Hate to Love You

by Isabelle Richards

  Chapter Six

  Arianna

  “Where would you like to start today?” Dr. Clawson asks. “From my notes, we left off with you describing how your relationship transitioned. You can pick up there, or we can talk about something else.”

  I cross my legs at my ankles and smooth my skirt. “I suppose we should pick up where we left off.”

  “Okay,” she says in that shrinky voice that makes me want to run from the room. She skims through her notes, then places the pad on her lap. “You explained what happened, but I don’t think we explored why. At that point in your life, were you looking for a relationship?”

  “No. Not at all. I was practically the last virgin I knew, and that was by design. I didn’t want to complicate my life. Tennis demanded my complete focus, and I didn’t have time for a teenage drama fraught with complications. I wasn’t going to be one of those girls who had a sex tape released because she trusted the wrong guy. I would have been happy to wait till marriage to avoid that kind of disaster.”

  Dr. Clawson shifts and leans her elbow on her knee then rests her head on her hand. “Why do you think you chose then to have sex? Why Chase?”

  I look around the room as I formulate my answer. The walls are covered in nondescript, abstract paintings. I’m sure they’re supposed to be thought provoking, but I don’t see it. They remind me of bad paintings parents are suckered into buying at school fundraisers. “I’ve asked myself that a million times. Prior to that night, I didn’t have feelings for Chase—not like that anyway. He was nauseatingly good looking, but that was just one more reason for me to hate him.” Memories of that night flash through my thoughts as I try to remember what flipped the switch between love and hate. “I can’t even blame it on him. He kissed me, but I was the aggressor. I was pulling our clothes off. He tried to stop it, and I basically demanded he have sex with me. I wasn’t drunk. I wasn’t even horny. I honestly don’t know what came over me. Once he kissed me, it was like I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I had never felt like that before. I’d messed around with a few guys, but I’d never felt anything. With Chase, it was like something inside me came alive and would not be denied.”

  “How did you feel afterward?”

  I relax into the soft red sofa that I’m actually growing fond of. The cool leather is soothing. Dredging up these memories is flustering me, making me warm despite the blaring air conditioning. “It was perfect.” I sound more dreamy than I intend. “It wasn’t roses and champagne, but the way I felt... there are no words for how I felt or the high I got off those emotions. I couldn’t imagine feeling anything better. So I didn’t regret it. Not even for a second. When I woke up and he was still sleeping, it was possibly one of the most serene moments of my life. I felt like, for once, things were as they were supposed to be. It must have been because he was asleep and therefore couldn’t say anything to ruin it. But waking up in his arms was, and remains to be, the best thing I have ever felt. Even better than when I won the Grand Slam. There have been so many times lately that I wish I could go back there.”

  I want to forget that he could ever make me feel that good, that complete. If I can never have it again, what’s the point of remembering it so vividly? So I can be reminded of how everything else pales in comparison? I’ve spent the last two years trying to pretend it never happened, and that hasn’t gotten me anywhere. Maybe I need to relive it so that I can let go? I pour a glass of water, hoping to slow down the intensity of this session. I’m more comfortable with the therapeutic process, but this outpouring of emotions is still overwhelming.

  “So it was perfect when you woke up, but he was still asleep. What happened when he woke up? Did you step back into your previous roles of antagonizers?”

  I sip my water, preparing for this conversation. I’m not often wrong, and when I am, I certainly don’t like to be confronted about it. “We didn’t speak for almost two months.”

  She leans forward and rests her chin in her hand and her elbow on her knee. “Why was that?”

  “I had an early flight to catch, so I left,” I reply coolly.

  She gives me that condescending look that tells me I’m not fooling anyone. “You can avoid the question, or we can try to make progress.”

  I release a frustrated sigh. “I had a match later that day. I had to leave. I wasn’t just a seventeen-year-old kid—I was a professional tennis player. I had obligations that couldn’t be tossed aside just because I’d had a moment. I’m not sure what you’d like me to say.”

