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Jake’s eyes shifted toward her… “Cameron?”
He saw the way she squeezed her eyes shut as if she could make a wish and her life would be different.
“Yes, but it’s not just Cameron. It would eventually be anything that stood in the way of the image Tom had of himself and what his family was supposed to be like. He wanted to have a mini-him. He’s struggling to love the son he’s been given, or maybe he’s not even trying, I can’t tell. That means I now have to face who he really is, or more accurately, who we are not.”
Jake’s jaw tensed, his hand gripping the side of his chair. Damn, he wanted to rip off a piece of wood and beat Tom with it. “Melissa, a father loves his son, or he’s not a father.” The words that spilled from his mouth didn’t even sound like himself. It’s what his father would have said. He was sure of it.
He saw the quiver in her bottom lip. “Jake…I don’t know what’s going to happen. I am trying to figure out my next step. Tom works in Dallas a few days a week, but in the last month…instead of heading there on Monday…he’s been…” She closed her eyes as if sorting out what she already knew. “There’s more in Dallas than work…”
Jake’s head spun toward his sister. “What the fuck, he’s…”
Melissa’s hand flew up, gesturing for him to stop. “Please don’t ask me, Jake…don’t ask me to say it out loud. I can’t yet…”
“Okay, Issa,” Jake mumbled, rummaging in the bag for another taco, seeking a distraction. He didn’t have the right words to respond to his sister.
She lifted her glass, and he poured in a little more tequila, then she shook her head as if shaking off the last revelation about her life. “You know what, Jake the Snake?” Her tone had shifted as if she refused to let this night end in a wallowing session.
“Hmm…” He chewed, then swallowed, trying like hell to follow this twisty conversation. The vulnerability she was disclosing to him tonight was something he’d never witnessed inMelissa… or maybe it had been there all along, and he just hadn’t seen it.
“Don’t get caught up in perfect. I wish I had learned how to fail, to be okay with messy situations and enjoy the hard stuff in between the perfect shit. Because when all the perfection falls to pieces, you don’t know how to deal with the mess. You just sit there trying to figure out how you got so far from the person you thought you were.” A laugh that sounded distant spilled from her mouth.
“Okay…but how about if you have a tendency to gravitate toward messy? Now you’re trying to be a little bit more like your sisters, but somehow you just keep stepping in your own shit? What’s your solution for that?”
Staring at the fire, she spoke slowly. “I thinkthat’smore of a natural progression. Begin with disarray, then clean it up, putting thought into how you want your life to look or, more importantly, feel. It's better than fighting to keep everything tidy and neat. There’s something powerful about figuring out who you are in the midst of chaos. Chasing perfection is a maddening quest…I wished I’d stayed in the messy, achy parts longer when I was young…allowed myself to feel. I always focused on growing up and getting past all that silly stuff—like falling in love…just because that person makes you laugh and your skin jumps when they get near. But still, years later, you think about the first time their lips touched yours, the first…” She halted, catching herself in a memory. “I wanted to control my destiny. I thought if I just made the right choice, ignored all those silly, young person feelings…that everything else would fall into place, and my world would be…perf…” She trailed off.
They both focused on the fire, letting the sounds of the night circle their silence: the crickets chirping, the melodic whistling of the wind as it teased the branches on the winding oak trees, and the fire crackling before them.
Finally, Melissa spoke. “Sooo…let’s change the subject because I don’t think I’m making sense…” she said with a barely audible sigh. “I was surprised when I watched Rakell’s interview this morning, that she indicated you two aren’t a couple…I thought that…”
He sat up straight, glass in hand, and looked at his sister. “Don’t ask…it’s messy,” Jake said, the corner of his mouth curling up.
With that, she sat up, leaning toward him. Her blue eyes lit up for the first time tonight, and she clinked her glass to his. “Perfect!”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Partly because it was the first full night of restful sleep she’d had in weeks and partly because of her drive to feel some normalcy, Rakell was determined today would be an ordinary day—the kind any twenty-something woman in a buzzing city would embark on. She ran through a list of the non-negotiable things she would do today: go to the gym, go to the grocery store, join a Zoom meeting with Ana about an opportunity with a French lingerie designer, then go out for a drink, all of it without a disguise. She downed the last of a coffee-based protein shake, feeling herself wake up as if today would be different…as if, after her interview yesterday, she could start fresh. Grabbing her phone, Rakell checked her messages. There was nothing from Jake in response to the text she’d sent him last night.What was he supposed to say?she chided herself.What are you hoping for?
She was so sick of slinking around, hiding behind dark glasses and hats, waiting for the anxiety to retreat magically, not actually living... Rakell had felt this before…the gripping panic that had crept in after the fire, turning her life upside down. She had sworn she would never allow herself to enter that mental space again, consumed by anxiety so acute it paralyzed rational thought, but it wasn’t that simple. She’d shed one life and replaced it with another—one she dreamed of running from once again—but this new life felt foreign, and it didn’t fit together easily.
Rakell (to Lana):Let’s get a drink tonight…Send
Lana:YES!! It’s time girl!...Send
Rakell:More than a month of ducking my head, slinking around like a criminal…Send
Lana:You openly rooted against a Texas football team…in TEXAS, you probably are on the most wanted list by the Texas Marshals. But it’s time to move on…from everything…Send
Rakell:You’re right but why am I still grappling…Send
Lana:There’s a lot coming your way…Send
Rakell:Okay…you’re so good with words...Send
Lana:I edit seventh-grade English papers??Oh, and then there’s the Levi effect…Send
Rakell:He’s invited…Send
Lana:Any word from your hot QB since the interview?...Send
