Chapter 31
Jess
“My apologies sir, we thought this room was vacant. There was no 'do not disturb' sign on the door so we just assumed...” Carla stuttered embarrassedly. Apparently, the guest to the presidential suite was still occupying it. Would have been nice to have a head’s up. This was going to upset our whole schedule for the morning if we needed to come back to clean up this place.
“No please don’t apologize. I was hoping I could have just a couple of minutes to talk to one of your colleagues if you don’t mind?” I didn’t even have to see his face to know he was giving Carla his all American pearly white smile. The one that made even the smartest girls agree to anything. I pushed the cart into the room and came face to face with that same smile, and even I wasn’t immune.
“Good morning Jessica.”
“Quaid. Penthouse no longer enough for you? Need to switch things up and slum it up here?”
“You know each other?” Carla asks still gawking at Quaid. He’s only wearing a white T-shirt and low cut jeans looking like the Adonis he is. God was very generous the day he came up with Quaid. Either generous with him, or cruel to us mere mortals. The jury was out on that one where I was concerned. Quaid stepped closer to Carla and held out his hand, ever the gentleman.
“I’m sorry, we haven’t been introduced. I’m Quaid. Jess’s boyfriend. You must be Carla.” Carla’s eyes go wide as she shakes Quaid’s hand, but I’m too pissed at his introduction to tell her to chill right now.
“Ex. Ex-boyfriend. We broke up, as you recall.”
“I recall a break, not a breakup.”
“Yes well, we both know how you only recollect some of the story and not all of it. Unfortunately, it’s your biggest flaw. It’s no wonder our break up should suffer the same predicament. You only recount what suits you best.” He grits his teeth, and I see I hit a nerve. It should give me some sort of satisfaction, but it doesn’t. Pushing Quaid’s buttons does nothing for me, but only adds to how hollow I’ll feel later on when I’m in bed alone missing him.
Carla starts to shift her feet from left to right, and I see the tension in the room is making her uncomfortable. It’s not her fault that Quaid decided to spring this on me at my workplace. He should know better.
“Well when you do check out, please advise reception so we can come back up. Have a nice day, Quaid.” I say and turn to leave, my hand already on the cart and a startled Carla trying to keep up with my hasty exit.
“Wait, wait!”
“What?” I ask exasperated.
“Okay, now hear me out. This wasn’t the only room I booked.”
“Huh? You lost me, Quaid? What are you talking about?”
“You know the saying desperate times call for desperate measures? Well, you not answering my calls, texts or even having coffee with me, kind of made me fall in the desperate category. So I called your manager, asked which floors you were on duty for this weekend and booked them all. I have to say I was pretty proud when she told me she upped you to the presidential suite. Everyone here must be pleased with you.” There was actual pride in his voice and a gleam in his eye that once shone so brightly for me that I hardly needed the sun to warm me as long as I had that looking down on me every day. Maybe to someone else, the job I was doing to make my way through college would be swept under the rug and not talked about. Especially in Quaid’s world where women would be more familiar with the high-end fashion terms and not what were the best products to rid mildew from toilet bowls. Yet, here stood a boy who grew up surrounded by all that and he was proud of me for proving to everyone how I could be professional and capable of anything I put my mind to.
“Sorry I don’t mean to interrupt, but did you say you booked all the floors Jess was supposed to work on this weekend? All three floors?” Carla asks stunned. Quaid just nods not taking his eyes off of me for one second.
“And no one is there? No one is actually messing the rooms up?” With yet another all-knowing grin, Quaid nods again.
“And our manager knows this, yet she booked us both to these floors anyway?” Carla goes on. She’s still putting two and two together, and it feels like an eternity until she gets it.
“Does this mean we’re off-duty this weekend?” Carla asks, wanting to make sure that she came up with the right conclusion.
“Sure looks that way,” Quaid grins.
“You know, being our boss and all, you could have just given us the two paid days off. It would have costs much less than three full booked floors of empty rooms.”
“But if you had the days off, then my problem would remain the same. This way, you needed to come to work, and now we're here talking, aren’t we?”
