Chapter 26

***

Time has never passed more slowly.

And though I'm drowning in Jake's sweatpants and a hoodie, I feel absolutely naked.

Meanwhile, his sister is skillfully shuffling the paperwork on the coffee table, discussing business with Jake. I'm just here prickling on a pile of needles, unacknowledged. The feeling of being small and vulnerable gnaws beneath the surface, like a ticking time bomb.

"How many hours did you work last week?" she asks Jake.

"Um...around sixty, give or take," Jake says, hands folded behind his head, making me wonder how in the world he's so relaxed with her intense attitude. 

Naomi quickly signs some checks, shoves them in white envelopes, slams them into a stack and hands it to him. "Make sure everyone gets it by Thursday."

Jake catches my observant stare. "Naomi handles payroll. She's in charge of any paperwork that goes through the company."

I nod, bored. I'm more curious about the practicality of her acrylic coffin nails. Like how she picks her boogers or wipes her butt.

"You want dessert? She made it herself." Jake smiles as he heads to the kitchen to grab some tupperware from the fridge.

I hide my grimace. Does he really expect me to accept food from someone that won't even make eye contact with me?

"Um, no, thanks. I don't really like sweets."

"What kind of a person doesn't like sweets?" She mutters while reading.

I focus on a grounding exercise to calm the looming panic.

Notice five objects around you, listen to four different sounds, touch three textures, observe the taste in your mouth.

"The kind that has me in their life," Jake replies as he comes back. "I'm already enough sugar." He kisses my head before sitting down. "So, what happened today?"

"Uh..." I rub my forehead. "Kayden and I went to rescue Molly. It's her birthday and Nat had a pretentious party that Molly didn't want to be a part of. So we showed up and... influenced her to let Molly go."

"Nice! I'm sure that means so much to her." He says and I sigh in relief that he's not holding it against me. He really is too kind.

"How do you know her?" Naomi asks him from under her lashes.

"I was observing therapy sessions when they came in to see Mia. Her mom is brutal."

"Hmph," She piles the papers in one corner. "Well, parenting isn't as easy as it seems."

"She's saying that cause I put her through hell when I was a kid," Jake teases, pointing his thumb at her. "She basically raised me when our parents worked all the time."

"You still are a kid." She retorts, but there's softness in her eyes when she looks at him, even the corners of her lips pull up. "You're just taller now and hairier, but still as annoying."

"Yeah, and you're fatter." He laughs when Naomi smacks him across the head. "I'm kidding. God, why are the women in my life so aggressive?" He looks at me when I snort. "This one here punched me when I tried to defend her!"

"That's great," she replies and gets up to go to the kitchen.

She turns the water on and grabs the dirty dessert containers, even though Jake tells her to leave them.

I look at Jake warily and he beckons me to go talk to her, to which I widen my eyes in a 'have you lost your mind' type of way and he just points his chin with a gentle 'don't worry, it'll be okay' fashion.

Easy for an extrovert to say. This is hell and I'd rather die. But... I have to fix my mistake. She wouldn't be this mean if I didn't cancel on her and then show up half naked at his apartment.

So I get up and trudge to the kitchen, standing beside her by the sink.

"Do you need any help?" I ask and she makes a tsk sound.

"No... I'm good."

Wonderful.

I look at Jake across the room for help but he's watching TikTok videos.

I clear my throat and grab a dish towel, then pick up the container she set in the dish rack and begin to dry it.

"I'm sorry for canceling brunch... and that outfit," I say.

She sighs, eyes on the dishes the entire time. "It's fine... I'm glad your patient is feeling better."

Okay, progress. She didn't cuss me out. Do I go back to my seat now? Should I... comment on the quality of the dish soap? Should I compliment her hair?

"So, are you not worried about dating a student?" she asks, judgment clear in her tone as she feigns nonchalance.

My pulse quickens unpleasantly. "I am, but we're trying to be careful."

"Are you enjoying the adrenaline rush?"

I beg myself to remain neutral and not let her get under my skin.

"No, actually. I hate adrenaline. I think our situation is reckless."

