Zed, p.28
Zed, page 28
“I have the same feeling.” She still hadn’t sat down, but she was staring at the chair on the opposite side of the table from me. I motioned to it.
“You may as well sit down. Let me at least buy you a coffee and a slice of pie.”
She hesitated some more.
“Vivi, it’s just pie. I’m not about to perform a ritual sacrifice. Sit down, please?"
She sat and a waitress immediately bought us a couple of menus. As I opened mine, an envelope fell out. It was addressed to me. What the fuck?
I looked across at Vivi. She was holding an identical envelope, except it had her name on it.
I opened mine and pulled out a typed letter. A quick scan to the end told me it was from Xavier.
Hey, Z—
Sorry to hijack you, but I figured it was basically the only way to get both of you here, because… you. And… her.
Okay, so first things first, I wanted to say thank you for everything you’ve done for me. It’s cliché as hell, and I’d really hoped I wasn’t that guy. That cheesy guy who says he doesn’t know where he’d be if it weren’t for you. Turns out I kind of am that dude, so consider me wrapped in mozzarella, dipped in breadcrumbs, deep fried, and served on a stick at the county fair. Cheesy AF.
I don’t know if I’ll ever really understand your “Mr. straight down the line, uptight as fuck, while simultaneously not bowing to social norms” shtick, but I know it saved me from myself, so I don’t really need to know much more. Seriously, weird as you are, thanks for being you, and stopping me from being the worst version of me.
That said, I wouldn’t be who I am if I didn’t want more. I was born expecting more, and I’ll probably die that way. So there is more. Remember the whole Pixie incident? How could you forget, it was only a few weeks ago. You wanted to know why I needed the money, right? Well I was working on a plan. And like all good hood, con, or cop movies where they’re just about to get out of the game but take one last job that ends up being their undoing, when the whole thing went down with Pixie, I was one step away from pulling it off.
I got there in the end, and as of last week, I have emancipated myself from my father, who you already know emancipated me from my mother—for want of a better word or phrase to describe a woman who accepts money to stay out of her only son’s life—many years ago. Anyway, that’s by-the-by. The fact is that I find myself an almost voluntary orphan, which I don’t much like the idea of. Well, the being free of Xander Cross part I’m good with, obviously. Having nobody to call my own, not so much.
I can hear the wheels turning in your mind. I’m almost eighteen, and therefore about to age out of all parental responsibility anyway, so why the hell would I bother to go through the costly experience of emancipating myself a few months before I could simply walk away without a backward glance, risking life and limb and almost getting myself killed in the process? I’ll give you two guesses, but if I know you, and weirdly I think I really do, then I figure you’ll only need one of the two guesses.
The answer is the very same thing that has motivated my kind since time immemorial. See, I told you you’d only need one guess. You got it in one—it was the greens. My maternal grandfather left me a trust to be administered by my parents as trustees until I reach the ripe old age of twenty-fucking-five. Ain’t nobody got time for that, especially with my imperial asshat of a father and his God complex at the helm.
So I was faced with two very unappealing choices. I could leave with my freedom and dignity intact, but without a penny to my name—no college, no roof over my head, no job, no nothing. Or I could stick around, dying a slow and painful death, and/or drinking and drugging myself into a speedier one, waiting for my inheritance to come under my control. I can’t predict the future, but I saw that scenario ending very badly.
I’d been weighing up all the options and coming out fucked up the ass no matter which way I turned, which was how I engineered this plan. No parent, no trustee, right? Right. I’m in loco parentis of myself. So I’m free, and rich. Yay me!
But remember at the beginning of this when I said I want—no, I expect more? Well I do. I want you and Corporate Barbie, to be exact. Yes, I do know about your cute little nickname for her, and far more besides—there are some things a person can never unsee. To be clear, this is nothing weird. I just kind of want to (in)formalize the fact that I’m not a loser with nobody in his corner. Really it’s kind of like godparents. But nothing to do with God. Or parents. I’m afraid that at this point in my life, I have no belief in either.
But that’s not all. There’s more, more. I already come from a home so broken there’s no amount of superglue that can stick those shit-smeared pieces together, so I don’t want my fake adult non-parent non-godparents to be at war. I want a real fake non-family, goddamn it. I think I deserve it. So basically, dinner’s on me. Sit there and talk out your crap with CB and make it fucking work.
Seriously, everybody can see it but the two of you. You’re perfect for each other and crazy about each other. It’s the no-brainer to end all no-brainers. Actually, now I’m wondering if I’ve made the right choice of non-parents. If I can choose anyone, maybe I should go for people with more emotional intelligence than the two of you?
I mean, I know I’m not genetically related to you, so I’m okay from that perspective, but they do say that kids learn predominantly by example from their nearest and dearest—which, with Xander Cross as an ex-father, would explain why I’m such a card-carrying asshole. I really didn’t stand a fucking chance. But then there are the two of you—prime examples of what happens when you let yourself get in the way.
So, eat and sort out your shit.
From your ever-loving non-legally binding richer than god non-dependent dependent. Xav.