“Still, not very savvy for a businessman to lose that chunk of change just for a ten-minute talk,” I tell him, making sure he understands ten minutes is all I’m willing to give him for this little stunt he pulled to get my attention.
“Well, I’m not a businessman and never intended to be, so I think whatever the cost for whatever the time you give me is more than worth it.”
“Okay, well nice to meet you. Jess, can you help me with the cart to the elevator? I promise she’ll be back in just a sec?” Carla says already pulling my arm to the hallway. When we finally get to the elevator far enough from the door of the presidential suite, Carla grabs my hand.
“Oh girl, you are in so much trouble. Chica, that one is a smooth talker, and from the five minutes I was in the room with him I can tell he’s got you all twisted up inside.”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” I say pulling up my big girl pants and playing it off as if Quaid doesn’t affect me.
“You sure about that? Because it didn’t seem like you got it under control. And the boy in there sure doesn’t if he’s forking up over 100k just to talk to you?”
“A hundred thousand dollars?!”
“And that’s just for one day at least. I’m sure he’s not paying full price, but still, it’s around those figures if not more.”
“Jesus Carla, didn’t you ever hear that ignorance is bliss?”
“Yeah, well, sorry to burst your bubble Chica, but in the real world when a man pays that amount he wants something more than talk. I don’t feel good about leaving you here alone, that’s all.” Now I understand why she wanted to get me away from Quaid to talk. On this, I could set her at ease.
“Carla, you ever read fairy tale stories to your baby girls? You know the ones about those dashing princes that always save the day, no matter how bad the villain, or situation?” Carla’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“That boy, that man in there, is the reason why your baby girls can continue in believing in these fairy tales. Because men like Quaid do exist. A man who would fight for the honor and innocence of all that is good in the world. Quaid has many faults, but as long as I am with him, I am always safe. He would die before he laid a hand on me in malice. He doesn’t have it in him to harm for harm’s sake. Only to protect. I have very few certainties in this world, but aside from my father, Quaid is the best man I know.”
“I don’t understand, hun. If he is all you say and you love him as you do then why the Ex?”
“Because even knights in shining armor have secrets. And I never said I loved him.”
“You didn’t have to.” Carla grins giving one of my hands a light squeeze.
“I should get back and get this over with.”
“Is that really what you want? To get it over with? Is your head fighting with your heart? Because if it is, don’t listen to either. While both are at war, you won’t be able to hear your soul speak up what your destiny truly is.”
“It no longer matters. I’ve made my choice. Now go! Go to your babies and enjoy your weekend.” Carla gives me a side hug, and we push the cart into the service elevator.
Once the elevator door close, I shut my eyes and count to ten. Breathing in and out. Concentrating on each breath. These past weeks have been the most excruciating time of my life. They were my introduction to true pain. I had never really felt it in the flesh. I had felt others people’s pain and could empathize with it. Embraced and supported it. Tried to lessen the burden wherever I could. But to live through it? To live without the one person who once filled your heart with so much love? To be separated from the person that filled you up inside with so much joy you were sure you would combust with it? I could never fathom such pain could even exist. And now the source of my happiness and misery awaited me in the very room I was walking into willingly. Was I being brave or just a glutton for punishment? Was I trying to prove to myself I could face the pain and live on, or that the hurt had somehow lessened by time and distance?
Most importantly, what did he want from me? Didn’t he already take enough? My heart, my mind! Because both were filled with him constantly and now so was my sight. Quaid stood straight looking out beside one of the floor to ceiling windows, but as soon as he heard me close the door behind me, he turned my way. Yes, my sight was also his and it yearned to memorize every curve of his locked jaw. Long neck attached to strong, broad shoulders. Arms that went on for days, thick and strong, ending with hands that had given me sweet tender moments. Yes, my eyes had missed him too, since I had forced them to always look the other way and hide whenever he was in the same vicinity as me.
