Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
* * *
BUT WITH DAVID MOVING close to us, my expectations about what a family can be shifts, too. He is everything Anna said and more; David is warm and affectionate, proud and loyal, devoted and protective. The first time we met over a year ago, I went to shake his hand and he pulled me in for a long hug, thanking me for making his daughter so happy. I was overcome; his easy acceptance and affection hit me in a surprisingly tender place, and I spent the entire next day feeling out of sorts and like I’d messed up somehow, realizing only later when I talked it out with Anna that I’d never been hugged like that by a father figure before. I hadn’t known how to respond.
Over time, I figured it out. Hugging David when he walks into our house feels completely normal now. His hand warmly cupping my shoulder when I’m stressed about work is calming, reassuring. I no longer stare at Anna chatting obliviously at the ceiling, with her head in her father’s lap on the couch and think it looks a little weird. I think if I watch David Green and his daughter enough, I might not make a terrible father myself one day.
I want that same closeness with my family, but we’re all broken in similar but opposing ways, and I have to be realistic about what that means for forming bonds of trust and vulnerability. We have group therapy every other month or so. I have lunch with Jake and Alex the first Tuesday of every month; I talk to Charlie frequently. I see my mother every other Sunday. But the night that Anna invites everyone over for dinner at our new house is the first time outside of group therapy that the whole family will be in one room since our time on the island.
Not the whole family, I mentally amend. Because only a month ago, in July, just over a year after everything blew apart, my father was sentenced to eleven years in prison and fined five million dollars for dumping stock before going to the press. There are more charges coming—not to mention whatever the IRS finds when they finish combing through his finances. It wasn’t the maximum sentence, but it wasn’t far off, and the severity of it took the business world—and our family—by surprise. As part of our deal with Dad not to challenge the terms of Grandpa’s trust, I was present in the courtroom, along with Jake and Charlie. Alex was noticeably absent, and I was deeply proud of him for that.
I always knew our father was toxic, but even I didn’t realize how his behavior colored every one of us until he was excised like some kind of festering tumor. Mom is newly divorced, and less passive-aggressive. With access to most of their accounts frozen, she also has considerably less money now but seems happier for it. Jake and I are slowly finding our way back to each other, and it’s taken work on my part not to let that final thing he said to me before PISA hit the fan reshape our entire relationship. Without Dad bankrolling his life, Jake has learned to live on what he makes as CMO, which is fucking plenty. He also seems to have zero interest in getting access to his trust. A part of me wonders if it’s a form of personal penance for the mistakes he’s made, but he’ll have to work through that on his own.
But the idea of having everyone over… of letting them into our new home that feels warm and safe and light and ours is suddenly terrifying. Anna watches me arrange and then rearrange and then re-rearrange fresh veggies on a platter and moves to wrap her arms around my waist, resting her head on my back.
“It’s going to be okay, you know.”
“Is it?” I ask. “Alex and Mom aren’t in a great place. Jake still gets weird around me. Charlie doesn’t really articulate any feelings about anything.”
“Even if it’s awful, it’s going to be okay,” she says. “You know how I know that?”
I turn in her arms, leaning back against the counter and loosely wrapping my arms around her. “How?”
“Because even if it goes off the rails, even if everyone ends up shouting and crying and accusing, they’ll still leave at the end of the night, and we’ll still have our house and our life and this love that nobody can touch.”
I stare down at her. “You’re right.”
“We get to decide how much of our hearts we want to give them.” She stretches, kissing me, her lips passing slowly over mine, her tongue drifting teasingly over my bottom lip. “Now tell me you love me.”
Something inside me melts, and my “I love you” is thick with a desperation I can’t mask. I want to lock the doors and take her upstairs and spend the night showing her my devotion.