And I settle in to torture myself.
The first article is entitled "Esteemed Judge Rules In Landmark Trade Dispute". I don't bother reading the details because I've read it before and have no desire to read it again. Trade disputes just aren't my thing.
The next result reads "Charity Auction Yields Highest Result With Judge's Donation". It's an older article but I click on the link and stare at the picture before me. It's of a tall, distinguished man who I know to be currently seventy-one years of age. His hair is dark with silver at the temples, but that is about the only thing that belies his true age. He is fit and looks to be in excellent shape. His arm is around the waist of a petite woman, also with dark hair. I know her to be forty-five.
Hello, Mom and Dad.
The article goes on to extol the virtues of The Honorable John Cleeden, District Court Judge, and how his donation of $50,000 put the Kid Strong Foundation over their million-dollar goal for the year.
My dad is looking serious in the picture, and I believe it's because he truly doesn't know how to smile. My mom, however, is showing her pearly whites, eager to be in front of the camera, I'm sure.
I search their faces, trying to see if there is anything lurking there that would indicate how they feel about me. They don't look like two people that have a missing daughter. While my dad doesn't look overly thrilled to have his picture taken, they certainly don't look forlorn or look to be in despair.
It's as I thought. They don't think of me at all, and even though I torture myself with this game every now and then, it never diminishes the hurt I feel.
Going back to the Google search field, I type in Anne Marie Cleeden. It returns 178,000,000 hits. I narrow it down... Anne Marie Cleeden, Texas. Three hundred and forty-eight results appear. I scan the first page, searching for the words I long to read.
Parents Search For Missing Daughter
Hope Still Alive For Texas Couple Searching For Daughter
Esteemed Judge Hopeful Daughter Is Alive.
Page after page I search but it yields me nothing. My parents aren't looking for me. They could care less whether I'm alive or dead.
It's what I should expect.
When I left home at the tender age of eighteen, withering under my parents' lack of interest in me, my dad told me. He warned me well.
He said if I left, I would never be welcomed back. He said I'd be as good as dead to them, and apparently, I was.
"Okay... now reach in and start pulling out the guts."
Rowan looks at me with only a small level of disgust on her face. "It smells horrible."
"Stop being a baby and start gutting. Pretend those are Juice's innards," I tell her, throwing a grin over my clever idea.
She looks beautiful tonight with her hair pulled up in a ponytail and her face scrubbed of all makeup. She's wearing an old Steely Dan t-shirt and faded jeans with holes in the knees. Casual and sexy at the same time.
Rowan grins back at me and dives in with both hands. Pulling out a huge glop of pumpkin guts, she throws it on the newspaper covering the table and says, "Take that you, bastard!"
I laugh out loud. "You tell him!"
She reaches back in and pulls out another handful. It hits the table hard and splatters on me a bit. "That's for kidnapping me."
Rowan pulls a third handful out. "That's for chaining me to the bed," she yells with a silly smile on her face.
Splat! The guts hit the table again and a few pumpkin seeds fall to the floor. Capone walks over and sniffs them with interest.
"Rock on, girl," I encourage her.
She plunges back in, pulling out a huge pile and slams it on the newspaper. "And that's for having your thugs attack my bestie, Flynn."
I chuckle over her antics, happy to see that she can find something to laugh about. "That was probably the best therapy you could ever do to move past Juice."
We both share a secret smile over that, continuing to work on our pumpkins. Then our chuckles die down and we work in silence for a while.
Rowan had brought these stupid pumpkins home and said she wanted to carve them for Halloween, which is less than a week away. I didn't particularly care to do it, because I think it's a useless holiday, but her enthusiasm was infectious and here we now stand, shoulder to shoulder, mutilating these poor cucurbits.
Stepping back to survey our now empty pumpkin shells, I ask, "What do we do with all the innards?"
"Well, I read online that we can roast them."
We stare at the huge pile of pulp and seeds on the table, then look at each other. At the same time, we both shake our head, and say, "Nah."
