Don’t Love Me

by Doyle, S.

  “I decided to not trust the trains and borrow a friend’s car instead. You know how the trains can run unpredictably. Mistake number one. No, check that. Mistake number one was agreeing to do this in the first place.”

  “Marc, I love you like a son, but sometimes you can be a real asshole when it comes to Ashleigh. Just finish the story.”

  It wasn’t lost on me it was a common theme in my life. Most people didn’t call me an asshole, most people only called me an asshole when it came to Ashleigh.

  “I borrowed a buddy’s car, which apparently has a faulty gas gauge, because even though it said the tank was half full, the car ran out of gas. My phone, I realized, was also out of juice. I was smack in the middle of nowhere on that stretch of 295 just before you get to town, so I figured my chances were better waiting for a cop to spot my hazards rather than trying to walk. It worked, except I only had my license, and no registration for the car. The cop was a dick…”

  “You’ve got to fix that attitude when it comes to police officers.”

  George knew how I felt about the police in general. “Anyway, I started barking at him a little. Then he got hot and said he was going to arrest me for car theft. At which point I told him to go to hell and I might have pushed him off me.”

  “Holy shit, Marc. That’s…”

  “I know,” I said bitterly. “Resisting arrest. I spent the night in the cage while they got ahold of my friend who confirmed he’d lent me the car. Now I have a court date in a couple months to deal with the resisting arrest charge. The other cop at the station, who wasn’t quite as dickish, said it would most likely be a fine and some community service. Nothing I can’t handle.”

  Silence descended then. In the history of excuses for a why a guy stood up his prom date, that one had to go down in the top ten. I didn’t want to ask. I didn’t want to feel any worse than I already did. But I couldn’t stop myself.

  “Have you seen her?”

  He glanced over at me quickly, then went back to watching the road. “No. She called over to the carriage house a few times to see if you’d gotten home. That stopped around eight. She must have assumed by that time you weren’t coming.”

  I put my hands over my face. “Fuck! She’s going to be so pissed.”

  “She’s not and you know it. She was hurt last night. Today she’ll listen to what happened, and she’ll forgive you. It’s what she does.”

  I looked at him then. “You sound like you disapprove.”

  “You ruined something significantly important to her.”

  “I didn’t do it on purpose!” I shouted. “The cop was a total asshole!”

  “Maybe. Or maybe you could have thought about her instead. Knowing you were dealing with a hotheaded cop. Playing it that much cooler as a result, instead of getting into it with him. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. The night is over, and she’ll forgive you.”

  A ball of something, probably guilt, twisted in my gut.

  “Things…haven’t been exactly normal at the house,” George added. “Maybe you should know that, too.”

  “Describe not normal,” I said.

  “Mr. Landen’s behavior has changed over the past year. He’s more absent than present at the house. He always makes sure the privacy panel is up whenever I drive him. There are times he’s called me to pick him up from wherever he’s been, and he’s almost always drunk.”

  “Landen is a drunk?” I asked, stunned. “The dude who never has a shirt untucked, a hair out of place? Who still makes Ash wear dresses to dinner? That guy is suddenly boozing it?”

  George sighed. “I know. It’s very out of character.”

  “Hell yeah, it is. You don’t become a multi-million-dollar hedge fund manager drinking your way to the top. If he’s boozing it up now, it’s because something is bothering him. You think it’s Ash? Maybe it’s messing with his head she’s leaving for school next year. Some empty-nest shit.”

  George frowned. “I’m not certain he’s going to let her go to school.”

  “What?” I asked shocked. “You can’t be serious. She was accepted to his precious alma mater and now he won’t let her go? She’s eighteen. It’s not like he can stop her.”

  “He can decide not to pay for it,” George pointed out. “It’s not like she’s in a place to get the financial assistance you had.”

  “Why would he do that?” It didn’t make any sense. I got it to some degree. After his wife died, Ash was his only family. But he couldn’t lock her up in the castle forever. She wasn’t fucking Rapunzel.

  “I don’t know. He’s made comments here and there about her not being ready for college. His fault for sheltering her, of course. But he thinks she needs a year or two of maturing before he would feel comfortable letting her go to school. It’s like he’s preparing me for the eventuality.”

  “Does Ash know this?”

  George shook his head, his face even more grim. “I don’t think she does. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe they’ve talked. But I don’t think so. She would be fighting him harder.”

  Well, I was going to find out. After she called me every name in the book, after she got done shouting at me for ruining her prom night. After the dust settled and she did exactly what George said she would do, which was forgive me. Then I would talk to her about her choices.

  Daddy didn’t want to let her go? Then she’d have to either convince him or find a way to get the money to pay for school. Surely, she’d been gifted with enough jewelry over the years she could fund at least a semester. Show the old man she was ready for anything.

  Before I could do any of that, I had to do the hard thing first.

  * * *

  Landen estate

  Marc

  As soon as George pulled up in front of the carriage house, I hopped out of the car and jogged towards the main house. The back door leading to the kitchen I knew would be open, so I started there. I was still in the jeans and T-shirt I’d worn yesterday, so I hoped I wasn’t too gross for what I figured would be hours of groveling.

