Hold On To Me

by Taylor Holloway

  “I wish you could stay,” I told him, reaching out a hand to touch his back. “I like sleeping next to you.”

  He lay back next to me and kissed me. “I don’t want to go,” he said eventually. His voice was soft. His hair was mussed, sticking out at strange angles and making him look both younger and more carefree. “I’d stay with you if I could.”

  I glanced over at the new alarm clock sitting on the bedside table I’d gotten for free off of Craigslist. It was already two a.m. It was definitely time for Ryan to go if he wanted to get enough sleep to rise early tomorrow.

  “Do you have an a.m. meeting tomorrow?” I asked.

  Ryan nodded. “I’ve got a few morning meetings for that new, big client I’m trying to land.”

  “The one that will take Jason Kane’s place?” I was sleepy, but I was still—mostly—paying attention.

  “Hopefully,” Ryan replied, pulling out of my arms again and hunting for his clothes on the darkened floor. “It’s still early. We’ll see if it works out.”

  “Good luck,” I told him, yawning.

  “Thanks,” he replied, dressed now and standing next to the bed. “I’m gonna need it.” He tucked me into the bed, kissed my forehead, and promised to text me in the morning. Then he was gone, and I was suddenly wide awake.

  A thought had occurred to me just after Ryan softly closed the door. What would happen once Ryan landed his next big client? It was a thought that I really should have had before.

  Ryan had told me how much of a lull his law practice has suffered since Jason Kane’s retirement. But even so, he seemed incredibly busy. Would he even have time for me once that happened?

  I knew that plenty of busy couples made things work, but it seemed like Ryan and I were both on the cusp of some pretty mammoth life changes. If things went well for me with my new and improved YouTube page and new gigs, I’d be really busy, too. A sudden worry that Ryan and I wouldn’t be able to weather a new relationship at the same time we were both trying to build—and in his case, rebuild—our careers.

  Once I opened the Pandora’s box of relationship insecurity, there was no closing it again. A whole host of new worries lined up for my attention.

  The truth was that I didn’t know a whole lot about functional relationships. The best examples I had were in movies and on TV. My parents certainly didn’t qualify.

  My parents’ relationship was short. They were married and divorced within a year. Just long enough to really, really figure out that they hated one another. Also, just long enough to make me.

  My mom had never attempted to date other guys after breaking up with my dad, or if she did, she kept it from me extremely well. I suspected that she didn’t have any interest in repeating her miserable experience with my dad. She never said as much, but I got the feeling that she preferred to be alone.

  My dad was a different story. He seemed to have a new girlfriend every time I visited. He even got married again, twice, during my childhood.

  His relationships weren’t very stable or successful. The women he dated—inevitably much younger and better looking than he was—never stayed for long. Maybe it was because he made it very clear that he wanted no more children. Maybe it was his generally difficult personality. Whatever it was, they would leave him, and my dad would be unhappy and then find someone new within a few weeks. It was an unending cycle that continued to this day.

  My first step-mother, Irina, had told me once when I was eight that she liked the idea of my father a lot better than she liked him. I hadn’t realized at the time what that meant. By the time my second step-mother, Maya, told me that she thought my dad would be different once they were married (I was twelve), I understood better.

  The women that my father dated and married thought that they could fix him. I’m not sure if my mom ever thought that—lord only knows what went through her mind at any given moment—but at least as far as Irina and Maya were concerned, they each thought that they would be the one to change him. They were very, very wrong.

  At least I didn’t want to change Ryan, I thought to myself as I drifted in and out of drowsy contemplation. I liked him exactly the way he was. I hoped he didn’t want to change me, either.

  I knew that I was my father’s daughter. I wasn’t as cutthroat as he was, but I was stubborn. Really stubborn. Once I got something in my head, I rarely let it go. I pursued my goals with dogged determination. And I liked to win. Except for birthday party games like bowling, bumper cars, and laser tag, there were no games that I played just to play. I played to win.

