Where Life Takes You (8 page)

We both laughed. Estella turned every woman into a child-hater, after two hours of snapshots. The nonsense talk and baby chat became repetitive. Crutches and all, I smiled and went to the dance floor where Ava groped against two guys—was she really my only hope? When she spotted me, she whispered something to one of her dance partners while pointing at me. The tall, blond, gruff-looking guy headed toward me, smiled, and began to dance… with me?

The night had been a bust, so I decided to give him a chance; maybe turn the night around. Ke$ha’s,
Die Young,
blasted through the speakers, and the lights strobed in sync with the music. Things seemed to get better, until Tall Blond invaded my personal space. Playfully, I pushed him and continued dancing, but he didn’t budge.

He slammed his hips into my body, and whispered, “You’re hot.”

Before I could react, he slid his hands through my arms, and his mouth mimicked the action along my jaw.

It made me want to throw-up. I flinched, forgetting the cast and tripping. My eyes closed automatically after losing my balance, but, thankfully, a pair of strong arms broke my fall. One of Buddy’s bouncers pushed Tall-Blond toward Nate, who grabbed him by the collar and dragged him like a rag doll. When did Nate arrive, and where’s Dan?

“I’ll take her.” Dan pulled me to him and enclosed me in his protecting arms. “Are you okay, little one?”

Now I am
, I thought, burying my head against his chest.

“We’re going home.”

We walked to the table to gather my stuff, when the husbands appeared to reclaim their wives. We all left simultaneously, without a word.

Dan broke the unbearable silence inside the car as Nate was driving us back home. “Did you have to come? No one seemed to be having fun, and you exposed yourself to a pervert.”

“I need my space back.” My response was automatic and defensive. “Your actions are suffocating me. My life hasn’t been the same since I broke my leg. You’re disrupting everything.” I covered my mouth after those outrageous words.

Dan’s jaw twitched with anger, and he removed his arms from around me, sliding from the middle seat to the one behind the driver’s. He gazed out the window. I would have to grovel to save the situation, so I shuffled over to his side, put my head on his shoulder, and linked our hands. It took him a few minutes, but eventually he softened his body, hugged me back, and rested his chin on top of my head. Once we arrived home, he kissed my hair before opening the door—a good sign—and the tension in his shoulders eased.

I’d broken our bubble, for a stupid night out which ended in disaster. We’d built a stronger bond since coming back from Aspen, even with his over protective streak. And I’d blown everything in one night. While heading to the elevator, memories of the past six weeks came to mind. Evenings together preparing food, baking cookies, and watching movies galore—horror, mysteries, sci-fi, and chick-flicks—had been possible since he stopped traveling for me.

Nate took care of the crutches, while Dan carried me all the way from the car to the bedroom without a glance to each other. Per his request, I sat on the bed, there he knelt in front of me, and took my chin between his hands, getting my attention. “We’ll talk tomorrow. I’m too worked up to be reasonable with you or anyone else right now.”

I grasped the comforter to steady myself while my brain tried to decode his last words. We always talked our issues, never left anything for the next day, no matter how worked up we were.  The conversation took a turn that made me want to get under the bed until everything fixed by itself.

“I never meant to make you feel bad.” He headed towards the door.

“I’m sorry.” My whisper made him stop, but not turn. “Please, don’t be mad, Danny. I acted stupidly. Maybe it's cabin fever, and Ava and… don’t go. Can you stay?”

“I want you to be happy,” he said. “I won’t stay, but we’ll talk later.”

* * * * *

Me: Miss you! Call me when you have time.

Me: Are you mad at me?

Me: Danny, where are you. I’m not liking your silence.

Me: Last text, because I can’t take more rejection. Have I mentioned how much I miss you?

Princess,

New arrangements. First stop, Hawaii for a week. There are a few other trips scheduled after I deal with the resort. Thank you for sharing your space while it lasted. I enjoyed it. Never meant to disrupt anything.

D

I read the note for the millionth time since he’d left me four days ago. Our last communication and his sad goodbye. He declined my calls, didn’t connect to Skype, and my texts remained unanswered. I even stooped to calling Nate.

“Mr. Brightmore’s schedule filled without warning. There are too many meetings to attend in a day, and only so many hours. He won’t be able to return your call today.”

“Tell him I…. Tell him to call me when he can,” I said, and hung up the phone.

Betsy didn’t release much information when I visited his office three days after he left. He’d arranged his trip Thursday night, and left around five the next morning. Per his request, she’d switched his schedule for the next couple of weeks, and none of them included a pit stop in Boston. “I don’t know what to tell you, Becca. You two are very close, and he never withholds information from you. But this time….” She shrugged. “I’m just following orders.”

