23. Chapter 23 #2
I glared at her. I didn’t know whether to scream or sob, but I needed to say what I came to say. “I’m going to get straight to the point, Mother. Ricardo hit on me. Your boyfriend. I left right away, of course.”
Jacqueline stilled, staring into my eyes with an unreadable expression .
When she didn’t speak, I added, “I just, uh, thought you should know.”
Her lips were thin and her voice cold when she finally spoke.
“I shouldn’t blame myself for how you’ve turned out.
But I can’t help but feel at least a little bit responsible for the failure you’ve become, Anastasia.
I know that I have been an outstanding mother, though, beyond reproach.
If I’ve erred with you, I’ve probably been too soft, too indulgent, and you have taken advantage of it.
Now this is how you’ve turned out.” She straightened and started to walk away.
“What?” I shrieked. “That’s it?”
“Lower your voice, child,” Jacqueline hissed before composing her features into a fake smile. “What have I told you about being so melodramatic? It doesn’t suit a York woman, darling.”
She spun on her heel, leaving me with my jaw hanging open so long that my mouth became dry.
I blinked, once, twice, and licked my lips.
I have to get out of here .
Before I could analyze what just happened, my feet were already in action, my vision blurred, my mind unseeing, not knowing where I was going as long as it was in a different direction than that woman had gone.
My arms were crossed over my head, my eyes on the dark floor as I mumbled, “I thought you’d have to teach this morning.”
“No classes because of the holiday weekend,” Rafael said quietly, coming to sit cross-legged beside me on the floor of my walk-in closet.
And there we sat, without speaking, without moving. Eventually, Rafael gently clasped my hand and scooted a little closer.
Finally, in what might have been ten minutes or one hundred, I choked out, “She—she couldn’t even be happy for me, n–not even a little.” I stopped to catch my breath. “My new line of work seemed to—to disgust her.”
Rafael stiffened beside me. “Go on.”
“She asked me again why I wasn’t b–back with Brandon, and then instead of being outraged by how he treated me, she was offended by my ‘coarse’ words.” I turned to my best friend briefly, though I didn’t meet his eyes. “I’ve never used truly coarse words with her. I wouldn’t dare.”
“I know.”
“And then her slimy rich boyfriend—he, well, he hit on me. When I told her about it, she basically turned to ice and told me what a massive failure of a daughter I am.”
Rafael breathed out slowly and, in an icy calm voice, asked, “Annie … is there more?”
“Those are the highlights. And I know, I know she isn’t always right to say these things, but—”
“Annie—”
“But I am such an idiot for imagining, for hoping this could’ve ended any other way.
I should know better. I must be so deluded, but then I wonder, what else am I deluded about?
Is she … could she be right about some things?
” I inhaled a shaky breath, staring down at my knees.
“I’ve been sitting here thinking maybe this promotion, this job thing is stupid after all.
I’ve already written my resignation email in my head. It’s just—”
Rafael gave my shoulders a gentle shake. “ Stop . I can’t let you keep talking.”
I slowly raised my head, my bloodshot eyes finally meeting his. “Raf—”
“I’ll sit here all day with you in this closet if you want to. But I can’t, for a second more, let you believe anything out of that horrible woman’s mouth.”
I inhaled sharply.
“She gave birth to you, I know, but I’m done pretending she’s anything but a vile, abusive, self-centered monster. ”
I stared at him, and for some reason my eyes watered. Why? He wasn’t saying anything that I didn’t know or agree with. I didn’t resent him for saying it. Before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face, and my entire body was shaking.
Rafael enveloped me in his arms, and he stroked my hair lightly until I stopped shaking.
“I—I’m not—” I started.
“I’m sorry if that sounded harsh. I don’t mean to be hurtful. Not to you anyway.”
“No, I’m not … I can’t defend her. I don’t want to.
How could I? She has no redeeming qualities, that I know of.
” I fell silent, thinking of everything I knew about her mother.
