Bad Will Hunting

by Heather Wardell

  “For?”

  I shrug. “That’s never been clear to me. I just always save.”

  “We’ll discuss it Thursday.” I can see that ‘therapist chasing a lead’ look coming into her face. “But for now I’ll just ask this. Did you perhaps start saving like that when you were six?”

  My mouth drops open as memories flood me. She’s right. I remember taking the few quarters Grandmother gave me after my parents left and hiding them away, and I remember why. “You mean... so I could...”

  Ellen smiles at me. “I just said perhaps. It’s up to you to decide what’s happening.”

  I’m still shocked, but I can’t help smiling and rolling my eyes. “You never give me a straight answer. You know that?”

  “I sure do.”

  We stand smiling at each other and I feel something I’d never expected: the urge to hug her. She made my life miserable on the show, or at least I thought she did at the time. Now I know I was miserable anyhow, and she did everything in her power to help me. She never gave up, and she took my call on Sunday after I screwed her over with the producers and treated her like dirt every time she reached out to me. I truly don’t know where I’d be right now if she’d decided to take the revenge she could have taken, the revenge the old me would have taken given the chance, and ignored me. She’s a great person, and I want to hug her. But I don’t think I’m supposed to.

  I look into her eyes and realize she feels the same way. She is my therapist but we’ve somehow become almost friends too. She knows me, better than anyone else does given everything I’ve told her in the last few days, and she likes me. And she didn’t abandon me. She kept trying every week even when I wouldn’t answer the phone. So not everyone leaves. That’s enough to get started with.

  I hold out my hand, and her smile widens as she shakes it. “Take care, Ashley.”

  “You too. Have a good flight.”

  She nods. “And good luck with the wedding.”

  We talked, of course, about Sam, and how I long to see him but am afraid of how it’ll go, and we came up with a plan. I’m going to stay out of his way during the wedding, and then at the end of the night I’ll ask him if we can have lunch on Sunday. I don’t want to talk to him beforehand because the idea of disrupting MC and Kent’s wedding if he reacts badly scares me. I truly want everything to go well for them, and I’m happy that I’m able to feel that way, that no part of me wants revenge on them for their oh-so-horrible crime of being in love.

  “Thanks,” I say to Ellen. “I’ll let you know how it goes with him.”

  “You’d better,” she says, smiling, then picks up her suitcase and heads into the airport.

  I get into the car to drive home, thinking as I do that I’m glad I stopped in the loading zone so I wouldn’t have to pay for parking, then spend the entire drive lost in thought about money. I have been so careful with it forever. Yes, since I was six. And back then I remember thinking that I’d keep that money Grandmother gave me and any more I ended up getting and I would someday use it to go find my parents.

  I’d forgotten all about that, probably as my disillusionment with them grew as they ignored me year after year, but on some level I must have remembered because I’ve been saving everything I can ever since. I’ve been uncomfortable about my growing savings, which has always seemed weird to me, but if my sole purpose has been to go find the parents who don’t care about me then it makes sense now that I was conflicted.

  I see the park where Sam and I had our first kiss, and pull over to go for a walk. I don’t quite want to go home yet. I think better outside.

  A little giggle escapes me. Sometimes I think better. Sometimes I come up with stuff like breaking into the Videvideoo office. It’s amazing how already that feels like a hundred years ago. I’ve changed so much in just a few days.

  But have I changed enough to let go of my parents?

  Even more, to forgive them?

  Anger smashes through me, and I take slow deep breaths as Ellen taught me and visualize its blazing red fading away to nothing. It takes a while, because whenever the word ‘forgive’ rings in my head again the anger regroups, but eventually I am calm enough to let the word into my mind without losing my mind.

  Could I forgive them?

  I don’t know. They abandoned a six-year-old with people who weren’t remotely ready to raise another child. They didn’t leave me on the street or anything, but still. They should never have just walked away.

