Chapter 20
LEO
The next morning
“Leo.” I hear Meredith’s voice, muffled in the distance. I briefly open an eye, just enough to see a blurry outline of a person across the room, then close it again. My memory is a haze, flickering in and out of consciousness as fragmented visions flash through my mind.
“Where’s mum?” seven-year-old Andrew cries, standing in the kitchen with his stuffed monkey and baby blanket.
“She’s gone,” I hear my ten-year-old self say, angrily.
“When is she coming home?”
“She’s not coming home, stupid!” I yell, earning a glare from Chloe.
Her eyes well up with tears. “Don’t yell at him, Leo. It’s not his fault she’s gone.” Andrew starts crying as Chloe tries to console him, wrapping her arms around him and rubbing the top of his head. She whispers softly, “Shhh. It’s alright. Leo’s not mad at you, no one is mad at you.”
Yes it is, I think. It’s his fault, it’s all of our fault. She didn’t want us. She hated us. She hated being our mum.
“FUCK HER!” I scream, my first time using the F-word. “I fucking hate her!” The second time using it, my eyes fill with tears, threatening to drown my face. Needing to throw or break something, I pick up the closest thing to me, my Discman, that sits on the counter. I scream as I throw it with all my might into the nearest wall, as if somehow this control over something will take the pain away, make it make sense.
The cops had left an hour prior. We drove her away… I drove her away.
“Leo… Leo…” Struggling to open my eyes, I see Meredith standing over me holding a glass. “I made you your hangover cure,” she says patiently. She’s blurry; I’m peeking through two tiny slits, trying to gather my whereabouts. “Hello… Leo.” She nudges me. “Did you hear me?”
I clear my throat and rub my eyes. “No, I’m sorry. What? Am I at your house?”
“Sit up, Leo.” I feel her tugging at me, trying to lift me. “Yes, you’re at my house.”
“I’m up…” I say groggily, the effort making my head throb even more. I reluctantly sit and open my eyes, straining to bring them into focus. “Fuuuuuck.” My head is pounding. I feel like absolute shit. I take the glass uneasily from Meredith, unsure if I should be apologizing for something, as I can’t remember a damn thing that happened last night after I left Vivian’s.
Fuck… Vivian.
“Do I owe you an apology?” I ask wearily.
Meredith is tight-lipped. She glares at me like a mother about to scold her child. “No,” she says finally, shaking her head. “No, you don’t owe me an apology.” There is a hint of laughter in her voice.
“What happened?” I pinch the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut. “Why am I on your couch?”
“Is there anything you want to talk about?” she asks, avoiding my question, and takes a seat next to me. “I know this time of year can bring certain memories back for you… that it can be hard.”
“God, Meredith.” I scowl at her. “No. I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” She looks at me as if she knows something I don’t know. “There’s nothing going on in there that’s bothering you?” She gestures upward, toward my brain. “About your mom?” she offers .
“Why are you asking about my mum? You know that hasn’t been an issue in years,” I say, feeling paranoid as I vaguely recall the dream I was just having.
“Well, you were on the couch mumbling that you fucking hate her, and I know the only person you’ve ever hated is your mom… and Rachel… well, and maybe Brian for a bit too.” She laughs softly. “So which one were you dreaming about?”
I run a hand through my hair, trying to shake off the lingering remnants of the dream. “I don’t remember,” I lie, not wanting to delve into it.
“Hmm. I don’t believe you,” she says.
“Ugh.” I grip my face in my hand as if I can push the memory away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
She scoots closer, practically on top of me, and pats my knee. “Too bad,” she says, “because we’re going to talk about it.”
I sigh, the weight of the conversation pressing down on me. Why does she always have to push? Can’t she see I’m barely holding it together?
My mum had left a week before Christmas. What kind of mum leaves her family right before Christmas? A very sick one, I know that now… but at ten years old?
She never wanted to be a mum. Hated the whole thing. We always had an au pair from France who practically raised us. We spent summers in Paris, my mum never wanting to be around us. She didn’t even try to hide her distaste for us or my dad. She was an alcoholic, an addict, and she slept around.
It took years of therapy, and a lot of breaking it down in grad school, to realize it was never about me. It was her, plain and simple. She had all the money, freedom, and distractions in the world, and she was still miserable. She wanted Dad’s attention, but he was barely there. When he was around, he was a good dad but a shitty husband—a workaholic with his own affairs.
I get it now, the dysfunction of it all, but when you’re ten, rejection from your own mum cuts deep. It fucks with you in ways you never fully shake, no matter how much you analyze it .
Reluctantly, I respond, “It was my mum,” I say somberly, my face permanently planted into the palm of my hand.
“What do you think’s drumming up the past?” she asks, but I get the feeling she already has an idea of the answer, which irritates the living hell out of me.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I have a feeling you might think that you do, though, yeah?”
A wicked grin spreads across her face. “Well, now that you’ve asked…” She pauses. “I think it has something to do with Vivian.”
“And why do you think that?”
