Page 6 of Take What Hurts

The sick feeling was overcome by a flare of irritation. It sped through her arms and legs and made her head spin. Her brain warned her against letting it into her tone, and she gathered herself before she spoke. Softly. “Mom, I can’t. I’m not in Seattle. I’m in San Francisco for work.” She tried for confidence but hated the way her voice trembled with the old fear that rattled up her throat.

“You never make time to see me—always some excuse or another. We have much to discuss, and you must make time for me. Reilly is married, and with a new baby, did you know? She shared the news with me last week, and what wonderful news for her. She always wanted children, didn’t she?” Mackenzie squeezed her eyes closed. Because, no, she didn’t know. And she didn’t dare to think too hard about that right this second. She filed it away as she leaned heavily against the wall opposite the restroom doors. Before she could say anything, her mother continued. “We need to discuss your future, because it simply will not do for you to remain unattached under the circumstances. It might be time for you to expand your horizons and open the pool. To men, obviously. Obviously, having a baby with a woman didn’t work out, what with the losses, but really, that was years ago, so water under the bridge, and it would be much easier to have some success with a man and avoid all of that IVF unpleasantness.”

Mackenzie’s brain gave up on taking in the rest of her mother’s rambling monologue, and, with the wall holding her up, she tried to quell the stabbing that started behind her eyes. The complete ignorance about her sexuality—that is, the fact that Mackenzie was a lesbian who hadn’t even looked twice at a man—didn’t even register anymore. Her mother had never even tried to understand, perpetually believing that “it was a phase.” No. She always wanted children, didn’t she? Those words were like a fucking knife. They hacked away at that cavernous space inside her that only ever seemed to grow larger with each passing month. She vaguely wondered what else her mother had discussed with Reilly—Reilly, who had left her without much of a second thought only months after the last time she’d miscarried. The most devastating time. Mackenzie’s stomach curdled at the memory of how easy Reilly had found it to leave her. How little fight she had for them. Mackenzie vaguely wondered what Reilly had said to her mother about the “losses.” She gasped in a breath, and it made her chest burn.

“And you know—” Her mother’s prattling paused. “What is happening? Are you crying? God, whatever for now, Mackenzie? Honestly, you need to stop this wallowing behavior. This is what we need to discuss⁠—”

“Mom, I have to go,” she choked.

“Fine. Dinner, eight p.m. I expect to see you there.”

And it was like Mackenzie’s brain bowed to the command. “Okay.” It was barely a meek whisper, and as she pulled the phone away from her ear and stabbed at the red button on the screen, her hand came up to her mouth and she let her head fall with a soft thud against the wall, stifling a sob that wrenched itself from her chest.

Held up by the wall at her back, she focused on expanding her lungs as much as she could before forcing as much air out of them as possible. The age-old guilt the little girl in her carried warred with the confident indignation that drove the adult she was. Her therapist’s voice echoed in her ears—You’re not responsible—but it was difficult to believe when by her own admission she could see the perspective her mother had drilled into her for Mackenzie’s entire life. That choosing to bring Mackenzie into the world—giving her life—had destroyed her mother’s own life. Ruined her marriage, torpedoed her career prospects, led to eighteen years of financial struggle. That Mackenzie should be grateful to be walking around on the earth with the opportunities she had.

Adult logic and decades of conditioning fought each other and shredded pieces off her daily. But the old feelings—fear of abandonment, of guilt—won over logic every time. It was a point of extreme frustration for her therapist, and one of overwhelming embarrassment for Mackenzie.

Sucking in a breath that burned her solar plexus, she resolved that she was not going to think about this right now. She would bury this and talk to her therapist about it on the way back to Seattle.

Opening her eyes and focusing on a spot on the patterned carpet, she forced her mind back to her long-standing objective. The one-track thought that drove her every minute of every day. That made her push a bit harder, work a bit longer than everyone else. That forced her to be ruthless with her opponents and colleagues and that, when she took another winning step toward it, gave her a high she couldn’t beat with anything else in her life.

Partner. You just need to make partner.

And this file. This ugly monster that innumerable lawyers had held and failed to resolve. It was the key. The last barrier. Finish it, and finish it well, and she’d have what she so desperately wanted.

Her brain kept it on a loop, and the Mackenzie she needed herself to be today filtered its way back through and slowly reassumed control. She took a deep breath and swiped at her eyes to rid them of the tears she’d been unable to contain. When she was sure she was done—composed—she straightened her spine and began the walk back to the conference room. And promptly walked straight into Elliott.