  She crosses her legs and sits up straight. “None of this is for me. I just want to help you find happiness Arianna. That can’t happen until you’re completely honest with yourself. Feeding me bullshit doesn’t help you get where you want to be. It just wastes our time. If I let you get away with it, you’ll be deluded into thinking you’re actually trying.”

  I glower at her. “Are you this compassionate with all your patients?”

  She chuckles. “Only the ones that I know can take it. You don’t tolerate bullshit from anyone, and I assume that means you won’t tolerate it from yourself either. So I push. Stop trying to protect yourself, because there is no judgment here. What happened?”

  “I was scared and horribly confused. That moment when I woke up was something I never thought I would ever experience, and I didn’t want him to take it from me. You have to understand, Chase has had girls throwing themselves at him since he hit puberty. Not just girls from school: college girls, teachers, our friends’ mothers. It was disturbing. A gaggle of them followed him to all his games. They called themselves the Brennan Babe Brigade. They even had T-shirts and a goddamn pin-up calendar. I don’t know all the sordid details, but he’d use them, and they’d still fall at his feet. It was pathetic.”

  I stop to take a drink of water, hoping I can get it down without gagging. Even after all this time, thinking about those women makes me ill. The cool glass helps settle my senses.

  I take a long sip before continuing. “I didn’t know what to do with those emotions, but I knew I didn’t want him to take them from me by treating me the way he’d treated them. We hated each other, so it was only a matter of time before he used it against me somehow, and I couldn’t bear the thought of him tarnishing something so precious. So I just went about my life. I had never called him while I was on tour before, so I didn’t see the point of changing my behavior. I wouldn’t be like those girls.”

  “You were scared and didn’t know what to do, so you ran to protect yourself. It’s fairly common.”

  “You make me sound like a coward,” I sneer.

  “Love is scary and intense and confusing,” Dr. Clawson replies in a soothing voice that makes me want to believe her. “At one time or another, we’re all cowards in the face of something unpredictable and unknown. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Fear isn’t a dirty word.”

  It is for an Aldrich. We’re incapable of fear.

  “How did Chase react?” she asks.

  “I avoided him. I didn’t answer his calls. I couldn’t bring myself to read his texts or listen to his messages. Whenever I saw his name on the caller ID, my mind raced with all the ways he could make me feel bad about what happened, and I just couldn’t do it.”

  She tucks a piece of her short, silver hair behind her ear. “Hmmm.”

  “Hmmmm back at you.”

  “I wonder how that made Chase feel?”

  “Oh, he was pissed,” I reply. “I took a few days off for Christmas, and I met our families at our house in the Bahamas. They had been there for weeks at that point celebrating Chase’s state championship win. When I arrived, I felt I was walking into enemy territory. But it was so much worse than I’d feared. He wouldn’t fight with me. Hell, he wouldn’t even look at me. I would have given anything to have it go back to the way we were before. Knock-down fights with him are worlds better than the cold shoulder. If I walked in the room, he left. When the family went on the boat, if I went, he wouldn’t go. He even avoided me
als by going surfing or running or something. It was a complete ice out. Polar vortex”

  “How did that make you feel?” she asks, jotting down a few notes.

  “Furious. Disappointed. Really confused. After about two days, I couldn’t take it anymore, so I left. I told Daddy I needed to prepare for my next tournament, and I hopped on the first flight I could get.”

  “Your father didn’t pick up that anything was wrong? He just let you leave?”

  “I travel nonstop for tennis. I’ve been doing it since I was thirteen. The Australian Open was coming up; leaving early to prepare was typical behavior for me. But remember, we aren’t discussing my parents or their parenting.”

  Dr. Clawson held up her hands. “We won’t talk about anything you don’t want to. So tell me, when did the two of you finally start speaking again?”

  “I came home to be with my father on the anniversary of my mother’s death. I flew in from Sydney and—”

  There’s a knock at the door, and a woman pokes her head in. “Dr. Clawson, you’re running about thirty minutes late.”

  “Time’s up.” I shrug. “We will have to get to that another time.”