  I made my way through the kitchen, to the living room, and up the massive staircase and swung left down the hall toward Ashleigh’s door.

  “What in the hell are you doing here?”

  I swung around only to find Mr. Landen himself, in a robe and slippers, coming out of what I assumed was his bedroom. His face was bright red and his nose looked a little swollen. The bags under his eyes were dark and puffy. He didn’t look like the sophisticated gentleman I’d always thought of him as. Instead he looked wrecked.

  “Sorry, Mr. Landen. I was coming to apologize to Ashleigh.”

  “What for?”

  He didn’t know. He didn’t know Ash had asked me to go to prom. Given I wasn’t his favorite person, I considered lying, but something told me it was time for him to get over whatever issues he had with me being around his daughter. Especially now that she was almost an adult.

  We were going to be at college together next semester.

  “I was supposed to be her escort to the prom last night, but I got detained. Car troubles.”

  Because I was not going to tell him I spent the night in jail.

  “Just as friends, of course,” I added. “But I’m sure she was disappointed. My phone battery died so I didn’t have a chance to explain what happened.”

  His eyes narrowed and I felt like he was struggling to think. Then he nodded gravely, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “Ah, so you were the reason she was so upset. Beside herself, really. I couldn’t reason with her. In fact, she was so distraught I thought it made sense to send her away.”

  The upset part I bought. Distraught? I’d finally read her texts. Listened to her voicemail. She’d sounded more resigned than distraught.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, feeling like I’d just missed something important. “Did you say you sent her away? Because she was upset?”

  “Somewhere she could clear her head. Given how muggy it’s been here, I thought someplace sh
e could breathe easier would be good for her, too. George was unavailable, so I called for a cab and sent her to the airport a few hours ago.”

  Ash wasn’t here.

  She was gone because her father had the kind of money that purchasing a last-minute trip, including airfare, meant nothing to him.

  I was feeling something. Something turbulent. Like something that had been in my control was suddenly out of my control, and I didn’t like it. But I knew well enough not to show that emotion. Any emotion. Not with Landen.

  “Well, I’m very sorry I upset her. I’ll come back and apologize when she returns. Do you know when that will be?”

  “Couldn’t say. I told her to stay as long as she wants.”

  I didn’t mention the semester started in a few months. I didn’t mention her birthday was in just a couple of weeks. I simply nodded and started down the hallway toward the massive staircase.

  “Oh, and Campbell,” Landen said as I passed him. “Don’t ever enter this house uninvited again.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said in my most respectful tone. The one I’d used growing up to hide the angry monster inside me.

  As soon as I was out of the house, I pulled out my phone. I’d read her texts and listened to her voicemail on the car ride from the police station. To give me a sense of what I was walking into.

  Ash: Hey, getting a little nervous. Are you close?

  Ash: Okay, I would say you are now officially late. Please tell me there is a reason.

  Ash: You’re not coming, are you?

  Then, finally, her voicemail. Her father had described her as being distraught. That’s not what she sounded like.

  I listened to it again.

  “Hey, Marc. I don’t know if this was intentional or not. If this was you finding another way to lash out and making me the target. Or if you’re sitting in a ditch somewhere unconscious…could you just…could you just let me know? I’m worried and hurt. If you’re safe, I would rather just be hurt. Anyway, your loss. I looked really nice tonight.”

  She was worried. She’d been in the process of being stood-up, but she was still worried about me. Not angry. Not distraught. Her message didn’t tell me to go fuck myself. Her texts didn’t call me out for being an asshole.

  I’d ruined her prom and still she’d been worried for me.

  Staring at my phone, I thought of what I might say. How I could make this right. The most important thing I needed to know was where she was. I couldn’t stand the not knowing. It’s like, suddenly, my world was off kilter, and everything was crooked.

  Me: Ash, call me. I didn’t stand you up. It was a series of fuck-ups, but I didn’t not come on purpose. I came to the house to apologize, but your dad says you’re gone. I need to know where you are. That you’re okay.

  I waited a while, but there was nothing. Then I remembered she was on a plane. Taking her someplace far away from me.

  I didn’t like it.

  11

  Ashleigh

  I read Marc’s text as soon as I landed in Phoenix. There was a certain relief in knowing he hadn’t stood me up to hurt me, plus a sense of ease knowing he wasn’t hurt. I didn’t know what the series of fuck-ups were, and I’m not sure it mattered.

  I got off the plane and made my way to the baggage carousel. There was a man in a suit holding a sign with my name on it. I got my suitcase, ignored the man, and made my way outside where I called an Uber.

  It was petty, and maybe stupid, because it’s not like Arthur wouldn’t see the record on his credit card statement, although he wouldn’t necessarily know where I’d gone. Still, refusing his assigned driver felt like a rejection of him and that felt good.

  I’d listened to him cry outside my door for hours last night, saying he was sorry. Then early this morning he’d knocked, and, since I knew I had to face him at some point, I opened the door.