Clearly, she knew Dan and I had fallen out.

I did it! I screwed up, big time. Worse, I’m not sure how to fix my mess.

Bryan continued driving me around. Like every Tuesday, he took me to Dr. Mackenzie’s office. My session focused around my family ties, or lack thereof. I never met my father. My grandpa died when I was two. Grandma joined him six years later and Mom… well, we hadn’t shared any ties after I left her womb. Greg became my stepfather but never procured me. Most women my age would be in a relationship, or at least planned to be in one someday. Not me. The thing that stopped me: the secret that had been buried deep inside long ago. Aspen brought out the images, Dan kept the nightmares away.

“I don’t have much to give,” I told the doctor, when she questioned my aversion to forming a family. “These crappy experiences make me an unfit mother. And who in his right mind would want me, when my own parents rejected me?”

“Rebecca.” Dr. Mackenzie’s calm voice took over the conversation. “We’ve walked this path already. Your parents' behavior towards you has everything to do with them, and nothing to do with you as an adult. Their rejection is an indication of their own behavior. Let’s discuss this thoroughly next week after you reflect about it in your journal.”

Before going to bed, I pulled my journal and wrote.

* * * * *

Dear Donna and Sperm Donor:

As I open this book to write an angry letter to Lisa, my thoughts go back to the two of you. During counseling, I talked about family ties. The web defines this as a group of persons related by blood; a social group that contains the nuclear family together. You two were my closest relatives by blood, but you never forged any ties with me. My life has been a chain of events where I force myself on strangers to create a bond that will stick. But they are temporary families, and the links always disappear, one way or another.

I wish you could answer a few of my questions. Do you think if I learn why you didn’t want me, I might stop my being this insecure, needy creature?

Your offspring,

Rebecca Trent

P.S. Lisa, I apologize for neglecting you. I think my life stopped orbiting around yours.

Chapter 9

Desperate to hear Dan’s voice one last time before going to bed and cutting ties, I called him. “Brightmore, you know what to do.” I did
leave a message after the beep.

“I screwed up and I’m sorry,” I said in a shaky voice. “Got the message, loud and clear, and I’ll stop contacting you now. I wanted to ask for a chance to redeem myself, but perhaps it’s better this way. The last thing you need is a clingy friend. Oh, Dan, I wish I was different for you, goodbye.”

A part of me died after leaving the voicemail. Dan was my anchor, the constant who kept me grounded when storms tried to uproot me. I hugged his pillow, breathing in the last remnants of his essence.

The next morning my phone blinked, and I saw a puzzling text.

Dan: I miss you too, little princess, but I can’t talk to you. Not now. Things got complicated between us, and we’re harboring secrets. It’s not how we are. I’ll confess one of them. Your mom is looking for you. Please forgive me for not telling you. I tried to protect you. Let’s talk again when you’re ready to say yours out loud. Take care, little one.

I typed a response but didn’t push send.

Say mine out loud…. What does he know?

I shivered, thinking about anyone knowing the secret of the night after Thanksgiving. The living nightmare, the monster with dull green eyes—Ian. The horror I had buried deep in the back of my mind.

A slight knock interrupted my thoughts.

“Steve is here.” Mary opened the door. “I’m serving him breakfast. Are you feeling okay?”

I nodded and got ready for another busy day. My job came first. The children counted on me, the youth centers needed new equipment, and the latest medical project we were developing waited to be launched. Dan, Mom, and everyone else were carrying on with their lives, and so would I.

After breakfast, Steve and I worked on the guidelines for the medical project. I needed to meet with the doctor Dan recruited, to make some final adjustments. When we finished after three, we agreed to meet the following morning at the office, instead of at home. I had an appointment early in the morning to get an x-ray of my leg. The orthopedist had requested it to make sure my leg had healed, and barring anything unforeseen, he would take off the cast at our next appointment. The physical therapist Dan had hired would take over my recovery. After eight weeks of immobilization, my leg would be stiff and require exercise and massages.

The next morning, Bryan and I left home early enough to beat traffic and arrived on time for my x-ray appointment. Though the place was crowded, they were able to move the lines in sync with the designated times each patient had.

“Everything came out fine, Miss Trent?” Bryan asked while he helped me getting inside the car.

I nodded. The technician didn’t see any problems. “My cast should be off a week from now,” I told Bryan, when he got inside the car. Then I asked him the one question that had been nagging me all around. “Do you know when your assignment ends?” Dan and I were no longer friends, and the cast was coming off.

Bryan eyed me, confused.

“Well, your only task for the last few weeks has been to drive me around when I needed to go out.”

