The Long Way Home

The Long Way Home Page 15

He looked down, shaking his head slowly, "He just wants you to come home with us on the jet. He wants you downstairs and ready to leave in half an hour."

I looked at him, "I'm here with someone."

He nodded, "I know about Mike. I always have." He fought something when he said it.

I shook my head, "I have never done a thing with him, not since you and I got engaged. I never cheated on you, not once."

"But you loved him from the minute I met you. You think it was easy knowing I was always second to him?"

I felt the rage building, "So you eased your pain with the pussy of a young girl? Did you get her V-card, Phil?"

He stood taller, meeting my rage, "We are leaving in half an hour, pack your shit, J.D." He stepped into my face, towering over me, "You think your family will let you marry someone like him? Not a chance. Your father has worked too hard to prove himself to the elite families. He isn’t going to let you throw away all that hard work." He spit on me as he spoke, "People like him, they're the ones we have affairs with in seedy hotels. You just try to be more elegant about it. I am willing to concede you will never love me, but I refuse to be left for a hockey player. Why not a janitor or a bartender? You think I didn’t know about that young man giving you his number the other day. You think I missed that?"

I shoved him back, "While you were balls deep in Eleanor? Yeah, I do think you missed that."

He slapped me hard. It caught me off guard. I fell back onto the bed. He stopped himself from attacking; I watched the flinch in his body. His chest was rising and falling like he was about to scream. I gripped my face as my lower lip started to tremble. I had never been hit before. Tears of hate and anger filled my eyes, "Fuck you, Phil." I pointed at the door, "Get out."

He shook his head, "You think you can humiliate me with a man like that and not expect me to retaliate?"

My whole body was trembling with fear and hatred, and even a little shame. Somehow, he made me feel it. I sniffed, hating that he had made me cry. I hated crying for him. He grabbed my arm and dragged me to the door. I put my feet down, fighting him but he won out. He threw me over his shoulder and opened the door. I pounded on his back but he walked as if I were a child having a fit.

He pressed the elevator. I was kicking and screaming but no one was on that floor, the presidential suite was the only room on the floor.

As the door opened, I didn’t see what happened but I flew back off his shoulder, slamming into the wall. I cried out as Phil landed on me. I tried to crawl away as tears were streaming my face and sobs were ripping from me. I heaved and crawled. Someone grabbed my arm, dragging me into the room. I caught a glimpse of Phil on the ground moaning as the door was shut. I collapsed onto the floor as France wrapped around me. I could feel him breathing as he held me.

He carried me to the bed and kissed my forehead, "I'll be right back."

I grabbed him, holding him to me, "No. My father is here too. Stay. They'll press charges if you hurt him." I knew he was capable of killing Phil.

He climbed onto the bed with me.

"Did he hurt you?"

I shook my head, "No."

He lifted my face, obviously there was a mark. He was up and off the bed and flying out the door. It slammed shut before I could stop him.

I lay there, contemplating leaving the room and witnessing him murdering Phil, but I decided against it. I knew, seeing my bruises and the way I would kowtow to my father, would only enrage him more.

I waited for a long time, frozen and afraid of the outcome of my actions. France was an innocent bystander but he would lose the most.

Finally, the door opened and he came sauntering in. His wooly face was flushed. He looked at me, "Your dad is here." My father walked in behind him. When he saw the state of me, he stopped. I wiped my eyes and sat upright, perfectly. He looked at my cheek and sighed, "Phil?"

I nodded.

He nodded and straightened his suit, "Mike, do you mind if I have a moment?"

Mike gave me a look. I nodded and he walked out of the room. I caught a glimpse of Phil in the hallway. I didn’t even want to imagine how that was going to go.

My father looked around the huge room, settling on the couches on the other side. He held his hand out towards them, "Shall we?" I got up, straightening my dress and hair and followed him over there. We sat opposite one another. He cleared his throat, "I have spoken with Phil on this matter of infidelity. He is seeking some guidance from his family's doctor. You have to see how awkward this is for us all, you two having troubles right now. With it being so close to the wedding and all."

I felt the look creep across my face, "He had sex with a young girl in our house in a cape and he hit me."

He nodded, "People make mistakes, Jacqueline. I have made my fair share and your mother doesn’t rub my face in them."

I nodded, "I know. I know about the affairs you have had on Mom. I know you have hit her. I have seen you do it. You think I want that for my life? Even worse, is that the life you want for me?"

