by Elena Monroe
Caden laughed, wondering how the most important person in the room was still a mystery to my toddler. I turned us both towards Layla as my eyebrows raised up and down, trying to prepare her for this moment that I wasn’t shying away from. She excused herself from my mom to inch towards us, leaning forward and making eye contact with him, after I nodded, encouraging her.
“Hi, I’m Layla, I’m... I’m a friend of your dad’s.”
I petted his messy hair back into place as I whispered into his intoxicating pure smell, “She’s very special to me… like you.”
Arson shifted to look up at me, while still in my lap, before he stood up and made his way to Layla, pushing out his hand. “I’m Arson, like fire.”
He was repeating what I had told him about his name, trying to impress her. She smiled even bigger at him, shaking his hand. Everything about this moment made me smile. I looked at Caden and said, “Watch Arson for a minute. I wanna check her room.”
I let my hand smooth down his hair, while he explained his car specs to Layla, as I left the living room. I stalked up the stairs to the guest room, pushing her door open, which she normally locked if she left the house. Nothing looked out of place or suspect enough for me to look at anything twice. I thumbed through a notebook by her bed, looked in a few drawers, and even looked under the bed for safe measure. I came up empty handed, and I gave up, making my way to my room. I sunk into my bed and reached for my phone out of my back pocket. My fingers automatically found Jade’s number.
It rang three times without any answer. I wasn’t even sure if I should be concerned. She was never unreachable to me before. How unsure I was made me open my text messages and typed a simple You okay? before sending. I looked around the room for clues outside of her own space, when the gold vacuum I kept on my shelf was moved to hold up an envelope with my name on it. My chest felt tight, as I plucked it off my shelf and leaned against the desk in my room, while I pulled out the delicate paper.
Ollie,
I tried really hard to fit myself into this normal life with you and our son, but every day I’ve felt like a fraud.
I am so proud of you for overcoming everything you’ve been through to be exactly what our son needs. I wish I was capable of being more than what I am. It took me a long time to accept exactly who I am, for better or worse. I can’t hate myself every day, just because people need me to.
Arson is better off with you, and now that I know you are after Layla again, I feel even better about my decision. She can be what he needs. Don’t mess that up. Keep him safe and love him, like he has set the world on fire, just to keep you warm.
I crumpled the paper up in my fist and brought my knuckles to my mouth to slow my breathing. I felt every part of me ache with confusion and anger all at once, making the organ in my chest feel dangerous, like a bomb counting down, until it was going to blow, splattering my insides like the poison she was. She abandoned our son. No, she abandoned me—the person who took care of her just as much as I did Arson, because she gave birth to him. I tossed the paper on the floor, knowing the rest of her bullshit words didn’t hold much value, and now they were worthless to me.
With one sole purpose, I went back downstairs before I was mentally even ready. I couldn’t pretend to hide this, even if I tried. I held out my phone in Layla’s vision and demanded from her the only connection to Jade: Hunter’s number.
“Hunter’s number. Now, Layla.”
Her delicate fingers took my phone and punched in his number without having to look it up. I was actively trying not to be mad for another reason, like her knowing his number by heart. I took my phone back and walked out the front door. I needed more privacy than one floor gave me; I kept walking through the opening, which led to my parent’s manicured backyard. I listened closely as it rang, and I waited for Hunter to answer.
“Who’s this?” I heard him bark on the other end. He had as much pleasantry as I did on the phone. I would expect more, especially if I was a prospective buyer.
“Jade is MIA. I need you to text her.”
I was hoping he recognized my voice without me having to say it. That alone was like some sort of defeat on top of having to go to him. The line went silent, and for a moment, I thought it disconnected.
“Hunter?”
He sounded drowsy this time. “I heard you. Why can’t you text her?”
Testing my patience wasn’t a smart idea, then again, Hunter wasn’t full of any ideas that weren’t meant to rub me wrong. “She’s not responding.”
