I WAS BOUNCING ANDY on my hip, his giggles in my ear, as I cooked scrambled eggs. I was leaning in a way so my son was in no danger of getting burned, but I tried to move as fast as I could.
Every time I’d put Andy in his high chair, he’d started crying. And it wasn’t the fact that his screams were ear-piercing that made me instantly go to his side. I hated when my son was sad. I knew I’d have to watch myself because I didn’t want him spoiled, but I needed him to know he was loved.
Grayson was still sleeping after his night shift. When I’d woken up this morning, I’d kissed him softly on the cheek before crawling out of bed and checking on Andy.
I’d just turned down the stove when I heard the bedroom door open and decisive feet pad across the floor. My eyes moved to the clock. It read 8:27. A few seconds later, he rounded the corner.
“Hey handsome, are you—?” I froze. He looked horrible. I’d been around after a few of his night shifts, so I knew he always had bags under his eyes and looked down, but this was on another level. His hair looked like it’d been recently tugged at.
“Are you okay?” I asked, turning off the stove and moving toward him. I set Andy in his high chair, and he began wailing immediately. Cringing, I picked him up and started bouncing again. “I’m sorry, sweetie.” I gave him a quick kiss on the head.
“Grayson?” I asked slowly. “What’s wrong?”
He let out a breath and hung his head, running his hand along the back of his neck. “There was a shooting last night.”
“What?” I shrieked. “Where? Are you—?”
“I’m fine, I promise.” He put his hand on one of my shoulders and squeezed.
“But you—”
“Ellie,” he cut me off. His smile was both genuine and strained. “Breathe.”
I took a deep breath and placed my hand on top of his. “What happened?” I whispered.
He proceeded to tell me about the robbery, and even though he did his best to minimize the danger, even just the mention of flying bullets had me sweating.
“But I’m okay,” he repeated.
I nodded, trying to get my breathing under control. “What’s wrong then?” I asked, my gaze raking over him. “You look…shaken.”
Grayson blew out a breath that made me want to jump to conclusions again, but I tried to refrain. His brows dipped as he pondered what to say.
“Nothing,” he finally said.
I squinted; something about this still felt off.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked again, more slowly—my suspicion seeping in.
He smiled, and it was a little more genuine this time. “Positive.” I opened my mouth to say more when he continued. “What’s for breakfast?”
I dropped the subject, moving through the morning and the rest of the day like I wasn’t uneasy, like there wasn’t an unspoken tension between us. But the nagging feeling that something else was going on lingered in the back of my mind, refusing to give me peace.
It didn’t help that Grayson was still acting weird the next day, up until lunchtime when he sat down on the couch. I told myself the reason he put so much distance between us was because I had my knitting supplies out and he didn’t want to disturb them. Then he leveled me with a look that had my palms sweating.
“Where’s Andy?”
“In his room.”
“Can we talk?” he asked.
“Sure.” Swallowing back my nerves, I carefully set down the hat I was making and turned toward him.
“I didn’t tell you everything about the shooting two nights ago.”
“Okay…”
Grayson took a deep breath and rubbed his hand over the back of his head. “Your mother was there,” he said to the ground.
“My… is she okay?”
“Yes.” He lifted his head. “She was shot in the shoulder, though, so she’s in the hospital.”
My mind raced as I tried to figure out what to feel. Truthfully, I didn’t know. After that day in the grocery store, I’d accepted the fact that they were never going to want me. But she could have died; that changed the rules, didn’t it?
Grayson looked nervous. But I wasn’t angry—I could understand him not wanting to tell Damien and me. I imagined delivering that kind of news was always hard. Not to mention how it would feel to have to tell people you care about.
“Okay. We need to call Damien and…” I trailed off when Grayson paled.
My stomach dropped when I realized what that meant. I laughed, but it lacked humor. “You already told him.”
“Yes.” He swallowed. “I talked to him that night; well, it was more like morning at that point. I wanted to tell you, but—”
“But what?” I asked, standing and pacing to the other side of the room. He lifted himself off the couch too.
“Damien thought it’d be a good idea to go see them ourselves before we said anything. To see if anything had changed. It’s a nice sentiment, to believe she’d be so traumatized by being shot that it changed her life. She’d see things clearly and realize how much she loves you. But that’s not how life works, Ellie. We wanted to make sure.”
