A Fine Mess (Over the Top) (23 page)

I wake to pounding.

Rubbing my temples, I assess the damage. The thumping resumes, a distant knocking not coming from inside my skull. I glance at the clock. Nine in the morning is too early for Sunday visitors. Dragging my ass out of bed, I throw on a pair of track pants and a T-shirt, shouting, “Coming,” as I trudge to the door. Yawning, I pull it open to find my mother.

She’s put together as usual with her pencil skirt, blue cashmere sweater, and country-club pearls. Without a word she breezes past me, pulls out two dining room chairs, and motions for me to sit. Normally, she’d comment on the empty pizza box and Scotch bottle on my counter, the comic books strewn over the leather couch. Not a thing is said.

She means business.

I scrub my face, wishing for a keg of coffee. A bulletproof vest. Empty-handed, I take my place and fold my arms.

She sits, legs crossed, determination in her green eyes. “You can’t avoid me forever, Sawyer. I’m not proud of the things I’ve done, the choices I’ve made, but I’m still your mother. It’s time we talked.”

I shrug, as if I don’t want to apologize for my silent treatment. As if I don’t want to scream at her. As if I’m not confused as fuck. Still, she’s the woman who raised me. Loved me. Gave me shit when I was out of line. My momma’s boy status hasn’t changed; I’m just not sure what to do with the rest of it. “Fine. I’m all for hashing things out. You can start with why you cheated on Dad.”

Her cheeks pale, a slight lightening below her blush. “I’ll try to explain. It was a long time ago, and I don’t want you to think I’m lessening my blame. There’s no excuse for what I did.” She inhales deeply, releasing her breath in a rush. “Your father’s crazy work hours started when you were little. His time away from the family and the house increased. If I talked to him about it, we fought. Not that I didn’t appreciate what he was doing for us financially, but the side effects were undeniable. We drifted apart. I felt like a single mother, exhausted, frustrated. Angry at him. Then I met a man at the country club.”

She touches her pearls, and I contemplate staging a fire drill. There’s only so much a guy wants to know about his mother’s sexual history. Undeterred, she presses on, “I decided to do something for myself and took up tennis lessons once a week. The details aren’t important, but I was intimate with my instructor. Once. Your father walked into the house and caught us. That was the day you found me at home.”

Superpower wish: illusion casting,
torch and replace visual image
.

I cross my arms tighter. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

She sighs. “There’s nothing to say. Your father was furious with me, as was his right. He couldn’t forgive me. For years, I couldn’t forgive myself. The cheating was one thing, but I quickly realized how much I loved him. Then every time you threw a tantrum over him, I felt it to my core. I knew that animosity should have been directed at me. I’m not proud of what I did, the lies I told. I only hope you can forgive me.”

“But why did he go along with it? That’s what I don’t get. Why not throw you under the bus? Why let me hate him for so long?”

“Because he loves you. He couldn’t forgive me at the time, and he also wasn’t prepared to change his career to be a more full-time parent. He knew I’d be the one to raise you, and when he saw how angry you were at him, he was worried about what would happen if you directed that hatred at me. You needed stability, one parent who was present to love and raise you boys, so he sacrificed his relationship with you. It’s only recently we’ve talked about it, that he insisted I tell you. I should have done it sooner. I was wrong. But I love you, Sawyer. That has never changed.”

Love. I glance at the small wooden carving on my coffee table, a memento from my time in Belize. A memory of Lily. I’m a mess without her, barely functioning, but I’d never take my own life. For my mother to have overdosed, regardless of the state of her marriage and what she did, she must have loved my father something fierce.

I lean back and grip my armrests so tightly my pinky ring cuts into my skin. “I don’t know what’s wrong with our family. I don’t understand why we wreck the people closest to us.” I glance at the ceiling, the burn behind my eyes uncomfortable. “I ended things with Lily. She’s too good for me, and if I hurt her, like
really
hurt her, it would kill me.”

Hand clutched to her chest, my mother closes her eyes. A moment passes. Two. Finally, she focuses on me, sadness etched in her face. “You may not want to hear this, but you’re more like your father than you realize. He protected you. Although he couldn’t forgive me, he ruined his relationship with you to make sure you grew up in a happy home. Don’t let your suffering be our legacy.”

