by Lacey Dailey
It isn’t the same—not by a long shot. But when it comes to cleansing yourself free of things that make you feel heavy, it’s not about measuring whose load weighs the most. It’s about the courage required to chase the life you were convinced you’d never have.
When the weight falls off my chest, I’ll feel nothing but relief when I take my first free breath.
20
Gigi
The first thing I noticed was the absence of my white Jetta. I left it where I knew it would be safe for the summer—in my assigned parking spot outside of my apartment building. I could leave it there as long as rent was still being paid. Since that wasn’t an issue, I locked the doors and took a cab to Max’s place, knowing it was secure.
The second thing I noticed was the welcome mat I’d never seen before lying outside my front door. I’d always gotten along with my neighbors, so I thought maybe it was gift from one of them. But then my key didn’t work.
The third and final thing was the woman in pink scrubs who opened the door to my apartment from the inside. While bouncing a toddler on her hip, she stared at Max, Renzo, and I with a friendly smile and curiosity in her eyes. Her name was Bethany, and she’d just moved in.
To my apartment.
A peek around her shoulder and a bunch of questions from Renzo led us to the conclusion that Bethany had signed the lease to my apartment eight days beforehand. The greatest part of the story was the nice man who provided her with information on the apartment and pointed her in the direction of the landlord. His name was Tito, and he was all smiles while he spoke to her, supervising a group of people loading a moving truck with boxes.
My boxes.
I sit here on Max’s couch, numb and silent, faintly listening to my brother and my boyfriend devise a plan to get me all my stuff back. I stare at the wall beside his television, wondering where my head was at when I agreed to let my father sign my lease and take over payments so school could be my only worry.
It’s my fault.
This dreadful, catastrophic life I’ve found myself living is my fault. I let this happen.
I am submerged in shame, choking on embarrassment. I am the one who let it get this far. I am a woman incapable of using her voice and saying the word no.
I am the woman they tell you not to be.
I dab at the tears pooling in my eyes, unwilling to shed any more at the hands of my father. The tears aren’t for the things he stole from my apartment. It was likely clothes and shoes I won’t wear again and makeup my mother insisted I purchased. The tears are for the disrespect—the mockery and disregard for the things I care about when he walked inside my home and let strangers carelessly back it into boxes.
Everything was gone—gifts I got from my family, paintings I made in school, scrapbooks I made with my girls senior year. Gone. In my apartment were those small treasures, displaying the life I enjoyed living. I left them in my home because I thought they’d be safe.
He stole that from me too.
“Gia, baby?” Max’s hand runs down my face, his fingertips dipping into the wetness that escaped my eye. “I’m so sorry. We’re going fix this. Renzo has a plan to get your stuff back.”
He’s kneeling in front of me while Renzo stands close, slamming his thumbs on his phone.
“Do you want to grab something to eat?” He asks softly, fully ridding my face of the tears I did not consent to. “Renzo and I were thinking french fries and Cheetos.”
Renzo hates Cheetos.
I appreciate the gesture, though all it does it make me feel pathetic. “I’m actually not hungry.”
He frowns. “Babe, we haven’t eaten since lunch.”
“That wasn’t that long ago.”
“That was almost seven hours ago, Gia.”
I slip from his hold and lay across his couch, pulling my knees to my chest. “I guess I just don’t feel like going anywhere.”
“What if Ren and I go real quick and bring something back? Will you eat it? Please?”
“Sure.” I don’t understand why me consuming salty potatoes and fried cheese is such an important thing right now, but if it will make him happy, I’ll do it.
“Okay.” Brushing my hair off my face, he kisses my forehead. “We will be right back.”
It’s less than a minute after the door clicks shut that I start to sob. Pressing my face into the cushion of his couch, I scream. Tears and salvia saturate the cotton beneath me as I scream. I wonder if there is anyone who can hear me, and then I scream louder. My chest burns with the effort but I don’t stop. I think maybe if I scream loud enough, my father will hear me falling apart.
He doesn’t hear me.
Nobody hears me, and nobody gets it.
My stomach lurches, recognizing that thought as a lie the moment it appears in my brain. Sitting up, I let my screams die and the tears on my cheeks dry.
I drag myself off the couch, stumbling toward the counter where my phone rests. My fingers shake as I search for the number. I sniff as it rings in my ear. My hand to my stomach, I breathe as I remember.
There is one person.
One person who gets it.
Stepping onto the escalator, I search the crowd for his familiar face. I hold tight to the small bag I’ve strapped across my chest, standing as close to the edge as I can while I make room for all of the people who just walked off the same plane as me.
It isn’t until I’ve left the escalator and walked deeper into the airport do I spot him. Hands shoved in pockets, he offers me a half smile and a nod of his head. Beside him is a petite woman, freckles dancing with her smile. She uses both hands to wave at me, and I quicken my feet, dodging airport clutter to greet them faster.
“Gigi!” Olivia’s in my arms in a blink, squeezing me with all her might. “I’m so happy you called! Ben has told me all about what an ass he was to you. I’d like to apologize on his behalf.”
“I’ve apologized on my own behalf many times, Liv.”
