by Theresa Jane
He was all those things before something changed him. Then, he was nothing but the smudge on my brighter memories from before my mom died. He was the man casting shadows on my adolescence and my early twenties. I wanted him to be the man in my memories, but the man in the present had always kept him hidden from me.
“Freya, I’m trying…I promise you I am trying,” he spoke softly, pleadingly. “I have no right to ask you for another chance. I barely have the right to ask you to hear me out. I just want to explain, to apologize…for everything.” For a moment, all I could do was watch him. Watch the man who once stood so tall that his presence could fill a room, but now it was nothing but a flickering light, barely noticeable.
I looked at Mason, who was watching us both closely. When he saw I was looking, he gave me an encouraging nod, and I felt torn. I wanted my family. Part of me wanted to believe him, to forget it all and mend the cracks that had broken our family apart but another, stronger part of me wanted a clean break. It would be so easy for me to leave them all behind.
“You deserve so much more Frey, and I want to give it to you. I owe you so much. I owe you a life I took from you when we lost your mother.”
“Why?” I croaked, and he started at my voice, almost confused by the question. “Why did you blame me?”
“It was easier,” he sighed, his expression resigned. “If I blamed you, I didn’t have to face the reality.”
“I thought I had killed my mother. For years, I have believed that if I had just stayed home, Mom would be safe. She would be here with us and our family would have never been torn apart, barely able to face each other without that liquid poison the both of you turned to.”
“It was the only way I could get through what I had done. It was the only way I could live with myself.”
“Why?” I demanded, my fists curling at my sides. “What was so terrible that you hated me?”
“I got on the wrong side of some very powerful and very rich men. When I took on the case, I didn’t know how much trouble it would lead me into, but after several months working for the men, I began to realize that they were everything that was wrong with our legal system.
“The things they asked me to do and the lies I was told were endless. I tried to deny them once, told them to get another lawyer, but I already knew too much. They threatened me. Sent me pictures of you and your mother out shopping or when she was picking you up from school. Just so I knew they were watching.” He took a breath after that, seemingly trying to collect himself. I was frozen. There had been people watching me even before I left LA. This was too close to what had just happened to me. I wanted him to stop but at the same time, I didn’t. I needed to know.
“Are-are they still watching us?” I asked reluctantly, clenching my hands tightly in front of me to stop them from shaking. He ran a jittery hand through his hair before blowing out a big breath and continuing.
“No. Several months after the photos started being delivered to my office, a man from a government intelligence agency approached me.”
“Like the FBI?”
“Not quite. They were much more secretive, more covert. They gave me an option. Either I cooperate and work with them to bring the men I was working for down, or I would be sent to prison for a very long time. For all I knew, they could have sent me there forever.”
“What did they want from you?” I frowned, casting Mason a quick glance, but his eyes were glazed over. His hand was twitching slightly against his coffee mug. I could almost guess where his mind was wandering to.
“Information. They wanted to know everything I knew about the people I worked for. Unfortunately, I knew very little. For almost three years, I provided them with everything the men brought to me. Every strange case, every mundane conversation, until the month your mother died.
“There were rumors. Each time the men met with me, they became more and more anxious, and from the agents I spoke to, I knew they were getting closer to finally imprisoning the men. The rumors were that someone was leaking information. They needed to ensure all their outliers would keep their mouths shut." He stopped for a moment, his voice breaking with emotion before he seemed to swallow around a lump in his throat and began again.
“They didn’t know for certain that it was me, but they were suspicious. I tried everything I could to keep my connection with the agency hidden. The day your mother died, one of the men higher up was taken into custody, and a note was left on my desk. It said that I would pay for what I had done with the blood of my family.
“That night, when I fought with you, I was so tense from wondering if they would come barreling through that door that I was ready to explode. My family was at risk, and there was nothing I could do to protect them. No one from the agency would accept my calls, and I just felt useless. When I got that phone call…" he trailed off as we both had tears running from our eyes at the memory of that night.
Images of my mother flashed through my mind, lifeless on the sidewalk. I began to tremble with all the emotion, and all I wanted at that moment was for my dad to hold me, to remind me that despite everything I had seen and been through that the world could still be safe.
I wanted him to be the man I needed all those years ago when I had watched the life drain from my mother as the shots that stole her life rang through my ears. I wanted him to be my father.
I stumbled forward, wrapping my arms tightly around my father, taking in his familiar scent and drawing comfort from his warmth. After a moment of hesitation, his arms wrapped tightly around me as he whispered words of comfort and apology. He was sorry for how he reacted after my mother died, but he was sorrier that he had let it get so bad. He had been terrified that despite most of the higher up men being arrested that those who followed them would come back for me.
“I’m so sorry Frey. I will never be that man again. I wish there was something I could do to make it up to you. I wish I could go back. I wish…” he trailed off as we both landed on the same thought. He wished, like I did, that his wife and my mother was alive, but that would never be reality and we needed to learn to come to terms with the one we were living.