“Because you were a mess last night,” she states, wide-eyed, her eyebrows raised. “You showed up here at midnight drunker than a skunk, Leo. Piper opened the door, and you came waltzing in here, rambling on about all sorts of things with Vivian… Vivian this and Vivian that, how you had fucked everything up. God knows what happened; you weren’t making any sense, and every word slurred together. You went straight to the liquor cabinet and poured yourself a glass… a glass of tequila, which I was able to get out of your hands after you had drunk half of it.” I grimace, and she continues. “You then proceeded to want to”—she makes air quotes—“‘talk.’ Luckily, I talked Piper into getting back to bed and letting me handle you. She had a staff meeting at 8 AM.”
“God, I’m sorry. I’ll apologize to Piper when I see her.”
“Oh, I’m not done,” she cuts me off. “I sat here with you while you rambled. An hour later, you puked in the kitchen sink.”
I scrunch my face. “I did?”
She nods again.
“At least I didn’t pee on the wall again… I didn’t, right?” I ask hopefully.
“No, you didn’t pee on the wall,” she says, nudging me lightly. “I won’t push you, but I think we should talk about it.” She flashes me a playful grin. “You know I’ll figure it out eventually, or worse, I'll try to guess what’s going on and constantly bother you about it until I get close.”
“ That, I cannot deal with,” I say, chuckling. “Okay,” I hesitate, “but I don’t know what I was talking about last night. The last thing I remember was leaving Vivian’s house. Probably around 10:30. We’d had dinner and went to the Christmas market.”
“You had dinner and went to the Christmas Market… that’s it? Were you two drinking? How did you get annihilated in just ninety minutes?”
“Yeah, I had a couple of drinks with Viv.”
“Well, if that’s the last thing you remember, then you must have had more than a couple.”
“Oh wait. It’s coming back to me. I went to my house. Yeah. I went to my house and took some shots of whiskey, and then I went for a walk… I don’t remember whether I was planning to come here or not. I may have stopped at a few bars along the way,” I shake my head in utter disbelief. “I don’t know, and then I guess I ended up here. I’m sorry for disrupting your night with Piper and for the inconvenience… and drinking your tequila… and for puking in the sink.” I run my hands through my hair. “I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m concerned more than anything. I haven’t seen you that drunk since you were in your twenties.”
“Well you didn’t come to Mexico,” I say laughing.
She laughs. “Seriously, I’m worried about you. This isn’t like you. You’re one of the most responsible drinkers I’ve ever met. I’ve only known you to get this drunk a handful of times. You weren’t just drunk, you were plastered… and upset.”
“I know. I didn’t intentionally get smashed. Does that make it any better?”
She holds her thumb and index finger an inch away from each other, “A little,” she says. “Can we unpack this? Why did you leave Vivian’s and immediately take shots when you got to your house?”
“Ugh,” I groan, “don’t make me talk about it.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “You know you can talk to me,” she puts her hand on my knee and gives it a small shake. “I’m your person, Leo. Your in case of emergency person, your friend, your therapist—well you don’t actually pay for my words of wisdom… but I’m the person you tell your deepest darkest secrets to, that’s me.” She gives me a playful nudge. “Come on, what happened? ”
I glance at her while sinking back into the sofa, my head resting on the back of the pillow, staring at the ceiling straight above. She knows me too well. She really is my person, has been for a long time. Mer and I met at University. We were in the same PhD program, and she’s the only one who knows about my mum. Michael knows she died when I was ten, but Mer… she knows everything. I’ve never kept anything from her and honestly, there’s no point trying. She’s insightful as hell, and she’ll eventually find out anyway.
“I don’t know. Last night was… intense. We made-out. Things got heated, and I wanted it to go further, but I freaked out… I pulled away. I was scared of what it would mean, scared to care about her… of losing her, scared of fucking everything up.”
She nods, listening intently. “And that’s why you drank yourself into oblivion?”
“Yeah, I guess so. When I stopped, she was really upset with me. She told me to get the fuck out…” I groan, giving Meredith a sidelong glance.
She nods in understanding, urging me to go on.
“She didn’t want to talk, said she could hardly look at me. I just… I didn’t know how to handle it. Seeing her, wanting her, feeling out of control—not just emotionally, but physically, too. It was like my body had a mind of its own. God, I’ve spent the last thirteen years avoiding anything that could make me feel this way, it’s been my coping mechanism, and now it’s all backfiring.”
I take a swig of the concoction Meredith made for me. My friend Brian and I discovered the hangover cure our first year in college, and I’ve shared it with all of my close friends since then.
I bring a hand up to the back of my neck and press hard against the base of my skull, releasing the tension that’s pounding through my head. “Vivian shared some things about her past a few weeks ago. It’s heavy stuff. She’s a champ, though—doing everything right, taking every step to heal.”
I pause, looking out the window as I gather my thoughts. “But she needs and wants connection, while I’ve spent my life avoiding that kind of connection. We’re dealing with the exact opposite issues, fearing the exact opposite things. She’s lost so much already, I would never want to add to her grief.” I lean back, frustration bubbling up. “And I don’t ever want to know how that feels again. Love has only ever brought me pain. I don’t know if I even want to try.”
