I wish I didn’t have so many unanswered questions. I wish the heaviness in my chest would go away. I wish I weren’t so angry, because I miss him. I want to understand, to forgive, to fall back into the safe space we were making in the world.
I don’t know if I can.
“Want to talk about it?” asks Jessica, perching on the patio chair next to mine.
I close my eyes. Focus on the warmth of the sun on my face. Listen to the wind rustling through trees in the backyard, dogs barking, distant cars, and muted Christmas music from inside the house.
In the back of my mind, I hear Dr. Wilson’s voice.
“What if instead of focusing so much on what you should and shouldn’t do or what is or isn’t healthy, you try focusing on what makes you happy?”
“You still don’t get it. I don’t trust the things that make me happy.”
And therein lies the problem. As much as I don’t want it to be true, Leo proved me right. I shouldn’t have trusted him.
“I don’t know how to forgive someone who lied to me,” I tell Jessica, turning my head to look at her.
She studies my face. “How bad was the lie?”
“On a scale of one to ten? Maybe a six.” Sitting up, I swing my feet to the ground facing her. “Did Dad tell you where I was right before his heart attack?”
She nods. “A treatment program of some kind. He said you had some lasting trauma from an accident and miscarriage. I’m so sorry, honey.”
I smile tightly. “It’s okay. I’m glad you know. Saves us an awkward conversation. Anyway, I fell in love with my therapist there. We ran into each other at my work a few months ago and have since started seeing each other.”
Her eyes widen comically. “Oh. Yikes.”
I snort. “To put it mildly.”
“Do you mind me asking what he lied about?”
I have no idea how to explain, but I try. “He’s, um, known me—about me—for years, but I didn’t meet him until going to rehab. He and Jameson are friends, but neither of them told me.”
Her head tilts. “Has he explained why?”
I look up to see a hawk soaring high above. “That’s the problem. I’m so fucking angry about the fact he lied, I can’t listen to him. I want to, but feel… all fucked up inside about it. I can honestly say I never trusted a partner before him. I’ve never been so blindly, stupidly in love. I knew it was going to implode, but I got involved with him anyway.”
“Sounds like you’re more angry at yourself than him,” murmurs Jessica.
My gaze jerks to her. “Ew.”
She smiles gently. “For me, when I’m struggling with someone else’s behavior, it’s always a good idea to look at my own first. Maybe it’s so hard to forgive him because you still haven’t forgiven yourself for something. I don’t know everything this family has gone through over the years, but I know you’ve had your share of troubles. Have you forgiven yourself, Mia?”
I glare at her. “I don’t like you anymore.”
She laughs, then stands and drops a kiss on my head. “I still like you. When you’re ready, you can borrow my car if you’d like.”
She walks back into the house. I hug my knees to my chest and watch the sky slowly darken.
Have I forgiven myself?
For lying, stealing, and manipulating? For causing so much worry, then dismissing or minimizing that worry? For ignoring and resenting my brother and dad? For finding weaknesses in others and exploiting them? For taking risks, pushing boundaries, putting people on edge… For breaking them?
I think back to the amends list I made at Oasis with Dr. Reynolds—may she suffer an incurable yeast infection—and my progress. The list itself was shockingly short. Seven names. It would have been eight, but I’d already apologized to Declan for ghosting him.
Amends to my father and brother are done, at least in the sense of formal apologies. I’m still making up for a lifetime of assholery, rebuilding trust, et cetera. Kevin is also handled. I even called Jill, my dad’s ex-wife; she was stunned to hear from me, initially suspicious, but in the end surprisingly receptive.
The next two were more random—I owed an old friend two hundred dollars that I borrowed years ago and never paid back, and I unknowingly slept with my college roommate’s boyfriend in a drunken blackout. She caught us in the act and was devastated. That one was by far the hardest, the shame deepest. After sending her a message on Facebook asking if she’d like to meet for coffee, she responded she’d rather light herself on fire. I finally typed out the amends and sent them, but never heard back.
