Downing Abbey – Chapter 15

**(Abigail)**

The stools were a little too high, I thought as the bartender flashed me a smile after my second round of scotch. On the rocks, just like my mental state.

The room was different shades of walnut and alder, hardly a fitting setting for the retirees and businessmen over the hump. The surface of the bar was a grey marble slate curved above its wooden stand, where we sat, and dapper jazz played low in our ears.

‘Burgandy Street Blues.’

‘What?’ I responded, head in my palm and elbow on the marble counter.

‘It’s a George Lewis classic. You weren’t even a thought in my mind at that point yet,’ she said, hands orchestrating to the sharp notes of the saxophone.

‘I forget sometimes that you were young once too,’ I murmured with a smile. The alcohol was just starting to kick in, and while I normally kept my wits about me in bars, I felt safe with my mom.

‘And sometimes, I forget that you’re all grown up,’ she said as she tilted her chin up to a spot behind me. I looked backwards, just before catching him looking away. He was at least twenty years older than me, and that ring on his finger caught the light just right to glint momentarily. ‘I remember being a young woman, getting all that attention. It was either a thrill or a bother, all depending on who was on the other side of that room.’

My phone buzzed and my eyes glanced towards it.

‘And all these online ways to find people nowadays too, I can’t believe how confusing it is for young people,’ she said prudently, pointing a finger at my phone. ‘No wonder the divorce rate is climbing. Too many options is no good.’

Jillian: I’m at your apartment. If you’re inside, please open the door. We need to talk.

I guess my pursed lips was enough of a give-away for my mom to raise a brow and say, ‘Is it that boy?’

I folded my face into my arms, darkening the room around me. ‘No, it’s his sister,’ I mumbled. ‘We’re kind of good friends. Though I’m not so sure anymore.’

‘Really . . .’ she said rhetorically, and I swiveled my head to see her nodding to herself. ‘I guess all the power is with you then.’

I frowned. ‘I don’t feel very powerful right now mom,’ I said, shaking my head and taking another sip of fire. ‘She wants to talk to me.’

‘Are they close?’ she asked. ‘Him and the sister.’

‘They work sixty hours a week ten feet from each other. Yeah I’d say they’re pretty close.’

‘As long as she’s not looking for a verbal punching bag, then I’d talk to her,’ she said with a hopeful smile.

‘Well,’ I sighed, staring off into a fuzzy abyss. ‘I don’t think she is, but she damn sure has the right to.’

Mom reached out and put her hand over mine. ‘What are you worried about Abbs?’ she asked.

‘That she wants to set my hair on fire.’

She shook her head and inhaled. ‘No, what are you *really* worried about?’

I felt that clenched knot in my stomach rise to my throat, and hesitated for a second before my sight refocused, and I looked into her eyes.

‘I guess I’m . . . afraid. I’m afraid of knowing how Luke is doing. I’m afraid she’s going to tell me to fuck off, not because I can’t handle those words, but because he’s over me. I’m afraid that even if I somehow get another chance with him, that I’ll just run away again and I don’t want to hurt him mom – ’ and I bit my lip while furrowing my brows, holding down the waterworks, ‘ – I can’t hurt him again.’

I looked down, but she lifted my chin. ‘You have to talk to her, my sweet girl, or you’re going to kill yourself over wondering what she wants to say.’

I swallowed and took deep breaths, counting down from ten, a method I used in between rounds at competitions to settle my heartbeat. ‘But what if she’s going to tell me what I don’t want to hear?’

My mom broke out a smile that brought crinkles around her bright eyes, the extra lines a reminder of how much more she’s witnessed than I have. ‘Then we’ll eat ice cream and watch Friends reruns together until you’re ready to face the world again.’

We watched each other’s mouths curl up before settling into laughter together, the warm rumblings from her belly calming me.

‘Promise?’ I said with a lopsided grin.

‘Promise,’ she smiled. ‘But I don’t want you to hold that poison of regret forever.’ She pointed to my phone. ‘Go on, tell her where we are.’

And I did.

___________________________________________________

**(Lucas)**

The shower and fresh shave helped me feel clean, and the nap after we passed the Williamsburg Bridge was much needed, but nothing was as healing as the sea breeze on my skin.

Salt water surrounded both sides of us, as we drove on Ocean Parkway, cutting through Jones State Park. It was a perfect day, and families were making their way towards the beaches to make the most of the summer weather. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky except for the dark fluff hanging over my head.

‘Mom would have loved this,’ Jacob called out from the back seat, passenger side. ‘She always loved the water.’

‘Remember Luke, when she made Garrett build a pool in our backyard, and Jacob nearly drowned because we threw him in without floaties to “teach” him how to swim?’ Chris laughed, looking over at me in the passenger seat. ‘Jill had to drag his ass out.’

‘What I remember better is the look on mom’s face when she realized,’ I said, staring into the blue horizon. ‘I don’t think I ever climbed over a fence so fast.’

Our mom’s name was Theresa Green, and she’s not with us anymore. The doctors found the clots in her arteries, but by then it was already too late. She died to a flash stroke two days before she was scheduled for an operation. It was a loss for all of humanity.

What can I say about her? She was in many ways the perfect mother – disciplining, caring, and aggressively affectionate. I remember in middle school, hating the kisses she would give me when she dropped us off, wiping away the lipstick that was the root of so much teasing. What I wouldn’t give for just one of those kisses now.

She followed her passions, and wasn’t content just being a housewife. She opened a small boutique, and kept it turning profits while managing the house and us kids at the same time. Though we weren’t short on money, she never let that business die, and I learned exactly what work ethic meant.