  Dr. Clawson looks deflated, as if I’ve just left her with a massive cliffhanger. Everyone loves a train wreck.

  Chapter Seven

  January 30, 2010

  Portillo Valley, CA

  Arianna

  I should be sleeping, but instead, I’m staring at my ceiling fan. It’s hypnotic in my sleep-deprived state. I flew all night, and I’m dead tired, but I can’t seem to sleep. I lost my match and went straight to the airport. I didn’t catch a wink on the seventeen-hour flight.

  I shouldn’t have even played in the tournament. I should have been home. My heart just wasn’t in it, so it wasn’t a shock that I lost. I had no concentration. But my sponsor really wanted me there, so I went. I know Lawrence will make me watch the tape, and he’ll tear me apart when we get back to practice. I can take it as long as I don’t have to listen to the broadcast. I can just imagine the commentators spending the match comparing me to my mother. They love it when I lose so they can remind the world I’m not her. Especially this week. No, I’m not her, nor will I ever be. She existed in a whole different stratosphere, and I’ll never come close to her greatness. Despite what the world thinks, I’ve never wanted to replace my mother. I just wish I could be closer to her. When I’m on the court, I can almost feel her with me.

  I’d expected Daddy to meet me at the airport last night, but he wasn’t there. Maybe he’s disappointed in my loss. We usually spend today together. We can’t visit her grave or some of her favorite places. As much as we’d like to, they’re always a damn media circus. So we find a way to get through the anniversary of her death by leaning on each other.

  Daddy never came home last night, and I haven’t heard from him all day. Maybe now that I’m older, he thinks I don’t need him. If that’s the case, he couldn’t be more wrong. I need him now more than ever.

  The phone rang at nine a.m., just like it does every January 30th. I’m not sure how she keeps getting my number, but no matter how many times I change it, she still calls like clockwork. Money can buy anything, and her family has it by the boatload. I didn’t bother answering the call. I’ve heard it all. She’s so sorry. Please consider talking to the parole board. She’s better now, she promises. She doesn’t love Aiden anymore. Someone cruel enough to call and plead for forgiveness on the anniversary of when she publicly murdered Savannah Stevens has not changed and does not deserve forgiveness.

  I know better than to turn on the TV or the computer. The video will be everywhere. There should be laws against putting stuff like that on the news. It’s worse than a damn horror movie. I can’t help but think of Caroline Kennedy every November. The poor woman has to see the video of her father dying every stinking year. People watch documentaries about it with morbid fascination, completely ignoring the fact that he was someone’s parent. I may be one of the few people on the planet who can relate to that torturous pain. But at least the JFK film is grainy. Savannah was murdered on the field after the Super Bowl, and it was captured by hundreds of cameras from every imaginable angle. ESPN promised not show it anymore, but they’re the only ones. I suppose I should be grateful it was filmed before high def came around.

  I’m ripped away from the trance-inducing ceiling fan by a commotion downstairs. I drag myself out of bed and look at the clock. It’s after ten at night. I’ve spent the whole day alone.

  “Arianna! Are you here?” Pat yells.

  I was hoping it would be Daddy, but Pat will do. I don’t want to be alone, and Pat will let me curl into his arms. I pull on a bathrobe and walk downstairs just in time to see Pat carrying Daddy in.

  I gasp, smelling the alcohol from all the way upstairs. “Oh, Daddy.”

  “Ari, he’s had a rough one. Can you help me get him to bed?”

  “Of course.” I rush to Daddy’s other side to help support him. “Thank you for bringing him home.”

  We start the climb to the second story.

  “You’re basically an adult now,” Pat says. “I won’t sugarcoat it for you. He started drinking last night and only stopped when he passed out. He’s having a hard time this year.”

  Daddy leans into me, forcing me to strain not to collapse. My father is a big man. He’s 6’5” and well over two hundred twenty pounds of muscle. He feels like a thousand pounds of dead weight.

  “Yeah. Well. Me too,” I reply, not bothering to mask my disappointment.

