October 15, 2015

4:45 pm

Harrison, Fink, & Timberlake, Attorneys at Law

598 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY

I don’t smile anymore, not on purpose anyway.  They’re fake now, put on, rehearsed and tucked away so they’ll be ready to show off when the moment arises.  The last time I brought out a completely genuine smile was when I saw Tyler on his birthday, and that was almost four months ago.

“Hey buddy!” My smile flew on as I greeted him in my parents Foyer.

“Hi Uncle Justin.”  He didn’t smile, just half hugged me and walked further into the house.  It had only been a few months, but he’d seemed to age years in that time.

I knew it was my fault, but it was too late to change things.  He was deep into school at Valley Hill and was accustomed to a new routine.  I had to simply look the other way, and tell myself that yes, this was the best thing for him.

I’m not a groveler.  I didn’t go chasing after her that day.  I didn’t call.  I didn’t text, or attempt to write a long worded hand written letter expressing all the ways I loved her.

Sometimes I think, hey, you should have, just for the hell of it.

But I didn’t, and after all these months, with all the stuff that’s coming up, I really should stop dwelling on what I should have fucking done, because I can’t go back now, or ever.
r32;I let her go, because I knew that was the best thing I could have ever done for the girl.  She was better than me.  Better than the coke head I was becoming, and I knew that one day Mags would find someone that would cherish her more than I ever could.

No, I’m not a groveler.  Just a sell out.  The second she walked out on me, I knew the restaurant would never work, because my passion for it was completely gone.  I sold my share of the business to the investors shortly after Fay’s funeral and moved the hell on, because I knew it was the only choice I had unless I wanted to wind up in serious financial trouble.  I mean, it was hard enough asking Benjamin to talk to Barry for me about taking the partnership.  If I had to ask him for money on top of that I don’t think I could have lived with myself.

And it was really hard for awhile, living with myself.  At times, hell, most of the time, it still is.

I don’t like to talk about what those first couple of months were like for me.  My shrink hates it, says I hold back too much, but I tell him I don’t even know who the hell I was then.  I look in the mirror now and I see Justin Timberlake, Benjamin’s perfect son who has it all together.  I don’t see that guy who lost his sister, or pushed the love of his life away anymore, and that’s fucking progress, let me tell you.  It took me a really long time to come out of my funk, wake the hell up.  After the funeral, I slipped into this sort of cocaine coma.  I barricade myself in the house and only left to get my fix.  I blacked out a lot, and most of the time, I had no idea what day it was.  I had a couple of good scares, overdoses that led to emergency hospital visits, but I didn’t take any of it seriously until that fifth trip to the ER that almost left me dead.

I suffered a massive heart attack because of the drugs, that required me to have open heart surgery.  I have a pace maker now, at twenty-nine. It took three months of physical therapy to get back to a normal routine, and I received the ass reaming of a lifetime from Benjamin.  He told me it was either go to rehab or quit the drugs cold in private and move on with dignity.  Those were my options, and I knew if I ended up in rehab, I wouldn’t have a chance in hell at becoming partner.

So I just gave up the cocaine…cold.  Rough? That’s not even touching the experience my body went through, getting off that shit.

If nothing else, it taught me enough never to pick it up again.  I really can’t.  The cardiologist told me that any more exposure of cocaine to my heart would be like a death sentence.  I toyed with the idea for about thirty seconds, but figured I’d already let Fay down enough.  If I ended up dead, it wouldn’t have done her legacy any good.  As fucked up as my parents were, they didn’t need to lose another child, and Tyler didn’t need to lose his uncle, either.  So, for the first time in a very long time, I decided to put some effort into myself.  

I decided to try and start my life over.

Benjamin had a nurse stay with me, in my house, for two weeks of detox.  After he was satisfied that I could stand on my own again, he booted my ass out of bed, made me get a haircut and a clean shave, and set up an interview with Barry.

And Barry, God bless him, he gave me that partnership, no questions asked, the very same day that we talked.

