by Cassia Leo
“Really?” Bella remarks. “There’s something different about you. Maybe it’s the sex glow?” She winks at me and I shake my head.
“It’s definitely not that,” I reply, trying not to sound too sexually frustrated.
Rory rolls her eyes as she gently taps the tip of her index finger on the baby’s pouty bottom lip. “He’s so beautiful. What’s his name?”
“Theodore, but we call him Teddy,” Benji replies. “Figured we’d keep the tradition of presidential names going.”
Rory’s eyes are locked on Teddy’s. “Did you know your dad was named after Benji Franklin? I didn’t,” she says, speaking in a bright singsong voice.
Teddy’s eyes are fixated on Rory’s. He reaches up and grabs a chunk of her auburn hair and stares at it, utterly mesmerized. Then his round face breaks into a glowing smile.
“Oh, my God. He’s smiling at me,” Rory says, glancing at Bella.
Suddenly, my pulse races as I imagine Rory as a mother. I never realized how much I wanted to see that until now.
I slide my phone out of my pocket and take a step back to take a picture. Rory continues to speak to Teddy and his eyes dart around excitedly, seeking out the sound of her voice. I snap a couple of photos then I text the pictures to Rory, to show her how mesmerizingly beautiful she looks right now. But the spell is quickly broken when Jamie busts into the conversation.
“So how’s the job with your dad going?” Jamie asks.
Rory hands the baby back to Bella, and the look on her face changes from pure delight to complete horror. “What?”
“What job?” I ask, addressing my question to Rory, but it’s Jamie who answers.
“I thought you knew,” Jamie says, but the expression on Rory’s face makes it plainly obvious that Jamie has brought up something Rory didn’t want me to know.
I can demand that Rory tell me what Jamie’s talking about, or I can take a few deep breaths and try to make it through the rest of the grand opening without further embarrassment. Since I have as much riding on this grand opening as Jamie, Benji, and Peter, I opt for the second option. I’ll pretend I’m not totally fucking floored that Rory has kept a secret from me until we leave.
Thankfully, after meeting with a few of the employees and customers, Rory and I are able to duck out of there an hour later. The moment we’re both inside my car, the tension between us is thick enough to carve with a chainsaw. I make no attempt to start the car before I address the issue.
“You didn’t tell me you’re going to work for your dad,” I say, my voice taking on a hard edge.
“That’s because I haven’t decided yet.”
“Well, Jamie seems to think you’ve made your decision.” I turn to her and she’s staring at the dashboard. “What happened to writing your book?”
“Maybe I don’t want to write the book anymore,” she mutters.
I draw in a deep breath to calm myself. I don’t know if I’m just pissed that she’s going to work on the charity we’ve both successfully avoided discussing the past couple of weeks since our parents concocted this ridiculous idea, or if I’m more upset that she’s giving up on telling her story. Our story.
“You spent years working on that book, and now you’re just going to give up on it?”
“It’s my book, Houston,” she says, her chest trembling with each breath she takes. “My book. My life. My business.”
“It became my business the moment you called me telling me you needed me.”
She turns to me with rage lighting up her hazel eyes. “Oh, you were involved way before that, Houston. You were involved from the moment you gave my book to my mother!”
I chuckle at this accusation. “Now you’re getting mad at me for something you were thanking me for last month?”
“Go ahead. Laugh. Do you know what it’s like to lose almost three years of work? No, you don’t,” she says as the first tears roll down her cheeks. “Do you know what it’s like to have the most private moments of your life revealed to your own mother? It fucking sucks. And now she won’t even return the favor. You’re all keeping stuff from me. You, Kenny, my mom, my dad. And I’m so fucking sick of it!”
I reach for her, but she smacks my hand away. “Rory, you had a major setback. It happens,” I begin, and she rolls her eyes at me. “Do you think I got my business up and running on the first try? I’ve made a shit ton of mistakes along the way, and I keep making them, but most people don’t let something like that stand in the way of achieving their dream.”
“Maybe writing isn’t my dream anymore.”
I shake my head. “Don’t do that, Rory. Don’t hurt yourself to try to prove a point to me.”
“Take me home,” she says, sitting back in her seat and shifting her gaze to the dark clouds hanging over the Zucker’s parking lot.
“So that’s it? You don’t want to talk about it? You’re just going to give up and go work for your dad?”
She lets out a soft puff of laughter as she shakes her head. “Listen to yourself. Do you even hear what you’re saying? You’re actually angry that I want to work for a foundation set up to help people like Hallie? Do you know how insensitive you sound right now?”
I clench my jaw as I slide the key into the ignition and turn on the car. “Fine. Let’s go.”
“Oh, how convenient. Now that the tables have turned on you, you don’t want to talk about it anymore. Just take me home.”
The twenty-five-minute drive to Patricia’s apartment is excruciatingly silent, with Rory too proud to admit that she’s using her father’s foundation as an excuse to give up on her dream and me refusing to admit that the foundation is a positive thing for both of our families, and the lives and families of people like Hallie. I’m not stupid or insensitive. I know my mom and James will do good things with Hallie’s Hope. But I don’t want any part of it. And I don’t think it’s unreasonable that I don’t want Rory to give up on her dreams just to assuage our parents’ guilt.
