Chapter 18 Cannot Compete
CANNOT COMPETE
ANASTASIA
It’s my big night and I should be excited. Finally, the movie premier of A Little Luck at Christmas is here. After a grueling day of interviews and pretending that everything with me is just peachy, on my ride home, every inch of me aches, filled with dread at seeing Saint again.
He didn’t answer my calls and texts all day.
I left little in the way of voice and texts, simply begging him to talk to me.
I have no idea what to expect, as I make it home from the hair salon, where the women worked and tamed my thick hair into a softly swept updo, and caked on the makeup to make the purple bags under my eyes go away. Miracle workers.
Before I get dressed, I search for him, knowing where he’s likely to be. I peek my head through the porthole door, confirming my suspicions. There he is, sprawled on the Adirondack chair of his rooftop sanctuary. Alone, like the broody man prefers.
An empty bottle of whiskey sits on the side table, and next to it, the green rabbit’s foot on a key chain that looks like it’s been manhandled way too much. In his hand, a paper looks almost ready to drop to the floor.
Thinking he’s passed out, I slowly drag it from his grasp and study it carefully. It’s a program of some kind for a memorial service. The date strikes me—Held today?
I cut a sharp glance at him. Is this where he was all day?
The ten-year memorial was for Lilah and baby St. James. I can only guess this was his wife and baby. Married once and lost them? I shiver, suddenly cold as if ghosts are nearby, and they are. Haunting Saint for the rest of his days. My heart cries for him.
He stirs.
I startle and replace the program in his hand.
“Anastasia?”
“Hi. I-I came to see if you were ready to go to the premier. I thought you were passed out again.”
“Not as drunk as last night. I don’t think.” He slurs his words and sets the program on the arm of the chair.
“Well, I need to go. The car with Nana should arrive any minute.” I leave him be, hoping for a fast exit. After wishing for the truth, now that I have it, I’m not sure I can deal with it.
“Wait. I’m coming. Give me a few minutes to shower and change.” He sits up, elbows on knees, hands rubbing his face.
“You don’t have to.” My eyes shift between him and the program.
He notices my gaze and shakes his head. “You saw that, didn’t you?”
“Yes. Why didn’t you just tell me about her?”
He scoffs. “It’s the anniversary of the accident. Lilah was m-my wife. She was pregnant with our baby when it happened, the night of our wedding. She left with her brother to go pick up more alcohol. He was driving when they got hit. He walked away, they didn’t.”
Now he spills it all, almost stoic, when we’re supposed to leave in a few minutes. But finally hearing the truth from him, my heart breaks. The suffering he must have gone through all this time…
“I was invited by her family to attend a memorial for her at the cemetery. That’s where I was today. When I got home, I came up here to clear my head, but one drink led to… I guess I lost track of time.”
“If only you had opened up. I would have dropped everything to be there with you today, so you wouldn’t have had to face this alone,” I explain.
I rub my arms, the late November breeze a sign of seasons changing, fall to winter.
Are Saint and I changing too, from whatever romance I thought we were in to whatever this is right now?
I swallow down the truth, but it comes right back up.
“Saint, I don’t know if I can compete with your memories of them. They have such a hold on you.”
“I’ve never asked you to.” He scowls and stands, and in one step he’s in front of me, taking over rubbing my arms, but swaying like he’s about to stumble. The strong scent of alcohol tumbles toward me. He’s in no condition to escort me tonight.
I put my hand up against his chest to prevent him getting closer. “They’ll always come between us, won’t they?”
“It doesn’t have to be like that.”
“Really? Because from my viewpoint, all I see is Lilah blocking my path to your heart.”
He slumps back down into the chair like he’d fall if he doesn’t. Like my words have pinned him down right at the soul of it. He makes no effort to deny it, either. He reaches for the rabbit’s foot and rubs it absentmindedly, like another appendage to his body.
“She gave that to you, didn’t she?”
He nods. Sitting there like he is, he’s a sad man who can’t see who he’s losing. Me. And everything becomes clear. I’m not strong enough to force him to change.
He’s not strong enough to prove to me he can put the past behind and stay with me. I doubt he ever will be. But with the clock ticking, I have an event tonight that means so much to me, and he doesn’t seem to care.
“It’s perfectly fine if you need to stay here and…deal with things. Nana and I have been planning to attend this premier together for some time. So it can be just a girls’ night.” I add a weak smile on the end for mild reassurance.
“Are you sure? I guess I have had too much to drink.”
He didn’t want me there with him by his side supporting him; he doesn’t want to be there tonight supporting me. Maybe I don’t want him there, either.
“Of course. We’ll talk when I get back.” I make haste for the porthole and leave him be, not giving him any room to change my mind.
I hurry to change, while the car with Nana arrives and waits outside.
The entire drive to the theater, I fight the tears, trying to keep my makeup intact.
Abandoned again, by yet another man. Saint leaves me on my special night that could mean everything to my career, only to brood over a day that ruined him.
While I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished, I had my heart set on celebrating with the people who mean the most to me. Without Misty here, I at least have Nana. And since Saint came into the picture, I thought I had him, too. Only I didn’t, and that’s clear now.
He’s at home, keeping company with his ghosts. They’ll never go away, will they? Saint will never be all mine when there’s a memory tucked away inside of his heart, a lost love keeping him tethered to the past.
This isn’t something I can easily reconcile. This is more than pure jealousy. A trigger for every hurt the little girl inside of me has experienced when my father neglected me.
