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Authors: Hilary Wynne

BOOK: Hold On
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“How’s that been working for you, Lexie?”

“Fuck you, Luke!” And with that I hang up. Really? I don’t think this day could be
filled with any more drama.

I can’t get Luke off of my mind the rest of the day. I hate to admit it but it felt
good to hear his voice. It was a voice I heard almost every day for seven years. It
felt good until I remembered why we weren’t talking. Then I just felt the pain of
what happened between us. The whole thing with Brady’s mom has me conflicted too.
I can’t help but wonder what she wants to talk about and why we can’t do it over the
phone. I don’t want to go to his parent’s house. He died there, in the pool house.
He also raped me there. Why in the world would I want to go there?

I’m pretty much useless the rest of the day because I can’t focus on anything but
what Julian and I talked about and what Luke and I talked about. I really don’t want
to go to Julian’s and be there by myself, so I decide to leave a little early and
go home. I’m not sure what kind of mood he’s going to be in when he gets home or if
he really will want me there anyway. I’m pretty tired from last night and although
I love sleeping with Julian, I worry about having another nightmare. It stresses me
out to always worry about what I’m going to say, or do, when I’m asleep.

On the way home I stop at Cocowalk to do a little shopping. It usually makes me feel
better and serves as a great distraction from the soap opera that is my life. Victoria’s
Secret is having a great sale and I pick up two new bras, a few pairs of panties,
and a cami & shorts PJ set. I also pop into White House Black Market and leave with
a really cute, white chiffon halter. I don’t buy any shoes which is victory for me
on some levels. I also grab some frozen yogurt for dinner before I go home. Not exactly
the healthiest choice, but it’s hot outside and it’s perfect.

I haven’t let Julian know I’m not going to be there when he gets back. He might get
upset so I wait until seven before I text him.

Alexa:
Hey – just letting you know I came home. I’m so tired. Call me when you’re free.

I don’t get a reply for almost an hour.

Julian:
Ok. Leaving now. Going to go work out. Talk to you later
Alexa:
Are you ok?
Julian:
I’ll call you later

I’m going to take that as a no, he’s not okay. That he didn’t seem to care I wasn’t
there coupled with the fact he usually works out in the morning makes me think he
needs some space to deal with what’s going on. I know something about that so I respect
it.

Julian doesn’t call until after ten. I’m half asleep, but I made sure to keep the
phone next to me so I’d hear it when he called. “Hey you.”

“Hey. Sorry it’s late. You sound like you were asleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“No, I’m up. How are you?”

I can tell he’s not in a good mood. His voice is clipped and monotone.

“I’m fine. Tired. Why don’t you go back to sleep and we can talk tomorrow.”

“Julian, I’m here to listen if you need to talk.”

“Thanks, but I’m all talked out right now.”

I chuckle a little. “I get that and I won’t push.” I’m disappointed though. I do want
to know what happened when he went to his parents. There’s a pause on the other end
of the phone and I hear Julian exhale. I wait patiently.

“I owe you an apology.”

“For what?” He hasn’t done anything wrong that I know of which means I’m about to
be surprised by something bad. It makes me sit up in anticipation.

“Today is Isabelle’s birthday. She would’ve been twenty-six today. I knew it wouldn’t
be an easy day for my parents and it was such a bad idea for them to meet you right
now.”

I don’t know what to say. He did tell me not long ago his sister was born in June,
but seeing as I’m trying to forget my own birthday, I didn’t think about it after
that initial conversation. It’s so odd he didn’t bring it up before now. Nobody in
his family let on at all. Both his mom and Danny seemed happy. His dad was drunk when
he walked in so I have no benchmark for his demeanor. But it makes total sense now
why his mom made the comment about Isabelle.

“Why wouldn’t you say something to me about it?”

“You don’t like to talk about birthdays and especially ones that have bad memories
around them. This falls into that category. I asked my mom about going out to dinner
with us, with you, before I said anything to you and she said it was fine and that
it would help take her mind off of Isabelle. My dad was the one who made a big deal
about you going to begin with so I thought he would be okay and on his best behavior.
I was wrong and I’m sorry.”

My heart breaks for him. “And you. Why didn’t you talk to me about how you were feeling?
This is a big deal.”