  I’ve always wanted to tell them that, I realize now. That’s why I’ve been saving the money. I wanted to go find them and tell them they were wrong.

  My heart skips a beat as another layer of it becomes clear to me. I also wanted to find them so I could show them how well I turned out without them. My frustration and anger when I didn’t win the million bucks and when Videvideoo flamed out were about them too. I wanted to be able to say, “Look how successful I am now. Look who I became without you.”

  Though I’m dressed warmly enough for the cool February day, I shiver and wrap my arms around myself. No wonder I was so upset at all my failures.

  I hear Ellen’s calm voice, so clear it’s almost like she’s with me, saying the words she said earlier today when I told her I was a failure. “I see lots of areas where you’ve succeeded. Can you list me some?”

  As I did then, I come up with them now. I did all the physical training before the show to make sure I’d survive, and then I survived it even after the horror of losing Brett. I got past my fear and made the videos. Though I was scared to trust them at first, I became friends with MC and Liv and the others, and I opened up to Sam. And when I found Will I decided to let him go, which was probably the bravest thing I could have done about him.

  I might not be the kind of success that everyone notices, but I am not a failure. I don’t know whether my parents would be impressed by what I’ve done with my life, but I’m starting to think I am.

  I try imagining forgiving them again and the anger snaps through me again, so I try something a little easier.

  Am I going to use my money to go find them?

  I could. I have enough. I know they were last in Europe, and with some Googling I could probably find them.

  I stop walking, surprised to realize that I have in fact never done that simple search to look for them. Maybe... is it possible... that I don’t want to find them? If I didn’t even take such a tiny step...

  Yes. It is possible. I don’t want to. There’s no point.

  But this ‘no point’ doesn’t have the vengeful self-defeating tone in which I used to think those words. There’s no point, this time, because nothing they say will change anything. If they are regretful and feel terrible about leaving me, then I’ll just know we were all sad about that. If they aren’t, if they believe they did the right thing, then I’ll be the only one who was sad. But either way, I’ll have been sad.

  They left me. I grew up without them. And I’m okay.

  I start walking again, feeling forgiveness sneaking back into my mind and heart and not feeling angry about it this time. I am okay. I don’t need to find them to get their approval on my life, I don’t need to find them to know why they left, I don’t need to find them at all.

  But for my own sake I do need to...

  I take a deep breath, let it out slowly, and since there’s nobody near me I whisper, “I forgive you for leaving me.”

  I expect I’ll feel different. Free and open, like Ellen said I’d be when I accepted things. I don’t feel that, and for a moment I’m disappointed.

  But as I head toward the parking lot to go home, I realize I’m smiling.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  I keep smiling all night, and then all the next morning as I start to get my life in order. Until very recently I’ve been eating crap and not exercising and not cleaning my house, and I’ve done nothing on my admin course in ages, and it feels good to focus on those things instead of revenge.

  I also call Grandmother and inv
ite myself over there for lunch, then shock both my grandparents when I thank them for taking such good care of me when my parents left. I realized as I fell asleep last night how lucky I was to have them available, and how different things would have been without them. I didn’t have the childhood I wanted, but they gave me the best they had and I appreciate that now. Grandfather tears up as I speak, and I do too, but Grandmother just says briskly, “It’s what we had to do, so no need for thanks.” She hugs me, though, when I leave, and she’s got tears in her eyes when she releases me, and that makes me smile.

  Buying groceries on the way home and then spending an hour cleaning up doesn’t bring me down, but when I start working on another course assignment I lose my smile. I don’t care about this. I never did. I only signed up for the course because I wanted to get promoted at a job I hated.

  What I wanted was the distress center course. That one excited me and scared me, and it still does. It feels like the kind of challenge I need to move forward in my life.

  But am I ready to do the kind of work Lynn did when I called that awful night in Vegas? Can I be calm and supportive when people are mean to me like I was to her? Can I help them find their solutions? I don’t know, but I want to find out.

