Be A Doll: A Carter Manor Novel

by Stephanie Witter

  “What are you doing here?’’ I asked, my voice rough from my raw feelings scratching at my insides, making me bleed always more than I already was.

  “You’ve been avoiding me, mon garçon. How long do you think I would let you get away from me?’’ She smiled gently and sat down, putting her purse down at her feet and draping her long brown coat in her lap.

  “Mom, I’m not in the mood to talk about feelings and shit.’’ I waved at the mess on my desk. “And I’m busy. I have a lot do to.’’

  “You don’t look good, mon garçon.’’

  “Mom.’’

  She sighed and held up a hand. I leaned back in my desk chair and watched her taking me in, not missing a thing from the dark rings under my eyes, my slouched form, the creases in my suit, my tie hanging loose around my neck, the mess on my desk. Her thin eyebrows bunched. “Why are you doing this to yourself?’’

  “Stop. We went through this already.’’ My jaw locked then and my eyes narrowed on my mother, but the warning in my stare didn’t do anything to her. If anything, sadness only became more visible in her eyes.

  “I hate seeing you like this, Mathis.’’ She looked away then. “Call Lila and tell her how you feel. Give her the chance to make her own choice.’’

  “I’m serious, Mom. Butt out.’’ I gripped the arms of my chair too tightly, the joints in my fingers ached, but I didn’t relax my grip. “I’m giving her what she’s always wanted and that’s all that matters to me.’’

  “You love her. She should know that.’’

  “Stop.’’ I closed my eyes tightly then.

  “You don’t know if—‘’

  “Stop!’’ I yelled, voice rough and breaking. My breathing was loud in the quiet office, so damn loud and heavy. I put a hand over my eyes, willing the damn pathetic tears to stay at bay, hiding away from my mother’s eyes full of pain for me. “Just stop, Mom. I’m begging you to stop,’’ I said, voice shaking so bad I sounded as broken as I felt. “Is it so bad to want to give her exactly what she’s wanted to be happy?’’

  “What we want or need to be happy changes, mon garçon. Maybe what she truly needs and wants is someone to love her, all of her.’’

  I heard the chair she occupied scratch on the floor and her heels clacking as she rounded my desk to get to me. She put a shaking hand on my tense shoulder before grabbing the wrist of my hand still hiding my face. Gently, she pried it away and waited for me to open my eyes. I did after taking a deep breath, hoping that the glazed look in my eyes wasn’t too obvious, but one look in my mother’s eyes and I knew I couldn’t hide the depth of my pain.

  “She didn’t put up a fight, Mom. She immediately packed her things and left.’’

  “And I’m sure you didn’t show her how it broke you to do this.’’

  “It’s different.’’ I raked a hand through my hair and cringed when I felt the mess there. I hadn’t bothered taking care of my hair either that morning. “I didn’t think it’d hurt quite like this.’’

  “I know.’’ She caressed my beard-covered cheek and leaned down to kiss my forehead, just like she used to do it when I was a kid and ill. “Don’t make the mistake of letting her go if you think your life could be better with her in it than it would be without her. You made the decision of ending this marriage, but if you truly want to give her her freedom, open your heart to her and let her make her choice. No matter what, I’ll be there for you, Mathis. Always.’’

  “I can’t, Mom.’’ I shook my head and looked away, my eyes getting lost in the buildings outside, but without truly seeing them. “She’ll be happier without me in her life.’’

  She shook her head in disappointment and left without another word as I kept staring outside, at the city where the woman who breathed feelings inside of me wasn’t.

  ***

  LILA

  “Mrs. Grimes!’’

  I stopped in the lobby of the small inn I was staying at, frozen to my bones. Mrs. Grimes.

  I turned to look at the front desk where a gentleman probably in his late twenties or early thirties smiled openly in a professional manner that didn’t feel all that forced. Slowly, I walked to him.

  “A gentleman brought your cell phone back here.’’ He produced my phone on the counter, unscathed. “You’re lucky someone saw you dropping it just outside of the inn.’’

