When Sh*t Gets in the Way

by Ines Vieira

  “Thank God for that. We’re going to need all of it so you can press charges and get a restraining order.”

  “I don’t think a piece of paper is going to make me feel any safer, Jess,” Izzy whispers and I hate to tell her that she’s right. A piece of paper telling someone not to come within ten feet of you is all very nice, but it hardly offers true protection if the person its addressed to doesn’t care one iota.

  “I know but that’s why you’re coming with me to learn how to kick a guy in the junk,” I smile at her. Izzy’s eyes light up a bit and I see she likes the idea I’m offering.

  “So I guess mission ‘catch a stalker while nursing a bruised heart is in effect’,” Drew laughs out.

  Yep, I guess it is.

  Chapter 29

  Quaid

  It stuns me I’m still surprised it’s been weeks that I haven’t laid eyes on Jessica since the night I left her at her parents’ house. I shouldn’t be surprised at all. We don’t share the same classes. We don’t even have classes in the same buildings, yet every corner I turn, I yearn to see her. Even if only a glimpse. I find myself strolling more often than all the months I’ve been here, to the library. Hoping that I’m able to see her head in a book studying for an exam or gathered around a table with her Pro-Activist group, debating reverently about the next step to take on a new project to better the world. I’d give anything for just a glimpse. But I never see her. She has officially distanced herself from any social gatherings she feels I can attend and any other place she thinks I may go to.

  If we were different people, we might have had to confront one another sooner or later. If we ran the same social circles, this would have forced her to see me, but we have no friends in common. Hell we were never friends to begin with. We skipped that step altogether. But inevitably, even though we didn’t start that way, she was the best friend I ever had, and I miss her friendship just as much as I miss holding her in my arms.

  I can’t stand it any longer. Each day that passes just seems to get worse, not better. I should be accustomed to not having her near me by now but I refuse to accept it. I can’t. She is the best part of me and letting her go is like letting that part of me die. How can accept that? I can’t.

  The worst part is that I know all of this could have been avoided before it turned out to be the mess it is. If only I had come clean on whom Olivia was and ended her mistrust. I told Jess, I would never disrespect her. But I gave a voice to every doubt she ever had that my word was nothing but an empty promise. I want to blame Olivia once again for ruining my life, but I can’t blame her. Not this time. I could have told Jess. I could have gone against my grandmother manipulations of keeping this our little family’s dirty secret and gave into Jess. She deserved the truth from me. She deserved everything and although I wanted to give her the world, I couldn’t even find the balls to go against people that didn’t care about me and ended up hurting the one I cared most. Where were my loyalties then?

  But I was confused and heartbroken that my word wasn’t enough to quench her fears. I thought if I showed her how much I loved her it would be enough. But my love wasn’t enough was it? In the end, her doubt was stronger. Could I blame her? If the roles had been reversed and if there was a constant male presence in her life she refused to explain to me, would I have been as trustful of her? Even if she told time and time again how much she only held me in her heart, wouldn’t that small doubt end up killing my trust, my love for her? I wish I didn’t understand where she was coming from, but I did all too well and it kills me how I was the one that ruined us.

  My incapability of divulging who I was, my parentage and my whole fabricated history, was the thing that destroyed my future. Because that’s exactly what Jess was to me. My entire future. How many nights did I just look into her eyes and saw my whole life flash by me in pure bliss? The vision of me kneeling in front of her after graduation and asking her to be my wife. The dream of waiting for her as she walked towards me in white with that smile that made me feel ten feet tall? Watching her grow into her skin beside me, planning out how she was going to change the world one day at a time while holding my hand so I could follow each step she took. Being proud of the fact this amazing woman chose me out of everyone else to see her shine every day in all the accomplishments I knew she was destined for. And the dream I hold dearest is the one that breaks my heart each day I don’t feel her bright sun warm my skin. The image of me kissing her swollen belly with my child growing in her, as she plays with my hair and laughs at my corniness at being so enraptured of the life we were building together. I saw it all and lost it in a blink of an eye, because I was so used to keeping that side of me hidden from the world, and I didn’t want her to look at me as if I was a stranger to her.

