9
Summer
“Can I get you anything else before I leave?” Lyssa asks.
“No, thank you,” I reply, straightening up and forcing a smile. It’s not her fault I’m in this situation or this sullen mood. It’s also definitely not her fault I haven’t seen hide nor hair of Eric since yesterday.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“You barely ate, dear.”
“Honestly, I’m okay,” I assure her. “I don’t feel much like eating.” I decide to go with the truth because of her sincerity.
“Alright. There are some sugar buns on the side if you get hungry.”
“Thanks. Did Eric say when he’d be back?”
“No, I’m afraid he can be like that sometimes. Some weeks I don’t see him at all.”
“Oh, I see.” Maybe that will happen to me. I can’t say that’ll be a bad thing given our last encounter, but it’s not a good thing either. I can’t stay here day in, day out, not knowing what’s going on.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says, and I wave.
She leaves me, and I relax a little allowing my true mood to show.
If staying with this man means being torn between arousal, fear, or in a state of flux it’s going to make me crazy.
I like my independence for all those reasons. One of the things I loved about being on my own was the freedom to do what I wanted when I wanted.
When you’ve spent most of your life trying to survive, knowing what’s going to happen tomorrow and the next day and the day after that is imperative.
This situation, however, is one that’s completely out of my hands, and I have to do something I haven’t done in so long I can’t remember how to do it.
I have to trust a complete stranger.
Regardless of my plans or how much I hate this fucked up situation, I have to trust Eric on some level with my life.
The weird thing about that, though, is usually when you trust a person, they care about you. He doesn’t care about me at all. Eric is just like every other man who needs something from me. Right now, that something is me.
I have no idea how long it’s going to take to find Robert and Micah, but since Eric suggested seeing Dad on Sunday, I think it might take longer than what I was hoping for.
I look around the room at the boxes on the floor that arrived from the cottage. I’m grateful for my things from there too. They were delivered earlier, so it gave me something to do.
There aren’t many, but there’s a mixture of Scarlett’s things she kept there and the bare minimum I was able to bring from Monaco. Had I gone with whoever was sent to retrieve them, I would have left Scarlett’s things there. Now that they’re here, though, I’m glad to have them. They make me feel closer to her, even though seeing them also makes me sad too.
I kneel and continue sorting through the boxes. I decided to separate the items, but I’ve been looking for something, and I can see it now. It’s a little journal. On the front is a picture of Grandmama with her arms around Scarlett and me.
Of everything that I had at the cottage, this was what I worried about losing. My grandmother made it for me. She made one for Scarlett too.
It’s an acting journal. She said it was one of the most important things in an actress's life because it’s supposed to serve as a reminder of where you came from.
Scarlett and I were six years old in this picture, and Grandmama hadn’t yet been diagnosed with the cancer that would claim her life.
Scarlett’s hugging me tight, and we have the biggest smiles on our faces. Grandmama had us dressed in matching pink puff-sleeved dresses.
She took the picture after we’d just gotten casted for the part of twins in a sitcom called, All my Years. We were on that show for four years. That was the start of the dream for us. After that show, I was the one who went on to do stage plays, and I did it all before and during high school. I can’t believe that was only eighteen years ago.