Insipid

by Christine Brae

  “I can’t. I can’t say goodbye. There’s so much for me to tell you. I’ll fly over there so we can talk. Can I do that? Can we at least see each other one last time?”

  “No. Please move on with your life. Marry Cristina. Have a family with her. Live your life and always remember what’s important. Immerse yourself in the love of those around you instead of trying too hard to gain it from those that aren’t. Thank you for everything, Lucas. I will always remember you and I hope that we can be friends one day when this is all in the distant past.”

  I force out a smile before taking a deep breath and moving my cursor over to log out of this phase of my life. Permanently.

  “WELL, THAT WORKED out, huh? Are you glad you made that trip out to Vegas?” I ask as I pass Chris a salad plate at dinner the following night.

  “Yeah. We signed the deal right there and then. My biggest one yet.” He puts the plate down, takes my hand, and brings it up to his lips. “Now we can move out of here and into our own house—Pacific Heights, Telegraph Hill—you name it, baby. Anywhere you want to live.”

  I smile warmly at him but don’t say a word, afraid that he’ll be able to read into my vocal expression. I’m choked up. The conversation with Lucas hasn’t left me for a single second. The last time I felt like this was when I walked out on you twenty years ago, I want to say to him. Most people don’t go through two heartbreaks in a lifetime. And here I am with fragments of my heart splintered further into tiny little pieces.

  “Jae? Are you okay?” He tugs at my hand to get my attention.

  “Oh, yes. Sorry, babe. I didn’t hear you.”

  “Did you speak to him?”

  “I did.”

  “How’d it go?”

  “Uneventful. He said he understood. It was a three minute conversation,” I assure him.

  He nods his head in acknowledgment and continues on with telling me about his business deal. I try to listen intently, but I don’t hear a word he says. We go to bed early, each exhausted from our respective eventful days. I move around the bed restlessly, praying for sleep to take over, to sweep me up into a state of apathy. While Chris lies fast asleep, I get out of bed and walk out through the French doors, desperately searching for relief out in the open air.

  “Always look for signs, Cia,” I used to tell her. “Be intuitive. Signs are God’s way of speaking to you. If you keep an open heart, you will see them.”

  Slowly, I lift my head up and try to find anything to tell me that things will be okay. “Give me a sign, Lord,” I pray, searching for a single light in the absolute darkness. “If I find a star, I’ll know what I need to do.”

  My heart takes a leap when I see a tiny light streaking across the clouds, only to realize it’s an airplane. And as in the past two years of my life, once again I find myself lost and alone, blanketed only by the forlorn, empty sky.

  “GOOD MORNING!” I greet my parents as I waltz into their dining room dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, ready to continue a day of unpacking more boxes. I braved an early morning jaunt across the garden to my parents’ house to join them for breakfast since Chris had to leave early for work.

  “Good morning to you, darling,” my mother answers, motioning for Concha to add another place setting right next to her. “How’s the unpacking going? Are you making any progress?” she asks as my father continues to pore over the newspaper.

  I walk around the table to give each of them a kiss on the cheek. “It’s going,” I say as I take a seat and reach out for a cup of coffee. “I thought I’d stop by to ask if you wanted to drive out to Nordstrom’s this afternoon? I thought I’d check out their spring sale and could use the company.”

  “Sure, I would love that.” My mother eyes me suspiciously. “But what are you looking for? It’s not like you’re going to need work outfits in the next few weeks at least. I thought you were going to take a break, sweetie?”

  “I am. I just want to get out of the house.”

  “Is everything okay?” My father’s attention is now focused on me as he folds the newspaper up and places it on the table in front of him. He leans over, intent on hearing what I have to say.

  “I’m fine, don’t worry! I’m just a little stressed about moving in and all.”

  “Everything okay with you and Chris?”

  “Yes, why would you ask that?” I’m flustered by her uncanny intuition.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Lucas Martinez called a few times and I told him that you still had the same cell phone number and to call you on your phone. I could tell that you weren’t taking his calls.”