It’s been two months since I signed on, and I’ve fallen right back into the swing of being a successful lawyer.  My case work continues to be flawless, and I’m still winning as many high profile cases as before, if not more so.  I don’t deserve any of this, the fresh start, the money, or the cars, or the house.  I deserve to be struggling, to be an addict, after what I did to Maggie, after I went back on my promises to Fay.  Benjamin wouldn’t hear of it.  He lost one child, and he wasn’t about to allow his son, the one with the most promise, to embarrass him.  So he ensured my future.

There will be no repayment to Benjamin.  He’ll hold all of this over me for the rest of his days, rubbing his sacrifices in my face whenever it’s convenient.  I have to live with that, because all of this is my fault.  I had my shot, could have done my own thing.  I had all the means right there in front of me, and an amazing girl to share it all with.

I just threw it away. I threw it away because I was lost, and also because I was selfish.

Sometimes when I’m at dinner with her, and I just…fuck…I just can’t take her mindless BS anymore, I start to think about happy hour, and Mags, and her smile. It takes me away for a little while, helps me relax, and it’s good for my heart, when I relax.  It’s the only way I can continue to tolerate her and my choice.  Well, choice isn’t really the word.  This isn’t the stone age of course.  I’m not in an arranged relationship or anything.  She’s my choice, I guess, but Benjamin had a lot to say about me dating her.  He said it would be good for me, that we had a lot in common, and that I would eventually see that.

I guess I have. Our backgrounds are similar.  Our families are old friends.  We both went to Valley Hill, and attended Yale.  We can talk about all of that, about Yale, about material things, vacations, and yachting. Just not about Fay, but I don't talk about her with anyone.

But what about love?

There’s no such thing as love.  Just what makes sense, and this does.  It does financially, and yes, she’s a beautiful woman, there’s no question.  Nobody has to twist my arm to crawl into bed and do her.  At least I have that, for now.  I mean, until we’re married and she starts holding that all back, like I’m sure she will, because she knows damn well that I’ll never be in love with her.  She’s in this for the money and I’m in it so I’ll be able to have a fucking blood line, nothing more.   

There’s no magic here. No love of my life.  Just generalness.  Just ‘what’s-supposed-to-be’.  One day leads into the next in a mindless circle and nothing ever changes in this world.  We’re on that five year ‘i’m a hot shot lawyer married to a trophy wife’ life plan.  There will be the wedding first, of course. Then we’ll have two kids spaced exactly 2 and a half years apart, careers planned before they’re even out of the womb. After that comes the brownstone in Manhattan, the weekend house in Montauk. Summer trips to the French Riviera and winter trips to Aspen. Me living at the law firm, her decorating and redecorating the house, shopping endlessly for an every growing supply of clothing and shoes, and having the nanny cart our toddlers from one stupid activity to the next since she’ll be too busy bragging about what a catch I am to her friends to spend that time with them.  I’ll never see my kids until retirement comes, and by then, they’ll have turned into miniature versions of myself, thanks to my stern upbringing and the expensive boarding school they’ll have attended for most of their lives.   It’s just like Benjamin always planned for me.  He’s proud I’m turning out this way…his way… after all, and doesn’t think I should have any complaints.

I had my shot at what I really wanted after all, and I fucking blew it.  There can’t be any resentment, except towards myself, and in order to stay healthy, I can’t hate myself. I have too many debts to repay, and too much to live up to now.  I’m filling Benjamin’s legacy, and that’s my only focus.

“Mr. Timberlake?”

I glance away from the computer screen and nod slightly at Shelby before focusing again.  That was the first thing I did after they put my name on the door, promote her as my secretary, because I knew she was the only person in this whole place who really gave a damn about my career.  “What is it, Shelby?”

“You were on the line…did you miss your 4:30?”

“Oh, shit.”  I scramble for my pill box in the right hand drawer.  “Thanks.  I need to remember to set that timer instead of relying on you all the time.  I’m sorry.”

“It’s not a problem, sir,” she smiles sweetly.  “Have a good weekend.”

I pop open Friday’s tab and pull out my two afternoon pills before nodding at her one last time.  “You too.  See you Monday?”

