“I’d like to take you out on a real date, Harley. Is that possible?” I ask, watching her closely as I continue to lean against her kitchen counter.
Her shoulders tense, but her smile doesn’t flinch. Either she hates the idea and doesn’t want to show it or she likes the idea and wants to not act too eager. I’m hoping for the latter.
“I’m sure that would be nice, but I’m not in a position to date right now. I have Phoenix to worry about and no one to watch him.”
“I’m not five!” Phoenix yells from somewhere in the apartment. I assumed he was here but didn’t give much thought to the fact he could hear our conversation.
Now that I know, I’ll keep the conversation PG even if my thoughts aren’t. Because I want to ask her if we can skip dinner and move right to the after-hours activities. Not that she doesn’t deserve to be treated to a nice meal, she absolutely does, but I’m excited about where that nice meal could lead.
“I’m aware of that,” Harley yells back. “Doesn’t mean you don’t need supervision.”
Harley rolls her eye and nods her head toward the door, a clear sign she would prefer to talk in private. As soon as we’re in the hall, she begins rambling on something about the beach.
“He’s just so angry,” she finishes, finally taking a breath.
“He’s a kid. What did you expect? He can’t have everything he wants, and at his age, he can get away with throwing a temper tantrum. Put yourself in his shoes for a minute. You get to make your own decisions now, but there was a time when someone was always telling you what to do.”
Harley’s face falls flat, a clear sign that I’m off the mark about something. I don’t push her, though. Now doesn’t feel like the time to dig deeper into this subject.
“Let him go to the beach,” I suggest. It’s purely selfish on my part. “We can walk him over, and then I can take you to lunch somewhere close. He can hang out with his friends if they’re still there, and we can go on our date.”
“But I never agreed to go out with you.”
“You didn’t say no either, so I took that as a yes.” Crossing her arms over her chest, Harley stares me down, raising an eyebrow at me in challenge. “Please, Harley. It would be my honor to take you out. And if you prefer we not call it a date, we can keep it casual. Just two friends eating at the same table.”
“Say yes, Harley,” I hear Phoenix whisper-yell through the door.
Apparently there’s no getting away from prying ears. The kid doesn’t give up. At his age, I wouldn’t have either. I’m happy he’s on my side, though.
It takes her a minute to relent, but she finally nods her head, keeping her lips pressed together to keep from laughing, and says, “Fine. Let me change and freshen up.”
“Yes!” Phoenix’s excitement echoes through the hall.
“And make sure he knows the rules,” she continues. “We’ll meet you downstairs in ten minutes.”
“Perfect,” I state, turning and heading inside to freshen up myself. She may not want to call this a date, but in my mind, that’s exactly what this is and how I’m going to treat it. I want to put my best foot forward by not only looking the part but smelling that way too.
I’m thrilled, considering this is not how I saw today turning out. She was still angry with me last night when we parted. Her smile in the hall tells me she’s softened up slightly since then, but I could still see the frustration in her eyes. I overstepped. I get that now. I was going to talk to her boss without her permission and give her information I never considered Harley would want to come from her. There were plenty of other things I wanted to discuss with Vivian, but Harley was the main thing.
So when I woke up this morning, instead of talking to Harley and apologizing, I took a walk to clear my head. I started at the beach, enjoying the sound of the waves crashing against the sand, and ended up at the rehab center as if it was calling to me. Maybe it was. Maybe I knew Daphne was the person I needed to speak with. She held all the cards in her hands, and I needed to figure out which one she planned to play next.
It was a short visit, mainly because she was in a piss-poor mood. She was getting her ass kicked in ping pong when I walked in. The guy she was playing against looked a few years older than me and didn’t appear to be holding back. Daphne was good, but this guy was better, and he wasn’t letting her win like I used to.
“He’s such an asshole,” she states, flopping onto the sofa.
“You can’t walk around calling everyone an asshole because they beat you at a game fair and square.” Rationalizing with her never worked in the past, so I’m not sure why I’m trying now. If Daph wants to be pissed and claim someone’s an asshole for no reason, she’s going to.
“I’m not. He tricked me. He pretended not to know how to play, let me get to game point, and then came back and took the game. Ass. Hole.”
That was a dick move. Even I wouldn’t pull that. Unless… the dick wants in her pants. Not that she’d let him anywhere near her. He’s not her type. Still, if I wanted to get a girl’s attention and I knew she was good a something, I’d have her teach me and then show off my skills at the very end.
Smooth, guy. Very smooth.
I want to pat him on the back as much as I want to punch him square in his jaw and warn him not to touch my sister. Big brother privileges don’t have merit here, though. That’s the kind of thing I imagine would get me kicked off the approved visitors list.
“So what are you doing here?” she asks.
“I wanted to see you. Is that okay?”
“Sure. Fine. Except I have a feeling you came to talk. Maybe about your girlfriend,” she teases, wiggling her eyebrows at me, a devious smirk slowly forming on her face.
“As delighted as I would be for that to be true, you know it’s not. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t harass her. She’s done nothing but try and help you.”
