Always Us by Lizzie Morton

 

 

 

Twenty-Two

 

 

Abby

 

 

There are penises everywhere, literally everywhere I turn. It’s overwhelming and I don’t know where to look. What else would I expect sitting in my mom’s office, she is a sex columnist after all. I’ve been waiting over half an hour, as she’s been stuck in a meeting. That’s what happens when you turn up to surprise someone: things don’t always go to plan.

“Are you sure I can’t get you anything, Abby?” Her secretary stands at the office door, asking me for the fifth time since I arrived.

I shake my head, the same as I did the other four times she asked. “Honestly, I’m fine.”

The flight had some nasty turbulence that unsettled me, and my stomach’s seen better days. The thought of coffee or anything else for that matter, is a no go.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been home, having allowed Jake to drive me out of the city for a second time. But where else do you go when your life feels like it’s spinning out of control? I wanted the visit to be a surprise, and thanks to Mom linking all our digital calendars together in the hope one day I would return, I knew that neither of my parents were working outside of the city.

Slouching down into my chair, I pre-empt that it’s going to be a while before she gets here, so I shut my eyes to catch up on some of the sleep I missed. How people manage to sleep on flights is beyond me, they’re ridiculously uncomfortable. Throw the events of the summer into the mix making my mind whirl for the whole journey, and any hope of sleep was long gone. It doesn’t take long to drift into a deep slumber. With the soft whir of the air con in the background, it’s bliss.

I’ve no idea how long I’ve been out, when someone begins gently shaking me and a voice stirs me from my sleep.

“Abby, baby, it’s me. Wake up.”

It takes a while, but I manage to wake up, and find myself looking into the familiar eyes of my mom. I still feel groggy, but it doesn’t stop me leaping out of my seat, throwing my arms around her and drinking in every part of the moment. I didn’t realize how much I missed and needed her until now.

We eventually part and she puts some space between us, heading over to her coffee machine and making us both a cup. She hands me one and sits behind her desk. I wrinkle my nose at the cup, my stomach still not settled from the flight.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” she says sarcastically.

“Really, Mom?”

“It’s been a long time since you’ve been home. I’m guessing it’s not a coincidence it happens to coincide with a certain someone not being in the country.”

“Sorry.” I look down at my lap guiltily.

“You never have to apologize, baby. Just promise me you’re looking after yourself. You look like shit. Are you eating?”

“Thanks for that. There was turbulence on the plane, so I’ve seen better days.” She hums to herself before taking a sip of coffee. “What’s with all the erm… penises?”

“Annual awards for best of the bunch. They’re samples that have been sent out,” she says.

Being a sex columnist means being surrounded by penises is her job, so it doesn’t faze her. There have been moments where it’s been embarrassing, but my friends have always thought it’s the coolest and funniest thing. She might be a bit off the wall sometimes, but she’s an amazing mom who I can talk to about anything.

“It’s good being home,” I say.

“It’s good having you home, and a very welcome surprise. I don’t want to come across as abrupt, but why are you here?”

“Do you even need to ask?”

“Jake?”

“Always, Jake.”

I gaze out of her window at the New York skyline. It’s an unusually overcast and foggy day, for the middle of the summer, but it’s fitting with my mood.

“How about I finish up here early and we get home? You can rest and then we can deal with whatever is wrong when your father is home?”

“That would be nice.”

I exhale slowly, allowing some of the anxiety that has built over the summer to seep away.

 

***

 

Nothing beats being in your childhood bed. A three-hour nap later and I feel considerably fresher than when I first arrived back in New York. Walking downstairs into the kitchen, my stomach grumbles when I inhale the aromas of my mom’s cooking. I can’t remember the last time I had a home cooked meal and I’m salivating at the thought of all the food.

She spins around and smiles. “Your father’s just freshening up before dinner. How about we all eat before we take on the world?”

Chuckling, I reply, “It’s hardly taking on the world, Mom.”

“It might not be in a literal sense, but sometimes it can feel that way. Don’t belittle your woes, Abby. What have I told you about internalizing things? It always comes back to bite you in the ass.”