Except for that one relapse when they searched him out in the cafeteria. One hell of a relapse. That afternoon Grant came out, loud and clear on how he loved my friend and he wouldn’t turn his back on him for anyone. Not his family, not his reputation, not even his well-endowed inheritance. He wanted to live and love how he saw fit and to be put in a box by the people that were supposed to accept him in the first place was just not something he could tolerate any longer. So he took the plunge and fought for what he wanted and what he wanted was Drew. I was so happy and emotional for Drew that by instinct my eyes went straight to Quaid to share the moment with him. Because moments weren’t moments if they weren’t shared with him. Coming to the realization that my moments were no longer his moments and that I would never get to share my biggest moments with the one person I would need to share them with, was heart-breaking. My eyes started to water right there in the cafeteria; air started to feel too stale to breathe in at this realization. So when Quaid mouthed 'I love you' to me, I just lost it. I lost it completely and ran all the way home a total wreck. I am not a crier. I have never been a crier, yet I have cried more tears these past couple of days to fill the Sahara. Another certainty.
“Ten minutes, Quaid.”
“Why all this hostility Jess?”
“Is this how you want to spend your ten minutes? 'Quid pro quo Clarice' and all that?”
“It’s a start. So why, Jess? Why the hostility?”
“Will you promise to answer all my questions honestly, Quaid? I mean it. If you want your ten minutes, you need to be honest. Otherwise, I’m out the door and you’ve burned an obscene amount of cash for nothing.”
“I promise. Now you’re on my time and as you keep reminding me I only have ten minutes, so answer me, why the hostility? Remember now; this honesty thing has to go both ways.
“It’s safer this way.”
“Safer?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t feel safe with me?” Quaid asks and pulls out a chair to sit down. His fingers run frantically through his hair, a sign I know well. What I’ve said not only confused him but hurt him too. In another life I would already be by his side soothing him, telling him not to listen to me. That he is my safe haven. My lighthouse, showing me the way home. He is my safety and that is the paradox of it all. Because if I let my barrier slide, if I show one moment of weakness, I know that my heart is not safe.
“You asked your question. Now you answer one of mine. Why didn’t you tell me in all the time we were dating, that you own the DiStefano ?”
“Because I don’t. My grandparents do.”
“Semantics. You’ll inherit this along with I don’t even want to know what, yet you didn’t seem to think I should know about it. Why?”
“What do you mean why? I told you it belongs to my grandparents and whatever their estate or their affairs are, they have little do with me.”
“You would think that, wouldn’t you? But it’s a part of who you are, and you didn’t share it with me. You kept this and a whole bunch of other things from me.”
Quaid stands up from his chair and walks to the center of the room with his palms placed over his eyes and I see he’s trying to gain back control of the conversation. It’s not going the way he intended. Well, whose fault is that?
“Did you think I would look at you differently?” I ask and he shakes his head in response.
“Did you think I was a gold digger and would only see you as an easy meal ticket for a twelve-carat life?” He at least had the decency to scoff at that remark.
“Were you ashamed of me?”
“Never.”
“Then what?”
“Because once I started to tell you about my family, something I said or did might have peaked your curiosity to other venues that I wasn’t ready to tackle.”
“You mean Olivia?” I scowl bitterly.
“Yes,” he grunts. I start to ask my next question when he holds his index fingers to his lips.
“Jessica, you said quid pro quo, but so far I’m the only one facing the firing squad. I’ll answer all your questions, honestly and truthfully, but I need you to at least answer some of my own. Please.”
“Fine,” I say pulling my chair out since it seems it’s my turn to be interrogated.
“Have you been practicing?” Out of anything he could have asked this is his first concern.
“You mean the defense classes?” I ask having a total Carla moment, too blown away by Quaid’s question. He nods and sits in the center of the bed; arms stretched over his legs, hands clasped together under his chin.
“Yes. Izzy and I have enrolled in a Jiu Jitsu Self Defense class close to the school. We try to go for a lesson once a day at least, if only for an hour.” That small sliver of pride shows up yet again in his eyes, but it’s the state of relief that seems to lift from his shoulders that gets me this time. I could also tell him how I now carry a Swiss knife, a rape whistle, and mace in my purse at all times, but that would probably put all that tension back on his shoulders. Just thinking about why I thought I would need to purchase those things in the first place would set his imagination off to darker pastures.
“That’s good,” he says and apart from his first question, he now seems tongue-tied to ask another.