  Does she think about me still? Am I in her thoughts every constant second as she is in mine? Does she dream of me and ache when she wakes up and sees I’m not lying next to her like I do every night? Because that’s all I seem to do. I ache. I ache for her and I feel as if all the oxygen I try to fill my lungs with isn’t enough to keep me alive. She was my air and without her, every breath I take burns me until all that’s left is grey ash.

  I have been going through the motions, attending class and keeping up with my workload, but I feel if I am able to say a couple of words a day, it’s a struggle. I prefer silence to the sound of my voice. I didn’t use it when I should have, so what use do I have for it now? The only times I try to be more engaging is when mom and dad call me. They’re worried about me and I can’t blame them. I don’t recognize myself. I see a man in the mirror looking back at me and I can’t for the life of me know who he is anymore? Who am I without her? I’m nothing but an incomplete mess. I could argue with myself and say I’m the same old Quaid, that nothing changed and I can move past this. I could argue that case until I was blue in the face. Yes, I could move past this, but I’m not the same Quaid.

  With Jess by my side, I was so much better. She challenged me like no other and made me laugh every day. I have always been a serious kid, probably a side effect of the screwed up childhood I had in Olivia’s care, so it’s no wonder I became a serious adult, but with Jess it was different. She made me carefree and live in the moment. She was reckless and impulsive and spoke with her heart on her sleeve and it was intoxicating being around her. She was a force of nature I never wanted to tame. So yes, I could move on from that, but why the fuck would anyone want to move on from the greatest thrill of your life? She pumped adrenaline into my veins and made me fly with her, knowing full well I would catch her anytime she thought she might fall. I would fall on my own sword before I would ever let one strand of her hair come to any harm. We were complete opposites in every way, yet we completed each other perfectly. While she was loud and full of life, I was the safe harbor she could always land on. While I was the idealist to my very core, she was the reality check I needed at times. Yet even when I was too serious or focused on a task at hand, I could always count on her soft giggle to remind me there was so much more to life. I was the stable earth while she was the wind. Violent and passionate one minute and then just as sweet and soft the next. How could I ever move on from that?

  Tonight though, I will be forced to socialize with the very woman who is the actual root of all my ailments. My father called to inform we have all been summoned to my grandparents’ penthouse. Although this is a family meeting, apparently Olivia will also be attending. My parents drove up this morning so they could spend some time with me. That is the only silver lining to this family summons. At least I’m able to concentrate on being present for my mom and dad, although I don’t know if I’ve been able to assure them as well in person how fine I am as I’ve been claiming on the phone every day they ask what’s wrong. I’m almost positive if I wasn’t worrying them so much with my constant depressive state, they might have even ditched coming to New York, summons be damned. Hell, I’m pretty sure my mom would probably be all too happy to give my grandmother the middle finger at
her presumption she could call and expect everyone to drop what they’re doing just to see what’s on her agenda now.

  We have dinner at a quaint Italian restaurant near Hell’s Kitchen that my mother used to love coming to when we lived here. We make light conversation and I feel this is for my benefit mostly. Neither one approaching the topic of my absentee girlfriend. At least in my parents’ mind, Jess is still my better half until I tell them otherwise, which I haven’t been able to do. Mostly, because I refuse to accept that she isn’t. I replay the last time we were together over and over in my mind and hold onto little words of hope.

  She just needs time.

  She’s not answering your calls because she needs to process her feelings on her own.

  She won’t see you because that will only confuse her.

  Hold out one more day and she’ll call and tell you she’s back.

  Just hold out one more day.

  Survive one more day.

  I repeat these little mantras every day. I wake up and think this will be the day she’ll come back to me. Today, she’ll call. Today, I’ll hold her.