“My job,” he said steadily, “is to be at your service. I’m a security guard. Protecting you is the main goal, which makes accompanying and driving you a part of the package. After your cast comes off, I’ll be busier. You won’t be staying in a secure building. The real deal starts.”

I turned to the window. Dan’s disappearance, our fallout, and the end of our friendship had changed his assignment, but Bryan hadn’t been informed. I wondered how soon Dan would take him away from my service. There was no point in protecting me, when we were no longer friends.

“Have you heard from Nate?” I realized that asking Bryan about his boss’ whereabouts gave me the exact location of Dan, and at times, his schedule.

“Nate’s in Australia. He’s been bitching about the weather. He said he preferred the cold and the company of his wife, but it doesn’t look like he’s going to get either of his wishes. In four days, they’re traveling to the Philippines.”

I gasped. The Philippines didn’t sound safe. Feeling bold, I asked for the security details. Apparently,
Mr. Brightmore’s
new venture was an international security company—Nate’s idea after a recent incident. I held my breath, mouth gaped. Did something happened to him that I didn’t know? Yes, we withheld things from each other. I hated it when he was right, but I resented the gap we’d created more, and needed to find out why we’d done it.

“Thank you, Bryan,” I said, when he helped me out of the car and handed me the crutches. “Tell Nate to keep him safe.”

* * * * *

When I arrived at my office, I found Steve sitting at my desk, discussing the foundation’s Gala Dinner with Tyler. “You’re in town?” His friendly smile reaching all the way to his blue eyes, brightening up my day. “When did you arrive? You should have called me. Where are you staying?”

“Hello, little kangaroo.” He walked towards me and gave me a heartfelt hug. “The crutches look nice against the wall. Part of the decoration?” Tyler eyed them, an unfair comment when I just leaned them over as I arrived and spotted his shaggy light brown hair being messed up by his hand. The guy ran his hand through his hair once every minute, and ten if he was stressed. I wanted to slap his hand when I saw him doing it.

“Why am I here in Boston? It’s complicated. We’ll talk about it all at lunch. I came to see you to discuss the logo for the Gala Dinner and confirm the location. Will—” A noisy vibration coming from his pocket interrupted him. Shaking his head he took the call.

He walked to the farthest corner of the room. Steve’s gaze followed him. “Sanders here. Yes. We killed them. You never care for those stories.” He blew some air and ran a hand through his hair. “Yes, they’ve always been shit…. Means that much, huh? I’m at the foundation while in Boston. Hmm, not much.” He glanced me over. “She’s fine…. I’ve got to do it. I’ll do my best…. Can you blame her? I tried to— Yes, I’ve done the same. Take care, man…. When it’s done.” Tyler clenched his teeth. “I’m in the middle of a meeting, but any messages for her?” He leaned against the wall and laughed. “Chicken shit. Talk to you later.”

He hung up, but immediately dialed again. Tyler went on with his assistant about the project they about finished. The personal life of a certain celebrity was off limits from now on, it had become a full time job for someone within the agency. He approved the standard letter that the media would receive in the foreseen future. I guessed the usual no comment, which was lingo for
it is true, stay away from their business
.

“Can I guess?” My instincts told me he had a famous client with publicity issues—not his first rodeo. “It’s a high power man with a mistress?”

“Nope.” He smirked.

“There’s a woman involved,” I insisted, and he nodded running his hand through his hair.
Stop that
. “And some rich bastard hiding his dirty laundry. An actor?”

“Businessman,” he responded flatly.

Ty sighed, and filled me in without giving many specifics. “Imagine a rich boy with a successful business who was living the playboy dream. Tons of hot, famous women threw themselves at him, hoping to tame him. It never happened, but his face became profitable for the paparazzi. Fast-forward six years, and he falls for a girl. He cleans up his act and devotes his time to her, but the journalistic-sharks snap pictures of him whenever possible and fabricate stories. Those lies indirectly affect his relationship.”

“Boring.” I faked a yawn. “A juicer story next time, Sanders. I wish the couple luck.” I smiled and grabbed the logos he’d brought. “This one.” I pointed to the pink and sage logo. “It’ll be perfect.”

* * * * *

As Ty drove to a hole in the wall near Harvard square, we chatted about his family—mostly that adorable troublemaker, Matt. It seemed he’d taken to hunting bugs. He and the dog spent hours in the garden searching for them. They had a collection of crystal jars filled with his prizes. At night, Ash and Ty released the poor animals, only to repeat the odyssey the next day.