  Then there was the fact that I’d acquired quite a lot of my dad’s haughty negotiation and scheming skills. While useful, being so single-mindedly competitive could be a real drawback sometimes, especially when it rubbed people I cared about the wrong way. Like that time, I made Trina cry when we played monopoly. All of those qualities, I got from him.

  Although I tried to reign those questionable qualities in, I knew there was probably no chance of eliminating them from my personality. Plus, they were truly useful and beneficial in certain situations. If I wasn’t like my dad, I’d probably still be homeless right at this moment.

  I hoped that Ryan really liked me for me, despite my somewhat difficult personality flaws. I knew I wasn’t perfect, but I was falling in love with him. Piece by piece, Ryan was claiming my heart without even trying. Soon he’d have it all. I just hoped that he wouldn’t mind when he realized it.

  41

  Ryan

  “The show is tomorrow night,” I told Rebecca over the phone Thursday morning. She was a record executive at midsize label I thought could be a good fit for Rosie. I’d been trying to get ahold of her for a week, so I was thrilled she’d finally called.

  “I don’t think I can make it,” she replied. She was the third and final executive I’d called that morning. The others had been lukewarm.

  Rosie didn’t know it, but the big-name client that I’d mentioned to her was none other than Rosie Ross herself. I was now more determined than ever to get her the launch to her career that she deserved.

  Ethically, I had a serious conflict of interest when it came to Rosie. I needed to find her another agent as soon as possible. I couldn’t and wouldn’t be willing to ever take ten percent of her earnings in return for my services. I also couldn’t and wouldn’t, ever be able to be objective when it came to Rosie, herself. Both of those qualities were absolutely required in an agent.

  As far as I could tell, Rosie was the most talented individual I’d ever met. It was not an easy crown to take. I’d met a lot of famous and talented people over the years, not the least of which was Jen.

  But Jen had a personality that lent itself to partying hard and letting the business end of her career work itself out. Rosie wasn’t like that at all. Rosie had a natural business acumen that was almost as valuable as her musical talent. She was focused, driven, and incredibly talented. It was a one-in-a-million combination.

  “I will go take a look at Rosie’s YouTube channel,” Rebecca was saying. “If she’s really that good, I’ll either fly down myself or have someone attend the show and report back.”

  I resisted the urge to cheer. “Thanks Rebecca,” I said instead. “I don’t think you’ll regret it.”

  She laughed. “You’ve never steered me wrong before,” she replied after a moment. “But you know how it is. There’s a lot more talent out there than we need.”

  Rebecca had a very hard job. She had to choose from between literally thousands of hungry, talented young artists, and because of that, she had to be selective. It was like trying to find the one flawless diamond amongst a pile of nearly flawless ones. I didn’t envy her.

  “That might be true,” I told her, “but you won’t find anyone else like Rosie.”

  Rebecca made a non-committal noise. “I promise to take a look this afternoon after my meetings.”

  “That’s all I can ask.”

  “In return,” Rebecca ventured, “I want you to give so
me thought about my pitch from a few months ago.”

  I blinked. “I have thought about it, Rebecca. I would be a terrible record company employee. I’m a lawyer.”

  “That’s simply not true,” she told me. I could almost see her shaking her mop of grey curls and squinting at me from behind the ridiculous lavender tinted glasses she liked to wear. “Well I mean you being a lawyer is true, but not the rest. If what I’m planning is going to take off, I need someone that can handle the brands and the trademarks, coordinate the production, and oversight the copywrites. That’s all traditional legal work. You just don’t want to stop being an agent. You like the struggle—the fight for your clients.”

  I smirked at the phone. She was right. I did enjoy it. “None of that even matters though, Rebecca. I’m never moving to California.”

  Austin was my home. I might have been born in Dallas, but I saw the light. There was no way I’d leave. My entire life was here now. Plus, with my parents getting older, moving across the country just wasn’t an option. It’s not like I could rely on flighty Ian to be there when they needed him.

