It took effort to shake off my stupor, but I knew I had to do something for me. I’d started working out. Getting my body in shape helped me heal, forming a sort of armor to hide my mental turmoil.
And Daniel changed. Not with the kids, or his colleagues—but with me. He’d never had an abundance of patience, but now he was incapable of showing me anything other than irritation or hostility. If I was sick, he felt responsible. If I was getting healthy and recovering, I was surviving without him. His erratic mood swings became truly terrifying outbursts. His temper made him into someone scary, someone I didn’t know.
He refused to seek counseling, though in moments of clarity he admitted to hating himself. He always hated me more, though. I knew it, felt it, and owned it until I somehow felt like I deserved it.
The first time he’d hit me, I’d been in shock. But I’d hoped it would serve as some sort of breakthrough. If hitting rock bottom—and I’d thought hitting me was hitting rock bottom—had to happen before we might be able to work our way back to each other, then maybe we’d find a way now. Instead, things got completely out of hand.
I drew a deep, calming breath. The fear was still sharp, even now. Too much of my life had been motivated by fear or pain…by my circumstances. I didn’t want to be defined by my circumstances.
It was time to move on, to face the past without recriminations or rationalizations, to live now. I didn’t want to doubt my self-worth any more. I didn’t want to settle or make mental adjustments to fill in for any real or projected inadequacies I might or might not have. I wanted to trust, to live, and I wanted someone to love me just as I was. I was worthy of love.
“Suitcase,” Shannon interrupted me, her voice sing-song.
I wiped the tears away. “Thanks.”
“That bad?”
“I’m good at boxing things up in my head, then ignoring them. It sucks when I open them.”
“How many boxes have Daniel’s name on them?” Her tone was cool.
“Eighty percent—give or take a bit.”
“This has been one hell of an overwhelming vacation, woman.” She spoke gently. “No thanks to me, I know.”
“Maybe you made things a bit more stressful than they needed to be. Maybe not. It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to take anything for granted anymore.”
“Then write, and paint, with feeling. Let yourself get lost in all of your amazing creativity for a while.” She continued, “You know, I still have both the paintings you gave me hanging in my office.”
“You’re too good to me.”
“Why? Because you’re talented and I say it?” She looked at the clock. “I think I’m more nervous than you are and it’s your life changing teleconference, not mine. You’ll like Frank, though, so don’t worry over it. Go make your call. You’ve got some papers to sign before you can officially collect some of that advance money.”
***
What a day. I’d signed the contract. I was going to be published. I hadn’t come to terms with that yet.
After a pleasant teleconference with Frank Graham and his assistant, I’d taken Shannon shopping. As Shannon had insisted on taking care of everything the entire trip, I was determined to get her something as a thank-you gift.
She’d resisted at first. “I’d rather you painted me something fantastic to hang over the mantel in Arthur’s place. Something bold and vibrant. I don’t need anything.”
“I’ll be happy to paint you something. But I’d really like to get you something now. How about a new espresso machine? You’ve been complaining about yours the entire time I’ve been here.”
One gorgeous espresso machine later, I was appeased and she was thrilled.
I couldn’t go home without something Hollywood for the kids. Especially with the outrageous amount of clothes and goodies Shannon had showered on me the entire time.
Once shopping was a fait accompli, we bought a map of the stars’ homes and drove the route. I wildly snapped pictures of what was supposed to be Sylvester Stallone’s mailbox, Meryl Streep’s front gate, and Wynona Ryder’s recycling bin.
We laughed a lot.
After cruising Rodeo Drive, we walked down Hollywood Boulevard. I read most of the eighteen blocks of bronze stars listing some of Hollywood’s greatest legends as well as a few still in the prime of their careers. I wondered if Josh would get a star some day.
Arthur joined us for a picnic dinner and outdoor concert in the park. It was lovely. Shannon and Arthur were absolutely precious.
Intense hazel eyes and outrageously out of control hair had only crossed my mind a dozen times or so over the course of the day. He’d said he wouldn’t say goodbye. Apparently my subconscious was agreeing with him.
I received a text halfway through the concert. Josh sent a picture of himself wearing a WWII fighter pilot’s hat. My heart picked up.