by Gina Azzi
My thumb brushes over his name on the screen and a swell of longing fills my chest. God, I miss him. I wish I had been more honest and open with him from the start. I wish he knew the depth of my agony. Maybe he would have understood? Maybe I wouldn’t have needed so much intervention to set myself on the right path.
Me: Merry Christmas! It’s no worries. I miss them. Hope you’re all enjoying Delaware.
James: We miss you. How are you?
We. Does that mean him too? I hope so.
Me: I’m okay. Sorting through some things. It’s long overdue.
James: ???
Me: I’ll see you in the New Year.
James: We should talk.
My stomach twists at his words. Jerry’s message from weeks ago flickers through my mind. Will talking to James do more good or harm at this point? What will I even say to him? Am I ready to have the real conversation, the one where I leave all my cards on the table, and allow him to see the depths of my vulnerability?
I blow out a deep breath and pick up my coffee mug. I take a long sip and let the bold roast center me. Right now, I need to focus on the matter at hand. A ringing sound and a pop-up window on the screen of my laptop alerts me to Dr. Carlisle’s call.
Me: Soon. Have a good day.
James’s name flashes across the phone screen a second later but I ignore his call, place my phone facedown on the table, and accept Dr. Carlisle’s invitation to talk.
James: Are you okay?
Me: I’m getting there.
James: Please, talk to me, Bella. I’m worried about you.
Me: Don’t be. I’m right where I need to be.
James: Are you still coming back in time for the Detroit game? Are you visiting your parents?
Me: Yes, I’ll be back in time for the Detroit game. Are the twins having fun with their grandmother?
James: Yes. They are thrilled to spend time with their new baby cousin too. I’m back in Boston but Maia is going to stay in Delaware with them this week and bring them back on Tuesday.
Me: That’s great. It’s good to have family you can count on. I’ll be back in town next weekend.
Minutes pass and I wonder if James is going to respond. I turn in my bed, reaching over to the bedside table to place down the book I was reading and flick off the lamp. I’m tired but a ripple of satisfaction runs through me. With each passing day, I feel more balanced and less agitated. I’m building a toolbox with methods to use when the anxiety swells. I’m learning how to cope and discovering more about the life I’d like to lead.
The shift from last week to today is tangible. Of course I know I’m not perfectly healed. I know this is more about the journey than the destination and that I can get better but not necessarily be well. But I’m on the path. I’m putting in the time. I’m being honest and I’m not shying away from the feelings, as mentally draining and emotionally gutting as they are. With each sunrise, I feel a little more settled, a little less restless, a bit more whole. My runs have lost some of their intensity, the need to physically exhaust myself has lessened. I am making progress. I hit a bump in the road and now I’m re-aligning. Dr. Carlisle says this happens sometimes and the important thing is to keep going, keep moving forward.
James: You can still count on me.
James’s message surprises me and I read it three times to make sure I’m understanding it correctly. But I know he’s being honest. I know that right now, if I called him and needed him, he’d drop everything to show up for me. I smile at the thought, the realization a comfort. But I’m not ready to let James in yet. Soon, but not yet.
Me: I know. We’ll talk soon.
James: I hope so, Bella. I’m ready when you are.
I smile again, a little thrill zipping through me. I miss James Ryan more than words can express. I hope I can be worthy of him once more. I glance at the time, realizing it’s already after midnight in Boston. I yawn and tap out one last message.
Me: Good night, James.
James: Sweet dreams, Bella.
21
James
Indecision and frustration weigh on me as I stare at Bella’s text messages from last night. She’s erected a wall between us, a barrier I can’t scale no matter how hard I try.
“Hey.” Austin sits down on the bench in front of me.
“Hey,” I reply, dropping my phone into my practice bag. I look around the locker room, realizing we’re the only two left.
“Want to grab a beer?” my team captain asks.
I grin and shake my head. “Am I that obvious that you’re suggesting beer before a game?”
“Game’s tomorrow. Come on. Taps?”
“Sure.” I nod, grateful for the distraction.
Austin and I leave The Meadow together, catching up from the holidays. He tells me about how his family spent Christmas with his girl, Chloe, and her family. Sure, the Merricks and the Crawfords go way back, from when Austin and Chloe were kids. But as Austin explains how they blended their holiday traditions, I recognize just how important it is to keep old memories alive while continually adding to them and making space for new ones. A hollowness spreads through my chest at the realization that I never made enough room for Bella and her past in my world.
She wants a family and I never considered how that would look. Not for the first time, I wish I was open with Milly and Mason from the start. I wish I better understood Bella’s desires and the twins’ expectations before I started envisioning a future that might not align with everyone else’s.
I think about that as I drive to Taps.
When Austin and I are seated at the bar, with fresh pints set out before us, Austin tilts his head toward me. “Lay it on me, man.”
“It’s really not that bad,” I say.
“You’ve been in your head all week.”
I sigh, tipping my chin in acknowledgement. This past week, I have been a little lost, and not even the promise of hockey and the allure of the ice has been able to draw me from my thoughts. “Bella and I…” I trail off, unsure what to say.
“What happened?”
