Chapter Nine
Lisa
On Monday morning, I call Mark. “Hey, Mark. It’s Lisa.”
“Hey! Sorry I missed you this weekend. We went up north to see Jessica’s grandparents for the holiday.”
“I understand. Did you have fun?”
He chuckles before saying, “As much as you can with an eighty-year old couple and their spoiled poodle.”
I laugh a little in return and then tell him, “Listen, I want to request a change in the allotment for Jill and Mariah.”
“Hmmm…That’s going to be difficult because she’ll have to sign off on it and I doubt she will do that willingly. Why?” He’s not hiding the fact that he’s suspicious of this request.
I tell him, “I saw Matt’s family while I was in Cincy. Jill moved to Amelia. She’s working two jobs and they are helping her as much as they can, but she’s missing a lot of time with her kid. It’s not Mariah’s fault that this whole thing happened like it did. She needs more time with her mother. Jill is being generous, sharing Mariah with Matt’s family. A little more help could go a long way. If we increase the monthly to one thousand dollars and allow her to request additional for necessities when they come up, of course you’d have to approve them, it will still leave Mariah with enough for college and plenty for the allotment at twenty-five and thirty-years old. Even if those later numbers are less, I think that it will have the most benefit for Mariah while she’s under her mother’s care. Matt’s family has gotten to know Jill and they think she’s a good person and a hard worker. She can still work hard and have some more time for her kid. I don’t think she will argue that. Will you do that, please?”
“Are you sure this is what you want?” It’s obvious he’s skeptical. I’m certain he thinks I’ve lost it.
I let out the breath I’ve been holding and answer, “Yeah, I’m done being bitter and judgmental. She’s allowing Matt’s family to have a relationship with Mariah and it’s helping them to heal. She could have been a bitch, but she hasn’t been. I want to make it easier on all of them. I think I’ve finally accepted that Matt screwed Jill over, too. She’s not the villain I originally made her out to be and it feels better showing compassion in this situation than it does hatred.”
“I’ll contact her lawyer and then draw up the paperwork. That’s pretty amazing what you’re doing for them, Lisa.”
“Nah, it’s what I should have done in the first place. I’m just glad I figured it out before too much time passed. Just make it a stipulation that Matt’s family gets to continue building a relationship with Mariah, please.”
“Sure thing.”
We hang up and I sit thinking about just how far I’ve come in a couple months’ worth of time. Moving to Florida and gaining some perspective is the best thing I could have done. Now I just have to figure out how to handle things with Garrett. That will not be an easy fix and I’m terrified that he won’t want a relationship with his kid. I understand he doesn’t want one with me, but I’m praying he’ll want one with our child. For the first time since Jill showed up on my doorstep, I have an idea of what she was feeling and it hurts.
Later that afternoon I’m sitting at my desk when Francis, the receptionist, comes to my office with a delivery guy in tow.
“Ms. Browning? I have a package for you and I need your signature.”
Francis rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest. “I told him I could sign for it and you’d still get it, but he needs you to sign for it.”
“That’s a specific directive from the sender, ma’am. I’m just doing my job,” the delivery guy says, more than a little annoyed.
“That’s fine, Francis. No big deal.”
I take the package and look for a return label, but don’t locate one. I open it to find the same glossy, four-page advertisement about visiting Florida that Matt’s parents had. Then I pull out an eight by ten of me sitting on the beach at sunset, the one on the cover of the brochure, minus the writing, framed and beautifully matted. Attached to the back is an envelope. I open it with shaking hands and pull out a handwritten letter and a check. The check has a lot of zeros and is made out to me. I open the letter:
Dearest Lisa,
By now, I’m certain you’ve seen the ad, but in case you haven’t, I included it. When we met I was shooting for the tourist council of Florida and the pictures of you were the ones chosen. I didn’t want to share those. They felt personal and private, but they are stunning and the best of my shots by far. The check is your half of the payment for their use. Don’t be surprised if people start tracking you down to model for them. I’ve had a lot of requests for your name. I’ve refused to share it thus far, hoping to keep the true beauty that is you in my heart.
Leaving you that day was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but I couldn’t stay and be one more person who’d hurt you. Seeing your pain, even in those brief moments, gutted me. I hope this finds you happy at your new job. I had to do a little digging to find out where you were. I hope that doesn’t sound too creepy.
As for the picture, I wanted you to have a copy of the most stunning photograph I’ve ever taken. I hope it will remind you of a happy time and of someone who thinks the sun rises and sets with you. Take care of yourself.
Heart & Soul,
Garrett
I get up and close my office door as I feel the tears building. With the hormones running rampant in my system my emotions feel like a pressure cooker just waiting to explode. Anger and hurt swirl inside of me, wounding me further. Just when I think I’m making personal progress with all the loss and dysfunction in my life something reminds me that I’m not quite over him and it all comes back. I’m sure the pregnancy hormones don’t help either. What does he mean by ‘someone who thinks the sun rises and sets with you’ and signing it ‘Heart & Soul’ that’s just cruel. It takes me a little bit, but I pull myself back together and finish out my workday.
That night I take a longer than usual jog with Barry at my side while my mind tries to process everything. It was thoughtful that he sent me the check and the pictures, but I could have done without the letter. That’s the part that hurts and has me feeling as raw as undercooked meat. I’m wishing he’d never included that. All I can think of now are the moments I shared with him and how warm his skin felt against mine, how demanding he was when he was aroused, the spicy scent of his cologne, and how fantastic he was sexually.
Then I think about the baby and wonder how he’s going to react to this news. I’m scared to find him and tell him. I hate feeling scared. It’s an emotion too close to helpless for me. I go home angry and frustrated and sadly, wishing he were here.