15. Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fourteen
Lisette
“Y ou’re drunk,” Bay deadpans.
“I’m tipsy. Very different,” I counter but her eyes only narrow. “Let’s talk about you. How’s the post-abortion depression going?” I smile over at her as I sit up on the couch.
“No, Lis.” Her eyes drown in understanding, forcing me to look back at my wine glass. “We’re talking about you right now. Why did you feel like you couldn’t call me or your brother before making this choice?”
I lay back on the couch, biting my cheek as I try to find the right words.
“We can sit here in silence all day, babe,” she nearly whispers.
I pull in a deep breath before turning to her. “Sire is just going to tell me to stop hanging out with Harmony or to limit our time together and eliminate all talk about her mom because of how it makes me feel, but I can’t do that to her.”
“Oh.” Bay nods in understanding. “So instead, you’ve been sipping on wine all week, letting her mom be the reason you throw away six hard-earned months of sobriety?” Sarcasm drips from her tone as she whips her dark curls over her shoulder.
I look up at her, giving her a knowing look.
“Do you think I’m wrong?” she asks and it doesn’t sound rhetorical; it’s as if she really wants to know.
“Yeah.” I shrug. “Those six months don’t—” I cut myself off as I try to find the right word. “I’m aware that they matter. I’m glad that I was clean. It just doesn’t feel like it’s worth anything.”
My eyes meet hers. “Like… in the grand scheme of things, six-months sober compared to eleven years of addiction doesn’t seem like an accomplishment.” I shrug. “It makes me feel dirty thinking about it.”
“Like you hate yourself,” Bay voices my exact thoughts before sitting beside me. “You’re not dirty, though. It’s not six-months clean compared to eleven years of addiction. You were six-months sober period . When we go to a meeting we don’t say ‘Hi, I’m Bay and I’m six years sober but I’ve been an addict for nine years, so fuck me, I’m worthless’ do we?” She shoves my shoulder with hers.
I look over at those deep blue eyes and her pretty smile. “No…”
“Exactly.” She shrugs. “You’re not dirty. The world thinks we suck for having shitty genes and generational trauma, but screw the world. You definitely need to wash your hair and trim your ends, but you’re not dirty.”
I stifle a laugh as I shove her away but she goes on, more serious.
“I know you think you deserve to feel like this. You think you deserved being abandoned as a child, so you’re letting yourself soak in all this hurt but you don’t deserve this shit.”
I swallow the bitter taste in my mouth as I look forward and I almost reach for my glass until it hits me that maybe she’s right. I think a part of me deserves this, but I use every bit of my strength to think of the part of me that doesn’t deserve this.
The me who makes my siblings laugh. The me that Isabelle loves being around. The me that Jackson trusts around his kid. The me that Bay isn’t tired of yet, even after eight years of friendship.
I look over at her again and her eyes are on the wine glass. When I met Bay my freshman year of college, she shocked me with how much I ended up liking her. At the tour they, told us we’ll find our lifelong friends on campus and I didn’t believe them for a second.
I was never good at keeping friends. I became friends with Sire because we were neighbors and hated being home, so we sat outside together for hours on end. Then we met the twins because of him, but with Bay, I did that all on my own.
She sat with me during lunch at orientation and I thought I made it clear that I wanted to sit alone, but she either lacked social clues or outright ignored my glare because she sat right next to me with her big smile and frizzy curls.
It was way too hot to wear long pants that day, but while everyone took one glance at my scars and stayed away, Bay sat with me. When someone was staring at my leg and she cursed them out, I knew I’d be trying to keep her around for a while. All these years I’ve been waiting for her to wake up and be done with me, but the day never came.
She pulls in a deep breath, dragging me out of my thoughts. “The post-abortion depression is still depressing.” She rests her head on my lap.
I pat her head. “Want a glass of wine? No baby means you can drink.”
She stifles a laugh before it slowly fades. “Do you think I could’ve raised a baby?”
“Absolutely not.” I tap her head again. “Didn’t you just learn that newborns can’t drink water?”
“ How was I supposed to know that?”
