I had never had what most would deem a “healthy” relationship with my parents. I carried a lot of baggage as a result of how they lived their lives. I was an only child, which was probably a good thing. One of my earliest memories was of my parents having a screaming match over who misplaced the TV remote. I remembered crying when my mother would walk out of the house with a bag of stuff, saying she was never coming back. I would cling to her skirt, begging her to stay. She would simply disentangle me from her leg and without a word to me, she’d march to her car and drive off.
The first few times she did it had been emotionally devastating. But as I grew older and the pattern became firmly entrenched, I barely blinked when she would pack her suitcase. My dad would retreat to his office and close the door, pretending that nothing had happened. And when a few weeks later, Mom came back and she and dad entered the lovey-dovey reconciliation stage, they never acknowledged the impact their behavior had on their only kid.
I grew up not believing in permanence. Not believing in long-lasting love and companionship. Because my only role models were selfish asshats.
And they were crappy parents on top of being crappy spouses to each other. I learned that lesson very early. Yet despite that, they were all the family I had and as a result, I felt a tie to them was uncomfortable and at times downright painful.
Mom was the queen of passive-aggressive guilt trips. She was a master manipulator who knew exactly what angle to play to get exactly what she wanted. She had been playing my dad like a fiddle for long enough to become a master at psychological warfare.
And my dad, he could have been a decent guy if he weren’t so entangled with my mom’s crap. She brought out the worst in him and as a result, he became the worst himself. When he wasn’t ignoring me, he was belittling me, making me feel as if what I was doing wasn’t enough. Reminding me over and over that I was a reflection on them and that when I failed, they all failed.
It’s a wonder I was a functioning adult. Though my track record with romantic relationships pointed to deep-seated issues. When I wasn’t avoiding personal complications, I was choosing partners who were the absolute worst possible choice. Mac was a perfect example. He was lazy, lacking in motivation, and a cheater. And I had known all of those things when I asked him to move in with me. None of my friends could understand how their tough-as-nails buddy could allow herself to be taken in by such a jerk. For all my bravado, I was a broken mess.
“Getting your infusion of espresso?”
I was startled at the sound of the deep voice just behind me. I looked over my shoulder and instantly tensed. Robert Jenkins gave me a tentative smile. One that crinkled the edges of his eyes just a little. Enough to make him look ridiculously cute.
I turned my back to him because when I shunned, I shunned completely.
I heard him let out a long breath. “I guess we’re still playing the ‘pretend we don’t know each other game.’”
After my visit with my parents, I was edgy and temperamental. I turned back around, my eyes flashing, and Robert looked taken aback. “If a woman doesn’t want to talk to you, that’s her prerogative. My reason for being on this Earth isn’t to make men feel validated.” I spoke louder than I intended, and I noticed I was getting side-eye from the other customers.
Robert pressed his lips into a thin line. “And when did I ever make you feel that I only wanted you around to stroke my giant male ego? I just don’t understand why you can’t even say hi to me anymore. We used to enjoy spending time together.”
I felt my face flush hot. “Used to being the operative word,” I reminded him.
I went back to watching the barista, hoping my heated stare would get her to move faster. But she seemed to be taking her sweet time making the to-go orders. At this rate, I’d be lucky to get out of there by lunchtime.
I could feel his presence behind me. I could smell the rich scent of his aftershave that wasn’t overpowering but just right. I noticed how the other women waiting in line gave him long, lingering looks. Robert Jenkins was a catch in every sense of the word and most women would gnaw off their left arms for a chance to spend time with such a handsome, intelligent guy.
I wasn’t most women.
And I would not be swayed by a pretty face ever again.
Even if that pretty face was attached to a guy with brains and a good sense of humor. If he couldn’t open up, even a little bit, then I wasn’t interested. My trust had been shattered into a thousand pieces by Mac and I wasn’t looking to get taken for a fool again.