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“Jordan, I’m leaving for London in a few days. My trip has been moved up.” I watch her closely to gauge whether she cares.
She does. Her face contorts with a fresh wave of surprise and hurt. “Why should I believe you? Maybe you were leaving this soon all along.”
“It was all finalized suddenly.” I ignore her pointed barb. Tit for tat isn’t going to get us anywhere. I’m focused on the bigger picture. “I came by because I didn’t want to leave without seeing you. I’ve done a ton of thinking and I realize how much I’ve messed up…”
“Oh, I got your texts.” She chews on her thumbnail and looks away. Her profile is bathed in the glowy light of the streetlamp. “I’ve been trying to process everything. It’s a lot for me to digest.”
“I understand and I’m sorry for ambushing you tonight. The thing is, I love you, Jordan. I wish I'd handled things differently.” I want to reach for her hand or place my hand on her knee, but neither is appropriate, so I settle for clenching my fists.
“I love you too, Peter.” She turns to me, her eyes searching mine. “But what does it matter if you don't live up to the values you're supposed to hold so dear? I honestly don't know who you are. Are you the man who loves me with all his heart and is thoughtful, caring and carries himself with integrity? Or are you the guy who gaslights me when he's confronted with behavior that genuinely sucks balls? It seems to me you don’t know which man to be. It was never about choosing between me or your project.”
I pause, the weight of her assessment feels like an elephant sitting on my heart. “I want to live up to my own values. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life, but I can’t deny this project is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I don’t know how to make it all work.”
“You’ve neatly summarized the other problem.” Jordan’s sigh is weary. “You’re assuming you have to make it work. We're supposed to be in this together. Discussing how we can make it work.”
We sit in silence for a few minutes, the tension between us palpable. “I don’t have all the answers,” I finally admit. “ I’m willing to do whatever it takes to figure it out. Even with the distance. If you’re willing to try, that is. I love you so much, baby. It physically hurts to be without you.”
“Oh, I get it. But, as I said a minute ago, love isn’t always enough. Trust, communication, being there for each other—there are a lot of components to a healthy relationship. Judging strictly on your own track record, I’m not convinced you'll hold up your end of the bargain.” She buries her face in her hands and her body heaves when she starts sobbing.
“Baby…” I pry her hand from her eyes and clasp it in mine. “Please don’t cry. I’ll do better. I’ll be better. I know I’ve broken your trust. Will you let me try to rebuild it? I don’t want to lose any more time with you.”
Jordan looks down at our entwined hands and furrows her brow. “Every single part of me wants to jump into this and take the risk, which is why I'm being overcautious and taking time to process. You kept such a big part of your life from me. How can I be sure you won’t do it again? Do you know how much it breaks my heart? Do you care?”
Her words strike a chord, and I feel the guilt and regret wash over me because I'm still keeping secrets about my family. It’s time to open up. I've got nothing to lose and everything to gain.
“I understand your fear and I don't want to promise I’ll be perfect.” I rub the top of her hand with my thumb. “What I can promise is I’ll be honest with you going forward about everything. No more secrets. No more half-truths. I want to build something real with you, no matter what.”
Holding my breath, I wait for her response. Jordan looks at the ground and her expression changes about a million times before she finally looks up and meets my gaze. “I'll hear you out, but I still need time, Peter. Time to think about what I want for my future. Please don't pressure me into a decision tonight.”
“I understand.” I’m crushed, but I have no choice but to accept her need for space. I let go of her hand, defeated. “Take all the time you need. Whatever you decide, I’ll respect it.”
“Peter, you know I’ve always been fascinated by mermaids, right?” Jordan abruptly changes the subject. She leans against the bench and tucks one leg under her.
I’m confused, but she’s still talking to me, so I’ll gladly listen to whatever she wants to say. “Of course. We talked about it in Vegas. It’s why your mermaid tattoos are more than art—they’re a part of your very essence.”
“Yeah.” Jordan’s eyes jump up to mine relaying what seems like fascination. “They are. Mermaids have always symbolized enchantment, seduction, and the power of femininity—representing both the beauty and the complexity of being a woman.”
“The embodiment of raw, natural power and freedom.” Immediately, I’m connected to this conversation. I think about the inspiration behind my favorite architectural designs. “Art has a way of mirroring your soul.”
She reaches over and squeezes my knee. “I love tattooing mermaids because they’re the epitome of feminine strength and independence. A reminder that sometimes what attracts us doesn’t have to make logical sense. It’s okay to be captivated by the mysterious. The otherworldly.”
“Like you.” Her golden-blonde hair flows behind her against the moon lighting up Puget Sound behind her. “I remember researching mermaids after we met and lost touch. Did you know they usually appear in the light of the moon or between dawn and dusk – times of magic and transformation. You’re my mermaid, baby.”
“That's a sweet thought, Peter, but, like a mermaid, I only show my true self to those who are sincere. Those who really see me.” She releases my knee and stands as if she’s ready to leave. “I thought you were my person. I felt it on such a deep level. And I hoped I could be your person so you knew I was trustworthy. Knew you could tell me anything and I'd keep you safe. But you don't feel that way. I'm finally facing the truth.”
Stunned, I watch as Jordan starts to walk away. A deep sense of urgency grips my heart, compelling me to share the great shame of my family situation. I don't have a choice. “Jordan, wait. I told you I don’t want any more secrets. I do trust you. I do see you.”
She pauses and turns to me, seemingly annoyed but curious. “Well?”
“Uh…” I swallow hard, realizing my confession might further distance us. I hope the risk is worth it. I've got to have faith. “My family… I didn't grow up like you did. My upbringing—it's always been a source of turmoil. Choices I've made in the past created a lot of animosity. Choices my brothers continue to make…place a burden on my parents, who don't have the resources to get them help. As you know, it's fallen on me. I’ve financially supported the four of them for years. It feels like an endless cycle.”
Jordan relaxes a bit. “Yeah. I know it's been difficult for you.”
“It’s more than the financial aspect.” A knot of emotions stick in my throat. “In my family, information is power. It’s something to be used, to hold over each other. In your family—sharing is about trust and support. In mine, it’s a weapon.”
She steps closer, her gaze searching mine. “Peter, you've said this all before. You're not really telling me anything new. By now you should know I’m safe. I’m not your family.”
“Sure, I hear you.” Her words mean a lot, but unless you’ve lived with a toxic family like mine, she has no way to comprehend how to deal with the repercussions. “ What I haven't told you is, around the time we started the tattoo, I paid my mom a significant sum for all of them to stay out of my life. I even made her sign an agreement. It hasn't mattered. She still tries to pull me into the poisonous cycle every other day. God, the dread I feel every time my phone buzzes.”