“Bright and early.” She waves a little and closes the door on her way out of my office.

I pop the pills back with my lukewarm coffee and let out a small sigh once they’re down.  Six pills a day, seven days a week.  Miss a dose, not the end of the world.  Miss a day, and it’s certain to land me in the hospital.  I still have a hard time remembering, and it’s even worse when I’m home.  She yells at me constantly, tells me that I’m going to forget all my dosages one day and then we’ll never have the wedding.  It’s not that I might die no, that’s not her biggest fear.  It’s that we might not have the wedding of her dreams and pump out a couple of little marriage security rug rats.  

I’m not looking forward our wedding, and there’s something very wrong with that, although, I’m sure Benjamin had the same feelings when he was about to marry my mother.  I’ll get used to it, that’s what he would tell me.

I’m sure I will.

Five o’clock turns into half past, and then before I know it, it’s nearly six thirty.  I know I’m in for a lecture before I even get my jacket on and set foot out of the building.  I’m supposed to be meeting her in Soho for dinner with friends at six thirty, something she's been reminding me  about all week.  She’ll tell me that I embarrassed her in front of our friends.  They’re not even people I would ever consider my friends in a million years.  They’re yuppie assholes that I guess someone like me is supposed to associate himself with.  They’re the type of people Benjamin keeps as friends.

I hate this life.  Truly.

The firm’s car service gets me down to Soho, but it’s not quick enough with rush hour traffic still in effect.  They’re on caviar appetizers and cocktails by the time I sit down next to her at seven fifteen, and I receive the classic glare, but I don’t hesitate to pull out one of my carefully preserved smiles for her.  I kiss her neck and lips and rub her bare thigh.  

“You’re late,” she grits through her poised smile.  “Again.”

“Clients.” I nod slightly, and turn to our dinner companions.  “Sorry about this,” I apologize to our friends, not to her.  “I couldn’t get out of the office fast enough today.”

“Don’t sweat it brother.” Elijah Conrad flashes his perfect smile at me and throws an arm around Charmaine Harrison, his bride to be and her maid of honor.  “The brokerage is just as hectic on Fridays, I just happened to sneak out under the radar today.”

“He’s just that good.” Charmaine smiles up at him and they share a brief kiss.

They may not be my kind of people, but I can tell what they have is real.

I envy them.  I’d give anything to have that back in my life.

The conversation quickly turns to dinner selections and our wedding plans.  Charmaine and my fiancé eventually end up in their own little world of crystal selection and china patterns in a magazine one of them brought with them, which gives Elijah the opportunity to talk with me about himself for the rest of our meal.  My timer goes off at eight thirty, warning me that I have to take my evening dosage, and I’ve never been more thankful for anything in my life.  “Excuse me.  I just need to run to the rest room.”

She rubs my thigh slightly, for the first time all night taking her focus off of our lavish, ridiculously expensive wedding plans to focus on me.  It’s strange, because she never really does.  Only in bed, sometimes, after sex, and even then, it seems forced.   “How do you feel?”

“I’m…I’m okay,” I nod slightly.  Of course it’s a lie.  My chest has felt a little tight today, and I’ve been coughing.  I have another appointment with the cardiologist next week, and he said this type of feeling is normal the first year, so I’m not worried, just uncomfortable.  I would never tell her that.

She strokes my face gently, and a small smile pulls at her lips.  “How about Montauk this weekend? My parents said it’s probably the last nice one we’ll have before winter hits.”

I blow out a long breath but don’t pull away from her.  Sometimes I like this, her smiling up at me, stroking my face.  It gives me a small feeling of comfort, and with a heart condition, I need as many of those moments as possible.  “I have some casework…you know how it is.”

I really don’t want to go.

“Baby.” She pouts slightly.  “Please? I’d really like to get away before the holidays start.  You know how crazy it can be, shopping, baking, all of that, and a wedding to plan.  When will we ever have a moment alone again before the wedding?”

I think…sex? Yes.  It works.  I haven’t had any in almost a week and a half, so it’ll be good, take some stress off of me.  “All right.” I pull out just a half smile so I won’t have to put as much effort into it.  “We’ll go.”

