by K. L Randis
I nodded.
The silence was deafening, even over the roar of the ocean. The crunch of the particles of sand between his fists was all I could focus on. He stared at the waves hitting the shore before standing to his feet.
When I was finally able to look at him I could see the wheels turning, but he said nothing.
“Say something,” I demanded.
“There’s nothing for me to say,” he said, twisting the tip of his toe into the sand. He sighed, sucking his chest inward, then he turned and started to walk away. “I need to go.”
He got about five feet away when a rage I didn’t know I even had forced my mouth open. “You’re not even going to ask?! You don’t even want to know any of the backstory? Nothing? You can just walk away from what I just told you, just like that?!” I screamed after him.
“It doesn’t matter,” he called over his shoulder plainly, his back still to me.
“No, of course it doesn’t matter,” I wailed. “It never matters once a kid is involved right?! I’m damaged goods as far as you’re concerned huh? Well here’s the kicker, Jackson, just because I said I have a kid with Dylan doesn’t mean I had a kid with Dylan. She’s not mine by blood, not that it matters. She’s my daughter because I raised her from the time she was born and I love her more than life itself. Not that you’d have any clue about what that means!”
I struck a nerve. Jackson looked over his shoulder and I could feel the corners of his eyes staring me down in his peripherals. He still refused to turn around.
“We were on a break, me and Dylan,” I said, tears refusing to stay at bay any longer. “I was feeling sorry for myself and wound up at a bar talking to some woman who was there keeping an eye on her younger sister who had a history of making really awful choices once she was out of the military.”
Dylan turned around, and we stood facing each other five feet apart, my fists shaking with adrenaline.
“Meg?” Jackson said, watching tears fall from my cheeks to my chin.
“Meg,” I repeated. “That’s the night I met her. The night we became best friends. That’s when Dylan walked into the same bar, a complete and freak coincidence.”
“Phoenix is Meg’s baby?” Jackson mouthed.
I shook my head. “No, Jackson. Phoenix isn’t Meg’s baby. Dylan showed up half lit as it was, but it took him two beers and a shot of Jim Beam to realize I was sitting at the other end of the bar. He left, and Meg and I didn’t see him the rest of the night.”
“So who…?”
“Meg’s sister Cheryl was outside smoking a cigarette when he stormed out. She used him as her getaway car since she was tired of being under the watch of a babysitter. Ultimately the cab only had one stop that night. Dylan had no intentions of seeing her again after that night. I kept in touch with Meg because we bonded that night. We were both heartbroken, me about Dylan and her about Cheryl. I found out Cheryl was pregnant a few weeks later when Meg and I reconnected to go out for her birthday and some drinks. That’s when she told me and we put the timeline together. I drunk dialed Dylan from the bar that night and told him that Cheryl was pregnant. Dylan didn’t plan to get someone pregnant while we tried to work out where our relationship was headed. After the initial shock wore off Dylan and I did get back together. Cheryl was still pregnant when we got back together, so I’ve been there for Phoenix since the very beginning.”
Jackson’s eyes appeared to quiver, but he blinked and ran his hand through his hair instead. “I didn’t know, Pip…”
“You never gave me a reason to tell you!” I yelled at him. “You never made me feel that it was important enough to tell you because I was always too busy taking care of you. Worrying about you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m always taking care of everyone else. Cheryl made it two months clean after Phoenix was born before old habits crept in. She did the right thing and remained clean her whole pregnancy but she couldn’t cope with her PTSD and a new baby. She overdosed just before Phoenix was three months old. I watched Dylan and Meg grieve with the fallout and I rushed in to love a baby who didn’t ask for any of it. I convinced Dylan to let me co-parent her with him, for better or for worse, they both needed me.”
“So you’re married?” he said, swallowing the words like a golf ball.
“No, Jackson. We can co-parent without being married. I couldn’t blame him for the baby, especially since I was the reason why we had taken a break in the first place after years of being together. It never would have happened otherwise…but I’m the only mom she’s ever known. She’s three now but Dylan and I split for the last time when she was around two years old. I still take her every chance I get. Meg and I do a damn good job making sure she’s the center of our universe. Dylan and I are trying our best to balance it all since we’re not together.”
“Why did you break up?”
“You don’t get to ask that now. You just tried leaving, just like every other guy who finds out I’m helping to raise a baby that isn’t mine with my ex. How do you think that would go over on a first date? Maybe I should though, I’m certainly not ashamed of her like I am of people like you who think it’s a good reason to walk away.”
“Pip, tell me, why did you break up?” His eyes were desperate. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other he crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t move toward me, but I felt a magnetic tug eerily pulling us closer.
“He didn’t see me,” I said. My chest heaved, remembering the night I told Dylan to leave. “At some point he stopped seeing me. When I walked into a room, when I smiled at him, anytime I made an effort to look my best or go out of my way to make him feel special… he never saw me. I was ghosted but still in a relationship. So I really disappeared, I left him, so he could see what it would be like without me. It backfired.”
“I see you.”
