All week I’d procrastinated. A lot of that time I’d spent questioning myself. Questioning my motives. Weighing my options. I was torn between wanting to beg off and back out and praying for Saturday to finally hurry and arrive.
After work today, I’d gone straight to my parents’, visited a little with my mom before I spent a couple of hours with Stewart in his room. Mainly we’d watched goofy videos on YouTube and joked around. I’d just needed to see him, needed a reminder of what was important, a reminder that all of these issues I thought I was having really weren’t issues at all.
Not when compared to what my brother was going through.
Standing here tonight, though, trying to find the courage to talk with Ben, to tell him where I was going tomorrow night, and asking him to be there with me, didn’t seem to come any easier than it had at any other time during the past week.
I pressed my hands into the cool granite of the kitchen counter, scolding myself for being such a coward. I loved Ben. I really did.
No, it wasn’t a passionate kind of love. But that was okay. I’d surrendered to the belief that some loves were better that way. The kind you didn’t fall into. The kind that came with time. The kind that one day were just there because you didn’t know anything else.
But what I hated was the fact that I’d allowed him to make me feel as if I needed to ask his permission to do the things I wanted to do. All of that was on me. I accepted it and I knew I was the one who had to change it. I’d gone into this relationship with such resignation, with such apathy, that I’d given little thought or care to the way I really felt or to what I really wanted.
I’d been too hurt, too overcome, too broken.
Mindlessly, I’d followed him. Let him sculpt me into who he wanted me to be, let him lord and rule, because after all, Ben knew best. At the time, I honestly didn’t mind. I’d willingly given up control because I’d felt like such a fool, as if maybe I couldn’t make my own decisions because they would only be faulty and dangerous.
Beyond that, my parents trusted him. They’d been so relieved that Christopher was out of my life that they’d had only encouragement for Ben, and found little concern in the fact that Ben was four years older than me. They’d wanted a real man there for their daughter, someone who grew up in their church, someone who’d been raised with their same beliefs.
They wanted me safe, and Ben had made me feel that way, because there was little threat of him breaking me.
But I was no longer that little girl he’d taken under his protective wing.
It was time I broke that mold and became an equal partner in our relationship. That pathetic period I’d slipped into, one where he constantly coddled and comforted me, had long since passed.
Drawing in a deep breath, I straightened, smoothed out my shirt, and walked toward the family room. I propped my shoulder up against the wall and looked down on where Ben sat on the couch, tapping away at his laptop.
Going for casual, I lightened my voice. “So you’ll never guess who I ran into at Target.”
I didn’t bother to mention I was talking about something that had happened two weeks earlier. Some things he just didn’t need to know.
He didn’t lift his head, just muttered a disinterested “Hmm?” as his focus remained fixed on his computer screen.
My heart skipped a panicked beat before I remembered my mission. I was breaking chains. Reclaiming me.
“Aly Moore. Well, not Moore anymore. She’s married and has a baby. Her name is Aly Holt now.”
Ben’s attention flew to me, his expression screwed up in disgust. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
Well, that got his attention.
“What did you just say?” he accused.
“I said her new name is Aleena Holt.”
Anger burned across his face. Jaw ticking, he ground his teeth. “Aleena Moore?” His words were cold and one hundred percent an insinuation.
A surge of defensiveness rose in me, pressing full, because he said her name as if it was dirty. There was nothing dirty about Aly. I was certain she was one of the nicest, most genuine people I’d ever met. Insolence lifted my chin, and I crossed my arms over my chest. “Yeah. Aleena Moore. Holt now.”
“You mean the sister of that bastard who took advantage of you? The asshole who manipulated you? Ripped you up and left you in a million broken pieces. His sister? That Moore? Is that who you’re talking about?” None of them were questions. It was all formed as one long accusation, as if I was completely ignorant. Incompetent. Clueless.
Just like he always wanted me to believe.
So, yeah, I’d been naive.
That didn’t mean I couldn’t make my own decisions now.
“Um, yeah, that Moore,” I said, my own anger oozing out.
God, he could be such a jerk.
“Well, I hope that interaction was short, because I don’t want you anywhere near a Moore… regardless of what her last name is now.” A disdainful huff bled from him and he turned back to his computer, banging at the keys as he spewed his own ignorance. “That girl must be just as clueless as you. Jared Holt wasn’t any better than that punk-ass kid who thought he was going to use you up. You’re lucky I was there to save you. Too bad she didn’t get out so easily.”
Tears pricked at my eyes, and I fisted my hands at my sides.
So easily?
Damn him. His assumptions pissed me off. Ben was the clueless one. I didn’t think I’d ever seen a happier couple than Jared and Aly. Besides, I’d just wanted to have one normal conversation with him. One mature conversation. One time when he would listen to me and not talk over me or down to me.
That seed of hatred I’d always harbored for him threatened to sprout, trembling somewhere in the fragmented place in my spirit. Christopher had wronged me so deeply it was scored forever on my heart, a wound so deep I wasn’t sure I could ever fully forgive him. But I knew just as deeply that Ben had taken advantage of the situation, taken advantage of me, swooping in when he knew he’d have little resistance.
