34. Alex
Alex
Watching her walk out, I can’t help but feel like it’s me she’s leaving, and I can’t blame her.
I placed the load of my world on her shoulders and expected her to know how to handle it.
I’ve had my whole life to learn how to bear the weight of these people’s judgments, and even now I feel it crushing me.
I just hope as she lets it go, that it doesn’t fall between us.
I don’t look away from the door, like any minute she will walk back through it. I’m stuck in the in-between of our goodbye. Carter, walking in front of me, finally pushes me to the other side of that moment.
“What happened?” he asks.
Looking at me, he is able to piece together an idea of how I’m feeling. I wonder if he saw everything fall apart.
No, not fall. Torn down. Ruined by the woman determined to shape my life, even if it has to be done through destruction.
“My mother happened.”
He looks around the room, like it will further explain. I do the same, and when my eyes zone in on her, I move.
Stepping in front of the painting she is looking at, I yell, “What did you say to her?”
She doesn’t bother to meet my eyes. Her gaze looks past me like I’m not blocking the thing that interests her. I would think she didn’t hear me at all if it weren’t for her mouth squishing into a scowl. I go to repeat myself when she holds up a hand.
“Don’t make a scene,” she reprimands.
“Do you think I care about that right now?” I speak louder than I was before, giving her the exact reaction she was hoping to avoid.
“Just because you have given up on your reputation doesn’t mean I have given up on mine,” she whispers. “Give me a ride home and then we can talk.”
She turns and heads towards the exit, leaving me no options. Trailing behind her like the child she is trying to make me out to be, I know when we are alone, it won’t be me who is being lectured.
I call the car, and we stand in a stony silence while we wait. As soon as the door closes, locking us in, she beats me to yelling first.
“How dare you, Alexander! Our family barely survived the scandal of your sister, and now here you are dating this girl who is a server. What is wrong with you? When will you two learn that it all matters? Everything you do has significance.” She throws herself against the seat and presses her hand to her forehead, feigning duress.
I roll my eyes and lean in to close in some of the distance. “I don’t care about any of that. Tell me what you said to her.”
She scoffs and crosses her arms. I feel my heartbeat in my hands as they vibrate with my rage.
“What did you say?” Turning her face by her chin, I force her to look at me.
“I told her the truth,” she spits. “Men like you do not marry girls like her.” She rips free from my hold and points a finger at me.
“Have all the dalliances you want, son, but you do not bring people like her to places where your associates might recognize her as the person who wipes down the tables.”
I clench my fingers, digging the nails into my palm. It’s the only thing keeping me from screaming thirty years’ worth of frustration at her. This is the last time I expect better of her. I didn’t think it was possible, but somehow, she has disappointed me again.
“I’m not doing this with you.” I knock on the window separating us from the driver. “Pull over,” I say.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
The car comes to a halt as we pull as close to the sidewalk as we can. Reaching over her, I open the door.
“Get out.”
“You can’t be serious?” She stares at me as if I will say it’s all a joke and bend to her will as I always have. This time, the only folding I plan on doing is to meet her at her level.
“For once in your life, I want you to listen to me when I speak, because I only plan on saying this once: The only reason I have you in my life is because Olivia asked me to. That ends today.”
She gasps and grabs at her chest. For the first time ever she seems to be at a loss for words. I don’t want to hear anything she has to say anyway.
“Get. Out.”
“Alexander, I’m your mother. You’re being ridiculous.” Her eyes water, and her lower lip wobbles. It does nothing to soften the steeliness of my heart. I’ve seen this performance enough times that I can sing along to the tune of her dramatics.
“All I want is what’s best for you,” she says.
“What is best for me is being outside of the world you so cherish. What is best for me is being with a woman I love with everything that I am. Not once in my entire life have you or your warped sense of importance been what’s best for me.
” I fight the urge to push her out of the car and instead point my finger in the direction I would like her to go.
If I’m being honest, I should be pointing at the floor to remind her where she vacations.
“You will not destroy this empire for a woman; this is not Troy,” she says with pure conviction.
“What about for myself?”
She chokes out a laugh and then screams, “You will not ruin this!”
“What will you do to stop me? You have no more bargaining chips. I don’t need your money, I’ve given up on your love, and the cost of earning your approval is not worth it. There is absolutely nothing you can do to make me do what you want anymore. So get out of my car, and get out of my life.”
She brings her face closer to mine and looks me right in my eyes.
“Your grandfather is rolling over in his grave. You consider yourself to be a good man, yet you are dumping the woman who gave birth to you on a random street. Will you be able to sleep at night knowing this is how you treat someone who has sacrificed everything for you? My love may seem transactional, but believe me, you spoiled child, I have paid the higher price.”
Her words are like a punch to my throat. I lose all air. And with it goes my fight. She takes one look at me and closes the door. Directing the driver where to go, we fall into a silence.
Even when she gets out of the car, I still sit stunned by her final refrain.
