to the medical industry and a huge profit gain to WMI. The issue of Ms. Laurel Hart would have to wait until later.

  That asshole! Who does he think he is? I strip my heart bare on the table for him, even indulging in some of his wilder fantasies, which I have to admit make my body come alive, and how does he repay me? The son of a bitch up and pushes me back, holding me at arm’s length again. Well, two can play at this game. I’ll give him a taste of his own medicine; maybe a little distance will do him good.

  I had cried myself out in the shower, but found a new resolve, determined to give him a taste of his own medicine by playing his game and showing him what he could be denied. I was confident that I could win him back. I was relieved to find that he’d left his bedroom and that he hadn’t picked out an outfit for me to wear. I was so tired of him dressing me up like a damn Barbie doll. He would always try to reason with me, “I just like to see you wear certain things, especially the skirts and garters, where I can have easy access to you any time I want,” but it was bullshit. He just liked to be controlling, which was beginning to really piss me off! I didn’t mind the control in the bedroom, but outside of it…I WAS IN CHARGE OF MY OWN LIFE!

  The thought sent a shiver through my spine. Ever since I’d returned to work and was in the office next door, he took advantage of that easy access, closing and locking my office door, lifting my skirts and pressing me against the desk, wall, or any other surface he could think for us to christen. Work was definitely interesting, but tonight I’d wear what I wanted, and while the logical side of me told me to wear a suit dress, the wilder side decided on a seductive black lace push up bra and thong with a matching garter belt and nude silk stockings, a gray pencil skirt and a purple satin blouse with a hint of cleavage.

  To throw an extra fire to the flame I’d tease him with, I decided on wearing one of my favorite pairs of pumps, which he had added to my shoe collection for his private viewing only. They were black, stiletto, alligator-like leather with a playful gold handcuff around the ankle and a gold key that zipped up the back. I’d up the ante by putting my hair up into a loose twist and updo. It looked professional for the meeting, but he always insisted on me leaving my hair natural, letting it curl around my shoulders and down my back.

  I wore my usual jewelry, the necklace my parents had given me along with the diamond studs and the bracelet Garrett gave me for graduation. I would’ve rather worn a different bracelet, but ever since Chase attacked me the last time, Garrett had changed the design of the bracelet to be closed with a small diamond-encrusted miniature lock. I’d questioned why, but he claimed that the bracelet had popped off in the scuffle with Chase and the jeweler suggested the change to ensure it didn’t get lost again.

  I used the house phone to call downstairs to see where he was. I was thankful to learn he was working out in the room down the hall. I took my copy of the paperwork, my laptop, purse, and anything else I could think of, down to my special room and left him a note on his bedside table:

  Deidre caught me sneaking downstairs and asked if I’d like to have brunch, since I’d already missed breakfast. My emotions were on edge and I didn’t really feel like eating, but after some convincing, she offered a light fruit salad and some soup as an option.

  “Sure, that sounds amazing,” I relented. “I’ve got a lot of work to do, so just knock and leave it outside the door, please. Thanks.”

  I reviewed the plans from the Williamston group over and over again, feeling that I was missing something. They appeared sound and their prosthetic ankle was similar to the joint design I used for the wrist, but something was off. I kept pulling apart every piece of the design when I remembered they’d sent over a video of a couple of test subjects trying the prototype. One subject had been born without the lower portion of her ankle and foot, while the other suffered an accident in the military and had that portion of his leg blown off.

  I pulled up the video and watched carefully as they put the test subjects through vigorous tasks. They had to walk normally, applying full weight to the prosthetic, along with climbing up and down a small set of steps. The video opened with their first trial of the apparatus and advanced to several months down the road. The prosthetic itself held up, but I noticed a noise whenever the patient would put their full weight on the ankle joint.

  The afternoon passed quickly and I put together the findings of my report, confirming that the ankle prosthetic had merit and would be of benefit to the company. However, I listed some reservations that I’d like to discuss with the design team to get a better understanding of things.

  I refused to open the door to him or answer my phone when he called, insistent that I discuss my hesitance with him prior to the meeting. He hadn’t bothered to contact me in over five hours and a couple of phone calls and knocks at the door demanding I open up wouldn’t cu
t it; he could wait a little while longer.

  “Don’t think this won’t go against your review, Laurel,” he cajoled. “You don’t withhold information from me right before a meeting.” His voice was furious, screaming through the door.

  My temper flared and I couldn’t help firing back, “But apparently it’s okay for you to hold back information from me until you decide I’m worthy enough to know. You’ve kept me in the dark and you keep toying with my emotions like I’m a damn yo-yo. Well, I hope you’re happy getting a taste of your own medicine.”

  His fist landed hard on the door, nearly knocking it loose from the frame. “Don’t push me, Laurel!” The warning was evident in his voice, but what could he do, fire me? Push me out into the street? Hurt me anymore than he already had? I was tired of playing his games, having my emotions tossed around. As Grace’s father often said when faced with some overwhelming challenges, “Stick a fork in me. I’m done.”

  “I’ll push if I want!” I blasted back at the top of my lungs. “But I’m not the one calling the shots on this. I’ve already put in a couple of calls to their designers and they haven’t called me back. Something has been nagging at me regarding the design and I want to talk to them first before jumping to conclusions.”

  I heard him let out a loud sigh. “Fine. We’ll address it in the meeting tonight. Be ready to leave in one hour.”

  I was thankful to hear his footsteps retreat from the door. I took some notes on the location of the issues in the video so I could bring them back up for review in the meeting. Plus, I pulled up some research on what kinds of metals their company typically used in their designs. I wanted to have all the facts and ammunition I needed to argue my concerns and see why they were so reluctant to return my calls.

  There was nothing more for me to work on or contemplate, so my mind began to drift to the issues of being truthful with people. It made me realize that I had an important phone call that couldn’t be put off any longer. I knew my mother was done sleeping off the night shift at the hospital and my father was going in early for projects and should be home already. The time for waiting was over.