T
he late October sun peeks through the clouds illuminating the window in the meeting room of Cooperson’s corporation. Another board meeting, more decisions to make, signatures to collect, and a round of
when are you taking your father’s chair?
is in order. I held my words, the same way I held my breath. Staying present but regretting my visit. Things don’t look good, but I prefer not to give any input on how they could improve. One thing would lead to another and like the stupid, obedient son that I am sometimes, I’ll be taking over out of guilt.
Butterfly: Hey Mr. Cooperson, are you busy, or can I be your ten o’clock? *winks*
Coop: Are you flirting?
Butterfly: Nah, just checking on you. You were stressed out during our morning call. Mattie’s worried too.
My woman just erased the tension and relaxed my lungs, so I’m able to breathe again. Since I met her, my life has changed. I’m happy. They make me happy. It’s been almost six weeks since she had a nervous breakdown, but some nights I believe that was for the best. Each one of us is working toward being together. She’s fighting her demons, I’m trying to work on mine when my schedule allows it and . . . time will make it happen. Won’t it?
Coop: I love you, my beautiful butterfly. Fly down to Cali this weekend, I want to see you.
Coop: I have to be in Cali this weekend, please come down with Thea.
Matt: I’ll try and see what I can do. You know she’s afraid of the boogey man, and that’s where the asshole lives.
Coop: No pressure, Butterfly. It’s a suggestion, if not I’ll be there next week.
Matt: She’s on board. We’ll fly down on Thursday.
Coop: Let’s stay in my house.
Matt: I’ll coordinate that with Mason’s people. Call me tonight after Thea’s asleep. Maybe we can have cybersex because my balls are hurting.
Coop: Jerk in the shower. That’s what I’ve been doing. I love you. Talk to you soon, babe.
Matt: I do that three times a day, so I guess that’s what’ll do until she’s ready. I really love our woman—I love you too.
I laugh, because he does. Adores her and kisses the ground she walks on, and I’m right next to him doing the same.
My father clears his throat. I lift my gaze and everyone is watching me. “Sorry, the club is having a new promotional and . . . you wouldn’t understand.”
“Well, gentlemen, I think that’s all for today. Thank you for coming,” my father says, glaring at me. “Tristan, I’ll see you in my office, now.”
I swallow hard, gather my things, and like the good boy I am, walk to his office.
“This meeting was critical to the future of this company, Tristan.” He slams the door and storms toward me stopping just far enough to reach me but not too close. I toy with the idea of moving away. It’s the kid in me afraid that he’s going to use his fists. “Where were you?” He pokes his temple. “Not here, with us. We can’t leave anything to chance. I need you here. Sell your stuff and move back.”
“You want my opinion?” I swallow back again. “You sell your stuff and leave me the hell alone.”
I flinch the moment he raises his hand, but the sound of the handle opening stops him right before it lands on my cheek.
“Isn’t he a little old to be reprimanded, Daddy?”
My sister. The pain in my ass. Dark, pixie haircut, same green eyes as me, and wearing a tailored skirt suit that makes her look professional. Fey Cooperson is here to ask for money. It’ll be for yet another fake charity that is in the middle of nowhere in the world. Two years abroad saving our poor, poor brothers and sisters in need.
“I already told you, Fey, no,” my dad says with the least endearing line I’ve ever heard toward the apple of his eye.
“But, Daddy.” She stomps one pricey heel against the carpet. “You don’t understand; helping others is my life.”
“Help me, Fey, convince your brother to move back to Hartford,” Dad says in exchange. “Then maybe he can find the money to sponsor your ridiculous trips.”
“Try your trust fund,” I suggest, knowing that she blew it the moment she had access to it. “You can even use that money to help the food-packing division of our father’s company.” I give my father a sharp nod. “There, I found you money for both charities, now I’m leaving. Next time you have an impromptu meeting, count me out, Father.”
My changes in personality are like night and day when I’m around them. This is hard to keep up. I need to find strength to say no. Strength to . . . to fight for myself, convince them to accept who I am and accept my partners. With that last thought, I poke the elevator key and wait.
