According to a Source

by Abby Stern

  The way she bites me with the word darling makes me yearn for the way Victoria says it. I take a moment to process everything she’s saying and she’s right, there are consequences to our actions. I may have told her secret but I didn’t force her to have an affair with a married man. Those were her actions and they have consequences just like mine. I know that I deserve to incur some of her wrath but she has some misplaced anger with the situation as well. She can’t blame this whole thing on me, but bringing this up would be cruel.

  “Do you know what the worst part of this whole thing is?” This is clearly a rhetorical question, as she doesn’t give me a second to answer. “You can’t even own it and take responsibility for your actions. I’d have more respect for you if you said, ‘Holiday, I did what I had to do and your secret was the only one I had. I’m sorry but I was in a pinch and I made a decision. It was the wrong decision but I made it.’ With you it’s never your fault because you were ‘tricked.’ Guess what? You always have a choice. You just always make the wrong choices and then blame everyone else.” I let her continue berating me without interrupting. It’s the very least I can do for her right now. “You are the most selfish person I’ve ever met, and coming from me I hope you take that as intended—as a scathing insult. You chose your job over everyone: Ethan, me—even your sick mother. You always joke that when you go to work you become Bella, but guess what, you are Bella. It’s Ella who doesn’t exist anymore.”

  I hear Tristan interrupt on her end of the conversation. “What the hell is this Google alert I just got about you, Holiday?”

  “If you’ll excuse me I have to deal with the mess you made of my life. I think that it goes without saying, but since it’s you I’m dealing with I am going to just bloody well say it. I want you to move out of my house and I don’t want you to leave a trace of your existence behind. Don’t call me. Don’t text me. Unfollow me on social media. From this moment on we are done. I’m sure your mother will be so proud of you,” she shrieks, making sure to hammer that last nail into my coffin before she hangs up.

  I somehow manage to make my way to my room and don’t wake up until hours later to the sound of the doorbell beeping every second.

  “Jesus, Ella, you look like hell.” Nick gives me the once-over.

  “I kind of passed out after I called Holiday.” I feel light-headed and really want to go to the kitchen for some water but figure I better stay where I am and continue this conversation.

  “She called me right after. She had to skip rehearsal today, she was so upset.” I search his face for an iota of compassion but there is none.

  “I need to move out of here ASAP and she doesn’t want to be friends with me anymore.”

  Nick does his signature shrug. “Can you blame her?” His calm demeanor is making our conversation and me feel worse. I wish he would just yell at me and get his anger out so we could move past this. He’s still standing outside.

  “Do you want to come in?” I ask.

  “No, I can’t stay.” I look down at the porch and stare at his oxfords because my intuition tells me that what I don’t want to happen is about to happen. “I wanted to do this in person.”

  “You don’t have to say anything else, Nick. I get it, we’re over, too. Message received.” I move to close the door.

  “I don’t want to do this, Ella.”

  “Then don’t,” I beg and try to throw my arms around him, but he takes a step back and takes in the hurt look on my face. He takes a breath and sits on the porch step and pats the ground, motioning for me to sit next to him. My tears haven’t slowed down but I join him.

  “This isn’t only about Holiday. If word gets out that it was my girlfriend who gave The Life the story I could lose all of my clients.” He looks out toward the view of Los Angeles that makes this Mount Olympus property so expensive. It’s agonizing looking down at the lights of the city filled with beauty and hope when I feel empty up here.

  “And they’re more important than I am?” Older Multi-Oscar-Winning Womanizer’s words are coming back to haunt me.

  “No, of course not. El, I care about my job just like you care about yours.” He stares out and I can tell he’s doing it to stay composed. I desperately want him to look at me. “I never asked you to give up what made you happy for me because I didn’t like it. Even if I take my clients’ feelings out of the equation, tell me how I’m supposed to trust you?” He finally turns to look at me, waiting for my answer.

  “You can trust me, Nick. You know me. I told you what happened. This was all a huge mistake.” Why can’t anyone understand? I feel like I keep yelling at the top of my lungs but nobody hears me.