I stared at him, my heart thrashing as he retraced his steps and closed the gap between us. He pulled on my chin with one hand when we reached me, forcing me to look at him.
“I see you. I do.” He opened my right palm with his free hand, never breaking eye contact, and dropping something cold and rectangular in the center.
“What’s this?”
“And, like I said before,” he said keeping my attention. “None of what you said matters and there’s nothing else for me to say. I need to go. Call Meg to come get you.”
My chin remained frozen in its upright position as Jackson let his hands fall to his sides. I opened my mouth as he turned his back to me, but nothing came out. It was almost slow motion, watching him reach the dunes and crossing over them. He pulled a small, blue box from his pocket and chucked it into the dune grass, disappearing into the distance and leaving me with only the howl of the ocean winds to comfort me.
He left.
Again.
I told him the darkest, most vulnerable pieces of me and he walked away from them like he was leaving a coffee shop. Water welled up in both of my eyes as I clenched both of my fists. The cold metal tingling on the inside my right hand forced me to look down.
Through the blur of tears I could see two dog tags on a chain, each with a one-word inscription engraved on the back.
Before. & Always.
Chapter Fourteen
Four weeks.
That’s how long Jackson and I played the game of making bubbles pop up on each other’s screens. I would write an entire, hate-filled paragraph and delete it all moments before hitting send.
I would go into work, still on light-duty, and find a bathroom stall between seeing patients. Utilizing talk-to-text I’d mind-dump every salty thought I had with fervor, then clear the message before leaving the bathroom.
Watching the bubbles pop up on my screen was infuriating.
I had no idea why he bothered keeping my number in his phone at all with how our last encounter ended.
I wound up sitting on the beach in a stupor that day, before finally calling Meg to come get me. She s
pent the next couple of hours letting me cry my mascara off, blackening her shirt.
Meg’s way of comforting someone would be to pat them with a broom from a few feet away. I knew I was in a state of hysteria considering she practically let me ruin the blouse she had on that day. She also fed me copious amounts of rum and ginger ale—again—like a true friend would.
The next morning I woke up puffy-eyed but refreshed. I felt like I shed a skin that had been dangling from my ankles. For two weeks after the fight I dove head first into consuming any of my free time with work, albeit light-duty responsibilities drove me insane, just to pass the time.
I spent more time with Phoenix than I had in the past year combined, taking her to every park within a twenty mile radius more times than I could count.
Meg joined me at the gym more than ever. Unsure if she was doing it out of guilt or a newfound love of fitness, I’d remind her she didn’t have to hover over me like I was lost.
“You were right,” I said, more assured than I was willing to admit. “I let my own selfishness put a blindfold over me and the whole situation with Jackson.”
“I often am right, love,” Meg said on the treadmill next to me.
“So what do I do now? It doesn’t hurt any less,” I admitted.
Meg nodded, her cheeks flustered. “You do what everyone else in our situation does. You do what Phoenix has to do when we take her to visit Cheryl’s grave. You do what I have had to do every day since Cheryl killed herself. You do what Dylan does now that he finally realizes the magnitude of what he lost by not appreciating you, and you do what your mom does every single morning.”
“What’s that?”
She wagged a finger at me. “You keep fucking going.”
The second half of the month was easier. Running was back in my routine on a daily basis and I was visiting my mom more. By the end of the month, I gave Joanne my blessing to put me back on the schedule full-time. I was chugging along, fairly certain that I was making productive strides forward.
Then, I made the mistake of visiting Meg at The Inlet.
“You do exist,” Meg said, wide-eyed when I sat down. “I thought you’d joined the ranks of Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy, rarely seen but mysteriously real.”
“One very strong Long Island, bartender,” I said, motioning with a finger to the empty coaster in front of me. “Pronto. Plus, don’t give me that, it’s literally been four days since I saw you last.”
“Oh boy, you’re having a sleepover at my house tonight aren’t you? I can feel it.”
“Good possibility,” I said, eyeing her hands as she poured my drink to life.
“That’s called enabling though, isn’t it?” she chimed in.
“I call it you get free entertainment since you’re at work and can’t drink anyway, so don’t complain.”
Meg pulled a styrofoam cup up onto the counter from behind the bar. “Coffee’s for the weak,” she said, winking.
“Rum?”
“Rum, coffee, they’re both dark and alter the tolerance level you have for other people so it’s win-win.”
“You’re daring. Doing that often?”
“Only days that end in ‘Y’ lately.”
I nodded. “To your coffee.”
“To your liver,” Meg said, tipping the coffee cup to her mouth.
We both smiled as we brought our cups to the counter.
There was some tension. Meg opened her mouth to say something, but covered it up by coughing. I did the same, wanting to speak but instead pretending I was fishing a random piece of something out of my back tooth instead.
“Oh God, you’re going to ask me,” Meg said, the moment of silence lasting too long.
“Ask you what?”
“No, the answer is no Pippa. I won’t do it.”
“Do what?!”
“I’m not feeding into this, the woe-is-me thing you’re doing right now. Don’t you dare ask me about him.”
“Who?”