I understand why James and my mom need this foundation. They both knew about what happened to Hallie, and they both feel like they didn’t do enough to help her when she was alive. But this isn’t Rory’s cross to bear.
Rory’s story isn’t Hallie’s story. Hallie’s story is over.
“Don’t call me tonight,” I say as Houston pulls up in front of my mom’s building. “I’m too angry to talk to you right now.”
“I won’t.”
His response is so cold and unexpected, I hop out of the car and slam the door shut before he can see my reaction. My chest aches as I walk quickly across the lobby, ignoring the friendly greeting from the guy working the concierge desk. I punch the elevator call button furiously, hoping the doors will slide open soon. Mercifully, the doors open for me before the first tears fall, and I tuck myself into the corner near the control panel as I wait impatiently for the elevator to close and take me up to the safety of the fourth floor.
Houston is wrong. Giving up on my book does not mean I’m giving up on my dream.
I haven’t told him about my sessions with the therapist, because I think I need to keep that area of my life to myself. I need to work out the problems I discuss with my therapist on my own. My biggest issue is that I’m always reacting instead of acting. I spent five years of my life on cruise control, just waiting for the next speed bump or inevitable crash. Complacency was a way of life for me.
Not anymore.
I don’t think Liam came into my life at the same moment as Houston out of sheer coincidence. I don’t know if it was God, fate, the universe, or karma, but I think Liam came into my life to teach me a lesson about impermanence.
I never once considered that all the work I put into my book could be wiped out in an instant. Or that everything I thought I knew about Hallie could be called into question, more than once. I know now that nothing lasts forever. Not even the all-consuming love that once defined you as a person.
So maybe Houston and I are finally becoming who we were al
ways meant to be. He always saw me as the storyteller. And I always saw him as the hero. But maybe the truth is that we’re just two fucked-up people who have no business trying to fit the fucked-up pieces of our fucked-up lives together.
I guess it’s fitting that this realization should come the day before Valentine’s Day. It was six years ago today that I asked Houston if our story had to end, and he responded with, “I hope it never ends.”
The truth is that every story ends at some point. It’s just that some stories end happier than others.
* * *
February 17, 2015
The meeting with my dad’s tax attorneys is just as boring as I imagined it would be. I spent the entire two hours taking notes on the various legal forms of a nonprofit organization, and the advantages that come with each form. Some of the legal and financial jargon goes over my head, but by the end of the meeting, I’m pretty certain they’ve settled on establishing Hallie’s Hope as a public-benefit nonprofit corporation. I hide my unadulterated excitement when the meeting ends, keeping my business poker face on as my dad and I exit the conference room at his law office.
“When are you going to get an office for the foundation?” I ask as we head down the hall.
My dad glances over his shoulder to make sure the tax attorneys are gone before he responds. “I already have office space, very close to your mom’s apartment in the Pearl District. I’ll get you a key soon so you can set up your desk. If all goes well, we should have the foundation up and running in six months, which means you’ll have plenty of time to help me with hiring and getting all the offices set up.”
“Help you with hiring? I don’t know anything about hiring people, especially not for a nonprofit.”
He laughs as he reaches for the door handle. “I have complete faith in your ability to learn as you go. You need to give yourself a little more credit.”
He opens the door and my heart leaps into my throat. Ava is sitting in one of the visitor chairs in my dad’s office. The moment she sees me, her face lights up as if she’s never been happier to see someone in her entire life.
“Oh, Rory,” she says, covering her mouth as her eyes well up with tears.
“I’ll leave you two to catch up,” my dad mutters as he exits the office, closing the door softly behind him.
Ava stands from the chair and I’m frozen as she makes her way toward me. “You look so beautiful,” she says, reaching up to touch my hair.
I don’t know how to respond. I didn’t realize how much I needed to see Ava until now. And now I feel like a complete idiot. Does she know about my fight with Houston? Does she know we haven’t spoken in four days? Is that why she’s here? No, that’s ridiculous. She’s obviously here to talk to my dad. She doesn’t know anything about how I’ve spent the past four days checking my phone every ten minutes for missed calls and texts from Houston.
I throw my arms around Ava’s waist and grip her in a tight hug. “I’m sorry I haven’t been down to see you.”
She laughs as she wraps her arms around me. “Oh, honey, don’t be silly. McMinnville isn’t exactly around the corner from here. And you’ve been busy.”
“No, I haven’t been that busy. I’m sorry I never came back.”
She rubs my back. “It’s okay. We all dealt with it the best we could. The important thing is that you’re here now. If Hallie were here, she’d want you to be a part of this.”
I sniff loudly as I let go of her, cringing when I notice the wet spot on her jean jacket. “Sorry.”
She glances at the spot and waves off my apology. “Not like I’m not used to a little rain.”
I smile when she winks at me, then I let out a deep sigh. “Do you really think Hallie would be happy with what we’re doing? I mean, she didn’t even want us to know.”