  “It’s all good. I forgot to tell him I was moving.”

  “Forgot?” My mother laughs acrimoniously.

  “Mama. I forgot. Let’s leave it at that.”

  “Oh well. He’s a charming young man. Very determined.”

  “Young is the word.” I smile at my father, who winks back at me.

  The atmosphere turns silent as we casually turn our attention to finishing breakfast. We talk about my father’s business and the investments he has instructed his banker to transact for him in the past week. He always runs these things by me and I’m always happy to help and advise him about any new stock that I hear about. This week, I don’t have any suggestions for him. I’ve been out of the work force for one week and already I’m feeling out of touch.

  The doorbell rings just as we’re finishing up our meal. Danilo reluctantly enters the room with a FedEx box and lays it on the empty spot adjacent to me on the table.

  “Ms. Jade, this package came for you.”

  “Hmm. Who is it from?” I ask as I pull the parcel towards me to examine it.

  “Not sure, ma’am. It says MT Media.”

  My parents turn to look at me and watch as I tear on the tab that opens the box. “Thank you, Dani. I’ll take it from here.”

  Inside it is an envelope with a letter addressed to me. Attached to the letter is a white composition notebook, like the ones we used for school, except that the cover is pure white. Emblazoned across the front of the notebook are the words, “TOP SECRET AGENT NOTES.” Tears spring to my eyes as I remember the hidden meaning behind those words. The notebook contains only two tabs. One of them is “BEFORE JADE” and the other is “AFTER JADE.” The pages behind the first tab have been removed. In its place is a blank piece of loose leaf paper with “TO BE TOLD IN PERSON” written across the lines. I stand up from the table slowly, cradling the box in my arms, and bid goodbye to my parents. I walk back across to settle myself in one of the cabanas by the pool, and with shaking hands, I tear open the letter.

  Dearest Jade,

  I just couldn’t leave things as they were without explaining myself. For all it’s worth, I hope it helps you understand what happened in the last few months that prevented me from seeing you as often as I wanted to. While it’s true that my hectic travel schedule was mostly to blame for our lack of time together, I was also under extreme time constraints to complete the program that I entered into the weeks before I met you in Chicago last year. I had checked myself into an outpatient rehabilitation program, Jade. After Isabel Ailey left me to go back to her husband, I found myself spiraling out of control. I finally made a decision to check into a rehab facility to allow me to recover from my drug addiction. The terms of the outpatient program required me to check in each week. Chicago was an exception—I was given a two week dispensation due to the importance of completing the merger. Since then, I have never missed a session or appointment. I graduated out of the program two weeks ago and I believe that joining the program was the best thing I’ve ever done for myself.

  While in therapy, my doctor suggested that I keep a journal. I haven’t told you everything about myself yet, but therapy helped me to understand that there were certain events in my life that I needed to deal with out in the open. Writing my thoughts on paper helped me understand the feelings and emotions that I had not only about what happened to me, but that I was currently going through as well.r />
  So now, dear Jade, here it is. My Secret Agent thoughts about my Secret Agent life. I’ve always wanted my life to be an open book with you. Here are the final missing pieces of the puzzle. In giving you my words, I am giving you my heart.

  Read my words, Jade. Know that I have felt the same way about you from the first day that we met.

  I’ve taken a one month leave of absence from work and am staying in San Francisco, hoping that you will be willing to see me sometime in the near future. You will know where I am. I hope that you come and find me soon.

  With much love,

  I’M OUTSIDE THE doorway of an imposing high rise condominium called Lake Point Towers situated right on the shores of Lake Michigan. It is one of the first investment properties he purchased years ago when his medical career was just taking off. Today, he calls it his home. The doorman greets me with a warm smile as he nods his head in the direction of the elevator. I calmly press the button for the 30th floor and am slightly disappointed at the speed at which it takes me closer to my destination. The long hallway leading to his place is tastefully bare, modernized and redecorated since the last time I was here.