Sighing, Ben pushed the laptop toward his knees. He rubbed at his eyes with the pads of his fingers. He dropped them and stared across at me. “Just trust me on this, Sam. You shouldn’t have stopped to talk to her in the first place.” His expression softened into a plea. “The only thing in this world I care about is you, and I can’t stand the thought of you getting dragged into old memories that can only hurt you. I was there, remember? And I know what you went through. Just forget that you saw her and I’ll forget that you even mentioned it.”
The last sounded almost like a threat.
I blinked away the brimming moisture in my eyes, and somewhere inside me, I felt resentment taking root.
My thoughts spun hard and fast, contemplating my direction, what I wanted to say. My heart hurt when I finally spoke. “It wasn’t a big deal, Ben,” I lied softly, quietly, because that was something I never wanted to be. A liar. But I didn’t know how to go toe-to-toe with him on this. I really didn’t even know where I stood. Every reservation I’d had about going back to Aly’s surfaced, but it all floated on my determination to give this a try. Like Aly had said, I needed to let this bitterness go. To free myself.
And if this was a mistake? Then it was my mistake. One I would own. If Ben couldn’t even allow me to get one sentence out without jumping all over my stupidity, then he didn’t deserve to be a part of it.
“I just was telling you I ran into someone I knew from the old neighborhood,” I continued, my tone lifting in nonchalance, as if that meeting hadn’t marked a shift in my world. What that change would be, I still had no clue. But I felt that anxious anticipation proclaiming that things were never going to be the same.
He looked at me as if maybe he didn’t trust me. “Just be careful, Sam.”
I nodded and changed the subject. “So are you hungry? Do you want me to make something or do you want to go out?” I turned to head into the kitchen, then paused to look back over my shoulder, my mouth going dry. “Oh… and tomorrow night I’m going over to Cici’s. My friend from work? It’s her birthday and she’s having her girlfriends over for a couple drinks.” Guilt closed off my throat, and I quickly turned to head into the kitchen.
Christopher had always made me into a liar.
Guess I learned from the best.
Because in the end, that’s what he’d turned out to be.
The most ruthless kind of liar.
Saturday evening I spent more time getting ready than was wise. Standing in front of the full-length mirror in my bathroom, I stared at my reflection. Maybe if I studied it hard enough, I would find some sort of clarity.
This morning I’d texted Aly asking if I could bring anything, what to wear, and what Courtney might like, since the last time I’d seen her she hadn’t even turned ten.
Aly had instantly replied, and it was as if I could sense her warmth in the letters that made up the words of her text. And again, it had reaffirmed that I liked her, that I felt a connection with her that I had with few other friends. She made me feel as if I belonged somewhere, when usually I remained on the fringes, too cautious to ever step into the fray.
For the first time in such a long time, I wanted to get mixed up in it.
My phone buzzed with that tone, and I smiled as I grabbed it from the bathroom counter. I pressed down to accept his Snap.
Stewart’s face was all lit up, superclose to the camera, his eyes bugging out as he widened them as far as they would go. Scrawled across them was, What’s up, Crazy Lady?
My heart pumped true with affection.
In the full-length mirror, I snapped my own picture, a straight-up mirror selfie of my party-ready persona. So maybe I typically didn’t go for all of this egotistical self-love. But I figured if anyone would appreciate my efforts, it was Stewart, the little nag, always telling me to get out more, even though there wasn’t a chance in this world I’d let on to where I was really heading.
Aly had told me they were all dressing up a little to celebrate. Taking into consideration that it was hot, I picked out my nicest pair of black shorts, fitted around the waist and flared at my thighs, a silky, dark blue pullover blouse, the short sleeves all billowy and soft, and a pair of high platform wedges to set it all off. My hair was pressed into long sheets and my makeup was soft, my red lips coated in clear, shimmery gloss, pursed in their permanent pout.
I typed across my picture and pressed send.
Livin’ it up tonight! #BirthdayParty
Instead of a Snap, my phone dinged with a regular old text.
Sexy bitch.
Ha, I tapped back out, unable to contain my grin.
Immediately, he texted back. No, seriously, you look beautiful.
The way I looked bolstered my confidence, even if my outward appearance didn’t come close to matching the mayhem that was staging a frontline war in my mind.
But I felt as if this was my redo. A chance to go back to that moment that had changed me so drastically and start again. To prove to myself that I was strong. A survivor. But also, that I was full of forgiveness and I could stand in a room with the man who’d hurt me more than anyone else ever had and not look on him with bitterness and blame.
I wanted to be that girl.
One without regrets.
I doubted I could achieve all of that tonight. Finding that strength and letting go of all the pain I’d held on to would take effort and wouldn’t come in a passing day. But it was a start, and I knew the first step was facing Christopher. Facing the way he made me feel. All of it – the chaos and confusion and uncertainty. The anger and the hate. The passion and the need and those flickers of a naive young love that had never dimmed or died.
