Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
“Do you see any other way?” Leah asks, as if this is a reasonable suggestion. “I mean, I don’t.”
I merely shake my head and sigh.
“Okay thanks. Um, I’ll think about it.”
Then I end the call because Leah’s suggestion is too ridiculous! What the hell is she thinking, suggesting a menage?
But I feel miserable about the whole debacle, and the fact is that I can’t come up with another solution. I can’t deny that the past couple of months have been an exciting whirlwind, but now that it’s all come to a head, I’m just left feeling guilty about sleeping with both my stepbrother and stepfather, unwittingly pitting them up against each other. What would Mom think? Charity would call me a slut, without a doubt.
I climb into bed, heavy with guilt and exhaustion. Then, I close my eyes and pray for the answer to come to me in my dreams.
11
Elle
I wake the next morning to a gray, misty dawn. Judging from the weak light filtering through my curtains, it must still be very early. I was hoping that I’d feel better this morning, but somehow, I feel worse. The house is as silent as a grave, and I wonder whether Hunter or Alex even ended up coming home last night.
Creeping out of bed, I shuffle over to the window and pull the curtain aside, squinting in the thin morning light. I peer down into the driveway to see both men’s trucks parked there, just like they always are. They must have gotten home late last night without waking me. Where were they all evening? And what will happen when we finally confront each other?
My shoulders sag as I let out a small whimper of distress. I’m ruminating, my mind going in circles, while I try to decipher the tangled web of our relationship. I’m with my stepbrother, and he wants me; I’m with my stepfather, and he wants me too. Crazily, we’re all related and my mother would turn over in her grave if she knew. Another small cry erupts from my lips, and tears start to fall. It’s so twisted and perverse that my head hurts. What do I do?
Suddenly overcome with an urge to leave the house and get as far away from it as possible, I grab a duffel bag from under my bed and start throwing my belongings into it. It’s clear that I have to get out from under this roof. At least for a little while because I’m done wondering what Alex and Hunter think about the situation, or how things will play out in the future. None of that matters unless I figure out how I feel about it all, first.
Where I’m headed, I don’t know. All I know is that I need to think. And I need to do that in an environment that fosters connection with one’s inner being. As I gather my necessities, I come across my miniature buddha, perched on my desk along with some incense. My fingers trace the shape of the stocky figurine, gently running over its rotund belly.
The little buddha was a graduation present from Clara, who was so heavily pregnant at the time that she couldn’t attend the graduation itself. So she sent the buddha as a surprise gift, knowing I’d been exploring Buddhism in recent months. I’d appreciated the gesture, and enjoyed reading up on meditation in the months that followed. But with all this stuff with Hunter, and now Alex, I lost sight of it. Lost sight of myself, perhaps.
Looking at the figurine now, I touch the top of his head, feeling the cool, smooth stone he’s carved out of. An idea suddenly forms: I should retreat to a Buddhist monastery to get back in touch with myself. There’s a well-known monastery in nearby Somerville, Pennsylvania. It’s called The City of Enlightenment, and there’s a bevy of monks and nuns living there. I think they also engage in some small-scale agriculture to support themselves, and run a popular summer camp for kids. It’s the perfect place to take refuge, and exactly what I need to calm my aching heart.
Now that my mind is made up, I don’t waste a single moment. I want to make sure I’m long gone before either man wakes up and perhaps tries to change my mind about leaving because I’m not in the mood to have to explain myself. So I dress and finish packing in a matter of moments, and I’m pulling out of the driveway before I’ve even accessed the monastery’s address on my maps app. I can do that at the next stoplight. Meanwhile, I also text Angela to let her know I won’t be coming to work today, or really, anytime soon. I cite mental health reasons, and I don’t have the energy to care about whether she believes me because I need to sort my life out.