  I blinked at the device mocking me on the counter, my face reflecting on the screen. I didn’t make a move to pick it up. My heart hammered at the possibility of who could have brought it back. It could only mean someone who knew where I was staying because I didn’t accidentally drop my phone outside of the inn, but in a trashcan at a park nearby.

  “What did this man look like?’’

  The receptionist’s brows briefly furrowed before smoothing out again. His smile didn’t disappear. “Tall, built with thinning blonde hair and—‘’

  “Thank you,’’ I stopped him, snatching the phone from the counter and mustering up a fake smile for the man in front of me when my heart plummeted after soaring at the silly idea that it could have been Mathis. What a joke. “I’m sorry. I’m a little out of it today,’’ I said in apology and quickly left for the elevator before I could pass as more of a freak as I already was.

  My hand tightly held my phone in my pocket, sad that Mathis wasn’t the one who got my phone back and angry at myself for even wanting him to be the one to be here in Boston for me. As if he would go to this trouble after getting me out of his life at the first chance he had.

  I pushed the button to the third level and when the door closed, the question as to who could be following me bugged me so much so that it distracted me briefly of the throbbing pain ever present inside of me.

  It could only be someone who knew me, someone who followed me.

  I closed my eyes when it hit me.

  The man in charge of following me, my bodyguard from New York had followed me here and was still checking up on me. Did that mean that Mathis still got updates on me? My stomach fluttered at the thought that some of the things linking us together weren’t all severed yet.

  Not long ago I had been pissed that Mathis had hired someone to make sure I was safe, but now it warmed me so much that for the first time since I had left New York I didn’t feel cold.

  It was good to know that even if he didn’t want me in his life, he cared enough to make sure I was safe. To me, it made a difference.

  In my room, I turned on my phone and quickly unlocked it, hoping I’d find a message, a text, anything, but there was nothing but two missed calls from Sylvie and Megan. My eyes watered immediately, reminding me that my heart was very much broken, no matter the kind of silly, stupid things I thought about to make me believe that Mathis hadn’t played me from start to finish.

  MATHIS

  I stared at the empty carafe on the coffee table and the tumbler equally empty next to it. Everything danced in my line of sight, just enough to numb the worst of the pain that constantly plagued me.

  Alcohol was mandatory today as it officially marked the two-week anniversary of my ‘break up’ with Lila. I snorted at myself, sprawled on the couch with my legs parted and my hands clenched at my sides while my eyes kept on fixing the carafe and tumbler hoping it’d replenish them with bourbon again.

  I wasn’t a heavy drinker and while I could hold my liquor, I was past my limit. I had no doubt as to my incapacity to stay upright if I went to my feet right now and decided to walk in a straight line.

  The intercom buzzed loudly, piercing through my alcohol fueled fog.

  “Shit,’’ I groaned and rubbed at my eyes before hissing myself to my feet, swaying a bit before I found enough equilibrium to start walking just as the intercom buzzed once again. “I’m coming.’’

  I braced myself against the wall and pushed the intercom button. “What?’’ My voice gurgled, but I didn’t care. It was Saturday afternoon, if I wanted to be fucked up on a Saturday afternoon I could very well do it without having to hide
it for whatever stupid reason.

  “Sir, there’s a Mr. Grimes asking to come up.’’

  I blinked slowly, mouth twisting up in a sinister smirk that held no humor or sympathy. “Let him up.’’ I pushed back from the wall and unlocked the front door, leaving it ajar for my father as I tread back to the couch, going carefully as to not fall face first and add to my pain, a physical one from a drunken fall, that would be the epitome of pathetic.

  As my ass landed on the couch back where I had been sitting, I cursed myself for not having more bourbon here. I had bottles of wine in the wine cellar in the kitchen, but somehow the idea of wine didn’t appeal to me. This celebration called for hard liquor.

  The front door squeaked as the familiar sound of my father’s dress shoes on the floor reached me. I stared at the entry hall when he closed the door and turned to look for me, quickly locating my slouched form on the couch.

  From here my vision was too blurry and dancing to fully appreciate the look on my father’s face as he realized that I was drunk in the middle of the afternoon, but I saw enough of him to perceive the condemnation.