“I know work is going well, but what about school? And your activist group? Is it all working okay?” Quaid asks and this time his question comes out almost shyly. Like how a boy in junior high would talk to a girl he was crushing on. Damn it all to hell, but how am I supposed to keep up my hostile demeanor when he’s giving me all this bashful goodness?
Merda!
“School’s good. The group too.”
That’s it, Jess. Cut and dry. Stay strong! Stay Strong!
“You done? Because I have a question that is itching to get out.”
That’s it, girl! Bring the fury back to this game.
“Just a couple more and I promise you can have at me.” I feel myself deflate as I slide lower down the chair. I wave my hand at him, indicating for him to proceed with whatever other nonsense he considers as interrogation techniques. If he even thinks I’m going to be this easy on him, he’s gotta another thing coming to him.
“You told Carla very clearly we’re officially over. Were you ever going to tell me or was I going to have to find out in a more unpleasant way?”
Merda. So now he’s going for the kill!
“I thought me not answering your calls and refusing to see you was confirmation enough our relationship was over. I didn’t think it called for an actual sit down.”
“You didn’t think the end of our relationship was worth at least a discussion or you were too much of a coward to have it with me?” Even though the words he said were mean and aggressive, the tone in which he delivered them was too hurt for me to be even pissed about it. Mostly because he nailed it on the head.
“For the sake of honesty in this exercise we’re doing, I’m going to have to say yes to both. Yes, the end of our relationship deserved a proper discussion about it and yes, I was too chicken shit to have it with you. Happy?”
“No, Jess. None of this makes me happy. You just told me you chose to live without me. So I am far from fucking happy right now.” Quaid places his open palms over his eyes while grabbing his hair to the front of his face and I know my sweet-controlled boy is one second away from losing all decorum.
“Is there someone else?” he grunts and this is the only question he’s asked me so far that pisses me off. How dare he even think that?!
I get up from my seat and start pacing the floor back and forth, trying to calm myself not to run at him and take that ugly question from out of his mouth and make him swallow back each poor excuse of a word.
“Don’t you fucking even go there with me, Quaid! Don’t be a cliché and don’t you dare make me out to be one either!”
“I’m sorry. Shit! This is all going wrong. This is not why I wanted to see you. Or at least not how I planned this would play out. Shit!” Quaid is also up from the bed, pacing back and forth and if there are cameras secretly installed in this room then I’m sure we’re giving someone a great show. Both acting off our rockers. Quaid takes two steps towards me, and instinctively I take two steps back.
“We’re not done, Jess. Not even remotely. I came here with the intention of doing something and damn it, woman, I’m going to do it. So grab a chair and sit that pretty ass down, because this might take a while.” Bashful Quaid has left the building and in his place, is his caveman alter ego. Still, I do exactly as he asks, and place my chair in the middle of the room, while he places another right in front of me, but with the back of the chair facing me instead.
“Okay, it’s your nickel and time’s a ticking. Tick tock, Quaid.”
“Oh just give it a rest with the bratty attitude and give me a sec.”
This is our default setting with each other. Always has been. I act like an unruly child, while he acts all almighty. We pick and scab at each other, yet before, this usually led to really fun foreplay. Now, it’s only leaving a bitter taste in my mouth, drying up all the distasteful words I would have spat out a couple of months ago. Quaid sits on the chair facing me, placing his arms on the headrest of the chair, and locking his eyes intently on mine.
“The rules still apply. Honesty above everything.”
“Agreed. So why was it so important to see me?”
“Aside from the fact I’m going crazy without you?” I shut my eyes hard at this exasperated remark. I did agree to honesty, didn’t I? So I can’t be squeamish if the truth he gives me is uncomfortable to hear, now can I?
“Yes, aside from that.”
“I think you left me for all the wrong reasons and if you’re going to leave me, then I need valid ones instead.”
“Really? Is this why you did all this today? You want to make sure we’re breaking up for the right reasons and not the wrong ones, is that what you’re telling me?”
“Yes, in a way. But we’re not breaking up,” he smirks pleased with the resuming of his plan.
“No Quaid, I’m pretty sure I just told you we are. I mean, did, in fact, break up.”
