I'll Be Yours

by Jenny B. Jones

  “Uh-huh.” I settled myself onto her love seat while she did her contortion pose to get comfy in her own chair.

  “So you skipped our last appointment. I knew you’d miss me.”

  Oh, to have some of this lady’s confidence.

  “What brings you by today?” she asked.

  “I don’t want to be here.” I was just a ray of sunshine these days. “But I think . . . I know I need to deal with some stuff before things change.”

  “What do you want to change?”

  “The uncertainty. The voices of doubt. The nightmares.”

  Devon nodded, seeming to be satisfied. “Are you ready to roll up your sleeves and get to work?”

  My sleeves would be staying where they were. “I think so. I guess I’m also ready to talk to you about Becky Dallas.”

  “Oh, you’re not going to talk to me.” Devon pulled her hair back and secured it with the elastic from her wrist. “You’re going to talk to Becky.”

  Fear shoved me hard. “What?”

  “Today we’re going to role-play.”

  Role-play? “Aren’t there some inkblots I could look at? Some puppets I could talk to?”

  “You should know I’ve talked to your parents about your bio-mom,” Devon said. “Done a little research. This could get very authentic.”

  I doubted that. I wasn’t exactly the type to go for emotional theatrics.

  Devon slipped off her glasses and looked at me with calculating eyes. Her voice lowered. “Hello, daughter. I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

  “Is that supposed to be my mother?” I rolled my eyes. “Seriously?”

  She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “Why don’t we talk about the night of the fire? I think we have two very different ideas of what happened.”

  “This is stupid.” I was getting better at this honesty stuff. “Maybe this was a bad idea. I don’t think I’m ready for this yet.”

  “You always were whiny,” Devon said.

  Her words hit their target. It was exactly what Becky Dallas would’ve said. “I think that’s enough for today. This is so not what I came for.”

  Devon’s lips pulled in a mocking smile. “You’re so weak. So very weak.”

  Good gosh, it was my mother. Those words were straight from Becky Dallas, as if she were taking over Devon’s body. “I’m not weak.”

  “You’re a weak little girl who couldn’t keep her mouth shut. Who couldn’t take care of herself. And who could never earn my love.”

  It was impossible to not defend myself. I’d waited too long. “Nothing I did made you happy. I did everything I could to be the best daughter to you.”

  “It wasn’t enough. You were never enough.”

  You were never enough. Words that had been tattooed on my heart my whole life. “The O’Malleys would tell you otherwise.”

  “And what else do these O’Malleys tell you?”

  “That I’m loved. That I’m worth it. That I don’t have to earn their love.”

  “You think your dad’s going to be there for you? He cheated on your mother. He cheated on your family.”

  “That’s still nothing compared to what you did. And you know why? Because he’s sorry. Because he’s contrite. Because he cares how it’s affected me.”

  “How convenient.”

  I sniffed back tears. “Forgiving him isn’t easy. I’m not even sure I’m there yet.”

  “You’re such a self-righteous brat. You never could keep your mouth shut.”

  “I never told anyone what my life was like. I never knew it could be better until I went to live with the O’Malleys. I have a real mother and a real father.”

  “Is that what they are?”

  “Yes!” My voice echoed in the small room. “You were supposed to take care of me. But you didn’t. You treated me like some annoyance you had to put up with. You never really loved me, did you?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I guess it doesn’t matter. Because I have what I need now. And you can’t matter to me anymore. I don’t have to stay locked in that room.”

  “Maybe you don’t deserve to be loved.”

  I could see Becky Dallas sitting there, and I wanted to tear her apart. “Every moment I’m an O’Malley smothers out the dark you were in my life. They’d never hit me, never starve me, and they would set themselves on fire before they’d ever lock me in a room and leave me to fend for myself.”

  Her twangy voice filled with venom. “It was an accident.”

  “I didn’t deserve that. I didn’t deserve any of that. And I’m through paying for it and letting it control my life.”

  “You’ll never be anything more than my daughter. You’re going to be just like me, aren’t you?”

  “You don’t know me.” I stood up and threw the couch cushion to the floor. “You’re never going to know me, so let me tell you about myself. It turns out I’m a fabulous person. I’m smart, kind, I have friends and a future. I have no idea where I’ll be this time next year, but I know the O’Malleys will be right beside me. They taught me about faith and love. They gave me hope and safety. They showed me what real love looks like. It’s unconditional and constant.” The words burned like a brand in my head, and I finally knew they would be permanent. “I hope you know it one day. I pray you wake up and regret what you gave up, all the years you’ve wasted. I don’t know what anyone ever did to you, but I hope you never treat another human being like you’ve treated me. I used to beg God every night that you’d love me. I thought I wasn’t good enough for my prayers to be answered. Then the O’Malleys came for me. And they never let me go.”

  “You can have them. Go back to your rich life.”

  “I’m not rich, but I am better than this. I deserve to be loved and protected. I deserve happiness and a chance. With you, I didn’t have any of that. And you still can’t offer it to me now. I’m through trying to be someone you could love. I’m not the problem. All this time, it’s been you.”

  “And what are you going to do about it?”

