“She may not be willing to take you back, Eric. Prepare yourself for that.”
And there it is. My deepest, darkest fear materialized. What if this is truly the end for Raven and me? Friends, lovers, soul mates—all of it. What if saying goodbye is the last defining moment, the last real impact, we’ll ever have on each other’s lives?
I’m distracted when my phone lights up and vibrates beside me on the bed. I pick it up and swipe the screen to read the text.
Chase: Just checking in to make sure you’re alive.
As I’m about to type a response, Dr. Coleman pipes up. “Put down the phone and pay attention. You’re wasting valuable time.”
I sigh and toss the phone aside, then sit up and concentrate on him.
“Good. Now listen up. Here’s what I want you to do; I want you to call your mom and set up a time for the two of you to sit down and have a conversation.”
“Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get ahold of that woman?” I ask, almost laughing. “You may as well be asking for Jesus Christ himself.”
“I sincerely doubt it’s as hard as you're making it out to be. You’ve gone to great lengths to avoid her. Now I’m holding you to our deal. If she refuses, then we’ll readjust. But the effort needs to be made. No excuses.”
“Are you going to prescribe me something to get through that encounter?” I half joke.
“Why are you so quick to try and suppress your feelings? Not every emotion is bad. Sadness and pain have their rightful place in the spectrum.”
“When you’ve been dealt the lion's share of both, it’s nice to experience something else for a change.”
“I’m not referring you to someone for a prescription. You just want to take the easy route, which is an illusion. It’s a temporary fix for a deep-seated problem. You and your mom need to hash this out properly.”
“But I’m in emotional distress.”
“I can see that,” he acknowledges. “But it's nothing out of the ordinary given the circumstances. You’ve self-medicated in the past. Did it ever make your problems go away? For more than a few hours?”
I narrow my gaze. “Fine. You win. I’ll call my mom and ask her to meet up. No guarantees, though.”
“I’m only asking you to give it a shot. Text me if you get ahold of her and we can set a time for our next session and discuss it.”
“Can’t wait,” I respond sarcastically.
“Eric?”
I glance at him, fully prepared to be chastised.
“Great job today. I’m proud of you.”
His words create a deep, rippling impact. I blink a few times. My lungs deflate, completely caught off guard. I can’t remember the last time anyone said that to me. It’s comforting to hear I’m doing something right. Especially when I’m putting all this effort in.
“Hang in there, okay? Keep me posted if you decide to come back early so we can meet in person,” he says.
“Will do. Thanks for not giving up on me.”
“Thanks for not giving up on yourself. Until next time.”
“Later.”
I end the call and close my laptop. With a light toss, it lands on the foot of the bed. I slip my hands behind my head and lie back to stare up at the ceiling. It's so quiet here. Nothing but waves and birds and chill vibes for miles. Gives me ample time to self-reflect and face all of my issues, which is exactly what I came here for.
Remembering Chase’s text, I roll over to the side and grab my phone to reply.
Me: Yeah. All good. Thanks for asking. How’s everything back home?
I’m assuming he knows what I’m getting at.
Chase: Same old. We all miss you.
Me: How are my girls?
It takes him a few minutes to respond.
Chase: One is currently moving in with me, and the other is moving to Cali in a month. She got accepted to a couple design schools out there. We’re all throwing her a surprise farewell party at Bellotti’s next Friday night. Just in case you want to show up...
My stomach plummets. I sit up straight and swing my legs to the floor. She’s leaving? In a month? That’s not enough time. Was she ever planning on telling me?
Me: Which schools did she get into?
Chase: No idea. Sorry, dude. I’m not much help.
Me: Do me a favor and find out. That’s a big deal.
Chase: I’m on it.
Me: Congrats on convincing Mia to move in with you, btw. She clearly doesn’t know what she signed up for.
First real joke I’ve cracked in months.
Chase: Come back here and tell her that yourself.
Me: Nice try. Too soon. Nothing’s changed.
I switch over to my contacts list and pull up Raven’s number. For several minutes, I go back and forth on whether or not to push the call button and congratulate her. She’s worked so hard for this and it’s too important for me to skip out on. Then again, she didn’t tell me anything. If she wanted me to know, she would’ve told me the news herself. I don’t want to infringe on her happiness. I’ve done that enough over the last few months. She deserves to bask in this moment.
Even though it goes against everything in my nature, I press the back button and force myself to search for my mom, instead. I dial what I’m guessing is still her number, raise the phone to my ear, and dread the next however many seconds of uncertainty. On the fourth ring, she picks up.
“Hello?”
“Mom?”
Rustling noises ensue.
“Eric? Is that you?”
Several beats of silence pass before I answer.
“Yeah. Listen, I need a favor. It’s important.”
“What’s going on?”
“We need to have a conversation. In person.”
“Why? Did something happen? Are you okay?”
I’m momentarily stupefied by her concern. Did she just feign interest in my well-being? Unprovoked? My bullshit meter is exploding. Must discover her angle and stay two steps ahead.
I wipe the beads of sweat from my forehead and rub my palm up and down my thigh, trying to formulate what I want to say. It’d be much easier if she hadn’t just thrown a massive curveball.