We sit in silence, my chest constricting as her words sink in. The twisting worsens, a gradual shortening of my breath, because she’s right—I am my father. He made a shitty choice, thinking it would save me heartache. I lost him in my life, developed a warped sense of relationships, and it’s not okay. None of it. I should have had a choice, known the truth, whatever the fallout. And I did the same fucking thing to Lily. Worried I’d do more damage in the long run, I robbed us both of our relationship, but it wasn’t my decision to make. It was
ours
.

And it still could be.

Hope speeds my heart, my rib cage tightening to contain the rhythm. The realization joins Nico’s advice and Shay’s dirty looks, bundled in a package that screams,
Get your shit together.
If I had another chance with Lily, I’d do it right. Better than right. I wouldn’t be a coward and let my fear control my actions, wouldn’t let our relationship deteriorate like my mother’s and Finn’s. When things got tough, they drifted. They chose silence instead of fights. I’d step in front of a derailing train for Lily. I’d lie naked over hot coals. If making a relationship work means catching things early, I’d lock us in a room at the first sign of trouble. Using handcuffs, of course.

If
I had another chance.

I lean my elbows on my knees and take my mother’s fidgety hands in mine. “I forgive you. It’s all pretty messed up, and I’m still mad, but I’d never cut you out of my life.”

She pulls a hand free and places it on top of mine, squeezing, reassuring me. A mother’s touch always heals. “What about Lily?”

“I’m not sure she’ll forgive me.”

“If she loves you, she’ll understand.”

“I hurt her, though. Badly. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I still did it.”

“You’ll have to be persuasive, then. I didn’t fight for your father. Too ashamed at what I’d done, I let go. Don’t repeat my mistakes.”

Apologize to Lily. Make her mine.
The past two months, I’ve avoided life. I thought I’d move on, forget her, and hop back into my old lifestyle. The only patterns I’ve resumed are the Masturbation Olympics of my youth. There’s no getting over her. Creatively, I’m not as strong. Emotionally, I’m useless. I barely sleep at night. By the sound of Shay’s comment, Lily’s struggling, too. That’s all I need. A window. A chance. Convince her I’ll never use my past as an excuse to hurt our future again.

Shay’s my ticket in. As pissed as she was last night, she saw me turn down that bartender. She saw the circles under my eyes, commented on my hermit status. I need to explain what happened—Finn, my mother, the whole sordid mess—and ask for her help. Iron Man messed up pretty rough before he got the girl. All heroes fall before getting up. They also don’t back down.

If Lily pushes me away, I’ll fight harder.

I lean forward, kiss my mother’s cheek, and stand. “Nothing can happen until I mainline coffee. Want some?”

“I’ll pass, but thank you. Does that mean you’ll talk to Lily?”

“Yeah. I plan on mainlining her, too. Once I get her back.”

She grins. “That’s my boy.” She gathers her purse and coat, but pauses at the door. “Thank you for your forgiveness, Sawyer. But I’d also like you to think about having a real conversation with your father.”

I pop a coffee pod into my Nespresso machine. “I’m not ready. I won’t avoid it forever, just let me sort my life first.” Better to tackle one cluster-fuck at a time.

She nods and leaves as I plot my attack. I need to get Lily here and take her to the fishing spot I’d visit as a kid, my past meeting my future. Show her I’m no longer afraid of the two. I could wear my ninja suit and bring my samurai sword, or perform magic tricks and cast spells. Always an option. The best plan, though, the only thing she deserves, is the ugly truth. No fanfare. No tricks. I’ll walk a tightrope of honesty and hope she supplies me with a safety net.

The flight to Vancouver is long and nerve-racking, my copy of
Pretty in Pink
not enough to quell my anxiety. Kolton offered to fly Raven and me down for the long Easter weekend, an early birthday gift for Shay, and I’m starting to regret accepting. I declined at first. The idea of being in the same time zone as Sawyer is up there with confessing my shopping to my parents. But I’ve yet to visit Shay out West, and she went on about showing us around and how she missed us and how I needed to get away.

Predictably, I caved.

