I haven’t been taking care of myself. That much is apparent. Now that I have Lucy, I need to so I can be a solid presence for her. I want to do it differently than my own parents did. They weren’t the most affectionate parents around, but they weren’t bad parents either. I was the kid who would get in trouble and think, “Oh man, my parents are going to kill me.” I could never talk openly with them. It was the ‘90s; everyone I knew had a similar relationship with their parents. Adults would tiptoe around uncomfortable topics, and we learned about the world through experience, often by doing things that were dangerous or just plain stupid.
Nevertheless, I feared their disappointment until my fear became apathy. I think it was the fifth time I showed up to school drunk that my dad reached his breaking point, and they realized they were in over their heads with me. They called Dr. Stevens, and even though I didn’t say much to him for months at a time, Ididhear him.
Doc became the only adult I could say things to who wouldn’t run in the other direction, no matter how dark it was. He recognized the pain I was in, but he didn’t crucify me for the things I did to numb it. He never patronized me, he empowered me. As years went on, I continued my therapy with him, and I learned to recognize the signs that I was falling back into my old ways. I learned my triggers. In a way, he saved my life. That’s why calling him this morning and asking for his help again is a no-brainer.
“Liam! What can I do for you?” he says, answering the phone jovially. I was awarded his personal number the day it became apparent that I would need to be a lifetime patient.
“Hey, Doc,” I say, hesitating before I remember that I can tell this guy pretty much anything and he won’t turn away from me. “I think I need to come in and see you. The nightmares are back.”
Doc is quiet for a moment and then he says, “Okay, Liam. I understand. You’ve had a lot happen in the past few months. How is tomorrow at nine?”
“Tomorrow at nine is great. Thanks,” I say, breathing a sigh of relief. “How ‘bout them Phils?”
* * *
I’ve spentmuch of this Monday in my own head. After waking up and handing Lucy over to Ellie, I run to the gym for a workout, reflecting on life the whole way there. Despite having every possible wrench thrown in my path, I still try to improve each day. I am a good person; I know who I am. Making a decent living, following my gut, and focusing on my family, even if they’re found family, are the only ways to overcome my demons. I’m doing the best I can.
I’m halfway down our street when I see what I think is Sophie’s white SUV pulling into Ellie’s driveway. I pick up my pace to a sprint to make sure I catch her. She hasn’t even gotten out of her car when I reach the driveway in record time. I put my hands on my knees to catch my breath, and I’m huffing and puffing when she gets out of the car. I look up in time to see her giving me a sidelong glance. “You ok?” she asks, giving me the side-eye.
I take a gasping breath and stand up, wiping the sweat from my brow. “I’m good. Just doing some sprints.” I put my hands on my hips and pace back and forth, playing it cool while she opens her trunk.
Neither of us speaks for a few moments. Me, because I’m still trying to get my lungs to physically pump oxygen, and Sophie because she appears to be making herself busy rummaging around in her trunk for god knows what.
“That’s a lot of boxes,” I muse, attempting to break the ice.Smooth. Real smooth.
Sophie raises her eyebrows and nods at me as if to sayduh.She probably doesn’t know how to be rude though so she just says, “Yeah, I have them stuffed in every square inch of this car. I hope Ellie doesn’t mind all of my crap.”
I can’t hide my surprise and Sophie notices because she has a small smirk playing on her lips. She seems like she’s holding back, and I wonder if she is remembering Friday night. “Oh… Are you moving?” Now I’m fishing for information.
“Yeah. I am,” she says and moves to grab one of the boxes from her trunk.
I attempt to take it from her, but she turns away too quickly. “I can help you,” I say.
“That’s okay,” she says with a bite. “I loaded it all in by myself. I’ve got it.” She starts toward Ellie’s front step, but I catch her elbow.
“Sophie,” my voice comes out hoarse.Why is this so hard for me?I clear my throat and try again. “Did you get my text? I wanted to see if we could find some time to talk.”
Sophie opens and closes her mouth for a beat before she says, “I did. It’s okay, Liam. We don’t need to talk.” She looks away but doesn’t move.
I realize she isn’t going to give me the opportunity to explain myself unless I do it right now. I swallow, working up the nerve. “Sophie, I’m sorry. I had a weird night on Friday, and I realize you don’t even know me or care about me so maybe you don’t want to hear it. But I took my shit out on you and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said.” I’m still holding her elbow, and I’m trying not to focus on the fact that my fingertips are vibrating at the closeness of our skin.
Sophie sighs and puts the box down at her feet, breaking the contact. “It’s okay, Liam. We all have our own problems. Consider it forgotten.” She gives me a half-smile, but it’s not warm.
I exhale. “Okay. I know. I was rude… It won’t happen again.” I bend down to pick up the box she set down. “So…inside?”
Now I see it, the slight upward pull of her lips that tells me she wants to relax with me, but she’s still got her guard up. I can work with that.
17
SOPHIE
Liam is holding my heaviest box that’s full of every shoe I own and looking at me expectantly. I bite my lip to keep from fully letting him read me. I know he probably is curious about why we’re going inside and not back out to the guest house. I’m already distracted by the sizzle I felt when he touched my elbow, and I’m annoyed at myself for wishing he’d do it again, especially because the last time we spoke was so contentious. “Uh…yeah, inside. I’m going to be staying there for the next few weeks until I figure things out.”
Could this be any more awkward?
Liam nods but doesn’t ask me any more questions. “Inside. Got it.” He brushes past me with the box, and I follow him without grabbing another one. “Ellie!” He bellows as I follow him in. “Sophie’s back!”
Ellie rounds the corner from the kitchen and smiles so genuinely I think of a mother seeing her long-lost child. “Sophie! I’m so glad to have you back.” She embraces me and I’m covered in maternal warmth. “And staying in the house with me! We’re going to have so much fun together! LikeThe Golden Girls!”