Only one name is left on the list. One I’ve ignored until now.
Amelia Sloan.
Mine.
I don’t end up borrowing Jessica’s car, though I do fantasize overlong about showing up at Leo’s in a blaze of Christmas presents and glory. He’d atone, tell me he loves me, and beg convincingly for me to forgive him. Because I’m such an awesome person, I’d accept. But not before giving him a piece of my mind—as long as Vince wasn’t around, of course.
Instead, Jameson drops me off at home late that evening. I work early in the morning but more importantly, I need to feed Ferdi. Leo or no Leo, life goes on.
Kinsey and Nix come over for a while to exchange gifts and drop off my phone. Their effort to act like nothing’s wrong is more appreciated than irritating. They go apeshit over the gift certificate I got them to go skydiving together, and I almost faint when they give me a brand-new wetsuit I can only afford in my dreams.
When they finally leave, it’s past eleven. I get ready for bed, then curl up under the comforter with a purring Ferdi. And finally, I power up my phone.
Thirteen text messages.
Six calls.
Three voicemails.
Some of the texts are from friends wishing me a merry Christmas. Most of the calls and voicemails are from Jameson. There’s only one missed call from Leo and no voicemails. My heart beating a staccato rhythm in my chest, I open Leo’s texts. After the initial burst of It’s not what you think and Please, let me explain lines, he sent one more.
LEO: I’m not going anywhere. When you’re ready to talk, I’ll be here.
46
one step forward
Eight days later, the plan for my amends to myself comes—as arguably all good ideas do—in the shower. The prior moments aren’t a high point in my life, comprised of me sitting with my knees to my chest, sobbing my guts out, while the hot water slowly turns cold. Only after the picturesque experience of nearly choking on snot do I take a breather and drag myself to my feet.
Leaning on the wall, I stare sightlessly at the frosted-glass shower doors. I’m not thinking of anything in particular, my brain and body exhausted from running in ceaseless circles since Christmas. I’ve done everything in my power to keep busy, working as much overtime as possible and spending downtime with friends and family.
As I told Dr. Wilson yesterday, I’m not avoiding the unfinished business between Leo and me so much as waiting for a sign. Some internal ah-ha! moment that means I’m ready to face him. To face the truth. Even though each day is glazed with the ache of missing Leo and Vince, the last thing I want is to act impulsively. There’s a child in the mix, and things are no doubt already confusing for him.
Whatever move I make next, I want to be sure. I want to be free of the last emotional baggage I have—the final chains linking me to my past. Until that happens, no matter what Leo tells me, I won’t be in the right mind frame to hear it. Forgiving myself has to come before forgiving him.
That’s when the idea comes. An idea so random, so totally unlike me, that I know it’s the real deal. The key to letting go of who I was once and for all and embracing who I want to be.
With a surge of newfound energy, I scramble from the shower and throw on clothes. I’m out the door twenty minutes later, a beanie on my wet hair and an oversized hoodie over jeans. I hop into Jessica’s black Mini Cooper and start the engine. I have yet to think of the car as
mine, even though it is.
Dad bought Jessica a new Lexus for Christmas. He did the whole deal—shiny sedan in the driveway Christmas morning with a big red bow on top. Poor woman almost had her own heart attack and nearly abandoned the Sloan-ship. Only after Jameson and I assured her we’d never seen our dad so bonkers for a woman since our mom did she accept the gift. And a few days later, after she assured me she’d never been so bonkers for a man, I accepted the keys to her old car.
Win-win.
I drive straight to my dad’s, surprising him and Jessica in the middle of dinner. Waving off an invitation to grab a plate, I take an empty seat at the kitchen table and spill the beans.
My dad is ecstatic.
“That sounds perfect, Mia. Absolutely perfect for you.” He and Jessica share a grin.
