Imperfectly Real (A Series of Imperfections) (18 page)

She looked at me tentatively. “So …?”

“Liz”—I grabbed her hands into mine and squeezed—”I don’t know what this is, but I know that you’re all I ever think about.”

“You said this wasn’t about us.”

“It isn’t, let me finish. It kills me to think that he gets the best parts of you. You deserve better than him.”

She pulled her hands from mine and shook her head. “Stop. Mason is a good man.”

“Is he, Liz?” I questioned as I stood from the couch. “Because I think deep down you know what type of man he is, or you would never have come to New York in the first place.”

The tears started to fall freely from her cheeks. It was apparent that she knew exactly what I was talking about. “He is.”

“I think you already have questions about him, Half-Pint, and I came here to tell you that your suspicions are right.”

She shook her head again before throwing her face into her hands. “No,” she choked. “Mason is good.”

I fell to my knees on the floor in front of her and, taking her blotchy face into my hands, I wiped the tears off her cheeks. “No, Liz. Mason is doing
exactly
what you think he’s doing. He doesn’t deserve you. You don’t deserve him. You deserve more than this unhappy life.”

A sob escaped from her mouth before she threw herself into my arms again. We sat there on the floor of her stuffy den for what seemed like hours before she finally was able to gain some control. The sobs had just died down when I decided to speak my mind again.

“You know, Half-Pint, if I could go back in time and talk to thirteen-year-old you, sitting alone on your parents’ couch, I would. I would promise her that I’d come back. I’d promise her the world. I’d tell her to wait for me, and I’d tell that smug eighteen-year-old version of myself that you were the one. Maybe it would have saved us both a bunch of heartache.” I stroked her hair before kissing her on the forehead and pulling her closer to me.

She looked up at me, a sense of longing in her beautiful eyes. “I know now that I would wait a million lifetimes for you, and I would do
anything
to convince you to be mine! I had you first, and I didn’t even know it. I should have kept you, I know that now. I love you, Half-Pint. I think I always did.”

Without so much as another word, her lips crashed onto mine. I felt the wetness from her cheeks spread to mine and I wanted nothing more than to take her hurt away. Elizabeth Sloan deserved the world and everything she wanted from it and I wanted to be the one to give it to her.

Even if it killed me.

Sex.

It was the only thing she felt she was good at. It was the best way she knew how to communicate her feelings … well, besides crying. Emma would say, “That’s totally fucked up.” And it was. She knew that she should be better than this. But she wasn’t, and for some reason it felt so good for her to live life dangerously and selfishly. To live life for herself again.

I stood to pull my pants up just as Elizabeth threw a blanket over her naked body. “I should go,” I muttered half-heartedly. I knew what I
should
do, but what I wanted to do was something completely different. It was a constant battle between my head and my heart … and my head was losing.

“No,” she pleaded still breathless from our unexpected romp. “Stay?”

I looked down at her pleading eyes, and that was all it took—I didn’t need to be asked twice. I hunkered down next to her, wrapping my arms around her tiny waist. She immediately relaxed and closed her eyes, a soft smile on her lips. I knew my days with her were probably numbered and I still didn’t have any more clarity than I had in the beginning. Sensing an opportunity I seized the moment.

“If you could do anything you wanted, without any repercussions, what would you do?” I whispered into her ear.

“You mean between you and I?” she asked rolling to face me.

I shook my head. Of course she would think I wanted to know about us, but I didn’t—I wanted to know about her. “No. In life. What do you want from life, Liz?”

She looked at me for a moment as if she was pondering her answer. “No one’s ever asked me that before.”

In that moment, my heart broke for her. It was beyond sad that no one had ever cared enough to ask her what she wanted for her future. “Seriously?” I asked dumbfounded.

“Yeah. I was always just told what was expected of me and I did it.” She sighed. “I never questioned it. It was what it was, and that was that.” She fell silent and I wondered if she even knew what she wanted.

After a few minutes of silent cuddles I decided to broach the subject again. “So what
do
you want, Liz?”

Without thinking she blurted out her answer. “I wanna go to art school.”

I smiled having finally gotten an honest answer. “I didn’t know you were an artist,” I mused, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“Nobody does.” As if on a mission, she sat up and threw on my t-shirt that was still lying on the floor. It swallowed up her petite frame as she exited the room. I propped myself up on my elbow and she soon came back with a leather portfolio. Reaching in, she pulled out a small piece of paper. She admired it for a few moments before finally passing it over to me. I looked down at a pencil sketch of a memory I had completely forgotten about …

Walking towards the boat I noticed her. She was crying all by herself at the edge of the dock.

“C’mon, Tyler!” Emma cried as she jumped in the boat with Shane.

As much as I was dying to go tubing with my friends, part of me wanted to make sure that she was okay. Emma was going to be pissed, but she was just going to have to wait. Someone had to look out for Half-Pint.

“Yeah”—I started walking down the dock—”just give me a minute, all right.” I called over to them as I neared the end where she was perched. I saw Emma throw her hands in the air as Shane tried to calm her down. Emma was such a hot-head—especially when it came to her sister. She didn’t understand why I felt the need to look out for Elizabeth, but I didn’t really care. I just wanted to make sure she was all right.

