Cut Too Deep (5 page)

“Seriously, for all she knows, I’m your girlfriend.”

Mac laughed softly, and then his expression turned somber.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“That she’s bold—absolutely!”

“Seriously,” he mocked her, “I thought we were friends now. You know exactly what I was referring to.”

Hadley did, and her friend's hurt expression tugged on her emotions. Mac wanted to know if she truly
wasn’t
sorry her father died. He wouldn’t understand if she answered honestly.

“I thought we agreed not to talk about my dad.”

Mac preferred the sparkle that usually glimmered in her chocolate colored eyes, instead of the dull and lifeless depths that were staring at him nervously. He desperately wanted to know what happened to Hadley to make her so guarded.

“Right…well, what about your mom?”

“She’s dead, too,” Hadley answered quickly before she lost it and freaked out. Her lip quivered when she attempted to hold back tears.

“I take it, you are sorry she’s gone.” Hadley nodded hesitantly and sent him a weak smile. Mac continued. “My mom’s gone, too. She had Lupus and fought like hell, but in the end, fighting wasn’t enough.”

Hadley’s mother fought like hell, too, and it wasn’t enough, either.

“I’m sorry.”

Mac shrugged in that way people do when they want you to think something uncomfortable is no big deal.

“How’d you learn to dance like that?” Being perceptive, Mac tried to change the subject. This one, however, wasn’t all that much easier for Hadley to talk about. She considered there were very few subjects that were easy for her.

“Well, I spent my fair share of time in foster care after my parents died. Mostly dumps. But, one was with a wealthy family in Long Island. Their daughter was a dancer.”

“So, they signed you up, too,” Mac assumed.

“Oh, no, the parents were assholes. I was essentially nothing more than a rent-a-sister.” They both laughed. “But, their daughter Laura was a sweetheart. They had a dance studio in their home, and she taught me. I fell in love. I got a late start, but Laura said I was a natural. She’d never seen anyone pick it up as quickly.”

“Do you still talk to her?”

The innocent enough question sent her nerves into a tailspin. Hadley started her breathing technique again before another panic attack came on. Her mind wrestled with telling Mac the reason she and Laura no longer spoke. The truth hurt, but it also healed, and could bring Hadley closer to the woman she wanted to be—one who had friends and trusted. The truth; she’d slit her wrist in Laura’s bathroom after a troubling visit with her guardian, one in which he ruined her life and stole her remaining innocence.

Her desire to end her life had been real, but she’d also been afraid to cut too deep and actually succeed.

“I had a pretty crappy childhood and ended up in foster care where things only got worse. I attempted to be tough, but my inner demons battled with my will to live, and I lost the fight. I tried to kill myself. Laura rushed into the bathroom and found me. She was understandably traumatized. I wasn’t welcomed back and Laura’s parents filed a restraining order to keep me from contacting their daughter.”

Hadley didn’t intend to let the truth fall out when she opened her mouth. She planned to offer simply that she no longer spoke with Laura, but when she looked across the table and didn’t see the judgment she anticipated, the words rushed out of her as easily as a breath of air.

Losing one of very few people Hadley ever considered a friend had been nearly as difficult as being abandoned by her parents. Where Hadley thought she would find pity, understanding stared back at her.

“I had no idea. That must have been difficult for you.”

“It was.”  She swallowed hard, waiting for Mac to request details.

“She taught you well.” Hadley smiled a thank you to her friend, who purposefully avoided digging any deeper. “Have you ever considered it professionally?”

“Of course, I have.” Hadley frowned. “But starting out there’s not enough money in it to support myself.”

Mac nodded thoughtfully.

“You’re a special girl, Hadley Walker. I hope you know I’m always here for you.”

“You always have been.”

“I don’t know about that.” His eyebrows creased. “I wish I could have been there for you then. It sounds like you needed a friend.”

Hadley recalled a similar time when Mac had been there for her, although he didn’t know it.

“You remember when we first met?”

Mac nodded.

“How could I forget? Dickhead did a number on you that morning.”

At the time, Hadley told Mac Mr. Jensen caused her tears. Mr. Jensen definitely triggered them, his anger so much like her father's, had sent her to a dark place in her mind. But, her memories were the cause of her breakdown. Memories she tried desperately to avoid.

“True, but it was more than that.”

“Oh.”

Hadley kept her voice low and continued.

“Your friendship means more than you’ll ever know. I spent the morning we met in the bathroom determined to try again at ending my life. Ultimately, and only after an intense internal struggle, I couldn’t see it through. I dropped the razor, vowed to be a stronger person, to quit being angry with myself. When I arrived at work, Dickhead confronted me, and my vow of strength quickly disappeared. When you found me balled up in the copy room, I was seconds away from going home and seeing it through.”

“Oh God, I knew you were upset, but I had no idea it was that serious.”

“No, but you made me laugh, and you talked me off the ledge. You explained Mr. Jensen’s anger was a reflection of him and had nothing to do with me. That one sentence changed my outlook on many things. Thank you.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll still be my friend, because I’m afraid you think differently of me now.”

“Of course, I’ll still be your friend. I don’t think any differently of you, and thank you for telling me. It explains a lot, actually.”

“I know. I’m pretty messed up, right?”

“I didn’t say that, but you are guarded. I know you don’t want to share it all, but when you’re ready to bring the walls down, I’ll be here.”

Hadley didn’t have walls up, she had towering skyscrapers, but somehow over time and with a little kindness, Mac found a way to sneak a glance inside.

“I know you will. Thank you.”

“Promise me if you ever think about ending it all again, that you’ll come and talk to me.”

“I will, but honestly, after that morning, I’ve never considered it again. Your friendship changed me.”

