Unwritten

by Kiki Hamilton

  I glanced at my father’s face, but his expression hadn’t changed. His eyes were closed, his mouth partly open to accommodate the breathing tube that was still down his throat, his jaw sagging in drug-induced relaxation. Around him though, chaos broke loose.

  Another machine started giving a warning noise: whirrrrp whirrrrp and I could see jagged red lines spiking up and down on the monitor screen in a suddenly irregular pattern. Like an all-hands-on-deck call, the nurses scrambled, barking out commands.

  “Sir, I have to ask you to leave the room.” I was escorted from the small glass cubicle to stand helplessly outside and watch as one-by-one the machines began emitting warning signals.

  The loud speaker suddenly came to life. “Dr. Winthrop to ICU 2 – stat.”

  Two nurses leaned over my father’s chest, adjusting this and that and measuring something else. One of the nurses whirled around and pulled a curtain, so from that point on I could only see their feet. But I could still hear the irregular beeping, the warning alarms and their hurried conversation.

  The doctor sprinted by without giving me a glance.

  With each beep my heart leapt in my chest as I stood helpless outside his door only able to listen. The beeping increased to a frenzied pace then in one last wild heartbeat—the noise changed to a steady drone and in my mind I could see the flat line that stretched across the screen.

  Thirty minutes later they confirmed my father had died.

  Through the complete and utter shock that engulfed me, one thought kept going through my mind, like a red line spiking on one of those machines: he’d left without saying goodbye.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  When I got to work on Friday both Jessie and Ryan were already there. They were standing in a corner talking intently when I arrived and Jessie didn’t look happy. When Ryan saw me, he headed my way.

  “Hey Lex,” he slid his hands into his pockets and sauntered over. “How’s it going?”

  I eyed him warily. “Fine.” Actually, the day sucked. I’d stayed up half the night contemplating my life—or the lack of one. When I’d finally drifted off, I’d slept like crap. This morning I’d spilled coffee on my shirt just as I was ready to walk out the door, my hair was impossible and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen.

  “Jessie said she’d watch Dylan tonight and I wondered—want to go get a drink? There’s a great little sushi bar that opened downtown.”

  I guess I didn’t hide my surprise very well.

  He grinned at me. “What? You don’t have to look like that. C’mon. Let’s get to know each other again.” His grin faded and he looked at me with surprising sincerity. “Really, Lex. Can we start over?”

  “Why don’t I watch Dylan and you and Jessie go get a drink?” My mood had not improved with his invitation. If anything, it was worse. I was being spiteful and I knew it, but I couldn’t stop myself. “You two seem to enjoy each other’s company.”

  Ryan’s brows pulled down in a frown. “What are you talking about?”

  I turned away and went to put my apron on. I didn’t want to fight with Ryan. Well…really, I did want to fight with Ryan. I wanted to tear his bloody head off and spit in his neck, just to let him know how much I despised him and what he’d done to me, but sadly, that wasn't really an option. Inaccessibility was my second best choice. I’d just politely say no. The further I could stay away from him, the better.

  “Exactly what I said,” I snapped, my evil twin whispering, what happened to ‘just say no?’ “You and Jessie seem to be joined at the hip now. Why don’t you take her?”

  “Lex—” Ryan held his hands out from his sides in protest. “Jessie’s like my little sister.”

  “But she isn’t your little sister, is she?” I was surprised icicles didn’t form on his face where my breath brushed his brow. “And you aren’t really part of our family, are you? At least, you weren’t until you bought your way in.”

  His eyebrows shot up and his mouth dropped open to form a little ‘o’.

  Anger and pain that had been suppressed for the last three years bubbled into my chest and out my mouth in words I never intended to say. But I leaned closer and let him have it.