“I’ve been seeing a therapist lately. He wants us to sit down and talk through our issues. All of them. Including, you know...the forbidden ones.”
Jesus, I can’t even say it out loud. How the hell am I going to sit down and talk about it in person?
She exhales slowly, revealing a sense of unease.
My knee begins to bounce up and down restlessly. I’m terrified she’ll say no. I’m even more terrified she’ll say yes. Doc should’ve referred me to a psychiatrist, I repeatedly tell myself.
“Where and when do you want to meet up?”
I pause and look down at the phone to make sure I dialed the right number. Who is this woman and what has she done with my mother? I’m careful not to get my hopes up because she’s notorious for committing then flaking. I’m proof of that.
“Where are you living?”
“Same place I was last time you visited and stormed out.”
Bingo! There’s my guilt-tripping mom.
“I’m at Uncle Max’s place on the coast. Wanna come here? He’s on a fishing trip, so it’s just me. I can text you the address.”
I’m positive she’ll say no, which is all part of my master plan. That way I can get out of the conversation and still tell Doc I tried my best without hearing any flack.
Cunning, but not dishonest.
“Sure, I’ll drive down. A trip to the beach sounds nice. I’ll have to take time off work, though, so you need to give me a specific time frame.”
Goddammit, Mom! The one time I desperately need her to fail me and she comes through—Mother of the Fucking Year. Am I being Punk’d?
“Uhhh….”
I can hear her smile on the other end of the line. “Were you counting on me to say no or something?”
I choose not to acknowledge that que
stion.
“How about next Saturday? Does that work?”
“I’ll be there.”
Now I have a legitimate reason not to go back to Austin for Raven’s going away party. It’s better this way. If I didn’t have an excuse to stay away, I’d probably show up uninvited and end up pissing her off at her own event. Nobody wants me to be that guy.
I exhale harshly. “Alrighty, then. Next Saturday it is.”
“Don’t sound so excited.”
“Mom, let’s keep it real. Are you on drugs right now?”
She ignores the question. “I’ll see you Saturday, Eric. Text me the address. The correct one.”
I roll my eyes and fight off mental musings of my suicide. This is what I get for allowing a one-way door to stay cracked open all these years. Should’ve figured she’d barge her way back through at some point.
We say our goodbyes and hang up. I waste no time forwarding the address. At least she didn’t say the words “I love you.” How fucking awkward would that have been? I have to keep reminding myself why I’m doing all this. Otherwise, it feels like the world’s biggest trap. This is for my younger self, my present self, and my future self. All three deserve to be healed.
Less than a month left to pull my shit together and return to Raven’s side before she catches a one-way flight to Cali. I can’t let her leave knowing we’re on rocky terms. I’ve gotta make it right, especially if it’s my last chance to see her.
NINETEEN
r a v e n
My apartment has never felt more barren. Between Eric leaving and Mia moving out, nothing’s familiar. It’s all random fragments of a life I used to know. Change is necessary. Transitions are inevitable. That part I was prepared for. But what I didn’t expect was an imposter to swoop in and take over the place. She goes by the name Deafening Silence, and she’s everywhere, all the time.
It still hasn’t sunk in that I’m leaving. I keep waiting to second-guess my decision, but Pasadena is where my heart belongs. It’s the one area of my life that still makes sense. Packing has become therapeutic. There’s something about seeing actual proof of moving forward that gives me a renewed sense of hope. My thirty-day notice is up in a few weeks, but I’ll be out of here before then. Thanks to a depleted college fund, the government and I will be tag teaming the hefty bill for design school. I don’t mind, though. Makes it feel more like mine and less like someone else's.
I check the clock on the microwave, gauging how much time I have left before I need to finish getting ready. Chase, Mia, and I are all going downtown for a few drinks. I’m not keen on being the third wheel, but it certainly beats hanging out with Deafening Silence all night.
With twenty minutes to spare, I finish wrapping the last of my wine glasses in newspaper and gently place them in the box. My phone vibrates with an incoming text. I swipe my thumb across the screen and glance down.
Mom: Hi sweetie. Can you swing by the restaurant on your way downtown?
Me: Why? My last shift was a couple days ago.
Mom: I know, but we forgot to have you sign some paperwork. It’s important.
Of course it is. Unable to say no to my mom, (or any other family member for that matter) I succumb.
Me: Give me forty-five minutes.
Mom: Thank you!
I waltz into the bathroom and finish straightening my hair. Tonight I’ve chosen to attack the sleek, low pony look. Slipping into an all-black Lipsy jumpsuit and matching Brian Atwood Tribeca pumps, I’m sophistication personified. I stare at my appearance in the mirror, searching for confidence, trying to remember what it feels like to be comfortable in my own skin—to be my old self. Something inside me says that girl will never fully resurrect. How could she? With all the changing tides, she’s evolving. Aren’t we all? I keep trying to convince myself trivial things that used to matter, like having a person in my corner, just don’t carry the same weight anymore.
I put on a brave face and whip out my phone to text Mia.
Me: Ready to go whenever you are. Also, can we swing by the restaurant first? My mom needs me to tie up a couple loose ends.