"Agreed." She nudges the container towards me and I grab it a little too quickly.

"He's not in any danger." I focus on drying. "If anyone was to find out, I'd be the only one in trouble."

"That's not true." She chuckles.

"What?" I look up, growing unbearably more nervous.

She finally flicks her gaze my way, slicing me with belittling amusement. As if she sees my behavior as an act and finds it cute that I think she'll fall for it.

"Jake's the kid of the family, he's been loved and supported his whole life." She points at him, speaking quietly so he doesn't hear. "He's had it a little too easy, so he might not understand that not everyone was raised like he was."

Okay, so she's worried that I don't have a family? I don't understand.

"He knows about my past." I frown, shriveling at the shame that weighs down on me. "He knows I have some issues and am still getting better." .

"I know. And I'm sorry for whatever you've been through." She sighs and resumes to rinse the last dish. "I just worry that when things get hard, you won't be able to fight for him the way he fights for you."

And she looks at me, not expecting a disagreement. Because there is none. There's only a sunken reminder of everything I've ignored. Every reason why I've pushed him away, why I ditched him at the club. Every brittle insecurity glares with blunt exposure, and I can't blink away.

"Alright, kiddo." Naomi walks over to Jake. She tosses her giant Louis Vuitton bag over her shoulder and kisses his cheek. "I'll see you later."

"We should do a proper hangout since today didn't work out." Jake looks between the two of us.

I scrape the pad of my finger with my nail, counting the seconds for this to end.

"Yeah, maybe bring her to my birthday." She gives me a smirk, and I know she's testing to see if I'll run like a coward.

Jake pulls her into his arms, kisses her head, tells her he loves her. Then she's out the door and he turns to face me. I force my facial muscles to move. To act in proportion to the situation.

Except I can't. I feel worthless.

And I can't fight the black hole that drags me inside.

"Mia, what's wrong? Are you okay?" He tries to touch my arm but I step back.

"I'm sorry, um, please don't worry. But I also need to leave."

"Why? What happened?" He frowns. "Did she say something to you?"

"No, not at all." I bite on my lip until it hurts and grab my dress from the stool. "I've got to go see my mom. I was supposed to see her this week but it didn't work out."

"Your mom?" He blocks my way when I head for the door, but I can't look at him. "Are you sure that's a good idea? Look at me."

I lift my gaze, knowing it's cold and distant. Knowing it's the only way I won't crumble. "Am I sure it's a good idea to see the only family I have? Yes, I'm sure."

"I didn't mean it like that, but she's said awful things to you—"

"She has, but she's everything I have." I clench my jaw and my hands. "I'm not going to abandon her for her shortcomings."

~

The familiar scent of perfume and cigarettes stifle the air of the small garage apartment. The greasy potato wedges on the stove sizzle with corn oil. A Russian movie plays on TV. Dollar store candle lights flicker on every countertop.

I've been here for twenty five minutes. Already gave her an envelope of cash for her monthly rent. Talked briefly about work, got updated on her latest YouTube findings.

It benefits us both when I'm shut down like this. She's less threatened this way. And I feel nothing.

"So is that guy your boyfriend? The one that was here last time?" she asks when she sets down the fried potatoes on the table.

"No, just someone I like, I guess." I sprinkle extra salt on the potatoes to hide the greasy taste.

"Does he work?"

"Yeah, he works for his dad's company."

"Nice, you don't want a man who doesn't bring home any money."

"The money is the least of my worries..."

"What, is it his family?"

My eyes widen, but then again, she surprises me sometimes. "He's from a big, happy family..."

"Good luck." She rolls her eyes, shrugging when I snort. "They might act like a big, happy family, but they probably stick their noses in each other's business and judge if someone doesn't behave according to their standards."

"It's funny you mention that... because his sister was pretty intrusive and judgmental..."

"Of course." She scoffs, proud of herself. "They'll badmouth you to him when you're not around, because you're different. And he'll always choose their side, because that's all he understands."

~

That's all he understands...

Love, happiness, a supportive family. Trust. Stability.

That's what Jake is. That's where he comes from.