  “You might think all your apologies and the ass-kissing you do to my mother and father somehow right the—” my fingers were like claws as I pulled quote marks in the air— “mistakes you’ve made, but the truth of the matter is—you didn’t give a shit about anyone but yourself when you slept with that slut. You didn’t give one second of thought to how I might feel—your girlfriend of over four years—until you got caught by getting her pregnant. Then suddenly you were sorry. Well, I’ll tell you what, Ryan—sorry isn’t going to cut it. Not then. Not now—” I spit the last words out like venom— “not ever.”

  Ryan looked like a hand grenade had gone off at his feet and he was being thrown backwards through the air from the concussion. I yanked the apron over my head and threw it on the floor. For one brief second I saw Jessie and Dad standing at the end of the aisle with their mouths hanging open. Then I turned and ran.

  I DIDN’T CRY. In fact, when I got in the car I pumped my fist in the air and let out a rebel yell. (Thank you Billy Idol.) I’d been longing to tell Ryan off since I’d found out the depth of his betrayal that summer. Those few moments of indulgence were more liberating than I’d ever dreamed—because that explosion also cleared my mind enough to know where I needed to go from here: away from Ryan and the bad memories his presence conjured, away from West Family Hardware and away from Oliver, the impossible dream.

  I needed to go home to New York and find my own life. The one that was still unwritten.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  The next week was a blur. Arrangements to be made. Bodies to be cremated. Flowers to be ordered and announcements to be written. All the while I had the strangest sense that I was trapped in a nightmare and needed to wake myself up to escape. Yet, there was no escape.

  My father died because the ‘weakening in the heart wall’ the doctor had so casually mentioned gave way and blew out the side of his heart. Could they have done something different and saved him? I don’t know. Though it would be easy to place blame, my brothers and I truly believed the doctors had done what they thought was necessary to save him. But it didn’t change the fact that there was a hole in my heart that hadn’t been there a week ago.

  For the first time in my life I’d lost the ability to focus. I’d start in one room in my father’s house only to find myself sitting in another, thumbing through an old photograph album or staring at a picture on his wall. Every drawer I opened seemed to be a Pandora’s Box of memories. It wasn’t any better going to the office. The looks of sympathy were unbearable, like an echo of my pain reflected on face after face.

  It didn’t help that I couldn’t reach out to Alexis. I wanted to apologize all over again about Simone, to tell her that I’d lost my father—but when I imagined the conversation in my head I sounded weak and needy and worst of all—untrustworthy. Because even though I hadn’t known Simone was coming to Seattle, I did still have a relationship with her and I wasn’t being totally honest with either of them. Even though I’d made the decision to end things with Simone I hadn’t yet told her and therefore, I was guilty.

  THE FUNERAL WAS scheduled for Sunday. I delayed telling Simone until Friday. She wanted to fly in from New York but I told her not to come. I couldn’t handle Simone, knowing what I planned to do upon my return to New York, and my father’s funeral at the same time.

  “Oliver, you don’t really love me or else you would want me there!” she shouted in the phone before she hung up on me.

  I looked helplessly at the phone and then threw it across the room. Damn straight.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  “I’m going back to New York.” My mom and I were alone in the kitchen. “I checked flights and I can get a cheap redeye out of SeaTac on Saturday, so I booked it.” I’d decided I wasn’t going to bring up th
e hardware store scene from this morning. If my dad or sister wanted to tell mom—they could have at it. But I was out of here. “I need to get back to my life there.”

  Mom turned from the counter where she had poured herself a cup of tea. “Alexis, are you sure? You just took the job at the store.”

  “And I just quit the job at the store this morning.” I gave my mom a pleading look. “I can’t do this Mom. I’ll work two jobs if I have to but I want to write. I want my own life. And it’s not here.”

  She came and sat at the table with me, a spiral of steam rising from her brown cup. “But it’s so nice to have you home, honey. I’ve missed you so much this last year.”

  “I know, Mom, but there’s nothing for me here now. I don’t want to work in the store. I never have—I never will. And I’m sorry, because I know he’s important to you and Dad—but I don’t want to be around Ryan, either. I left him behind for a reason.”