I shake my head. “God, what do I do? I’ve never wanted a relationship to worry about, and I definitely don’t want to get married. These days, you’ve got a 50/50 chance of it ending in divorce. In my practice, I see couples every day trying to patch up broken marriages, dealing with infidelity, resentment, and a complete lack of communication. Of that fifty percent, only a handful of them are truly happy. The odds are stacked against us all. I’m not a fool; I don’t gamble with shitty odds unless I’m willing to lose it all.”
Meredith looks at me with a mixture of sympathy and determination. “I get it. Your fears and concerns are valid, and I know where they’re coming from. But as we grow, things that used to work for us can stop being effective. You know this. Coping mechanisms that kept us safe can become barriers. You’ve done the work before, but it doesn’t mean it’s over. It’s about recognizing when it’s time to revisit it—to go back and work through things as they evolve, as you evolve.
I shake my head adamantly. “No. I don’t want to revisit that. That was brutal enough the first time.” The conviction in my voice surprises even me, the words rushing out faster than I intended.
Meredith’s eyes narrow, her keen insight already picking apart my defenses. “You know burying things doesn’t make them go away.”
Ignoring her, I glance around the cozy family room, the couch beneath me is comfortable, yet I feel anything but relaxed. “I’ve been fine all these years, happy even, doing what I’ve been doing. Revisiting it would only open old wounds. I’m fine with my barriers.”
I can see Meredith wants to say something, but I forge ahead, needing to get it all out. “Plus, I’ve never wanted to be in a position where I could be a shitty boyfriend, or husband… or father.” The last word catches in my throat, an ache I can’t quite shake off. “The idea of fucking up someone else’s life scares the hell out of me. ”
Meredith remains silent, her gaze unwavering. I swallow hard, forcing myself to meet her eyes. “Or worse, having everything to lose and watching it all fall apart.” My heart races, the thought of Vivian creeping into my mind. “When something happens to a person you choose to share your life with, like Vivian, that’s… It feels reckless to love someone that much… to put so much hope into one person.”
She sighs, her eyes softening with understanding. “It’s not reckless to love someone. It’s human. And yes, there’s risk, but there’s also incredible reward. You can’t live your life in fear of what might happen. Nothing worth having comes easy. And honestly, when I see you with Vivian, you’re different. You’re more relaxed, more yourself. You laugh more, and you seem genuinely happy. She brings out a side of you that I haven’t seen in years. Don’t let fear hold you back from what could be an incredible future.”
I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of her words. “I’ve never felt stuck until now… Why would I want to change things when they have always worked out for me?”
She lifts a brow and purses her lips. “I think you know why.”
“Look, I’ll take what you’re saying into account. But for now, I need to focus on repairing the trust I broke with Vivian last night. That’s my priority.”
She places her hand on my back and rubs it softly. “Okay,” she says softly. “I’m not going to push you, but I’m here if you need anything.” She gets a playful look in her eye, “Now… can we please talk about how you kissed Vivian?” She grins. “So… how was it?”
I can’t help but smile. “It was… amazing.” I lean back into the sofa, running a hand through my hair as a laugh escapes my lips. “Honestly, it felt like everything just clicked. Like for a moment, all the shit I’ve been carrying around didn’t matter. I felt… free. She’s fucking incredible.” I look at Meredith, still grinning.
* * * * * * * * * *
I leave Meredith’s with no real clarification, only the desire to fix my friendship with Vivian. I pull out my phone to text her.
Leo: Viv… we need to talk. Can I come over?
I walk outside to get in my Uber, staring at the screen to see the status of my message turn to read as I fasten my seatbelt. The drive home is a blur, deep in thought and waiting for Vivian to text me back. It’s almost noon, I know she’s awake.
The Uber drops me off at the end of the street, and I run down the path of townhouses straight to Vivian’s door and pound on it.
My phone dings.
Vivian: I’m packing for my trip tomorrow. I am not ready to see you or talk to you. I have a date tonight, and then I leave early in the morning. Please respect my space, I will contact you when I am ready to talk… and I don’t know when that will be.
Jesus.
I have fucked things up more than I could have imagined. She just built a ten-foot wall, and there is nothing I can do but wait for her to come to me. “Ugh!” I groan in agony as I respond to her text.
Leo Viv, please… Don’t leave for the holidays with things like this. Please let me tell you how sorry I am… how much your friendship means to me. Please…
Vivian: Well that’s the problem, Leo. I don’t know how to just be your friend anymore. So please let me figure out what it is that I want, and process everything that has happened. I will get back to you after I have a chance to think about things… when I am ready. I need to see my therapist in Utah. I want you to know that I care about you. I just need some space.
I stare at the screen, my heart sinking. She needs space, but at least she said she cares about me. Maybe there’s still hope.
These next two weeks will feel like an eternity.