Carrie
“Why are you doing this?”
Two days had passed since I’d asked Joe for some space. Stacy had spent those two days hounding the crap out of me, reminding me over and over again how stupid I was.
“Stacy, please stop. You’re making me crazy. I know you don’t get it, but I have to do what’s best for me. If I let things keep going the way they are with Joe and then decided later I just can’t do it, it would hurt him way worse than me needing a little break now.”
“Well I don’t like it.” Stacy crossed her arms and pouted, plopping down on my bed and watching while I packed. “So okay, whatever, you need space. Do you have to do it a billion miles away?”
“L.A. is hardly a billion miles away.” I rolled my eyes, though my back was to her and she couldn’t see it.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me, smart ass.”
“Oh my God, we’ve been friends for too long Stacy.”
“Whatever, bitch, you love me.” I glanced at her and saw her staring longingly at my little wardrobe closet that was storing anything and everything besides a wardrobe. “Soooo...you want me to get your mail for you and stuff while you’re gone?”
“No,” I scoffed. “I took your key away from you for a reason and you aren’t getting it back. Plus, that wardrobe cost me a fortune and I don’t want to come back and find it in pieces because you couldn’t stand not being able to get inside of it.”
“For someone with a closet full of sex toys, you are seriously no fun.” I turned to toss another leotard into my suitcase just as Stacy was pulling out half of my packed bag.
“Knock it off!” I swatted her hand and she humphed in response. “There is no direct correlation between how fun someone is and the number of sex toys they own. Besides, if things end up working out with Joe, I won’t need those anymore. His tongue does what no toy can.”
“Dirty.” Stacy waggled her eyebrows at me, then let out an exaggerated sigh. “How long will you be gone?”
I lost count of how many times she’d asked me that question since I told her I was leaving for L.A. “I already told you, I don’t know. Could be a few months, maybe less. The club Reed is opening there isn’t fully done yet, but the projected time line has them finishing in a couple months. I’ve got to do auditions and then get everyone trained before I can come back.”
“Did you tell him yet?”
I didn’t need to ask to know who him was. It was another question she already knew the answer to, so I didn’t bother responding.
“You have to tell him, Care.”
“I know that!” I snapped, tossing my hands into the air. My outburst would cause most people to rear back, but Stacy’s ass backwards response was to crack up.
“My, my, you’re testy.”
I sighed and fell back onto my bed, curling into Stacy’s side and throwing an arm around her waist. When we were younger we’d cuddle like that at night, mostly from fear of the dark or monsters under our bed. As we grew up, it became a comfort due to broken hearts or asshole fathers who abandoned their families.
“I’m not telling him until I’m about to board my plane. I wouldn’t put it past Joe to show up at the airport with a boom box or stage a flash mob or something to get me to stay.”
“Dammit, you suck the fun out of everything. You know I’ve always wanted to be in a flash mob.”
I snorted and snuggled closer to her, my head laying on her shoulder. “I’m gonna miss you, but I’ll be back here before you know it.”
Stacy gave me a squeeze and pulled out from under me, turning on her side to face me. “I know; it just feels a lot like running. And I know I’m a selfish bitch, but I don’t want to lose my best friend.”
I held out my pinky between us, a proffering, which she reluctantly returned. Just like when we were kids and one of us needed reassuring that everything was going to be fine, and that one gesture was all we needed.
~
A month had gone by, and not a word from Joe. No text, no call, just...nothing.
I would have accepted this as his respecting my wishes, but my daily phone calls with Stacy confirmed my worst fear. Joe was fine. He wasn’t miserable, not eating, depressed and crying over me being gone. He was living his life as his same old self, and that made me feel like shit for multiple reasons.
One, if you care about someone you should want them to be happy, right? So what did it say about me that I was so freaking upset that he was doing just fine?
And two, I was questioning why I did this in the first place. The distance wasn’t affecting him at all, but I was a freaking mess. Wasn’t I doing this so I could figure shit out? I was more confused than ever.
Stacy, always the butter-inner, had planted a seed in my brain that wouldn’t quit growing. Like a weed it sprouted and used my insecurities as food for the cause, making me turn into the hot mess I was secretly wishing Joe was instead.
“You know, you shouldn’t play games, Carrie. No one knows better than me,” she’d said a few nights before on the phone. “If you did this as some sort of test, then that’s fucked up. You can’t do that to men, they are clueless. If this whole thing was to see if he’d be a mess without you, then that shit backfired because he’s totally fine.”