Hunter quipped, “Maybe she’s busy?”
My tone was strained, annoyed, and increasingly louder this time. “God damnit, Hunter! She left a fucking note. She’s not gonna just show back up after that.”
Their friendship was something fierce—loyal even. She told him about Arson before me, and Hunter was, as of recently, fucking her when Layla wasn’t under him. They were closer than met the eye.
“What? What do you mean by ‘note’?”
I sighed heavily at his ability to repeat things without adding any value to the conversation. “Just text her, Hunter. Remind her she has a son she was raising recently.” Before I hung up, I heard him say to someone else, “Not now, Ad.” At least he was staving off sex so he could take this as seriously as I needed him to.
Arson needed two parents. I wasn’t whole enough to give him everything he needed. He had a better chance with two broken halves.
I went back inside, trying to control my temper, as I sat on the couch between my mom and Layla, who was entertaining Arson. He looked at me with a sense of awareness I wasn’t expecting, and his small hand landed on my knee. “Don’t be sad, Daddy.”
Maybe I wasn’t as good at concealing everything under the surface as I thought.
Letting my fingers trace his small fingers, I smiled at him, pushing what I was feeling further down. My mom sat up quickly and offered to make Arson some lunch in her kitchen, giving us some time to talk without censoring ourselves. I nodded at her gesture, accepting, and I kissed his soft hair.
“Go with Grandma, okay? No TV while you eat. I’ll be over there in a few minutes.”
Arson nodded with his innocent chocolate eyes, lips he’d grow into, and hair that was never in control. He was perfect, and Jade couldn’t bring herself to be his mom. She had one commitment. Yah, it wasn’t easy, but we didn’t have a choice. He needed us.
My mom’s hand skimmed my shoulder behind me. “I’m really glad you guys are here for Thanksgiving. Oliver, please don’t forget about tonight’s annual party.”
I did forget, and for good reason. I had a rescinded invitation permanently locked down since I showed up drunk with Caden in high school. We made fools of ourselves and my parents. Since then, I never attended again.
As soon as my mom left, leaving behind my dad, Layla jumped to ask me what was wrong, while I wondered why he hadn’t left yet. I eyed him out of the corner of my eye, just soaking everything up that he could. That summed up our interactions after I found out about my son.
I glared at him, connecting my elbows to my knees. “Is there a reason you’re still here?”
The version of Richard I got after our rekindling in his office was somewhere between his heavy hand and a broken man, mourning his son. Now he was patient and quiet. I wondered if he was waiting for me to fall off the proverbial wagon, breaking him all over, until the process only concluded with him not mourning anymore, but accepting my death—real or not.
“You seem upset,” his strong, smooth, voice husked out, without any cruelty laced between the words. This new sensitive Richard put me on edge. I’d rather have the one that I could read more easily.
“I’m upset. I’m not gonna go find drugs again, damn. I can be upset, and it not be the end of my sobriety.”
He didn’t even push forward in the chair. He stayed in his relaxed position, cradling his cigar like my feelings.
“No one said that, Oliver. I’m here to support you.”
&nbs
p; He didn’t even push for answers or ask a question. He was literally decoration, listening in, and it irritated me.
“I have Arson now. I’m sober and staying that way, regardless of Jade and her bullshit.”
Layla’s fragile hand landed on my thigh, when her worried expression asked what happened before her mouth could. I looked down before holding up the piece of paper I mutilated by crumpling it with of my fury. I refused to be sad over this. She wanted to leave, then good fucking riddance. It was Arson who needed a mother, and she wasn’t capable.
I watched Layla read the letter with her fingers clamped over her mouth to keep from reacting more loudly. After she read it, she folded it back up to its previous state, like it held my feelings all over it and she had to be just as delicate with it. That white piece of lined paper didn’t hold anything but bullshit excuses and proved how much I couldn’t trust Jade.