  Today.

  But today turns into tomorrow and another tomorrow and another. The today I yearn for never arrives, yet I still hold on to hope she has taken all the time she needed and will seek me out telling me she is back for good. These thoughts are still running through my head as we finish dinner and head out to see what my grandparents thought was so urgent the whole family needed to be present for. When we enter the penthouse, everyone is already accounted for in the grand living room, save for the hosts themselves. My uncle Donovan and latest girlfriend are hushed over in the corner whispering among themselves. Probably trying to come up with the reason they too had been summoned. My cousins, Petra and her brother Eric too engrossed on their phones to care. Looking more annoyed they had to forfeit their evening plans then be curious as to what my grandparents have in store for them. The only one showing mild interest and a cool stance is, of course, Olivia, standing next to the baby grand piano. As composed as she’s trying to be, her delight at being present in a Stevens family meeting is almost palpable. As palpable as the stiffness I feel my father’s back become at the sight of her, or the disdain and rage burning in my mother’s eyes and seeing Olivia’s condescending smile. We haven’t been here a minute, and I already feel the soldiers and generals gather up their swords and guns preparing for battle between the two women.

  “Maybe we should sit,” my father says offering his hand to the lioness beside me. Mom grinds her teeth and fake smiles at him, taking dad’s cue to sit down and face anywhere but at the woman who handicapped her son from having a normal childhood. I sit next to her and nudge her shoulder reminding her that nothing Olivia has done to me in the past can erase the good Taylor has brought to my life. Understanding rises into her brow and she gives my hands, that are placed on my lap, a light squeeze.

  “I’m giving this whole circus fifteen minutes. I already got what I came for. I wanted to see my baby boy and I did, so this little reunion better be quick,” she says smiling at both my dad and me. My father’s eyes bright up at my mother’s sassiness as they always do, and nods in complete accordance with her statement. I relax a little bit also knowing I won’t have to be here much longer. Living in the penthouse with Jessica all those weekends were the most amazing of my life, but being here with my grandparents present and Olivia, made each second that passes by crawl. Like pinching needles to my skin, dragging each minute to feel like a year of breathing unpleasant stale air. It had nothing on my time with Jess. This room holds no memory of her either. Aside from the gym, the boat room and the kitchen, the rest of the house had no trace of her. Suddenly the urge to run to any one of those three divisions makes my mouth dry. Maybe if I can just visit these rooms, I’ll be able to see her clearly in my mind. Smell her strawberry perfume on one of the pillows or get a flashback of her trying to knock me down on my ass on the gym floor mats. I start to stand and excuse myself for a couple of minutes, feeling the urgency of getting those memories back in vivid color and smell, when the matriarch and her devoted sidekick enter the room, killing my notion of sweet escape.

  “Good, you’re all here,” my grandmother says as she paces carefully to a French Style oak wood single chair. She takes her seat on the fauteuil, with her husband at her side, standing stoically, sharing no clue with us with his schooled expression as to what new scheme my grandmother has concocted this time. My grandmother locks eyes with every person in the room commanding the attention she feels she so richly deserves. The only time her icy exterior seems to thaw is when her eyes lock with mine.

  “I’ll make this brief as you know it isn’t in my nature for small talk when business is at hand. It has come to my attention that some of you may have misguided, or dare I say naive illusions to the Trusts we have so generously put in place for each of my children as well as my grandchildren. This is something that I wish to clarify now and hope never to need to have such a distasteful conversation again.”

  “Since when is talking about money ever been a distasteful subject in this family?” My fifteen-year-old cousin Eric lets out still glued to his phone. My uncle Donovan slaps him across the head unceremoniously.