She smiles brightly, and kisses me deeply on the lips.  “I know your heart is only half in this right now,” she whispers, while our friends are distracted in conversation.  “But Justin, I’d really like to try.  I’d like us to have something real.”

I stare at her, bewildered.  She’s never said anything like that to me before.  “Where’s this coming from?”

She shrugs slightly.  “I want what they have.  Is that so bad?  I think we can do it if we try.  I think we can really love each other.”

I shrug.  “I have to take my pills.”

She frowns slightly.  “Okay.”

I don’t even have to leave the table to know that this conversation is far from over, but no conversation between us ever really is.  She doesn’t let things go, just keeps pushing and pushing until I either have to give in or have a god damn heart attack, and I’ve worked too hard on myself to die now.

The blessed event is in April, but it may as well be next week since she’s constantly reminding me that it’s right around the corner.  Why did I propose? It’s a good question.  She’s not a bad girl, that’s probably why.  Out of all the fake, manipulative, selfish women that my father has set me up with in the past, she’s been the most genuine and the most tolerable.  We hadn’t known each other more than a few months, but I knew I wouldn’t do better.  So I figured, why not lock her in? I bought the ring on my lunch hour, and I proposed the same day.  No, I didn’t get on my knee, and I barely smiled.  I just told her I thought it would be a good idea if we got marriage out of the way.  I actually said that, and she was actually thrilled. That’s how fucking shallow we both are.

The sex was great though, so bonus for me, although, that’s been the only highlight so far.

I’m never more thankful for the priceless serenity of the mens room.  I pop the pills and slug down some water that the bathroom attendant hands me with a smile.  My chest tightens slightly and I cough, but it passes, and I lean against the sink, back to the mirror, making sure I’ve caught most of my breath before heading out to tackle reality and a woman that wants to try and love me, because it’s what her friends are doing in their relationship.

I rub my face, and when I look up again, I almost jump out of my skin.

“What are you doing, Justin?”

My sister is there, standing on her own two feet, arms crossed sternly, giving me a disappointed look.

I’ve done everything I can, not to think of her.  Only during therapy, and even then, it’s few and far between.  I find that thinking of her drives me to a dark place.  I can’t handle it, and it used to lead me right back to the coke.  “Wha…”

“There’s a lot of things I expected you to do, but I never thought you would just go ahead and turn into Dad.”

I shake my head slightly, clutch my chest when it begins to tighten more and more.  I cough, wheeze, and gasp for a breath, before digging into my slacks for my inhaler.  I take a long drag from it and it relaxes my chest, but Fay is gone when I get my bearings again.

It’s the medication.  There’s no other explanation.  Fay is long gone.

Even so, I know she was right in what she said just now.  Turning into dad was never an option.

But here I am.

I head back out and they’re waiting for me.  It’s been decided that we spend the rest of our Friday night at a jazz club uptown, and I’m totally not up for it.  That little attack wore me out, and all I really want to do is go home and fall into bed until she forces me up at first light to drive out to Montauk.

“I’m not up for it.”  I whisper it in her ear when we get outside and Elijah steps to the curb to hail the taxi.  “You can go ahead if you want.”

“Come on, Justin.  You never want to go out.”  She rolls her eyes at me and pulls me along like I’m supposed to play nice.  Before it was all about if I felt all right, and now it’s turned into me ruining her night out.

“I’m just not feeling well,” I tell her harshly.  “My chest is acting up.  Give me a break, all right?”

“Forget it.  We’ll just fucking go home.”

Typical.

She spends the next ten minutes apologizing to Elijah and Charmaine, before we hail a cab of our own and head back towards Penn Station.  It’ll be another hour before we get back to Oyster Bay, and I pray she just pulls out her Blackberry or a god damn romance novel and leaves me to my thoughts.

“Honestly, how are we ever supposed to have friends if you bail every time I make plans for us?”

She starts in the minute we’re settled on the train.

I sigh harshly.  “I don’t bail every time.”

“It’s every time.”