  I call the college and explain my interest in changing courses.

  “You’ll basically just be dropping this one and paying full price for the new one,” the woman says. “Might as well finish this one so you don’t waste the money.”

  “Actually,” I say, struggling but also smiling, “I think I’m okay, just this once, with wasting it.” What better way to prove to myself I’m moving in a new direction?

  She gets me all signed up, and I get off the phone feeling terrified and delighted. I like it. I won’t get access to the course until Monday, though, so I decide to go for a run.

  As I drive to my favorite path, a guy cuts me off when his lane ends. Anger flashes through me but I take a deep breath and do as Ellen taught me, telling myself, “He did that, and it annoys me, and I’m going to let it go.” It does work, but I wish I wouldn’t get angry in the first place.

  Out on my favorite running path for the first time since I found Will, I stretch my stiff legs and pick up the pace. It’s hard, but I do it anyhow, realizing as I do that I’d had this as an example all the way along. When I first started running I was terrible, and I’ve come so far. I didn’t give up. Yes, Brett pushed me, but I also pushed myself. I can keep doing that, keep pushing myself in the direction I want to go, and over time I’ll get better and better at handling my anger. Sure, I’m not perfect, but I’m already doing so much better than I was. I’m not Angry Ashley any more.

  I smile at how even the name doesn’t infuriate me like it used to, then blink when I spot a runner I think I know.

  No, surely not.

  But yes.

  She approaches, moving slowly and awkwardly but steadily, and I realize it is Becky. Becky, who hadn’t been able to climb Shannon’s basement stairs without demanding a break and who’d refused to move in with a boyfriend because his building didn’t have an elevator, is running.

  She sees me, and her cheeks turn even redder than the exertion has already turned them. She swerves, as if about to turn around and flee, then straightens herself out and keeps running toward me.

  When she nears me, I say quickly, before she can wonder about my intentions and flee for real, “I’m sorry. Can I run with you?”

  She nods, and I make a quick one-eighty turn and join her heading in the same direction. I have to slow down to stay with her, but I’m so happy she hasn’t run away from me that I don’t mind at all.

  We go on together in silence for about half a minute, then she pants, “Can we walk?”

  “Of course.”

  She takes several deep breaths, then says, “So. Hi.”

  I smile. “Hi. Nice to see you.”

  “See me out here or just see me?”

  “Both, I guess,” I say, not sure whether her harsh tone is due to her difficult breathing or her still being angry with me. “But I meant the second one. I’ve missed you.”

  She glances at me sideways. “Really?”

  I nod. “You were right, in what you said. I was messed up. I needed to hear it.”

  “But I didn’t need to say it like that.” After another few calming breaths, she goes on with, “It’s just... it’s been hard for me too, you know. Losing Brett. I...”

  She sighs, while I wonder where she’s going, then says, “I loved him.”

  “I... wow. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”

  “Nobody did. Including him. I knew I’d never have a chance with a guy like that at my weight, and of course I didn’t know whether I had a chance at all even if I did lose weight.” Another sigh. “I guess I was afraid to find out. If I lost it and he didn’t care... So I didn’t try. I just stayed fat. And now he’s gone and I’ll never know what would have happened.” She turns her head toward me. “Do you... did he ever say anything about...”

  “I know he thought you were nice, and funny,” I say, glad he did say that so I can pass it along. “He never said anything about having... feelings for you, but then that wasn’t really his style.”

  She nods. “No, it wasn’t.” She grimaces. “Anyhow, after he died, it all seemed even more pointless. If I didn’t lose weight for him, why bother doing it when he was gone?”

  I take a breath to give a reason, but she gives it herself. “But a few weeks before I yelled at you and Shannon, I realized that I could do it for me. Just to feel better, to be able to walk around without being exhausted. So I started. Exercise, eating better, that sort of thing. Little things, but they were starting to add up. And I was going to tell you and Shannon how I was changing that day, that’s why I so wanted you to come over, and then I found out what you did to her coworker and I just lost it. I’d been trying so hard to get out of my rut and you guys were so deep in yours and...” She shrugs. “But I shouldn’t have said it like that. Screamed at you. I was a bitch.”