That's everything I'm not. Everything I don't have.

So what in the world does he want from me?

His concerned eyes, his murmuring voice, his firm embrace haunt my thoughts all the way home. I'm split in half, with ache and hopelessness from this futile need. How weak and pathetic. To crave something I don't deserve.

"You're in an emotional flashback. You're safe. You're not pathetic. You're safe." I mumble to myself.

I turn the music off, pull the shades down. Take deep breaths.

Inhale for five seconds. Pause. Exhale for seven seconds. Repeat.

Unclench your jaw. Loosen your tongue from the roof of your mouth.

"You're not weak. You're not alone. You're not unlovable."

When I'm home, I scrub with a lavender body wash, let the water wash away the toxic shame, the critic, the inner judge.

"You're in an emotional flashback. You're not in danger. You're a grown adult."

I organize the clutter in my apartment. Fold my clothes, put them away. Clean the countertops, do the dishes. I fluff the pillows and turn on the candles.

"You're safe. You're alright. You're okay."

I wrap myself with a plush blanket and hold my stuffed reindeer. The soft fabrics drape over the tension. It's not enough.

I need him.

No, I don't.

"You've got everything that you need. You're ok." I look at myself in the mirror.

I don't see a twenty six year old woman. I don't see a PhD recipient. I don't see a trusted therapist. I don't see a respected professor.

I see a six year old girl with light brown curls and teary eyes. I see an eleven year old girl, alone, listening to fights. I see a thirteen year old girl, on the bathroom floor, knees in her arms.

Hating, blaming, shaming herself for being unloved.

And I fall in that loop. Judging that shame and then blaming myself for doing it.

So I turn to the one thing that keeps me sane. I turn to work.

I lay on the floor on my stomach to read Jake's extra credit assignment to read his evaluation of Molly.

The patient is gentle and kind, a complete opposite of her mother.

This proves that while nurture plays a role in attachment styles, the child's innate resilience is the determining factor of who she'll ultimately become.

The daughter identifies with her mother.

This confirms the theory that narcissistic mothers project themselves onto their children and shame them for straying outside the lines.

Because of this, she grows up seeing herself from the lens of the judgmental parent and adapts the criticism as her own, battling with rational thinking.

Only after she's brought back with patience and kindness, does she see herself clearly.

I shove the notebook away before my tears ruin it and throw my head in my  arms. I scrunch my face to not give in, but the sobs break violently.

Like a child, I cry loudly. And I let it.

I surrender. I give up. I'm alone and I shouldn't be. I don't want to be. I want my mom. I've always wanted my mom. Where is she? Where is she?

The piano tunes that were playing on my phone get interrupted with a second song and I lift my head to inspect the weird glitch.

Except, the second sound isn't coming from my phone. It's outside my apartment. I drag my steps to the door, cursing at it for not having a peephole.

I recognize the song as 'It's On Us' by AJR. I press my ear onto the wooden frame as the song tells me that it's not my fault that I don't feel safe, that we can fight together and make things right together.

I put my hand on the door handle, ignoring the screaming in my head and the terror in my chest. Every muscle and cell begs me to not open. I open anyway.

And the first thing I do is to let out a breathless laughter.

Because he's standing in front of me with a crooked smirk, wearing the maid headband and choker I left behind.

I cover my face as I continue to laugh, sobbing at the same time. And he doesn't move. He just lets me process. He just stands there and smiles.

"Hey, baby."

And I don't know what takes over me. Maybe poor communication skills or the need to hide, but I reach for his sweater and pull him inside, throwing myself in his arms.

I take a deep breath so his scent washes over, and I press every inch of him on every inch of me.

He sings in my ear, telling me that even if my trust is broken, and even if my heart is broken, I will never be broken.

And I snort a little, because he sucks at singing more than me.

~ A/N ~

I'm sorry if this chapter was sad, but I have to write a story that's real. Change isn't linear and love is not enough to save someone.

But it sure as hell helps when you have someone beside you while you save yourself.

This chapter is dedicated to TuffKuki thank you for reading, for your support, your feedback, your humor, and your amazing talent <3