  “I . . . I want you to know I intend on forgiving you. One day. One day soon.”

  Becky Dallas scoffed. “I don’t believe I asked you to.”

  “Consider it a free gift. When I quit hating your guts, I’m going to absolve you of every slap, every time you turned your head while some new boyfriend did whatever he wanted, every ugly, evil word out of your mouth. It’s over, Becky. I refuse to let those things have a hold over me anymore.” I breathed in the victory and exhaled a little bit more of the past. “My name is Harper O’Malley, and I’m the best thing that ever happened to you.”

  My voice reverberated in my head, and I suddenly became aware of where I was. Of who I was.

  And who the woman in front of me was not. “Oh my gosh.”

  I stood in front of Devon McTavish with my legs braced, as if I was about to deflect a blow—my finger pointed in accusation, and fire flaming in my belly. The sleeve on my extended arm had drawn up, flashing my scars.

  And I didn’t even care.

  My skin tingled with invisible electricity, and my head spun as if the pressure in the room had leaked away.

  I collapsed into the love seat, threw my head in my hands.

  And cried.

  “Harper?” Devon asked after some moments. “Harper, are you okay?” Her voice was softer now. I no longer heard Becky Dallas.

  “I don’t know what came over me.”

  Devon handed me a box of tissues. “Healing,” she said. “Healing just came over you.”

  “Just like that?” I blew my nose into the pink Kleenex.

  “You’ve still got a long road. You’ve kept all that stuffed inside a long time. It can’t be fixed with one conversation. But you just took some giant leaps.”

  “And yet what does it change?” I grabbed another tissue and blotted my eyes. “My dad’s still the guy who cheated on my family. I’m still the girl who can’t get it together and be a girlfriend.�
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  “I think once you get Becky Dallas totally out of your head, you’re going to get the clarity you’re looking for. Today you just threw out a bunch of her baggage.”

  “There’s still a very heavy carry-on somewhere in my head,” I said.

  Devon smiled. “Then that will give us something to talk about next week.”

  Oh, geez. She expected me to come back.

  “You said you were up for this,” Devon reminded me. “It’s time to fight for your happiness. Do you believe you can do this?”

  I did.

  It was time to stop being the child of Becky Dallas.

  And time to be an O’Malley.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  An hour later, I sat in my car in Ridley’s driveway, wondering what I was doing there. I’d gone home after seeing the counselor, intending to do homework until time to leave for Andrew’s show, but it had been impossible to focus. I felt like I’d sprinted a marathon carrying a refrigerator. My body was exhausted, my soul was spent. I had to talk to someone.

  And I was watching the house of the only person who’d understand.

  I dropped my head to the steering wheel, letting the cool of the leather press against my hot cheeks. I closed my eyes and whispered a prayer.

  Then jumped when someone knocked on my window.

  “You going to camp out in my driveway?”

  Ridley leaned against my door, and I couldn’t help but notice the way his henley tugged over his chest. While my attention to boy parts was a welcome sign of improving mental health, I didn’t want to be aware of his. I made a mental note to fantasize about Andrew at first opportunity. And not this boy wearing a rakish grin, whose superhuman arrogance seeped through the steel of the car.

  “Couldn’t stay away from me?” Ridley asked from the other side of the window.

  “I thought it was a tutoring night.”

  “It’s not.” He walked around the car and got in the passenger side. My little Civic was not made to carry big boys of football. He shut the door, his body filling up the space, his nearness filling my senses. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

  “I was in the neighborhood.”

  “Selling Girl Scout cookies?”

  “No.” I would not cry.

  “Hey.” He palmed my cheek, running his thumb across my skin. “Talk to me, O’Malley.”

  The words tumbled out in a frenzied mess. “I saw my mom today. I mean, I went back to that counselor lady, and she pretended to be my mom, and it was really, really dumb, but then it got seriously real, and I have no idea why, but I yelled at her, and it felt so good just to say all that because I meant every one of those things.”

  “I have no idea what you just said.”

  “I went to see the counselor today.”

  “The nosy one who keeps asking about Becky Dallas?”

  “That’s the one. She acted like she was my mom, and I told her how I felt.”

  “And how do you feel?” Ridley asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Maybe you’re charging some of Becky’s hurts on your dad’s account?”

  “She really screwed me over. I’ll never know why she did the things she did. Why she couldn’t love me like I needed her to.” I knew he understood this part.

  “Substance abusers are selfish people.”

  “Is that all it was? If it wasn’t just the drugs, then I never truly mattered. And I wasn’t enough.”

  “Maybe not. But I’ve seen you with your parents. You’re enough for them.” Ridley gathered me to him, pressing his lips to my hair. “You have no idea what the rest of us see, do you?”

  “A supermodel in denial?”

  “You don’t need Becky Dallas to love you to be amazing. You’re smart, you’re funny. You like cutesy music and you have the biggest heart I’ve ever seen.”

  “It’s just padding.”

  He framed my face now, and I met his stare in the dark of the car. “I think you’re beautiful.”

  My heart folded like an origami swan. This was the boy I couldn’t have. Saying all the right things. “You don’t mean that.”