Never one to sugar coat things for you, I knew I could count on Stacy to tell me the gut wrenching, soul crushing truth. Unfortunately, I found myself wishing she would just lie, or at the very least, play it down a little.
I guessed it was possible that she was right. That maybe I’d subconsciously hoped Joe would go crazy without me, and that maybe that would be enough to squash the remaining insecurities I felt. It most certainly had not been at the forefront of my mind. I might have been a selfish bitch, but I wasn’t cruel enough to just screw with someone for my own benefit.
Still, until I could figure out how to wrap my head around everything and the possible ramifications of what I’d done, I’d decided to quit taking her calls. I made sure to send a text here and there to let her know I was alive, making up excuses that I was sure she didn’t buy one bit, but I just couldn’t bring myself to hear more. Every time she told me Joe was ‘just fine’ I died a little inside. It was slowly killing me, bit by bit.
I managed to get away with avoiding everyone for a couple weeks, but that plan went to shit when a familiar face walked into one of my sessions with the dancers for Reed’s new club.
“Ian!” I ran and leaped into my big brother’s arms, unaware of how much I’d missed him until I saw his stupidly handsome face. “What are you doing here? How’s Adalyn?”
“You’d know how she is if you’d answer my freaking calls,” he admonished. I cringed outwardly. Ian’s was probably one of the only opinions that actually mattered to me, and I hated the disappointment in his voice and knowing I’d put it there.
“I know, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t hear any more about Joe and how freaking wonderful his life is without me.” I’d meant to sound flippant, but it came out more bitter than anything. “I know; I sound like a spoiled brat. Don’t worry, Stacy has made it perfectly clear how reprehensible my behavior is to everyone.”
I expected agreement from him, but he was looking at me like I had two heads.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you should know that Stacy’s opinion has no bearing on my own. And anyway, that’s not why I’m here.”
“Why are you here then?”
“To spend time with my little sis. Six weeks is entirely too long to go without seeing my only family. I was going to plan an impromptu visit out here to surprise you anyway, and then a potential new client from L.A. requested a meeting, which worked out because now I get to expense it all as business.”
His cheeky grin was ridiculous. “Ian, you’re richer than God. A trip to L.A. is a drop in the bucket for you.”
“I’m not quite that loaded, but the reason I have all that money is because I didn’t spend it frivolously.”
I rolled my eyes. Ian very much looked the part of the billionaire that he was, but behind the fancy clothes and very expensive facade, he was still just a normal guy. One of the main reasons anyone who met him loved him. Even Adalyn, who was more bitchy and stubborn than me, believe it or not, couldn’t help but fall for his charms.
“So anyway, I see that I interrupted something. Are you free for dinner later? Maybe you can show me around while I’m here.”
“Actually, we’re just finishing. Give me ten to wrap things up and we’ll eat a late lunch.”
A few hours later, Ian and I were wandering around the city, teasing each other just like old times. It was making me terribly homesick, which knowing my brother, was part of some master plan to get me to come back.
“I’ve been waiting for you to bring it up, but you’ve been none too subtly avoiding the topic, so I’m going to pull the big brother card here and force you to open up to me.”
I sighed, but I knew it was coming. He wasn’t going to let it go, either. Once he made up his mind about something, he didn’t stop until he got his way. Both an endearing and really freaking annoying quality to have in a brother.
“Fine, what do you want me to say.”
“Level with me and tell me why you’re really here. Don’t disrespect me by feeding me some bull about it being a good work opportunity, or you needing to figure shit out. I know you better than that, and you know I’d never judge you, so tell me the truth.”
We stopped walking and sat down on a bench just outside a little antique store on the main strip we’d been walking down.
“I’m scared.” Ian furrowed his brow at me, as if to say ‘duh’. “If it were just one thing that scared me, then I could handle it. But it’s a lot of things. Everything. I hate feeling like I can’t control the situation, or even my own feelings, and I don’t even know where to begin to fix things.”
“Have you tried talking to Joe about your fears?”
I scoffed. Ian knew me better than that. “Of course not, dummy. That would be the mature and logical thing to do, and I prefer to make my own life difficult and as miserable as possible. It’s kind of my M.O.”
It was Ian’s turn to scoff.
“Well why haven’t you at least tried to talk to me?”
I’d thought about it. No one knew my hang-ups better than Ian, because he’d lived through our parents’ shitty marriage, too. He was right next to me when our dad walked out, never to be heard from again, and when our mom died after drinking herself into oblivion for years.
