The Devil Wears Black(95)
“Chase . . .”
“Sell it. Give it away. You earned it.”
I shook my head, my heart clenching painfully. “It’s too much.”
“I won’t return it.” He staggered to the living room, collapsing on the couch and turning on the TV. ESPN was his default channel. “I can’t even look at it.”
He looked so tired that I thought arguing with him about this was less kind than keeping the ring.
“Listen.” I sat down next to him, feeling that he was drifting away from me and wanting to anchor him. “About Nina. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, I really do, but please tell Sven to give her her job back. She needs it, and I don’t want to get into this with Sven.”
“What she needs is a lesson in manners,” he slurred, frowning at the TV boyishly. “And maybe a sugar daddy to pay for all that Prada she was parading around. I looked her up on Instagram. Is this you being Martyr Maddie again? Because I won’t stand for this kind of bullshit on your behalf.”
“We reached an understanding.” I slid the ring back onto my finger before realizing what I was doing. I ignored the warm current that ran through me as I did.
“Will it make you happy?” He swung his head toward me. The vulnerability in his expression nearly broke me. I nodded. “Fine. She can have her job back. I’ll talk to Sven.”
“Thank you.”
“But I’ll also give him some friendly advice to make you her boss. Seems fair, everything considered.”
I didn’t argue.
“How’s your dad?” I asked, stalling. Leaving him like this, drunk and bitter and hurting, was impossible.
He gave me half a shrug. Right. Stupid question.
“I just want you to know I’ll be there for you and your family, no matter what. As a friend.”
“I don’t want to be your friend.” Chase held my eyes, sobering up for a fraction of a second. “I want to be your everything. Even that’s not enough. So thanks, but no thanks.”
He is drunk, my mind screamed at me as my heart lurched for him. Plastered. Hammered. Tanked up. He doesn’t mean it.
I pulled him into an awkward couch hug, kissing his neck, inhaling his Chase smell, diluted by the alcohol he’d consumed tonight. “That’s a lot to ask.” I smiled sadly, pressing a kiss below his ear. I felt his words inside my body as he answered me.
“It’s more than I deserve.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
MADDIE
November 2, 2009
Dear Maddie,
This is goodbye. I feel it in my bones. I’m so sorry I won’t be there to see you walking down the aisle. To help with your little ones should you decide to have children. I am so terribly sorry I will not be there for the breakups, and for the teenage drama, and for the small victories, and all the realizations that unfold throughout life, like thinly wrapped chocolate pieces. They all taste different, my darling Maddie. Every single lesson life teaches you is a gift, no matter the hurdles it puts in your way.
I love you, Madison. Not only because you are mine, but because you are wonderfully good, considerate, bright, and sweet. Because you are creative and your laughter reminds me of Christmas bells. Because you are all the best things about your father, and all the great things about me. You make me selfishly proud.
Before I say my final goodbye, I have another, last fun fact about flowers for you. The pretty pink pom-pom heads of the mimosa pudica look gorgeously brilliant and fuzzy, but they are actually quite sensitive. The pom-poms will fold up shyly when they are touched. They’re vibrant and blossoming—but only from afar. They are, essentially, untouchable.
Don’t shy away from the world. You will get hurt. You will hurt others, even if you don’t mean to. Pain is inevitable through life. But joy is too. So seize the day.
Love hard.
Get lots of sleep.
Eat well.
And remember our flower rule: if it doesn’t make you grow or blossom—let it go.
All my love,
Mom. x
Three days later, I took the train to Philadelphia to see my dad. I hadn’t talked to him about Chase since we’d gotten back together a few weeks ago. It had seemed redundant, seeing as we weren’t going to last. Dad and I had a routine. We met at Iris’s Golden Blooms, where I helped him sort out his bookkeeping twice a month, and in return, I got a nice Chinese meal at a corner restaurant near our house, followed by industrial Costco ice cream in front of the TV while he filled me in on our small-town gossip. Dad had a girlfriend. A sweet lady named Maggie, whom I was super grateful for, because she kept him busy and happy and gave him all the attention I couldn’t. She also understood us on another level and never once complained about the fact the flower shop he owned still held his late wife’s name.
Today wasn’t any different. I went through the motions: bookkeeping, Chinese food, ice cream from a tub you could hide a body in. Dad asked if I wanted to sleep over at their place. To his delight, I accepted. New York reminded me too much of Chase. Every street corner and skyscraper was soaked with a memory of him.
The next morning I went to the cemetery. I wasn’t big on graveyards. They were too much of a reminder one day I’d be a resident. But for Mom, I went once a year, on her birthday.
Which happened to be today.