Chapter 43
forty-three
. . .
Bex
Nick’s dad showing up to the practice facility—again—only serves to remind me how infrequently my parents call me. How I’m always the one to reach out. How when I finally do, I’m chided for not calling sooner.
It’s not like the phone doesn’t work both ways. They’re both perfectly capable of picking up the phone and calling me.
But they don’t. They won’t.
Wyatt has gone fully no contact. They don’t even mention him on our calls. I’m always the one to bring up how he’s doing.
I can do this. This doesn’t have to be permanent. It’s just a mute—it’s not a full block.
But it’s the first step.
Nick sits beside me on the couch, my hand in his. The steady stroke of his thumb roving over the back of my hand soothes my frazzled nerves.
“You don’t have to do this,” he murmurs. “I’ll support you no matter what you decide.”
“I really think I do.”
My thumb hovers over my mother’s contact, but when I try to swipe it to the left, my finger stutters, and for some reason, it starts dialing.
A loud dial tone echoes through the room, and I shriek, nearly dropping the phone.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he says. “You can hang up at any time.”
I stare at the red End Call button, but my hand doesn’t want to cooperate, because I can’t seem to press it.
The line rings and rings. Once, twice, three times…
And then a click sounds. I hold my breath. Did she actually answer?
“Hello, you’ve reached the voicemail of—”
I exhale heavily. This time, I’m able to stab at the screen and end the call. I don’t need to leave her a message she’ll never respond to. I don’t need to keep putting out olive branches that go unanswered, unloved, and unappreciated.
“Bex Marie,” Nick whispers. “You can do this.”
Wyatt is happier without our parents in his life. Vanessa cut off her parents when she went to college. Sven has no relationship with his family. Robby’s parents disowned him. Sadie’s family is toxic. Riley grew up alone in the foster system.
What does it say that all my friends come from dysfunctional families? Are we the problem? Or did we find each other because of them? Maybe we’re all seeking that type of unconditional support that’s supposed to come from the people who love us most.
It sucks that our parents aren’t the ones who fit that bill. Maybe that’s why we’ve found each other. We’ve found our own families.
Wyatt and Elsy.
Vanessa and Sven.
Luke.
Ceci.
Nick.
“I want to do this,” I tell him. “But I physically can’t be the one to do it.”
His dark green eyes search mine, and when he realizes what I’m asking, he nods in sympathy. “Do you want me to?”
“Please.” My plea comes out weak.
I am not weak. This is what they’ve reduced me to. This is what I’ve become.
He takes the phone from my hand, and when I nod, he swipes his finger across the screen until the mute button shows up.
No.
I am not weak. I am not passive.
Snatching the phone out of his grasp, I steady myself with a deep breath.
And then I mute my mother, once and for all.
“How are you feeling?” he murmurs, eyes locked on mine.
“I don’t know yet.”
I pull up my father’s contact, just for good measure. It’s considerably easier to mute him.
“One more,” Nick says.
Confused, I tilt my head. “Who else?”
“Call Barbara.”
My therapist.
“Set up an appointment. It doesn’t have to be today.
But you’ll need to talk this out,” he continues.
“I’m happy to support you. You know I’m always here for you, whatever you need.
But this is a little beyond my scope. When you process your big feelings, I want someone equipped to help there with you. ”
Feeling small, I nod. “I can do that.”
He tugs me into his lap, and I straddle him, tossing my phone to the side.
“I love you, Bex Marie,” he says.
Bex Marie. Not Rebecca Lynn.
This isn’t going to be a quick process. It’s not like ripping off a Band-Aid.
Putting myself back together will take time.
But every time he calls me this pet name, it slowly echoes in my head.
Rewrites the neurotransmitter pathways inside my brain.
Convinces me that I’m more than a fuckup of wasted potential.