24
Alex
While a part of me had accepted that Savannah would not be happy, I must admit to expecting a somewhat more positive reaction. If not toward me, then toward Molly, at least. Yes, she crouched down and gave the dog a hug, but now she’s standing a few feet back, as if she doesn’t want the temptation of being too near to either one of us.
“I know you told me not to, but I couldn’t just sit back and watch you lose her,” I start, hoping she’ll see reason. Her hand flies up and she shakes her head stubbornly.
“I told you not to. That’s the only part that matters, Alex. I’ve told you so many times to let me manage on my own, that I don’t need your help or for you to fix things for me. I didn’t need a coffee maker, or locks, or for you to go and adopt a damn dog!”
“It’s not like I went and got you a random puppy from the store, it’s Molly, for Christ’s sake.” My volume increases as I speak, my frustration at her stubbornness growing with every second.
She flings her hands out to the side, her legs planted wide, tears streaming down her face. “What did you think I’d say Alex, oh thank you so much for ignoring me and going against my wishes to do the thing I told you not to do? Iknowit’s Molly. My Molly. But I can’t take her, not like this.” She lets her hands drop down, and her voice breaks. “I should have known you couldn’t do this.”
“Do what?” I demand.
“Be in a real relationship,” she whispers. “You can’t even tell me how you feel, much less listen to me or respect me.”
“Are you bloody mad?” My accent grows stronger as my mood darkens. “I did this,for you.Everything has beenfor you.I may not have said the words, but can you honestly tell me you don’t know how I feel about you? Fucking hell, Savannah. That’s not fair.”
“What isn’t fair is you standing in front of me, completely missing the point,” she cries out.
She’s overreacting. Somewhere in the back part of my mind I know this, just as I know that I need to calm down before we both say or do something we can’t take back. It hurts, having her fling my efforts back in my face. I may not be experienced at being in a relationship, but why can’t she see that all I’ve ever tried to do is care for her?
“I can’t take her, Alex.” Her voice is broken. And it fucking kills me that she’s being so stubborn about this. I know she wants her independence, but she’s not a child anymore, and I’m not trying to be like her parents. I’m not holding her back from achieving anything on her own. Christ, the woman can clearly do anything she puts her mind to. I just wanted to help and make her happy. Why is that so bad?
“Fine. I’ll keep her at my place until you come to your senses,” I say gruffly, trying to somehow regain some semblance of calm.
She shakes her head, her hand pressed to her lips as she looks down at Molly, then turns with a sob to run into her building. Molly lets out a small whine, watching her go. My hand reaches down to caress her bony head.
“I know, old girl. I hate seeing her go as well.”
I force myself to turn and walk down the street toward my apartment. As we walk, the clouds in the sky start to drizzle rain on us, not unusual for a spring day in Manhattan, but miserable all the same. Of course, I don’t have an umbrella with me, I foolishly expected to be warm and dry in Savannah’s apartment by now, showering Molly with affection and possibly having Savannah show me some, too. Instead, the poor dog and I are walking through the rain, dodging other people and puddles, both of us confused by the way things went down back there.
At least I know I’ve got the things I’ll need to have Molly at my place. In my head, Savannah and Molly would both be spending a lot of time there, and I wanted to be prepared. I had planned to go shopping with Savannah for supplies for her place later today. I thought it would be something enjoyable for us to do together, a way to celebrate Molly finally being with Savannah, where she belongs. Now I see just how foolish I was by thinking I knew what Savannah wanted.
I open the door to my building, lead Molly past my confused doorman who probably never expected to see me with a dog, and into the elevator. Then, as if my day hadn’t been shitty enough, as the dog and I both drip rain water all over the elevator floor, my phone beeps with a message.
DAD: Call me.
That’s it. Two words from the man I haven’t spoken to in years. Two words that somehow make my stomach clench in fear. There is no good reason for him to want to speak to me unless something is wrong.
As soon as we’re inside my apartment, I towel off Molly, show her where her food and water bowls are located, and make sure she’s settled on the bed I bought. Once I’ve changed out of my soaking wet clothes and into a pair of sweats and an old swim team hoodie, I grab a bottle of whiskey and a glass before sinking onto my couch. Only after I’ve poured out a healthy amount and drunk half of it do I pick up my phone and dial the number that will connect me with a man who has never done anything more than make me feel like shit.
“Alex?” His voice sounds rough, tired.
“Yes,” I respond curtly. I can already tell this conversation is not going to be good.
“It’s your mother,” he starts. Then my father does something I’ve never heard before. He sobs. It’s quiet, but I hear it, nonetheless. “She’s sick, Alex. You need to come home.”
Silence.
There’s no love lost between my father and me. My mother is the only thing that connects us outside of our common DNA. For some reason she loves him, and I can grudgingly accept that he must love her, too. In his own fucked up way, of course. But I have not once, in all the years since I left, had any desire to see him or to set foot in England ever again. The last time I was there, he screamed at me for missing a world record by a tenth of a second. I’ve never been good enough for him, not even with two Olympic silver medals. Yet with those few words, he has effectively summoned me back to the home that I never intended on returning to.
“I’ll book a flight.” I don’t waste time asking questions; I have no desire to be on the phone with him any longer than I have to. After I hang up, I sit in my dark apartment, my glass of whiskey held limply in my hand. I feel tears track down my face for the first time in a long time. Sensing my upset, Molly walks over and rests her head in my lap. It’s a comforting weight, but not the comfort I want right now. The person I want is close by, but feels far away. And I have no right to reach out to her in this moment. Not with how we left things. Suddenly the weight of what I did, how I disrespected her, comes crashing down. Like a bolt of lightning, I see the error of my ways. What I thought was a gesture of caring and generosity, was a slap in the face to a woman like Savannah who has worked so hard to establish her own independent life. My motivations don’t mean shit anymore.
“Fuck” I roar into the empty space, startling Molly and making her skitter away from me. Even the dog doesn’t want to be near me.
I throw back the rest of my whiskey, pour another shot and toss that down, too. Then I open up my laptop and book a plane ticket to London for tomorrow morning. After another shot of whiskey, I stumble into my bedroom and start haphazardly throwing clothes on the bed.
