Driven to Distraction

by Olivia Dade

He had to ask. Wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t. “Is there any way you might change your mind about this? When we first met, you didn’t want a relationship, either, but once I showed you I wouldn’t be a burden—”

  Her head moved in a slow shake against his breastbone. “No. It’s not the same thing, Sam. You’re an adult. You can support and take care of me just as much as I support and take care of you. Babies and children… They’re different. You can’t expect them to bolster you or shoulder your burdens. That’s not their job. Being kids is their job.”

  He kissed the dark hair at her temple and rested his lips there, breathing in the apple scent that signified Con to him. That signified love. “What if I promised to do most of the work?”

  “Do you really think I’d sit back and let you raise our children alone? And what happens if you get sick or injured? Or, God forbid, what happens if you die before they grow up?” The circles of wetness on his shirt kept getting bigger, and she didn’t look up. Probably as embarrassed by her tears as he was by his. “But even under the best of circumstances, I think I’d resent you. I’d resent the kids, even though they’d have done nothing wrong. Just like I did my siblings.”

  “You took a chance on dating me. Can’t you take a chance on this too?” It was a stupid goddamn question. He knew it. But he could see his world crumbling around him, and he’d do anything to stop the destruction before everything turned to dust.

  She sniffled. “Like I said, it’s different. You’re an adult, and you understood the situation. I told you from the beginning I might get irritated, kick you to the curb, and break your heart. You agreed to take that risk, knowing the possible consequences. A kid can’t make that kind of decision. So I would never agree to have a child as a gamble. Or against my better judgment, simply to make my partner happy or because people expect me to.”

  He understood exactly what she was saying and why. Still, he couldn’t seem to wrap his brain around the magnitude of the disaster that had just struck.

  She raised her head to look at him for the first time in minutes, her eyes wet and swollen. “Everything’s different with a child, Sam. For better and for worse. You’ll see.”

  You’ll see.

  He knew what that meant.

  “I’m not going to stand between you and what you really want. I love you too much for that.” Her lips were damp and trembling against his. Cold. “I won’t be selfish.”

  He sat paralyzed as she pulled away from him and got to her feet. Slowly, as if she’d suddenly aged decades, becoming frail and arthritic before his eyes.

  “Maybe I’ll change my mind,” he said, every word dragged from his aching throat.

  “And maybe I’ll change mine.” After tugging on her jeans, she shoved her feet into her boots and gave him one last smile. Sweet and vulnerable. The type she reserved only for him. “But I don’t think either one of us should gamble on that, either.”

  Purse in hand, she headed for the door. And this time, he could see the blood as she bit her lip.

  She spoke quietly. “Good-bye, Sam.”

  By the time he could make his lips form his own farewell, Constance Chen was long gone.

  23

  Two weeks later, Con was back to her normal life. Back to her empty house and the relentless flood of calls from her younger siblings. Back to occasional nights out with the girls, who very carefully didn’t ask questions about what had happened with Sam. Back to solo Verizon Center trips for the Stanley Cup playoffs. Back to her usual Bookmobile schedule at work.

  Oh, Tina had protested some. Fussed about whether Con had completely recovered from the pneumonia. Suggested office work for another month or so, until they could count on late spring warmth every day.

  Con had closed Tina’s door before making her position clear. “For personal reasons, and as long as my administrative work doesn’t suffer, I want to work outside of this fucking building and inside my Bookmobile as much as humanly possible.”

  “Ms. Chen—” Tina had started to say, but then she’d clearly spotted something on Con’s face. Something a normal supervisor wouldn’t have noticed. Something Con didn’t want her to notice. “I see.”

  Con had scuffed the floor with her boot. “Yeah. It gets stuffy inside this building, you know? Crowded. Too close. Like a cave filled with woolly mammoths.”

  Tina couldn’t possibly have spied the tears Con was blinking back. No fucking way. But to Con’s eternal humiliation, Tina hadn’t replied. She’d simply offered a sad smile, pulled Con into a hug, and comforted her crying Bookmobile manager. It was a goddamn shit show.