“Not after I show you all the reasons you have for this so-called break up to be ludicrous, and therefore turning your decision into leaving me a moot point. Uncalled for, if you will.”
“You’ve been watching too many Suits episodes on Netflix, haven’t you?” I can’t help the grin that escapes me imagining Quaid binge-watching one of my favorite shows even though he no longer needs to indulge me. “I knew you liked that show!”
“What can I say? Harvey’s the man!” he teases me and sweeps an errant strand of hair that must have come loose from my bun, behind my ear. It’s the first time Quaid has touched me since he left me in the middle of my parents’ living room and there is no denying the electricity in the room has upped its dose tenfold with one simple, innocent act.
“Don’t,” I whisper showing the first signs of vulnerability since I entered this match. Quaid pinches his eyes, closing them shut. Trying to keep away the hurt my rebuttal brought on.
“Just say what you need to say. No more questions, Quaid. Just tell me what I want to know.”
“I don’t even know where to start.”
“From the beginning. Start there.” He nods and cleans his damp hands over his jean covered thighs and stands up.
“Sure, why not?” Quaid says pacing yet again. He takes a minute looking out the window, watching the sun slowly waking up the city. His posture looks as if he’s going through something in his head, checking each option one by one until a decision is made. When Quaid comes back to his seat facing me eye to eye, there is no hesitant smile. Only resolve. Whatever his confession, I know just by the way he’s staring at me, I’m going to get the God’s honest truth.
“My father didn’t have the most pleasant of childhoods. As you’ve been able to attest, my grandparents were never the nurturing kind. All the money in the world couldn’t make up for the fact he had little affection and even less praise. He never got any attention in that house and although he had two older siblings, he was still left to his own devices. The age difference was too great and my father was considered an unwanted mistake. Something my grandparents were very vocal in pronouncing anytime he did anything that didn’t live up to their standards. He attended boarding school after boarding school. Getting kicked out of two or three a year, as he figured that negative attention was at least some form of attention.”
“Unfortunately, it just wasn’t enough. He had his first depression at the age of twelve, something that embarrassed my grandparents to no end. The only thing that brought him any joy was sailing. ‘The Boat Room’ as you named it, was his room. Where he spent most of his days when he did live in that house, locked up in it, building model boats inside clear crystal bottles as a way to pass the days that must have been grey filled with grey. Like me, he wasn’t much of a talker and as the years passed he only talked if it would guarantee he would find some form of trouble. That’s when my mother came into the picture. He was seventeen and she was barely sixteen. She had just moved to New York on a modeling contract. Supposedly to be the next big thing to grace the cover of all those high-end magazines my grandmother loves so much. One look at my father though and she knew the real prize would be landing him, not Vogue. At first, her presence seemed to do him some good. He went out more, participated in all the social events my grandmother so lovingly adores to sponsor. But if my grandparents’ world was cruel and vicious, then I guess my mother’s world was just as hollow. Only here it offered some vices that could make my father forget what a crappy life he had.” Quaid takes in a breath and I’m spellbound by all he’s revealing to me. I’m frozen in place too shocked to say a word or encourage him to continue.
“An addict’s life never has a happy ending, Jess. Add the fact that my father was already mentally unstable and you get the picture. He killed himself inside one of my grandfather’s precious yachts. He left no letter, no recording, nothing. He probably thought this world was better off without any vestige of him in it. The only thing he didn’t account for was that my mother was already pregnant with me. A sixteen-year-old unwed, fame-seeking addict now carried his child and he left this world clueless to it.”
“Olivia,” I whisper, realization hitting me square in the face about how blind I had been.
“You have her eyes,” I hush. It was right there in front of me, the resemblance and I missed it. He looked so much like his father, or maybe I should say uncle, that I didn’t even pick up how there were no resemblances to Taylor at all. But with Olivia’s dark beauty, Quaid fit the bill perfectly.
“My eyes and giving birth to me was the only thing Olivia is responsible for, trust me. Once she made my grandparents aware she was pregnant, Olivia thought she would have it all. She didn’t account for my grandmother’s frugality though. Even after a paternity test confirmed I was their youngest son’s child, grandmother dearest, refused to give Olivia a dime, saying that my inheritance was my own and she wouldn’t see any of it. So Olivia being just as conniving, even as a teenager as my grandmother, she approached the two people she knew would give a shit about me.”
