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“I want to stop being afraid. I want to stop feeling weak.” It felt good to say it to Harper, and she nodded.
“I want that for you too. So, anything that can give you power and happiness sounds like a good idea to me.” She looked at her cell again and appeared to be scrolling for something.
Jack sounded like a good idea to me too. In the short time we were together, he affected me in a way that spurred desire. Desire for more of him, more confidence. Just more.
My dad raised me. Well, I kind of raised myself, since he was working a lot. When he married Brock’s mom, things went downhill. I was never able to catch my dad’s eye, yet I still tried. Even to this day. But I truly believed that he must love me. Because the alternative was too much to bear.
I took a long swallow of warm coffee, and it did little to ease that throbbing ache of uncertainty buried in my chest.
I hated talking or thinking about things like my past or my dad. It was too much stress, too much heartache to hold on to. Then, it hit me.
“I have to let one of them go.”
“Huh? What do you mean?” Harper asked.
“Brock or my dad. I need to let one of them go. I can’t keep holding on to all the badness. I can’t keep fighting both of them.” I was either fighting for my dad’s love or against the idea of ever being around Brock. I had to move on from one of them if I was going to attempt to be a stronger person.
“Jesus,” I whispered, and looked at Harper. “Brock is technically the only person I’ve ever been with.”
Tears collected, but I didn’t want them to fall. The horror of that fact made me realize that he still had control over me. Had succeeded in wrecking me.
“No, you weren’t with Brock. He raped you.”
The word was so sharp, it felt like it punctured my lung. I stayed away from using that word because it made it more real.
“I’m tired of holding on to that. I want to move on. I want good experiences, not a single bad one to keep weighing me down.”
Harper nodded. “I think that’s a great idea. So, you’re going to let go of Brock?”
It sounded easier said than done, but yes, that was my goal. It didn’t mean he didn’t disgust me, maybe scare me a little. It certainly didn’t mean it changed a damn thing, and I would be around him. But I would try to finally move on from the inner turmoil he left behind.
“I’m going to try,” I said. “But I’m holding on to my dad.”
I wasn’t ready to let him go. I wasn’t ready to accept that our relationship couldn’t be salvaged. Stupid or not, I loved my father, and wanted to fight for this happy ending that may never come.
Harper’s expression was soft but serious. “Okay, but at some point, you need to be prepared to let go of this idea that your dad is going to, all of a sudden, be great and be there for you. He’s not. He never has been.”
But that went against every hope I had.
“If I could just…” I took a deep breath because my chest constricted. “If he could just see me, believe in me, then maybe—”
“Things will be different? The past will somehow be different?” Harper finished, shaking her head. “It won’t, Lan. Even now, you’re killing yourself to prove your worth to him, all while going to grad school next year so you can graduate, and then what? He’ll hire you on at his firm?”
“Yes,” I said. Because that was the plan. If I worked hard, aced everything from statistical analysis to finance, maybe then he’d see I could be an asset.
“But he already fired you,” she said gently.
“No, I technically quit. By the time I’m done with grad school, hopefully Brock will be back in New York.” And my grand plan could be reinstated. “I just need a job in the meantime.”
Harper stalled a moment, chewing her lip, as if thinking over something serious. Finally, she motioned to her cell phone. “My friend Shannon runs a temp agency, and she was saying a while back how she’s hiring people to do payroll for some resort. I think they hire pretty fast over there. I was just looking up her contact information.”
“That would be great. Can I get her number from you?”
“Of course.” Then Harper’s expression was one I’d seen a few times before, whenever this topic got brought up. Pity. And I hated it because it added to the growing mountain of weakness I was battling.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I said in my best casual voice.
“I just worry about you. You say things that make me hurt for you.”
