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I stood there appalled, wondering had he always been this vile? Had he always served passive aggressive jabs with a side of airy smiles, and then pretended to be the recipient of my victimization whenever I fought back against his stabs at my career? Had I explained away his behavior time and time again as well-meaning, seeing him as a byproduct of Deacon and Caroline’s loveless parenting? And did I forgive him for it all too quickly? Yes, I did. But this was the first time I’d allowed myself to see the cold truth. That there were no excuses good enough, and that all the actions I’d excused away as unintentional, were something else entirely, and I hadn’t cared enough about myself to see it. I rubbed at the engraving on my pen.
“Screw you, Daniel,” I said, astounding even myself. I didn’t know if it was the pen bolstering me, the fact that I not only woke up on the wrong side of the bed, but alsointhe wrong bed, or the fact that I’d carved out the heart of the only man who truly loved me enough to accommodate my guilt and fear, but suddenly, I didn’t feel so deserving of Daniel’s bullshit.
“Where are you going?” he asked, baffled.
Already on the other side of the apartment door, I said, “I think I’ll skip out on the phony family party this year. Give your parents my best.” I shut the door, got onto the elevator when it arrived, and didn’t take my first breath until I was gasping out in the cold.
I looked to both ends of the street and headed in the direction opposite the block party. I moved on autopilot, unsure of where I was heading until I’d gotten to the train station and remembered Sofia’s annual toy drive. I typically missed it or showed up in time to help with clean up, because of Daniel’s traditional family party of torture, but not this year. I got on the train heading south to Brooklyn.
“Jasper!” Sofia’s voice rang as I entered the rented storefront, but I couldn’t see her past the ocean of excited kids and grateful parents trying to rein them in. A tiny arm shot in the air as a beacon, jazz-hand waving, and I cut through the crowd and around the long table she was stationed behind.
“Couldn’t someone get you a stepstool?” I asked.
“Very funny,” she said, slapping my arm. She was first on the assembly line they had going, and with a nudge from the person next to her, Sofia snatched a backpack from one of the many stocked shelves behind her, placing notebooks in it, then sending it down for other supplies and toys to be added.
“How can I help?” I asked as a little girl squealed, pointing at a doll on the top shelf before a person Sofia had called Jasmine stuffed it in the bag, and passed it to the person at her left, keeping the line moving.
Sofia called her son over, and I ruffled his hair as she asked him to take her place. “Follow me,” she said, powerwalking to the back.
“This is a pretty huge storefront,” I said from the open door of the stock room.
“Yeah, we got lucky this year, but the turnout is growing,” she said, sighing toward the new wave of families piling in. It was a good sigh. It was her I’m-complaining-but-I’m-so-happy sigh. “Anyway, what are you doing here? You said you’d be at Daniel’s parents’ house.”
“Yeah, not this year. What’s wrong?” I asked as she chewed her lip, head snapping toward the entrance every time the bell hanging over the front door jingled, announcing someone had left or arrived.
“Um,” she started. The rest was lost between “Sleigh Ride” playing through the store speakers, and a loud shriek of excitement coming from amidst the fray of people. Sofia tried to close the stockroom door, but I caught it in time to see Cole enter, and Camille race over to give him a hug, nearly knocking him off his feet. “She wanted to invite him. Apparently, they’re on speed dial status now,” she said, taking a stab at lightheartedness. “Jesus, Jasper, you’re white as a ghost.”
I’d texted her this morning letting her know Cole and I would be avoiding each other as much as possible. She didn’t need to know any more than that. And I’d only told her that much to circumvent situations like this, because he’d gotten involved with some of her charities and would likely be around at times.
Cole and Camille had moved from the door to a high table off to the side where she seemingly tried to challenge him to an arm-wrestling match using her prosthetic limb. Cole laughed, and I wanted to crumble to the floor. How could he be okay? How could he laugh, how could he look so damn handsome and well put together, when I was nothing but an apparition of myself moving through the world.
“I didn’t know you were coming,” Sofia whispered, resting a palm on my forearm.
“It’s okay,” I assured her. “But if you don’t mind, I think I’ll go. Is there a back door?”
“Where are you going to go?”
“Home. Honestly, I could use the alone time.” With Daniel breathing down my neck all day, I hadn’t had the opportunity to properly mourn.
“Okay,” she said, unsure. “But you call me if you need me. Promise?”
I kissed her cheek, done with making promises, then fled for the door she’d pointed at.
As if my day couldn’t have gotten any worse, I’d been met with icy rain as soon as I cleared the subway station near our apartment. Standing in our doorway, I deliberated what to do with my wet coat and shoes, because Daniel hadn’t laid out a mat, or towel, to dry my coat before hanging it in the closet. The weather app hadn’t mentioned rain or sleet.
I exhaled, searching inside myself, trying to determine if I actually cared about the hissy fit he’d have when he got home if I didn’t handle this the right way. Turned out I didn’t have it in me to give a damn. I dropped my coat to the floor, and then marched for the kitchen leaving wet footprints behind.
K-cup in place, I ordered some food, and called downstairs to let the lobby clerk know I’d be expecting someone, then took a hot shower.
The ringing of my phone shook me from my one-tracked thoughts, and thinking it could be my food delivery, I cut off the water, snagged a towel from the rack, and shot into the bedroom.
“Hello,” I said, hitting the speaker phone icon and dropping the phone to the bed so I could dry off.
“Good evening, Mr. Des Moines. You have a um, ah, er, food delivery guy here wanting to come up.”
“Yes. I’d called down, letting Nancy know already.” Nancy’s shift must have ended, and she’d forgotten to fill him in. I slipped on my boxers and sweats.
“Yes, she told me,” he said. “Just wanted to double-check. Sending him right up.” The call ended, and I stared at the screen perplexed before remembering my coffee, which had likely gone cold by now because looking at the time, I realized I’d been in the shower way too long again.