Caden pushed his fingers through his hair, processing everything with wide eyes and a sense of discomfort I could easily recognize in him. It wasn’t typical that anything shook his casual comfort.
Layla leaned in. With her fingertips grazing my jeans, she said, “I’m here for you.”
Well, at least she wasn’t running.
I t had been a week since Oliver found the note that acted like a placeholder for Jade’s goodbye. I couldn’t convince him to start texting, so we settled for phone calls before bed until the weekend hit, and it was easier to see each other. My phone buzzed against the counter, and I had to stop myself from lunging to pick up his call. Maddison’s judgment and small laugh stopped me, when I realized she stopped venting about Aspen at the same time.
“Nightly call?”
I laughed, realizing when it came to Oliver nothing else mattered. I rolled my eyes, snatching my phone off the counter, and went to my room, as I pressed the pad of my finger to the green button. He didn’t waste any time when his sleepy voice pushed out my name. I didn’t even turn on the light in my room, as I snuck under my blankets and got comfortable.
My “Hi…” sounded soaked in need and desire without trying. I put the phone on speaker and laid it against my chest.
“This relationship is getting to be a nuisance for me.”
My heart fluttered with the thought that the two-hour distance was becoming too much for him. I bit my tongue; if I didn’t respond, then I couldn’t justify the over-thinking happening in my head.
“I was summoned to Leon’s bachelor party. He didn’t want me to feel left out, since I’m your boyfriend.”
My clamped lips couldn’t hold in my laugh for shit, and it exploded right into the speaker of my phone.
“It’s not funny, Layla. It’s gonna be hell. It’s Leon; it’s gonna be strippers and a booze tour.”
My nose scrunched up in disgust of visioning all the Sinners in a room with Leon and strippers. It didn’t sound appealing, even with the allure of naked girls.
“Ew. Really? Liz is just having a slumber party. Very PG-13.”
She was dreading not being able to drink for her bachelorette party. She was pretty irate about a lot these days: sleeping comfortably, eating sushi, walking without her back hurting, the morning sickness that hadn’t faded like the books told her it would. She was going to be a pregnant bride, and nothing topped the anger of that fact.
“Well, Liz can’t drink. I certainly can and will in order to make it through that night.”
His voice sounded heavy, and it was lulling me to sleep with every syllable.
I woke up with my phone vibrating against my chest, snatching me from the deep sleep I was in automatically. A photo of Liz and I filled the background of my phone, as it did every time she called—a feature she implemented the second week of college, and I never changed it. I swiped my finger along the phone and focused on the time displayed: 7:30 in the morning, on a Saturday.
Normally, I would be up already, but something about Oliver being mine again made me take care of myself better than before. Now I let myself sleep, instead of waking up early just to mope by myself about every new day that pushed us further apart.
Liz’s voice was already awake and robust, “The venue called! They have a cancellation for next month. Can we pull that off?”
I wasn’t her official wedding planner, but I was with her every step when she fired three separate ones before, which just threw more tasks my way. It had been a needed distraction from my loneliness that Hunter wasn’t able to fill, because the emptiness wasn’t surface level; it ran down deep into my heart and soul. It was something that only Oliver, or closure, could fix.
“Sure, everything is pretty much planned. It’s just the bachelor and bachelorette parties we have to worry about. All those arrangements are further out.”
“Leon can change his little NYC trip if it means me not being as pregnant in our wedding photos. Text me. I’m gonna go threaten my future husband.”
I don’t know who would be brave enough to say no to Liz. Even the handful of times I had seen her cry, it was still powerful and consuming. Her tears demanded you to be strong right along with her. I let her hang up, and I placed my phone on the counter, as I brushed my teeth, contemplating how busy I was going to be outside of the bookstore. Old title: Best Friend and Bookstore Manager. New title: Liz’s Bitch 2.0.