Every time I think I am free of her, she finds a way to dig her nails in deeper.
My gut turns with the idea that I have somehow let down the only man I have ever looked up to.
And my mind gets tangled in her twisted words.
Despite the fact that she has never cared for my feelings, I wonder about hers and what it cost to be wanted by a man like my father. I wonder what she meant.
I may never know, and if I want to be rid of her for good, I have to come to terms with never finding out.
The most I can wait is forty-eight hours before I can no longer bear her ignoring me and show up at her door. I can’t let another second pass where this gap grows with her weighted thoughts. Chanice needs to know all of the ways in which I will never allow this to happen again.
My knock holds all my anxiety. It’s only slightly soothed by her opening the door and not immediately slamming it in my face.
It all but disappears when she steps to the side, letting me come in.
Once inside, she pulls me into her arms and rests her head on my chest. I let out the breath that has been trapped in my lungs since that night, and feel her let out her own as well.
“Where are the kids?” I ask, worried about the impression this conversation is going to make on them.
“The movies,” she says, letting me go. She makes her way to her couch and sinks into the comfy pillows.
It’s the type that is perfect for curling up as a family and watching TV. The type I never had growing up. I slide in next to her and pull her into my side, resting my chin on her head.
“Are you okay?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“No,” she sighs out.
“I’m sorry.” I lean forward and kiss her head, trying to soothe some of those feelings. “I should’ve done more to make sure that never happened to you.”
“Alex, what do you think you could have done? There was no protecting me from eventually having to deal with your mum.”
She grabs my hand, but I can barely hold back as regret has my body freezing. Feeling me tense, she sits up and slides into my lap, forcing my face to look in her direction. She plants a gentle kiss on my lips.
“I didn’t want you to feel like you don’t belong,” I whisper against her mouth.
“I don’t.” She kisses me once more before pulling back.
“You belong wherever I am.”
“That’s not true,” she says, standing up.
Her retreating from me finally wakes my body up enough that I can move, too. I jump and grab her hand, bringing her close to me once again.
“Yes, it is.”
“No, it’s not. You just want it to be true.”
“Chanice—”
“When we met, you said I was the opposite of everything that you are. Do you really think someone like that fits in your world?” She swings her arms out, but her voice stays level. I still step back like she screamed the words, thrown off balance by their truth.
“I just wanted you to come and have a good time,” I say.
“Alex, you don’t even have a good time at those things.”
I don’t. So why did I bring her? Did I really think I was going to fall in love with someone who does?
Did I really think her being there would change that?
I’m so twisted up in who I’m supposed to be that even when I am faced with someone who wants me as I am, I still try to force them into that molded world.
When I think about my life with her, it’s not going to these events multiple times a week.
It’s not introducing her to business associates and their wives over dinner.
It’s having furniture that is more suited for the people who live here than the ones who are going to visit.
It’s about late nights at food trucks, laughing about mundane things.
I have everything I have ever wanted at the tip of my fingers, but I can’t grasp it.
There might not be enough room for me to hold on to that life and the one I’m supposed to live.
Because no matter how I feel, these events are a requirement.
“I have to go to them. It’s a portion of my responsibilities.”
“Yes, but you don’t want those responsibilities.”
I run my hand through my hair, tugging at the ends. “You don’t get it,” I say, stepping back, creating the space that I hate.
“Oh, I get it, believe me. I know you were forced into this role by your parents. I know you had to take on these responsibilities you didn’t ask for.
And above all else, you had to give up your dreams for your family.
We may not live the same life, but our stories are very similar.
The only difference is I chose this, and I would do it time and time again.
It fits me. But love, you don’t have to wear a life that someone else picked out for you. ”
She makes it sound so easy because she does understand.
She has lived this struggle with greater consequences.
But she wants this. She chose this for herself out of love.
Other than some distorted sense of loyalty to my grandfather, I don’t know why I keep picking to stay in this.
I don’t know how to unravel myself from the strings that have been tied to me since I was born.
I plop down and press my face into my hands. Breathing through the small gaps between my fingers, I try to regain control. Her hands smooth over my head and land on my neck. She rests there, kneeling in front of me.
When I look up, we are eye to eye, and I see so much in them. She shows me that she is one of the few people who want what’s best for me.
“Are we okay?’ I ask needing at least that for now.
“Yes. But I won’t be doing that again. I’m not me when I’m there.”
I don’t want her to be anything but the woman I fell in love with.
“You don’t ever have to go again. I will never make you do anything you don’t want to do.” I press my forehead against hers.
“I wish you could promise yourself the same,” she says and then stands up.
She offers me a hand and leads me to the bedroom I have been dying to see.
There, we fill the hole that the other night had dug up.
Entering her, I pour into her all the promises I can make, and she squeezes around me, letting me know that she won’t let go.
No matter what transpires, it’s us. It will always be us.
And that makes that empty place fuller than it was before.