I didn’t sleep much last night, and Sebastian offered to stay with me as I was having some serious anxiety about this interview. I knew the questions would be more personal, more probing, looking for all of the juicy, dirty, salacious details, and thus would be harder to answer. The alarm went off early,pulling me from replaying the fun little game of‘What Possible Questions and Answers in My Mind’. I had to take a deep breath before I felt like I could get up and hop in the shower quickly, just to help myself feel fresh, a little more awake. As I stood under the shower, the heat of the water warmed something inside of me that was begging to die as the nightmares of what my family brought with them assaulted me over the last few days. The drama, the blame, guilt tripping, shaming. I was hoping the water would wash my nerves away. I heard a knock at my door, and Sebastian called out, “I left an outfit for you on your bed. After the interview, can I take you out for a breakfast date?”
I stood there, the cooling water rushing over me. This could go one way or the other. Either I came out on top, armor intact, or they crushed me again. And…if I got clobbered? I knew I’d be down for a long while. I had to take a steadying breath before cracking the shower door and shouting back, “Sure. I could eat, but I'm not too sure about after the interview. Depends on how it goes.”
There was silence for a moment, only the sound of the cold water splashing onto me and the shower could be heard.
“No problem. I have coffee ready, and everything set up for the call in the living room.” His voice calmed something ever so slightly in my chest. I gently closed the shower door, hurrying up, so I could try to get myself as together as possible. I got out of the shower and rushed through my morning routine, throwing on the ‘no make-up, make-up’ to give me that ‘fresh and natural’ look. I saw a really pretty white off-the-shoulder top with eyelet material over the top. It was beautiful. I put that on, with my black, ripped jeggings. I went into the kitchen, checking the clock, and seeing I only had about fifteen minutes before we had to be on time for the interview. Rushing back to my bathroom,I grabbed some mouse, hair spray, and a hand towel. I rushed back to the kitchen, taking a sip of coffee before styling my hair in the scrunched style that was oh so popular in the early two-thousands. I grabbed my cup and headed to the couch where Sebastian was sitting, looking like he belonged there. His legs were stretched out, and one arm was casually tossed over the back. He looked so good in his cream-colored Henley and ripped dark jeans, his long blonde hair tied up in a bun. He was talking with the producers before the interview. As I set my coffee cup down and smoothed my shirt, I caught the tail end of what the producer was saying.
“They insisted. They claim to have proof that everything she’s claiming in her book is a lie.” I turned to look at the screen, then Sebastian, a confused and questioning look on my face, unable to say anything. Sebastian had the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers before he looked up and saw me. I couldn’t help the pain that flashed across my face.
I was going to have to face them. He looked stricken, then pissed as he turned his attention back toward the screen. He seemed reinvigorated.
“So, Jack, you’re telling me ten minutes before we golivethather fu- familyis on with your guy?! And now it’s changed from a calm interview to what? A ‘confrontation’? All because they claimed to have ‘real proof’?” He glared at the screen while I froze at his words. Memories of their treatment danced through my mind as I shut down.
My family was going to be on this with me. I had this sinking feeling in my stomach as I sank onto the couch next to him. He turned to look at me, I could feel his gaze on me, but I wasn’t able to focus on anything. I wasn’t ready. I hadn’t prepared to confront them. To confront her! Them! Was this a setup from the very beginning?
Sebastian, noticing my state, lowered the computer's lid so it wasn’t showing our faces, giving me some privacy as he grabbed my hand.
“I’ll be right back,” he said toward the computer, before he turned to sit on the coffee table in front of me, “I’m calling Alex. We’ll take care of this. You don’t have to do this.” He cupped my face, running his thumb so soothingly over my cheek before he stood up and walked to the corner of the room, talking quietly into his phone, while the producer tried to introduce himself to me, explaining my family had heard about the upcoming interview. He said that they insisted I knew about the alleged affair and that I was being dramatic to make some fast money because I didn’t have much going for myself. I felt my jaw physically fall on the floor. Sebastian came back to where he left me sitting on the couch after his phone call and got a refill for his coffee cup.
Before I could ask what the fuck was going on, we heard someone shouting out about going live and the countdown. Sebastian sat right next to me on the couch, zero space between us, and lifted the computer lid back up so we were ready to go. The host of the show popped up on our screen with all of the people I’d hoped to never see in my life again sitting on furniture right on the screen.
“And over Zoom, we have Sebastian Stone, Editor and CEO of ReadItAndWeep Publishing, with Stormi Buchcannan, a famous ‘self-help’ author, more commonly known as Artemis Jones, her pen name. Welcome!” He smiled, looking like a viper, like he was planning on burying me alive. He looked like he wanted to fuck my sister so he was willing to believe whatever nutty squirrel shit came out of her mouth, “Tell us, Stormi, that’s a very unique name. Why did you use a pen name when you started writing? Why not come right out and use your name?”
