“Five bucks says Vanessa is writing her grocery list.” I nudge Tatum with my elbow and try not to laugh.
“Shh.” Tatum attempts to ignore me.
“Are you in for five? I’ll get up for a tissue, and I guarantee whatever she’s writing isn’t related to this meeting.”
“Rylan, behave!” she hisses under her breath.
“Last chance. Here I go.” I overtly brace the soles of my shoes to the floor, as if I’m about to get up.
“I’m not betting you.” She pulls me back in my seat. “I’d be an idiot to take that bet. I’ve been going to these meetings for a lot longer than you, and I’m more than aware that Vanessa is a bit self-involved.”
I glance over at the woman in question, who hasn’t looked up once to notice Tatum and I aren’t paying attention to the woman telling us about going off on a store clerk.
“A bit?”
Tatum takes these meetings so seriously sometimes. She needs a little loosening up. That’s all I’m trying to do. I sigh, looking around the group, and zero in on Perry. He glares at me from across the circle. I itch the side of my nose and discreetly give him the finger. There is no love lost between that man-child and me.
Perry attempted to call me out at the first meeting. He made assumptions and judgments about my life. He targeted me as the perfect, rich girl, only there to whine about first-world problems. He was so wrong. My biggest issue growing up wasn’t a life of high parental standards; that’s for sure.
“Perry needs a good lay.” The words out of Tatum’s mouth shock me a bit, especially during the meeting.
The middle-aged man’s face turns red with anger as he watches us watching him.
“Are you volunteering? Because I’m sure not.” There is a mock seriousness in my voice.
“No!” Tatum raises her voice a little too high, and a few group members look our way. She continues once their attention leaves, “I’m just saying that it would do him some good to go find someone to work off some issues with.”
“You won’t get any disagreements from me on that one.”
Perry is a bitter man who’s here because he couldn’t control his temper after his wife left him for a real man who actually treated her well. That last bit is my own assumption. I’d guess she cleared out his bank account, too. His attendance here is part of his custody agreement in order to get visitation rights back with his kids. However, it doesn’t seem to be going that well if I’m his biggest concern.
The meeting ends, and I have my freedom back.
No more required meetings! I can’t wait to send my paperwork over to my boss.
“Up for some coffee that isn’t old and watery?” Tatum asks.
“Sure. We seem to have made that a ritual after these meetings. We wouldn’t want to ditch it now.”
We gather our things, and we’re the first ones out the door. We walk and laugh at Perry’s contempt for me.
Inside the coffee shop, the barista smiles and starts to make us our drinks without needing to ask us for our orders anymore. Once we have our caffeine fixes, we take our regular spot in the back corner of the shop.
“Are you happy it’s over?” Tatum asks before taking a sip of her chai tea.
I don’t trust tea drinkers. I’m still trying to get over the fact that she’s one of them.
“I am, but I don’t think anger management was really the therapy tool I needed. I don’t have anger issues. I have childhood issues that go back way further than my lack of impulse control.” That’s probably an understatement on my part.
“What do you mean?”
“When I was very little, I had close to the perfect childhood. I never wanted for anything. My parents were happily married and very involved in my life. My mom was a little wild, but my dad always reined her in. But my childhood was split into two parts—at least, in my eyes.”
Perfect versus damaged.
“What happened?” There is a twinge of concern in her eyes, and I can already see her wheels spinning through all the possibilities.
“My dad died.”
After, I watched everything that was right with my world crumble and was completely powerless to stop it. I’ve attempted to move on, but every once in a while, it still feels like I’m tripping over pieces of debris.
I straighten and try to keep the mask from slipping down my face, stuffing my emotions down deep inside. The ache that takes over my chest when I think about my dad is currently present and accounted for. The silver lining is that I feel comfortable talking to Tatum about this. I feel a small piece of safety with her that I’ve only ever felt with Aria.
Rylan
Thirteen Years Old
The morning came too soon. Aria still soundlessly sleeps beside me. Her mouth hangs open, and her blonde hair fans across the pillow beneath her head.
She’s been my best friend since I met her at the bus stop on the first day of fourth grade, and she always will be. Despite our parents’ protests, we spend most nights at one or the other’s house. As long as we get our homework done promptly after school, they don’t put up a fight anymore.
I roll back onto my side and attempt to go back to dreamland. My lids are heavy and a yawn tickles the back of my throat.
I close my eyes, but I can hear Mom downstairs, and it gives me pause. Her voice is frantic, almost hysterical, and I open my eyes, wondering why she’s so upset. Her words are muffled, but it’s clear that something isn’t right. Aria stirs beside me, and I’m torn between hiding behind her and shaking her awake. She always knows exactly what I need and how to keep me calm.
What’s going on?
Footsteps sound on the steps to the second floor, and I go rigidly still as my door opens. My mom’s face is pale, and her cheeks are splotchy, red, and wet from crying. I know that whatever Mom is about to tell me is worse than anything my imagination could ever cook up.
“What is it, Mom?” I sit up, and instinctively, my hand links with Aria’s. My fingers feel like ice against her warm skin.