  So Con was spending pretty much every working day on board Big Bertha. After hours—long past the time the IT department went home—she’d return to her office to take care of paperwork, maintain her plants, and deal with all other administrative matters. And in the evenings, she avoided any get-togethers where she knew Sam had been invited. She didn’t want him losing his newfound connections because of their failed attempt at a relationship.

  Given that she and Sam technically worked in the same building and had the same circle of friends, she thought she was doing a damn good job of avoiding him.

  For her own sake, yes. But also for his.

  She didn’t doubt that he loved her. If he was going to get over their affair and find some nurturing mama-to-be anytime soon, she needed to stay out of his way.

  Unfortunately, she’d discovered that avoiding Sam’s memory wasn’t as easy as avoiding the actual physical man. Her after-hours administrative work only went so quickly because of the scanner and filing system he’d set up for her. And every time she looked at the cart he’d finagled from Circ or propped her boots on the footstool he’d generously stolen from Marsha, she couldn’t help but think of him.

  Whenever Bertha lost connectivity, she remembered his instructions about doing circ functions in offline mode, which saved her countless hours. And every time she passed Clarence’s dark-timbered house on the road, she couldn’t stop herself from recalling Sam’s kindness toward the man. Or that first date at Buccaneer Times, where Sam had proven his commitment to making her life easier. Better. Happier. In any way he could.

  He’d succeeded. And she could feel the effects of his efforts even now, in almost everything she did. Which was one of the main reasons she couldn’t seem to get over the fucking man.

  Hell, he was going to assist her right this second. She needed to have a talk with her siblings, one inspired by the conclusions he’d helped her reach. Stupid to keep imagining he’d be proud of her, but that was the kind of fucked-up thinking she couldn’t prevent these days.

  She got Pru, Chas, and Christian all on the same phone call, which was tougher than it sounded. Persuading the three of them to do the same thing simultaneously was like herding Chihuahuas.

  “What’s up, sis?” Christian asked. “Is this an attempt to group-shame me about my car loan? Because I swear, I was going to take care of it.”

  “I’m not calling about your car loan.” Con reconsidered. “Well, I kind of am. But not just that. About Pru’s computer and Chas’s credit card issues too. Here’s the deal, kids. Starting two months from today, I’m cutting you off. If you can’t afford the apartments or vehicles you have, you should start looking at want ads. Either for better-paying work, cheaper apartments, or extra part-time jobs.”

  A hush fell over the line.

  “And I’m not only cutting you off money-wise. I’m also not going to arrange for employment from across the country. I’m not going to locate towing companies in California in the middle of the night. I’m not going to talk you through routine home maintenance. Basically, anything a reasonably intelligent adult—like any of you three—could handle, I’m going to let you handle. By yourself. Because it’s time.”

  Pru sounded teary. “But… We didn’t think you minded doing that stuff.”

  “Yeah,” Chas agreed. “And when we tried to handle pr
oblems ourselves, you usually rolled right over us and said you could do it better. More quickly. More cheaply. Since you were right, it was easier to call you in the first place.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” Con scrubbed a tired hand over her face, then leaned her forehead against her bedroom wall. “I love all of you. I don’t want to make your lives harder, but this decision is long overdue. In the end, we’ll all be happier for it.”

  Chas made a skeptical noise.

  “The only reason I can solve problems more quickly, cheaply, or easily than you is because I’ve had more practice. And the only way you’re going to get practice is by doing it yourselves.” Con lifted her forehead and let it thump back against the wall. “As far as how this helps me… I have to save money for retirement. I’ve also realized I spend so much time and energy on you that I don’t have enough time and energy for myself. Or anyone else, for that matter.”

  “Is this about your boyfriend?” Christian’s voice had turned suspicious. “Did he complain you weren’t spending enough time with him?”

  The mute button was a handy goddamn piece of technology. Very convenient for covering an errant sob or two.