Wow. He really was a piece of fucking work. If I wasn’t so ready to take him the fuck out, I’d be laughing. I still was kind of laughing, all the while plotting ways I could get my revenge. It was so absurd that it was actually kind of hilarious.
When I looked up and met Vivi’s eyes, I could see she was running the same gamut of emotions, but like me was leaning more toward bemused than angry. I presumed her letter had similar content to mine.
I quirked an eyebrow in her direction, asking but not wanting to articulate the question.
“He’s a good kid.” She spoke slowly, measuring every word.
“He’s an asshole.”
“But he has redeemable characteristics, and you like him, in spite of yourself.”
“Don’t you mean in spite of himself?”
“I meant exactly what I said.” Of course she did. Ever the lawyer, she chose her words carefully. “Okay, so are you prepared to…?” She motioned between the two of us.
“What? Am I going to say how high when some ridiculously rich and arrogant kid says jump? This whole thing is weird as fuck. Don’t you feel like at any moment, someone’s going to pop up and tell us we’re on an episode of What Would You Do? I don’t live my life according to the plan set out by someone who thinks they know how I’m feeling better than I do. Especially when that someone is barely out of diapers.”
She schooled her features into a neutral expression and said nothing, letting me continue.
“Although, as much as I hate to admit it, and I probably never would have had it not been for Xavier’s ridiculous scheme, I need to tell you that I miss the crap out of you. I’ve been miserable to the point where Kota is about to resign if something doesn’t change.”
“Exactly. We’ll tell Xavier no. He doesn’t get to jerk us around on a string like Geppetto. We’re adults, and perfectly capable of making our own decisions. We do—” She looked down at her hands, no doubt not trusting herself to meet my eyes. I waited for her brain to catch up with her mouth.
“Wait. So what are you saying?”
And the penny drops.
“I’m saying that I want you in my life, if you’ll have me, and I was stupid to try to pretend otherwise. The fact is I lied to you when I told you your feelings for me weren’t reciprocated. They absolutely were, and very much still are. Since the moment I met you—as soon as I moved past the immense irritation I felt at your presence—I’ve wanted to do or say something that would get us to this point, but I felt like I owed it to you not to go there. For the record, I still feel that. I know you deserve better, and there is better out there for you, but because I’m a selfish asshole, that thought doesn’t make me want you any less. I—”
“Nope.” She was deadly serious, shaking her head slowly.
“Nope? Nope what? After I finally spilled my guts to you, you’re going to say you’re not interested? Are you serious right now?” Wow. I felt like such a fool.
“Huh? If you think that’s what’s going on here, maybe we should just go our separate ways now and save the inevitable drama down the track.” I was confused as hell.
Jesus! This was not what I had in mind when I’d laid my feelings out to her. We literally could not move forward in a linear fashion together. There was always some kind of crazy backtracking, zigzagging, or leapfrogging going on between the two of us. It was fucking exhausting.
“That’s not what I… I just… Jesus! Why is this so hard?” My raised voice attracted stares from our fellow diners, but I didn’t give a crap. All I cared about was Vivi, and what was going on between the two of us.
“Because life is hard. Life is messy, and tricky, and annoying. Especially me.”
Well, that was something we actually agreed on. I quirked my eyebrow and she continued.
“But hopefully in the end, the hard, messy, tricky, and annoying parts are outweighed by the amazing, fun, loving, beautiful parts. My point was that I’m not moving forward with you because Xavier held us to ransom. Nor do I believe that I deserve better than you, or that there’s anyone better for me out there. You’re everything I could ever need or want you to be and more, and not only do I deserve you, but you also deserve me. That’s what I was saying nope to before.”
Wow. Okay.
Pretty much every moment I spent with her reminded me why my plan after coming out of jail had been not to have to do any of this. Ever. I truly sucked at it. Big-time. Though Vivi seemed to think differently about me.
“I’m moving forward with you because everything you think is so wrong about you is so right. Because you’re everything I thought I’d never wanted, hadn’t ever been looking for, but actually always needed.”
Oh.
“Because I’m stupid in love with you and always will be, and I don’t want to spend another moment not shouting that fact from the rooftops.”
Oh.
“Marry me?” I couldn’t believe the words I had just uttered.
“Hahaha! So funny, Zed. Not. Your sense of humor is always a surprise, because it’s so out of the blue. You kind of killed the romantic vibe, though. That’s not the kind of thing you should joke about.”
What the fuck? I leveled her with my most serious stare.
“You know me well enough to know I’m not the kind of guy to joke about something like that. Not even close. In fact, I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. Marry me.” Now it was a statement, not a question.
Sadly, it was a poorly timed statement, coming as it did just after Vivi had taken a large gulp of coffee. Before I knew it, I was wearing the entire mouthful as it dripped down my face and onto my shirt. Not quite the response I had been hoping for.
“Zed… you can’t… just… I mean… I—”
I wasn’t a doctor, but if I was a betting man, I’d put money on the fact that Vivi was choking.
As the thought registered in my mind, her face turned an unseemly shade of deep purple, her eyes started to bug out, and she began gesturing toward her back. I jerked out of my seat, raced to her side of the table, and slapped her firmly between the shoulder blades. Cue more spluttering and eye-watering, but also breathing, which was always a good thing.