For now, he was missing all that. Tyler took a week of vacation to handle a delicate situation. However, the reason for his visit became insignificant when Dan and other emergencies at the office occupied his time. Dan's time-zone hopping gave him the most trouble. On top of it, today the art department had finished the logos and sent them to Ty for my approval. The family affairs he came to handle became a secondary matter.

I froze. Suddenly everything around me began to move incoherently, and Ty’s words stopped making sense. Because he didn’t have any have family in Massachusetts. My heart beat faster. “What family, Ty?”

“Greg, my father.” His flat voice didn’t stop my heart from racing. “They lost the house in Arizona. Lisa’s money has ceased to exist. They’re moving back to the Sudbury house.”

None if it made sense. “Why not sell the house and stay in Arizona?”
Far away from me.
I closed my eyes, swallowing the news.

“There’s no point, they already lost it.” He answered as a matter of fact, and ran both hands through his hair. “I swear, I asked Daniel to tell you two months ago, but he was
‘protecting you.’
” He used the index and ring finger of both hands to simulate quotation marks. “Don’t get mad at me.”

“So, if they sell the house in Sudbury, they can leave Massachusetts?” Paralyzed, the waitress stared at my outburst instead of delivering the food. “I can’t have this discussion, I need my therapist. I don’t want closure, I want to forget.”
Deep breaths, Becca.
Tyler observed me, his body half off the chair, as if he didn’t know what to do.
Run away?
“Someone make all this go away.”

My words tripped one against the other and came out all wrong, along with my emotions.

“Why would you want to involve me? You know how things ended between Mom and me.”

“Your grandma left the house to you.” I gawked at him. “Your mom didn’t give a shit about it at the time. You were eight. When you went away to college, Dad leased the property. Before they lost the house in Arizona, Dad thought about selling. But they couldn’t without your signature. When the house went into foreclosure, they tried to contact you, but Dan has been blocking them since then.”

“There’s something else.” What could be worse? I waited for him to drop the next bomb. “Your Mom was diagnosed with lung cancer a year ago. She didn’t respond well to the first treatments.”

Was I supposed to cry? Feel bad for the woman who didn’t care for me? My heart clenched―she gave me life after all. But what was I to do with all this information? Run to her open arms, and reconcile with her while she found a cure.

“Raj took over her case, and he gave them hope.” Tyler continued the conversation without waiting for me to adjust to his news. “Greg’s skeptical. The second doctor they saw had recommended a marrow transplant, but they hadn’t found a match. Dan is opposed to it.”

“Does she still need it?” I asked, while I tried to remember where I’ve heard a familiar story. But nothing came to mind. I concentrated in the now, how would I get rid of Donna and Greg Sanders. “Get the house in the market, after the sale, I’ll give them the
profits so they can leave town.”

Tyler ran a hand through his hair, and twitched his mouth as if he was solving an impossible crossword. “Raj didn’t mention the transplant. About the house―they need it to live in. They’ll be missing the rent, but Raj, her
doctor works here. In Boston.”

Like a brat, I wanted to stomp my feet and tell Tyler that Raj was my friend and he shouldn’t be helping them. Defeated, I joined the cause; I was a sucker for the less fortunate. I offered to help with the medical bills, but Dan had taken care of them already. Ty had set up a small trust that covered utilities, food, and other essentials. Greg’s former legal firm had given him a consulting gig.

“Is she going to die?” My only flesh and blood, the woman who’d disowned me, was sick. The seconds it took Ty to answer stretched into hours and days. The chills running through my body increased.

“We don’t know.” He grabbed my hand, which I then realized was shaking like the rest of my body. “I hope she doesn’t. It’ll kill dad. We lost Mom when I was fourteen, and he didn’t take it well.”

“What happened to her?” I dared to ask. The lack of communication between me and the Sanders family never let me get to know their story.

“She killed herself. She was bipolar… diagnosed, but she didn’t like to take her meds. Dad had taken me to a soccer tournament that weekend. It was a guys' weekend, a bonding thing we still did back in those days.” Ty gulped his beer, squeezing the neck of the bottle so tight his knuckles turned white. “Between the games and activities, Greg didn’t have time to check on them. When we got home on Sunday,” Ty finished his beer in two gulps, and slumped, his tall figure reduced to a defenseless teenager, and his gaze thousands of years away, “we found Lisa sitting in the bathroom next to the tub, she was nine back then. ‘Mom fell asleep in the bath,’ she said. She’d overdosed and drowned. The coroner later told us she’d been dead since Saturday.

“Dad attributed her death to me. I blamed him.” Ty shrugged, but his eyes were full of pain. “After that, Lisa became his world. She could do no wrong. I talked to my grandfather about it. Suggested therapy for my sister. But no one listened. The girl saw her mother die, and they didn’t help her.”