“I wish that too,” I whispered, pressing my face firmly against his chest like I had done when I was a child. I had always believed that he would keep the world out. I had believed that he would always be there to protect me, and I had that belief shattered in the most horrifying of ways.
“It was never your fault, Freya. I want you to know that. None of it. Not your mother, not how I became, and especially not what I did that day. None of it was your fault,” he stressed, holding me even tighter than before.
All I could do was let my tears fall, for everything that had happened since the death of my mother. The father and brother I lost. The illusions I had shattered. The home I would never be able to return to. The isolation I had suffered since moving to New York and the fear and uncertainty of what had only happened yesterday.
* * *
After my tears had dried, Mason thought it would be a good idea for Dad and me to get out. I knew he was trying to force us together under the guise of catching up on all that we had missed, but I had by no means forgiven my father. There was too much history to let it just flow freely under the bridge. There was still so much I couldn’t forgive him for, and maybe with time I would but for now, this was all I was willing to give.
Surrounded by the comforting smell of coffee, I let my mind wander as I waited for my father to return with our order. Unfortunately, it wasn’t easy keeping my mind away from a certain rock star who was currently on the screen of a girl's tablet.
She was sitting on the table over from me, engrossed in the story of the ‘stalker.’ That was the headline of the article with a photo of Liam and me inside the police station earlier this morning. They had somehow managed to get a shot through the doors of Liam gripping my shoulders as I turned from him, an unhappy look plastered across my face. There was another smaller photo in the corne
r of me getting into my brother’s car without Liam, which I was sure had sent teenage girls across the globe into a frenzy.
I couldn’t seem to escape him. The truth was I wasn’t even certain that I wanted this to end.
I wanted all the madness to end. I wanted everything in Liam's life to end, but I wanted to keep the Liam that I knew. The one that he kept hidden and only seemed to show when I was around.
I wanted the Liam from Amsterdam. The one who, even after a tiring show, still managed to make me feel like the most special girl in the world. The one who stood so his body slightly hid mine. The one who always made sure I was safe and comfortable. The one who gave me kisses so desperate and passionate it made my toes curl in anticipation. I wanted the Liam who made me smile even when all I wanted to do was cry.
I didn’t want the Liam from last night. I didn’t want the Liam who allowed the fame and hero worship to consume him, using it as his shield to keep everyone else out, even me. I did not want that Liam.
I was still consumed by my thoughts when my father returned with our two coffees. He had to call my name three times before I snapped back to reality.
“Frey?”
“Sorry, guess I was lost in a daydream,” I answered, shaking my head to clear my thoughts before cradling my scalding coffee with two hands.
“I wasn’t sure how you took it," he admitted guiltily, nodding toward my steaming cup.
“Black is fine.”
“I should have known that.”
“It’s fine, Dad,” I frowned, his name feeling foreign on my tongue. An awkward silence fell over us then, and I made no move to break it. I sat and drank my coffee, looking out at the other customers coming and going from the café.
The girl with the tablet had left and in her stead were three businessmen busy tapping away on their phones as they downed their coffees so fast I was sure it had burned their tongues. Then they were gone too and replaced by two mothers and their strollers, taking up more room than seemingly possible.
When my father finally tried to grab my attention again, one of the toddlers from the strollers had escaped and was using the table as a jungle gym. Neither one of the mothers stopped for breath to bother to scold the child as they spoke animatedly about who knows what.
“Freya,” my father started, and reluctantly I looked back at him. “I know I don’t deserve the title of your father, but I want you to know that if you ever need anything, I will pay for it. Mason has filled me in on how you have been living and then this mess with the rock-boy, and I want you to know you have options.”
“Thanks Dad,” I grumbled, feeling my temper begin to rise. Mason had no right to inform him of anything about my life. It was mine, not his, and it certainly wasn’t any business of my father’s. I was tired of people offering input on how I should live my life. The world had been doing it for months. I didn’t need my absent father doing it as well.
“I mean it, Freya, anything you want. You can finish college, buy an apartment, buy a gallery if you want,” he suggested helplessly, desperately trying to find something I would take from him but the truth was, I wanted nothing from him. I had made it this far on my own, and I could continue to make it without his assistance. I may be in a mess with an uncertain living situation, but I could fix my problems.
“I’m fine.”
"What about a trip? You always said you wanted to go to Europe and be among the great artists. Why don’t you travel?” he implored. “I just want you to be happy, Frey.”
“I know, but I don’t need anything,” I assured him, pushing my cup away and getting to my feet. “We should get back.”
“You should get away, Freya. I don’t think this boy is right for you.”
“Luckily, that’s not your choice to make,” I shot back coldly, angry that he would dare offer advice on my life.
“I just think-”
“Just drop it, all right. I can deal with it myself. I don’t need nor want your advice or criticism,” I all but growled back at him before I stormed out of the café, all too aware that he was always two steps behind me.
* * *
My father stayed that way all the way back to my brother’s apartment, and it only made me angrier by the second. I didn’t need a shadow watching my every move. Maybe he was right; maybe I should take a trip.