  “El, I believe you.”

  “You do?” I catch my breath.

  “I don’t think you’re a malicious person. I believe that you didn’t mean to tell Victoria about Holiday, but you did, and that’s a huge problem. I don’t feel I can trust you.”

  I vigorously shake my head. “You don’t mean that,” I tell him.

  “I wish I didn’t. But it’s always going to be in the back of my mind. What happens one day when you overhear me talking to a client or I bring you to a business dinner where confidential information is being discussed and The Life gives you another ultimatum and you accidentally slip again? If you did it to Holiday I’d have to be an idiot to believe you wouldn’t do the same to me.” He looks down at his hands and I feel my heart plummet into my stomach.

  “You said you cared about me. That you could see yourself with me in the future.” I can’t even look at him right now. If I looked in his eyes all I’d see is the life that we both said we wanted to share together being shattered.

  “I do, but I … I can’t do this.” He gets up and places his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry.” His mind is made up. He walks to his Tesla and before he gets in, looks back at me. I watch him drive away.

  Just then I realize I never talked to my mom and I feel even worse.

  Twenty-three

  I called Jessica, hysterical after the dissolution of two of my most important relationships outside of my family. I’m surprised she could decipher any of what I said during my tear-fueled rambling but she managed to put the pieces together and even offered to help me pack so I can be out of Holiday’s faster. Thank God I still have one friend left.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to stay with me for a bit while you get back on your feet?”

  “That’s really sweet but I think I’ve hit my quota on staying with girlfriends who are trying to help me out of a bind.” She understands. “I love you for offering, though.”

  “Where are you going to go?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve looked at a few places that are okay. I’ll decide soon. I have a few weeks before Holiday comes back to LA for her hiatus but I want to have everything packed up so I can move as soon as I sign a new lease. I know she’s technically in another country but I can feel her hostile energy in every room in this house.” I haven’t been paying rent so I have enough for a basic apartment, security deposit, and first and last month’s rent.

  She continues folding my clothes, neatly placing them in boxes, then goes over to my closet and returns with another pile of clothes.

  “This is the last of it,” she says.

  “Thank you.” I stare at my empty walk-in closet.

  “It’s no problem, really. It’s oddly therapeutic packing for other people and I’m procrastinating on a new blog entry anyhow.”

  “No. I mean thank you for still being my friend. Thank you for not hating me.”

  “Look, what you did was fucked up but nobody hates you.”

  I know Jess is trying to mollify me but I’m not buying her theory. “Yes, they do! Holiday hates me. Nick hates me. Hell, even my own sister hates me! For her own different reasons, but still…”

  “For what it’s worth, I don’t think Holiday hates you.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “She’s really, really angry with you and I wouldn’t
count on her as an organ donor, but I don’t think she hates you.”

  “Her internal organs are just as damaged as mine are anyway.” I sigh.

  Jess grabs my hand. “Good. Whenever you’re going through a breakup and you make a joke it means you’re starting to heal.”

  “What’s the step after that?” I wonder.

  “Actually moving on. That’s the tricky part.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Think of it like this, you can’t change anything you’ve already done. All you can do is move forward. Live your life. Try to find a way to make things right. She may not forgive you but at least you’ll know that you tried.”

  I stare at my paltry boxes. “You make it sound so easy.”

  “Oh, it’s gonna be a bitch. But once you become the person you want to be you won’t punish yourself for your past mistakes anymore.”

  I collapse on my bed and stare at the ceiling.

  “You want to grab dinner tonight?” Jessica offers.

  “I can’t. I’m having family dinner at my sister’s house and then going to work. Later this week?” Seeing as how I have no boyfriend anymore my schedule is remarkably clear.

  “Sure. Let me know if you need anything in the meantime.” Jess gives me a hug and leaves. Her compassion and lack of criticism make me want to cry as much as Holiday’s contempt and Nick’s disappointment in me, not to mention my mother’s illness and my strained relationship with Robin. I’m not sure what I’m feeling right now so I’m feeling everything.

