Page 36 of Advice from a Sunflower

Chapter 18

Lyla

“We have a meeting scheduled this Friday to touch base with Hank about the details of the new contract. I thought we’d have more time to go over it beforehand, but you decided to take a sabbatical to the worst place on Earth instead,” Natalie jabs over the phone, her tough-love agent cap firmly in place.

I roll my eyes toward the cracked ceiling in Marnie’s dining room, noting the familiar watermarks that had been there back when I was just a lonely teenager writing stories that I assumed no one would ever see.

“I think we’re going to need to reschedule Hank for next week or…” I let my voice die off, a nervous smirk forming on my lips as Natalie lets out an exasperated growl from the other end of the line.

“Or what, Lyla? How can I make a schedule if I have no idea when you’ll be back?”

She’s frustrated with me. I get it. But she isn’t my parent, and sometimes the line between friend and agent gets so blurred between us, she forgets that her salary comes from my earnings, not the other way around. If I don’t want to write or make a meeting, I don’t have to. For the most part.

Anyway, it’s not like I do this all the time. Writing is my life. Work is my life. I’ve dedicated years to my career, never shutting it off so that I don’t disappoint the people who hold me accountable. Sure, Natalie is a huge player in my success and I’m eternally grateful for everything she does, but it doesn’t mean I have to bow down to her every demand.

I sigh into the phone as I doodle around my notes from our call. “It’s just not a good time for me to leave my family right now, Nat. You know I wouldn’t push this if it weren’t important. Let’s schedule a Skype meeting in the next couple of days for me and you to go over the contract. Once we do that, we can get Hank in on a conference call and discuss it with him. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“Fine,” she relents, clicking around on her keyboard. My phone pings in my ear and I know she’s already sent the invite. “Not everything can be done remotely, though. You have to come back at some point.”

“That’s the beauty of my career, isn’t it? I can do it from anywhere.” I smile, knowing she can’t argue.

Natalie is a face-to-face kind of person. It used to bother me that she always insisted I come in for meetings that could have easily been handled through the phone. I’ve grown used to it now. The only people I truly owe my time and attention to are my readers, my fans. The people who take risks on me every day by purchasing and reading the inner workings of my mind and supporting a career I never thought I was capable of having. Natalie never seems to get that part.

“Brad has been asking about you, you know. He’s getting restless. Have you even bothered picking up the phone and talking things through?”

Natalie introduced me to Brad. She thinks it’s a huge career move to be seen dating a movie star, even if he couldn’t quite break into the mainstream field yet. She had been dating one of his friends at the time and practically salivated at the opportunity to set her lonely author friend up. She and the friend lasted for a few weeks before she grew bored of him. I, on the other hand, am apparently chained to Brad for the rest of my life.

I shake my head, knowing she can’t see the millionth eye-roll I just gave her. Her meddling into my relationships has gotten out of hand.

“No, I haven’t. I’m not talking about it with you, though, so you can go ahead and drop it right now.”

“Lyla,” she whines. “He’s a good guy and he’s willing to put up with your little quirks. You shouldn't throw away this opportunity.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Ugh, fine. I’ll send you the invite for Hank when I get confirmation from his girl. Answer your damn phone more often and hurry up and get home!” she screams as I let out a long and dramatic, “bye!” before hanging up.

I didn’t want to be stuck in The Hollow this long. I just feel like there isn’t much of a choice for me with Marnie spiraling deeper into her depression with each passing day.

I’m not sure how she’s dealt with the kind of pressure that comes from being the sole provider for her family for so long, but it seems to finally be taking its toll. Leaving her now would be one of the most selfish things I could do, even if every fiber of my being is screaming to get out. I texted Natalie with the news that my stay was indefinite this morning and she insisted on immediately having a meeting where she shamelessly begged me to reconsider.

She pulled out all the stops: threatening my career, throwing promises in my face, and bringing up every nasty detail I’d ever told her about The Hollow in the past.

None of it is going to work. When it comes to my family, there’s nothing more important. I never want Marnie, the girls, or even my mother to feel the same worthlessness I have felt my entire life. And leaving them in the middle of a crisis felt exactly like that’s what I would be doing: showing them how much less important they are to me than my career, which clearly isn't the case.

Although, I will admit that after my dinner with Eli a few nights ago, I was ready to pack up and leave on the next redeye. Hell, I would have driven back if I had to. But then I stepped through the front door and heard it—the sobbing. It was coming from Marnie’s room again and when I rounded the corner and saw the girls quietly sitting in front of the TV, their eyes glossy, stomachs growling, and hair a complete mess from the day they’d had, I knew the decision had already been made for me.

I fixed them dinner, got them ready for sleep, and then crawled in next to Marnie once they were securely tucked into their own beds. She barely acknowledged me, but her sobs quieted down once I wrapped my arms around her and let her know I was there for her. No matter what.

My love doesn’t have conditions or limitations. I’m not capable of leaving it in one place and coming back to it later. It’s inescapable. Ever-present. Commanding.

I may give it to people who haven’t always necessarily deserved it, but it wouldn’t be love if I got to pick and choose who received it and when.

“Thank you,” Marnie mumbles quietly from the bottom step of the staircase behind me once I set my phone back down on the table. I spin around to look at her and my heart drops at the sight.

Wrapped tightly in her comforter, hair piled at the top of her head, and eyes sunken and dark, she looks like the picture of grief. Only, I don’t think she’s just grieving her relationship with Josh. Not necessarily. I think she’s grieving the potential for a normal life for her children. Of the reality that they had been stripped of a father who would have given them the love and care that they needed. That they deserved as innocent, perfect little humans.

“What are you doing up so early? You should be getting some rest. You had a long night.”

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