“Your parents,” I fill in the pregnant pause to his speech.
“Taylor can’t have kids of her own. She and Craig had been married for a couple of years and had been trying unsuccessfully to conceive. Knowledge that Olivia must have come by either from gossip alone or maybe by my biological father. However she got it, she took advantage of it, once Debora made it clear she was on her own. You’ve met my mom, Jess. Can you imagine what it must have been like for an actress like Olivia to knock on her door and ask for help? No way was Taylor going to turn her away. So as soon as Olivia gave birth to me, she handed me over to Taylor and Craig to raise as their own even though no legal paperwork was signed over, only guardianship. Olivia’s one stipulation was that they live in the city and raise me as a Stevens. It was probably Olivia’s way of making sure my grandparents were a constant in my life. I once thought this little request as odd, but now I see it was Olivia’s way of guaranteeing I could still be used as leverage later on in life as well as guaranteeing my inheritance. But you see my mother was already my mother before she legally became it. Taylor looked out for me in every way she could. My father was sick and tired of being under my grandparents’ thumb, yet he held fast for her. For me. So yes, while they were forced to stay close to my grandparents, they gave me everything a child really needs in both parents. Their unconditional love. I want to tell you that was the end of Olivia’s meddling in my life, but it wasn’t. By age five she ran into my mother and me and saw how much I adored her and Olivia’s ego couldn’t handle it. She demanded that I be made aware of whom she was and that she spend time with me as well. Said that a mother should get to know her son and vice versa and she was at a better place now to be there for me. My parents' begrudgingly accepted her terms with one stipulation of their own. Olivia needed to sign all the paperwork that changed from Taylor and Craig being my guardians and legalize them as my parents. It was only a few days ago that I found out my grandparents finally caved in and offered Olivia money for her to sign the paperwork. Any and all visitation that she had with me needed to be done at the penthouse, far from prying eyes. That’s when the real fun began,” Quaid scoffs running his fingers through his hair. I stretch my arm and place my hand over his, urging him to continue.
“Olivia is what you would call a state of the art addict. She is addicted to anything that can make her feel good. Be it money, men, alcohol or drugs; you name it. But what she craves more is undying attention. She hated how Taylor had replaced her so well in my heart. Mind you she never was there in the first place, but my curiosity of why this woman abandoned me was new and unsettling. I was too young to understand any of it but old enough to know she should love me just as much if not more than Taylor did. That lack of love does something to a child. It makes you crave the other person’s attention and acceptance, even if they are the scum of the earth. Olivia was never a saint, but the word love to her is as foreign to her as an alien language is to us. I was entertaining to her for the first day or so of our visits together but then she ultimately would get bored with me and find other means of entertainment. Here entered the parties with booze, drugs, and sex. All of it out in the open where a very impressionable child shouldn’t have to be confronted with it. Olivia played her part well though. In the presence of my mother and father, even my grandparents, she demonstrated to be an eager parent wanting nothing more than to spend time with me. Even when certain events happened that were traumatic for me, she was able to convince them to always give her another chance. Either she went to rehab several times to show she was getting help or sometimes she stooped to blatant coercion and emotional blackmail to get her visitations. The years passed and each time Taylor and Craig left me at the penthouse for one of Olivia’s bonding weeks, I grew more distant, quieter.”
“The cataclysmic event that brought the whole house of cards down was when Olivia left me alone in the house for a full week and decided getting a tan at some tropical island was preferable to spending time with her son. My grandparents were out of town and had given their staff the week off. In hindsight, they probably did that so there would be no witnesses to whatever Olivia would pull off next. On the fifth day, I had run out of food, so I called my father as a last resort. You see, I felt shame. Shame that I couldn’t get the woman that gave birth to me to love me as she should. Shame that I couldn’t take care of myself and needed others to look out for me. Shame that I couldn’t accept these little visitation rights of hers when by sacrificing a few days a month, I gained the best parents I could have ever wished for.”
Oh, Quaid.