  I shake my head. “You weren’t. No more than we deserved, anyhow. That was seriously screwed up.” The prison waiting room flashes through my mind. “I’ve done a lot of stupid stuff lately in the name of revenge,” I admit, “even worse than that, but I’m not doing it any more, Becky. I’m really not. I’m doing what works for me.”

  She smiles. “Me too. Oh, and it’s Rebecca now. Okay?”

  I turn to her, surprised. “Really? Why?”

  She looks down at her feet in their clearly new running shoes. “Because Becky eats junk and is lazy, and Rebecca eats salads and runs and takes care of herself.”

  I smile, and have to blink back tears. “Well, then, hello, Rebecca. Nice to meet you.”

  She smiles back. “It had better be. You don’t know the struggles I’ve been through. Haven’t had a lava cake in a month.”

  I grin at her. “Good job. How’s it going?”

  “I miss them like they’re my long-lost children,” she says, laughing. “But it’ll be okay. And I’ve lost twelve pounds.”

  “Nice!”

  “Yup.” She glances at her watch. “Can we run again? I can only go for like a minute at a time. But it was thirty seconds, so--”

  “So you’ve doubled it, which is awesome,” I say, “and yeah, let’s run.”

  We do, and when we’re again walking she says, “Weren’t you wanting to go longer? I shouldn’t hold you back.”

  I smile at her. “Rebecca, I’m happy to be right here.”

  She grin. “Good, Ashley. Glad to hear it. So, what’s the stupid stuff you’ve done lately?”

  I give a startled laugh. “Oh, you’re going to wish you hadn’t asked that.”

  We plug along, running when she can and walking when we have to, for nearly an hour, and by the end I’ve told her everything about my fight with Sam and being arrested and finding Will and forgiving my parents, finishing up with, “But I do still get angry. I guess I want it all to be per
fect right away, but it doesn’t work like that, you know?”

  “I do indeed,” she says. “I still want to be a size twelve right now, even though at the moment one of my legs is probably a twelve.”

  “Eleven and a half at the most,” I say, smiling at her, “after today.”

  She laughs. “I’ll take it.” Sobering, she says, “It’s hard, seeing how far away I am from who I want to be, and it sounds like it’s hard for you too. I ran into Shannon and...” She gives a shudder I’m not sure is fake. “Let’s just say she doesn’t agree with you that I was right in what I said. But you and I... we’re on the same page. And I guess if we keep making tiny changes we’ll get there. Right?”

  I remember how I managed to shut down my angry reaction to being cut off on my way to run. A tiny change, but a good one. “Right, Rebecca,” I say, smiling at her. “You’re so right.”

  *****

  After finishing our run, we part to shower at our homes then meet again to have lunch and wander through the mall chatting and pointing out things we like in various store displays. Rebecca’s carrying a bag containing new running clothes, which I helped her choose, but I haven’t found anything I want enough to buy. I’m willing to spend a little of my savings, since I don’t need them in the same way any more, but I can’t waste them since I’m presently unemployed. I want to be angry at Billy for firing me but I can’t manage it. I deserved it. I’ll find another job, and I will handle it right this time.

  Nothing in the mall grabs me until we reach the shoe store. Then I freeze in my tracks.

  “What-- ooh, pretty.” Rebecca nudges me. “They’re just what you like. Go in and try them on.”

  I shake my head, but somehow I’m already moving forward into the store. I hear her chuckle behind me but I keep going and pick up the silver shoe with shaking fingers. Four thin criss-cross straps over the toes and two straight ones around the ankle above the three-inch heel, and stunning. The ones my mother wore when she left were higher and shinier, but I love sandals and sleek leather and these shoes feel like me.