We don’t get a chance to take the conversation any further as my dad enters the room, beaming with open arms.

“Here she is!”

“Daddy!” I squeal, running to him and engulfing him in a hug.

“How are you doing my little Abby bear?”

“Dad, I’m not little anymore.”

“Humor me.” He winks, and I see a few tears in his eyes. It’s been too long.

Responding to his original question, I say, “I’m okay.”

I give him a small smile I hope is convincing, before looking greedily at the food Mom has laid out on the table.

He follows my eyes. “… by the look on your face, you’re also hungry. Eat first, talk later.”

It doesn’t take long for me to devour everything in sight.

“Have you not eaten this summer?” Dad asks, amused.

“Not on the plane. Turbulence.”

I must look a sight as I reply with a mouth full of food, some of which spills back out on to my plate. I’m glad it’s only my parents here to witness this.

“Sorry,” I say which causes more food to fall out of my mouth.

Mom shakes her head. “It’s good to see you’ve perked up.” She looks over to my dad and explains, “She looked like shit earlier.”

“Mom!”

“Well, you did. There’s no point beating around the bush. Speaking of. Why are you here, Abby?”

Both my parents stare at me with a serious expression on their faces.

“You know why.”

Wiping my mouth with a napkin, I lean back in my chair content.

“Jake?” Dad asks, not needing a prompt.

“Am I so obvious?”

“You only tend to appear where he isn’t. And as he isn’t in the city at the moment, and you’ve run away from where he was, so I’m assuming it has something to do with him.”

Not able to hold in the other key piece of information they’re missing, I blurt out, “I met someone this summer.”

“Really? You did?” Mom’s expression is ecstatic.

She doesn’t hate Jake, but she isn’t the biggest fan of the two of us together, not after witnessing everything I’ve been through over the years thanks to him. If I really want them to give me some solid advice, they need to know all the details.

“Jake and I may also have rekindled things on more than one occasion …”

“Oh.” She takes a sip of her wine, waiting for me to expand on this tidbit of information.

I pick up my own glass, staring at the crisp white liquid, hoping it might somehow fix all my problems. “Yeah, oh. I don’t have a clue what I’m doing anymore.”

“Who is the new guy?” Dad asks.

His tone is authoritative and protective at the same time, after all, I’m still his little Abby bear.

“Dan White …” I almost whisper.

Many parents wouldn’t have a clue who he was, but Dad being an exec. in the music industry will no doubt know all about him. Not surprisingly, his eyebrows shoot up as he instantly recognizes the name.

“From Six Seconds to Barcelona?”

“The one and only.”

“Wow.” It takes a lot to shock him.

“You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

I try to keep the annoyance out of my voice when I look him in the eye. It’s clear he’s trying to figure out why a huge rock star would be with me.

“It’s not that. You know you’re worthy of anyone, more than worthy. But he’s a big deal, a really big deal.”

“You think I don’t know that? It’s part of what’s making all of this so much harder.” I want to slam my head against the table in Zoe fashion, but I know Mom would tell me to get it together and stop acting like a drama queen.

“How did the two of you meet?” Mom has a starry look in her eyes. I can tell her mind is in overdrive thinking up all sorts of picture-perfect scenarios of my first meeting with Dan.

She’s a sucker for romance.

“We actually met in Barcelona,” I say.

She frowns as she puts the dates together. “But that was weeks ago? Why are you only just telling us about him?”

“We didn’t go on a date for a while, we were both busy working. Plus, I didn’t want to jinx it. Especially with Jake lurking around every corner, doing whatever he could to make sure we didn’t get together.”

Mom asks the obvious. “So, he’s not taking it well?”

“That’s one way of putting it …” I say bitterly.

Dad scowls and I know he’s drawing up his own conclusions to what’s really been going on.

“He’s been treating you well though?” he asks.

I shrug. “As well as can be, considering the circumstances.”

He doesn’t need to know exactly what’s happened this summer. It’s important I remember they work together. My father has had a crucial part to play in the band’s success as he’s the one who signed them to the record label. If he catches wind of some of the things Jake’s been up to, it could jeopardize their reputation and everything they’ve worked for. Revealing too much, for the sake of needing to vent, isn’t worth the risk.