“Hush.” She releases me and swats his chest. “It’s my wifely duty.”
Benny rolls his eyes at his wife, his smile extending. He opens his arms. “Hi, Gigi. I’m glad you came.”
“Thank you for inviting me.” I return his hug, thankful for his friendship and how far we’ve come.
Over my head, he scans the crowd of people as it thins. “Where’s Max?”
“About that.” My chuckle is nervous. “I didn’t actually invite him. He doesn’t know I left.”
“I’m sorry?”
The grip I have on my bag tightens beneath sweaty hands. “I sort of left a note on the counter.”
“You told your boyfriend about your impromptu trip up north in a note?”
I smile sheepishly “He’s very fond of impromptu trips.”
“Probably when he’s actually invited on them.”
“Benny—”
“She calls you Benny?” Olivia claps her hands together. “That’s adorable.”
“Doesn’t everybody call him Benny?”
“No.” Benny grunts and ushers us through the crowd. “I’m a grown ass man.”
“Really? You are?” I quip. “When did that happen?”
Olivia howls in laughter, linking her arm in mine. “I like you, Gigi.”
“I like you too.” I transfer my bag to one hand and follow Benny as he leads the two us through the airport and into a parking garage. “Thank you for letting me invade your home.”
“You aren’t invading our home, Gigi.” Olivia gives me a shake before releasing me. “I’m happy to have you here. Especially after hearing everything your father did.”
Benny glances over his shoulder as we walk. “Let’s wait until we get home to start discussing the deep stuff, babe. Yeah?”
Olivia leads me to a Ford Focus, opening the back door for me. I fold myself into the small car, eyes trained on the window for the duration of the drive.
Vermont is stunning. Rows of mountains and acres of trees make up my view as I stare. The be
auty makes it easy to understand why Benny chose to live here. These mountains we pass by exude peace. They feel exactly like the place everybody wants to escape to. The mountains are so vast, there’s room for everybody to breathe in solitude.
As we pull into a driveway, I almost can’t believe the house we stop in front of belongs to Benny Romano. There are white pillars on either side of his front door, framing large windows that make the home appear friendly.
Stepping on their front porch, flanked by Benny and Olivia, I can’t help but smile at the garden behind us, a sign in the center that reads ‘The Andersons.’
Stepping into the house, I’m greeted first by a kitchen, walls painted a gentle blue. Dark wood and pastel colors are accented throughout the space. Olivia pulls out a stool for me, cushioned in a baby pink color.
I sit, bag on my lap as I watch Olivia move around the island I’m seated at. “Would you like a drink, Gigi?”
“Oh, I’m fine. Thank you.”
“She’s lying, babe.” Benny nudges my shoulder as he walks past me, reaching for the cabinets above the sink. I bite back a laugh when I see they’re stocked with liquor. “What do you want, Gigi? Pick something strong. You’ll need it for the conversation we’re about to have about our fucked up parents.”
There’s the Benny I know.
“You pick. It’s all the same to me.”
He flashes me a disapproving look over his shoulder, grabbing a bottle and two glasses from a rack beside the sink. “It’s not all the same, but don’t worry. I have the good stuff.”
Olivia snuffs, flashing me a smile. “He thinks it’s all the good stuff.”
Benny holds up the bottle of dark liquor using it to gesture toward a set of patio doors. “Want to go sit outside?”
I stand from my stool, setting my bag on the counter. I wait and watch him place a kiss on Olivia’s cheek before following him through his dining room and into the backyard.
“Benny, holy shit.” The landscaping looks like a carbon copy of a pop up fairytale book I had when I was a kid.
“I know, right?”
Directly in front of us is a stone path. Its length leads from the back porch we are currently standing on to the heart of the backyard. To my right is a wooden swing-set, nestled next to a small cottage thing. A manmade river flows beside the path, a small bridge built over its center. Flowers upon flowers in different varieties and sizes are planted throughout the yard, giving the dull grass a pop of color.
Sitting down on the edge of the porch, I point to the cottage with a smile. “How do you even fit inside that little house thing?”
“It’s a playhouse.” He sits next to me, pouring two glasses of booze. The smell is a good indicator of the liquid’s strength. “My nieces are crazy about it. There’s a little kitchen inside.”
I take the glass he offers me. “That’s so cute.”
“It was up until they tried to get me to go inside. I got stuck in the doorway.”
I choke on the sip I just took, wiping the dribble off my chin. “No, you didn’t!”
“I totally did.” He swirls his drink, staring into his yard with a mind full of memories. “My brother-in-law had to come save me. It made them laugh, so I guess that’s the silver lining.”
“You’ve really made a life here for yourself.”
“Yeah.” He downs his drink in one gulp, pouring himself another.
I sip mine slowly, already feeling warmth spread through my chest.
“So.” He downs his second drink and sets his glass on the porch with a clink. “Liv’s pregnant.”
I choke again, smiling at him over the rim of my glass. I’m ready to jump to my feet and celebrate. Something in his expression stops me. He has one hand on his chest, his gaze pointed toward the sky as though he’s ready to scream profanities at it.