  After a moment, she pressed the button again. “No. Sam never complained. And he’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

  “Oh, Con.” Chas sounded disappointed and sympathetic. “I’m sorry.”

  “But if helping us was too much for you…” Pru sniffled. “If you didn’t enjoy it, why did you insist on doing it for so long?”

  This was the hard part. Even harder than breaking the bad financial and practical news to her siblings. But Con needed to say it so they could deal with the issue and move on. So the secret wouldn’t drive her to sabotage their ability to live independent lives.

  “I resented all of you,” she whispered. “I spent my childhood taking care of you, and I hated it. I hated having no life of my own. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  Another hush fell over the line, and the shame nearly choked her.

  “Well, duh,” Christian finally said. “Of course you hated it.”

  Chas snorted. “Yeah. What kid wants to raise two sisters and a brother? But you looked after us when Mom and Dad couldn’t and the older kids wouldn’t. You’re an awesome big sis. Best in the world.”

  “It was obvious you loved us and would do anything for us. So whatever.” Christian made a dismissive noise. “You might have hated every moment, but you never took it out on us. Quit with the apologies already.”

  Pru cut in. “I don’t get it.”

  Chas sounded impatient. “Dimwit, can’t you see how Con would resent us?”

  “Not that part, asshole.” Pru gave an offended huff. “I don’t get how her resentment would make her keep helping us. Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Shouldn’t she have told us to fuck off years ago?”

  Con could answer that question in one word. “Guilt.”

  “Ah.” Pru thought for a moment. “Well, that makes sense then.”

  Another long silence.

  “Can we still call you for advice?” Chas asked.

  “Sure,” Con said. “I just won’t try to solve your problems if I think you can solve them yourselves. But if you need general guidance and advice, I’m here for you.”

  “Mama bird is finally pushing us out of the nest,” Christian said. “I might even find it beautiful. That is, if I didn’t need a part-time job to pay my car loan.”

  By the time they all disconnected the call, Con was pretty sure her sibling-children had come to terms with her decision. Maybe even welcomed it, in an odd way.

  She shook out her shoulders. One task down, one task to go. Adulting sucked so fucking hard.

  ***

  “I need your support,” Con told Helen later that night. “I’m sad.”

  Helen removed her horn-rimmed glasses, stared at them for a moment, and then slipped them back on her nose. “Huh. I thought I was seeing things, but it really is you. Constance Chen. Discussing her emotions with all the ease of an android given a human heart.”

  “Fuck you.” One middle finger wasn’t enough, so Con offered her best friend two of them waving in unison.

  “I probably deserve that.” The couch dipped as Helen settled next to Con, her round face screwed up in sympathy. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I wish I had the right words to make this easier for you.”

  “I wish you did too.” Con slumped. “Being sad bites.”

  “I don’t even know what happened, though,” Helen said. “You may be my best friend, but you’re not exactly a font of information when it comes to emotional concerns. If I have a problem, I run it by you. When you have a problem, you swear a lot, then invite me to join you while you drown your sorrows in beer and watch grown men grapple with each other homoerotically.”

  “That’s called football, Hel. Football. Or maybe hockey. Especially the fights.” Con dropped her head to her chest and sighed. “Anyway, I’ll keep it snappy. Sam desperately wants kids, adopted or biological. I desperately want to avoid having kids, adopted or biological. Thus my decision to sterilize myself a decade ago. Boom. Breakup time.”

  Helen winced. “You only realized the disconnect two weeks ago?”

  “I think we both assumed what we wanted to believe.”

  Not just Sam. Her too. She’d seen how scared he got at the prospect of losing Penny, the only biological family still present in his life. She’d heard his boyhood stories, in which he always seemed to be alone and lonely. She’d noticed the way he idealized her upbringing. For so many reasons, she should have known he’d long for children.

  If she’d told him the full story of her childhood, they’d have uncovered their latent conflict months ago. But she hadn’t wanted to disappoint him with the reality. Hadn’t wanted to reveal her deep resentment of her siblings and parents, for fear he might think less of her. For fear the admiration in his soft brown eyes would fade into disappointment.