“Fine, whatever.  I told you that you could go ahead.”

“We’re supposed to do things as a couple!”

She goes on and on about how awful I am to her.  How I never want to do anything, how I’m a lousy, stupid asshole that only cares about himself, which I guess, in a way, is pretty correct.  Not that I’m admitting that to her.  

“SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!”

I scream it at her on the train.  I’ve never done that before.  My chest throbs, and I clutch it with one hand, trying to catch my breath.  I close my eyes and lean back against the seat when it doesn't work right away.  I feel the sweat dripping down my face, and I know my condition is only getting worse.  

“Oh that’s really cute,” she mutters.  “Let’s put on the sick show now so everyone will feel sorry for you.”

“It’s…It’s not a show.”  I wheeze and reach for my inhaler, but even that isn’t enough.  “I need to go to the hospital.”

“Please.”

“I’m fucking…serious.”

She glances at me, and I can tell she believes me this time.  “Oh my god, Justin, your face…it’s bright red.”

“Get someone…anyone.  Hannah, please.”

And for the first time since I met the girl, she’s actually of some use to me.

Luckily for me, there are several doctors on our train.  At some point after they’ve laid me out the floor and ripped my shirt open, I pass out, while Hannah freaks out in the background.  When my eyes open again, the scenery is all too familiar.  Sterile white, the feeling of tubes shoved up my nose and down my throat.   She sits at my beside, tiny, perfectly manicured fingers curled up inside my right hand that’s been laced with tubing at every angle.  

She’s here for me.  I shake my head ever so slightly and sigh.  Despite our differences, how much I’ve said I don’t love her, and how much she knows that I don’t, she’s still here for me.

No one else is.

Her eyes flutter open when I give her hand a squeeze and she snaps to attention.  “Justin…Justin oh my…Justin they said you had like a mini heart attack or something…oh my God…I…”

“Shh.”  

The smile that forms isn’t one I’ve conveniently pulled out.  I don’t have the energy for that right now, so that must mean that this one is genuine.  It’s been too long.  I forgot how it felt.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpers, and presses the back of my hand to her cheek.  “I’m sorry I pushed you tonight.  It was my fault.”

“It was bound to happen,” I whisper.  “I’d been having issues the past couple of days, and I should have said something.”

“You’re fucking stubborn, that’s your problem.”

“Yeah, I know that.”

“Don’t do it again.  Do you have any idea…I mean, I could have lost you.”

She looks into my eyes, and I realize for the first time in a while, how empty I’ve felt inside for all this time.  I’m only really seeing her for who she truly is, right now, and I feel something spark to life inside of me, but I can’t be sure if it’s real or not.  Something might be playing a trick on me, or I might just be imagining that she’s here, or that she seems to give a damn right now.  

“You’d figure something else out,” I say, gently.

“Damn it Justin,” she sobs.  “Do you think I just…that I just don’t have any type of feelings for you?  Do you really think I’d waste my time yelling at you if I didn’t fucking love you?”

“I really don’t know, Hannah.”

“Can you please try and let me in?  Please? Before something else happens to you.”

I can’t promise her anything.  Nobody gets in, not anymore.  I can’t afford it, have no time.  Work is first, our children will come second, and I guess she would make a close third, if I gave a damn.

But I guess if I die, none of it will matter.

“You have your pick of any guy in Manhattan, and you let my father convince you to date me.”  The smallest smile pulls at my lips, and I feel the fatigue pulling at my eyes, but I don’t want to go just yet.  

“Yeah.”  Tears fill her eyes, but she’s smiling for me.  

She has a beautiful smile.  

“Would you change your mind…if you knew how things would be?”

“Now?”

I nod.  

“You can’t help who you love, Justin.”

She’s right.

Her hand goes to my cheek and my eyes close as she smooths it over my skin.  I pull her fingers to my mouth at one point, and press my lips to the tips of them.  “I love you Hannah.” I manage it, before I drift off.

It’s weird, but I might actually mean it now, and that’s definitely not something Benjamin would do.

Maybe there’s hope for me yet.