  “I’m sorry, Lexie.” Her brow wrinkled with pain. “We should have thought more about how the partnership might affect you.”

  Though her words were nice, it was too little too late. Whether she admitted it or not, at this moment, Ryan was more a part of the family than I was. As if to confirm my thought Dylan walked into the room, dragging his red blanket behind him.

  “Mimi, I’m hungry.” He was so cute, I could understand why my family loved him. To them, he probably looked like the future. But he wasn’t my future.

  THE ONLY MOMENT of hesitation I had was right before I walked onto the plane. I wondered if I would ever see Oliver again, but in my heart I knew I would be better off if I didn’t. He was going to be in Seattle for the next six weeks caring for his father during his rehabilitation. Then he would return to his life in New York with Simone. Now, was the perfect time to leave, before I made a fool of myself. I needed to start fresh. From this moment forward I was finding the life of my dreams.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  It took an entire night of pacing but I finally made a decision. There was only one way forward from here. I needed to tell Alexis the truth. About my feelings—about my intentions with Simone—about everything. I would lay bare my soul and trust in Fate.

  I CALLED ALEXIS’ cell on Saturday afternoon but received one of those ‘this number is no longer in service’ messages. It was some mistake, one of those annoying electronic glitches that happen too frequently, but still, a strange knot formed in my stomach. What if it wasn’t?

  HER MOTHER ANSWERED the phone when I called Alexis’s parent’s house that evening. I could tell because her British accent was a stronger version of her daughter’s. I was oddly nervous and wiped my sweaty palm down the side of my jeans again.

  “Hallo?”

  “Hello, yes, is Alexis in?”

  There was a pause. “Alexis has returned to New York. May I ask who is calling?”

  My heart sank. She’d left without saying goodbye? This was becoming a disturbing pattern in my life. I sucked in a deep breath to steady my voice.

  “It’s Oliver Beckett. I’m a friend.” Though as I said it I wondered if it was a true statement. I thought fast. If Alexis had changed her cell number, as I now suspected, I had no way to contact her in New York. “Do you think I could get her number back there? I’d like to give her a call.”

  This time the hesitation was longer.

  “Alexis has a non-published number. Let me take your number, Oliver, and I’ll give her the message.”

  I was stuck. There was nothing I could do but give the woman my number.

  “All right, then,” she said in a cheery voice. “I’ll be sure to have her ring you.”

  “Thank you.” I clicked end and stared at my phone. If only I’d called her immediately after Simone had shown up, maybe I could have fixed this. Or even the next day. The way things stood now—I doubted Alexis would return my call.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  IT WAS LATE when I landed at JFK. Dad had insisted I take a cab rather than the subway back to the apartment at that time of night so I gazed out the window at all the bright lights and familiar landmarks like a tourist. I was so happy to be back, tears welled in my eyes.

  I HADN’T GOTTEN through the last of the deadbolts before Nandini yanked the door open.

  “Oh my God, where the hell have you been? I was wondering if I was ever going to see you again.”

  I didn’t realize how much I’d missed her until that second. She wrapped her arms around me and hugged tight.

  “You’ve been gone forever.”

  “I know!”

  She released me and helped tug my suitcase through the doorway. “Tell me everything that has happened! Did you see the evil ex-boyfriend? What has happened with Oliver Beckett? I just read that Simone Bouchard has signed with the Ford Agency and is going to be living in New York.”

  I paced to our tiny kitchen and grabbed a cup of water. The last person I wanted to talk about—or think about—was the Beast. I did not care that she was going to be living in New York with Oliver. I didn’t.

  “There’s nothing to tell. You were right. Oliver is with Simone. Let’s not talk about them ever again. How is school going? Any cute law students I should know about? What’s new at Antoine’s?”

  Nandini, bless her, picked right up on my less than subtle cue. “The same. Richard is terrorizing everyone. I miss you there. Are you going to ask him for your job back?”

  I laughed. “I don’t think Richard wants me back after the hair episode.”

