Leap (22 page)

“What do you think you're doing?” I ignore his question until Mack pulls the duffel bag away and flings it across the room, the contents spilling out onto the floor. I do my best not to cry because I’m so angry, but it doesn’t work.

This isn’t working.

“I’m leaving. I can’t live this way. I can’t allow you to treat me like you're my father. I have a father.”

I run over to my bag and start putting everything back in. My tears come and blind me, and I can hardly see what I’m doing.

“You can’t go. You can’t leave her.”

I stand, swinging my bag over my shoulder. I look through my purse to make sure I have my wallet, keys, and anything else I may need.

“I’m not leaving her. I’m leaving this situation. It’s not healthy.”

As I go into my bathroom to collect a few things, he follows me in still looking angry. I don’t fucking care.

“You’re her father. You can handle it. You have the control, Mack. You’re always in control no matter what.”

I try to get by, but he blocks me when I attempt to exit.

“Yes, I have control. Unlike you who can’t even keep her legs shut as soon as we leave this apartment.”

I bow my head. He’s angry. I’m angry, and there’s no sense in arguing or taking to heart what he says. I’m not a slut. If I were, it wouldn’t have taken me a year and a half to almost have sex with someone I thought might have been worth it.

“Go to hell, Mack.” I push past him, grab my remaining things and set out down the hallway. I reach the front door of the apartment and feel something on my leg.

Looking down, I realize it’s Haven holding on for dear life.

“Rinny, where are you going? Why are you and Daddy yelling? Please don’t go, Rinny.”

She’s crying, and I don’t know how to stop it. For the first time since this child was an infant, I don’t know how to comfort her. I can’t tell her everything will be okay because I don’t know what is happening or what tomorrow is going to bring.

I crouch down to her level and take her by her shoulders.

“Listen to me, baby. I have to go on a trip for work. Daddy and I were just talking loudly. Not fighting. I’ll see you soon, okay? Promise me you’ll be a good girl?” She just cries and it breaks my heart, but I can’t stay here with him.

“Haven Hope, look at me. Promise me you’ll be good for your dad.”

She nods and I feel her forehead. She’s very warm. She’s sick, and I’m leaving her. Am I some kind of monster? I vowed never to leave her, never to disappoint her, but I am. I’m hurting her. Mack stands there a few feet away from us. A blank expression on his face as he watches Haven cry. I kiss her gently on the top of her head and look at him.

“Children’s fever medicine is in the top left cabinet. Give her two teaspoons every six hours. Call the doctor if she’s no better by tomorrow. The number is on the fridge.” He says nothing. What is there even left to say? I walk out the door and leave the two people I love most in this world because I can’t live with the two people I love most. We’re a pseudo family.

Fake.

Pretend.

Imaginary.

I’m not going to do this to myself any longer. I’ll always be there for Haven, but living with someone you love—that you're actually trying to stop being in love with is an impossibility.

I hail a cab outside our building and the cab driver helps me put my bags in the trunk. I can’t think straight when he asks me where to. Where am I going? Where do I go? I don’t want to go back to Long Island and be subjected to my mother’s millions of questions. I don’t want to be bothered with any of it. She’ll get Jocelyn involved, and my dad and it will be a shit storm. I’ll have to deal with it sooner or later, but just not tonight.

I tell the driver to take me to a hotel close to my office. This way I don’t have to take the subway. I pray there’s a room available when I arrive.

I lean my head against the window of the cab and look out onto the busy streets of Manhattan. The lights and the sounds are as bright as ever. The people and the traffic busy as usual. Nothing about this city ever changes, but tonight I’m sure my life has changed. I think about how I allowed it to get this bad.

But it hurts to think. No more thinking tonight.

It’s like a divorce. This feels like a divorce. We live apart but there's one thing that’s keeping us in each other's lives. A little girl.

Somewhat.

It’s only been a month and I’m still trying to get used to my privacy with living alone. I’ve never lived alone. I’m not sure I’m a fan of it, but he left me with no choice.

Our conversations are short and to the point. When I call her, he answers. My patience for him is even shorter. He sounds so serious. Like he’s mad at me for something. The pretend politeness irritates me like a rash. It oozes sweetness but nestled underneath it’s rotting like fruit. He is the creator of this mass destruction. It’s almost as though our conversations are scripted.

“Hello, Mack.”

“Hello, Corrine.”

“May I speak to Haven, please?”

“Yes, let me get her for you.”

Same conversation, just a different day.

I ask my girl how gymnastics class was, what she had for dinner, and my favorite, which scented bubble bath she used that night.

See, that was our thing. She’s like me, a tomboy who likes girly things. Every week I’d go to our favorite store and buy her a new travel-size scent of something. Mack always wanted to kill me because their bathroom was over-run with girly, fruity scents. I didn’t care. He really didn’t either. He felt outnumbered in a cute way.

She asks me why I don’t come home. I told her I needed to be on my own for a little while. She doesn’t understand. I don’t fully understand myself. Owen went and got a few things I left behind when he came to town. I just couldn’t go back. For fear I’d see all the pictures of us hanging on the walls and Haven’s art projects from school adorning the refrigerator. I would be so afraid I’d cave and go back. But I can’t. Not after the things Mack said. Not after what he witnessed. It’s too awkward. After I called Owen to tell him I moved out, he offered his help. Anything I needed, he would be there for me. I didn’t want him to be involved, but we’re friends and he is Haven’s Godfather. He made himself involved when he offered.

I meet Owen for dinner after he went to the apartment. He told me Mack didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to talk about me. Owen just said Mack was worried about Haven.

He’s not the only one.

I order a cucumber mojito. Actually, I order a few. There’s no reason for me to be sober tonight when I go home. There isn't a child I have to be on my toes for.