  “I’m sorry, honey. I know you need him right now. I tried to get him to come home—”

  I hold up my free hand. “Pat, it is not your fault. Let’s just get him to bed. Okay?”

  Somehow we manage to get him to his room.

  “Do I have to worry about him, or will he just sleep it off?” I don’t have a lot of experience with alcohol or drunks.

  Pat shakes his head as we leave Daddy’s room. “He’ll just sleep it off. No need to worry. Do you want to come to our house? I hate for you to be alone today.”

  It’s tempting, but I’m not sure I really know how to be around anyone else. The Brennans wouldn’t expect anything from me, but I don’t know how to be anything but broken and numb today. Daddy’s the only one who understands that.

  “I need to be here in case he wakes up.” I give Pat a hug, which he turns into a massive bear hug. I collapse into him, desperate for his comfort.

  He scoops me up and carries me to the sitting room attached to my room. “Ari, you know I love you? You know I’m here for you?”

  “I know. You’re the world’s greatest second dad.”

  He sits me on the sofa. “Listen to me.” He pauses to make sure he has my attention. “He doesn’t mean to leave you alone. I swear. If he was in a place where he could think about that, he wouldn’t have taken a drink at all. He never wants to hurt you or let you down. He wants to be the best father he can be. If he knew you saw him like this, he would be crushed.

  “The sun rose and set with your mother. The whole world fell in love with her because she was the brightest, most charismatic, most brilliant person. Being with her was like riding a high—you never wanted it to end. She was that amazing. Your father misses her every time he breathes. He sees her every time he looks at you. Especially now …you’re the spitting image of her. This being the ten-year anniversary really just hit him hard.”

  It’s hard for me to fathom loving someone that much. I love my father as much as I could imagine, but the love he felt for my mother is obviously different. She was his soul mate, and he’s never recovered from her loss.

  “Pat, I get it. Really, I do. But he doesn’t always have to be strong for me anymore. This year, I’m having a hard time for reasons of my own. I have so much going on. I miss my mother, and I need him. But I understand. I’m not the only one who lost someone.”

  “You know Katie and I are always here for you.”

  “You and Kat
ie are the only reason we’ve survived this long. Thank you for helping him today,” I say. “You must be exhausted. How long have you been going?”

  “He started last night at eight.”

  Damn, twenty-four hours of drinking. I didn’t even think the bars here stayed open around the clock. I’m sure there’s a story there that I simply don’t want to know. “Go to bed.” I kiss his cheek. “You’ve pulled one hell of a shift.”

  “Love you, baby girl. Call if you need anything. Do you want me to send Charlie down?”

  “Nah, it’s a school night. She’s probably already asleep.”

  “How I fathered a child who falls asleep by nine is beyond me. Chase is up. Do you want me to send him over?”

  That makes me smile for the first time all day. Pat has no idea what a catastrophe that would be.

  “Your son has the compassion of a scorpion. I think I’ll pass,” I say.

  Pat kisses my forehead. “Okay, I’m going to go before I pass out too. If you need anything, just call.”

  “I love you, Pat. Thank you.”

  The door clicks when Pat leaves, and the house feels too quiet. The silence creates a frightening tension, like when the boogey man hides in the shadows in some slasher film. I know Charlie would come down, even if she was asleep, but Charlie would try to cheer me up. I don’t want to be cheered up. I just want to be sad. Three hundred and sixty-four days a year, I don’t allow myself to feel sad. I put on the strong, happy outlook and show the world how together I am. Today is the one day a year that I hide and allow myself to feel it all.

  I must have fallen asleep at some point, because I wake up and feel someone in bed with me. Charlie must have come down after all, and she’s hogging the blankets and taking over more than her fair share of the bed. I roll over to push her back onto her side of the bed, and I jump. Chase is lying there wearing a Giants T-shirt and workout shorts.

  He opens his eyes a crack, then slides his arms around me to pull me closer. “You okay?”

  “When did you get here?” I whisper.