by Dylan Allen
“Money. How much?” He asks stiffly.
I scoff and shake my head. “How small your world must be for you to believe with such certainty that entire lives can be bargained away for something as fungible as money.”
I stole that line from Will. I had to ask him what fungible meant, and when he said, “In essence it’s anything you could replace without anyone knowing the difference.”
I learned in the space of seconds it took him to explain it what I failed to understand properly all these months. – I was giving Duke invaluable, irreplaceable gifts — years of my life, legitimacy, financial security all in exchange for, something I could get anywhere.
But Will didn’t seek me out to give me relationship advice. He was seeking atonement.
I wasn’t sure that I’d been able to give him that. But he gave me my freedom in exchange. What he told me ensured that I will never marry Duke. Not now, that I know what he’s done.
“Stop talking in riddles and name your price,” my father growls, leaning toward me.
The church door opens and Phil sticks his head out. “Hey, is every—” he stops when he sees the tense standoff taking place.
“Get those fucking cameras out of here,” my father snarls at the crew that’s hovering nervously around us.
They don’t need to be told twice. They scurry outside.
“Liz?” Phil calls.
“Phillip, go and ask our guests to wait a few minutes. Your sister needs a few minutes,” my father snaps without looking back at him.
“I need a lifetime. I’m not going in there. I’m leaving,” I tell my father.
He clenches his jaw, his expression that of someone whose chewing glass and trying to pretend it’s not cutting their mouth.
“Let me get rid of the guests. We can have the ceremony in private.”
I laugh. “You can do what you want. Nothing could make me marry the man who’s responsible for my brother’s death.”
He blinks, genuine surprise flickers across his face.
“What are you talking about?”
“Shit,” Phil says and looks over his shoulder quickly. “Duke’s coming down the aisle. The best thing for everyone is for this to not end with a loud scene,” he says.
I nod in agreement. “Can you get me out of here?” I ask him.
“Liz, what the fuck?” Duke explodes through the door, his face is mottled red by fury.
He comes to stand in front of me, so close I can smell the perfume of whoever left the smudge of pink lipstick that’s still on the corner of his mouth.
God, he’s such a cliché.
I step away but keep my eyes on his so he can see that it’s revulsion, not fear, propelling me.
“You can go straight to hell,” I snarl at him.
“Elisabeth, you owe us an explanation, now,” My father demands angrily.
I don’t take my eyes off Duke. “Will Oh was here,” I say.
“So? What does he have to do with anything?” Duke’s eyes bulge with anger.
“I know it was you who called James that night. He was talking to Will and told him what you said.”
Duke’s face pales and he takes a step back.
“He’s lying.” His eyes swing to my father and grows even paler.
“You told James that I was hurt and your car had a flat. You lured him to his death. And when my father blamed me, you didn’t say a word.” I deliver the accusation with a challenge, daring him to deny it.
His anxious gaze darts to my father, and he grows even paler. I glance at my dad. He’s glaring at Duke, his expression ice cold and furious.
Duke’s cheeks go from pale to florid and he rears back in indignation. “You bitch,” he snarls.
“That’s better than being a vile, mediocre man who has to drug girls for sex and marry them for money.”
Phil snickers and the covers it with a cough. I don’t take my eyes off the pit viper standing in front of me.
“You will regret that,” he hisses.
“Elisabeth, stop this nonsense,” my father snaps.
“I answer to Beth. And didn’t you hear what I said?”
“Yes, and it doesn’t matter. You owe me,” he growls.
“You motherfucker,” Phil’s oath is low but dangerously dark and my father narrows his eyes at him but doesn’t say anything.
“Liz, this is a misunderstanding. Let’s go ahead like we planned. You promised,” Duke pleads.
I turn my contempt filled gaze on him. “My brother is dead because of you. But I’d rather starve than let you profit from it.”
Fiona and my grandmother step out of the sanctuary, now.
“What’s going on. People are getting antsy,” my grandmother’s terse question is barbed in anxiety.
They all have so much riding on today. I’ve never been so happy to disappoint anyone in my whole life.
I’ll look back on this moment and marvel at how calm I was on the edge of my life.
Right now, all I feel is the loosening of the hand that’s been wrapped around my throat under the guise of breaking my fall.
I’m going to trust my wings and take my chance on the unknown abyss. The certainty that this is right quells my fear.
I turn away from Duke’s thunderous, dumbstruck face and look at my father.
“I’m leaving, and I won’t be back. There’s nothing for me here.” I almost laugh at the shock on her face.
“What? You can’t. Lizzy, you promised. What about Cameron? Drew…what happened?” Fiona sputters and then looks between the three of us, her mouth is hanging open and her eyes are nearly round with shock.
“Cameron is your daughter. You take care of her.” The words, ones I couldn’t have imaged saying just a few months ago, roll off my tongue before I can think to hold them back. But I feel no remorse as she covers her open mouth with her hands and starts to sob.
My father looks like his head is about to explode and his eyes, wide and stunned, aren’t on me.
They’re on Duke.
