Chapter 28
Jason
Vanessa looks like she wants the earth to swallow her whole. I’m inclined to pull her into my arms and tell her all is forgiven, but my brain is acting as a gatekeeper tonight, and it’s begging me not to let her back in my life.
So instead I wait—and try not to think about the memories we made this summer.
Taking a deep, weary breath, she flips a milk crate and perches on its edge.
Does she think she’s going to change my mind?
Do I want her to?
Fuck, this woman’s got me confused.
The sadness clouding her features nearly makes me cave, but I resolve to do nothing but listen to what she has to say.
Finally, she wraps her arms around herself and leans forward.
“Growing up, my parents never had much, and that was okay. They loved Lisa and me. They made sure we had clothes. Delicious food. A place to sleep each night. And yeah, we didn’t go on family vacations, but we had family game nights.
And family movie nights. And my dad even learned how to roller-skate because we wanted to have family roller-skating Sundays too.
I didn’t need anything else, but my parents wanted more for us.
For me. For Lisa. Pretty early on, they realized I was academically gifted, so they put a ton of effort into getting me into private school.
I tested well. And I guess I aced the interviews, too, because the next thing I know I was enrolled in grade school at McGreeley. ”
I set down my tool bag and grab a milk crate of my own so I can sit and face her. “I’m listening.”
She straightens, rolls her shoulders, and continues. “I don’t know if you’ve heard of it.”
“I have.”
“Well, then you know it’s where all the rich kids go.
The ones whose grandfathers started Fortune 500 companies and had buildings and libraries and schools named after them.
Anyway, I hated it. Because I wasn’t like those kids.
Didn’t know the first thing about a proper place setting.
Didn’t play lacrosse. Had never been on an airplane. I felt so out of place.”
I want her to know I’m willing to meet her halfway. I want her to know I care. Because I can’t just turn off my feelings that easily. So I ask questions. “Did you tell your parents you were unhappy?”
She shakes her head as a tear slips down her cheek.
“Never. I didn’t have the heart to. You see, my parents were ridiculously proud of me, and I didn’t want them to feel bad, so I sucked it up.
And it was fine for a while. Unpleasant but fine.
Until I revealed to a classmate that I was poor, not realizing that factoid would make me a social pariah.
Once that tidbit got out, I couldn’t escape the teasing and taunting.
All because my family didn’t have as much money as their families did.
I wasn’t the only one either. Anyone who didn’t fit the mold became an outcast. We were never invited to parties.
Never invited to sleepovers. The girls would make plans at the lunch table in front of me and joke that they couldn’t invite me because I’d steal something from their homes. ”
“Kids can be so cruel.”
“They can. But through that experience, I discovered my superpower: pretending I didn’t care.
The truth was, I cared so much that I ached with it, but I decided those assholes would never know their words were hurting me.
And after a while, the teasing stopped. Because in their minds, it wasn’t working.
They couldn’t get a rise out of me, no matter how hard they tried.
I convinced myself that I’d learned some valuable lessons from that experience: Mainly, that people will use what you tell them against you, so it’s safest to play your cards close to your chest. When you let people know your true feelings, you leave yourself vulnerable.
And when you’re vulnerable, someone has power over you. ”
“You’re talking about your boss.”
“He’s part of this, yeah.”
“Not everyone operates that way, though.”
“Well, most of the people I’ve dealt with have only reinforced those lessons from way back when.” Her lower lips trembles. “Do you want to know my great shame?”
“Only if you want to share it.”
She takes a deep breath, then blows it out on a sigh.
“When I was in my first year of college, I came home from Philly one weekend with a classmate and my new boyfriend. I figured I’d introduce them to my parents.
But when I brought them to my neighborhood, to see where I grew up, they started making snide comments.
Made me feel uncomfortable. It was like I was back at McGreeley all over again.
And when we got to my parents’ store, my boyfriend and friend fell over themselves laughing.
Said the place was so much worse than anything they’d seen on social media.
By that point, we were in the store, but they didn’t know my parents owned it.
They were grabbing drinks, and I was trailing behind them, collapsing into myself with each step.
They were talking nonstop and slapped the money on the counter as they walked to the door.
My mother and Lisa were there. My dad was somewhere in the back. Do you know what I did?”
I think I know where she’s going with this, but it’s clear she needs to speak it out loud. “Tell me.”
“Nothing. I looked my family dead in the eyes and left. Made up some silly excuse to explain why my friends couldn’t go to my apartment, and then we headed to my boyfriend’s parents’ place on the Upper West Side.”
“Vanessa.”
She sniffles as she wipes away her tears. “See? I’m terrible. I think a piece of me died that day. A piece of my family died that day too. And do you want to know how I know they’ve never forgiven me?”
“How?”
“Because we’ve never talked about it. Not a single word has been exchanged between us about that incident.
Sure, they dance around it, but what could I possibly say?
I didn’t know how to explain myself then, and I don’t know what I’d tell them now.
None of them knew I’d been bullied at McGreeley, because I didn’t want to burden them with that information.
They’d worked so hard to do the right thing, to give me this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to change the trajectory of my future.
How could I come to them and complain about mean comments in the school courtyard?
In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t that big of a deal.
Not when they were struggling to put food on the table.
To keep the store open. They didn’t know I’d failed to acknowledge them because I was reliving a really painful part of my childhood. ”
“They love you, Vanessa. And you were experiencing trauma. They would have understood.”
“But I don’t even understand it myself. How does someone do that?