“Are you happy, Benny?”
“I was.” He pushes to his feet. His words are soft as he paces in front of me, kicking at the grass. “And then I got to thinking about some of the stuff you said last night when you called. You kept referring to yourself as weak for never standing up for yourself. You said you were a coward for running away when you felt scared. It hit me like a punch in the gut.” He looks to me, eyes red rimmed. “If you’re a coward, what the hell does that make me?”
“Benny—”
“What am I going to say to my kid, Gigi?” He opens his arms wide, slapping his chest as moisture fills his eyelids. “When my son or my daughter starts asking questions about their grandparents what am I supposed to tell them? If I tell them the truth then what the hell will they think of me? No kid deserves a coward for a father.”
“You are not a coward, Benny.” I stand up. “I shouldn’t have said those things. I was upset.”
“Of course, you were upset, Gigi!” His face reddens, and he grabs at his chest like he isn’t sure what’s happening there. “What your father did was so fucking crazy and a complete violation of your privacy. You have a right to be upset. You have a right to be angry.”
“So. Do. You.” I walk towards him. “I had a lot of time on that plane to think about what I said, and I’m not so sure I’m deserving of the harsh labels I gave myself. I ran away, Benny. And that’s okay. That has to be okay because I coped the best way I knew how and I am so goddamn sick of apologizing for it.”
I wipe at my tears with the heel of my hand and watch him drop to the grass. He sniffs, bending his knees and resting his elbows there. “Ya know what I’m sick of? Hiding. Years ago, I thought I was doing the right thing. Hell. I was proud for removing myself from a life I thought was toxic. Pieces of me are still proud but there are other pieces that feel like such a loser. I don’t know which pieces are right. I’m not so sure I would’ve survived if I didn’t listen to the side of me that told me to run.”
Pieces of an old conversation flood my mind. “Devil side.”
He lifts his chin. “What?”
“It’s your devil side.” Max is a genius. “The side of you you’re reluctant to expose because you think people won’t accept it or laugh at it. But you can’t get rid of it. It’s a piece of you. The piece that keeps you sane and whole.” I drop next to him in the grass, tugging at the blades as I talk. “I think it takes just as much strength to run as it does to fight. Some people don’t have the strength to even pick themselves up off the ground and walk away. There was something in you that was strong enough to recognize when it was time to walk away. You said it yourself, that something saved you.”
“Walking away still feels like it only brought me halfway to freedom.”
“I think we’re supposed to take ourselves the rest of the way, Benny.”
Now that I’d stopped focusing on it, it was crystal clear. There is something inside all of us. Something that makes us feel vulnerable—a side we’re reluctant to expose because we aren’t sure how the ones closest to us will react when they come face to face with it.
It’s why I never confided in my family regarding what was happening in my personal life. I was hesitant to let them see a side of me I felt ashamed of and worked constantly to portray otherwise.
Looking at it now, I can recognize and appreciate the something I wanted to hide was the same something that saved me. It was the side of me that resisted confronting her father—the side that thought twice before stomping into his office filled with anger and nothing to say.
I have something to say now.
My devil side is not a coward. She’s a thinker. She considers and she plans and I will not be ashamed of her.
“Where do we go from here, Gigi?”
“We go back.”
I won’t try to compare Aiden to my inability to say no, but their bravery was nothing short of admirable. It’s inspiring and awakening. Max and Aiden gave themselves over to the possibility of rejection because the end was more important than the middle.
Benny throws his arm around my shoulders. “Who knew you and I would be teaming up to take down our shitho
le parents together?”
I snort. “Not me. That’s for sure.”
“We’re doing this?”
“We’re doing this.” Jumping to my feet, I brush the grass from my legs and extend my hand.
He doesn’t hesitate to put his hand in mine. As soon as he’s on his feet, he hugs me. “Thank you for forgiving me.”
“Thank you for chasing life and showing me how to do the same.”
He kisses the top of my head.
“Come on.” I step back. “Let’s go back to the airport, get our asses on a plane, and tell our parents they don’t control us.”
“Then what?”
I smile. “Then we’re free.”
21
Aiden
I went on a trip to Vermont. Be back soon.
Twenty-four hours have passed since we read that fucking note. I don’t know what my girl’s definition of soon is but I can sure as shit tell you that most people wouldn’t consider soon an entire fucking day.
The moment our eyes caught sight of her handwriting, Max was gone. He hasn’t surfaced for even a second, refusing to acknowledge that our girl might not come back.
I don’t entertain that sorry excuse for a thought. Gia is strong, and she is coming back.
“What the hell is in Vermont, anyway?” Renzo sits on the couch, staring at his phone like he’s willing it to ring.
Her brother has spent the last day looking at me like I’m from a different planet. I’ve been acting like a lunatic—pacing around the apartment and dropping fuck bombs left and right. Last night, when Renzo mentioned she could be with her bastard father, I flipped the goddamn coffee table.
“You should try calling her again.” He says.
I do, and when I listen to the start of her voicemail for the sixty-seventh time, I repress the urge to put my fist through a wall. Why do people even own cell phones if they don’t answer calls or respond to text messages?