“Oh myyyyy…” Meg said, putting her hands up to the sides of her face. “I can’t believe that even if I saw him you’d want me to tell you anything about him.”
“You’re supposed to be my best friend.”
“That is never argued, however, you coming in here for an innocent drink without asking me if Jackson has been here is noted.”
“He keeps doing the three dots thing, he just won’t hit send.”
“Have you?”
“No,” I scoffed. “Why should I? He’s the one who walked away.”
“So why bother wondering then?”
“Because…because obviously I just…” I shrugged, taking another sip of my drink for a pause. “I just would want to know…”
“There’s nothing to know, Pip. He hasn’t been here. In fact he hasn’t been anywhere. Of course I’m your best friend, but I haven’t seen him.”
I swallowed. “I know. I went to his apartment building.”
“Pippa!”
“I had to see for myself how he was doing without me. I wanted to watch him walk out of his building in the morning with a coffee cup in one hand and a smile on to know I was justified in not reaching out to him.”
“And…?”
“He never came out. He didn’t come out the next day, or the next…”
“Okay stalker, how many days did you—”
“Just three. Then I asked the doorman. Jackson moved, Meg. He up and left.”
“Maybe his lease was up?” she suggested.
“He didn’t leave a forwarding address but paid for the month in full before leaving.”
“Maybe he was planning to move out regardless of what happened between you two?”
“The doorman said he moved out on the same day we fought on the beach.”
“Woah.”
“Yeah. I was hoping maybe he just…moved somewhere else or something.”
“Well, he did, clearly.”
“Somewhere else around here.”
“I’m sorry,” Meg offered.
“Maybe you could call him quick?”
“Pippa Winters! You know my rule.”
“You can pretend he left something here and just ask where to forward it to.”
“That’s some true crime TV level shit, Pippa. I don’t call people from the bar, especially to come meet up with your level of crazy. Let’s just make that clear as glass.”
“Do it for me.”
“What about Dylan?”
“What about him?” I said.
“Yow, watch the sass lady, I was just asking as a concerned friend.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
“Accepted. So what about Dylan? Where does he fit in all of this?” A patron waved at Meg from down the bar, to which Meg held up a finger motioning for him to wait a minute. “A regular, never mind him. Please continue.”
“He fits like a puzzle piece.”
Meg heightened her left eyebrow. “And that means…?”
“He fits right where he should, it works, but the slightest movements pull us apart again.”
“Deep,” Meg said, nodding. “You should write that one down.”
“You should do your job before you get fired,” I said, sweetly waving at the patron down the bar who was growing impatient.
“Worth it,” Meg said. “You know, what you and Dylan have is complicated but he does love you. I know you love him. That doesn’t mean you have to be together. You’ll always do the right thing for Phoenix, that’s never a concern. So maybe you need to figure out what’s right for you.”
“Phoenix,” I said, rolling her name over on my tongue. “Crazy, the irony of her name, isn’t it?”
“A mythical bird that is born from the ashes. I think about it all the time,” Meg admitted. “She’s grown from the ashes of so much heartache.” She exhaled, bringing her chin to her chest. “Okay, session’s over for today. I’ll bill you, so leave your address with my receptionist. I have goose bumps.” She smoothed the hairs on her left
arm.
“Thanks, Dr. Phil.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket that had started to vibrate. “Now go away, I have drinking and self-loathing to do.”
Meg curtsied in front of me and then walked to the end of the bar.
“Pippa,” I said, picking up the call.
“Miss Winters? This is Mrs. Frye calling. Do you have a moment?”
My heart dropped. “My mom…?”
“She’s fine! Totally fine, please forgive me if I startled you by calling in the evening. I know you usually call in the mornings for her progress updates.”
I exhaled slowly, motioning Meg away with my hand since my wide eyes while on the call magnetized her in my direction. ‘It’s okay’ I mouthed, and she went back to putting orders up on the bar, narrowing her eyes at me.
“Sure, what’s going on?”
“Some good news. I know we always don’t have the happiest of things to share so I wanted to reach out personally. Your mom has been responding so well to the gentleman who has been coming to visit her, I know sometimes she can get confused with who people are but he really has a way of opening her up and keeping her happy. I’m sure you’d want to know that we encourage anything that makes our residents’ stay more comfortable and enjoyable.”
I thought of Dylan’s name still being registered on her emergency call list and what Meg and I had just talked about. “I agree,” I said. “Speaking of that, is there any way I’d be able to move someone from my mom’s emergency contact list to just their visitor list?” I didn’t want to pull his visitor rights if it made Mom happy, but I also wanted to set some boundaries.
“Certainly, let me pull up her file.”
I could hear a burst of clicks and taps on the other end. “Ah, here we go. Who would you like to remove from the emergency list?”
“Dylan.”
“Very good. And you want me to keep him on the visitor list?”
“Please,” I said, swirling the straw in my drink and watching the ice clink off the glass, feeling an odd sense of closure and resolution with the decision.
“All right, very good. You’re all set. I’m assuming given our conversation you’d want me to keep visitor access open to the volunteer group that works through your hospital?”