She smiles at my question. “She wanted you to know. She just didn’t know how you’d react.” She takes a beat before she continues. “She told your father because she desperately wanted others to know. And…” She presses her lips together and draws in a deep breath through her nose as she tries to get a grip on her emotions. “And I’m so glad she told him, because it helped me understand the dynamics of their relationship. And now we can help other victims find the courage to use their voice.”
I nod as I finally understand what all this is about. Hallie’s Hope is Hallie’s story. And now that she’s gone, I have to tell the story for her. And this will help others like her tell their stories.
When Dr. Little asked me why I wanted to tell the story of Houston and me, I couldn’t come up with a valid reason. I told her I couldn’t complete her homework assignment because I didn’t have the answer to that question. Now I do.
I wanted to tell the story of Houston and me because it made me feel close to Hallie. But it wasn’t our story I needed to tell. It was hers.
“Thank you,” I say, and Ava looks a bit confused. “For coming here today and for doing this with my dad.”
She waves off my gratitude. “Oh, please. I’m the one who’s grateful for you two.” She reaches out and grabs my hand. “Houston loves you more than anything. And even if he doesn’t agree with everything we’re doing here, you and your father are now a part of our family. He’ll understand that soon enough.”
I hug her one more time before I head back to my mom’s apartment. Though I’m in a bit of a haze now, wondering if Ava was there to try to set things right between Houston and me. No, that’s just my narcissism rearing its ugly head again. Not everything is about me and Houston. And our problems are not so easily fixed. It will take a lot more than a heartfelt speech from Ava to make things work between us.
When I enter the apartment, my mom is in the kitchen and the sound of the coffee machine sputtering its final drops into the carafe is like music to my ears. I follow the rich aroma into the kitchen and find her pressing start on the dishwasher.
“Can I have a cup?”
My mom jumps two feet in the air at the sound of my voice. “Jesus, Rory! You scared the life out of me.” She glares at me when I laugh. “Very funny. Give the old woman a heart attack. Ha ha.”
“You’re not an old woman, Mom. You’re fifty-one.”
She rolls her eyes as she reaches into the cupboard for a couple of mugs. “I may not be an old woman, but I am a wise woman. And I know a stubborn woman when I see one.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
She pours one mug of hot coffee then replaces the carafe on the burner instead of pouring the second cup. “I’m talking about you and this stupid argument you had with Houston.”
My eyes widen with shock. “Where is this coming from?”
She shrugs as if she doesn’t know, but she continues as if she knows exactly what she’s getting at. “I think you’re taking your frustration with me out on Houston, and it’s not right,” she says, her gaze locked on the kitchen counter. “My decision to not show you my book has nothing to do with Houston’s sincere attempt to help you get your book published.”
This is clearly an ambush. Either Houston put her up to this or she thinks siding with Houston will get me so angry with her that I’ll go running back to Houston. She’s probably just tired of me moping around the apartment, cramping her single lifestyle.
“You mean Houston’s attempt to hide the fact that he was helping me get my book published? The way everyone seems to hide everything from me these days?”
“I understand you need someone to take out your frustrations on, but Houston is not the one who wronged you. No one has wronged you, Rory. What we did with your book, we did out of love for you, and you know that. So stop behaving like a spoiled teenager and go apologize to Houston.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Are you seriously taking his side?”
She sighs heavily. “Rory, six months ago I would probably have been the last person you’d expect to take Houston’s side in an argument.”
I laugh at this. “Well, maybe you weren’t so wrong about him. Maybe
he was just a cocky frat boy after all.”
“No. Things have changed. I’ve changed. You’ve changed. Houston has changed. And you can’t keep treating him like the man who lied to you. You can’t keep punishing him for keeping Hallie’s letter from you.” She sets her mug down on the counter and steps forward, taking my face in her hands. “He loves you, Rory. And I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he only wants what’s best for you.”
I look into her eyes and my heart drops. I can’t speak.
She lets go of my face and smiles as she realizes her words have struck a chord. “He’s spent a lot of his valuable time and effort, time he could have spent trying to get over you after you repeatedly rejected his apologies. He spent that time doing everything he could to make your dreams come true. Now it’s your turn to swallow your pride and show a little gratitude. You have to go to him this time.”
Her words are so sharply true, they cut me down to nothing. How could I not see how selfish I’ve been? Yes, I have a right to grieve Hallie’s and Liam’s deaths, but I don’t have a right to take my anger and frustration out on the one person who loves me despite the fact that I’ve repeatedly dumped all my baggage on him over the past few weeks. The one person who’s been more of a friend to me than anyone since I lost Liam, though he’s had every right to keep his distance.
It takes me ten minutes to walk the few blocks to Houston’s apartment, and another five minutes for me to work up the nerve to use the key he forced me to take a few weeks ago. He usually gets home from work sometime around six or seven p.m. I can wait a couple of hours for him. That will give me time to think of what I’m going to say.
I enter Houston’s apartment and I don’t know why I’m surprised to see it’s a mess. Houston used to help me clean our old apartment when we were at UO, but only after lots of cajoling and threatening to withhold sex on my part. And I guess it’s a bit of a cliché that guys tend to let their bad habits take over in the midst of a breakup.