“I don’t talk about it with anyone.”

“I’m not just anyone.” My voice trails off as I wait for confirmation I am different.

“No, you’re not just anyone.”

I wait for the “but”, but it doesn’t come. He’s still not going to talk to me and
it bothers me. I’m well aware I’m the very last person who can get mad someone isn’t
sharing feelings, but in this case I feel a little rejected. I’m trying to be supportive
and it’s not getting me anywhere.

He knows me well enough to know I’m a little wounded by this so, in typical Julian
fashion, he tries to make me feel better.

“Lexie, I’m in a really, really bad mood. I’m tired and I’m worn out from what went
down at my parents. I know you’re trying to be supportive and I appreciate it. I really
do. But this is so much bigger than I can get into with you right now. I’ll just tell
you that my family is a mess. My dad is fucked up and my mom is a total enabler. I
confronted my dad and my mom made excuses for him. He denied doing or saying anything
wrong. My dad brought up Isabelle and it all went downhill. It always comes back to
her and to her death.”

I know a little about death too, and I know what Brady’s death did to me. It’s not
even close to the same thing and it completely rocked my world. I try to show some
sympathy for his parents. “I’m sure this time of year is hard. I can’t imagine how
they must feel around her birthday.”

My attempt to be supportive backfires, and now I know why Julian didn’t want to talk
about it. He lets loose with a tone that says he doesn’t agree with me at all. I hear
the anger and pain simmering beneath his words.

“Don’t make any excuses for them, not ever. It doesn’t have to be her birthday. It
can be any day or any week of any year. Her death isn’t an excuse to act the way he’s
been acting for ten years, and there’s no way my mom should support him. I lost her
too. I miss her every day. But, I don’t use it as an excuse to fuck up my life and
the lives of those around me. The past is the past. You can either choose to move
on and make the best of things or you can sit in the shit forever and play the victim.
I’m not a victim and I don’t have time for victims.”

I listen to him vent and although I want what he’s saying to be about his parents,
I can’t help but think he’s directing his comments at me as well. I know he thinks
I play the victim and I know he wishes I was over everything that happened with Brady.
It hasn’t been ten years and I didn’t lose a child, but to me, pain is pain and we
all deal with it in different ways and in our own time. I agree with some of what
he’s saying, but it has become perfectly clear Julian hasn’t dealt with the death
of his sister at all. He just thinks he has because he’s willed himself to be okay
with all of it. It’s why he doesn’t talk about it or have pictures out. It’s why he
keeps most people at arm’s length. He can’t handle another loss. I think about the
tattoo on his wrist and wonder if that was his way of keeping her close to him without
having to really think about her. I’m starting to get a better picture of the man
I’ve fallen in love with. That he wants to be close to me seems even more significant
now and I feel a little honored that this man, who doesn’t let people in, has given
me the keys, literally and figuratively, to his life.

I pick my words carefully. “All I know, Julian, is that I’m here for you. That’s it.
I’m here for you and I wish I was there with you. I’d like to be able to comfort you
like you always do for me.”

“Gracias. That means a lot. But, I’m okay. Really. I worked out hard and I need to
get some sleep. So, I’m going to go. I’ll talk to you in the morning. Okay?”

He’s shut down and he’s done. I get it. That’s one thing we can agree on.

“Okay. Sweet dreams, Julian. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Lexie.”

I lie awake for a while after we hang up and process what he said to me. There was
so much about Julian I didn’t know until now. He really isn’t much different than
me in that he doesn’t want people to know how he feels deep inside. I have to admit
it pretty much sucks to be on the other side of the fence.

My choice to spend the night at my house ends up being a great one. First, because
Julian wanted nothing to do with me tonight and second, because I have a scaled down
version of the same dream I had last night. I say scaled down because I wake myself
up with my own screams before I get out of bed. I don’t know if they’re really screams
because neither Marissa nor Shannon come running in, but they felt like the real deal
to me.

I wake up feeling sick to my stomach and covered in sweat. As I get up to use the
bathroom I think how tired I am of this. I also think about what Julian said about
dealing with things and moving on. I know these dreams are about the rape, even though
I told Julian they weren’t. I think I didn’t have these specific dreams before because
I had blocked it out and was so focused on Brady dying. My nightmares are mostly about
that, about my guilt over not forgiving him, and about me finding him. Now that I’ve
let the rape out into the universe, it wants to be addressed.