  * * *

  Robin pulls me aside when I arrive for dinner.

  “How are you holding up?” She seems genuinely concerned and I’m confused.

  “I’m fine.”

  Her expression tells me she doesn’t believe me. “Are you sure?”

  I shrug my shoulders, not knowing what she wants from me. This definitely wasn’t the welcome I was expecting. “What are you talking about?” I blurt out.

  “Ella, come on. You text me to keep an eye out for apartment listings and Mom showed me the article from The Life. I put two and two together.”

  The only thing I can do is sigh. “I really don’t want to talk about it right now, okay?”

  “That’s fine. I just wanted to let you know that if you want to save money and need a place to stay, there’s room for you here.”

  “That’s a nice offer but you have a full house with Mom as it is.” Robin is slightly offended that I rebuff her and though we’ve been getting along a little bit better lately, I don’t think that removing the buffer between us would have a positive effect on our relationship. It would be a horrible idea, but in an attempt to maintain the semblance of peace we’ve found, I lie. “It’s really nice of you. I’ll think about it.”

  “The offer is on the table.” Her eyes dart to the wall. “There’s something else,” she adds, pausing. “Mom’s counts aren’t improving. If they don’t show a significant amount of improvement the next time she has blood work done, Dr. Jacobs is going to put her back in the hospital. And aside from her not being here, it’s not a good sign.”

  “How bad is it?” I ask.

  “I know you’re going through a lot so let’s just leave it at ‘really not good.’”

  We may not be BFF’s, but Robin still knows me pretty well and can tell that the news rustled up my emotions and I’m about to cry.

  “Please don’t,” she pleads. “I don’t want Mom to worry more than she already is or be concerned about our feelings, okay?” I nod. “If you want to talk, I’m happy to one-on-one but the only thing I want Mom focused on is herself.”

  Robin takes my hand and leads me into the dining room. Marianna has her favorite teddy bear, aptly named Bear, seated next to her.

  “Aunt Ella, you’re next to me! Bear was just saving your spot for you.”

  “Thank you, Bear.”

  Marianna moves him to her lap.

  “Now, Ella, when am I going to get to meet this handsome, charming beau of yours. I’m not going to be around forever you know, I do have cancer—”

  “Mom! That’s not even funny,” Robin chides.

  “Oh, come on! If I can’t have a sense of humor about it what’s the point of having a potentially fatal disease.” She laughs Robin’s criticism off.

  “Actually we aren’t seeing each other anymore,” I tell her.

  “Why not?” She looks disappointed, and even if Robin put the puzzle together it doesn’t mean I need to clue my mom in.

  “It just didn’t work out.” I’m not offering any additional details. I don’t want to relive another breakup again.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s his loss. He didn’t know what he had.” If only she knew that the problem was that he knew exactly what he had and that’s why he ended it. “Jeff, this dinner smells divine. Don’t be insulted if I don’t finish,” my mother requests, changing the subject as he puts a whole roasted chicken and green salad on the table.

  “Thanks, Joan.” He places a hand on her shoulder. “What part of the bird would everyone like?”

  “Mom, why don’t you take the breast meat, since it’s nice and lean,” Robin suggests, and as soon as she does Marianna giggles. “Sweetie, what have I told you? Breast is not a bad word. It’s a part of the human anatomy.” Marianna giggles again as soon as the word breast comes out of Robin’s mouth and my sister chooses not to fight this particular battle tonight.

  My mother gets through half of her meal before resting her fork on the table.

  “You got through a lot of that, Mom. I’m impressed,” I tell her.

  When we finish I offer to clear the plates. As I lean over the kitchen sink I want to collapse and scream, but none of those are options right now. I just want one stable thing in my life, which would usually be my mother, and even though she seems to be doing well, cancer is unpredictable. Marianna comes running into the kitchen with her favorite book about a precocious mouse that loves baked goods.

  “Aunt Ella, can you read to me for story time tonight?”