Her eyes slowly flutter open, and she pushes herself to sit next to me. She doesn’t let go of my hand as she pulls the covers higher around us and looks to my mom, who still hasn’t said anything.
“Sweetie, come here.” Mom’s voice breaks, and tears flood from her eyes.
“Just tell me. What’s happened?” I can’t bring myself to move closer.
“Rylan, honey, please come here.”
She steps farther into the room, and my breathing becomes shallow. Aria’s free hand braces on my back. Mom keeps coming toward my bed, and I just want to scream, to tell her to stop. She sits on the end of my bed and holds her arms open to me.
I can’t accept the embrace. I’m terrified of whatever she’s going to say.
Aria struggles to reposition between us, and I attempt to keep her from moving away from me. She never lets go of my hand while she bridges the physical gap between Mom and me. Her other hand takes hold of Mom’s, and her warmth comforts and connects us both.
“I don’t know how to say this…” She looks down, breaking eye contact with me.
Aria squeezes her fingers around mine.
“Then, don’t. Whatever it is, don’t say it. I don’t want to know.”
“Daddy is gone, baby.”
“What do you mean? Gone where?”
“Rylan, he passed. It happened while he slept. I don’t think he suffered any pain, but he isn’t with us anymore.”
No.
No. No. No.
She’s lying. That can’t be true. Dad isn’t sick. He’s invincible. He’s my hero. There is no way he could be gone.
Stuff like that doesn’t happen to good people. It doesn’t happen to people like me.
I have to see him. I need to know this isn’t true and that he’s downstairs, reading the morning paper and drinking his coffee. He’ll greet me like he does every morning as I walk down the stairs. This will all be cleared up the instant I see his beaming smile and hear his deep vo
ice.
My legs ache as I leap from the bed. After three steps, my knees buckle, and I hit the floor. I can’t go down there.
What if he isn’t there, waiting for me? What if bad things can happen to good people? What if this is really happening to me?
My heart falls from my chest, and my stomach revolts. My fingers scrape against the carpet. Utter disbelief and grief paralyze my body. My throat vibrates as a scream rips from my chest. Pain shoots through my body. A throbbing, unrelenting sting pierces me from the inside.
“Please! Please! Please!” I plead for something, anything. That I’ll wake up and learn this is all a bad dream. I ask for hope that Dad will come scoop me up off the floor and tell me everything is going to be okay. I try to use logic to will away the ache that’s already taken up residence in my heart.
But none of that happens.
Warm hands touch my skin, and I’m pulled into the embrace of my best friend. On the floor, Aria holds me. Her touch isn’t the one I was begging for, but she clutches me tightly and silently cries for the man she saw as a second father.
“I love you.”
I choke on my own sorrow.
“You’re going to be okay.”
I don’t know if that’s true.
“We’ll get through this.”
My mind shuts down.
“I’m always here for you.” Her words are meant to soothe, but there is nothing that can quiet this sort of suffering.
I can hear my mother’s sobs, but she doesn’t make a move to come and be with us.
I hear the front door open and close, and then Mom speaks for the first time since she dropped the news, “Aria, that’s your parents. I called them before I came in here.” Mom moves from the bed and crouches next to me. She extends her hand to me on the floor. “Get up, baby. You need to get up.”
Without thought, I take her hand, and Aria directs me back to the bed. I sit, my eyes fixed on the floor. Everything just shuts down. My mind goes blank, and my body barely functions. I sit and wait for my next direction.
“Rylan, I’ll be right back. Stay here, and I’ll come right back for you.” Aria’s words barely register.
I sit—not because she told me to, but because I’m not sure I can do anything else. Mom follows Aria out of my bedroom.
Then, I’m alone. Alone in the bedroom I grew up in. The room Dad would come into and check on me late at night, a place that has always been safe and comforting. It doesn’t feel like either right now. It doesn’t feel like anything.
Numbness has taken over the pain that I wished away. This emptiness is so much worse.
I attempt to rid myself of the nothingness.
I stand, and robotically, my feet move, leaving my bedroom. I take the stairs slowly, averting my eyes from the kitchen. I can’t bear not to see him sitting at the table, waiting for me. Aria’s mom’s voice comes from that direction, and I know that’s where they all are.
Once down the stairs, I turn and face a closed door. One foot moves over the other, and I continue forward. My hand twists the doorknob, and once the latch clicks, I can’t move fast enough. I need to be closer to him. I need my dad. Quietly, I shut the door behind me and take a deep breath. The smell that hits me is all wrong as I continue closer with fresh tears cascading over the dried wakes of tears already lost. I reach the side of the bed and see his face.
He’s my dad, the man who has taken care of me my entire life. He’s my home.
I sit next to him on the bed, and my hands shake as I reach for his. He looks peaceful, like he’s only sleeping, but never once in my life have I woken up before him.
Sirens wail in the distance, getting closer.
“Daddy?”
He doesn’t stir like I expect him to.
“It’s me, Rylan.”
Nothing. Not one movement of his chest or flutter of his eyes. It’s then that I notice how stiff his hand is in mine. He isn’t asleep, despite how peaceful he looks.