  “Wait.” Nandini plunked down cross-legged on the floral couch. “Did I not tell you?”

  “Tell me what?”

  “Apparently, Oliver called Richard the day after you got fired and told him that Simone had put her own hair in the dinner.”

  My glass clunked to the countertop. “Oliver did WHAT?”

  “Yes.” Nandini bobbed her head up and down. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you. I overheard one of the managers talking about it. I guess you really pissed her off that night. Wasn’t that sweet of Oliver to totally rat her out?” Nandini smiled. “So I do think Richard would give you your job back if you asked very nicely. Let’s go over tomorrow before we open for lunch. You can talk to him then.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  The day of my father’s funeral dawned sunny and clear, like a reflection of my dad—he always had the ability to find the good in things. I dressed in my black suit, a horrible sense of dread and disbelief filling me. I couldn’t wait for this day to be over.

  THE SERVICE WAS a bittersweet combination of love, pain, loss and humor. We laughed, we cried and we celebrated my father’s life. He would have enjoyed it. Estelle was there but for once she left me alone. I don’t know if my brothers had requested the unusual behavior but I was grateful.

  THAT EVENING I sat alone in Dad’s great room, gazing out at the view of Lake Washington and the city in the distance. Both Nick and Phil had invited me to stay with them, but I was better here. There was a sense of relief at having the funeral behind us. Now I could process my loss at my own speed without public observation.

  Memories came and went—reflections of the past that were random. I remembered him asking when I’d first arrived home about who I was dating and promising to introduce him to the French model. That memory forced me to imagine introducing my father to Simone. I shook my head. I could already hear him saying out of the side of his mouth, ‘what the hell, Oliver, you must be moving up the world.’ Which meant it was as hard for him to imagine me with Simone as it was for me to imagine introducing her to him.

  I took a sip of my red wine and imagined introducing him to Alexis. That was an easier scene to picture. It wouldn’t have taken long for the two of them to be joking together—probably at my expense. If only Dad had lived long enough to meet her. He would have appreciated Alexis’ sharp wit.

  I heaved a long sigh.

  So many if only’s.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Surprisingly enough, Richard
did give me my job back, but I had to sign the paper about the dress code again.

  “And you must take extra precautions with your hair, Alexis. Have you ever thought of cutting it?”

  Instead of answering I’d snapped off a sharp salute and skipped out the door. Literally, skipped. Richard hissed something toward my back, (I don’t think the man had the ability to yell—it would be so inappropriate) probably telling me to walk but I ignored him. I was back in New York and I had a job. Now all I had to do was write a new book and I would be right back on track to achieving my goal of becoming a published author.

  I WAS NERVOUS the first night back at Antoine’s but Richard started me on a Tuesday, which was typically the slowest night of the week. This time he only gave me four tables and I was able to keep up without any problem.

  “Well done tonight, Alexis,” he’d said as I was closing out my final tabs. “Table three made a point of complimenting your service.”

  I hummed all the way to the subway. It wasn’t until I walked down the stairs to catch the Six train from Midtown back to my apartment that my happy bubble burst. There, behind one of those bigger-than-life Plexiglas holders, was the Beast’s face in a Chanel No. 5 ad. Her black hair was blown back as if she was riding in a convertible with the top down and long diamond earrings dripped from each ear. She wore some frothy concoction of lace that looked obscenely expensive, yet she was unsmiling. Why was her picture in the subway when she never even took the subway?

  “Beast,” I whispered under my breath before I turned away. I could just imagine her plucking her own hair to dunk it in the mole sauce. What in the world did Oliver see in her? But the answer was obvious. She was beautiful and wealthy and she had her picture in the subway. I, on the other hand, was a waitress. Something versus nothing. Not a difficult choi—, but I stopped the thought before it was complete. My mother’s voice echoed in my ear with words of wisdom she had given me after some drama in high school: Alexis, you will never be the smartest or the richest or the most beautiful—there’s always someone who will beat you—but you can always choose to be the happiest.