My idea is small, a tender-skinned infant I’m not quite sure what to do with, how to feed or care for. “I might need some help,” I say haltingly. “I don’t mean with money—I’ve wasted too much of yours already. With other stuff. Shit, I don’t even know what I’m saying. Just…”
“Moral support?” offers Jessica.
I sink in relief. “Yes.”
“Whatever you need,” my dad replies eagerly. “We’ll be your number one cheerleaders. Right, Jess?”
She nods. “Absolutely. I have some time in the morning if you want me to sit down with you. We can do some research, figure out your next steps. I’d be happy to come down to Venice.”
Filled with gratitude, I smile. “That sounds great. Want to grab breakfast, too?”
“Definitely.”
“Can I come?” asks my dad.
Jessica and I exchange a glance. We shake our heads in unison. Dad sighs in exaggerated disappointment, but there’s a twinkle in his eye.
“A master’s degree in education psychology?” echoes Jameson, eyes wide as he lowers the mug of coffee from his mouth. “That’s for what, being a school counselor?”
“Yep,” I confirm. “A middle school guidance counselor to be exact. Jessica helped me look at some local programs. With loans and working full-time, I think I can do it in two or three years.”
He blinks. “Holy shit, Meerkat. I can honestly say that sounds perfect for you.”
“You think so? That’s what Dad and Jessica said, too.” I chew my lip, scratching Ferdi absently while staring out a nearby window. “I feel a little bit like I’m making a huge leap in a potentially wrong direction. Twenty-eight is a little old to completely shift directions. What if I can’t do it?”
Jameson leans forward, catching my gaze with his. He wears a dead-serious expression I’ve secretly dubbed the Sloan Lawyer Face. Dad has the same one.
“It’s never too late, and we are not old. Mia, you have always done exactly what you wanted to, no matter how far-fetched or impossible-sounding it was. Remember senior year when those dumb girls dared you to try and win the prom queen nomination? What did you do?”
I roll my eyes. “I hardly think that’s an equal comparison.”
Jameson ignores me. “You won! The wild surfer girl who preferred graffitiing the vice principal’s car over going to class.”
“Hey, I was never caught for that! And anyway, I always did my homework and got good grades.”
Jameson chuckles. “My point, thank you. You didn’t even want to be prom queen, but you won because you set your mind to it. You hated school, but you excelled because you loved learning.” He sits back, smug and triumphant. “Look at everything you’ve been through, how far you’ve come. You’re ideal guidance counselor material. Besides, kids love you.”
Another bit of my worry falls away. “Thanks, Jaybird. For being here. Letting me lean on you. I feel like I’m starting over again—or starting for the first time. It’s a little scary.”
He nods. “I’m always here for you, sis. You know who else would really like to—”
“Not yet.”
He sighs.
47
green flash
I’m ready.
A total of sixteen days have passed since I last saw or heard from Leo. Sixteen excruciating, transforming, scary-as-fuck days. My phone weighs a thousand pounds as I dial his number. Despite timing my call for when I know he’s working and won’t be able to answer, I’m so nervous I’m breathless.
His recorded voice, though sterile and professional, still fills me with anticipation. God, I miss him. Using the script Dr. Wilson helped me with, I leave my carefully worded voicemail. Then I wait.
And wait.
At six o’clock in the evening, he responds.
LEO: I’ll be there.
I barely sleep that night out of excitement and fear. I know there’s a chance this will go horribly wrong. That my abrupt withdrawal caused him to reevaluate his feelings and whether or not he wants a relationship with me. But it’s a risk I’m willing to take. A risk I have to take.
The drive to Pasadena is fairly smooth, not much traffic so early on a Saturday. I arrive at Arlington Garden twenty minutes before our nine o’clock meeting time and follow Kinsey’s directions to the right spot. The gardens are beautiful in the dewy morning, sunlight falling in majestic beams through trees. I turn a corner and there it is—the labyrinth.