And live with themselves? And not look in the mirror every day and be disappointed with the reflection staring back at them?
And the icing on the cake? I came clean to my boyfriend afterward.
Told him what I’d done. I don’t know why.
Maybe I was looking for him to absolve my guilt.
To tell me I wasn’t as awful as I thought I was.
But he only confirmed that I’d done a terrible thing, and then he said he couldn’t ever be with someone like that. ”
“This is the same asshole who looked down on your family and your neighborhood. I wouldn’t give anything he said any weight.”
“I understand that now. But back then, it wasn’t about what he said. It’s what he did that messed with my head. I opened up to him. I made myself vulnerable. And he threw it in my face.”
“Which is what you expected me to do if you told me about the stunt.”
“Yeah,” she says, lowering her gaze. “I couldn’t imagine a scenario in which telling you wouldn’t be used against me.
Because if I told you the truth, you’d never forgive me.
Not really. Sure, you might convince yourself that you could get beyond it, but it would always be this thing between us.
Something you’d hold over my head. The dynamic between us would change.
I’d be walking on eggshells, trying to make amends for what I did.
And you’d throw it back in my face whenever you weren’t happy with me. ”
I get it now, and still I can’t imagine the pain she’s been through.
My heart hurts for her. For that little girl who felt like she was less than her peers.
For the teenager who worried what her college classmates would think of her upbringing.
For the woman who was toyed with by someone who claimed to care for her.
But none of that changes the one fact that matters: If I hadn’t found out about the scheme, she would have kept it from me forever.
Our entire relationship would have been built on a lie.
“I wanted so badly for you to tell me. I told myself that if you would just confide in me, I’d be satisfied.
I wanted to believe you were different from my father.
Different from Elyse. Convinced myself that I could have gotten over all the bullshit if you had just blurted it out without any prompting from me.
And I gave you so many chances to tell me the truth, but you never did.
So I told myself that was my silly hang-up.
And maybe in a sense it is. At the end of the day, though, I just hate being duped.
Period. And even giving you a chance to be in my life feels like I’m being a chump.
Like I’m inviting you to treat me like one. ”
She nods, plainly fighting back a new wave of tears, her eyes puffy and red.
“How you feel is how you feel. I can’t change that.
But I do regret not telling you, more than you could ever know.
I kept something from you that would have affected how you felt about me, and that was unfair.
I guess we don’t make the best decisions when the things we want most are at risk.
More often than not, we just dig ourselves into deeper holes protecting something that wasn’t solidly ours to begin with.
The fact that you knew what I was doing the whole time just adds another level of fuckery I can’t even begin to unpack. ”
I wince at the reminder of my part in this fiasco. “Yeah, neither of us is blameless, that’s for sure.”
“Right. And listen, I’m not telling you all of this because I think we can pick up where we left off.
I realize that’s not how this is going to go.
But I wanted you to know that I wasn’t simply trying to save my own ass.
I was trying to save what I thought was a chance to be with someone I cared about.
It was foolish. And selfish. But I never meant to play fast and loose with your heart.
And if it isn’t clear by now, please know that I’m truly sorry.
For the scheme. For not telling you what I’d been up to.
For not allowing myself to be vulnerable with you.
For not allowing myself to be vulnerable with anyone, really.
That’s my issue. And I need to work on that more than anything else.
” She slaps the tops of her thighs and rises to her feet.
“Hang on, not so fast.”
Her shoulders drop. “You have questions. Of course you do.”
“Yeah, wouldn’t you?”
Her mouth twitches. “I’d be all over this like I was running a congressional hearing.”
“Then you get why I’m curious. So tell me about the scheme. How’d you come up with it?”
She worries her bottom lip before she answers. “I did it in college. It was my side hustle.”
“Seriously?”
“Dead serious. After that whole thing went down with my family and my boyfriend, I was numb. Going through the motions. The money, though. It was too good to pass up. And I wanted to send whatever I made to my family. To try to make up for what I’d done.”
“And that shit worked? The scheme, I mean.”
“More times than even I thought it would.”
“So, what? Lisa asked you to do it for her too?”
“Yeah. I told her it might not work since we were siblings.”
“That’s a big wrinkle.”
“I know. If I hadn’t been so concerned about making Lisa happy, I would have refused. But…”
“You felt you owed her. Because of the incident at the store. Because you left and never looked back.”
She shrugs. “Something like that.”
“It’s a terrible plan. A person would have to be clueless to fall for it.”
“You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.” Wearing a nervous smile, she adds, “You have to admit, it was fun while it lasted, though.”
Fun doesn’t even begin to cover what it was.
Even now I can feel the pull between us.
Can imagine us being this comfortable together for years to come.
Can picture myself being the person who’s privy to all her secrets.
Fun is a fling. Vanessa and I could be so much more.
But she’s doing what she always does: hiding her true feelings because anything else would make her seem powerless in the moment.
So I show her how it’s done. Because she tried today, and her heart deserves to be cared for.
“It was more than fun, but it just wasn’t meant to be. ”
“Yeah, I get it,” she says, her expression sobering as she surveys my handiwork around the store. “It’s looking great, by the way. The floor, especially. My parents are so impressed they’re ready to adopt you.”
“It’s my pleasure to help.”
She raises a brow. “Still?”
I nod. “Still.”
There’s so much more I could say too:
I still want you.
I still care about you.
I still want us to build a future together.
I’m still wary of you, although I’m willing to try.
But I don’t say any of those things—because Vanessa isn’t the only one dealing with a past they’re trying to forget.