“Hey, Trist.” Fey stands next to me. “Any way you can let me borrow some of that money?” I shake my head. “You know, I had dinner the other day with Victoria, your fiancée. She’s distressed.”
“She’s nothing to me, Fey,” I clarify and thank the Lord that the elevator’s doors opened. “Have a good life.”
Fey doesn’t take the hint and she steps right next to me. “Well, she mentioned you’re dating. A tramp with no class . . . but that there was a very attractive man there too. Any way I can convince you to lend me the money?”
“You know, Fey, I don’t care what your poor imagination is cooking up there. Fuck off.” I step out of the elevator and don’t look back.
As long as they stay in their coast and I stay in mine, nothing bad can happen. If Fey gets any closer to my girl she would shred her apart. No. Fey is playing games. She’s pushing me just so I lend her the money. I won’t.
Matt: Cali is a no go. I’ll send you Thea’s new number as soon as I get it.
Coop: What happened?
Matt: Thea is okay, I’ll explain later. Love you, babe.
I stare at my phone, split between flying home and going to work. Fuck.
It was only a matter of time. I’ve always known this would happen. Time and again I trust her blindly and she betrays me. Why did I call her last week? The child in me still wants to believe. Still makes all the excuses:
Maybe one day it’ll be different.
Someday, she’ll clean up her act.
At one point, she’ll actually start being a mother.
“I’m sorry, Aggie,” she sobs on the other line. “I had to give him your new number. He needs us. The whole family. He’s my husband. I have to help him. He assured me that he’s going to fix everything, and that we’ll be a family.”
Jessica Levitz has once again erased everything her husband has done wrong over the years. She believes he is the same loving man she met when she was a teenager. I’ll never know if the man was indeed a caregiver who gave a shit about her at some point. Being the youngest of the Levitz family entitles me to get only scraps of what we once had.
They
had. A happy family. I never lived in happiness with them. A rich family. We were broke most of the time. They used my hard-earned money to spend it on their own luxuries and vices.
“You believed him, Jessica?” I dare to ask.
“I have to, Aggie. He’s my husband.” Her desperate voice breaks my heart, but not my determination.
“But you’re my mother,” I want to yell at her, but I can’t. In some twisted way I love my mother with all my heart. To this day, I think she once loved me more than the shit she ingests.
“What did he offer this time, Oxycontin?” I shouldn’t judge, but I bet he lured her back to the old habit. Six weeks ago I was on the verge of searching to buy some myself, downing them with Vodka the way she used to do.
The silence on the other line confirms my fears. It lasted about a year. All my efforts to help her kick that habit are obviously gone. I wipe the tears that roll down my cheeks. A combination of anger and sadness overtakes my heart. How can she do this to herself? To me?
“Just count me out of your plans.” I fight to keep my voice steady.
I look at my bracelets, move them enough to read the number Mattie wrote today. Two thousand eighty-two. We take turns to write them down, because Matt and Tristan want to be a part of everything, just like I want to be a part of them. That reminds me that I can fight Martin Levitz. He has no power over me. I’m not afraid of him. Not anymore.
“He has a plan. His old friends included.”
Old friends. I’ve no idea who she’s referring to, and I stop myself from overthinking. The last thing I need are the nightmares. Clearing my mind and lungs, I try to calm my pounding heartbeat.
“I wish that for once you’d be a mother and not his puppet.” I don’t eat my feelings. Even as I try to protect her from my words, I want her to know that her role shouldn’t be Martin Levitz’s wife. “Something’s gotta give. From this point forward I’m done with you until you get clean—because you want to, not because I make you.”
“Aggie, please don’t do this. When he calls you, be nice to him.”
“I swear that’s the last time I’m telling you how to find me. Time after time you do the same. Turn away from your own children. The kids you were supposed to protect from the moment you conceived them until they could defend themselves. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you for throwing me to the wolves.”
As I finish the call, the stream of tears roll down my cheeks, crying for everything that I’ve gone through because of her, because of her fucking husband. I pray to whoever will listen that he doesn’t call. That he never finds me. Because I don’t know what I’d do to him . . .
or to myself.