I can’t fall back asleep right away and when my alarm goes off at seven, I know I’ve
only had a few hours of sleep. I pick up my phone and place a call to Ellen right
away. I do it before I change my mind. Today is the day when I’m going to tell Ellen,
and my friends, what happened to me. I also want Julian there so I can get it all
out in one fell swoop. Two nights like this, with this nightmare, have left me in
tatters. I can’t keep doing this and talking about it is the only way I can think
of to make it stop.

I also send a text to Julian.

Alexa:
Hope your night was better than mine. Another nightmare…is there any way you’d be
willing to come with me to my session with Ellen tonight? I’m asking Mari and Shannon
too. I want to tell all of them what happened. I don’t want to be a victim anymore.

I know Julian will be up this early, because he always is. He calls me right back.

“I wasn’t talking about you being a victim last night. I told you that wasn’t about
you.”

“It could’ve been. I haven’t really dealt with this and I need to. I deny it but I
know I do. I can’t keep living like this. I don’t want to either.”

He pauses and doesn’t argue. “Yes, I’ll be there with you. Six-thirty?”

“Yes. And thank you. I’ll text you the address. Julian, how are you today?” I wish
he was there for me to hug. I miss him.

“Better. Thanks for asking.”

“I miss you. I could use a hug … and a kiss.”

“I miss you too. I’ve got another call coming in from the hotel so I need to get off,
but I’ll call you later, okay.”

“Okay, bye Julian.”

He clicks over before I finish saying his name and tears spring to my eyes. PMS, anxiety,
his absence—it’s a little overwhelming. I give myself a pep talk and hop in the shower.
When I get out I hear my phone beep. There’s a new voicemail from Ellen telling me
she’s okay with my plan and a text from Julian.

Julian:
I’m proud of you. I know it’s scary. Xoxo (not the real thing but best I can do right
now.)

I read the text and feel so much better.

Marissa and Shannon are both sitting in the kitchen when I come in. I make a cup of
coffee and sit with them at the table.

“Are you both free tonight for about an hour? If you are, I’d like you to come to
my session with Ellen tonight.”

They look at each other and then at me.

“What’s going on?” Shannon is looking at me skeptically.

“I just want to talk about something with you. It’s the anniversary of Brady’s death
this weekend and I’ve been really stressed. I know it’s not good to keep everything
inside so I thought this would be a good place to share some feelings I’m having.”

I feel awful lying to them but there isn’t any other way to get them to not start
asking me a million questions.

Marissa replies first. “I can go. Six-thirty?”

“Thank you. Yes, six-thirty. And by the way, Julian will be there too.”

“All of us and Julian. What’s really going on?” Shannon is usually the one to see
through my B.S.”

“What I said Shannon. I don’t feel like talking about it over and over again.”

Shannon agrees to come but still doesn’t look like she believes me.

To try and convince them, I mention Luke’s phone call yesterday. They agree I don’t
need to go to West Palm, but like me, they’re curious about what Brady’s mom wants.

I get to the trailer at nine. They’re almost done moving everything from the trailer
into the building and I walk over and peek at my new office. It’s really nice and
I can’t keep from smiling. The floors, bookcases, and woodwork are done in a color
I’d call Café con Leche and the walls are off-white. It’s very tropical-looking with
a mixture of green tones and pale browns in the artwork and side chairs. I have a
window that faces the pool and outdoor patio areas. It’s not an ocean-front view but
it’s still so much better than the trailer. Lauren’s office is right next door and
Serena is on the other side of Lauren.

Across the hallway, facing the ocean, is a luxury office for the new head sales person,
and basically my new boss, Diego Castenada. He’s a new hire from a large property
management company based in Costa Rica, with properties all over South America, Mexico,
and the Caribbean. Apparently nobody at W&M thought we were qualified to sell properties
priced over ten million dollars, so they hired him to handle the big buyers. I get
it, I guess. We have a lot of buyers from Latin America and apparently he has a lot
of contacts and a lot of experience. He’s starting on Monday and we’re all curious
to see what all the hoopla is about.

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