I swear and Austin raises his eyebrows. I quickly fill him in on everything that transpired since Milly caught Bella and me in bed together. “And now,” I conclude, “I realized how much I don’t know about her. About her past. I mean, I show up to Selina’s place and Bella’s crying, looking at her dirtbag ex-husband like he’s worth a damn. I know nothing about their history. It just…it fucking sucks that she’s kept her guard up around me while I’ve let her in.”
Austin takes a swig of his beer, his expression carefully neutral. “Where is she now?”
“Spending the holidays with her family. But that’s another thing. She promised she’d never ghost me and…I know she didn’t just leave. It’s not like she won’t respond to my messages or anything. But when things between us got tough, she ran.”
“You’re angry,” Austin notes.
I shrug, picking up my pint. “I’m hurt.”
“Because she took a time-out?” he asks.
“Because she doesn’t trust me. Not the same way I trust her.”
“Have you guys talked?”
“She says we will but she’s not ready yet. I need to respect that.”
“Yeah, you do,” Austin says and I look at him in surprise. He offers me a small smile. “It sounds like she’s working through a lot. I know you feel like she wasn’t as upfront with you as you were with her. But if she let you in, even a little bit, it means she trusts you. It’s just harder for her, and if she’s working through that, then she obviously needs the time and space to do so.”
“Shit,” I swear. “I think you may be right.” Even Bella admitted that I’ve seen more of her than anyone else. Does this mean she’s spent the past few years suffering in silence? The thought makes me ache for her on top of all the loss she’s experienced.
“How are the twins handling it?” Austin tips back his beer and polishes it off.
“They’re doing
okay. They’ve been distracted, being in Delaware with Maia and their teta. They’re there until next week and I think the space from Boston, the time with their family, has been good for them.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah. I miss them though. I wish I understood Milly’s reaction more. Why is she upset about Bella? Not that she shouldn’t be; I just want to understand the root of her concerns. To help her clarify them so we can work through them.”
“Are the twins in therapy?” Austin asks.
“Huh?” I look up. At the surprise on his expression, I wince, and recall the folder I tucked away in the kitchen junk drawer after Layla passed. “No, but maybe I should make an appointment for Milly?”
“It can’t hurt. You can try a family session too,” Austin advises.
I nod slowly, wondering how the hell I didn’t think of this sooner. “Yeah. Okay, thanks, Austin. I have a teammate from college whose wife is a children’s therapist at Bellevue.”
“Worth making a phone call.”
“Yeah. It is. Thanks, man,” I say seriously. Then, I grin and clasp his shoulder. “You’re one hell of a captain, Cap.”
He shakes off my touch and flips me the bird but he’s smiling too.
I turn toward Pete and order another round.
I return home that evening, acutely aware of how quiet it is. I miss the twins but I miss Bella too. I plop onto the living room couch and kick my feet up on the coffee table, glancing around the space. Layla’s smile stares down at me from a framed family photo on the mantle. The twins’ artwork is framed on the wall to the right. We built a beautiful life here and now that life, the one I knew and clung to, has passed. It was agonizing and awful and brought me to a crossroads.
For too long I gave up on trying to find happiness. I gave up on a lot of things. But existing isn’t the life Layla would want for me. In fact, she’d probably be disappointed if I didn’t strive to set a better example for Milly and Mason. If I didn’t aspire to try again, to be open to new possibilities, to allow myself to fall in love.
Of course, I’d never do anything to hurt my daughter’s fragile emotional state, but I also can’t abandon my feelings for Bella.
What is she working through now? Does she even want me after everything that happened between us? Does she still want us?
What about the twins? Are they open to the changes that my being in a relationship with Bella would bring? Could they ever view her as their stepmother?
My phone rings and I swipe it off the coffee table, sitting straight as Maia’s name flashes across the screen. That flicker of panic, the one that sparked to life when I became a dad and has only increased since, burns through me.
“Maia, what’s wrong?” I answer.
She snorts and I can picture her rolling her eyes on the other end of the line. “Nothing, JR. Nothing is wrong.”
“Oh.” I settle back into the couch cushions. “Okay. What’s going on?”
“Well, I just had a chat with my favorite niece and she shed some light on a very interesting conversation.”
I freeze, gripping the phone tighter. “Is Milly okay? Is it about Bella?”
“Milly’s fine,” Maia says gently. “And yes, it’s about Bella.”
I bite my cheek to keep from blurting out a million questions. In a strange way, it’s as if my recent thoughts somehow conjured up this conversation with Maia. Things are about to come full circle, this conversation is about to answer all the unknowns I’ve been contemplating.
“She’s scared,” Maia says.
“What?” I ask, my eyebrows dipping.
“Milly’s scared that if Bella becomes too close to you all, a part of your family, then she’ll die like Layla.” Maia’s voice cracks on her sister’s name and my chest squeezes at the pain in her tone. At the fear my poor baby girl has been trying to swallow down, not knowing how to confide it in me.
“No,” I say, my voice layered with emotion. “No, she would have told me…”
“She didn’t know how. JR, I think on some level she knows it doesn’t make sense but she can’t help the fear, the anxiety, she’s experiencing.”