“Come on, Beth. Let’s get out of here.” Phil walks toward me, with his hand outstretched. Duke wakes up from his stupor and lunges for me. But Phil is faster and blocks me from Duke’s reach and view with his body.
“Liz, you have to hear me out.” Duke pleads from behind us, his hands locking onto my shoulder in a vice grip.
Phil pulls them off like he’s lifting a feather. In the blink of an eye, he has Duke slammed up against the wall.
His hand is wrapped around his throat.
“If you ever touch my sister again, I swear, I will fucking kill you and go to jail, happily, knowing the world is rid of you.”
“Fuck you, Wolfe. I know you did this.” Duke seethes, struggling in vain to loosen Phil’s grip.
Phil’s shoulders shake with the force of his dark chuckle.
“Oh, I haven’t done anything yet, you sick son of a bitch. But I will. I’m not going to stop until you’re rotting in a jail cell,” his voice is menace laced with vengeance and his words hang in the air between then.
Duke’s face turns red, the veins in his neck and face raised as his panicked eyes dart around the room looking for help.
“Phil, put him down. Please. Let’s just leave,” I say and glance meaningfully at the armed guards who’ve joined the fracas, waiting for the word from my father to intervene.
He lets him go with a shove that sends Duke flying.
He’s smiling when he takes my hand in his and turns us toward the door
“Elisabeth, get back here,”my father bellows.
I turn and face him, my eyes full of all of my enmity for him. He’ stops so fast that he almost tips forward when inertia keeps his body in motion when his feet stop moving.
My heart is pounds with excitement. I’m reaching for freedom with both hands and I’m not afraid. Not even a little.
“If you try to stop me, I’ll walk in there and lay all of your sins bare, too. Then, all your fancy friends will know who you
really are. You won’t be able to show your face anywhere but this town you’ve bought with your money.”
His face pales and he looks at me like he wants to ask “what the hell happened to you?” But he doesn’t say a word.
He glances at my grandmother who is standing next to a still weeping Fiona.
Her expression is grim as she surveys the scene. There’s disgust in her eyes when she glances at my father, before she turns and walks back into the church.
His lips pucker in anger and he leans in, looming over me. “You’re nothing to me,” he says in a hoarse whisper.
The menace in his eyes is real. But, I’m not moved by it. My chuckle is sad and hollow. “Then our feelings are finally in sync.”
Just when we reach the bottom of the stairs, my father shouts after Phil, his footsteps thud on the steps behind us and we stop.
He strides toward us, his angry eyes burn straight into Phil.
“You’ll be sorry you did this. You could have had your rightful place. You shouldn’t have come back.” his arm extends and points at Phil, his face full of vengeance.
Phil scoffs. “I came back for my siblings, and for you,” he says with a voice so cold, I shiver under the hot summer sun.
Cold Turkey
LIZ
When Phil asked where I wanted to go as we left the church, I didn’t even have to think about it before I answered. Every single possession I hold dear is stored in an upstairs closet in James’s house. Well, it’s Phil’s house now. He bought it from Erin last year.
We’ve just pulled into the driveway. Ten minutes ago, and I was riding the wave of adrenaline and conviction that propelled me to walk away from everything I’d been minutes away from shackling myself to.
Now, I’m less certain. All of the reasons I had for staying are running through my mind.
Cameron.
Money.
Fear of facing a world that I didn’t know how to navigate and falling flat on my face.
“I thought you were going to do it,” Phil finally gives voice to the emotion that’s been hanging heavy in the silence between us.
Chagrined, I duck my head and reach up to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear before I remember that I yanked my wig off as soon as we pulled away.
“I’m sorry. I wanted to say something when you were walking into the church. But, my mind was reeling from what Will told me.” My hands curl into fists in my lap.
“I wish there was a way to really make him pay. He didn’t know James would have that accident but they were luring him there for something… but what?”
He puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “I’m going to find out. You know you can’t stay here, now, right?”
I swallow hard and nod. “I’m not sure if I’m ready…but I know.”
“There’s never a good time to make changes like this. If that’s what you’re waiting for, you’ll be here until you die.”
I drop my head back on the seat’s head rest and close my eyes against the wave of dread that rushes into me like a gale force wind.
“You need time to heal, and you need to find a way to really forgive yourself. Maybe, find a way to reconnect with Carter.”
I jerk away even as my heart leaps and strains forward at the sound of her master’s name.
“Don’t let shame, misplaced and unfairly yoked, keep people you care about out of your life.”
“Sure,” I say with my eyes on my lap.
“You’ll get over him, you’ll see.” He says, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder.
I nod but my throat is dry and tight. The words won’t come. As if heart won’t countenance the lie. Not when it’s rioting so fiercely that my entire body aches from its protest.
“What’s wrong? I’m here, you can tell me,” he says in a voice so soothing, so familiar, that despair coils itself around my heart.
I know he’s trying to encourage and comfort me. But he doesn’t know everything I’ve lost.
“I was pregnant when he left,” I blurt. I brace for the revulsion I’m sure he won’t be able to hide. Phil grabs my chin and forces my face upward until our eyes meet. There’s no judgment there, just compassion and love.