I sat down next to her and dipped my feet into the water before bumping her with my shoulder. “What’s the matter, Half-Pint?” And with that, the pre-teen floodgates opened. She launched into a fit of uncontrollable sobbing, and I thought for sure that someone had died. I put my arm around her tiny shoulders and pulled her closer to me. I looked over at Emma and Shane waiting in the boat. Emma tapped her wrist like she would a watch and I motioned for them to give me just a minute more. Elizabeth needed someone—anyone—to listen to her.

The tears subsided quickly and between her throaty sobs she was finally able to speak. “Bobby Tucker broke up with me,” she sniffed.

I pinched her arm, hoping to get her to smile. “You’re too young to be upset over some dumb ‘boy’,” I laughed. She was only ten.

She looked up at me, sullenly. “Yeah, but Mom says I need to find a good guy to take care of me.”

“Well, look no further kiddo. I’ll watch out for you.” I was genuine in my words, but I hoped that she didn’t misunderstand them. I didn’t want to blur the lines, considering her monster-sized puppy dog adoration for me.

“You promise?” she smiled half-heartedly.

“I promise.”

I sat gazing at the drawing of her and I sitting on that dock—my arm wrapped tightly around her as she forced a smile. I wondered if she’d drawn it from memory, or if someone had happened to snap a picture in that moment. She had nailed it, and it had taken me back to that moment … and that promise.

My thoughts were broken by her small voice. “You broke your promise, Tyler. You let me get lost.”

I shook my head in an attempt to clear out the memory. I’d had no idea that she had clung to my words for so long. “Liz …”

“It’s pathetic, I know.” Her eyes fell to her lap. “You were just being nice, but your leaving destroyed me more than you will ever know. I kept searching for someone to care about me like you did, but obviously I didn’t find anyone.” She nervously picked at her fingernails before looking back up at me. She took a deep breath and continued. “AI know you didn’t love me back then, Tyler, but you were the only person that cared if I was happy or sad. I jumped from guy to guy just hoping that they might too … but I never found it. “

I took her face in my hands. I’d been unaware of what I’d been doing and somehow I had misled her. She’d built me up in such a way that it had ruined all men for her.

“I’m here now,” I offered, hopeful that that would be enough. It was true. I cared for her more now than I had ever imagined back then.

She sniffed. “But it’s too late.”

I shook my head in frustration. This was one of the few times that I knew, without a doubt, that Elizabeth and Emma were sisters. They sucked at making decisions, and I blamed Mrs. Sloan for that. She had spent years coaxing her daughters to do just what she wanted. It was no wonder that neither of them ever really knew what they wanted.

Elizabeth needed to think about herself—she deserved to be selfish for once. In order for her to see that, I needed to take myself out of the equation.

“Go to art school,” I blurted.

Confused, Elizabeth looked at me, her face thoughtful. “What?”

“If it’s what you want, go to art school.”

“It’s not that simple,” she argued.

“But it is, Liz. Life is truly that simple. If you want to do something, you do it. Quit worrying about what other people think.” I stood up and motioned for her to give me my shirt. Our time was up. I’d come to give her all the information in order for her to make a decision, so I wasn’t going to press the issue.

“What are you doing?” she asked franticly, pulling my t-shirt off. She shivered as the cotton left her skin.

“I should go stay the night with my mom and Talon …” I needed to separate myself from her. I was done prodding and trying to make her realize that I was what she needed. She needed to come to a decision on her own. If she wanted to continue being fuckin’ miserable, that was her own problem.

She clung to my shirt. “Mason’s gone. He won’t be home until Friday,” she offered, hoping I might change my mind and stay, but I’d already made my decision.

“No.” I reached out for my shirt. She passed it over while frowning. I felt conflicted leaving her, but I knew it was for the best. I needed to bow out gracefully. “You’ve got some serious shit to figure out, Liz. Don’t bother calling or texting unless you’re ready to make a decision. I’m not going to listen to anymore of your excuses until you’re ready to change something.”

I left her sitting there on the floor in a pile of blankets and regrets. I’d let myself get in too deep and I still didn’t know where I stood. I was fucked.

I drove the short distance to my childhood home and sighed when I saw the kitchen light on. I already knew what awaited me inside. Mom was getting her fill on midweek manhattans—Dad’s drink of choice and thus her drink of choice when wallowing in self-pity.

First thought: Fuck.

Second thought: Poor Talon.

I was an asshole for leaving him to grow up having to deal with her. He’d become more of a parent to her than she’d ever been to him. He’d had to assume more responsibility for her than I could ever imagine. After I left, he’d called me a few times, frantic with worry and looking for advice on how to help a drunk. I helped him as much as I could, but eventually the calls stopped coming. He slowly, but surely, figured it out on his own.

I sat in the car, debating whether I had enough steam to make it back to New York but I knew I didn’t. I was emotionally and physically exhausted, so I dragged my sorry, adulterated ass into the house.

I opened the door and was immediately was hit with the overwhelming aroma of bleach and booze—a.k.a. the perfume of Evelyn Johnston. Nothing says perfection quite like consuming copious amounts of alcohol while cleaning.

“Talon?” she called out from the kitchen.

I heard the ice clink in her glass—she was probably downing the rest of her drink before having to speak to her son. I shook my head and walked into the kitchen where she was perched at the breakfast bar, wrapped in her silk, leopard-print robe.