Why do I bother to put myself through this again, when men have proven that I can never be their sole object of attention forever? I should have known from the start that this would happen with Saint.
No, I won’t cry now. I’ll be strong and get through this night. Later, when I’m alone somewhere, I’ll break down and let it all out.
On the red carpet with Nana, I try to channel my inner Barbara St. James. I prove quite the actress, smiling, dazzling, no one the wiser that inside I’m dying, thinking only of Saint.
In the theater lobby, we’re served champagne and find a corner to stand and observe the people who are quickly filling the room. Nana proposes a toast. “To you, my dear. I couldn’t be prouder of you.”
I drop the act for a millisecond, my smile thinning to a straight line. She doesn’t miss a thing, even removing her glasses and leaning in to study my face.
“Something is wrong. Tell me.” Her sweet old eyes roam my face with worry, she knows me so well. She’s been like a stand-in for my mother since college, always there to talk with when things got rough, or to visit and cry over a plate of her warm, freshly baked cookies.
As good as a cookie would sound about now, my stomach is in knots.
“I think Saint and I are through. He’s stuck in the past and I’m not enough to hold him in the present.
” I admit in a tiny, wobbly voice, fighting back the tears.
On a deep inhale, I blink and turn my eyes up to the crystal chandelier, trying to count the number of glass prisms there as a distraction.
“Oh, my dear.” She hugs me with warm and inviting arms, like that’s all I’d need to brush my cares away. If only. “I have high hopes for the two of you, but I know loving a man with a complicated past can’t be easy.”
Grateful for the hug, I step back out of it and dab my eyes and steady my breathing before I’m a complete mess.
“I found him nearly passed out before I left. Turns out, this was the anniversary day of the accident of his wife and child. And what did I do? I got all in my head about it, so distraught, I left him there. All I could think about was how he was letting me down, not being here tonight, just like all the other men in my life.”
“Search your heart, honey. Is he really like those other men? Or is he just a human being, grieving over a loss? Sometimes people need a gentle hand to guide them back to the present. If he’s worth it and treats you well and is trying, do you think with time, with your care and patience, you can remind him of what he has right now with you? ”
“I don’t know. But you could be right, Nana.
I left him there to wallow in his self-pity.
Why didn’t I at least hug him and assure him it was okay?
Why didn’t I let him know how much my heart was breaking for him now that the truth was finally out or thank him for finally letting me in?
Oh God, what kind of girlfriend does that make me?
Where was my compassion? Am I a horrible person?
” I face the wall, set my drink on a side table there, and try to catch every tear before it ruins my makeup or anyone else sees.
“No, you’re not.” She rubs my back so soothing. “You’re just a woman trying to guard her heart, and he’s a man guarding his. So you two have a bit of a battle ahead of you. The question is, will this love growing between you be worth fighting for?”
Nana amazes me. So wise in her years. With any luck, I could be that wise in my grand old age.
Luck… I think about the rabbit’s foot Saint always carries.
How much it must have meant to him that Lilah gave it to him, to hold on to the constant reminder of her in his pocket.
The poor girl, gone so long ago, only a memory.
And a child, too? It is truly heartbreaking, and here I am trying to shove them out of his life?
If he lets me, I could be the rock by his side and visit the cemetery with him. Listen to him when he wants to talk about her. We could seek counseling, which he probably needs. Has he ever talked to someone about his grief?
Whatever we do, as long as he comes back to me every time, doesn’t abandon me altogether, wouldn’t it be enough to know that he returns to me? Chooses to be with me?
Saint and I could be good together, and worth fighting for, like Nana says. Even if there are bumps in the road along the way.
“Thank you, Nana. You’ve given me a lot to think about. I hope I didn’t ruin the night by unleashing the status of my love life on you.” I squeeze her arm and pick up my flute to finish the drink.
“Not at all. I enjoy being useful. Of course, this conversation would have been better over a plate of double dark chocolate brownies dusted with powdered sugar and green sprinkles that I have waiting for us at home after the movie.”
“With chocolate milk?” I ask, my mouth watering.
“We’ll stop on the way to pick some up.” She winks and pats my arm. “Now, shall we go find our seats? I’ve been so excited about this movie. I cannot wait to watch it.”
Happier for now, I manage a weak smile, and we walk arm-in-arm, toward the theater entrance, until we pass the counter of merchandise the studio sells.
I’d already grabbed myself a t-shirt and commemorative mug when the order form circulated around the office.
But something catches my eye, an item that wouldn’t have meant much to me before… but now?
“Hold up, Nana.” I stop at the counter where attendants are waiting on patrons. When it’s my turn, I ask and point at the display, “Can I have the green rabbit’s foot, please?”
It’s perfect. And hopefully, Saint will let me have the chance to give it to him later.
When we enter the dim-lit theater, an usher takes Nana’s arm and escorts her down to the front row on the end. She preens as the handsome man smiles and chats with her along the way. Her night is made.
I smile for her and follow right behind, although I’m not relishing the idea of the third seat being empty, knowing that I could have hugged Saint on the roof and encouraged him to be here with us.
This is supposed to be my triumph to be here. I’ll take the win and enjoy it, but a part of me is aching. Had I handled everything better, he’d be by my side tonight.
With the rabbit’s foot in my hand, I spend the entire movie rubbing it for luck that we’ll somehow find our way forward together.