“I don’t know how to live in my world without you. Please don’t leave me.” But, deep down, I know he’s already gone.
The sirens grow louder as the bedroom door opens, and without looking, I know it’s Aria. Best friends have that sort of ability.
Her presence and strength fill the room as her hand grips my shoulder. “Come on. We have to go, Rylan.”
She urges me away from Dad, and my heart breaks into a million and one pieces. I can’t leave him. This can’t be the last time I see his face. This can’t be my last moment with him. I can’t let him go.
Clinging to his hand, I ask my dad for something he can’t give me. It’s rare that he doesn’t give me something I want, but this is beyond his control. “Please wake up, Dad. Please!” My voice rises in pitch and volume. “Get up! I need you to wake up. Don’t leave me. You can’t be gone. This can’t be happening.”
Aria can’t hold back her emotion any longer, and she shudders in a breath before a whimper leaves her lips.
“Please, Daddy, wake up!”
His hand is cold and lifeless in mine, and I hold it tighter, trying to warm it up like he used to do for me when I was little and it was cold out.
Red and blue lights flash outside my parents’ bedroom window.
“Rylan, please don’t do this to yourself. We need to go,” she begs while attempting to pull me away.
“Wait!”
Her struggle against me stops, and I straighten my back for the finality that’s coming. I lean down and kiss Dad’s forehead. His skin feels strange against my lips.
“Good-bye,” I whisper.
Aria rushes me from the house, and I let her drag me along, not caring where we are going or that I’m barefoot and in my pajamas. My mind shuts down to protect itself from reality. It’s easier to simply follow Aria’s directions. EMTs rush by me on our way out, and a flutter of hope soars through me that maybe they’ll be able to save him. Dad was the picture of perfect health. He bugged me yesterday about going on his eight-mile run with him. I was too busy with my homework.
I’m in a moving car before I realize it.
“What are you doing?” I can barely manage the words.
“Getting you out of there.” Aria concentrates sternly on the road in front of her.
“But you can’t drive.”
“For today, I don’t think that matters. Besides, it doesn’t seem too hard. I’m doing fine. We’ll stay in the neighborhood. A gated community doesn’t see much traffic. We’ll be fine.” The car jerks as she presses too hard on one of the pedals.
“Your mom will be pissed.”
“Our parents have bigger things to worry about. They probably won’t even notice.”
“I think we should go back, Aria. I need to be with Dad.”
My sight stays on the passing houses I’ve seen every day for my entire life, but today, they look different. She doesn’t stop or turn the car around.
“You said good-bye, Rylan. You don’t need to be there for the rest.”
What she means dawns on me. Those EMTs aren’t there to save him. They’re there to verify his death, and soon, someone will come to take him from his bed, his house, take him from me. My breathing begins to escalate. I concentrate on pushing away the panic, but worry flitters through my thoughts.
Those people are going to take Dad away from me. A vision of Mom crumpled over in the grass outside as they take Dad away, covered in a white sheet on a gurney, flashes through my mind. I fight to push the haunting image away.
I try to act normal, but nothing seems right. Aria is my safe place, but everything is off. My eyes dart around the car, and a different kind of panic seizes me.
Should I act like I’m having fun? Will I seem cold if I play that part? Should I be sullen and withdrawn? Will that project my awkwardness onto Aria? These petty insecurities rush into my head in an attempt to not focus on what’s really going on.
The death.
In one night, followed by one morning, my life has just changed fo
rever.
“Your turn. Think you can do better than me?” My best friend stops the car and offers me the wheel.
We switch places, and I drive.
On the day I’ve lost Dad, I drive a car for the first time with my best friend in the passenger seat, just being with me. There is no excitement or pride about the rebellious act. There is only grief and a need to escape.
Callen
Sweat drips down my face. My breathing is even and paced. The muscles in my legs contract and expand as my feet hit the pavement. I run hard against the cool wind. I’ve been in Connecticut for two weeks, and this the first moment that I haven’t been consumed with work.
Maplefield isn’t anything like Florida, which is still blistering hot this time of year, and it isn’t anything like Nevada where I grew up. Here, the towns are small, and the neighborhoods are quiet. It’s the type of place children can safely roam the streets. Nine out of ten people’s last names end with a vowel, and family-owned Italian restaurants are on every corner.
It’s a little too peaceful and a little too reserved for my tastes.
I won’t be staying long.
I never stay in one place longer than I have to.
Not one woman under the age of fifty inhabits my new neighborhood, which is a huge disappointment. I would welcome the chance to end this run with a bang. I’ve been amped up for days, and not even exercise is expelling my pent-up energy. I need a wet and willing pussy, and I need it before I do any more work.
My phone rings in my pocket, but I ignore it.
It rings again, and I grow frustrated.
“What?” I speak into the phone.
My contact for this job ignores my aggravation and replies, “The client was very pleased with your first job.”
“Yeah, and? Is there a point to this call, or is that it?”
His laughter pours from the phone. “Your mother never taught you manners, did she?”
“That bitch never taught me a thing. I don’t even know the woman.”
“It shows. Your first payment is at my office with my receptionist. You can pick it up whenever.” He hangs up.
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