Page 47 of Nothing But It All
When I think about it,really think about it, Maddie is right. Lauren has always been capable, but now it’s more than that. It truly is self-sufficiency. I can’t think of a thing she doesn’t do herself. There’s not one thing she really needs me for these days.
My throat tightens.
No one needs me anymore. Everyone in my life—Lauren, the kids, Dad, my friends—they’ve all moved on becauseIchecked out.Me.
I have no one to blame but myself.
My stomach drops. The weight of the acid churning inside it splashes over, singeing my veins.
Lauren is this way—self-sufficient and capable, angry and bitter—because I made her this way.
“Damn it,”I groan, shaking my head to clear the cobwebs that I only now see.
I get to my feet as a stream of situations and conversations roll through my mind.
“You didn’t say I looked hot.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“No, you didn’t. You asked when I started sleeping like this.”
I wipe a hand down my face.
“I said she was hot, but that’s not what she heard. She heard me say she was acting different,” I say to no one in particular. “But it wasn’theracting different.Iwas acting different.”
Sweat trickles down my back as I rack my brain for the last time I told her, prior to this, that she was beautiful. I come up empty.
My mind reels, searching desperately for something to hold on to.
“When was the last time I just did something nice for her? When was the last time I told her I was proud of her? When was the last timeI made her feel like I love her?” I grit my teeth so hard that I hear them rub together.“What have I been doing?”
Every conversation we’ve had where, instead of listening, I was defending myself—sure as shit that I was right—plays through my memory. The justifications for being gone. The excuses for missing dinner and date nights. All the reasons I gave, with only half a thought about why I was on the periphery of her life.
I’ve been filling up buckets with holes in the bottom.
“I’ve been depositing money in our account and nothing into our life—my family’s life.Fuck,” I yell, sending a flock of birds into the air.
Everything looked fine because I wanted it to be fine. It was never okay.
Frantic, I grab my phone from my pocket and pray that I see a few bars of service. There they are—one, sometimes two, little promises of connection.
I don’t want to make this call, but I have no other choice. I need a sounding board, and I have only one person I can count on to make sure I don’t fuck this up.
It rings four times before she picks up.
“Hello?” Billie asks.
“Hey, Bills. It’s Jack.”
“Is everything okay?”
Groaning, I pace a small circle on the dock. “That’s a loaded question.”
“All right. Well, is everything okay with Lauren and the kids?”
“Yes. Thanks for caring about me too.”
“Shut up.”