“That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Apparently, my parents were more upset about me having to spend time with Olivia then they let on. I now know what happened, but when I was nine all I knew was that one day I was attending a private school in the city, living with my parents in a swanky loft in Brooklyn, and the next day, dad had formally resigned from his father’s company and moved us to our beach house in Plymouth. No more visits from Olivia, no more calls or texts or anything. She disappeared from my life and I was able to be what I always wanted to be. Just Taylor and Craig’s kid. Nothing else.”
“I found out this week my dad handed her almost every last cent he had to his name over to her. In exchange, Olivia couldn’t approach me until my eighteenth birthday. Dad thought by this age; I would be able to make my own decision in regards to wanting Olivia in my life or not. Signed and sealed contract in hand and my father never batted an eye at losing his fortune to keep me away from her and to finally live away from his parents grasp.”
“Why do you grandparents put up with her then? She seemed so chummy with your grandmother last time I saw her,” I ask still processing everything Quaid has divulged.
“Appearances, Jess. To my grandparents, appearances are everything. Olivia knew how my biological father had died. Something my grandparents swept under the rug as an accidental drug overdose brought on by his depression. I bet all they saw was their stocks and bonds in their company devalue should it be known the real reason. Also, no one knows I’m not Craig’s biological son. For all intents and purposes, Taylor is my mother. Not Olivia. The gossip magazines would love to get their hands on dirt like this, but Olivia has always been shrewd. She knew that going off to sell her story to any of those magazines would offer only one payday. Why risk that when she could milk her maternity for years to come?”
“Jesus,” I gasp.
“I need a minute.” I get up from my seat and walk to the ensuite bathroom. I splash some water on my face, hoping it’s enough to cool my rising temperature. Quaid’s whole tale is so beyond anything I could even conceive even with my healthy imagination. He was just a kid pulled into so many directions. His loyalties so screwed up. Not knowing who was the right mother to love and wanting the wrong one to love him back. To be a five-year-old boy and be told your mom isn’t your mom and your father has already perished is hard enough to fathom. All this time I thought Olivia held a part of his heart, but in reality, all she held was a young child’s yearning of wanting the person who brought him into this world to love him just as much as the woman raising him. Am I surprised that he held off telling me such a safeguarded secret from me? I doubt he has ever been able to tell his story to anyone before. Those types of scars are better off buried in the past where they belong. Yet, here he is. Giving me all of it. All the ugly, distorted truth in hopes I will understand why he never gave it to me in the first place. So why am I still standing here looking at my pale reflection instead of running into his arms?
Merda!
I know exactly why. Because none of what he’s told me changes the fact he wasn’t honest with me in the first place. He led me to believe Olivia was something she could never be. I understand his motives of omission but still leaving me in limbo was almost cruel, even if unintentional. It broke something in me and if I’m being honest with myself, even the truth didn’t set me free. I still feel chained to the hurt and mistrust. Knowing my mind hasn’t changed even after Quaid’s story is just the icy water I needed to cool my veins. I walk back into the room and find Quaid looking as forlorn as I left him. I take one quick breath and pray that God gives me the courage I need to see this through.
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that Quaid. If I wasn’t in awe of all you were able to accomplish, then by you telling me your story surely has made me so.”
“Jess, I don’t need your admiration right now. I need you, don’t you see? You’re the only person I have been brave enough to tell. I mean, you’re the only person I ever wanted to tell in the first place!”
“And I appreciate your honesty, Quaid. I really do. I appreciate that you finally came to me and told me the truth that was eating away at you, but don’t you see? Too much has passed for us to go back. I would always second guess your every word and you would end up resenting me for it. We’re too young to be dealing with shit like this. I mean, we should be arguing about which movie to pick on a Friday night, not on my ability to trust you.” And just with those measly words, I felt like Delilah cutting off Samson’s hair, because Quaid’s whole demeanor changed from entirely determined to utterly defeated.
“I’ve lost your trust,” he whispers back to himself more than to me. I don’t confirm my previous statement. It would feel like putting salt in an already too open wound. A wound I caused with my own jagged perverse knife. I knew the smart thing was to push Quaid away. That was the smart thing. So why was my heart bleeding out on the floor next to him? Why was my chest screaming for me to stop this madness? Every inch of my being wanted me to run to his arms and ask him to hold me and promise me that he would never let me go, no matter how much I pushed him to.