The two friends continued with their meal, engaging in less intense, casual conversation. Hadley’s shoulders felt light after releasing some of the weight she carried around like a lead balloon. She enjoyed the sound of Mac’s laughter while she devoured her cheeseburger.

Mac promised Megan, the waitress, he would call her before he and Hadley headed out into the sticky night air. New York’s weather in June came and went unpredictably. One minute it could be crisp and dry, and the next clouds rolled in, moistening the air and producing thunder and lighting. Judging by the rise in humidity, a storm brewing off shore would hit the city soon. Hadley preferred to be home before it did.

When they settled into Mac’s Honda, a hint of tension still hounded them. They never discussed the kiss, and Hadley thought it would be best to let it go.

“Are you going to call Megan?”

The distinct change in Hadley’s tone when she said the waitresses name amused Mac.

“Maybe.” He grinned “Why? Are you jealous?”

“No!” she replied instantly. “But you can’t date her very long. Seriously, Mac and Megan. It sounds like a TV sitcom.”

Mac laughed, but didn’t reply. After a quiet car ride, they pulled up in front of Hadley’s building. She thanked Mac for a fun night. His hand landed on her knee when she started to get out.

“Hadley.” Her head turned to face him. “We’re good, right?”

She smiled and nodded to her friend before getting out of the car. He waited until she closed the door to her building to pull away. She and Mac were perfect.

As Mac drove home, he reflected on how significantly different his friend behaved from other women he knew who survived similar upbringings. Born in Queens, Mac had seen his fair share of dysfunctional families.

Thankfully in his mother’s absence, his grandmother took on the role of slapping him upside the head to keep him on the straight and narrow.  Her heavy hand wouldn’t allow him to use his mother’s death as an excuse to fall into trouble or flunk out of school. And, it had been her love that kept him and his father from sinking into depression or succumbing to temptations, such as drugs or alcohol.

In a borough populated by the poor and unemployed, there were plenty of families living in much the way he imagined Hadley had. In his experiences, a hurt and neglected little girl turned into an attention seeking woman, a woman who left a trail of chaotic drama in her wake, yet, in the aftermath, found glory in the attention she received. Hadley was quite the opposite—withdrawn, introverted, and avoided attention at all cost. Perhaps she feared the opinions of others, but Mac assumed it went much deeper than that with his friend. For Hadley, shunning attention protected what little remained of her heart.

After showering, Hadley crawled into bed and stared at the ceiling. She’d taken a huge step and allowed Mac a tiny sliver of insight into her life. A small amount of pride surfaced, and for once in her life, she welcomed it. She had someone to call ‘friend’ and actually mean it.

D
arkness still loomed outside when Hadley woke up. Thunder boomed in the air. Flashes of lightening lit up the small bedroom. Sideways rain tapped against the window. Like many things, storms frightened Hadley. Another trigger to a memory lost, but not forgotten. To escape her father once, Hadley and her mother walked miles in a thunderstorm to a shelter. They were out of beds. Mother and daughter had to spend the night on a cold concrete floor, huddled together for warmth.

Hadley strolled into the kitchen. Her morning began with brewing a pot of coffee before she flipped on the television to the early news. She then returned to the kitchen and popped a bagel in the toaster oven. While pouring cream into a cup of coffee, a familiar name screamed at her from the television. She turned her head and listened to the anchor continue.

“Miller Genetti, President, and CEO of Genetti Industries is being detained indefinitely by a group of government backed militia in Thailand. Our sources tell us that as of this morning the US Embassy is involved.”

“Shit!” Hadley yelled when the cream overflowed the cup.

A puddle slid across the counter and dripped down the front of the cabinet. After tossing a dishtowel over the mess, Hadley ran to the couch. She flopped down on the squeaky cushions and listened intently to a female anchor who talked with a male counterpart on the scene in Thailand.

“Do we know why Mr. Genetti is in Thailand or why he’s being detained?”

“At this time, we do not know the reason for Mr. Genetti’s visit to Thailand, and representatives from Genetti Industries are refusing to comment. A source inside the embassy tells us the militia group claiming responsibility for Mr. Genetti’s detention, is alleging Mr. Genetti was trespassing on their property, and he will be held until they sort out exactly why he’s here.”

“Are the authorities in Thailand involved? Have formal charges been filed?”

“From what our source is telling us, no charges have been filed against Mr. Genetti by Thailand authorities. As I understand it, this is a militia group with a strong hold in this part of the country.”

“Are they allowing him to speak with a representative from the Embassy or anyone from his company?”

“Yes. A representative from the Embassy has been allowed to see him, but that person has not been identified. It will be up to the embassy to negotiate any other visitors. The Embassy is suggesting, as they have in similar situations when people have been detained in places like Iran, that the public write letters. These detentions can be quite long and reading letters written from home can often comfort a detainee. A Post Office Box has been set up by Genetti Industries. Both the Embassy and Genetti Industries have assured us the letters will be delivered to Mr. Genetti.”

“For our viewers, we are displaying that address now."

Hadley fumbled under a few papers on the coffee table, searching for a pen. After finding one, she jotted down the address, although she had no idea why. She would never actually write him.

She changed the channel to another station to see if they had more information only to find the story replicated. The local channel interviewed women on the street. They were all going on about the letters they planned to write to him. He obviously had many admirers. The women were falling over themselves to get in front of the camera and profess their love for him.

Why not hold up a sign that says, Gold Digging Hussy Looking to Land Rich Husband? Good grief!

Hadley turned off the television and returned to the kitchen, where she covered her bagel in Nutella. Being moderately addicted to the cocoa spread, she also ate several spoonfuls.