Tears sting my eyes and he wipes away the single stream that runs down my cheek.
“Did you…get rid of it?” There’s no condemnation in his voice, just concern and I don’t deserve it.
“I was going to…I mean, I didn’t see any other way. But before I could, I had a miscarriage.”
His eyes harden.
“Does Carter know?”
“No, I didn’t tell him.” I try to pull a deep breath into my burning lungs and can only manage a series of gasps.
“Oh Clo, it’s okay,” Phil reaches across the center console to pull me into a hug.
“No, it’s not oaky. I’m not okay. There’s not a day that I haven’t longed for that baby. I would do anything to have a piece of him with me.” Speaking the truth gives life to a new kind of ache — longing for an impossible chance to rewind time, make different choices, and say different prayers.
“There’s nothing wrong with loving him. I know it’s not the kind of love you’d like to share. But it doesn’t have to be all or nothing.”
I wipe away the tears that are falling freely now and shake my head.
“You don’t understand. I don’t know how else to love him, Phil. I can’t stop. I’ve tried. So hard. I know it’s wrong. And I’m terrified that I’ll always feel this way.”
The confession flows from the very center of me. It is my greatest fear.
“Give yourself time. Time where you don’t have to pretend. Process your feelings. You will move on. I know it doesn’t feel that way now but you will.”
No, it doesn’t feel that way now. Right now, I can’t imagine not craving Carter.
Not needing him.
Not missing him.
The hurt I’ve been pushing down is a tsunami, unstoppable and with no regard for the destruction it will cause. I can’t afford to let it loose. Not now.
So, I let a sob escape but, I hold the rest in.
He pulls me into his arms and this time, I let my head rest on his shoulder for a few minutes while I put myself back together. Like I have every single morning since my world fell apart.
But this time, I have new truths to use as my mortar and with my brother’s arms around me, supporting me, some of my earlier conviction returns.
“I’m ready. I want to leave before they can regroup and find a way to stop me.
Phil and I are at the small airport in Austin. Everything I need is stuffed into a backpack and one small suitcase.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you?” He asks again. He’s wearing dark aviators, so I can’t see his eyes, but his smile has dimmed since we set off from Winsome.
“I’ll be fine. I want to do this like everyone else does.” I slip my backpack onto my shoulders, grab the handle of the suitcase, and roll it to my side.
He hands me a large envelope. “Here, take this.”
“What’s this?” I ask not reaching out for it. He rolls his eyes in exasperation and reaches around me to stuff it into the pocket of my backpack.
“Money. Unless you plan on flying first class to Brazil or something, this should be enough one way to anywhere your license will allow you to travel and a few months of living expenses.”
My heart swells with gratitude and love.
“Oh Phil, thank you. But, you didn’t have to do that. I have money saved. I’ll get a job. I’ll be okay.”
He pulls his sunglasses off, and his eyes are wet with unshed tears, but they’re not sad. His smile is nostalgic and he cups my face and presses a kiss to my forehead.
“You’ll be better than okay. I know you don’t really need my help. Because you’ve managed all these years without it. But, this is what we do for the people we love. I’m sorry I didn’t help sooner. I had to get myself straight. Now that I can, I want to. Plea
se, let me.”
I nod in quick acceptance as a more pressing thought occurs.
“How did you do it? I mean, when you left here. How did you get straight?”
“I was lost. I was scared. I didn’t have any money but I spent part of my very first paycheck on a therapist. It’s what saved me. If you can’t find a therapist, look for a group. They’re everywhere. Talking about things always makes them easier to think about, too.” He shakes his head as wistful nostalgia clouds his eyes.
“Okay, that’s good. I’ll try it,” I say and then realize I have no idea how I’d even go about finding a therapist or any doctor.
I feel a wave of apprehension. He pulls me into a hug.
“I’m scared,” I admit with my face pressed to chest.
“Because you want this so much,” he says it like it’s the inalterable truth.
I do want this. I’ve wanted it my whole life.
It will be a challenge. Those, I’ve found, are my expertise.
The doubt thins and loses its potency as excitement starts to seep in.
He lets go of me and gives my chin a gentle tap.
“You’ll see… the way I did, the strongest armor any of us have is the love we give ourselves. Nothing can defeat you once you have that in place.”
“I want that.” I can’t imagine what it would feel like to be free of the self-loathing that’s plagues me most of the time.
“I’m proud of you for what you did in that church, you’re so strong, Liz. The world is yours and I’m going to miss you,” he says with a wistful look in his eyes.
“I’m sorry I wasted this entire year not talking to you.” It sounds so pithy and paltry.
He shakes his head to silence me. “Don’t apologize for anything. Just go live your life. Start your Winsome detox and don’t be afraid to go Cold Turkey. Forgive yourself. Stop expecting superhuman thing from your very human soul. Treat yourself the way you treat everyone else you love.”
His words jostle my memory and I reach into my backpack and pull out a sealed envelope.
“This is for Carter. Can you find a way to get this to him? I don’t know when I’ll be ready, but I want him to know some things.”