I took a deep breath, letting all the rage I’d had for years, channel into the politest ‘fuck you’ conversation I could have, “I used a pen name because, as a child, I was always told not to ruin the family name, to not embarrass or outshine Story in any way. I figured the romance novels I started writing in high school weren’t very appropriate for a lady to be writing, so I came up with the pen name. It’s been the same since I started my career at fifteen.” I smiled at the end of my answer.
The host looked somewhere between shocked and rattled as his head swiveled from the screen and my family, waiting for someone to say something. When no one did, he started his probing again.
“So you’re saying you didn’t want to disgrace your family name, which is why you opted to use a pen name, yet you still aired all kinds of dirty laundry very publicly. What do you say to that?” Story looked like a cat watching a mouse, thinking it was caught and couldn’t fight back. I kept my face neutral, trying not to completely dissociate from the moment.
“I did what I could not to embarrass them. I used a pen name,” I counted out on my fingers. “I used fake names for the people in my book, and I also never disclosed locations or anything other discerning information that could draw conclusions unless you read into it. My sister and mother are the ones who outed themselves, claiming to be the family of the author. The same family who made similar actions in the book that I had to work to overcome.” Another smile, like nothing was wrong, and I was happy. Sebastian grabbed my hand, showing his silent support. Letting me know he was there if I needed him, but he was there to support me however he could.
My heart fluttered momentarily, but I masked it just as quickly. Not on camera. Not with them watching. They don’t get to see what makes me happy, what puts me at peace.
The host looked momentarily thrown off before looking annoyed that I’d been able to be so polite this whole time.
“Your family here claims to have proof that what you wrote in your books was false. Your mother said it’s a complete and utter fabrication from the delusions of a child who always had to try to be the center of attention. So I ask, what proof do you have that anything you wrote was indeed fact? They have printouts of screenshots and emails between them and what they claim is your email.” He seemed so proud, so high and mighty. Taking another deep breath, I looked right into the camera, and I said my peace with a confidence I didn’t fully believe in myself, but it looked like I was coming across as very assured of myself.
“Because I still have my old phone, with all of the voicemailsstillon it. I have saved them in various other places, just in case I ever lost that old phone. I just so happen to have that phone all charged up, and I could play some of the voicemails for you if you don’t believe me.”
Smile gently. I had to keep reminding myself.
It was the bestfuck youthere ever was. A calm, gentle, demurefuck you, was ten times more effective than one that was screaming it in your face. I took joy as I saw my family visibly pale, the host looking more uncertain about their stance, by the second. Story scoffed, looking like she didn’t believe a word I said, and I wasn’t sure if this was confidence or stupidity.
“Play them if you really have them, you little liar! You’re just trying to be the center of attention again, and not for good reasons. As always!” Story spat, holding Jason’s hand firmly in her lap like he’d jump up and run if she let go. He looked guilty, like he didn’t want to be there. Dad had the same look on his face, like even getting his eyebrows waxed was morefun than sitting there. He kept his eyes down, not looking at or acknowledging my sister or mother. I was going to play the messages from my dad, showing he truly did want to be in my life, and I’d play the ones that would ruin the others. Everyone could burn, but I’d spare my dad.
This was his final chance, on my terms.
“Alright. Which do you want first, Story? Yours? Or Mom’s?” They both looked like startled dogs as they heard Story’s voice come out from my old phone, across the microphone, and played over the studio’s speakers. I watched as their faces continued to pale as they played.
‘I’m glad he’s not with you! Didn’t you think it was weird when you never met his parents? He told them about me, though. Thanks for finally doing something right, for once in your pathetic life, you, worthless piece of”,I ended the voicemail before I could get in trouble with the feds for swearing on live TV. Then I pressed my mom’s voicemail. Her most vicious one she ever left. It was dripping with shame, guilt-tripping, bullying, anything but what a loving mother should be saying to her daughter.
‘Answer your phone, you pathetic little worm! Stop being so dramatic! So, your sister’s been sleeping with your boyfriend. I don’t understand why you’re acting like the world’s falling apart. Story and Jason are finally able to be truly happy now. And they’re family. We support family, so you’re going to have to forgive them and move on.’There was some shuffling, and then you heard Mom talking to someone,‘She should consider herself lucky to be in this family. If I’d had my way, I’d have gotten rid of her. I only ever wanted one baby anyway. Your stupid father said we couldn’t, that he loved you both,’she said mockingly, ‘He’s just as pathetic as she is. Maybe she’ll callus when she decides to get over herself.’ As her voice began to laugh, the voicemail cut off.
Both of them, visibly trembling, sat there red in the face. I had yet to play Jason’s voicemail, and that was probably going to be the biggest blow to them all. I could see the devil on my shoulder shaking her pitchfork in the air while cheering for the look of utter devastation on Story’s face when I played that one next. It was going to be beautiful.
“This is a voicemail from Jason. He left it at this number only three weeks ago.” I said as I watched him, his face going pale. I glanced at Sebastian through the screen, and I could see pride brimming from him. He smiled at me, squeezing my hand a little tighter. Always my supporter, always my best friend.
Hopefully, this date was a real date after this. Because, watching them fall, their narrative being destroyed, I think I was finally ready.