I took my seat opposite her again and waited a few moments while she continued to recover herself. It wasn’t a pretty scene. Her face was now burgundy, her eyes leaky, with tear tracks down her face. There was coffee everywhere. The diners around us were trying—and failing—not to stare.
Jesus.
“Uhh… so that’s not how I saw that going.” Proposing had been kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing, but I’d had enough time to imagine there would be tears of joy, and kisses. Instead we were covered in coffee, Vivi had half choked to death, and she looked… pissed?
“You can’t just propose to someone! I mean….”
Yep, she was pissed all right. And she clearly had no qualms about the whole diner knowing it.
“Why not?” I couldn’t think of a single valid reason.
“Well, for one thing, we hardly know each other.”
“We know each other plenty. I know you well enough to know that I love you, and I want to be with you, and that you feel the same way about me. What else do we need to know?”
As we spoke, we dabbed at ourselves and the table with napkins, attempting to clean up the coffee detritus. Not the most romantic of scenes.
“You can’t propose. You haven’t even told me you love me. Oh… wait. Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
“You’re serious.”
As cancer.
“As I’ve ever been, and as I’ll ever be. I read Xavier’s letter, and all I could think was that family isn’t about the blood that flows through your veins. Nobody knows that better than he and I. That’s the least of it, in fact. It’s about what’s in your heart, and more to the point, who is in your heart. You’re in mine. I love you, and I want you there forever, so marry me, please?”
“Well… huh….”
I was sure I would see the funny side of this situation one day. But as I watched and waited, breath suspended in time while a myriad of emotions played across Vivi’s face, I felt as though I had died a thousand deaths, every single one of which involving my heart being pounded into hamburger.
Vivi hesitated some more before sliding out of her seat. She was leaving without even dignifying my question with a response. Except no answer was an answer in itself.
Okay then.
I looked up to see her standing right in front of me. She said nothing, waiting for me to meet her eyes.
“This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever said or done, and I will never forgive you.”
Huh?
She registered the confusion on my face and smirked.
“Yes, Zed. I’m saying yes. It’s impulsive and reckless, and so out of character for both of us that it could very well end up blowing up in our faces, but that’s a risk I’m prepared to take. Let’s give it a shot.”
Now it was my turn to be dumbfounded.
“You had me at yes.” The truth was she’d had me at “Octavia Douglas.”
She looped her arms around my neck and I pulled her into me, kissing her like I may never get another chance, even though I knew that wasn’t the case. When we came up for air, we were met with rapturous applause by the diners around us, much to my deep embarrassment. Vivi seemed to share none of my coyness; she curtsied to her audience, playing up to the attention, a huge goofy grin plastered all over her face before turning to me and whispering.
“Come on, Romeo. Let’s go find the little punk and tell him our good news.”
God, I love her.
She didn’t need to tell me twice. I took her by the hand and headed out into the crisp evening air, ready to start the rest of my life.
Epilogue
Vivi
Five years later
I tiptoed around the room, unable to believe that in a few short months, the room space that had been my study for the previous five years would convert to become my practice rooms when I began to see clients of my own as a psychologist.
Obviously things would need to shift around a little, and I’d have to change the décor some. Not that I didn’t love it, but as therapists, we were advised that it was best to keep our rooms as a neutral space, free of personal artifacts and photos. Not only could they prove to be an unwanted—and sometimes unhealthy—distraction for our clients, but they also added to the feeling that the client was entering our territory rather than a neutral and, more importantly, safe space.
There was the photo of Dexter taking his first step, looking up at the camera with pride and achievement twinkling in his bright eyes—so much like his father it was uncanny. He was the absolute light of my world, and I loved him with a purity and ferocity that I never thought possible, even after falling for Zed as hard as I had.
Then there was the frame displaying the envelope containing the letter Xavier wrote to me all those years ago, and right next to it, the photo of our wedding day. The highlights of my life summed up in three small frames.
They may have only encapsulated the last five years of my life—no, our lives, but it really did seem like a lifetime. So much had happened—we’d grown and changed immeasurably in that time, and in the weirdest of ways, we had Xavier to thank for that. The letters he wrote had set us all, himself included, on a path that none of us could have foreseen or even dared to dream of before that day.
Unfortunately, the frames would all need to go. It was a shame, as they represented everything that was good about my life and all of my loves in one spot. But my work wasn’t about me, it was about my clients, and most of them didn’t need to see images of my personal life while they worked through the issues in theirs.
Zed’s stunning pen sketches of tableaus and landmarks of the city could stay. They were his wedding present to me, but nobody except the two of us knew their significance. I smiled to myself as I touched the frames. So many memories.
I had always thought I’d wanted to be a DA to bring down the “bad guys,” but had bailed on that idea in favor of corporate drudgery due to the pressure to do so from my father. After meeting both Xavier and Zed, I was forced to reconsider that viewpoint. For sure my father was a big influence in my life—some would say too big—but as strong-willed and vocally opinionated as he was, so was I. The reality was that if being a DA had been my true calling and what I’d really wanted in my heart of hearts from the get-go, I wouldn’t have let wild horses or Daddy tell me any different.