  She opens the door immediately after the musical chiming of the first bell. “Jade?” The look on her face isn’t surprising.

  “Hi, Cara. Is he in?” I ask delicately. The waft of homemade cooking permeates the air.

  “Jade, you’re not supposed to be here. The restraining order is still in effect, is it not?” She holds on to the door, allowing me only a small glimpse of the inside. Just as I’m about to respond, I hear his voice in the background. He stands right behind her with the same look of concern.

  “Jade? What are you doing here?”

  “Joshua. I was wondering if we could talk for a few minutes?”

  He nods his head as Cara steps back to allow me to move in closer. “Sure. Cara, it’s okay. Let her in.”

  He opens the door and I follow his lead, the sound of our footsteps dominating the silence between the three of us. The panoramic view of the pier is breathtaking. It doesn’t look at all like the place we furnished when we first put it up for rent. It’s homey now, warm and inviting. The sparsely decorated place has been updated with rich hues of brown and gold and red. There are no pictures of our family, no pictures of me. But every corner is decorated with colorful pictures of Cia. She looked nothing like him and yet they shared a special bond that only fathers and daughters do. We stop at the living room, where he motions for me to take a seat. I sit down on a brown leather couch directly facing a wall-to-wall bar complete with a sink and built-in wine coolers embedded underneath the immense granite shelves.

  “Red wine?” He moves about the bar, searching for the right bottle of wine, reaching into the drawers to find a corkscrew. I watch him as he works his way back and forth. He looks good. There are lines around his eyes that make him look dignified, but not weathered. His hair has turned gray somewhat, more salt than pepper, thinner but not much different from what I remember. He hands me a glass of wine and takes a seat on the ottoman right across from me.

  “You look great, Jade. You haven’t changed at all. What is it that I can do for you?”

  “I thought I’d stop by to see how you are. I know you also received a final copy of the annulment last week.” I play with my hands, looking at his face for a reaction. He has none.

  “I did. It’s just a piece of paper. We’ve been over for years. I get that now.”

  I desperately try to change the mood of our conversation. “You look well, Josh. How’ve you been?”

  “I’m well, thank you. Teaching at the university has really been a blessing to me. It was the best decision I’ve ever made.”

  “I’m so happy to hear that,” I say.

  “How are they? Your parents?” he asks with genuine interest, and we fall into more comfortable small talk.

  “Dad’s supposed to be retired, but you know him. He still works out of the office a few days a week. Mom is busy with all her charity work. They’re in good health except for the usual ailments that come with age. Dad golfs a lot and mom walks on the treadmill a few days a week.” I laugh. “How about your family?”

  “They’re all doing great. I see them every weekend for dinner. Mom is slowing down a bit too, and we think she has early stages of glaucoma, so we’re managing through that.”

  “That will be us soon,” I say lightly, trying to elicit a smile from him.

  He shakes his head good naturedly, but I can tell that his mind is somewhere else. “Listen, I’ve been thinking about you lately, wondering how you are. Are you still working at the same company? I heard you’ve been dividing your time between here and Frisco.”

  “I actually moved into Mom and Dad’s place until I figure out what to do next. How are you and Cara? I’m happy to see that she’s moved in.”

  “Yes, she’s still working at the hospital, but she sold her place to move in with me.”

  I’m lost in thought as I look out the window towards the pier. The Ferris wheel, the Children’s Museum… these places leave us with so many memories of her. “I can never get enough of this unobstructed view.”

  “I think of her every day. These places—they help me to remember.” He leans in towards me as he says this, his hands clasped together and resting on his knees.

  I nod my head in agreement. “Josh, I guess I just wanted to see you, to make sure that you were okay.”

  His eyes travel across the room and I twitch uncomfortably when I see that he’s looking at my neck. “Is it still there? The scar?”

  “It’s better,” I reply, mindlessly toying with the scarf on my neck. “Lighter and less noticeable.”

  “I am so sorry for everything that’s happened between us, Jade.”