Standing just outside the rock-built design is Leo, his back to me, hands tucked in the pockets of his lightweight jacket. As my footsteps approach, his head lifts and his soft voice reaches my ears.
“This seven-circuit design is considered one of the most sacred in the world, its first appearance more than five thousand years ago.”
I near where he stands. My hands tremble to touch him. “I know. It’s the one you modeled Oasis’ labyrinth after, isn’t it?”
He nods, finally turning, gaze absorbing my features like he never thought to see me again. “Happy New Year, Amelia.”
I smile weakly. “You too. I’d like to talk first, then, if you still want to, we can walk the labyrinth?”
“Of course.”
We head to a nearby bench and sit a foot apart. It feels wrong but also right, the space necessary for this conversation. As I promised myself, I don’t hesitate but jump right into free fall.
“Jameson already told me how you two met and how I was the favorite topic of conversation for a few years.”
Elbows on his knees, Leo stares at the ground. “Okay.” There’s no surprise in his voice, only resignation. “Whatever questions you have, I’ll tell you the absolute truth.”
I gaze across the intricate, spiraling design. When I’m sure there’s no anger in my voice, I finally speak. “I want to know why you lied to me for months. Why you asked me to trust you but wouldn’t trust me back.”
“Of course I trust you, Amelia. It wasn’t about trust.” He straightens, pivoting to face me. “I can remember the exact moment I started feeling something other than professional concern for my friend’s sister. After months of hearing about you, I asked if Jameson had a picture. He showed me a shot of you on the beach before heading into the water. You were putting your hair up, your board on the sand beside you, your wetsuit already on.”
I remember the moment and the photo. It was one of the rare occasions Jameson put on sunblock and came to the beach with me.
“I don’t know what I was expecting,” Leo murmurs. “Maybe the female version of Jameson, brown hair and blue eyes. But there you were, blond and brown-eyed and tan, with a grin that was as wicked as it was joyful. All of a sudden, everything I’d learned about you came together in a new way. I realized how utterly captivated I was by you.”
“With everything you knew about me, you were captivated? I was a loose cannon.”
“You were wild and uninhibited.”
“I was a wrecking ball.”
“You were a perfect wave.”
I sigh, my chin dropping to my chest. “It still doesn’t sound healthy.”
From the corner of my eye I see his wry smile. “Obsessions rarely are. But it’s the truth. Even then, I had feelings
for you. When you showed up at our game that night, I had every intention of talking to you.”
“Why didn’t you?” I whisper.
“The short answer is I had several missed calls from Marianne and a message that Vince had chickenpox. The long answer…” He sighs. “When I came out of the locker room, I saw you talking to Kevin. Your focus—your smile—was aimed at him. I was insanely jealous, then angry at myself for having these impossible feelings for a woman I’d never even met. Believe me, there were a million times over the next two years that I regretted not approaching you.”
My eyes sting with tears. “Thank God you didn’t,” I tell him seriously. “I wasn’t ready for you, Leo. I would have found a way to fuck everything up.”
He laughs without mirth. “And instead, I found a way to do it. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you. I knew treating you at Oasis was a bad idea. The worst, in fact. But I weighed it against the possibility of helping you and decided the risk was worth it.”
The words fill me up, lift me. I’m buoyant and free. You never needed fear, Amelia. You just needed to feel safe. Dr. Wilson was right. Leo was right. I deserve this.
I deserve to be happy.
“I’m glad you took the risk,” I tell him. “For what it’s worth, I don’t regret anything. Not our sessions, not the hot springs, not everything that’s happened since.”
“Neither do I. You have to know, Amelia, that even when I struggled with what happened at Oasis, it wasn’t because of you. You have never been a mistake.”
Closing my eyes, I immerse myself in the moment. The peace and rightness. Then I look at him, at his beautiful, sad face. And like he taught me, I speak the truth.
“I love you, Leo Chastain. I forgive you. Can you forgive me for disappearing the last few—”
The Fall Before Flight Page 21