I was almost at the top of the few stairs out the front of Mason's building when I noticed a man sitting on the top of the steps in a very poor disguise.
A hat to cover his golden hair and sunglasses to cover his disarming eyes. When would he learn that the disguise didn’t work because it could never cover up what people couldn’t see? His aura seemed to emit something no one else ever does, or maybe it was just that I was always so drawn to him. So aware of exactly where he was and the distance between us.
“Freya,” he all but shouted, shooting to his feet and rushing down the few steps between us. “I need to talk to you.”
“Liam-”
“What are you doing here?” my father cut across in a defensive tone. He stood right beside me now, glaring down at Liam with a menace that would scare a grizzly bear. All I could think was that at least Liam had thought to have a shower before showing up here.
“Who are you?” Liam scowled, looking at my father with distaste and anger.
“I’m Frey’s father, and after the manner in which you have treated my daughter, I have a right mind to toss you out on your famous ass.”
"I guess we know you haven’t lost your violent streak,” Liam shot back challengingly. My father’s fists were clenched as tightly as Liam’s. They both seemed to puff out their chest like overstuffed turkeys. Was violence always a male’s go-to response to any confrontation?
“That’s enough,” I ordered, stopping my father before he could begin. Both men were looking at me expectantly, and I let out a tired sigh at their immaturity.
“Dad, can you…just go inside?” I shrugged in annoyance. I may have been angry at Liam, but at this point, I was going to take the lesser of two evils. Another hour with my father and I might have started to tear my own hair out.
“Frey-”
“Dad, please,” I prompted impatiently. He gave me a hurt look for a moment before shooting Liam a threatening one and reluctantly making his way up the stairs.
Once we were alone, I felt the tension that had been building since Liam had appeared start to crescendo.
“Can we talk?” Liam asked, looking at me expectantly, and I gestured toward the stairs. Both of us sat down side by side and each time I tried to put some space between us, Liam shuffled closer to lessen it.
“What do you want to talk about?” I asked flatly, looking blankly out at the passing traffic.
“Last night, the rest of the tour, everything,” he shrugged, his eyes staring at me intently. “I need to apologize, Freya. I-I…don’t want this, us, to end.”
“Liam,” I sighed, feeling tears sting the back of my eyes as I realized what I needed to say. What I needed to do to save my own heart. “This is too much. This…this isn’t the life I envisioned having. I-I…I don’t want any of this. You promised me this wouldn’t happen. You promised me you would keep me safe. Were you lying when you said that?”
“Freya no, I didn’t lie to you.”
“Then what? Because I don’t feel safe. You were the man I met at the start of all of this. What happened? Because for a moment there, it was perfect.”
“I know,” he groaned, burying his hands in his hair and pulling. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I panicked.”
“You panicked? Liam, you let Jebediah manipulate you. You know what he did. You were there,” I shouted, feeling my anger bubble over as my tears followed.
“I know, alright,” he yelled, shooting to his feet and starting to pace on the sidewalk. “I know. I was stressed with the tour, and then every time I saw you, all I could think about was everyone I lost, and I was waiting."
> “Waiting for what?” I demanded, looking down at him angrily.
“I was waiting for you to leave me,” he answered simply, his body stilling and his eyes finding mine again.
“Liam, you can’t do this. You need to get it out of your head that people are going to leave you. You need to see that maybe the reason they leave is that you push them. I never thought of leaving you, not once. Even when you would disappear in the middle of the night and you wouldn’t come back until right before your show. I never thought of leaving you. You are the only one who thinks that. This is your problem, not mine, and if you can’t see that, then I don’t know how we can ever move forward,” I finished in exasperation.
“You still want to be with me?” he asked, his eyes alight with hope, and I felt my own heart plunge.
“No...I don’t know,” I sighed. I had no idea what I wanted. It was all too fresh. My mind was a jumble of thoughts that I couldn’t keep straight. He was moving too fast again. He was making promises I didn’t know he could keep. I needed space; I needed time.
“Please, Freya, don’t leave me. I promise this time will be different,” he pleaded, almost crawling up the steps and nudging himself between my legs until he kneeled in front of me with his eyes locked on mine.
“I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll prove that I’m different. That me, the one from last night, he doesn’t exist anymore. I will never be that guy again. I want you to stay. You’re right, I do push people away, but I don’t want to do that to you. I was scared, but I promise this time I’ll be perfect. I will be the man you deserve, just give me another chance. Come with me tonight to the Christmas Eve launch party. Please, Freya.”
“Liam,” I started, but he had already cut me off.
“I’m not taking no for an answer. Think of this as your thinking time. I’ll prove to you that I’m not that guy. I’ll have Daryl come and pick you up at eight. Just, just give me one more chance, Frey," he pleaded as a black sedan pulled up to the curb. This was moving too fast. He was always moving so fast. I blinked, and suddenly we were somewhere else. It was impossible to keep up with his speed. His life was always on hyper speed. I always seemed to be left behind.