  “I know, Josh.”

  “I’ve learned so much in therapy. At first, it was remorse over what I had done to you. And then it was anger at losing you and her in the span of one year. And now, it’s mostly just regret.”

  “There’s nothing to regret. We had a good life, you and I. We did the best we could. And you helped me raise a wonderful human being. I’m filled only with gratitude for everything you did for me. I guess that’s what I wanted to come and say to you. I want to thank you for spending all those years of your life with me. And I’m sorry that it ended the way it did. It was so selfish of me to think that I was the only one who suffered a loss. You took care of us for nineteen years, and during the happiest times of my life with her, you were there too.”

  “I appreciate your kind words,” he says sadly. “Jade, I can never take back what I did. I will live with that forever. But I now know what happened to me that night. Can we talk about it?”

  “Yes, I think we need to,” I agree wholeheartedly. “I should have told you how I was feeling outright instead of keeping it all inside. But please understand, I tried to work it out. I tried to cast my feelings aside. I knew that you needed me as much as I needed you. I can’t explain it, but everything just shut down after we lost her.”

  “No, Jade. You were never there. I never had you. Even when Cia was younger, I knew it in my heart. Your eyes give away so much more than you know. So it wasn’t just you that felt that way. I felt it too. I tried to deny it for as long as I could. In a way, it was bound to happen. You were going to leave me.”

  I don’t say a word. I’m at a loss for offering him any comfort. Anything I attempt will be a lie.

  He gulps down a portion of his wine and proceeds. “I know now that I never had you. I think that subconsciously, I always knew that. I tried to fill that void in me with my career, and yours with material things. I loved buying you things because those were the only moments that made you smile. And the rest of our emptiness was filled by Felicia.”

  “You make me sound so shallow, so materialistic,” I answer sadly.

  He gradually scoots himself forward so that our knees are almost touching. “No, that’s not what I mean at all. You took what you could, lit
tle snippets of happy moments, because that’s all you could do. The only way I realized this was when I fell in love with Cara. Her eyes, they tell me every single second how much she feels for me. There was none of that with you. Ever. And so that night, I wanted to hurt you so badly to repay you for what you had done to me. But you had no heart. Your heart was empty. The only way I knew to get to you was to hurt you physically.” He chokes up as he says that last word. To speak about the pain that you inflict on someone else is a valiant thing because it verbalizes the monstrosity of your actions.

  “I didn’t press charges because I knew that I had caused you so much pain.”

  His eyes dart around the room as if checking to see whether Cara is around. “No, Jade. What I did is no one’s fault but mine. You didn’t deserve that. I am truly sorry for everything.”

  “I forgive you, Josh. I do. I wanted to come over to tell you that personally. I’m so glad that you and I have been blessed enough with our respective second chances.”

  “Chris. Is he your second chance?” We’re close enough to touch although we choose not to. I know it’s because of the white elephant in the room. The restraining order.

  “Yes,” I answer softly. “I’d like to think so, at least. He was robbed of the opportunity to meet his daughter. I’m dealing with that guilt right now, but he doesn’t seem to be lashing out about it yet.”

  “He will. You have to know that he will. Feelings can never be bottled up for too long. You and I have learned that. Just be there for him when that time comes. You’ll make it through this, Jade. We both will.”

  “I hope so,” I say as I place the empty wine glass on the side table and ready myself to leave. “I brought you a few things.” I hand him a shopping bag laden with items from our old home.

  “Thanks. What are they?” He reaches his hand in and starts to unload the contents of the bag. There are cards and little crafts made by Cia for the only father she ever knew. He centers his attention on a white cup that says “Stanley” on it. “My Stanley cup!” His eyes start to brim with tears. “Oh, and here’s my Number One Dad trophy, too.” Tears stream down our faces as we gaze down at his name, etched carefully on the trophy in a child’s handwriting. “She ruined my Swiss Army knife to engrave this. I’m still surprised she didn’t hurt herself.”