“What exactly does that mean?” He knows I’m skirting around the subject and not giving the full truth.

“He’s been fine, Dad. You don’t need to worry.”

“Do I need to kick his ass?”

“No!” I say, alarmed. He’s not taking this well at all. “No asses will be kicked. Promise me?” He grumbles to himself, then picks up his own glass of wine, finishing it in one go then instantly refilling the glass, full to the brim. When I can see he’s calmed a little and is ready to take on more information, I continue, “He just won’t leave it.”

Mom chooses to take over the questioning. “Leave what?”

“Us. He keeps saying I’m his. That we’re not done.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

Her question comes out cautiously. She wants to urge me to continue and to know all the details, but she also knows I have a bad habit of shutting down when it comes to anything related to Jake.

I take a moment to decide on an answer and realize I can’t sum up how I’m feeling with just one word, so I spew it out all in one go.

“I’m a mess. I feel confused, angry, frustrated, upset. The full shazam.”

“A bit all over the place then?”

“That’s one way of putting it.” I let out a breath and continue, needing to voice how I’m really feeling after holding it in for weeks. “I’ve spent two years trying to move on from him again. It took everything in me to walk away and here he is … again. He thinks he can just waltz back into my life and demand whatever he wants, acts like it wasn’t hard for me to walk away. He doesn’t get that I did it for the both of us, to help us.”

“Maybe it’s a sign he’s finally fighting for you. Doing what he should have done a long time ago, and proving that he’s the one for you?”

It irks me how much truth there is to her words. I want it to be that Jake is just acting like a possessive asshole, but deep down I know that’s not the case.

“He knows what I need, and he still won’t give it to me, Mom. We just keep dancing around in circles having the same argument over and over.”

“What is it that you need from him?”

“The truth! That’s all I’ve ever asked for, is the truth,” I exclaim. “Eight years it’s been, and I still don’t know why he walked away after telling me he loved me. How can I commit to someone when I can’t trust them? How can I hand him my heart again after he stomped all over it?”

After remaining silent throughout my outburst, my dad finally speaks up. “If you get the truth, will it make any difference?”

“I don’t understand what you’re asking me?”

“When all this is said and done, will knowing the truth change how you feel? Will it really make that much of a difference?”

“Yes.” I don’t know why he thinks my answer would be anything else.

“So, you’re telling us, if Jake turned around and told you the truth, told you what happened back then, you would drop everything for him. You would give up everything to be with him?”

I automatically go to say yes, but then stop in my tracks. “I …” Nobody has ever asked me that. I’ve not even asked it to myself. I’ve gotten so used to Jake refusing to tell me what happened over the years, that I’ve resigned myself to it never happening, never thought what would happen when he finally does.

“It seems to me that this is all an excuse to avoid facing up to how you really feel.”

“Dad, really?”

He’s hit the nail on the head and the stubborn part of me refuses to admit that he’s right.

“I know you, Abby. I know you’re scared, and I know you’re using this as a reason to not have to deal with things and make a decision. But at some point, you’re going to have to. It’s not fair on Jake and it’s not fair on you. How do you ever expect to move on and live your life if you’re always living in the past?”

“Mom?” I look to her for help.

All I get is a solemn shake of the head. “Your father has said it all. You need to make a choice, Abby. With or without the truth. I agree with your father though. I don’t believe having the truth will make your decision any easier. It won’t change the fact he still walked away. He hurt you and it still makes you angry, so what does the truth really matter? What matters is whether you can move past it all, whatever the reason may have been, and whether your feelings for him are worth putting your heart on the line again. You need to decide if you can trust him.”

Later that night, I lay in bed, mulling over the conversation with my parents. For so long I’ve been solely focused on getting the truth from Jake, that I never contemplated whether I would feel any different once I had it. After everything that’s happened between us, the real question is, does it really matter anymore, and will it have any impact on the decision I finally make?

As I toss and turn all night long, dreaming of both Dan and Jake, I realize that no, it probably doesn’t matter.