The walk to the bookstore felt refreshing; the cold pinching my exposed skin didn’t bother me one bit. It became the one thing I loved about New England—the transition between cold and hot. When the opposites danced in the same space, flirted almost, and we got to watch the seasons of their love.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, but that required carefully removing my glove and letting my fingers freeze just to see who it was. I ignored it, and that guilty feeling rumbled my ribcage. I had ignored Hunter’s desperate pleas to talk for days now. I didn’t know how to break his heart. I knew exactly how that felt—the tragic steps that come after when you mourn someone you can’t have and the strength it takes just to get through to the next day, on day at a time, one moment at a time… That kind of break wasn’t meant for the weak; it took a certain amount of strength to carry—one I didn’t know I had.
I was listening to the new Halsey when a car beside me was going abnormally slow, until I saw it was a matte black Mustang that I knew too well. I debated ignoring him, but he now sunk to the low level of stalking me.
“I know you’re ignoring me, Layla.”
I had turned down Halsey, just on the off chance that he did say something. I knew him too well; he was a constant map of mistakes I always seemed to consult in moments of weakness. I stopped walking without turning around as his car pulled up further, lining up with me.
“Anyone tell you that you run away when shit gets tough? I know where you live, work, and pretty much every move you make—even that weird-ass coffeeshop you sneak off to on Sunday mornings.”
I never understood love triangles; the concept made my chest ache with confusion for the characters going through that. Now I understood how easy it was to get caught between tall, dangerous, and handsome. Times two. Both held different parts of me hostage, and I had to choose which parts I wanted to hold on to more. There was no salvaging both, not with two men involved.
I slowly turned towards Hunter, who was vying for honesty, and I hoped he didn’t need me to finish my thoughts.
“I don’t wanna hurt you. I care about you.”
He smirked at me, like no one ever had the pleasure of being able to hurt him, not even me. He let his head jerk towards the inside of his car, beckoning me inside, and my feet moved towards him, before my head or mind could debate it. I slid against the taut leather seats, dropping my bag to the floor, like I had so many times before. I didn’t speak; instead, I was patiently waiting for any clues to how this would go.
His hand landed on my thigh. “Work, right?”
Pulling off the curb he drove the route I walked in half the time, even with all the red lights. It was a quiet ride; I focused on the music that was t
urned down so low I made it a game of “Name that Tune”. When he parked in the back lot, for employees only, a smile replaced my stoic lips. Once a ruler breaker, always a rule breaker. He turned off his car and let his head drop back onto the headrest, until he let it fall my direction, making eye contact.
“It’s not hurt. You aren’t hurting me. No one does that, babe. It’s just losing, and I’m a sore loser.”
He was taking this really well, and none of that made me feel better about this. I still felt like I was rejecting the one person who was there for me when Oliver wasn’t anymore. I still felt the sour taste of choosing the pieces Oliver held hostage. I still felt guilty for whatever damage Hunter was covering up with his witty sense of humor.
“I’m sorry. I wanted it to be you. You were there for me this whole time, and I tried—”
“Don’t lie, babe. We never did that before, so let’s not start now. It’s always been Oliver.”
I sat back further, hoping the seat would just swallow me whole already. He leaned forward producing a lighter and joint from the center console, speaking around its slender body between his lips. I watched him inhale bigger than he normally did, and holding it in longer too—his version of putting on rose-colored glasses. He used to tell me it made everything look nicer, made the world more bearable, and gave everything a photoshopped finish. He hated seeing the reality. He knew exactly how ugly it was; he needed to escape not vividly remember.
He twisted between the seat and steering wheel, with his elbow pushing him forward, towards me. I didn’t expect his lips to touch mine so lightly that I barely tasted him this time. His forehead touched mine, and he whispered between us. “This isn’t goodbye. I’m not Oliver, I’m not letting you live without me. Now go kick some ass in there.”
I bit my lip, wondering how he still didn’t give up on me, how he didn’t mind hanging around, like a second best trophy. Whatever it was, I loved him for it.