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I spend the next couple of hours unpacking the whole sordid debacle out for her. She listens and doesn't say a word. She just nods and takes it all in, none of it surprises her by then she grew up in this world and tried to leave it behind until I dragged her back into it in the harshest way possible. I wouldn't be surprised if after I let her go, she just keeps running until she hits a different ocean. I wonder about turning my back on this world and this life for a moment too. It was never my desire to live in this world after college and for a while I didn’t and I was happy. I haven't thought about that time in years, and it feels good to remember now. Not shut the door to stop from pining for it. She finishes her food and sits back.
"Have you had enough?" I ask.
"Yes, I'm stuffed and tired. It's weird." She says.
"Not really. We've discussed a lot of heavy subjects and you've been through the ringer, no thanks to me. I just hope that one day you can forgive me and give me a chance to earn your trust."
She doesn't say anything. Maria comes to clear the table and tells me that there's a call for me. The person insisted on holding.
"Will you excuse me, please? This might take a while." I say to Orla.
"That's ok, I'm going to go up to my room and rest. I think you're right about the exhaustion catching up with me." She says.
We spend the next few days getting to know each other and having long conversations. I don't know if I've managed to earn her trust or if she'll ever be able to forgive me but I've tried. I know she's reached out to her dad to let him know that she's ok. She's still not ready to see him and refuses to return home. She's adamant that some things that are broken aren't supposed to be fixed.
"You can love people and know that they cannot be a part of their world where they don't fit in yours." She tells me one night over dinner. "I know this sounds weird; but I love my mom, but our lives work better when we're not around each other. She's happier and more secure about her place in my father's heart and affections. It may sound crazy and irrational, but it's who she is and I'm not going to change her. So, I have two choices; I can spend my life trying and failing while making both of us miserable or I love her for who she is and give her what she needs to be that."
I look at her for the longest time before speaking.
"I've already told your father, and now I need to tell you. I'm giving you your freedom. You can leave whenever you want." Her eyes fill with tears.
I know this life isn't what she wants but she's right about giving the person you love - what they need to be who they want to be in life. It's the ultimate act of love. Freedom.
CHAPTER 22
Orla
It's been six months and countless talk and trauma therapy sessions, where I start to feel like myself again. I'm finally comfortable and at home in my life again. Strolling down the street on my way home from Fuller's Market, I've been living on takeout and ramen noodles. Today is the first time that I want to make myself something to eat. I want to curl up in front of the TV and eat something homemade while drinking a beer. I lift my face to feel the sunshine. It's nice, I moved to San Diego a couple of months ago and found a job as an elementary school teacher near the cute apartment I found online. I came here to work with a therapist who specializes in ketamine therapy as a way to get over everything I've been through, and my psychiatrist recommended her.
I moved here permanently and haven’t looked back. Things are still tough sometimes and I'm working on healing my relationship with my dad. He visits every chance he gets and always lies about my mother sending her love. He asks about Kase every time, but I suspect that's more to do with him wanting me to move back home than anything else. I don't think that I'll ever move back east, and I know that being a criminal's daughter is enough. I don't want to spend my life being a wife to one. Much less bringing little criminals into the world. I reach the building and Kase is sitting on the landing. He looks completely different. His hair is longer, and he's wearing jeans and a T-shirt. The polar opposite of his buttoned-down Wall Street look and he's never looked better. He gets up when he sees me.
"Hey." He says.
"Hey, what are you doing in California? Looking like a screenwriter." I laugh. I'm happy to see him. He laughs.
"I'm out here trying to be a screenwriter." He rolls his eyes.
"Come on." I say. He just smirks. "Noooo. How did that happen?"
"What can I say? You inspired me." He fidgets nervously and stares at his shoes. "I've been working a few things out in therapy. Another page from your book. Just figuring things out."
"It's fun huh!?" I smile.
"Like a holiday that just won't end," He says and runs his fingers through his hair. "Anyway, I just wanted to say hi and stop by. I hope that's ok. I asked your dad how I could reach you and he gave me your address."
"Sounds like him. Why give a phone number when you can make them take a long ass trip?" I say, and he smiles.
"It was great seeing you again, Orla. Take care." He touches my shoulder and walks away.
"Hey!" I yell after him.
"Yeah!?" He answers.
"Are you in the mood for linguini and a bad Western?" I ask.
He looks at the sidewalk.
"Are you sure it’s, ok? I wouldn't want to impose."