It was time.
Another text buzzed.
Don’t forget about little ol’ me when the man of your dreams sees you and sweeps you off your feet tonight… We have a date tomorrow… My house. Noon. Expect the time of your life ;)
I shook my head, my fingers flying across the pad.
Um… Ben… remember?
His reply was almost instant.
Riiight…
I felt his eye roll from all the way across town.
Stewart had this overly dramatic, overtly romantic notion for my life. To Stewart, Ben didn’t fit the bill. I was pretty sure the kid didn’t even like him, and he’d get all bristly and quiet whenever Ben stopped by to spend time with him. Lately those visits had become few and even farther between.
I didn’t quite get Ben. He’d been the one with that amazingly profound gesture for Stewart. But once Stewart got sick again, Ben seemed not to want anything to do with him at all.
When Ben admitted he was the one who’d written the letter that was responsible for the book that had become Stewart’s most prized possession, I’d finally allowed myself to give in and let go. Ben and I had seemed inevitable, anyway, and if any one person could be that thoughtful, how could I continue to turn him away?
That was the kind of man I wanted.
A thoughtful one. Kind and considerate.
I’d once believed Christopher to be that… but as it’s said, actions speak so much louder than words.
My response was simple yet somehow painful.
Ben is a good man.
Another Snap came through. I clicked into the message, and this time it wasn’t my brother’s face, but a picture of a girl being spun around in a field, her long hair flying behind her as she laughed toward the sky, held in her lover’s arms. Across it in a pretty script, it read, Every girl deserves to be swept off her feet.
I didn’t respond, because what could I possibly say? Christopher had swept me off my feet and then tossed me right on my ass. I couldn’t have fallen any harder. Stewart couldn’t understand that. I knew he’d looked up to Christopher so much, thought of him as the cool guy who’d joke around with him, make him laugh. Viewed him as someone who didn’t treat him as if he was any different from everyone else. Loved him, even.
But it’d all been a front. A fucking game.
Was I crazy for wanting to forgive Christopher for that?
I glanced at the clock. I was already half an hour late.
Sighing, I walked to the front door.
Guess so.
Completely insane. Out of my mind.
I gathered the pink gift bag stuffed with glittery tissue paper.
A present for Cici.
Making up all these stupid lies made me cringe, but once you made up one, you had to keep up, and Ben had tagged along with me to the mall when I’d gone to buy a gift. The next came when I said another girl from work would be swinging by to pick me up, and yet another when I filled him in that she’d so kindly also be bringing me home.
Yep, I even had my own little fake DD. Ben had been all kinds of grateful for her. He said he wouldn’t have to worry about me making it home safe. But really it meant he could have an unrestricted night out with the guys, and I wouldn’t be putting a damper on his plans.
Funny how he always wanted me safe at home while he could go out and do whatever it was he did every weekend.
About thirty minutes earlier, he’d left with a quick peck to my lips and the instruction not to wait up, while he had the nerve to tell me not to stay out too late.
Resentment rolled through my consciousness. If he just had let me talk, he’d know where I was going. Maybe he’d even have been my date.
But my disappointment in him didn’t come close to equaling my relief. I needed to do this on my own and without his interference. Strong and independent.
I flung the door open and squinted into the glaring light. Heat pulsed along the desert ground, the sun sagged low on the horizon, strewing glorious hues of colors across the desert sky as the endless blue canopy slowly darkened with the imminent night.
I pulled in a cleansing breath and locked the door behind me. I couldn’t tell if I was more nervous this time or the last, my stomach flipping and my heart like a scatter of birds flapping at my chest.
Last time I hadn’t known what to expect, whether I would see Christopher, and if I did, what I would feel.
If I was being honest, I guessed I’d hoped I’d feel nothing – that seeing him would mean nothing, that he’d faded into nothing but a distant memory. Forgettable.
Now I knew full well the violent impact he had on my senses. That dreaded anticipation ballooned, pressing and pulsing at my ribs. Still, I forged on with staunch determination set in my feet.
Those confident steps faltered when I rounded the corner and saw the cars lining the street. But it wasn’t the number of them that caused me concern. It was that ominous, unmistakable black truck sitting right in front of Aly’s house that stole my breath and sent a rush of panic trampling through my senses. The same one I’d nearly collided with last Sunday afternoon.
Foolish, foolish girl.
The thought struck me deep, driving a blade of awareness into my soul. Within the confines of my house, I had such good intensions, such profound resolutions.
But now, as I approached the door to Aly’s house and the sound of carefree voices and buoyant laughter beat at my ears, I felt even smaller than that gullible girl who’d been curled up in a ball on the bathroom floor at that party seven years ago, completely crushed. And like Ben had said, I’d been lucky he was there. The desperate relief I’d felt that night when he’d scooped me into his arms was one I’d never forget. Literally, he’d picked me up. Then over the years, he’d pieced me back together.
Swallowing back the memories, I pressed a trembling finger to the doorbell.
I can do this.