"I'm too lazy to do it," Rowan says.
"Me too."
I gather all the corners of the newspapers, rounding the entire pumpkiny mess up, and toss it in the garbage. Rowan lays fresh newspaper under our shells and we both give our hands a scrubbing in the sink.
"So... now what?"
She hands me back my knife, holding the blade and presenting me with the handle. "Now we carve."
I'm not much of an artist and I don't have the patience to skillfully chip away at the pumpkin, so I opt for the classic triangle eyes and nose. Glancing over at Rowan, I see she's trying something a bit more exotic. Her pumpkin's eyes have a cat-like slant to them with delicately arched eyebrows.
I'm impressed.
"Nix told me what your tattoos mean."
The statement comes out of left field and for a second, I have no clue what she's talking about. Then I understand.
"Always faithful," I confirm.
"He told me you did it to honor him."
I nod, jabbing my pumpkin in the left eye. "In hindsight, it's kind of silly. I mean, how do you ever really honor someone like Nix for what he did, right?"
"Oh, I don't think it's silly at all. I think having those words inked on you is beautiful. I think the words also fit you perfectly."
Surprised, my eyes fly upward to meet hers. They are gray pools of warm mercury, swirling with tenderness and affection, and the look hits me hard. I've been spending weeks with Rowan, vacillating between wanting to fuck her and wanting to cultivate this friendship that she puts such stock in.
But this look she's giving me now? It makes me want it all... badly. It makes me ache with desire to just hold her, not in a friendly fashion, but not in a sexual fashion. I want to hold her intimately, and have her pour out all of her pain to me. I want to take care of her, covet her, and make everything in her life better. Not because I think she's broken, but because she makes me a better person and I want to honor that.
"So what else did you and Nix talk about?" I ask, averting my eyes so hopefully this overwhelming need to sink into her goes away.
She's silent for a moment but then she says, "He said you were in love with me?"
My eyes fly up to hers again, and there is the sadness and the fear I saw before. "And what did you think about that?"
"I told him you were just in lust with me," she says with a bitter smile on her face.
"Hmmm," I muse. "Is there a difference?"
Rowan shrugs her shoulders. "Nix doesn't seem to think so. He says it's a man-thing."
I watch as Rowan continues to push her knife into the pumpkin, twisting it slightly to chip small pieces out. She looks strong and vulnerable all at the same time and I have no control over what I do next.
Reaching a hand out, I smooth it along her face and cup her behind her head. She's surprised by the touch, and instinctively turns to look at me, allowing me to grip her neck. "I want to kiss you, Rowan."
I pull her closer and she doesn't fight me... at first.
But as soon as my mouth is just inches from hers, her hands sneak up to push against my chest. "Stop, Flynn."
My chest constricts painfully over her denial but I don't release her. She doesn't push me farther away either.
I look at her... deeply... intently. "Rowan... why? There's a connection here. You feel it, right?"
She quickly nods her
head to assure me. "Yes... I feel it like the sun... it's warm and encompassing. But I'm too afraid. I just can't."
I release her suddenly, needing the physical distance. Taking a few steps back, I lean against the counter, placing my hands on the edge by my hips. "Then explain it to me... again. Let's talk about it. Let's see if we can figure something out."
I think she's going to balk for just a second, because Rowan isn't exactly known for her openness. However, she pulls the kitchen chair out from the table and sits down with a sigh, laying her carving knife down in front of her.
"My dad is a judge--very well known, highly respected. My mom is a socialite, also well known, probably not as respected since she was a trophy wife for him. He's twenty-six years her senior."
I don't say anything but walk up and pull the other chair out, sitting down across from her. She continues.
"My dad was, I think, like around forty-eight when they had me, and frankly, I don't think he was interested in having kids. He was well on his way to a successful career on the bench and his career was everything. But my mom was young and wanted them, so he gave in."
"So you probably grew up in a pretty posh lifestyle, right?"
