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“Gone.”
She nodded as she took my bag off my shoulder, gripped my hand, and led me to the couch.
I swallowed as I stared at the high heels I’d worn to show him what a grown up I was. It seemed so childish to me then. “His heart?” I braved a glance her way.
She nodded and took a seat on the ottoman across from me.
I let the tears slip down my cheek. “I mean, I knew. I knew something was wrong. I just didn’t know how. . . bad. . . Oh my God, Ray!” I let myself free fall into devastation as she did her best to calm me.
“Why . . . why?” Confusion and anger overpowered me as I lashed out at her. “Why didn’t you call me?! Goddamn you, Olivia, you knew I loved him!”
“So did he, Taylor. He knew. He wanted it this way. He didn’t want you to suffer.”
“Well, I’m suffering anyway! He was only twenty-nine! He was rich! Why the hell didn’t he save himself?”
“Money doesn’t solve everything, Taylor.” I cringed at her words because they belonged to Laz. “It was his second rejected heart. He said a third would be too selfish.”
“Selfish?” I scoffed. “That bastard was worried about being selfish? He’s the most selfish man that ever lived!”
“Taylor, he knew you wouldn’t go to school. He knew.”
I let my body dissolve as she spoke softly.
“He never really said much, but I know you were his world, Taylor.”
I cut my eyes at her. “I was his whore.”
“That’s not true and you know it.”
“I know nothing.” I stood, wiped my tears away, grabbed my bag, and barricaded myself in his room. On top of his bed was an envelope for me. I stared at it for three days before I slipped it in his bedside drawer and returned to Boston.
I pulled one of the shirts from his closet and slipped it on. Nothing smelled of him anymore, and in my anger, I hadn’t taken the time to do anything that a women in love would do with her grief. I’d kept it all inside at school and used my pain as my anchor. Even with my hurt, I’d set out to do everything we talked about. I’d made my fortune. I’d conquered. I ruled my share of the corporate world, and I’d done it all for a dead man’s acceptance. For myself, but mostly for Ray. He was the voice in my head, my mentor, the whisper in my ear for the better half of ten years . . . until I met Daniello. I knew grief had its limitations, but I found myself in a heap on his bed minutes after I’d arrived, swallowing chalk with desperate sobs. I released years of pent up sadness, grieving my losses, my failures, and the three loves of my life.
Ray had left everything to me. His home, his fortune from the quick sale of his Fortune 500 company, even the Studebaker he refused to let me drive. I was a millionaire my first semester in college, but I refused to cash in. I was self-made, and somehow, even from the grave, I knew I had his respect. But I later realized it was just an excuse. He’d bred me to be a winner, and I’d become one, in a sense. But his cruelty had stunted me in a way that refused to let me embrace my feminine heart. I was a working robot, and only Daniello had been able to break through the façade. Ray was wrong to hijack my emotions. He’d ripped away life from the living.
Still, somehow, I needed him to come back, to remind me of who I was, of my capabilities. I was frozen and drifting, and I needed the kind of slap only he was capable of giving. I needed to shed the emotions and get back to the heart of what I was. But who the fuck was I?
I wiped my face as the sun peeked inside his massive bedroom and gripped the envelope I had placed in his drawer ten years ago. I held it to my chest and swallowed hard, mustering the courage to open it. Slipping the letter out of the envelope, I paused when I saw the length of it.
Kitten,
In another life, I would have loved you.
Ray
I gripped the paper tightly as I read it over and over before I tucked it back in the envelope and felt another folded letter inside of it. I gripped it like a lifeline, hoping for more from a man who had never given it, and gaped when I saw what it was. I took a seat in the chair next to his bedroom window and stared at the crumbled paper.
Dear Committee,
I was born into a nuclear family. I’ve had a swell life. I attend church with my loving and supportive parents every Sunday. My hobbies include feeding the homeless, daily bike rides with my high school sweetheart, and visiting old folk’s homes to ensure they are entertained and rarely lonely.
I’ve read three thousand books in my high school career. I was valedictorian of my class, and my SAT scores are well above average. With a degree from Harvard, I intend to make a difference in the world. With an MBA in business, I intend to become a leader my parents will be proud of. I intend to cultivate fresh ideas, benefit from them, and return the profits to the business community. I see a bright future riddled with prosperity. These are my plans.
But that is complete bullshit.
My name is Taylor Ellison. I come from a tiny town in Tennessee that the world has forgotten about. My parents were addicts, and I didn’t own a pair of shoes until I was two years old. My hobbies included escaping my house and the wrath of my mother to read one of a thousand books I couldn’t understand. On weekends, I would help my toddler sister scrub the walls of our house to keep my unhappy mother at bay. I spent a majority of my days at the local library, which housed exactly three thousand books. I read every one of them until I memorized them. It took me eighteen years. I managed to escape the clutches of my parents my senior year through sheer ingenuity and graduated valedictorian of one of the hardest prep schools in the country. My scores speak for themselves, but this is where you want to hear about who you will be letting into your school and the carefully laid plans for my future.
I’m a child of abuse and neglect and an adult who doesn’t use it as an excuse. I want to rule a boardroom, found a company that will support a life without financial worry, and maybe use the money to mentor someone like myself. I’m thirsty for whatever knowledge puts me in this position. And I know that I can gain that knowledge at your school. I’ve brought myself to your door. Please open it.