Mia: Sure thing, love. On our way now.
I lock up the apartment and make my way down. When I round on Chase’s Mustang, I fling the door open, slide into the backseat, and come face to face with a beaming Mia. That’s how I know she feels sorry for me. She’s overenthusiastic, and she’s riding bitch.
“Mia, get up front where you belong.”
She scowls and crawls across my lap to grab the handle and slams the door shut, then leans back and glares. “Get over yourself. I’m sitting next to you because you’re moving soon. We only have a finite amount of time left to spend together, and I want to make the most of it.”
I twist my body and press my shoulder against the leather seat. “I have a serious love-hate relationship with your attitude, you know that?”
“Aw, shucks. Love you too.”
“Where to, ladies?” Chase interrupts, throwing an arm behind the passenger’s seat and glancing between the two of us.
“Bellotti’s,” Mia answers.
He turns around and shifts the car in reverse, then switches gears and cruises through the gate.
Mia and I spend the bulk of the drive bonding over the perks and pitfalls of living with boys. She only asks me about Eric once, and whether or not I’ve heard from him, to which I shake my head and stare out the window. I’ve reached a place where I can talk about him without feeling resentful, but tonight’s different. It’s another celebration he’s not here for. He didn’t miss a single one in eight years, and now he’s missing heaps of them.
I’ve come to realize that Eric needs to be divided into two separate categories: the ex-boyfriend, and the best friend. I don’t want the ex-boyfriend here; I want my best friend. They’re two entirely different people. My best friend sticks around through thick and thin and always has my back. The ex ditches and leaves, smashing my heart into oblivion on his way out. One is my protector; one is my destroyer. Problem is, I love them both.
Never once did I envision my future without him. How could I? There are certain people in this world that you never think you’ll have to learn to live without. Eric was one of those people. He intricately wove himself into the fabric of my life, and now he’s gone. We only had so many chances to get it right. We missed our shot. I can’t tell if that’s mercy, or cruelty.
Before I can analyze everything to death, Chase pulls up to the front of Bellotti’s and drops Mia and me off at the door. He drives off to find a parking spot. I glance down and proceed to dig through my clutch for my ID. I’m in dire need of a cosmo.
“This should only take a sec,” I tell her.
“No worries. I’ll save a seat at the bar and you can wait for Chase out here.”
“You’re a riot,” I mutter, assuming she’s joking. The sound of her footsteps fading tells me she’s not. My head snaps up. “Hey, get back here! He’s your boyfriend, not mine.”
She disregards my comment and disappears into the restaurant. Now I’m stuck on non-boyfriend babysitting duty. I glance around the parking lot, keeping an eye out for Chase. No such luck. A family of four makes their way past me, still no Chase. He’s a grown man. He can navigate his own damn self around the world.
I slip my clutch under my arm and head inside. The place is buzzing with chatty customers waiting to be seated. I inch past the horde and make a beeline for the bar. Along the way, Emilio comes waltzing out of the kitchen with a tray of food.
“Hey, Sis. What are you doing here?”
“Looking for Mom.”
“Hold on a sec.” He walks over to a nearby booth and sets the tray down on a stand. Once he’s done passing out the food, he grabs the tray and returns my way.
“Where’s Mom?” I ask.
He points over his shoulder to the party room. “In there.”
“Got it. I’ll wait at the bar until she’s done.”
“No need. Just head in the
re.”
“Uh, what about the guests?”
“They’re not your typical customers. Here,” he winds his arm around mine, “I’ll escort you.”
“That’s really not necessary,” I say, my attention split between him and finding Mia. He ignores my protest and tugs me along.
“It’s going to be weird without you,” he admits.
There’s a sadness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. I look away and swallow past the lump in my throat. Of all my siblings, Emilio’s going to be the hardest one to say goodbye to.
“It still doesn’t feel real. I’m just hoping I don’t wind up falling flat on my face and embarrassing myself once I get there.”
“You won’t. This is your time. Seize the opportunity and don’t let go because it may not come around again. And promise me you’ll keep in touch, okay? I don’t want you forgetting about us when you become the next Rachael Ray.”
“Rachael Ray isn’t a fashion designer, Emilio.”
“Then, um, one of those Full House kids?”
“Oh, my God. Give it up.”
“One of them is a major designer, though. Right?”
“One of them? Seriously, stop. You’re embarrassing yourself. And of course I’ll keep in touch. Harassing my favorite older brother is part of my job description. Someone needs to keep you in line.”
“Whatever you do, don’t tell Andre I’m your favorite. And don’t forget you said that, either. When all the famous chicks are strutting your clothes down the runway, this guy expects full backstage access. Especially if one of those models is Cara Delevingne. She’s smokin’ hot.”
I burst out laughing. “You’re delusional if you think I’ll ever get that big, but I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
“Hey, you never know. Leave the doubting to all the haters. Your job is to aim high and catapult yourself to the top, shattering any glass ceiling you may encounter along the way. Make that money and be about that business. But most of all, be happy. Wouldn’t expect anything less from my favorite sister.”
Catching Raven Page 17