"Yup, although judges don't make as much as you think they do. My mom is the one that had family money. Her family are ranchers... cattle mostly, but they are very successful at it. At any rate, growing up was okay. My dad paid no attention to me, and while my mom did at first, over the years even that faded away. She was never able to get pregnant again, and she filled her time by playing tennis and having lunch with her lady friends at the country club."
Rowan pauses and gives me a sly grin. "Do you know what happens to a teen girl who gets no attention from her parents?"
"You rebel," I answer, because that's an obvious answer.
"That's right. And boy, did I rebel. I was drinking and doing drugs by the time I was fifteen. I lost my virginity at that same age. I came home shit-faced that night, and bragged about it to my parents. Told them how Sam Cantor popped my cherry in the back seat of his daddy's Lexus. I used that exact wording."
"What did they do?" I ask, slightly horrified. I couldn't ever imagine doing something like that and bragging about it to my parents. But then again, my parents doted on Renner and me. We never lacked for their attention.
"My dad just looked at me... but it was like he was looking right through me, you know? And he said, 'I'm sorely disappointed, young lady'. Then he turned to my mom and said, 'You need to handle this outburst, Susan. I can't have this shit marring my public image'. He walked away and never mentioned the incident to me again."
"What did your mom do?"
Rowan gives out a little laugh, filled with bitter humor. "She at least took a little time with me. She asked me to please behave so I didn't disappoint my father, and also wanted to make sure I was practicing safe sex."
"That was it? You didn't get in any trouble?" I'm astounded her parents would ignore that. If it were my daughter, she would have been grounded until she was twenty-five at least.
"That was it."
"I take it that didn't satisfy your need to have your parents pay attention to you?" My words come out hard, because I'm angry as shit at them for driving their daughter to do those things, and not having enough interest to make her take responsibility.
"No. It didn't satisfy it. I became even worse, trying to get them to notice me. I started dressing Goth.. died my hair black, wore black lipstick, got an eyebrow ring. Nothing. They didn't say a word, although my dad wouldn't take me with them to any functions where cameras were involved. So I became even more removed from them. Then I started really acting out. I would come to the dining table drunk or high. I'd say outrageous things to try to provoke a reaction."
"Like what?" I'm genuinely curious how far she would go--how bad she was hurting for their love.
Rowan actually gives a girlish giggle and I'm glad that her past trauma hasn't caused her complete bitterness and hate. "Once, while we were eating breakfast, I was pissed because my dad just sat there with the newspaper in front of his face. So I announced to my mom that I was thinking about getting my clit pierced."
"Holy fuck. You did not?"
"I did too," she says with a huge grin.
"Holy fuck," I say again in amazement. "What did your dad do?"
He didn't even drop the newspaper. He just said, 'Susan, please get your daughter under control.' He didn't even sound mad. Just annoyed."
"His choice of words is interesting... 'your daughter'."
Rowan nods. "That didn't slip past me. In fact, I actually wondered if maybe my mom had gotten pregnant by someone else, but that's not something I ever figured out."
"So, what caused you to leave? You said you left about five years ago, right?"
"I finally got my parents' attention." Her words come out as a mere whisper and she lowers her gaze to the floor. The hair stands up on the back of my neck.
I can't help myself. I lean forward and reach over to grab one of her hands. I hold it gently in between mine, noticing that her skin feels like ice. While my palm tries to warm the outside of her hand, my thumb slowly strokes over the inside, trying to offer her a measure of security.
She looks up at me, and there are no tears in her eyes. Just pain. Pure, unfiltered pain and I feel like I want to vomit.
"You can tell me anything, Rowan. Anything."
She nods. "A few weeks after I graduated high school, I was out with friends. We were drunk, high... We were out of our minds. And the funny thing was, I really don't think that night I was even thinking about trying to get my parents' attention. I just was having fun. At any rate, we decided to break into a house in my neighborhood. I knew the people were out of town because they were friends with my parents. We trashed the house good... I'm talking spray painted the walls, cut up the mattresses, gouged up all the furniture..."