I shouldn’t be nervous; the odds of running into Sawyer are slim. Since he and Kolton are close, I made it clear to Shay I didn’t want to see him. This trip is about Raven and me visiting our best friend. Still, I brought my own movies on the flight to occupy my mind. I’ve been going through a John Hughes phase, curling up on my couch to rewatch classics. Lose myself in silly comedies and forget the world for a minute. Forget Sawyer. I started with
National Lampoon’s Vacation
, working up through the years, which put
Pretty in Pink
and
Weird Science
next on my list.

Even Molly Ringwald and her adorable short hair couldn’t tame my freak-out. Halfway through the flight, Raven slapped her hand over mine. “If you don’t stop picking your nails, you’ll hit bone. I don’t do well with blood.” Then more gently, “I’m here. Shay will be there. Even if you see Sawyer, we’re here for you.”

Still, I fidgeted the whole way.

Time has lessened the wounds left in Sawyer’s wake, but they haven’t fully healed. I dream about him often, think about him more. To breathe the same air as him, to know, although improbable, I could bump into him, has me biting my cuticles raw. Especially since he could be with another woman. I don’t believe the why of his cruel telephone call two and a half months ago, but I won’t force the issue. The stronger I get emotionally, the more I realize I deserve an honest man who will fight for me, regardless of his issues or mine. I want the whole package. A Molly Ringwald happy ending. Sawyer isn’t that for me, which means I’ll have to start dating soon.

My stomach knots at the prospect.

The arrival area is full, people giddy to lay eyes on friends and family, hugs and squeals of joy abounding. I search the faces, no Shay in sight. I pull my phone from my purse to find a text from her:
I’m running late. Meet me outside.

I show Raven, and we wheel our suitcases behind us. A young girl screams, “Daddy!” and launches herself at a bearded man. The warmth of their hug could cure cancer. My nerves dissipate as we walk through the automatic doors, Vancouver’s April air balmy compared to home. This short trip will be fun. I’ll hang out with my girls. I won’t dwell on Sawyer or picture us on the beach or in Stanley Park. I’ll enjoy my time. Without the man I love.

Not easy when he’s staring at me.

I blink once. And again. I blink until my eyes hurt.

He’s across the street in worn jeans, boots, and a gray T-shirt, the top of his hair catching in the wind. Cool. Casual. Calm. His face is anything but. Even from my distance, I see his worried frown. Brakes squeal and car doors slam as travelers hurry by, exhaust fumes pumping from a passing beat-up car. He lifts one hand in a tentative wave.

My wrap dress blows around my legs, all my limbs locked. I don’t move. Don’t breathe. The tiniest shift and I’ll fall.

Why is he here?

I turn to Raven. “Why is he here?”

The wind whips her bangs to the side, a deep sigh following. “For the record, this wasn’t my idea, and we thought telling you would make you more stressed. But your boy, Sawyer, spoke to Shay, and whatever he said convinced her you should hear him out. Can’t say I agree. As far as I’m concerned, he’s a total Derek. But not having closure sucks, and you’re struggling to move on.” When I don’t reply, she adds, “Say the word and we leave him standing there.”

Raven came to my farmhouse last week, a daunting trip that should have had my anxiety at an all-time high. Turns out Dr. Renford was right. Sharing my secret decreased its power. The same worries wormed into my consciousness, but they didn’t consume me. With Raven at my side, I sifted through a section of my belongings, purging most but holding on to key items. Steps. Stages. The building blocks of wellness.

Here I am, faced with Sawyer, and my newfound calm dissolves. But Raven’s right. If I want to move on, I need closure. Get everything out in the open and start fresh. As much as I hate the surprise, the girls are doing what’s best for me. “I’ll talk to him,” I finally say.

“Good.” She grabs her bag. “I’ll be in the parking garage with Shay. Text if you need us.” She leaves, and I sneak another glance at Sawyer.

My fingers travel to the chain bracelet around my wrist, to its heart-shaped clasp, its history locked inside. Imagining this story would be easier than facing my own, but avoiding isn’t living. I stayed with Kevin because it was easier than striking out on my own. I hold on to purchases because they dull pain. But some things exist for a reason. A tree frog’s bright colors and a rattler’s tail are warnings, giving prey time to escape. Blocking feelings is like touring a jungle deaf and blind.