“And?” My arms were shaking as I crossed them over my chest.
“We saw her yesterday morning. She’s the same. She doesn’t—”
“Stop.” Lowering my head, I bit my lip.
“I know it hurts, that’s why we—” Grayson started.
“Hurts?” I bit out, stepping back when he came closer. “I’m pissed.” I tried to stay calm when I spoke again. “You should have told me. You should have trusted that I was strong enough to handle it. Wasn’t that what you’ve been helping me do for months—get stronger?”
“Yes. Damien just—”
He looked frustrated as I continued to cut him off. “My brother doesn’t know everything.”
“I know that. That’s why I’m telling you now.”
“Why not tell me first? You went to him over me. You trusted him, but not me?”
“No, I—”
“I’m not done.” I finally raised my voice. “Months ago I let my mother’s words affect me, I let myself believe them, and I gave them life by doing so. I’m not doing that again. These past few months, I’ve grown to love myself in a way I hadn’t thought possible before. Am I one hundred percent over everything? No, of course not. But I was getting better, at least I thought I was, and you helped give me that. But you clearly don’t trust me…”
Grayson lifted his hands, slowly walking toward me. “No, that’s not—”
“Your actions contradict your words, and thinking you know what’s best for me, even if it comes from a place of love, is just like my parents telling me I’m incapable of taking care of myself or making smart decisions.” He froze as my words hit him. “You, and my brother, clearly don’t believe in my ability to change at all, just like them. But at least with my parents I knew what to expect.”
He flinched and stepped back like I’d slapped him. Truthfully, I couldn’t find it in me to worry about his feelings, considering he just tore apart mine.
I wasn’t sure why I was so angry. I knew he had good intentions and I rarely yelled at anyone, but I couldn’t let him think this was how I wanted our relationship to be. I wanted a partner, not a protector.
“Ellie—” he choked out.
“I’m leaving. I need air.”
Grayson looked resigned as he nodded. I quickly walked to the back of the house and packed Andy up. Then I lifted him from the crib where he’d been sleeping and carried him out.
Thank God I had the car today.
One lie, even by omission, was all it took to taint all the truths. Like a single drop of black ink in a bucket of white paint, it spread and polluted every particle it touched.
I drove straight home, ready to aim my anger on someone else.
When I walked through the front door I saw Naomi and Damien laughing on the couch. They both looked over, not expecting me home so early, and immediately jumped up.
“Ellie? What’s wrong?”
That came from Naomi—Damien must have realized by my face that I knew. His fiancée looked between us, sensing the tension.
“Okay, what the hell is going on?”
“Can you watch Andy?” I asked.
“You shouldn’t go. Think about what happened last time,” he gently tried to remind me.
“I’ve thought about it, and I’m going. Can you watch him?”
My brother let out a sigh of defeat before holding out his arms. I handed him the baby carrier and then turned to Naomi. She looked ready to smack both of us for making her wait.
“Can you come with me? I’ll explain in the car.”
“Sure.” Her eyes narrowed on her fiancé. “Am I going to be mad at you?”
“Probably.” Damien sighed and looked at me. “I am sorry, Ellie.”
“Noted.” I tried to sound frosty, but my anger was waning and I was starting to feel a little crazy for how mad I’d gotten. But how was I supposed to believe in myself if the people who loved me didn’t?
I’d spent my whole life as a chess piece for my parents. Even for Damien I became a piece—I loved him and I knew he loved me, would die for me, but I also saw how he looked at me. Broken. Damaged. A Rapunzel locked in her tower who needed saving at home, and a Snow White succumbing to poison when I was out in the world.
And then there were my “friends,” the drug addicts and other alcoholics who only cared about me when I could help them score.
I was right—I was a chess piece. And I could live with that. We all were in a way. But I was done being a pawn; I was going to be a queen.
“Thanks for coming with me,” I said to Naomi as we drove to the hospital. When I called they said my mom would be there for at least another thirty-six hours.
“No problem.” She smiled over at me before looking back at the road. “Okay, I’m not defending anything or anyone, but I’m just going to say this one thing about it…”
I let a small smile through; I’d finished telling her what happened five minutes ago, and I was surprised she’d made it that long without saying something.
“It’s a hard habit to break. Wanting to wholly protect the person you love, and they’re both the overly protective type. But it’s not because they don’t have faith in you. They just don’t want to see you hurt.”