“I don’t like her.”
“I didn’t ask if you liked her.”
“But I don’t.”
“You don’t even know her, Daph. Give it a chance. Give her a chance. I know you don’t want to be here, but it is what it is. You’ve already survived three weeks. You can do this. Any side effects of withdrawal? Any cravings?”
“God, Alex. You sound like them. Leave the psychotherapy to the professionals, okay? Be my brother for a change. It’s the least you can do since you won’t break me out of here.”
Nodding, I promise myself to think before I speak from now on. I want her to know I’m in her corner. I want her to believe it. She needs to see it. Part of that is supporting her.
“I’ll leave her alone, I promise,” Daph continues. “Please don’t get involved with her. I still don’t like her. She’s a liar just like everyone else here. I can tell.”
She’s not a liar, but it’s obvious there’s a lot about herself she’s hiding. I don’t tell Daphne that, of course. That would be more fuel for the fire I’ve finally douses. At least I hope I have. I love my sister, but her word is far from credible. Especially right now.
Rolling on a fresh coat of deodorant and changing my shirt, I take a long look in the mirror at the man staring back. What I see surprises me.
Happiness.
Excitement.
Fear.
Each emotion weighs on me differently. The happiness and excitement outweigh the fear. I’ve been on my fair share of dates before. Most of them have been first, and last, dates. I usually find something about the other person I don’t like. Something that stops me from wanting to ask them out again.
It can be the smallest thing. The way they laugh. If they talk too much about themselves or not enough. Nervous ticks. The way they eat or drink. Their dreams.
That seems stupid, to not go on another date because of someone else’s dreams, but it happened once. The girl was gorgeous. The date was going perfectly. Then she admitted that the only reason she was even bothering to go to college was to find a husband. That all she wanted was to be a house
wife. To have kids and someone to support her.
Don’t get me wrong. There is nothing wrong with that dream. Being a mother and wife is one of the hardest jobs out there. You don’t get paid to wipe asses and clean toilets. It’s a full-time, 24-hour job with a level of commitment most people can’t even begin to comprehend.
It wasn’t what she said so much as the way she said it. The tone of her voice.
She wasn’t looking to fall in love. She didn’t care about finding a connection with someone or even the right man to spend the rest of her life with. She was in it for the money.
Which made me think of my mother.
She married my father for his money. For the fact that he was from a well-known, well-off family. That he was quickly making a name for himself in Chicago. Did she ever love him? Maybe. I hope she did, somewhere deep down, but I know she doesn’t now. And if she does, she has an odd way of showing it.
And my father… I have no idea what he was thinking when he married my mother. She’s not his type. He’s not invested in the relationship. He doesn’t actually seem like the marrying kind.
I can’t even remember the last time they shared a room, let alone a bed.
It’s all a sham.
I didn’t want to end up like my father, in what appears to be a loveless marriage. One of convenience. One where my wife was only with me because she could have whatever she wanted. A marriage where my secretary could blow me while I was on a conference call and there would be no repercussions.
Yes, I told my mother all about what I walked in on. She didn’t even blink. Didn’t seem surprised. It made me wonder how many times it has happened over the years. The cheating? Was it commonplace? Did she expect it?
Why would she stay with him if that was the case? It wasn’t for love. Or maybe it was. My mother did love money. She had signed a prenup. If she left my father, she could lose everything.
Then it made me wonder why he didn’t let her go. Why was he screwing around with other women? Was it the convenience? His secretary was available. She was young, gorgeous, and ambitious. Did she think my father would leave my mother for her? Was she in love with him? Or was she like my mother, only interested in his bank account?
The idea of love is strange. To be consumed so strongly by someone or something that you would do anything to hold on to that feeling. The intensity overwhelming. I can’t even begin to imagine how that feels, and I’m not sure I want to if it makes me do stupid shit.
Like screw my secretary or marry someone I don’t care about. Because both of my parents love the same thing… money.
I want someone to love me for me. Not for the balance in my bank account. Not for what I can do for them. Not for the image that comes along with being a part of the Neil family.
We may be a big name in Chicago, but anywhere outside the city limits, no one gives a shit about us. About how much money we have or who we think we are. I know I don’t. I’d rather be poor and happy than rich and miserable. Because, in the grand scheme of things, with fame and fortune comes obligations.
Obligations I don’t give two shits about anymore.
There’s a stereotype that comes with being rich I can’t wait to break free from. I want to change the perception people have of me because I don’t want anyone to think I’m like my father. Especially Harley.
So this date… it’s important. It’s my chance to show her that I’m nothing like the monster that raised me. That I’m more than the money I come from. To destroy the stereotype that all rich people only care about money. Because this girl is already more important to me than my account balance. Her and her son.
16
Harley
* * *
Phoenix’s friends are right where he said they’d be. They each have a water gun and they’re running around, chasing each other. They’ve managed to build part of a sandcastle, though it appears they’ve stepped on it a time or two. Their towels are covered in sand, folded over, and there’s a cooler laying open between them.
