Like…where-the-fuck-did-all-these-tears-come-from crying.
I have no idea how long this goes on, but by the time I feel like I can breathe, we’re back inside the house on the sofa in the den. A box of tissues is shoved in my hand, a cold compress is put on my forehead, and a chocolate chip cookie appears out of nowhere.
But it was probably Loren’s doing.
I try to focus and let out a shuddery breath. “Holy crap,” I whisper. “I…I don’t even know what to say. That was…”
“That was held in for too long,” Vanessa gently assures me, petting my arm. “Clearly it was time for you to let it out because you know this is a safe space.”
Honestly, I’m a little embarrassed by my outburst and would like to just forget about it, but I’m not delusional. My girls aren’t going to allow that to happen.
“Liv, why do you think your parents don’t love you?” Roxie carefully asks. “They’ve always been distant; we all know that. But sometimes people are just like that. Has something happened?”
“They just…I know they’re disappointed that I didn’t follow in their footsteps. They never congratulate me on my achievements. I’ve made the New York Times and Wall Street Journal best-seller lists multiple times. My books have been turned into movies. Those are monumental achievements, right? And when I share that with them, they barely acknowledge it. Just once I’d like for them to say they’re proud of me—even if they don’t really mean it, it would go a long way in making me feel less like a failure.”
Loren sits on the coffee table so she can fully face me. She’s looking fierce, and I instantly brace myself for whatever she’s about to say.
“Here’s the thing, Liv, you aren’t a failure,” she states. “Do you hear me? You are not a failure. You’re a fucking best-selling author! You’ve written ten books! People all over the world know your name! Can they say that? No! You have relationships with your readers; they message you, comment on your social media posts, stand in line to see you! And you know what? You respond to so many of those comments, and you talk to every single person who comes to see you for a signing, and you make them feel like they’re a friend. Your parents can’t say that.”
“You don’t know…”
“Pfft, please. Yes, I can,” she argues. “Remember when I broke my ankle freshman year of college? I went to your parents for that. They’d known me for like…eight years by that point. Neither of them smiled or acted like I’d been in their home or was best friends with their daughter. It was like going to strangers. A year later when I got hurt playing volleyball and thought I had broken my finger, I went to a different doctor. No offense, I just didn’t feel comfortable with them.” She rests her hand on my knee. “You’re not the problem, Liv. They are.”
I let out another shaky breath before saying, “But they’re still my parents. They’re the only example I have. What if this thing with Ash keeps going and…and…I’m not enough because I don’t know how to be enough?”
“Oh, sweetie,” Vanessa says while still petting my arm. “You’re going to be enough because you are enough. Don’t you get it? With the right person, you find a side of yourself that maybe you didn’t know you had. We’ve watched the two of you for two weeks, and…”
She pauses and looks at Loren and Roxie as if waiting for their approval for her to go on.
“Liv, we’ve known you for such a long time, and…we’ve never seen you like this. With Ash, you were relaxed and always smiling and so much like the girl we all remember from before…well…before…”
“You can say his name, Van,” I tell her. “It’s okay.”
“Well, before Matt,” she finishes. “You became a different person after that, and these last few weeks have been like hanging out with an old friend we haven’t seen in almost a dozen years. We’ve missed that version of you.”
“Not that we don’t love every version of you,” Roxie clarifies. “But the old Livi is the version we love the most. No offense.”
“None taken,” I whisper. “I never even thought about how my relationship with my parents was affecting my relationships with men. Like…I already know I was overly cautious because of Matt, but this whole thing with my folks just sort of hit me like a tidal wave out of nowhere. Crazy, right?”
Vanessa finally stops petting my arm to reply. “That’s because you’ve got all these feelings for Ash that are probably overwhelming too. You could probably try talking to your parents, but I don’t see you getting the response you want.”
“Because sometimes parents truly suck,” Loren murmurs. “Look at my dad! I thought I had the perfect parents and he’s out screwing around! He didn’t care what this would do to our family. He was simply thinking with his dick. And now look where we are? My wedding is going to be ruined because he couldn’t keep it in his pants!”
“Lo,” Roxie quietly says. “Sometimes people…”
“Are the worst,” Loren finishes. “Sometimes parents really let you down.” She looks at me. “You have this amazing life! I think you move around so much because then you’re in control and you can keep people at a distance. You’re fine with us because we’re in your comfort zone. Ash is going to take you out of that, but not a lot. For whatever reason, the two of you connected on a level that sort of skipped that awkward phase. Take the win, Olivia. Take the win and know how freaking lucky you are. Your parents will never change because in their minds, you’re in the wrong for not becoming a doctor.” She shrugs again. “You did something better. Something that kept you true to yourself, and you should be proud of that.”
Logically, I know she’s right.
I have struggled for most of my life with distant parents. They were always more wrapped up in their careers and their patients and had very little time for their own children. But do we every outgrow the need to hear our parents say they’re proud of us? I mean…it’s four little words. How hard can it be to just say them?
Apparently, the answer is very.
“I think Ash can love you exactly the way you need,” Roxie says thoughtfully. “He seems like he’s the guy who can love you more than you can even imagine. I know it doesn’t take away the damage shitty parenting has given you, but I think it could heal you in so many ways if you give him the chance.”
“I think you’re right,” I quietly agree, as I think of all the ways he cared for me even before he knew my name. How he sought me out when he saw me crying, when it would have been easier—and more peaceful—for him to walk away. Or the night I couldn’t sleep because of Roxie and the dogs, and he was willing to give up his bed so that I could have some peace and quiet. The man just gives and gives and gives, but…
I know that it’s not all one-sided.