  “Well, if I come out to Austin on Friday,” Rebecca told me, “let’s talk about it. Ok?”

  I seized on the opportunity. “if you come out on Austin on Friday,” I replied, “I’ll give it very serious consideration.”

  In truth, since I was about to be fired, I needed to figure something out. Although I doubted joining the label that Rebecca thought she wanted to form would be a good fit, it wouldn’t hurt to spend some time networking for myself, either. I was going to need a source of reliable income once Ross figured out what I’d been spending my time on. He was going to be beyond furious. Fired didn’t even begin to describe the situation I’d be in. It might be closer to ‘danger for my life’.

  “Hmm,” she said again, although the noncommittal noise sounded quite a bit more positive. She was oblivious to my inner machinations. “Well, like I said, I’ll get back to you.”

  I’d known Rebecca for eight years. I’d heard many varieties of her non-committal noises. This one was as good as confirmation that she’d be at Rosie’s show.

  “Thanks again,” I told her, praying that I’d seemed interested enough in jumping ship and joining her new venture to lure her to Rosie’s show. “Call me when you hit the ground.”

  “Hey—I didn’t promise that!” Rebecca insisted.

  “Ok, bye!” I hung up smiling.

  42

  Rosie

  Rosie Ross [11:02 a.m.]: Hey mom, when is the funeral for Auntie Soon Yi? I want to send flowers.

  Cecelia Young [11:10 a.m.]: It’s already done. She died Friday, so she was buried on the following Monday. Don’t send flowers. They have enough white chrysanthemums.

  I’d forgotten that part. In traditional Korean culture, the funerals are very speedy. For a person to be buried three days after death was not unusual, in fact, it was perfect timing.

  Koreans do not embalm the dead like Americans, so things couldn’t drag out for months like they did when my paternal grandmother died. Embalming gave me the willies, and I shivered at the mere memory of my grandmother’s made-up, leathery face in the coffin. I’d been so sure she was going to sit straight up like in a horror movie. At least my mom was returning my texts, for once.

  Rosie Ross [11:11 a.m.]: What can I send to grandpa and grandma then?

  Cecelia Young [11:15 a.m.]: You may send them a formal letter apologizing for not being there. Be sure you praise Auntie Soon Yi in the letter.

  My grandpa and grandma had visited a few times over my childhood, but the language barrier between us was huge. My Korean was… not good, to say the least. I could order food, ask for a bathroom, sing a few songs, and recite a few children’s poems. Writing a letter of any sort would be really challenging and require a lot of Google translate.

  I also had no idea if writing a letter to them was the right thing to do culturally or personally, or if it was just another example of my mom blowing me off. Still, if I was writing a letter, I could get help from other Korean speakers I knew that would help me communicate what I needed to say. And maybe, just maybe, I could ask my grandparents for advice about my mom. Even though they’d lived on different continents for a long time, they raised her. Surely, they would know how to approach her.

  Rosie Ross [11:16]: Can you send me the address to mail the letter?

  Cecelia Young [11:20]: They aren’t in the stone age, Rosie. Seoul is ten years ahead of the US. I’ll send you their email address.

  Well, if I’d ever been to Seoul, maybe I’d know that mom. It was easy for her to negotiate the traditional and modern aspects of a culture she’d been born into, but I was just floundering around blindly. My mom wasn’t exactly forthcoming with information about anything, let alone her parents. It was all very strange.

  Rosie Ross [11:21 a.m.]: Thank you.

  It wasn’t a great conversation with her, but when I looked back up at the PowerPoint of the class I was sitting in, I still felt a tiny bit better. My mom and I had a conversation. That was something.

  This lecture though… I yawned. I used to be so good at school. Now, however, it just wasn’t interesting to me. At all.

  I was sitting in music theory. The professor, a woman with a thick eastern European accent, was describing the ways in which the Avant Guard composer, Erik Satie, was different from other members of his general genre. She was barely intelligible and extraordinarily boring. I honestly didn’t care if Satie was a precursor to Debussy or not. This was not a worthwhile use of my time. This was supposed to be a music theory class, not a history of music class, anyway. I decided just to download the homework later. I excused myself.