“I know,” I breathed out. “I do know that. But they should have told me.”
“I agree.” Naomi patted my knee.
We pulled up to the hospital a few minutes later. I gripped the handle and took a deep breath before pushing the door open.
I can do this.
I can.
Naomi and I were standing in front of her room in no time.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
“There’s only one way to find out. Can you wait out here?”
She nodded, pointing over to some chairs across the hall. “I’ll be over there.”
With one final inhale, I pushed the door open and came face-to-face with the two people who were responsible for so much of my pain. I saw my father first, sitting on a chair by the window and reading the newspaper. His gaze lifted, most likely expecting a nurse or doctor, and his face blanched.
“Eleanor.” He seemed surprised—the most expressive look he’d ever given me—as he stood. I hated that name. He knew. She knew. Everyone knew.
Was it supposed to knock me off balance? It had in the past. But I was delighted to realize it didn’t anymore. What was once a giant bird swooping overhead was now just a gnat, easily shooed away. I didn’t even flinch at the use of my full name.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.
“Probably not,” I said as I stepped into the room. His eyes widened, expecting the meek girl I’d always been. “But I had to come.”
Then I looked to my mother. Being in a hospital bed should make everyone vulnerable, but her face was as hard as ever. And that more than made up for the hospital gown, lack of makeup, and less than polished hair.
It wasn’t that I’d believed she’d changed. Grayson was right—that kind of miracle was for movies—but how exhausting it must be to have to be perfect all the time.
I looked back at my father, who looked even more ashen than before, and it wasn’t until this moment that I realized I felt sorry for them. Maybe it was cliché to think that, but their pride would keep them from so much of this world’s beauty, their children and grandchild included.
Shaking my head, I said, “You two ignored me for most of my life, and I made some poor decisions in response to that.” My mother scoffed, but I kept on talking. “I’m not proud of them, but I’m not ashamed of those mistakes anymore. I’m not ashamed of myself anymore.”
“Eleanor—” my dad began, just as my mother said, “You should be.”
“And yet I’m not.” I looked straight at my mother and said, “You’re not a perfect woman. Most times, you’re not even a good woman. But you’re my mother, and I tried to love you despite it all.” I stood a bit taller. “Maybe I shouldn’t have. Damien certainly didn’t understand, and I don’t understand anymore either, to be honest. Especially now, when you’re in a hospital bed and you still can’t be a decent human being.
“You ‘cared’ enough to criticize my life, but you didn’t care enough to help me grow, to guide me and love me. Children should be loved, not just tolerated. And the fact that you couldn’t says more about you than me.”
“You’re being a tad dramatic, don’t you think?” my mother asked, but the way she said a tad sounded like extremely.
“You don’t get to make me feel insignificant through your complete disregard of me, and then cut me down with your words when you decide I’m worth your time, and then tell me how I should feel, how I should act.
“Dependency and fear were things that made a person weak. I thought that because of you.” I pointed a finger toward my parents. “But that’s not the truth. I had a long period of weakness, and I may still have moments of weakness, but I”—I emphasized with a finger toward my chest—“Am. Not. Weak.”
My mother opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off.
“No.”
My mother’s brows rose. “Eleanor—”
“I said no.” The strength in my voice sounded strange, out of place, but I forged on. Just because it was something new didn’t mean it didn’t belong.
“I don’t care what you have to say. I didn’t come here for you, I came for me. I talked to you in the store all those months ago because I was hoping you’d changed. Today I’m here because I have. I’m done trying to be anything to the two of you.”
They seemed stunned into silence, but I didn’t stick around any longer to see where it would lead. I didn’t care.
Turning around with my head held high, I walked out, past Naomi, heading straight for the elevator.
I’d spent my life waiting. Waiting for friendship. Waiting for love. Waiting for peace and absolution. Waiting for someone else to give them to me.
My closure didn’t lie with her. With either of them. It didn’t lie with Damien or Grayson either. I didn’t need others to convince me of my worth. It was mine to find, mine to take, and I was close.
I couldn’t sleep. I hadn’t been able to do anything since Ellie left this afternoon, so I was grateful I had the entire day off.
After Damien and I saw their parents yesterday morning, I’d been struggling. Damien had been right, not that I thought he’d be wrong. They were still awful and her mother still made me want to throttle someone. Damien seemed to share my feelings—he looked like he wanted to grab his mother and shake the malice out of her.