  I look down at her flushed cheeks and can’t say no to her excited little face. “Sure.”

  She jumps up and down and raises the book above her head as if it were the holy gospel and screams, “Mommy! Mommy!”

  Robin comes rushing into the kitchen, now in her scrubs, thinking there’s an emergency. “Is everything okay?” She surveils the kitchen to make sure there are no fires or floods. She calms down (well, for her) when she sees there are no injuries or claims to make against her homeowner’s insurance policy.

  “Since you have to go to work, Aunt Ella is going to read to me tonight!”

  Robin looks genuinely surprised. “Ella, are you sure?” Her question is almost insulting.

  I roll my eyes and bite my tongue—to the best of my ability. “I think I can handle story time, Robin. But you better make sure to put away all of the matches and knives just in case.”

  “You don’t have to be so combative all the time. Jeeze. All I meant was I thought you had to go to work, too.”

  I pull my phone out of my back pocket. “It’s 8 P.M.”

  Robin stares at me, thinking she’s made her point, clueless as to what time a nightclub even opens anymore.

  “I think I’ll be okay.”

  “I know you don’t want to talk about it but do I need to worry about you?” she asks.

  “Robin, you have a daughter, husband, and our mother to worry about. You don’t need to add me to that list. I’m fine,” I tell her.

  “Well, then … perfect. I’m going to head out.”

  Marianna’s spirit dampens. “I don’t want you to go, Mommy.” Her voice is almost whiny but there’s more sadness than brattiness, and I bend down and hug my niece.

  “Do you know how much fun we’re gonna have, though?”

  Robin joins my bid to put a smile back on Marianna’s face. “Yeah. You get me all the time but tonight you have your cool aunt Ella to read to you.”

  Marianna takes this into considera
tion. I up the ante. “If you’re good, I’ll read you two stories.” That sends her into hyperactive, and her jumping and cheering become exponentially more vigorous. “Why don’t you go put your pj’s on and I’ll be right up.” Marianna doesn’t stop bouncing around as she dashes out of the kitchen like one of Santa’s reindeer, shouting as she’s en route.

  “’Night, Mommy!”

  Robin smiles. “Hey! Princess Marianna, get back here!” Marianna halts and her face drops, thinking she’s in trouble. Robin walks over to her. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Marianna squishes her face together, trying to think, but she’s definitely confused. Robin helps jog her memory. “Kiss…”

  “Oh, yeah!”

  “Kiss. Hug. Squeeze!” Robin playfully slaps her behind and Marianna zooms out of the room again and up the stairs until she’s out of sight.

  “Thanks for that. She’s been getting really upset recently when I leave.”

  “Of course. You know I’m crazy about the little strawberry.” Our moment is interrupted by my mom waltzing in, humming a song like she’s performing on Broadway. She clasps her hands together when she notices the tender vibe between Robin and me, and for her this is like peace in the Middle East.

  “Look at my beautiful girls!” She moves between us so she can curl her arms around us both at the same time. “My two working girls. I’m so proud of you both.” It’s almost hard to believe that us getting along can make her this happy. Robin looks at her watch.

  “Speaking of which, I better get going.” Robin kisses Mom on the cheek. “Call me if you need anything.” Knowing she can handle herself, my mom shoos her away. “See you soon, Ella.”

  I wave good-bye. My mom hugs me again and I hear Marianna’s little voice bellowing from upstairs.

  “Aunt Ella! I’m ready now!”

  “I’m being summoned,” I joke to my mom. “Good night.” I proceed upstairs and find Marianna tucked into her bed with not one, not two, but a pile of books on top of the covers. She might be little but she knows I’m terrible at saying no to her. She has the smile on her face to prove she’s won me over without having to say a word. She hands me the book she wants to start with and beams, clearly proud of herself. We finish the first book and the next one comes like it’s on a conveyor belt. And the next and the next. I’m losing steam and don’t realize we’ve passed out and I still have my arm around her until my phone buzzes in my pocket with a text from Jessica.