But am I ready to choose between my head and my heart?

 

***

 

My time back home doesn’t seem to last anywhere near long enough, and I couldn’t leave Brooklyn without making one final stop to someone who needs help as much as I do.

I hum with excitement as I step through the doors of Riffs. It’s exactly how I remember from when I worked here a couple of summers ago. As expected, I find Shaun standing behind the bar, surrounded by a gaggle of women.

He looks up as I enter, startled to see me. Immediately, he says goodbye to the disappointed women, who turn to stare me down for interrupting their time with him.

“Abby, what are you doing here?” He envelopes me in a friendly hug.

“I was in town, passing by.”

“All the way from Europe? It’s hardly a cab ride away.”

“I actually was in town. You’re not the only one who had to get away that last night in Benicassim.”

Sadness passes over his face at the mention of that night, then he asks, “Drink?”

“Please,” I nod, before grabbing a table and getting myself comfortable, while he gathers some supplies together.

He returns with a tray full of drinks and snacks.

I shoot him a look and say, “Planning a party?”

“I assume I’m not the only one with a broken heart at the moment.”

“True. However, mine’s never not been broken, and everyone knows that. You, my friend, have some explaining to do.”

He looks uncomfortable and takes a long drink.

“There’s not much to tell. Zoe summed it up rather graciously. We fucked, that’s all it was.”

I take a large gulp of my own drink and sit for a few seconds, contemplating what to do next. I decide we’ve always had the sort of friendship where we haven’t held things back and now isn’t the time to start.

“I know she’s The One,” I confirm.

“What are you talking about?” He tries to feign not knowing what I’m referring to, but I don’t let him off the hook easily.

“The summer I came home. I remember having a conversation with you. You told me how you’d found The One, but you wouldn’t tell me who it was. I also remember a couple of occasions where I saw you looking at Zoe and thought to myself there’s something going on there. It’s her isn’t it? Zoe. She’s The One.”

He doesn’t reply straight away, just sits playing with a pot of peanuts which I make a mental note not to eat after he spends so long fingering them. I can tell by his face that he’s trying to decide whether to let me in and tell me how he’s really feeling.

As he needs a bit of a prompt, I say, “Shaun, you can trust me.”

It’s ironic that I’m so invested in getting him to speak out about how he’s feeling, when I myself do anything but.

Defeated, he says, “I love her, Abby.”

I don’t give anything away in my expression, I don’t even blink.

“Does she know?”

“She hasn’t got a clue. I think us sleeping together was the first time she’s ever considered that I might be remotely interested. You heard the way she described it. It was just a quick fuck to her.”

Seeing how torn he looks makes me feel like my heart could break all over again. I want to make things better between them, but I don’t know if I can, it’s not my problem to fix.

“I’m assuming it wasn’t just that to you?”

“Of course, it wasn’t. I’m not sure how it happened, but she means so much more to me than that. She’s so lost in herself though, in showing the world that she doesn’t give a shit about anything, that she’s stopped seeing things for what they really are. It’s like she’s pretended she doesn’t care for so long that she’s actually stopped. Unless it’s to do with you or Soph.”

I don’t know why I do, but I apologize. “Sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. At least she cares about something, otherwise I’d be really worried. I don’t know what to do. There’s only so long you can wait around hoping the other person sees the light. Youget how that feels, right?”

Out of nowhere, my eyes start to water, as I’m overcome with emotion. What he’s said has touched a nerve.

“I get you. More than you know.”

He grimaces when he in turn sees the sadness written all over my face. “Jake won’t walk away. He won’t go down without a fight.”

“I know and that’s what scares the shit out of me.”

“Why? He loves you.”

“Does he though?”

“He’s pined over you for eight years, Abby. Eight, goddamn years. If that doesn’t prove something to you, I don’t know what will. What will it take for him to show you how much he cares?”

It’s only later, at home in my bed, that I think to myself, is it possible that all along it’s never been about why Jake did it, but the fact he did?

It comes down to trust.

No matter what the reasoning, it still happened.

He didn’t trust me with his heart … so how can I trust him with mine?