KINDNESS
Be kind. For everyone is fighting a battle.
~ Anonymous
Willow
SOME HATE THE concept of insomnia. For me, it’s the best recipe for my emotional dysregulation. When I’m tired, my entire body—including my mind—is lethargic. Some days, I have trouble getting out of bed. Work pushes me to do what I feel is impossible, waking up and showering. The great thing about being an actress is becoming my character and forgetting the turmoil going on inside of me. As I work in an office, greeting people all day long, having an emotional imbalance isn’t ideal. Behaving like a nutcase in front of my grandfather, who by the way hates me as much as he hates my mother, is out of the question.
If my system crashes, I hope it happens on a weekend after I quit this ridiculous job. Why did I agree to this? Dealing with so many people and pretending to be blissful all the time is draining. When I do it while singing and dancing, it’s enjoyable. Behind this stupid desk, not so much. The elevator dings, the doors open, and Hunter ‘clean-cut’ Everhart is the first thing, beaming toward me.
“Ready to go, gorgeous?” I raise an eyebrow, wondering why he’s here. Tapping his wrist, he mouths, it’s late.
I look down, checking the clock on the computer screen. “Six already?”
“You can guess the time?”
“Of course, I’m also a magician.” I wrinkle my nose, move my hand in like doing a hocus pocus kind of wand waving and wink at him.
He comes closer, discovering my secret. “Cheater.” He kisses me on the tip of my nose, tapping the top of the desk that mocks an evening news set. Only, if someone steps close enough, they can see the monitor through the glass. The keyboard is under the screen. I can either pull out the tray where it’s installed or guess the keys I should type. If I’m bored, I do the latter.
“If you say so. Where do you want to go today?”
I open my mouth when the crackling sound of the intercom makes me jolt. They have to fix this thing. I swear my grandfather has had this instrument since the Nixon era. It clashes with the modern décor. The museum of history would be an excellent place to preserve it. There are many other ways to communicate with the reception, why wouldn’t he use them?
“Willow, before you leave, can I see you in my office?”
I stare at the black box, waiting for something more. A reprimand for taking an extra hour during lunch earlier. Did I forget to leave a note saying I was meeting my agent? Checking my phone, I reread the exchange I had with Hazel earlier today. She said there wouldn’t be a problem as long as I told him. My little sister insists I’m too sensitive. He isn’t the ogre our mother painted him out to be while we were growing up.
Hazel hasn’t heard him talk about our mother, or she doesn’t care. He insists she’s bad for Dad. They’ve been together for years, have two children, and are happy. How can he continue saying such stupid things? Reminding myself Hazel begged me to be good, I leave my post, heading to his office. I stop right in front of the sliding doors and look over my shoulder.
“This won’t take long,” I promise Hunter, who is walking around the desk and taking a seat.
He waves his hand. “Go ahead, Low, I’ll be here monitoring the phones.”
Giving him a quizzical look, I have to ask, “Have you done it before?”
“Of course, our company has a reception, too. I have done almost every job, including working in the mailroom.”
I open my mouth to ask him questions. There’s so much I haven’t learned about him, but the intercom crackles again. Damn, the man needs to learn patience. I hurry before he yells about me taking my sweet time.
I walk down the hall to the corner office protected by a set of double doors, like a fortress where the evil emperor reigns his empire. I chuckle at my thoughts, hating that Hazel is right in my head. Wiggling the handle, I push the door open at the same time as I enter the room. Passing through the threshold, I’m struck by the vast space decorated with a modern vibe blended with a few classic objects. Like his big, dark, wooden desk. Best of all is the view of the Manhattan skyline as the sunset creates a relaxing atmosphere, yet makes him look as powerful as I’ve come to believe he is.
Taking a moment, I study his gray hair and bright, green eyes. They look so much like mine. For me, it’s scary to believe we’re related. Unlike my sister, I have his eyes. Surely, he’d rather see them in my sibling than me.
Shut up, Willow, you sound petty.
“What can I do for you?”
He takes off his reading glasses, setting them on top of the table. Though he doesn’t smoke, his office smells faintly of tobacco and coffee. It’s the potpourri Hazel bought for him. She says it gives him character. Which is something I have a hard time understanding. Their relationship, or why she thinks our grandfather needs some kind of scent. For me, it’s better not to have a defined smell for every person I meet or place I live. Some memories hit harder when they’re brought back with an aroma of a person. It’s painful and jarring.
“HR is asking about your status with the company.”
“Temporary, I have an audition on Friday,” I say to indicate he doesn’t have to worry about me. “In case you’re wondering, I’ll move out of your apartment as soon as the first check clears.”
“Willow,” he begins, folding his arms, his green eyes staring right at me. “I understand you and I have had our differences in the past.”
“You hate me.” I stand up straight, covering the crumbling woman inside of me. Today, I won’t allow him to push me to the ground. This is my positive wave, it has to last at least until after my audition. Also, I have to remind myself this is important for Hazel. I promised my sister I’d behave while working here. She’s the only person who understands me, and I have to do everything in my power to keep her happy. “Is there anything else you’d like to discuss?”
His nostrils flare, standing up from his throne, he marches toward me, walking around me to shut the door.
“You are an adult. I expect you to listen like one.” He shows me the leather couch, indicating I should sit.