“You’ve got enough on your plate, Ian. Between your business and being a newlywed with a baby on the way...I didn’t want to dump my crap on you like I always do. I thought I could handle this on my own.”
Ian pulled me into a side hug and squeezed me tight before pulling away and putting his hands on my shoulders, his arms fully extended so he could look me straight in the eyes.
“That’s the dumbest excuse I’ve ever heard.”
I pushed him away teasingly. It was so frustrating how often he was right. “I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been making a lot of really stupid decisions lately. So many that I don’t even know how to get myself out of this hole I’ve dug. I just don’t want to end up like mom.”
Shit, had I said that last part out loud?
Based on Ian’s reaction, that would be a resounding yes.
“Correct me if I’m wrong here, but I take that to mean that you’re afraid Joe’s playboy status means he won’t be faithful to you?” I nodded, uncharacteristically choked up and unable to speak. “You know Joe’s nothing like dad.” The tenderness in Ian’s voice broke the dam, and for the first time in a very long time, I sobbed in my brother’s arms.
“Carrie...I have a confession to make,” Ian said after several minutes once my sobs started to die down. I wiped my eyes and looked up at him, then gripped the edge of the bench with my hands, predicting that I would need to brace myself for what was to come. “Dad never cheated on mom.”
Well, shit. That wasn’t at all what I thought he was going to say. Then I saw it. The guilt of the secret he was harboring, but I was already hurting too much to be angry with him, no matter what he said.
“A few years after mom died, dad contacted me. I ignored him at first, too angry to want to hear him out. When my business hit it’s peak, and he contacted me again, I decided to face him. You and I were both doing well on our own, and a part of me wanted to shove it in his face that we weren’t affected by his absence.
“I was almost too late. Dad was pretty much gone, the syphilis had taken over his brain and dementia had set in. His caregiver gave me a journal he’d written for us. I didn’t even want to read it at first. I felt horrible for waiting so long to talk to him, and if what was in it was going to make me feel worse, I just couldn’t face it.”
Ian reached inside his jacket and pulled a small leather bound book out, and we both stared at it with fear - him afraid I would be mad that he was just now telling me, and myself afraid of what was contained inside.
I put my hand over his, gently taking the book from his grip, and gave him a peck on his cheek. He startled and looked at me with disbelief, which made me laugh.
“Don’t look so surprised, big brother. I’m capable of acting rationally once in awhile. My most recent behavior doesn’t really set a good example for that, but I’m trying to be better.”
Ian offered to be with me when I read it, but I declined politely. I wanted to be alone when I fell apart. And I was certain that I would fall apart.
After another few minutes of small talk, Ian could tell I was anxious to read what was inside, so we said our goodbyes with promises to see each other soon.
As anxious I was to read the journal, I forced myself to continue walking. I wanted to be in the right frame of mind to read it. Ian didn’t outright tell me what our dad had written about, but eluded to it possibly being life altering for me. That was most likely the reason he’d kept it from me for so long. There was a time when it drove me nuts how Ian took it upon himself to decide what was best for me. Over time I’ve come to realize that more times than not, he’s right. And the times when he’s wrong, his heart was in the right place.
The sun had just gone down and the air had a slight chill to it, and I had my ‘doh’ moment. You know - the one in those stupid romantic comedies when the bloody annoying girl finally freaking realizes what the audience has known the whole time? The pivotal moment where she’s already screwed up by being so damn blind, and it ends up taking some grand gesture to win back the man she loves?
Yeah, that was me. I was that girl who spent so much time being in denial, refusing to face reality, that she almost lost everything.
Only my life wasn’t a movie. There was already a decent chance I’d done irreparable damage and it was too late. That there wasn’t a gesture grand enough to bring back what I’d turned my back on.
I had always prided myself on being brave and taking risks - my love life being the one part of myself I had kept guarded. I used my parents’ failed marriage as an excuse, among so many others that no longer held any weight. My fear of getting my heartbroken blinded me to the fact that it was breaking just by denying myself the happiness Joe was offering me.
Joe knew what he was doing when he let me leave. I had to decide for myself that I was stronger than the fear, and it was Ian’s story of regret that finally did me in. Whether or not my dad had cheated on my mom was irrelevant to my decisions, because my life was my own. I was trying to avoid following my mom’s footsteps by denying myself the potential to fall in love, but all I was doing was making my own life just as miserable as hers, only in a different way.
I would spend the rest of my life not knowing if I could have fixed things if I didn’t take the leap and find out. No matter the outcome, it was time for me to go home.