Handing Phoenix a twenty-dollar bill and his bag, he runs away without saying goodbye, waving at his friends as he screams their names. Two of them stop their chase and wave back. The third, my new favorite, takes advantage of the situation and squirts his friends in their faces before running off.
To see Phoenix happy and carefree warms my heart. To watch him be a kid and nothing more. No worries. No concerns about running or being found. Completely free. But at what expense? I hate to give him too much freedom only to have to take it back.
Last time, in San Francisco, I let him go to a birthday party at a trampoline park. I wanted to stay, to supervise, but he begged me to leave. So I did, and when I came back, I found him with his leg elevated and an ice pack on his ankle.
The parents tried to call me. The number I’d given them wasn’t my actual number. I never gave out my number back then for fear of it getting into the wrong hands. Of course, that was a huge wake up call for me. A parenting fail that I never planned to make again.
Not just because they freaked out on me either. They threatened to call CPS for negligence, and embarrassed Phoenix in front of the other kids and me in front of the other parents.
They judged me. Us. Assumed I was unfit because of my age. They said as much and more.
I started looking for a new job the next day, and we’ve been here ever since. I felt bad for Phoenix. He was just starting to get settled, fitting in nicely at his new school. The kid has no problem making friends, but keeping them is another story altogether. It’s hard when you’re always on the move, and it feels like that’s what life has been for the past three years.
Us moving from place to place. Something always coming up forcing us to run again. Not staying anywhere longer than a few months to a year. Enough time for him to make a few friends before we up and leave without saying goodbye.
San Diego is the longest we’ve stayed in one place since we started running. Nineteen months. I’d like to stay as long as possible, and because of that, I’m more cautious than I have been in the past. Because if it’s not another parent threatening to destroy our situation, it’s the chance my mother will eventually catch up with us.
That can’t happen. Ever.
“Shall we?” Alex asks, placing his hand on the small of my back and motioning down the sidewalk.
“Yeah.” The single word falls flat as I allow Alex to guide me away from the beach. My eyes don’t leave Phoenix until he’s no longer in sight.
“He’s a smart kid. He won’t get in a van with a stranger or anything. He’s going to be fine,” Alex tries to reassure me, knowing I’m worried about Phoenix’s safety but wrong about who I’m afraid will steal him away from me.
“I know. I just worry. The world was a much different place when I was his age. We didn’t have to worry about things like that. Hell, I’d leave my house at the crack of dawn and not come home until dark most days.”
Alex chuckles to himself but doesn’t reply. The look on his face tells me his memories are probably similar to mine. It surprises me. We’re from two completely different worlds.
From everything I’ve learned about him and his sister, they grew up in a nice part of Chicago. Their family had money. They didn’t go without or struggle a day in their life.
A trailer park in the desert isn’t exactly the same.
Stealing money from your mother to buy groceries while she’s passed out on the couch doesn’t constitute as wealthy.
Unless his mom was a hooker and his father did a stint in prison, we’re about as different as two people can be, and I’m guessing so were our childhoods.
Knowing I want to stay close to Phoenix, Alex chooses the first restaurant we come across. A tiny bistro that has a patio. He asks to sit outside, and we’re shown to a table with a great view of the beach. We’re far enough away I can’t see Phoenix and his friends but close enough I’m comfortable knowing he’s just out of sight.
After the waiter takes our ord
er, Alex starts his inquisition.
“Is it a family thing?” he asks, taking a sip of his lemonade. As he pulls the glass away, he licks his lips, capturing my attention, and my thoughts turn dirtier than I care to admit.
“What?” I ask when I realize he’s still staring at me.
“Naming your kid something that has a special meaning.”
Oh. That.
Yes and no. I want to tell him that my mother is bat-shit crazy and that we shouldn’t have been in Phoenix the weekend my brother was born. That the doctor told her not to travel but she had to go visit her boyfriend before the baby came. Wanted him to think it was his. They’d had one conjugal visit a while back. She was banking on him not being able to do the math.
So we went to Phoenix that weekend, and her water broke as soon as we left the prison. Phoenix was born twelve hours later. I wanted to tell her he was actually born in Mesa, but the poor kid already had a different name. I didn’t want him to grow up being teased more than necessary.
“I guess so. My parents obliviously found a unique way of naming me.” It’s the truth, only I didn’t have parents. I had my mother, and she was unique enough for the both of them had my father been around.
“Where are they?”
Shit. Look at the black hole I opened up. The decision to be honest weighs heavily on me.
“I don’t speak with my mother and never really knew my father,” I finally say, avoiding eye contact the best I can. I can feel his stare as I watch the waves gently crash against the shore. There’s a kid a few years younger than Phoenix running down the beach, flying a kite, somehow avoiding bumping into anyone as he stares behind him at the bright purple dragon he’s pulling along.
Half true. Way to go, Harley. You didn’t lie, but you also didn’t give him the entire story.
“Prison?”
What the hell? I mean, it’s plausible, and I really don’t want to admit I was the product of a one-night stand.
Half Truths: An Opposites Attract Romance Page 11