Slowly, I ease my fingers off the bracelet. No matter how hard facing Sawyer is, I’ll survive. No matter why he’s here, I’ll let myself feel the whole of my emotions. No escaping. No pretending. Live the pain and stand stronger. If need be, I’ll get drunk with Shay and Raven, my favorite cure.

By the time I take my first step across the road, he’s frowning at his feet. Then he looks up, a soft smile in place, the full curve of his bottom lip pulling up. He’s as handsome as I remember, his strong jaw softened by his slanted, brown eyes. He mouths my name.

I hurry through the traffic and stop beside him, heart in my throat. My pink dress must match the flush of my cheeks. “Why are you here?”

He digs his hands deeper in his pockets, sadness in the depths of his gaze. “To talk to you. To apologize and explain.”

God, that voice. It curls around me, through me, almost knocking me off my feet. But I don’t fall. I pull my shoulders back and tilt up my chin. “Okay. Talk.” I don’t give him an inch. Not a millimeter. Whatever reason he’s here, he’ll have to cross the distance on his own.

“Can we go somewhere quiet?”

I shake my head. “Here’s fine.”

He huffs out a defeated laugh. “I deserve that.” He steps closer. I wait and wait, until, “I fucked up. Bad. Things happened when I came home that set me off, and I pushed you away because I thought it was best for you.” When I don’t acknowledge his vague explanation, he scrubs his neck. “Finn cheated on Meryl.”

My hand flies to my chest, my heart squeezing for Meryl and her girls. Sawyer goes on, “I went over for dinner and found her in pieces. She lost it, freaked out. He’d been messing around on her for two years. It wasn’t pretty, to say the least. I went on a hunt for him to my mother’s and found her and my dad arguing. Turns out they’d been lying to me most of my life.”

The squeals of cars and shouts of travelers disappear as Sawyer spills his story: Finn, his mother, and the ugliness he endured. Him thinking he was doing me a favor. How scared he was to hurt me, too. Anger. So much anger.

He reaches over and brushes errant strands of hair from my cheek, and
God
, his touch—it turns me inside out, tingles cascading down my neck. His fingers hesitate as he tucks the strands behind my ear. “I’ve missed you so much, Lil. It’s ridiculous. I was terrified to talk to you. I nearly threw up on the drive over. Everything just knocked me off my feet, and it took me a while to realize we were in this together, but I made it about me. I wanted you to get help, get better, and all I could see were the ways I’d derail you. It wasn’t fair, and I’m sorry. Will you give me another chance?”

He pulls his hand back and I lilt forward, his touch magnetic. He sees it, feels it, the control his body still has over mine. Eyes heavy with the weight between us, he leans down, his tongue grazing his bottom lip. Closer. Closer still. I almost kiss him. I almost fist his hair and pull him to me. Instead I press my hand to his chest and push him away. “I know you lied when you called. What you said didn’t make sense, and for the past two months, I’ve been hoping to hear everything you’ve just said. I’m sorry about Finn and Meryl, and I don’t know where to start with your parents. I wish I’d been there to help you through it.”

I pause and flatten my palm on the plane of his chest, his heart hammering below my touch. Mine matches its speed.
Yes
, I want to say.
I forgive you. Let’s pick up where we left off.
But so much has happened. What’s to stop him from doing this again? How do I know he won’t panic and hurt me ten times over?

He covers my hand with his, a deep crease between his brows. “This silence can’t be good. Am I too late? Is this you saying no?”

“This isn’t no. This is I don’t know. It’s all really sudden. I need time to process.”

“Time is fine. I can do time. Like how long, exactly? Tonight? Tomorrow?”

“I don’t know.”

He curls his fingers around mine, my favorite Sawyer smirk lighting his face. “I could do the running man.”

I laugh halfheartedly. “Won’t help.”

“Moonwalking? I know the moves to the ‘Thriller’ video. Performed it at a high school talent show.”

Always the comedian. “I’d prefer not.”

He gets serious then. “What do I have to do? Say it and I’ll do it. Anything.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if there’s a magic fix. I don’t know if I can forgive you. I just need time.”

He hunches forward and kicks at the pavement. “Okay. I’ll give you time.” He looks up, gaze unwavering. “But I won’t give up. The girls are in the parking garage. I’ll tell them to pick you up.”