  “It looks like I can’t offer you a bourbon,’’ I mumbled, waving at the empty carafe on the coffee table as my father approached slowly, his steps seemingly hesitant, but for all I knew it could very well be my brain too slow to catch up.

  “It’s the middle of the afternoon,’’ he said, sitting in the armchair close by.

  I stared at him, squinting in the light coming through the window and finally saw the frown on his face and the way his lips pursed. Nothing new there. At least he was looking at me straight for once instead of trying to look through me as if looking at his own fucking son was too difficult or disappointing.

  “This is my apartment,’’ I replied and waved around, swaying a bit more on the couch before I decided to lean my head against the back, still turned on the side to keep my father in my line of sight. “What are you doing here?’’

  “Your mother said—‘’

  “Of course it’s Mom,’’ I cut in, my voice louder suddenly as I fought off a smile that made my insides twist and my skin crawl. “You wouldn’t visit here unless Mom put you up to it.’’

  “Your mother didn’t put me up to it,’’ he retorted, his frown deeper. “And sit straighter, damn it.’’

  My hands clenched in my lap as I glared at him, but still, I sat straighter, pushing through the slight nausea hitting me and the dizzy spell making my head throb, a sure sign that my buzz would be short lived. “Happy? No, don’t answer that. I know you could never be satisfied with anything I do.’’ I raked a hand over my beard and took in the disgruntled look on my father’s face, zeroing on the deep lines in his forehead and around his eyes.

  He looked away then, but not quickly enough that I didn’t see the pain on his face. “I’m not here to talk about me, Mathis.’’

  “Then what? Are you here to gloat now that Lila isn’t here anymore?’’ I pushed on, my voice rising with anger as I remembered the dinner during which he disrespected her and me both, or when I heard about his visit to my wife. “You can have a fucking party now. Pop the Dom Perignon, Dad.’’

  Instead of biting back, he shook his head and stared at me again. I couldn’t read his face this time around because I didn’t know what I saw there. We didn’t work like that together. I either saw pain or anger, most often distance and disdain when directed my way.

  “You love this woman, don’t you?’’

  “Her name is Lila,’’ I gritted and stood up on unsteady feet, making my way to the shelf near the TV where I kept a picture of me and Max together. I stared at it without really seeing it. “Her name is Lila and…’’

  “You’re in love with her. Your mother told me.’’

  “Of course she did,’’ I mumbled and kept my back to my father. The last time we had anything resembling a heart to heart chat was when I was thirteen before summer break and he talked to me about girls and sex because he was worried I was growing up too fast in comparison to Max. Life had a funny way of playing with memories and twisting them around.

  “She’s very worried about you and I see why,’’ he said, voice poised without the usual cold inflection I was so used to.

  “Don’t pretend you care, Dad.’’ I turned around and walked to the windows, staring outside to the view of Central Park, the kind of view I remembered Max telling me he wanted when he grew up and worked with Dad in the family company. I put my hands flat on the glass, leaning against it. “We both know the truth even if we’ve never addressed it.’’

  “What are you talking about? I came here because your mother is worried and with good reason. I’m not here to fight with you.’’

  “No?’’ I put my forehead against the glass and sighed when the cold seeped through my skin, clearing some of the fog in my head. “Because you know about my feelings for Lila, let us go further with the truth.’’ I cleared my throat and pushed my voice through the growing tightness in my throat. “I should be the one who died that day. I know the wrong son died.’’

  “What?’’

  The surprise in his voice almost made me turn around, but I wouldn’t. I kept my eyes on the green patch outside in the middle of skyscrapers. A touch of color in the middle of gray and black.

  “You heard me. Shit, it’s been obvious for years that your favorite son died that day and that I’m the fucking disappointment for being the one left behind. I also know you blame me for Max’s death because I was the one pushing him to go surfing that morning.’’

  I heard him get to his feet and walk toward me, his shoes making a distinctive sound I could always recognize even in a room full of people. He always favored his left leg since he broke his leg when I was a toddler. He stopped next to me, feeling smaller than he really was as I glanced out of the corner of my eyes to find his shoulders in the same slouch as mine was. He was looking at Central Park too.