My stomach twists and I feel physically ill. My conversation with Austin flares to life in my mind as I recall other conversations. Conversations I had with childhood psychologists after Layla’s death. Words like bereavement, loss of control, depression, post-traumatic stress, avoidance. Words I overlooked at the time because I was a single dad drowning in grief.
But now…how many signs did I miss? How much did I not recognize?
“Jesus,” I mutter, feeling like I’m caught in a riptide. I’m way out of my depth here and that familiar feeling of failure overwhelms me. “I let her down.”
“No, no you didn’t, JR. You couldn’t have known,” Maia tries, her tone compassionate.
“I’m her father, Maia. I should have seen the…the signs. I should have talked to her more about Bella. When she ran out of the room crying that morning, I didn’t listen the way I should have.”
“You did your best,” Maia refutes. “You’re a good dad, JR. Parenting isn’t easy and single parenting is something else entirely.”
I blow out a sigh, shaking my head. “How’s she doing?”
“She’s good. Right now, she and mom are baking maamoul.”
I smile, recalling the shortbread cookies filled with dates that Layla loved to bake during the holidays.
“Can I talk to her?” I ask, not wanting to interrupt her time with her teta but also needing to hear her voice.
“Of course.” Maia calls out for Milly.
“How’s Mase?”
“He’s great. He’s having a good time, loves being with the baby. I think he misses you. And Bella. But he doesn’t have the same worries Milly is struggling with. Hang on, here she is.”
“Thanks, Maia. For everything.”
“Anytime,” my sister-in-law says. In the next breath, the sweetest voice I’ve ever heard comes through the line.
“Hi, Daddy,” Milly says.
“Hey, Mil. How’re you doing, sweetheart?”
“I’m good.”
“You having fun?”
“Yes, I’m baking with Teta. Amo Zein is taking Mase and me to the movies later.”
I snort, betting that Layla’s brother Zein, a new father, is desperate to get out of the house for a short while. His son has colic and I know it hasn’t been an easy transition for the first-time parents. “That sounds awesome. If Amo Zein falls asleep, go easy on him.”
“I will. I miss you, Daddy.”
“Miss you too, Jellybean. Aunt Maia is bringing you home soon.”
“Will Bella be there?”
I sigh, not sure how to answer that question. Bella said she’d be back by the time we play Detroit but…she hasn’t said anything since. Should I look for alternative childcare? Should I ask Maia to come with me and the kids to Detroit?
“I really miss her,” Milly adds.
“You do?”
“Yeah. I-I thought if you and Bella got married, then something would happen to her. What would we do if she died too?”
I swallow past the lump in my throat, my hands nearly shaking. “That’s not going to happen, baby girl.”
“But how do you know? Mama used to say you can’t predict the future.”
“Well, that’s true. But what happened to Mama doesn’t happen to everyone. Have any of your friends lost their mommies?”
“No.”
“See?” I point out gently.
“But now Bella’s gone anyway. I cried too much and she left.”
My heart breaks for Milly. “That’s not true either, Jellybean. Bella just had some things she needed to take care of.”
“So, she’s coming back?” she asks hopefully as my stomach sinks.
“I hope so,” I answer truthfully.
“I hope so too, Daddy.” She sighs and then, “Can’t you fix this? Make her come home? You always protect your team, right?�
�
Emotion builds in my throat, making it difficult to swallow or speak. I clear my throat and grip the phone until my knuckles ache. “Right. I’ll see what I can do, okay, Mils?”
“Okay. Here’s Aunt Maia.”
“Love you, Jellybean.”
“Love you,” Milly says.
“JR?” Maia comes back on the line.
“Did you hear all of that?” I ask.
“I did,” Maia says slowly. “Are you asking what I think you should do?”
“I’m not opposed to hearing your two cents,” I joke.
“Bring her home, JR. I know it hasn’t been easy but…if you love Bella, she must be pretty special. Don’t pass her up because of your past. Or hers.”
“Yeah,” I agree, clearing my throat again. “I’ll see…”
“Call her. Then let me know what you need from me. Anything I can do to help, I’ll—”
“You already do more than you should.”
She laughs. “We’re family, James. This is what family does.”
“Thanks, Maia.”
“See you soon.”
“See you. And thanks.” I hang up the phone and force myself to stand.
Pacing around my living room, I try to make sense of everything that happened. Milly trying to manage her anxiety, trying to process her mother’s death. Mason, desperate to be back in a stable family environment, his uncle and baby cousin providing stability and a sense of merriment that I’ve been short on. Bella, away for the holidays, barely speaking to me, and still slaying demons.
I enter the kitchen and dig through the junk drawer until I find the folder I’m looking for. Then, I dial the number handwritten on the bottom.
“Bellevue Psychology, how may I direct your call?”
“Hi, may I please speak with Dr. Haley?” I ask.
“Certainly. May I ask who’s calling?”
“This is James. James Ryan,” I state.
A moment later, a friendly voice I recall from college floods the line. “James? I’m so glad you called.”
After I make an appointment for Milly to meet with my college teammate’s wife, I make appointments for my family to see another therapist.