  In the still of the building’s hallway, I sunk down to the ground and reopened my laptop. I could at least use this hour to get something done that I cared about. Erik Satie just didn’t quite cut it.

  Ryan had a great relationship with his family. It made me jealous. Just the night before, he’d told me all about how his whole family would gather for holidays in the suburbs of Dallas. They had all sorts of cute traditions and family dishes and memories together.

  His mom and dad were divorced, too, but they put their differences aside for him and Ian. That must be nice. My parents hadn’t even seen each other since their divorce was finalized. When they did communicate, it was through lawyers. I shook my head at the thought of them being civil at holidays. I wasn’t dreaming of cordial, just civil. It would never happen.

  Dear Grandma and Grandpa,

  I heard from mom that Auntie Soon Yi has passed away. I’m so sorry for your loss, and I regret that I wasn’t able to attend the funeral. I know she was the matriarch of the family, and that she lived with you for many years. I’m sorry that I never had the opportunity to know her. I hope that she’s at peace now, and that the funeral was good experience for the whole family.

  Now that I’m an adult, I wish that I had been closer to you both growing up. I know it’s hard to keep in good contact when we live so far away, and the fact that I don’t speak Korean is a problem, but I would like to talk more often with both of you.

  I’ve got a lot of wonderful memories from your visits when I was little. Like when you took me to the Roger Williams Park Zoo in Providence. I remember watching the fish in the aquarium and being afraid of the sharks. Grandma, do you remember telling me that sharks should be afraid of me instead of the other way around? I also remember getting knocked down to the ground by a goat in the petting zoo. I still don’t like goats because of that.

  I’m so lucky to have two grandparents, and I really want to get to know you both. I hope you feel the same way. Mom and I aren’t as close as I wish that we were. She barely speaks to me anymore since I moved to Texas to go to college. Do you have any recommendations for improving my relationship with her? I’m not sure how to get through to her, but I know she’s very disappointed in me because I have a relationship now with my dad. Did you ever meet him? He’s got a challengin
g personality as well, but all I really want is to be close to my family, even if it’s a challenge.

  I know that’s a lot of questions for one letter, so I’ll stop now. Anyway, I hope to hear from you. Thank you for being my grandparents.

  Love,

  Rosalind

  I wrote the letter in English and would now need to translate it, but I thought it sounded ok. Even if I received no reply, at least I could say I’d tried. Even if they deleted it as soon as they read it, I wouldn’t be any worse off than I was before. We had no relationship today, so if we had no relationship tomorrow, I couldn’t complain. After seeing what Ryan had with his family, I was too jealous not to try.

  43

  Ryan

  “What do you mean, not hungry. You’re always hungry.” Ian was looking at me suspiciously. He wasn’t wrong, but today was special.

  True to her word, Alexandra had brought in scones and muffins from her sister’s bakery. I’d been grazing on them all morning, so when lunch arrived, I wasn’t hungry. Nevertheless, I’d made plans to meet Ian, so that’s what I did.

  “I’d give you one of the baked goods Alexandra brought it, but they aren’t vegan,” I replied with a shrug.

  Ian pouted at me. “You know, that’s the one thing I miss: desserts.”

  “Muffins aren’t dessert. They’re breakfast. It’s the most important meal of the day.”

  He rolled his eyes and fought down a chuckle. I talked a good game, but the truth was that he was right, of course. There was no redeeming nutritional value in a lemon poppy seed muffin, no matter how good it was (and Alexandra’s sister made a really good one). I’d had to extend my leisurely morning jogs from one mile to two just to keep up with the increased caloric intake of dating Rosie. If I started eating all the treats Alexandra apparently had access to, I’d need to add on another mile. At least one. Maybe two. I’d eaten a lot of muffins.