  “Did you use to hit my mother?”

  It was the first thing I asked him, because it was the one thing I’d wanted to know as I lay in bed listening to him cry. It occurred to me it wasn’t a natural thing for a man to hit a woman. There was so much conditioning around the fact they were physically stronger and had to check that strength around women.

  Violence toward women was a major social taboo, which, of course, a lot of men broke. But in my opinion, it wasn’t something a man did only once. If you were the kind of person who decided hitting someone else was okay, then you hit people. If you were a man who could kick your daughter while she was on the floor, then maybe you’d also done that before.

  His face had gone white in that moment. I could almost see the age he tried so hard to hide fall over his face.

  He swallowed and told me about a resort in Sedona instead. I didn’t know if he couldn’t answer because I’d shamed him horribly, or because he was guilty.

  He told me a car was coming to pick me up. He’d booked a one-way flight to Phoenix. A driver would be waiting to take me to the resort. This would be good for me, he’d said. Good for us. His way of apologizing, while giving me the space I needed to find forgiveness.

  All I heard was…away.

  Where George wouldn’t see the bruise on my cheek. Where I couldn’t deal with Marc.

  The Uber driver pulled up to the sidewalk and got out to open his trunk.

  “It’s a six-hour drive,” I reminded him as he stuffed my suitcase into his trunk. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

  Miguel, according to the app, simply smiled. “Yeah, I figure there’s got to be a hell of a tip in that for me. And I’ve got nothing to do today.”

  I smiled back and got in the backseat. It felt like freedom. Arthur wanted me to go to Sedona. But I wanted to go somewhere else. Somewhere I chose.

  It’s not like Arthur would even care.

  “You know they have airports in San Diego,” Miguel said, smiling in his rearview mirror.

  “I wanted to take the scenic route,” I said.

  “Yeah, well, I hope you like the desert because that’s about all you’re going to see for a long time.”

  I looked out the window at the vastness of the space and sky. Brown and flat as far as the eye could see. So different from green New Jersey, it felt like I was in another country.

  “I love it,” I said.

  Then I laid my head back against the seat, closed my eyes and wondered what came next.

  I didn’t like that I was running away. George needed me. Marc needed me. Arthur, because that’s how I would refer to him in my head for the rest of my life, also needed me.

  What he’d done was unforgiveable, but he’d been drunk. I couldn’t discount that his impairment had played a factor in his actions. Something had been off with him for months, I knew that. Was it just the alcohol, or whatever had driven him to the alcohol? If I was any kind of daughter, I would try to help him. I was the only family he had.

  Right? .

  Did he hit my mother? The thought whispered to me from the back of my brain, justifying my decision to walk away from an alcoholic or not.

  It didn’t seem rational. He was older than her by almost twenty years. She’d been his second wife; he’d had no children with his first. I was fairly certain he didn’t want me at first, based on comments he’d made in the past about me being a sudden surprise.

  My father was stiff. Formal. Absent a lot. Not once had I ever seen him violent.

  I was four when my mother died. Arthur said it was complications due to medicine she’d been taking.

  God, now that I thought of it, did that mean an overdose? Suicide?

  These scary facts had always been right there and I didn’t once, never once asked anyone the hard questions.

  Because I was a princess sheltered in my castle.

  That’s what Marc would have said. I hated he was right.

  My phone started buzzing in my purse. I pulled it out and saw it was Arthur. The driver must have reported my absence. I didn’t answer. Not because I was trying to hide from him, I just wanted s
pace. My space. Not his space.

  A trip to San Diego, not Sedona. Something I chose for myself instead of what he wanted. I’d booked a last-minute VRBO condo in the Gaslamp Quarter and was going to stay for however long I wanted to stay.

  Let my cheek clear up. Figure out a way to move past what Arthur had done. Then I would go home and start college in the fall.

  With Marc.

  Marc, who’d had a series of fuck-ups last night. He didn’t even know how much those fuck-ups changed my life. Least of which was ruining my prom.

  * * *

  Landen estate, Harborview

  Marc

  This was killing me. I was walking around the property to blow off steam. George had complained my pacing around the carriage house was annoying the shit out of him. Except I couldn’t stop. I kept going over and over the whole day. What I’d screwed up. What I should have done differently.

  I’d borrowed the fucking car to avoid any risks of delayed trains. I’d been thinking about not screwing it up. Before I screwed it up.

  She wouldn’t call me. She wouldn’t text me. It had been twenty-four hours. I felt in my gut something was up. This didn’t feel like Ashleigh. Whenever I’d pissed her off before, she fired right back at me. She was not someone who ran off crying in a corner.

  Except for that one time when I almost killed her.

  Still, that was years ago. This version of Ash was made of sterner stuff. Which is why the whole premise of needing a trip to get away from what I’d done didn’t make sense.

  I asked her why she left. I asked her where she was.

  Nothing.

  Then when George got home last night after preparing Landen’s dinner, he’d told me Landen had been asking him strange questions.