I stifle a laugh as I smooth out her long dark hair. “Assuming you had the money to pay your rent yesterday, you now have less than two hundred dollars in your bank account. You still live with a roommate whom you have a very toxic relationship with and the man who got you pregnant didn’t even give you money for the Plan B and then left you.”
She looks up at me, her eyes torn, but I can see the understanding in them.
“Anything is possible so, yes, you could have raised that baby but at what cost? You know you’re not mentally stable to raise a baby. And postpartum? Ugh.” I shake my head at the thoughts. “Motherhood seems like a shit show.”
“Maybe that’s why your mom left you.” She smiles up at me and my jaw drops before I break into a laugh.
“Too soon.” I shove her off my lap and she laughs harder in return.
When our laughs sober, we both lean back on my couch before she speaks up. “Maybe a baby would’ve made me get my life together. Give me something to live for and shit.”
I rest my head on her lap this time. “Key word being maybe.”
She looks down at me.
“I think you’re going to be an amazing mom one day, but what if you didn’t get your life together?”
“I would’ve.” She shakes her head at herself before a tear spills from her eyes.
Reaching up, I wipe her freckled cheek. I take hold of her hand before squeezing it. “Your hormones are all fucked up,” I remind her. “You sat with your options and thought very hard about the choice you made. You can’t change the choice you made, but you can change what you do now to make sure you’re not in that position again. Our actions are only mistakes if we don’t learn from them. Don’t let the abortion be a mistake. Get your shit together so you can be a good mom.”
She nods in return before wiping her cheek. “You give great advice when you’re drunk.”
I roll my eyes at her as I push her hand away. “I’m tipsy,” I counter.
“And you’ve been tipsy since last week when you found out your bio mom was sober for half your childhood.”
I pull in a deep breath as I sit up. A very small part of me is proud I’ve been able to avoid my family long enough for them not to notice, but I quickly feel like shit for making up lies and avoiding my brother.
“I just needed some time to sit in it.” I turn to her now. “I’m done feeling like this. Why do you think I called you today and told you?”
She watches me carefully as I continue to convince her that I’m fine.
“I’m going to go to a meeting tomorrow and I’ll be back on track.”
She nods in return before my phone starts ringing. I lean over her, and when I see it’s Jackson calling, I bring my phone to my ear.
“What do you want, Jackson Jones? I’m trying to plead my innocence here.”
His deep laugh sounds through the other end and it surprisingly makes me feel a little better. “Nice hearing from you, too, Lissy,” he replies and I roll my eyes at him.
“How many times am I going to tell you, only your kid can call me that?”
“I still don’t get why the nickname is exclusive to her.”
I don’t answer but he goes on as if he wasn’t expecting me to.
“Who are you pleading your innocence to? And please don’t tell me it’s a cop.” He sounds exhausted and I can’t help but laugh.
“It’s not but don’t worry. My mom is the DA, so I think I’ll be okay.”
He chuckles on the other end. “I’m just calling to let you know you don’t have to come over for tutoring today. We’re going out.”
“ What? What do you mean?”
“Is that an issue?” He sounds confused now.
“Yes, it’s an issue. I need to get back to my routine or I’ll fall off the deep end and I’m not having a good week. Do you want me to fall off the deep end? Do you want my cause of death to be Jackson decided to cancel the highlight of Lisette’s week ?”
He chuckles before going quiet, then: “Is tutoring really your only reason to get out of bed?”
“No,” I partly lie.
“But it’s the highlight of your week?”
“Yeah,” I answer truthfully this time. His daughter is a handful but that just means she’s a good distraction. I haven’t been drinking on days I tutor her, besides today, but that’s only because I was nervous about confessing to Bay.
I can’t have my three-hour distraction cut from my day, especially not now.
Jackson hums in thought. “Well, I’m not canceling my afternoon with her so she can study with you. She’ll see it as punishment and it’s a tradition that we go apple picking, so just come with us and you can read with her for a bit when we get back.”
I almost make a joke about them having a corny tradition until my brain catches up to where they’re going. “Did you say apple picking?” I sit up.
“Yeah, I can pick you up in ten if you’re free now.”
“Yeah, I’ll be ready.” I rise from my seat before hanging up, desperate for an escape and a distraction because if I leave myself to think for more than five minutes, I’m going to want to drink.