Mackenzie’s breath left her with an “oomph,” and Elliott’s hands grabbed her shoulders to steady them both. Elliott’s hands were like conduits, and goose bumps erupted on every part of Mackenzie’s body.

Elliott huffed out an awkward laugh. “Hey, we’re just about ready to—” She paused, peering at Mackenzie’s face for a moment. “Hey, are you⁠—”

Mackenzie shook her head and pulled herself out of Elliott’s grasp. Distraction, distraction, distraction. “I’m fine,” she snapped, harsher than she intended. “Sorry, I got waylaid.” She tried a tight smile, but she knew by how it pulled at the skin on her cheeks that it came out as more of a grimace. Elliott’s hands dropped to her sides with a slap.

“Okay,” Elliott muttered, eyebrows knitting together. She didn’t push it, and Mackenzie could have sagged with relief. “I’m sorry about earlier—I wasn’t expecting, well, you.” She laughed dryly. “You took me by surprise.”

The air thickened between them in the silence, before Mackenzie managed, “You took me by surprise too.” The words came out far breathier than she’d intended, and she watched Elliott’s pupils dilate slightly in response. For a moment, Elliott’s gaze dropped to Mackenzie’s mouth, and Mackenzie sucked in a sharp breath. “We should go. They’re probably tearing each other apart without us.”

Elliott took a step back and shook her head. “Right. You’re right. We should, yeah, we should go.”

Mackenzie nodded and brushed past Elliott. There was no other way to put it. Elliott was hot. All dark eyes and loose curls and shy smiles. Exactly her type. And Elliott—well—there were signs Mackenzie was her type. And in any other situation, she’d free the part of her she was trying to keep buried down deep right now and allow herself to hope. As things stood, though… Shaking her head, Mackenzie kept walking—resolutely shoving those thoughts aside, because how fucking unprofessional. As Elliott followed her down the hallway, Mackenzie couldn’t escape the feeling that skittered through her that this file wasn’t only going to be a fight against the other side. It was going to be a fight with herself too.

FIVE

ELLIOTT

Elliott drummed the steering wheel to the trashy punk song blaring through the speakers in her Subaru. She’d landed back in Seattle and gone straight to her Belltown apartment, changed into her favorite sweatpants, and headed straight for Heston. As she sat behind yet more red taillights heading out of the city, she tried not to think about San Francisco. She tried especially not to think about Mackenzie, who, at the conclusion of the entirely unsuccessful conference, had collected her belongings in one swift sweep of the table and hurried from the room with nothing more than a tight smile in Elliott’s direction and an “I’ll be in touch” directed at her client.

Elliott had left Matilda on the sidewalk outside the building where they’d finished up what had descended into a pissing match mostly instigated and fueled by Anna. Matilda hadn’t helped her own case much, having inhaled every ounce of bait Anna had thrown at her. As Elliott had poured herself into an Uber, she had reassured Matilda she’d be in touch after the holiday weekend.

Mackenzie and Elliott had spent the day attempting to bring their clients into a reasonable discussion about the splitting of their finances, but they had been powerless in the face of the pure and unadulterated resentment that doused every proposal put forward. Elliott knew this matter was bad, but nothing had prepared her for how truly fruitless an endeavor this would be. Add to that the way she’d completely embarrassed herself in front of her client, Mackenzie’s client, and Mackenzie herself right from the outset, and the tight grip of failure had her in a choke hold.

She sighed heavily as she pulled into the driveway of the bungalow where she’d grown up. Painted white, with a US flag hanging off the wraparound porch alongside the Pride flag her dad had gone out and bought the same day Elliott came out to her parents, the house was a warm hug. Elliott’s limbs relaxed as she climbed the porch steps and walked into the warmth of the living room.

“Mom, Dad? Anyone home?”

Elliott’s mom, Nancy, popped her head—just her head—around the corner from where she stood in the kitchen. “Honey! You’re here! Get in here and help me. I’m elbows deep in this dough for the pizza, and it’s too wet.”

Elliott smiled and dropped her bag on the floor next to the door before she kissed Nancy on the cheek. “Looks good, Mom. Where’s Dad and Toby?” Not a second later, Toby, the family’s eight-year-old golden retriever, bounded through the doggy door, panting loudly and nails clacking on the reclaimed hardwood floors. He slid into Elliott’s legs, and Elliott landed on her ass on the floor, laughing as Toby slobbered all over her cheeks. “Clearly it’s been too long since I’ve been home.”