I wanted to tell her what was happening right now. She’d know what to do. She would tell me to follow my heart, to throw everything at the wall and see what stuck. She’d tell me to wait outside of Abigail’s door and demanded she’d talk to me, a possibility I considered more times than once.

But the pain of giving everything and being burned wasn’t something I wanted to feel again. My heart wasn’t whole anymore, and I didn’t have the courage to piece it back together.

‘She was always welcoming to me. I spent so much time with you guys I thought of her as my second mom. Shit, I probably spent more nights sleeping in Jacob’s room than my own,’ Steve called out from behind Chris. ‘My dad kicked me out more times than I could count.’

‘It was mom’s idea to put that bunk-bed in my room,’ Jacob replied. ‘I miss her every day.’

We all sat for a minute in silent agreement, and I wished she could be here to see this ocean.

‘Say what you want about how Garrett doesn’t have a heart, but he took her death worse than any one of us,’ Chris sighed. ‘He was never the same person afterwards.’

‘I don’t know if I can consider him a *person*,’ I snorted. ‘And mom’s passing is no excuse for the shit he puts us through.’

‘He became such a bully, and so fucking bitter,’ Jacob agreed. ‘It’s like we lost both parents that day.’

‘Did he love her?’ Steve asked. ‘He talks about her now like she meant nothing to him.’

‘I think he did,’ Chris replied. ‘I think they were happy together.’

‘She made everyone around her happy,’ Jacob said. ‘But I think he loved her too. Sure they argued, but he was always more relaxed, easier when she was in the room.’

‘I hope so,’ I said. ‘She deserved to be loved.’

I wasn’t sure which woman I was talking about, but I *knew* I didn’t want to end up like my father.

______________________________________________

**(Abigail)**

Her blonde head bobbed in and out of sight amongst the crowd before twisting her neck to glance around. After a few moments our eyes made contact, I noticed her worried smile, and that nervous concoction in my stomach didn’t sit right with me.

I downed what was remaining of my scotch, and signaled the bartender for a refill. There wasn’t much more I needed to bolster my confidence – perhaps a time machine would help.

‘Hi,’ she said warily as she sat, the chair easily swallowing her bite-sized frame.

‘Hi Jill,’ I murmured, not excited about the new asshole she was undoubtedly wanting to rip out of me. I stared into her green eyes, the ones I knew so well. At the end of the day, she was team Brimstone, and the chromosomes didn’t lie.

‘How are you doing?’ she asks, and her simulated sympathy was actually believable. Applaudable, but what would you expect from a honed elite who achieves most of her success through delivery of words? ‘Are you holding up well these days?’

Playing with her food.

‘I’m doing fine Jill,’ I replied. I’ll play along.

‘Can I get you anything to drink miss?’ the bartender said with a dazzle of teeth. Looks like he charmed anything with a set of tits. I guess it can’t be helped, men are programmed to seek variety.

‘No thanks,’ she said without looking at him. She meant business today.

Her eyes fell to the space in the floor between us, and I heard her swallow. A little over the top, even for a professional speaker. ‘I can’t tell you how sorry I am Abbey,’ she said lowly before looking up at me with a sheen of wetness over her eyes, face contorted in remorse marked through the lines around her eyes and forehead.

My pupils dilated a touch. She wasn’t acting. If she was, she was wasting her time being a lawyer because Hollywood needed to see this.

I shook my head slightly. ‘Jill,’ I said, voice perspiring confusion. ‘What on Earth do *you* have to be sorry about?’

‘Abbey, don’t play dumb,’ she replied, sighing. ‘I shouldn’t have told you about Pamela. It was really none of my business. I was so drunk that day . . .’

I furrowed my brows. ‘Wait, Jill I don’t understand. What does that have to do with Luke and I?’

Now it was her turn to be confused. ‘You felt ashamed to be spoiled financially by my brother, right?’ she said with conviction, and that was *definitely* not a scripted line. ‘I thought that’s why you left so abruptly – you saw yourself as Pamela and I completely understand why you’d feel that way.’

I never had a desire to slap Jillian before, but this was pretty damn close.

I took a deep breath. ‘Spoiled? Is that how you think it works between Luke and I? *Damn it* Jill, I’m completely financially stable and I don’t need a man to cover my expenses. Really, I thought you knew me better than that,’ I said with attitude, words racing out.

She reached out a hand and I promptly avoided it, moving my arm back to my side. ‘Abby, I’m sorry. Then I guess I really don’t understand. Enlighten me.’

The temperature was rising. ‘It’s because of Sam okay? I’m still not over how Sam broke my heart yet and I pulled out because I didn’t want to get hurt again.’

Her mouth opened slightly and she froze as if fifty volts of electricity hit her. ‘That’s *it*?’ she blurted. ‘*That’s* why you turned Luke into a depressed sack of shit? I think that’s really irresponsible of you Abbey, I mean really, he’s not Sam.’

The water in my head was boiling now. ‘It takes some people longer to get over a relationship,’ I seethed, staring her down like the enemy she felt like right now. ‘Not everyone breaks up after two dates like *you*.’

Her jaw clenched, and her green eyes dimmed to olive. ‘I’m going to let that slide, because I know you’re hurting right now,’ she said, even-keel. ‘I’m here to make things right between you and Luke.’

I snorted. ‘Well you’re doing a fucking fantastic job of it,’ I said with vehement sarcasm. ‘I hope you’re a better sister than a friend.’

I stormed out so quickly I forgot to settle the bill. But I guess in Jillian’s eyes, I was used to other people paying for me anyways.

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