Page 88 of Present Tense

52

LIAM

That fucking woman. She’s been gone for a month, yet her scent still lingers. I’ve scrubbed. I’ve left all the windows open, and still, she persists. We’re broken up. She’s insane if she thinks we’re not. I can’t be with her and hold onto my sanity.

And then my fucking phone rings. I’m told there’s been a setback in Jeffery’s detox. I’m on the paperwork. Apparently, he left rehab independently and wound up in the hospital again. He was found by the cleaning woman Jillien pays for. According to the doctor, I’m listed as his only emergency contact, and his housing won’t take him back until he’s completed rehab. So here I am, pulling into a fucking hospital in Philly after I’ve severed all ties to the place and her.

I turned down the Boston job, and I’m going to hang a shingle of my own out on the island. I gave Lisa a great deal on the house. I did it for her kids and myself. Hopefully, she gains a dose of humility now that her husband’s left her, but I doubt it. She and I will never be the same, and that’s ok. She tried to tell me Jillien had moved on by showing me a picture of her at a work event. I knew it was a lie. She looked stunning, but it was still painful to see her.

Bev was totally on board with me letting go of that museum of a house. It was a testament and memory of our lives gone by, and I was simply tidying up for the specters and dust bunnies. I feel better and worse up in my Vineyard house. Better because it feels like forward motion. It’s closer to the life I want. The ocean, the private practice, and the place that I love. The house that’s completely mine, except for her damn smell.

He’s waiting with an orderly at the Panera attached to the hospital. I have been happier and sadder in the last nine months than I ever have before. I desperately wanted to be cavalier, confident, and interesting when I was younger. I also wanted to be unafraid to go after what I wanted. Except for Jillien, I went after everything I’d wanted when I was young. Somewhere along the way, I let fear creep in and change me. I pretended the status quo was acceptable and that flimsy kitchen chairs picked out by someone else were ok. I allowed my life to become fine instead of good. I started to color inside the lines.

Jillien, she set me free to scribble. Jilly’s warring against herself. But there’s no path forward for us that doesn’t go through the man sitting across from me at this dank and crowded Panera Bread. If it’s by myself, so be it, but she should have the freedom to choose her own path, too.

I play with the cardboard sleeve of my coffee as he settles in his seat. I blurt it out, “You have to release her from guilt, and your expectations of her. You’ve never lauded or cared enough to call or send a card when she accomplishes anything. And you’re missing out on a hell of a grandson. Sir. Just choose. You can’t be dismissive of her life and accomplishments and demand she take care of you and run yours.”

“Where is my deadbeat daughter?” And now I’m pissed. “She’s succeeded in finally humiliating me. I have to beg her ex to release me from this hellhole?”

“She’s not here because when you were drunk you made me your power of attorney, sir. You released her from your big decisions. Now finish it.”

“Jillien will be here. She always shows up. Even though it was my son who decided to put me into the drunk clink this time, she’ll be here.” He sits back in his chair, smug and confident.

“Jillien won’t be here. Just me, and I drove six hours to sit here and watch you sip your tepid coffee. Say what the fuck you need so I can be done with this. So you can go back to carving out the loneliest existence. And stop dismissing a process that’s worked for millions to regain their lives. You don’t want it, fine, but shut your judgmental ass up.”

“She set this up to embarrass me.”

“Fucking get over this. You did this. You finally accomplished pushing her away. It’s killing her. She pushes herself so hard to be perfect. To make sure all of you are taken care of. To be the perfect mom, perfect at her job. She tries to be exactly what people need and expect all the time because the little girl in her just wants you to show up for her fucking dance recital.”

“I was there,” he says and stares at me.

Fuck him. I’m not afraid of him. I’m not Jillien. I don’t need him to like me.

“You missed her dance. You were at a bar.”

“How would you know?” His tone is cruel, but his voice cracks.

“Because I was there. My whole family was there. You were with work colleagues and my father didn’t go because he went to her recital. We watched you arrive late.” I lean forward, daring him to come at me.

“I don’t know why you’re here talking to me about this. All this crap was so long ago, it can’t matter now. I’ve always liked you, son.”

“Do not call me that. You have one of those, too, somewhere. Call him.”

“I don’t like your tone.”

“Then why the hell am I your emergency contact? What did you think I would do? Let your drunk ass off the hook?”

“I’m not a drunk. Drunks are rummies and out-of-work people.”

I don’t hesitate to launch on him. “You fucking snob. Is it pride keeping you from participating in your own life? The disease doesn’t give a damn if you’re rich or poor. And it most certainly isn’t aware of race or gender. Drunk is drunk. Or is it you’ve forgotten how to be a decent person? I’m here for all of it right now. If you said you wanted to get help and stayed with it, I’m here for you. I’m here because I’m in love with your daughter. She’s my rolling O. She’s my perfect match. She’s the one who colors everything, and turns the volume up to eleven. And I love your grandson. He’s smart and snarky. He’s timid and brilliant. He challenges me in ways I never thought possible, and makes me a better man. I want to give him all the things you never gave Jillien. Things I was lucky enough to have. But you’re standing in my way, and I don’t think I’ll ever get a chance at that happiness because of your miserable ass. And neither will she.”

“Why not? You were happy. You were with her. Did you fuck it up?”

“Fuck off, sir. You fucked up my happiness. She can’t seem to choose herself without a hefty dose of guilt, and I won’t pay for your fucking sins.”

He sips his coffee and stands up. It takes him an elaborate second, and I hear him make an audible noise as he tries to straighten his spine and winces. I watch him and let him have the higher ground. I don’t need it.

“She’s fine.”