He takes a seat on the wooden table. Very unlike my grandfather. We’re only inches apart, and I feel trapped. I’m about to be chastised for not being what he expects from someone who carries his last name.
“I’m not the scoundrel of a man your mother has made me out to be,” he starts, his eyes soft, unlike his voice.
“You describe her as an undeserving woman.”
Shaking his head, he rests his elbows on top of his thighs. “Look, your parents need to have a conversation with the two of you and clear what really happened between us.”
“What do you mean?” I lean back, my eyes widening. “She always says you don’t like her. You reject her and her life.”
His brows rise, those eyes searching for something. I want to hide, just like I want to show him that he means nothing to me. “My relationship with them is independent of the one I’ve tried to build with you for years.” His voice sounds shaky, his posture doesn’t change.
“We don’t have a relationship,” I remind him of the obvious. Those hurt eyes and small gasp are the second surprise of the conversation.
I catch my lower lip between my teeth, looking toward the open window. Watching the sun go down and begging for it to take me down with it.
“You are too proud, Willow.” The corners of his lips stretch slightly into an almost smile that disappears. “That’s the one thing you shouldn’t have inherited from me.”
The next hours, or maybe seconds, pass with the two of us staring at each other. This uncomfortable silence is worse than the exchange of insults we’ve had throughout the years. What’s next? I’m at an impasse, tongue tied, and ready to bolt. What if I move into Hunter’s to avoid my family?
Earth to Willow, you can’t just pack your shit, and move in with a guy you barely know. What the hell is wrong with you?
I look at my grandfather. He is what’s wrong with me today. The one suffocating my flame and sending me to the darkness.
“My point is that I want you to stay in the apartment for as long as you need to stay. I have plenty of room,” he says. “HR just got cleared to give you benefits. Even if you quit, you’ll keep them. Our medical insurance is top-notch.”
“Benefits?” I struggle to hide the wide-eyed disbelief. Recalling that nothing comes for free in Grant’s world, I get to the point. “What do you want in exchange?” My voice comes off, almost cruel. I guess we have more things in common than I thought.
He clears his throat before standing up from his seat. “I’m not the bad guy here.”
“Then who is?” I demand he explain, standing up so I’m not at his mercy. “Am I? Are you blaming my mother?”
“Life. Circumstances.” I give him a don’t bullshit me look. “Blaming them isn’t going to help my case. We all handled the situation poorly. I wish you’d give me a chance the way Hazel has.”
“She only came to you because you gave her no choice.” I pulled the knife out of my pocket and stabbed him deeply. “You had the money to pay her tuition at any school. Instead, you made her come to you. She could be happy in San Francisco. Like with my parents, you decided her future.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you gave more money to Dad, he’d come to us more often,” I state the obvious, closing my case.
He ruined our lives since we were little. If Hazel had stayed in California, she’d still be with Elliot—maybe.
“Willow, listen to yourself. It’s not my responsibility to support your parents. You think I’m the one who keeps your parents away from you?” His shoulders slump. He deflates and changes from the most powerful man I’ve ever seen in my life and morphs into a regular, broken person. “That’s not the case, Willow. My only regret was not fighting them when you were younger. I wish I had fought, so instead of being with the neighbors for months at a time, you’d have been with me while they were gone.”
I blink twice, how does he know where we were?
“It isn’t in your nature to put the past aside,” he implies—the words leaving a bad taste in my mouth. “We can carry it together while you let me take care of you, like any other grandfather would do for the grandchildren he loves.”
A knock on the door brings my mind back to the present, away from the memories of my parents leaving us behind—the days when I had no idea why they had to leave us alone with strangers. My bed only a house away from me, yet, I slept uncomfortably on a couch with my sister in a house filled with too many children and too little personal space. Would it have been different if I had come to my grandfather’s house instead?
He’s always lived in the penthouse on Park Avenue. All the rooms are spacious and empty.
“Ready to go, Low?”
My spine stiffens at the sound of that nickname. The same nickname my ex-boyfriend, the cheater—who liked going from vagina to vagina without thinking about me—used to call me.
“The name is Willow.” I turn to Hunter, shaking my head and the questions bombarding my brain.
“She doesn’t like that nickname,” my grandfather prompts, and I nod because it’s true, only Hazel is allowed to call me Wills. I turn to look at Grandpa one more time. This entire conversation has been bizarre, surprising, and has me shaking with rage. I can’t crash now. I need a few more days to feel alive. At least until after my audition.
“My apologies, Willow.” I turn my head, catching the big smile that barely disappears from Hunter’s handsome face. “Shall we go?”
“Only old people use shall, young man,” Grandpa jokes, and I gape. His attitude is freaking me out in so many ways I can’t handle it. “Will you be going to the event on Saturday, Hunter?”
Hunter nods, taking my hand, kissing it, and then entwining his fingers with mine. “Of course, will we see you there?”
I feel lost, not understanding what event they are talking about. This emotion of being pushed aside is intensifying my rage. Don’t get upset, Willow.
“Maybe,” my grandfather answers. “Willow, don’t forget what I told you.”
I won’t, but I pray I do. He seems as sad as I am sometimes, lonely and devastated. Why have I never noticed before? Am I shallow or too selfish to think about him? My mother’s rants are a big factor, too.
Any another time, I’d left without a second thought. Knowing life isn’t as easy for him as I thought, I march to him and squeeze his hand. “Thank you for the benefits.”