“Is that all I’ve lost, Jess?” Steel blue eyes frozen still lock on mine and I’m yet again a coward and turn my back to him, grabbing the back of a chair so my legs don’t fall from under me. I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to run. But most of all I don’t want to do what I need to do. What I must do to quit Quaid altogether. And that is; break our hearts one more time. Only this time, I can’t be weak. I need a clean cut. I’m sure the hemorrhaging will stop eventually. People don’t really die of a broken heart, do they? We’ll both recover eventually. All my logical stats and analyses of divorce rates, plus the percentage of unsuccessful college relationships, to whatever other crap I can come up with, gives me the conviction I need that I’m doing the right thing for both our sakes. Even if right at this minute it feels like my world is ending and I’m the one pushing the button of the nuclear bomb
I summon all my remaining courage and face Quaid one more time, and see my answer reflected back to me. It even sounds like a bad joke. How long does it take to mend a bleeding heart? In our case, a lifetime isn’t enough.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m no longer yours to concern about.” If I thought this would be the blow that would finally break us, I was sorely mistaken. Instead, the unexpected happens. A broken Quaid begins to laugh. It takes me so off guard that I just stand there looking at him, jaw wide open and perplexed beyond belief. Here I am, dying inside and he's laughing? Really?
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I yell at him. I’m so mad I have to hold myself in place not to take the extra three steps to be right in front of his face to give him a slap that can be heard on the other side of the world. I mean, c’mon? How dare he? Can’t he see it’s taking every cell in me not to fall apart in front of him and he has the audacity to laugh? To fucking laugh?
“I swear to God Quaid Stevens, if you continue to laugh like a fucking hyena for one more fucking second, I’m going to fucking kick you in the balls!”
“There! There she is! There’s my girl!” he spits out slowly recovering from, what I can only assume, is an episode of sorts.
“I’M NOT YOUR GIRL! I’M NOT YOUR ANYTHING! Haven’t you been paying attention! It’s done! It’s over!” I yell out and my whole body is either shaking from how mad I am or from the lies I’m spilling out. A now recovered Quaid takes those three safe steps that were keeping us protected from each other and grabs my face, pulling it up so that we are eye to eye.
“I want you to listen closely, Jessica, and for once in your life, I want you to pay attention. I know how all you hear is the sound of your own voice in that head of yours, but if any of my words ever register, let these be the ones. YOU ARE MINE.” Eyes of steel, freeze me in place while his words start to carve their way into my soul.
“And when I say you are mine I’m not saying that you are my property or a thing I bought or purchased. You are not an object or some trophy. When I say that you are mine, I mean that you are mine. You are my heart. My soul. My air and the lungs that I need to breathe it in. You are my dreams and my future. You are my present and my past. You are my will and my reason. You are my everything. So don’t tell me you’re not mine when everything that I am has your imprint on it.”
I don’t even know when I start to cry, but I realize I am when Quaid starts to clean away my tears with the softest caress his thumbs can provide. Reaching down, he pulls up my trembling hands in his and places mine flat on his heart, covered by his. He then leans in and our temples join and this small action feels so familiar, that even though my heart aches. it also belts out loud in my ear; home.
“You own me. If you’re not mine, then this thing that beats in my chest belongs to who, huh? Because it sure as fuck doesn’t belong to me, Jess.”
I’m a blubbering mess. Each word he utters feels like he’s reading my thoughts like scripture. Having Quaid so near only messes with my mind even more and I don’t know what side is up anymore. Again, I feel powerless to hold my ground and I fear if he says one more word, I’m done for. I shake his hands away from my face, and immediately I feel cold without them. It will always be like this, won’t it? His puzzled face lands another blow to my fragile resolve and before I know it, my feet have taken my choice away from me, reaching the door as fast as they’ll take me. I only have enough time to offer two words to him as my only explanation as to why I need to be anywhere else but in this room with him.
“I’m sorry.” And as I shut the door behind me, I am more repentant than he will ever know.
I’m so sorry.