  If he’d asked, she wouldn’t have lied to him. But she hadn’t shared the unpleasant truth of her own accord, either. And she’d never pressed him on how he felt about kids of his own, convinced that he understood her position on the subject. Or maybe too afraid of what he’d say if the topic were broached.

  “And neither one of you can compromise on this?” Helen asked.

  “I can’t.” Con leaned against her friend for comfort. “And I don’t think he can, either. He was really isolated growing up, and he wants a big family now. A wife and a sister aren’t going to be enough for him. I walked away so he could find a breeder.”

  “That sucks. Big time.” Helen rubbed a comforting hand over Con’s back.

  “Word.”

  “Do you want to chat about it? Or do you want me to hug you? Or both?”

  Con bit her lip, considering the issue. “Hugs for now. Maybe chatting later.”

  Turned out, Helen’s hugs were fucking magical in times of sorrow. Soft, warm, and so comforting Con had to sniff away more stupid tears.

  Helen’s voice was low and soothing. “You know, Con, I hate that you’re hurting. But this is actually kind of nice.”

  “What? The way you grabbed my boob just now?” Con snickered, her urge to cry disappearing. “Because I thought it was inappropriate. Not to mention homoerotic. Were you inspired by football?”

  Helen pulled back to glare at her. “That was an accident, and we both know it. Besides, you barely have anything to grab. If I wanted tits, I’d grope my own.”

  “You’d need about a dozen more hands to cover everything.” Helen’s boobs were the biggest goddamn ta-tas Con had ever seen. “And maybe an assistant. Wes would definitely volunteer for duty.”

  “My point,” Helen emphasized, “is that you’ve never let me support you like this before. It makes me feel closer to you.”

  After one last squeeze, Con let go of Helen and settled back onto her couch cushion. “Another legacy of Sam. Because of him, I know how nice it
feels to have someone help me. Take care of me. At least every once in a while.”

  Helen’s head tilted as she gazed at Con. “You think you could carry that revelation into a new relationship? With a guy who doesn’t want a passel of rugrats?”

  “Yeah.” Con blinked rapidly. “Sam showed me what the right man could bring to my life. When I’m over him, I’ll probably go looking for another good guy. One who wants the same sort of future I do. But I wouldn’t bet on that happening anytime soon. I wouldn’t bet on that happening next year, actually. Or next decade.”

  “Con, sweetie…” Helen’s pale brow furrowed.

  “I know it’s not practical or reasonable, and I know I sound like a goddamn idiot even saying it, but I just don’t see my getting over him. Not next week, not ever. I love him”—she sniffed hard—“so much, Hel. It fucking blows. Like a fan powered by a nuclear reactor.”

  Helen pulled her into another hug. “I don’t quite know how to picture that. But I get what you’re saying and how you feel. I’m so sorry you’re sad, sweetie.”

  “I don’t regret breaking things off.” Con spoke into Helen’s soft shoulder, drawing strength from her friend’s love. “I won’t lie to him and say I might change my mind about adopting a child when I won’t. And he deserves to have the big, noisy family he wants. Even if it means I don’t get what I want. Him. With me. Forever.”

  24

  “Doesn’t look like you’re about to pull a Juliet anymore, Wolcott,” Chris rumbled. “And Sarah texted me about a vicious, woman-eating raccoon outside her house. One who’s stalking her with beady, hungry, evil eyes. Her words, by the way.”

  Penny smiled. “I figured that.”

  “Gotta go.”

  His usual taciturn charm on display, Chris gave a slight nod to the crowd in Sam’s den and departed within seconds. Sam opened his mouth, then closed it again.

  Fortunately, Wes shared Sam’s confusion. “Pulling a Juliet?”

  “I can take this particular literary reference.” Jack slung an arm around Penny, drawing her closer to his side. “When we arrived, Sam appeared ready to impale himself on the nearest sword because of Con-related misery. But after our get-together, he seems happier. So Chris felt free to leave and participate in Sarah’s latest drama.”