35. Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Five
Parker
“ I ’m not sure that’s the best use of our security system,” Ryan said calmly as I fast-forwarded through the video footage.
“That’s literally the entire point of having cameras.”
“Stalking your girlfriend?”
“Monitoring people who can’t be trusted.”
I still couldn’t believe she lied to my face after everything that happened between us.
Madison appeared on the screen, and I paused the video for a moment. Taking a breath, I resumed it at normal speed.
“May I suggest you use your phone and talk it out, instead of… monitoring her?”
Madison, dressed in the jumpsuit she wore at Annie’s wedding, carried a small leather bag in her hand as she was leaving The Gem. It was impossible to see her face, but her steps were determined. She looked focused as she headed towards a car waiting at the end of the parking lot.
She hadn’t even changed her clothes.
“I bet this was her plan all along.”
“Doubt it.”
I sent Ryan a murderous look. “I offered to hire her again. I told her to move to her own place. What else could I have possibly said to make her stay.”
“You offered her a job?” Ryan asked as if I was a moron.
“Of course, I have. She would have caught the first flight back to New York otherwise. Her job is her life.”
“I’ve always thought you were the smarter one of us,” Ryan shook his head. “Maybe you should have told her you loved her, you idiot. Maybe that would have been enough for her to stay. And what the fuck was that about her getting a place to live? Do you realize how that sounds? Maddie, baby, go live on your own, while I stay here and stare at my dead wife's pictures every single day. ”
“My dead wife was your sister, dickhead.”
“Exactly. Franny would have been the first one to call you an idiot. What woman in her right mind would consider that a love declaration?”
“It wasn’t supposed to be a love declaration. I wanted her to feel in control. Free. Independent. And she just left.”
Ryan chuckled. “Do you hear yourself? It wasn’t a love declaration and you wanted her to be free. I think she understood you perfectly. I don’t think she could be any freer than that.” He pointed at the video footage.
“She must have pretended all along. I’m telling you, she had planned this the entire time. ”
There could be no other explanation. If she had any feelings for me, she would have said something.
“Come on, man,” Ryan sounded disappointed. “What does she gain from sneaking out like that? She really cared about you.”
“You have spent ten minutes in total with the woman for the past eight months. How exactly did you come to that conclusion?”
I thought of it as a rhetorical question. Especially after I pulled out my phone and started typing a text to Madison, but I could hear him talking in the background.
Me: Did you have to run away like a coward while I slept?
“And I know she was sick back then, but I’m telling you. She looked like she was in physical pain over your loss.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked.
“Madison. You know, the woman we had been talking about for the last half an hour? The one you had to watch leaving because somehow her note wasn’t enough of an indication.”
Oh, that fucking note. I balled it and threw it somewhere on the floor after I read it.
Thank you for everything.
That’s all I deserved apparently. A fucking thank you. No explanation. I knew she was gone the moment I read it and yet I needed to see it with my own eyes. I wanted to see at what time that happened.
Newsflash: Right after the wedding.
Who sneaks out like that in the middle of the night? Someone with a plan.
“When have you two talked about my loss?”
“The day she was sick. I helped her get to The Pink Diamond, remember? She asked about Jack.”
Hearing the name of my son was like a thousand knives to the heart, but I soldiered through it .
“That’s impossible. She doesn’t know about him.”
Ryan rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, even if she was fishing because she heard something but wasn’t sure, I definitely confirmed it.”
“Fuck,” I threw my head back, looking at the ceiling.
Could she have left because I hadn’t told her about the baby?
“You haven’t told her about him, have you?”
“I didn’t know how. I was ashamed.”
“Of what?”
“That I spent the last months of Franny’s life accusing an innocent baby of killing my wife.”
“You know it wasn’t like that. The doctors said she had already been sick when she got pregnant.”
“But I begged her to terminate the pregnancy and get treatment. And she refused.”
“That was Franny’s decision.”
“I know. And yet I blamed him. What does that make of me?”
It made me a miserable son of a bitch, but Ryan was a good friend and didn’t say it to my face. “I know we’ve had this conversation before, but I’ll say it again. You need therapy, Parker.”
“I can’t talk about him.”
“That’s just another reason to start. You can't keep it inside forever. You need to talk about them both, Parker. Or it will eventually ruin your life.”
“I have to talk to Madison.”
He shook his head. “You have to pull your shit together and show her that you’re trying. And right now you’re not trying. You’re avoiding the problem, hoping it will go away. ”
I knew Ryan was right. That was exactly what I was doing. And I had let my own insecurities and guilt drive Madison away, and now it was time to face the consequences of my actions.
“You really think I shouldn’t go after her now?” I asked Ryan.
“I do. Let’s focus on finding you a therapist first. A grief counselor. Deal with your shit first, go after Madison later.”
A week later I sat in a therapy session with a woman in her fifties. I told her about the events that unfolded from the moment Franny and I got married until the day she had died.
“What was your son’s name?” She asked when I was done.
I frowned, not sure where she was going with it. “Jack.”
“Do you ever call him that when talking about him?”
“Of course I do,” I said, a little annoyed.
“While you were telling me the story, you called your wife Franny and him the baby .”
“That doesn’t mean I never use his name.”
“Who was the last person you told about Jack?”
“I…” I paused and thought about it. “My friend Tyler. We met after Franny’s death.”
“Would you mind texting your friend Tyler now to ask him if knows your son’s name?”
“I would mind actually.”
“Okay. What stops you from texting him?”
“His fiancée gave birth a few days ago. I don’t think it’s appropriate to bother him with my personal drama now.”
I stared at the therapist, feeling exposed and vulnerable under her gaze. After a moment of silence, I reluctantly pulled out my phone and typed.
Me: Hey, Ty.
Me: Have I ever told you my son’s name ?
Me: I’m in a session with a grief counselor.
As we waited for a response, the therapist shifted in her seat, adjusting her glasses before speaking again. “Sometimes we use avoidance as a coping mechanism. It's important to confront our emotions instead of burying them deep inside.”
I knew she was right, but facing my guilt and grief head-on was terrifying and not as easy as she made it sound.
“I have no idea how to begin doing that.”
My phone buzzed, indicating a new message.
Tyler: Good for you, man.
Tyler: As for your question, no. You’ve never mentioned it.
I looked up at the therapist and shook my head. She smiled at me. “That’s okay. We’ll get there.”