She trails off and there is a smile on her face as she's lost in the memory. It's not a smile that says she's happy in the memory. It's actually a shameful smile, one she's forcing herself to wear.
"And you got caught?" I guessed.
"Oh yeah," she says. "We got caught big time. Neighbors heard the racket and called the cops. We all got arrested. That finally got my dad's attention. I mean... a judge's kid getting caught doing that shit?"
"What did he do?"
"After he bailed me out? Well, he took me home and sat me down in his study. And for the first time I can ever remember, he lectured me. He talked for probably an hour on what a rotten child I was. How I was an embarrassment--an abomination. That he regretted the day my mom got pregnant with me, because I had been nothing but a thorn in his side. He told me that this behavior was stopping now, or he would disown me... cut me off without a penny. He was finally putting his foot down with me. And at first, I was just happy. Happy that he was paying attention. But then I really started listening to his words, and I started getting angry."
"Because they weren't the words you needed," I observe. She needed her parents to tell her they loved her and that they were interested in her.
"No... they weren't the words I needed. I was so furious. I told him that I didn't need his money and I didn't need him, or my mom for that matter. I walked out of his study, went to my room, and packed a bag. I had some money saved up that basically bought me a bus ticket to New York. I walked out and didn't look back."
"Did he try to stop you? Did your mom?"
Rowan shakes her head. "No. He held the front door open for me. My mom stood there behind him, worrying at the pearls around her throat. I think she wanted to say something, but she never did. Just as I walked out the door, he told me I'd never make it on my own and that I wouldn't be welcome back. I heard the snick of the lock after he closed the door behind me." She pauses a second and a ghostly smile appears. "Funny... how loud the sound of the lock turning was... I can still hear it in my head so clearly."
I just stare at Rowan, completely heartsick for her. I
want to pull her onto my lap and hug the sadness out of her. But she won't accept it... I can tell. Instead, I pull her hand to my mouth and lay a short kiss on her palm before I release it.
"But look at you now," I tell her. "Look how you survived... look how strong you are."
She stares at me, almost blankly. "You think?"
"I don't think... I know. You're amazing, Rowan. You proved your dad wrong and you have turned into a hell of a woman. And you did it despite what they did to you."
Rowan shakes her head, her beautiful hair glinting as it swings back and forth. "No, Flynn. Don't you see? I'm not worthy of love. History has proven it. It's why I can only do a friendship with you. Anything more is going to turn to shit... I just know it."
"That's bullshit, Rowan. You're smarter than that, and you're stronger than that. I can't believe you're afraid of the risk."
She tilts her head to the side and looks at me with curiosity. "Why do you have such faith in me?"
"Because I know a little something about heartache and how events that happen to us can shape and define us. I know what it's like to be a little warped by the past, but I also know what it takes to try to overcome it."
"Tell me," she whispers, and I have no choice but to bare my soul to her, the way she just did to me.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Then I tell her about Marney. I don't leave out any detail, including the fact that Marney's death led me to my career as a firefighter. I'm as honest as I can be, and I even tell her that my hero complex can get in the way some time, that is drives me to fix broken things. I admit to her that my hero complex kicked into overdrive and that is why I sought to help her out originally.
When I finish, she's looking at me with a look of profound sadness. "Don't you see, Flynn? You just proved my point. You think I'm broken... that's the only reason you want to be close to me. You want to fix me, and I'm here to tell you... I can't be fixed."
"No," I deny. "Maybe at first, but not now. You're the most capable woman I know. There's not a thing about you I'd fix... except maybe your fear of taking risks. I'm hoping we can work on that though... together."
Rowan stands from the table and scoots the chair back in. "I'm sorry, Flynn. I can't do it. I know the pain of rejection and I know what it is like to want someone to love you desperately. So desperately, you slice yourself up in the process of trying to achieve that love. I don't have it in me to be hurt like that again, and if there's one thing I know... it's that you, Flynn... you have the power to destroy me if I had your love and then lost it. I'm just not brave enough to want it the way you do."
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