  “I think I know pretty girls. But you’re more than that. You’re the best person I know. You try to see the best in people, and if you can’t, you try to fix them. And you agonize over everyone in your life, even some dog you pass on the street. There’s no one more caring than you.”

  “I bet your sisters would say the same about you.”

  “It kills me to see you judge yourself by mistakes other people have made.”

  “I can’t help it.” Though I was a tiny bit closer to leaving it behind.

  “It’s a choice,” Ridley said.

  “Kind of like your football future?”

  He sighed. “You had to ruin the moment.”

  I smiled. “We should probably make a rule for that. By the way, where were you today?”

  “Home with Emmie. She can’t go back to day care until tomorrow. Did you miss me?”

  “I think . . .” I thought of the kiss that we’d yet to discuss. Andrew’s request to end tutoring. “We should probably talk about—”

  His passenger door opened and Faith leaned in. “Are you guys kissing out here?”

  “No.” Ridley kept his eyes trained on me. “Harper got handsy, but I pushed her away.”

  Faith rolled her eyes with tween precision. “There’s a guy on the phone. Says he’s from Ohio State and wants to talk to you.”

  Ridley didn’t even hesitate. “I’m not home.”

  “Yes, he is.” My phone lit up in the console, and Andrew’s name flashed on the screen. “The concert!” I snapped my seat belt back in place. “I’m late for Andrew’s show.”

  Ridley took his time getting out of the car, only to duck his head back in. “I’m glad I was the one you came to,” he said.

  I turned the key. “Thanks for listening.”

  “Oh, and Harper?”

  “Yes?”

  “We will have that conversation.”

  * * *

  I drove faster than a respectable citizen of Maple Grove should’ve, speeding through two yellow lights and rolling through a final Stop sign, finally arriving at the Ulysses Theater on 21st Street. Once an old opera house, it now served as an art venue, home of concerts and really bad community theater.

  “Five dollars, miss,” the man at the door said.

  I frantically searched my wallet in vain. “Do you take debit card?”

  “No, I’m sorry, we—”

  “You’re too late.”

  I turned at the familiar voice, dread sinking in like a feral cat’s claws. “Andrew.”

  He stood there in his Mushroom Cloud Raincoats shirt and his disappointed frown. “We played a half hour ago.”

  “I’m so sorry. Something really important came up, then I kind of got delayed.”

  “With Ridley.”

  “No.” The lie slid right off my tongue, and I tried to call it back. “I mean, that’s not why I’m late.”

  “But you saw him.”

  “I did, but that’s not—”

  He turned, pushing through the doors and walking into the dark.

  Leaving me.

  I rushed after him, finding him standing in the parking lot, his face shadowed in the glow of the theater marquee. “Don’t be mad,” I said. “You have no idea what that does to me.”

  “How about what it does to me to know you’re seeing Ridley Estes?”

  “I’m not dating him. We’re friends. That’s it.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yes.”

  “You left school today, then didn’t answer any of my texts. I’ve been worried. And then you tell me you’ve been with Estes?”

  “That doesn’t mean we’re huddled up and making out.”

  Andrew ran a hand over the light scruff on his face. “I can’t do this, Harper.”

  I had wanted him for so long. I had a list of required attributes for boyfriends, and
Andrew checked every box. Only a fool would let this go. “You’re the one I want to be with.”

  “It doesn’t look that way.”

  “I can’t share everything with you. Not yet.”

  “But you can with him.”

  There was quicksand beneath me, and I was sinking fast. “I’m . . .” I couldn’t quite make sense of it myself. “It takes me a long time to open up. I haven’t known you long enough to tell you about the wreck that’s my life. The mess that’s me.”

  “Have I done anything to make you not trust me?”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Have I?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “You tell me what you want, Harper. Are you in this relationship or not?”

  A line had been drawn. On one side stood Ridley, that enigmatic, heat-inducing boy who had become my confidant, my friend. But he was just as scarred as I was, irrational, unpredictable—and God only knew where he was headed.

  On the other side was Andrew. Sweet, gentle, Andrew. With his musician’s heart and that innocent face. He was stable, solid. A boy you brought home to meet Dad. One who Becky Dallas would’ve never gone for. One would make me picnics under shade trees. The other was out of my league and serial-dated girls pretty enough to be in perfume ads. Ridley would break my heart, and I didn’t know if I could survive any more hurt. All my life I had longed for safety. Nice, calm, predictable safety. Andrew was just that.

  “It’s you,” I said. “I choose you.”

  A lonesome tune sounded from inside as another band took the stage. The base thudded hard enough to rattle the doors, and I wondered how many choruses they’d sung before Andrew finally spoke.

  “I want you to be sure.”

  There was too much space between us, and I closed it. “You’re the right guy for me.”

  Andrew reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out what appeared to be a necklace. “I made something for you. It’s probably stupid. I was gonna give it to you before the show.” He opened his hand. Sitting in his palm was a guitar pick on a silver chain. “It’s my first pick. I carry it with me everywhere I go. It means a lot to me, and I thought . . . I thought you might wear it.”

  Something heavy pressed at my chest, pushed on my heart. But I smiled into my boyfriend’s eyes. “I’d love to.”