Owen smirks and chews on a toothpick. He eases back in his chair and shakes his head when he notices how quickly the fresh drink our waitress just brought me is about gone.

I crinkle my brow and tilt my head to him, chuckling as I do so.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” He doesn’t answer—just tilts his chin up and stretches his arms behind his head. I throw a paper cocktail napkin at him.

“Owen! Answer me.”

“I like it when you're like this.”

I dig the cucumber slice out from the bottom of my empty glass with my straw, chew it and talk with my mouth full.

“Like what?”

He shrugs and sips on his whiskey and water.

“Free. Loose. Relaxed.”

I look at him, curiously.

“What do you mean? I’m always like this, maybe not always with this much alcohol in my system, but I’m relaxed.”

His head moves side to side. Passively.

It’s a bit unnerving the way he looks at me, but then I think about how this is Owen. My friend. Mack’s friend.

“Fine, give me some examples as to why I’m not always the traits you speak of.”

He pushes his empty glass aside and leans over the table. So close. So very close. I can smell the whiskey on his breath, and I can see every curve, every angle, and every speck of crystal blue in his eyes. And I like it. I’ve never noticed the brilliant spectrum of cobalt and cerulean in them before. Why haven’t I?

“You’re not relaxed, Corrine. Never have been. The first time I met you, you were helping Mack move his stuff in our dorm room. You forgot to pack something of his and you ran into the room in a total panic. You were about to rip out your hair, even after Mack told you it was okay, he’d have his mom send it to him, you still had this look of total loss of control on your face. I thought to myself not only is she cute, but I bet she’s a force to be reckoned with. No matter what, I needed to know you.”

I smile at him in a playful, flirtatious way.

“You were a kid then, but now . . . oh man, you are so much more than that, Corrine. You’re a woman. Still a force to be reckoned with but not a girl anymore. At least not the same girl who walked into that room that day.”

I know what he means, and I straighten my spine in my chair and signal the waitress for another drink. She nods, but then reverts her eyes to Owen, who motions his head to her with a ‘no’.

“Owen, don’t make decisions for me. I want another drink. I’m a grown up.”

“I guess that’s it then, huh, Corrine.”

“Not following you, Owen.”

“You’re a grown up. You're not the crazy girl I met freshman year. You’re a grown up.”

I raise my hand again and motion to the waitress to come to the table.

“I had no choice. I had to grow up. Parenting does that to you.” I tell the waitress I want another mojito. Owen looks annoyed at first but backs off.

“She’s not yours, Corrine.”

That harsh reality barrels into my brain like a freighter. I should throw my drink in his face for his words, but I also know that there's nothing but truth in them.

“Don’t you think I know that, Owen? I know it every day. But I’m also the closest thing that child has to a mother. That fact will never change.” I sit back in my seat and stare at him. Not with fire and brimstone seeping out of my eyes, but confidence. Something I’m not always representing. Alcohol and me reasoning within myself gives me that confidence.

Owen leans forward again.

“I
do
know that, Corrine. I’ve been there since day one as well. But you deserve more than the life you were living. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love Mack and I love Haven. They're my family, but where does your arrangement leave you? Don’t you want more from your life? Don’t you want
your
own life?”

“I have a life, Owen.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Now you think you do. Why? Because you live in your own shoebox? Manhattan real estate doesn’t get you much, Corrine. Maybe you would have been better off back on Long Island with your parents.”

I chortle at just the thought of living back at home with my parents at my age.

“Yeah, and wake up at four a.m. every morning to get the LIRR to Penn Station so I can fight for a cab to get me to the magazine’s building and lug equipment from there to a shoot and then take the train back on those nights I have a late shoot or a late meeting or late editing. A bunch of drunks and me on a train at two a.m. Really smart, Owen.” I roll my eyes, and he lifts a corner of his mouth for a smile.

“And not to mention the thousands of questions I’d get from my mother about how late I am and how irresponsible I’m being and to eat my lima beans and shit like that. No thank you.”

“Okay, okay. I get it. What about the guy you were seeing when all of this went down. You still seeing him?”

“Nope. He got scared off. I’m pretty sure I’m reverting back to being a virgin soon.”

Owen’s smile is short lived and replaced by a look of something enigmatic.

“We can change that right now.”

It takes me a second because the alcohol has slightly slowed down the processing in my brain.

“What, you want to fuck me, Owen? Is that it?”

“Yep.” Owen was never one for subtlety.

My arms splay out in front of myself on the table. An open invite of sorts for Owen to do just that. Sure he’s Owen, but what do I have to lose by taking him to bed. Letting him do the things to me I want done. Let him fuck me so hard I can’t walk for days and allow that memory to take over with every step I take afterwards. A good hurt, a good ache between my legs will do me some good. Maybe he’ll go down on me, and I’ll tug on his dark, wavy hair and he’ll whisper dirty words in my ear. Maybe he’ll make me come just from his mouth. Then he’ll let me suck him off, but I’ll stop and make him fuck me before he comes. It crossed my mind once. Me and Owen. Somewhere between Mack dating, and me being lonely.

It all sounds good. Owen has always wanted in my pants. He's gorgeous and single and, yeah, this could be complicated if it goes any further than what I’m conjuring up in my head. But it’s just for sex. I need sex. Owen can give me what I want, though. And tonight I want to be fucked. I don’t want silly lovemaking. I don’t want tender or romantic. I don't want stupid stuff like looking into each other's eyes. All that is bullshit. I just want something meaningless. Something that will put me out of my misery.

I am miserable.

I am.

I stand up, push back my chair, throw a few bills on the table, and grab my handbag.