“She did have a difficult childhood, I think. Neglect, emotional abuse, for example. She never talked about it much, but I know it shaped her. It’s not an excuse, but … ” I let the words hang in the air.
“At the very least, she probably has narcissistic personality disorder. I looked it up after your last call from her. Maybe other issues as well. And you know what, Annie? She isn’t going to change. This is who she is.” He squeezed my hand to soften the blow of his words.
After a few steadying breaths, I said quietly, “Logically, I know that.”
Rafael squeezed me tighter into his side, and we sat quietly for a long time.
I debated internally whether or not to confess my other messy personal disaster to Rafael.
Why not?
This is my year of rock bottoms, apparently .
“That’s actually not the only reason I’m doubting my future at the agency.” I exhaled in relief at having forced the words out.
“Oh?” He turned to face me and sit cross-legged, so we were sitting perpendicular now instead of side by side.
“Yeah, um,” I started, squeezing my eyes shut. “It’s kind of embarrassing, but I realized I’m, uh, still in love with—”
“Oh, that,” Rafael interrupted, chuckling. “ Duh.”
I elbowed him. “You knew? Wait, I didn’t even know myself until recently.”
Rafael raised an eyebrow. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”
“I should have known.” I sighed and then bit back a smile. “If I want to know how I feel about something, I should just ask you, eh?”
We both laughed, and it felt good, cleansing, for a few minutes.
But I sobered, recalling what we were discussing. “So, yeah, I don’t know if I can keep working for him. And he’s been nice to me lately. It would be easier if he was mean and I could try to, like, hate him. In fact, I told him so, basically.”
“I get it,” Rafael said, nodding slowly.
“But you can’t let this guy, any guy, get in the way of this job.
I’ve never seen you so excited about a job before.
Not a job, a career. You’re becoming what I’ve always known you can be, passionate and focused and …
you can’t give that all up because of a guy. ”
I tilted my head thoughtfully. “Similar to the advice you and Viv gave me years ago, to let him go.”
“Wait, what?” Rafael raised his eyebrows and his hands in protest. “That was all Viviana. I didn’t agree with her.”
My eyes widened. “ What? ” My brow furrowed as I tried to process this. “You so did.”
He bit his lip, his eyes pointed at the corner of the ceiling.
After a few slow breaths, he said, “I can see how you might’ve thought that.
I wasn’t vocal about it. I wanted you to follow your heart, and I thought …
well, things are different now. You didn’t know what you wanted then.
And now you do. You were a kid then, and now you’re a career woman. ”
I felt the corners of my mouth tugging upward. “Uh, it wasn’t that many years ago.”
“Mm-hmm.” He smiled and squeezed my hand briefly.
“Annie, please. If you take anything away from this chat, let it be this: you are amazing, and you can’t let anyone, whether it’s your mother, your ex, or even me, dictate what you do with your life or how you feel about yourself.
Except, well, you need to listen to me when I say you’re amazing. Got it?”
My eyes pooled with unshed tears, but my lips curved upward into a sad smile. “Love you to the moon and back.”
“Love you to the barre and mat,” he replied as he always did. “Hey, let’s go get our ballet on.”
“Said no dancer ever,” I said with a groan. “Do I have to?”
“Yep,” he said, pulling me up by both hands. “I spent enough time in the closet, you know?”
I smiled ruefully and let him lead me out of the dark. For now.
I blinked. How long had that spider web been in that corner of the ceiling?
And how long had I been lying in bed staring at it?
I blinked again, several times in succession. My eyes burned from crying yesterday.
The weekend that I should be celebrating the new life I’d begun making for myself? I’d spent it sobbing in a dark closet. And sleeping—
Holy crap.
The alarm clock said 7:00 pm. I’d slept all day? How was that possible? Rafael must have slipped me a sleep aid last night. Or was it this morning? I vaguely remembered it being dark outside when he practically carried me and tucked me into bed.
Then again, I’d barely slept for weeks. Months, really.
Maybe my body needed it. My brain certainly did.