I try to speak, but the words catch in my throat. I nod instead.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I love you. Never stopped. And I miss you like crazy. I’d take that day back if I could.” With that he walks away.

And I’m a tornado again. My feelings for Sawyer spin with the ugliness that happened, all of it too closely linked. Part of me wants to call his name and stop him, fly into his arms and erase the tortured look from his face. But he promised once he’d never hurt me. He looked me in the eyes and offered me love. What he gave me instead was grief.

Raven, Shay, and I walk into Turf, a cool hangout in downtown Vancouver. Mellow beats greet us as we step inside, a black bar running the length of the room. Exposed brick fills the wall behind it, sections recessed to display bottles. A large, spiky chandelier bathes the room in soft light, candles flickering on the bar and the few tables. The place is half-full, and I study each man, expecting to see Sawyer.

It’s been like this since the airport.

Shay took us to Stanley Park, a beautiful oasis in the middle of the city, and a man with sandy hair ran by. I caught my breath until I noticed a tattoo on his calf. Not Sawyer. An engine roared as we left, and I searched wildly, sure it was his Dodge Challenger. It was a Corvette.

Our conversation this morning is lodged in my mind. He said he still loved me, promised he wouldn’t give up. He spilled horrible things about his family—truths I’m struggling to understand—and he’s dealt with them on his own, isolating himself, pushing me away. The more I think about his behavior, the more I understand it. The more I wish I could be there for him. But that means risking my heart again.

I order a drink with the girls, and we stake claim on the large leather booth at the back, all three of us squished so we can people watch, me between my best friends.

Shay sips her wine, her cheeks pink. She’s been glowing all day, thrilled to show us around. Tonight, her curls are tied in a braid, her green summer dress reflecting her hazel eyes. Eyes that are focused on me. “You’ve been quiet all afternoon. Was it a bad idea bringing Sawyer to the airport? Are you mad?”

Before we left Shay’s house earlier, I gave them the lowdown—filled them in on Sawyer’s family drama, his apology. It wasn’t news to Shay. They’d had coffee recently, and he spilled his life story, even sharing his mother’s overdose. He did that for me, opening old wounds to get me here. It couldn’t have been easy for him, but it worked. Shay agreed to ask me for a visit.

I swirl my wineglass and watch the gold liquid slosh up the sides. “No. You guys were right. I wasn’t moving on. Either way, I need closure. It’s just…”

When I trail off, Raven bumps my elbow with hers. “You still love him, don’t you?”

I bite my lip and nod. “So much. Seeing him, listening to what he’s been through, it was hard. I knew I wasn’t over him, but it’s like I can’t breathe since this morning.”

She and Shay share a look, then Raven puts on her game face. “I wasn’t all for this romantic reunion with Sawyer, but I get it now. All the cards are on the table. No more bullshit about him dating other people. It’s pretty clear he’s been a hermit since he fucked things up. And I don’t think he’ll hurt you again. Not intentionally, at least. He’s been through a lot, and it obviously messed with his head. But aren’t we all a little messy?”

I’m beyond messy. Even when Sawyer saw me at my worst, he didn’t judge me, didn’t run away. He helped me. Hurting me was his warped way of caring for me, too. He’s suffered as much as I have the past months. So why am I keeping my distance?

Shay bops her head to the funky beats and says, “Whatever you decide, you still have us. I’m so happy you guys came for a visit. Sawyer might have instigated the whole thing, but I followed through for selfish reasons. I miss you ladies.”

“Speaking of our long-distance love affair”—Raven traces the tattoo on her wrist—“what would you say if I was thinking of moving out here, permanently?”

Shay smacks her shoulder. “Shut up.”

Raven winces. “Is that good or bad?”

Shay squeals so loudly people stare. “That is so freaking good I don’t know what to say about it. You better not be playing with me.”

Raven laughs. “I gave my notice at the school before this trip. I can’t do it anymore. As much as I love the hours, I’m not built to spend my days with teenagers. Teaching is life sucking. And since I’ll be unemployed, I was thinking of doing something new.” Her body language changes then, her bangs shifting as she tilts her head and smiles at something across the room. I follow her gaze to the tall blond man at the bar giving her the once-over. “Plus,” she says, “I like the view in Vancouver.”