He eventually walked out without saying a word. I turned to leave when their father’s voice stopped me.
“It’s hard to love an addict.”
“What was your excuse before that? Ellie wasn’t born an addict. You just never loved her.” Those words hurt and were hard to say; but the next ones came effortlessly. “Loving your daughter is the easiest thing in the world. Asking me not to love Ellie is like asking me to quit breathing, or to stop my heart from beating. It’s not just difficult, it’s impossible.”
And with that, I followed Damien’s footsteps out.
When I’d first met Damien I could tell he was overprotective, and once he told me some things about their parents, I understood even more. I flashed back to the words I said to him a year ago…
You may not be verbally abusive like your parents were, but treating her like a porcelain doll isn’t helping her either. You’re just reconfirming her fears that she can’t take care of herself. She internalizes everything you say and do, even if she doesn’t realize it. Even though you and I, and probably even she, know that your concern is coming from a place of love and support, she also hears it as her not being enough, her not being able to handle it.
I was more like him than I’d realized. It had been easy to say at the time, easier to live by too. But the closer you got to a person, the more you desired to protect them. I’d been so removed from that feeling that I forgot how easy it was to be pulled back.
And I became the very person I’d warned him about.
Ellie had come so far from then, but her parents were her weak spot. What would it have meant to have that tested again?
Nothing good, my brain had thought. But had it been the truth? Or was it simply my fear talking?
But what did it say if we repeatedly shielded her from things that might hurt?
As it often did, my mind drifted to Taylor. But this time it didn’t hurt as much. I carried around a lot of guilt for what I did, or more precisely didn’t do. I’d always thought I’d failed in saving her, but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was my denial of the truth. I ignored the signs because it hurt too much to see them. I figured, over time, she would pull herself out of it. And maybe I never could have saved her, but maybe if she’d known how deeply her pain had affected me, if she knew how much of her grief I noticed, if I showed her she wasn’t as alone as she felt, she would have fought harder to save herself.
I was sitting on my bed and my eyes moved to my nightstand, where the picture of us and her leather notebook sat. And her letter…
The letter I’d refused to read.
With shaky hands I opened the drawer and moved the other two until I found it. My name was written in neat cursive, and with one deep breath I quickly flipped it open and broke the seal before I could think about it anymore.
Grayson,
I’m sorry. I know that’s about the lamest thing I could say right now. But it’s true, and I am. I never wanted to hurt you or my parents. If I could make it to where I could silently slip into nonexistence, I would. I’d make it easier and just erase myself from your lives, like I’d never been there. But I can’t, and I don’t know how to make this pain go away without hurting you as well. I tried… I tried for so long to stay. But I can’t keep pretending, and wearing this mask hurts as much as taking it off would. I’m tired. I don’t necessarily want to die, but I also don’t know how to live. A person can’t live this way, and there’s no cure for it. There are bad days, and days that aren’t so bad. But lately, the bad days are stacking up.
I asked you what you thought death would be like… do you remember what you said? You said you never thought about it, and that’s probably the way it should be. But all I’ve done lately is think about it, and what I think is that it’s peaceful. You saw more than anyone else ever did, so I know you understand… maybe not what I’m doing, but why I feel the need to do it. You know why I have to stop trying, don’t you? This hurts too much. To try to be a part of a world that’s constantly shoving you out. That’s constantly making fun of you…
Have you ever tried smiling when it feels like there’s a boulder pressing down on your chest? Or laughing with a lump in your throat? That’s all I’ve been doing for months. We always said we didn’t want other friends, but I did. I love you, Grayson, and I don’t say this because you weren’t enough, but I wanted girlfriends. I wanted to have sleepovers and have my nails painted by someone who wasn’t my mom. I wanted to gossip about boys and complain about homework. I desperately wanted something I’d never have. So if you’re wondering what you could’ve done differently, the answer is nothing. Just like if my parents are wondering what they could’ve done differently, the answer is nothing.
I don’t know where I’d be if you hadn’t said hello to me that day in the hall. But I think I might’ve given up sooner. I worry most about how this will affect you. I don’t want it to, but I know how stupid that is to say. Of course it will. I just hope it’s (eventually) for the positive. There’s too much good in you to go to waste. The world needs more people like you.
With Love,
Taylor
P.S. You still are, and will always be, my hero…