His eyes filled with anger, "The life we have given you has been taxing. Yes, there have been moments that weren’t perfect, but we sacrificed a lot for you and your sister. We have had highs and lows like all marriages. One day, you will grow up and make the same kind of choices for your children so, they too, can school with the best. Marry the best. Live amongst the best."

I shook my head, feeling the tears dripping down my cheeks as empty pain was taking all my strength and will away, "Daddy, I never cared where I went to school. I was never one of them, not really. I can't marry Phil. You can't make me." It was a weak attempt at defiance. Even I heard the pathetic tone in my voice.

His voice never changed from soft and controlled when he nodded, "I can. I'm friends with some people who can make sure Mike doesn’t play anymore. It's very political, that hockey. Or even worse, what would happen if they found a bunch of drugs in his locker or house or a dead whore? I can make that happen. I can also make sure that you have nothing. No money and no connections. I will cut you off completely and none of your family or friends will ever speak to you again."

My stomach dropped. The list of possibilities was endless. Dead whores, no money, no jobs. Was love worth the loss of everything else? Was my self-respect worth Mike losing everything?

He nodded at the empty look on my face, "The jet will be waiting for you for one hour." He knew my answer. He got up and placed a small bottle on the table and left the room. He didn’t care about me at all. He would ruin Mike; I would ruin Mike. I would drag him down with me. He had worked so hard to get to where he was. My stomach ached as I came face to face with the brutal truth. I crawled on my knees to the small bottle. Defeated and broken, I opened the pill bottle and slipped the single blue pill into my fingertips. I rolled it back and forth, contemplating not taking it and forcing myself to suffer through the immense pain I was going to feel when I broke Mike’s heart. I placed the pill between my lips and tilted my head back, taking the coward’s path as always. The pill was sliding down my throat when Mike walked into the room, looking lost and confused. He glanced at the pills in my hand and the tears on my cheeks.

"Are you leaving?"

I nodded slowly.

He tilted his head, like he was begging God for strength to deal with me and the giant failure I was, "Jack, come on. How are you still scared of him? I will protect you from them. Stay with me," he dropped to his knees in front of me.

I ran my hands through his beard, unable to control the tears streaming my cheeks. I couldn’t blink. I couldn’t do anything beyond breathe and touch him. I couldn’t risk dragging him in anymore. I knew goodbye this time meant goodbye.

I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his forehead and whispered, "I am leaving something very important with you. Keep it safe for me."

He pulled back, gripping my wrists, "No. You are staying." He looked angry and hurt and I hated myself. The panic attack inside of me was holding off, waiting for the blue pill to start.

I shook my head, "I need to grow up and be the girl I was born to be, Mike. Together we are always going to be fifteen years old. I need to be part of the adult world now. Thank you for coming to my rescue."

He looked angry but he didn’t speak. He sat back and watched me get up. Finally he blew, "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW? HE HITS YOU AND FUCKS SOME KID AND YOU ARE GOING BACK? JESUS CHRIST, JACK! WHAT DOES IT TAKE? HOW MUCH MORE MONEY DO I HAVE TO MAKE TO MAKE YOU HAPPY? HOW MUCH, JACK? I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN ABOUT ME AND YOU! ALWAYS!" I stepped into his arms, calming him down. He whispered into my hair, "Always."

I nodded blankly, "I know."

"Don’t go."

I sniffled but I barely felt it; the pill was starting to take effect, "I have to. I have to, at least, go back. I can't let them bring you into this."

"I don’t fucking care about them. Walk, I have enough money for us both. Who cares. Let's leave. We'll get that stupid vineyard in Italy you always wanted."

I shuddered with a sob, "You’ve worked so hard to get where you are. I can't do this."

He grabbed my face roughly and pressed his lips against mine, "You can. You can be brave, I've seen it. Stop being such a baby and trust me. Please."

I looked into his dark eyes and shook my head, "I can't." I lowered my face and just told him the truth, I had never kept a secret from him ever, “France, my dad is threatening your safety and mine. He’s going to plant drugs, or get you fired or arrested, or put a dead hooker in one of your houses.” He was silent. I looked up.

He shook his head, “Baby, I don't care. Jack, I don't care. I’d go to jail for you.”

I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him, “I can’t ask you to though. I would protect you from everything. I love you. Forever.”

He nodded slowly, “I will be in New York tomorrow—like that cheesy-ass movie you made me watch a hundred times. If you change your mind, I will be waiting at Grand Central Station. I can't do the fucking Empire State Building. I hate heights. I'll meet you there at 6 pm. I will wait there tomorrow and the next day. If you don’t come then, I'm done—forever."