Page 65
“Hello, Rittenhouse Hotel. How may I direct your call?”
“Jillien Meier’s room, please.”
“One moment.” Fucking busted. She always stays at that stupid hotel. She didn’t even stay at my fucking house. Separate everything. I breathe in and out to calm myself.
“Hello?” she answers, confused.
“Do you want to do this over the phone or meet me at my house?”
She inhales sharply. Then exhales my name, “Liam. Shit. I was going to tell you everything.”
“Answer the question, Jill.”
There’s a long pause. Then she answers, “I’ll be at your house in ten.”
I hang up, digging my fingernails into my palms, trying to calm down. And attempting to get rid of the familiar feeling of being lied to. Also, I’m thoroughly pissed off there’s a chink in her armor. And now that the crack has been revealed, it’s like someone turned on a fluorescent light, and all her flaws are on display. I’m taking my cats back to Chicago. If I go back.
I walk around the back of the house where the sweet smell of cherry blossoms hit my nose, and it smells like home. I forgot to prune it in the winter, and it’s wild and uninhibited. It’s the way I know Jilly wants to be, but she keeps this burden of responsibility weighing her down. And each piece of her life neatly tucked into the appropriate slot. I open the back screen porch and throw my bag onto a chair when Malakai slinks up to greet me. This cat should be at my mom’s house. She’s indoor/outdoor, so she must travel the distance daily to come sit in her spot in the sun. I scoop her up and nuzzle her to my neck. She purrs instantly. She stays close for a second, then wiggles and almost scratches me to get away.
“Sure. Sure. Just like all the women in my life. Snuggle up at first. Then lie and run away.”
I look down at my feet as my black and white cat goes back to her sunny spot.
“I didn’t lie—a lot” I jump. I didn’t see her there. I turn to her as she continues speaking.
“I was in Maryland checking out a rehab facility, but we found a bed closer to Philly. And I’m not running away.” Those aren’t Jilly’s eyes. Those are eighty-year-old bloodshot zombie eyes. The dark circles and dirty hair piled on top of her head tell me this is different. This is worse. I won’t add to it right now. I step inside the screen door of my house. The smell of Jill mixed with my history is overwhelming. I pull her to me, and without protest, she holds me. I expected her to cry, but she’s not. The soft parts of her are hiding from me. The juicy, sweet underbelly of my Jillybear is missing and in its place is this rigid, empty space. She’s depleted and cut off.
I keep my voice low. “I’m glad you came to see me.”
“Will you take me to bed, Fletch?” Her voice is shattered and pleading. As much as I want to drill all my anger into her and have us work out our frustrations, she’s looking to avoid thinking or talking about her dad. I can’t be that for her right now.
“I will. Not now, though, Bella. Now, we talk. Then you sleep. You’re so tired, my love.” I push some errant hairs behind her ears.
There’s a long moment of me just holding her, and I feel her shoulders finally retreat from her ears. Her body gives way.
She speaks into my chest. “Ugh. I’m going to fucking hate that.” I laugh and pull her closer. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but this isn’t your problem. No need to involve you.”
I kiss the top of her head despite my rage. I still love her and want to be here for her.
“I get that, but you lied to me. You lied instead of telling me you didn’t want me involved. I would have protested, but I would’ve respected your wishes. If we’re real, you have to trust me with all of you. It’s your dad, but our burden.”
She pulls back and hops up onto the kitchen counter. “It’s not. It’s deep and dark and twisty, and sadly, it’s all mine.” And she pushes me further out of her life. Again, I’m more than welcome to share in her world, but only to a point. “And I’m so exhausted I can’t speak correctly.”
“Then run the highlights.” I cross my arms. Malakai weaves in and out of my feet. I pick her up while looking at Jillien.
“Do you miss Tuxedo Cat?” She nods toward the cat.
“Yes. Tell me what happened.”
“We could find them an apartment in Chicago.” She tries to joke, but now she’s separating my cats from me, from her. All of us in our little places. I smile. “They refuse to patch him up so he can destroy himself again; he has to be in rehab.” She puts up the saddest jazz hands ever. “And for kicks, they put him on suicide watch while he detoxes.” I move to her and place my hands on her knees. “He’s been there for twenty-nine hours.”
“What have you been doing?”
“Pacing.”
I wrap my arms around her as the car pulls into the airport. We spent two days at my house and scrapped the Vineyard trip. Jillien used her vacation days on her father instead of me. What’s done is done. We actually had a pleasant and hilarious meal with my mother. Who kept her mouth shut for once.
We settle into our seats, and she pulls her phone out to set it to airplane mode. Her face is white as I see her scroll. She listens to a voice message and tears fill her eyes.