“Woah.” Bay looks between me and my phone. “Who got your mood changing so quickly?”
I roll my eyes at her before wiping my smile. “Not who. What .” My smile returns despite my efforts. “I’m going apple picking.”
Bay shakes her head at me as she follows me into my room. “What is your deal with apples?”
“It’s the tree,” I clarify. “They symbolize many things, but—”
“The redemption and love sticks with you,” she finishes for me. “Yeah, you talk about this all the time. I still don’t get it. You’re so spiritual for someone so depressed.”
“Screw you.” I let out a laugh as I walk into my closet for a change of clothes.
“Are you going with your brothers?”
“No. One of their friends.”
“Hold up.” Bay is leaning against my closet door now. “You’re fucking your brother’s friend and he’s still breathing?”
I tilt my head back with a laugh as she watches me, her mouth ajar. “I am not sleeping with him.”
She looks like she doesn’t believe a word I’m spitting.
“Trust me, you’d know if I was sleeping with him because I wouldn’t shut up about it. This man is a hot dad. You’ll be the first to know when he’s in my pants.”
“He’s a dad ?” She lights up at my words. “Of course, you and your daddy issues want to sleep with him.” She shakes her head as she squints her eyes at me.
I’m hysterical in my closet and I hear her laughing behind me. “I never said I want to sleep with him, I just said I’ll tell you if I do sleep with him.” While I’m constantly making flirty comments to Jackson, I don’t mean any of them and he knows that. I just like getting a reaction out of him, and since I have daddy issues, I also like when he tells me to stop doing it. I like when he tells me what to do in general.
“You said when he’s in your pants.”
I pause, replaying my own words—and damn, she’s right.
“I don’t blame you. You say he’s hot. He has an offspring. He’s your brother’s friend, which makes this whole thing dirty and forbidden. Ugh.” She lets out a sigh as she fans herself. “I think I want to sleep with him. You should share.”
I roll my eyes at her with a smile as I change my shirt. “He’s so type A, he probably doesn’t even do threesomes.” I turn to her. “Now that I think about it, he’s probably not good in bed. I can totally see him being all soft and kissing my scars and shit.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “God forbid a man be kind to you in the bedroom and show affection.” She turns more serious and I flip her off.
“Have you met the mom?”
“His or his offspring’s?”
“The kid’s,” she clarifies.
“She isn’t in the picture.” I shrug my pants off before holding a different pair in front of me in the mirror. I tilt my head to the side and decide to try the shorts on.
“This is actually perfect. There’ll be no baby mama drama. What are you waiting for?”
“Did you ignore the part where I said I don’t want to sleep with him?”
“You don’t want to, but you don’t not want to.” She sends me a knowing look.
I don’t disagree because she’s right. If the opportunity presents itself, I certainly won’t turn it down. Jackson is hot, and I’m sure after a while he can get the job done.
“How many kids does he have?”
“Just one girl.”
Bay smiles at my words. “A girl dad. It keeps getting better.”
“What’s so good about girl dads?”
“They’re soft,” she says as if she’s stating the obvious. “He’ll spoil the shit out of you.”
“Well, he’s rich as shit, so I’m sure he can afford to.”
Bay shakes her head at me as she throws her hands up in defeat. “You are wasting so much potential right now, Lisette. I am demanding you give this man a chance.”
“He has not said he wanted a chance with me.” I break into a laugh as I grab my shoes and walk past her. “Back the hell off playing Cupid. I thought you of all people would suggest I steer clear of relationships in the state I’m in. Especially with a kid involved. We just decided motherhood was scary.”
“No,” she counters. “You and your mommy issues decided motherhood was scary.” She follows after me and flops on my bed as I work my boots on.
“You’re right, though,” she continues when I don’t reply. “This can go up in flames very quickly… the fire might feel good though.” She says the last part more to herself.
“Yeah, when doesn’t it feel good when it’s a man who’s good to you?” Relationships ending because the man is too good and you’re not in a good mental space will always be worse than ending it because he treats you like shit.
It hurts so much more when they’re perfect and you’re the problem. You have no one to blame but yourself.