In fact, I just wanted to sleep some more, to forget, to mourn the dream fulfilled if only for a fleeting moment …
a fantasy of a happy life for myself, really.
Of making something of myself. Of being … worthy.
Just sleep, need to make it all stop. Sleep until tomorrow, at least.
Where is that sleep aid?
There must be more of it somewhere .
Or alcohol.
And somehow, another thought arose, if only quietly at first.
No.
Not anymore.
New rule: Self-pity stops at 24 hours .
I sighed, dragging myself up to a sitting position and stretching my arms overhead.
The last bout of sleep and booze and depression had done nothing for me. “Not your style, girl,” I said to myself aloud. “Get the hell up.” I almost grinned as I added, “Talking to yourself is underrated.”
In the shower, the hot water blended with the salty tears running downward. But these were angry tears. The time for sadness and self-pity were over, replaced by molten fury flooding my veins.
Settled back onto my bed in a thick robe, I picked up my phone, ready to send my mother a scathing text message, to tell her to go straight to hell.
But as my fingers were poised above the screen, I exhaled slowly, feeling my heart ache once more.
No.
I’m not my mother. I don’t need to be cruel, just to be cruel.
Even if she deserves it.
Even if—
No.
I counted my breaths for a long moment.
I had to cut ties. Jacqueline would think that was cruel regardless of how I said it.
But I had to speak my truth, as neutrally as I could.
Email was probably best, so I could explain.
A phone call or in-person conversation would be kinder for most people, but I knew what would happen.
She wouldn’t let me speak. She’d interrupt and belittle me until I forgot what I wanted to say, until I no longer felt worthy of speaking at all.
An email would have to suffice .
Dear Mother, Please do not contact me at all anymore.
After enduring years of emotional abuse from you, I can no longer handle seeing or talking to you.
I need to take care of myself. I would consider reconciling if you were to undergo extensive mental health treatment, both individually and together, but I make no promises. Best Wishes, Annie
It sounded kind of awkward, but maybe that was the nature of a communication like this, with a woman like her? Should I tell her I’d be blocking her number? I copied the email into a message for Rafael and Rainn to get their input.
Surprisingly, I didn’t feel the weight of sadness I’d experienced yesterday. I didn’t really feel anything, except … maybe lighter. Perhaps it would hit me later, or perhaps I’d wanted this to happen much longer than I’d realized.
The feeling of lightness vanished though when my other problem surfaced in my mind.
Oh, Kylan.
I sank back into the bed.
It was pointless to try to ignore them, the feelings that had been building, growing louder, every day since we’d become reacquainted.
It was time to be truly honest with myself. Had I ever stopped loving him, wanting a life with him, however impossible, regretting the decision to let him go?
I couldn’t say for sure. Did it matter now? Maybe not. I was hopelessly in love with him. Maybe I always would be. The thought was painful.
Unlike four years ago, he wasn’t in love with me. He might not even like me. We were basically business associates.
He’s my boss .
I flattened myself on the mattress again and covered my face with my hands.
He was far up the chain, of course, like my boss’s boss’s boss. But my boss nonetheless. He could end my career if he wanted, but … he wouldn’t. He wasn’t a jerk.
I sat up slowly.
Am I the jerk here?
First I broke his heart, and now I’m taking up space in his company .
Should I quit?
I felt tears forming in my eyes again and wiped them away, frustrated. This was not the time for another emotional breakdown. I needed to think. And figure out what to do.
I mulled that over for a while, but when I was no closer to a decision, I sighed in frustration and picked up my phone.
Where are my roommates anyway?
While firing off a text to them both, I jumped at a sharp, loud sound and glanced out the window. Fireworks.
Crap, it’s the Fourth of July. All my friends would have plans tonight.
I didn’t want to bother them with my morose state of mind and impossible decisions. It could wait until another day. I briefly considered watching a movie and opening a bottle of wine but decided against it. I’d known for a while that I seriously needed to ease up on the drinking.
I could just read in bed until I nodded off. I was exhausted—who knew that creating boundaries like an adult and dealing with emotions could be so draining?