  “Be quiet you insolent child before you say something we all may regret later,” he barks at Eric. Petra takes his phone away and places it in her bag along with her own. The look in her eyes to her younger brother is all affection, but it is also a warning to remain silent to forgo being subjected to their father’s harsh temperament again. Eric bites his lower lip and slumps back into the sofa, crossing his arms over his chest, listening more to his sister’s eyes, then to his father’s heavy hand. My grandmother shows no emotion whatsoever and keeps still until she feels she’s regained the room’s attention.

  “As I was saying, I believe some pre-notions have been greatly exaggerated and therefore I wish to clear any misunderstandings tonight. In the past, James and I set up three independent trusts for my sons. Each received their college Trust at eighteen which all my grandchildren are also entitled to as Quaid can confirm.” I nod when I feel all eyes on me. I hate being the center of attention but in this case, being the eldest grandchild, I was the first one to have access to my college fund. A fund that would easily be enough to finish my doctorate and still have enough left over for another Masters degree if I so wished. My grandparents’ generosity with my schooling was never the issue. Caring the Stevens last name meant I was expected to be great, whatever the field I chose and fronting the bill for the best schools out there was nothing that my grandparents batted an eye at. My cousins would have the same advantage when their time came.

  “There were another two Trusts in place as well. The first Trust, each would be entitled to when they turned twenty- one and the second at thirty, unless of course you were wed before then, whichever came first.”

  I look to my father perplexed as to why he never mentioned this once to me. The college fund he had been vocal about, so I didn’t have to worry about taking summer jobs to help with tuition when all I really wanted to do was my volunteer work. I knew that maybe in the unforeseeable future there might be an inheritance, but this would be a result of both my grandparents’ demise and even though they were cold, calculating and uncaring individuals, I still misguidedly maybe, cared for them. They were my family, even though love was a foreign concept for them, I did, in fact, love them. They might not deserve my affection, and lord knows, affection from my part would probably make them feel as uncomfortable to them in receiving it as I would feel if they gave it back to me. Yes, I knew an inheritance was a possibility, but this meant their death, and to me, I would lovingly decline any of it, if they could live on this earth longer. Even if only to share icy, stern glares and gelid statements around the dinner table once a year.

  “Well, James and I over the years have given this much thought and decided that our grandchildren would receive their Trust in one go instead of the previous two hal
f amounts as their parents. Therefore only one Trust holding the full amount will stand, and the other will be eliminated.” From the corner of my eye I see Olivia’s interest peak up at this. It seems as though this whole discussion of Trust isn’t as undisclosed to her as it had been to me. None of what my grandmother has said has surprised her, only this last statement, which leaves me wondering why she’s here in the first place now.

  “Quaid, Petra and then Eric will all be entitled to their trust of 60 million dollars in one go, along with being entitled to their respective shares of the DiStefano’ enterprises. That alone will make each of their net worth in the billions bracket,” my grandfather says proudly placing a hand on my grandmother’s shoulder.

  I look over at Petra, who extemporaneously falls back onto the couch next to her brother, both looking sick to their stomachs. I can’t say I look less green with what my grandfather just announced. Growing up, I never felt I went without, but I never took anything my parents gave me for granted either. Money was never a real concern for us, even though both my father and my mother worked tiredly in making my father’s construction company thrive back home. Aside from our house, I can’t say we lived better than your average middle class working family. I mean, I felt like I belonged in the middle-class bracket, not this billionaire bullshit my grandfather is going on about. Just the thought of the words millions and billions being tossed out like water made my skin itch. If Jessica were at my side, she would probably already be thinking about how many schools we could help with that money, and how many kids could get access to good education, food, supplies. She would add up how many homeless shelters, runaway houses and foster care families that would need the type of aid that only big money could provide. Hell, Jess would start a whole foundation just to fight all the injustices she saw in the world and employ the unemployable. Offer second chances to frightened mothers and assaulted women everywhere. Suddenly thinking of how Jessica would see receiving this type of money as a gift to give back to others makes my stomach settle. Yes, it’s an obscene amount of money, but so is my girl’s thirst to rectify wrongs.