  “Max always said he wanted to live somewhere with a view over Central Park,’’ he quietly said.

  “I know.’’

  “He always used to say that he wanted to work in business like me and work for our family company, that we would expand it and be unavoidable.’’

  “I know,’’ I whispered, eyes fixed on Central Park when I felt my father’s eyes weighing on me.

  “You never wanted any of those things.’’

  “I didn’t.’’

  My heart hammered for the first time in two decades, my father truly saw me. I wanted to hide and build up my usual façade, but that was from years spent shaping myself to be a man I would have never become if Max were still alive. Lila broke through me and awakened the man I could have been if only things had turned out differently.

  “It’s for him, isn’t it?’’ A quick nod was all I could do. My voice was lost. His pained gasp made me turn toward him. “Why didn’t I see that? Why… why…’’ he stuttered, and brought a trembling hand to his forehead before he put both hands on my shoulders, keeping me in front of him where I couldn’t escape the raw pain in his eyes and the sincerity I hadn’t seen in years from him. That man right here was the man I remembered from before. “You need to listen to me, Mathis. I never blamed you for Max. Never.’’

  “Don’t—‘’

  “Listen,’’ he ordered me, shaking me slightly, but with the alcohol through my veins it efficiently made me shut up. “I was the one who told you that you could go that morning and that I would join later. I’ve always blamed myself. Not you.’’ His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat then. “My son died without me there because I woke up later than usual and I wanted to finish my damn breakfast. It wasn’t your fault and I never thought it was.’’ He patted my beard-covered cheek roughly, his eyes fixed on my face taking me in slowly as if rediscovering me for the first time in years. “Looking at you is hard. You and Max looked exactly the same. It’s so difficult to see you and know what Max would have looked like and I know how hard it’s been on you losing your
twin.’’

  I closed my eyes then. I needed to cut myself off the intense pain at hearing exactly what I had always needed to hear from my father. It broke down and destroyed the few walls still up around me, the same walls that kept me prisoner, but also had protected me all this time. Lila had started on it, my father was finishing the job.

  “I can’t look at myself in a mirror without seeing him. Every-fucking-day,’’ I said through gritted teeth, my eyes tightly closed even when a tear escaped me to get lost in my thick beard.

  “You look like him, but you two have always been so different,’’ my father said, his hands tightening on my shoulders in what felt like comfort, a comfort that stifled me. I pulled away, opening my eyes to the world around me, a world so damn bleak I didn’t perceive any color anymore. Not since I made Lila leave.

  I blinked several times, pushing away the tears I hated and put my hands against the window again, flat on the glass. “Max was the good one.’’

  “Max was the studious twin, serious and so driven it often worried your mother and me.’’ He sighed then and resumed his place next to me, his shoulder against mine. “You were the happy kid, the jokester and so full of life you never failed to bring a smile to everybody’s face. You were also Megan’s favorite because you never said no when she asked you to play with her.’’

  “I was stupid and reckless.’’

  “You were a smart kid with a strong aura, Mathis. You’ve never been stupid nor reckless,’’ he countered with a stronger voice, a bit more forceful, but nothing close to the kind of tone he’s been using when talking to me. Gone was the distant and cold father, the one who would always criticize me and never look me in the face. Right now, I had a broken man next to me, a man who was still shouldering the deepest kind of grief someone went through. “Do you remember the first week after the accident?’’ He didn’t wait for me to answer, but it was no use. We all knew in the family that I didn’t remember it. “You were gone, Mathis. You went through shock and didn’t eat or drink unless your mother or a doctor made you. You wouldn’t talk. You were gone with Max and when you came back to us, you weren’t the same anymore. All this time I had thought that it was the accident that changed you and that your light got snatched. I thought that your sudden interest in schoolwork was because it helped you focus on something other than our loss, and then later on with work I thought it was your way of butting heads with me because I didn’t protect you and your brother. I also thought that it was my fault for pushing you away, just like I’ve been pushing everybody away.’’