The Thorne at My Side

CHAPTER 6

Put it all on the line.

AUSTIN

"How'd the podcast go?" Elle asks as she gives Brinkley a little chin scratch and tosses her bag on the island.

"Good," I say as I sip my beer and try to refocus on the baseball game on TV.

"Just good?" Elle prompts as she comes and sits down next to me. "I would think there was quite a lot of action between you and Maggie Collins."

My head whips towards her, "how do you know about Maggie Collins?"

Is she reading my mind? Because my eyes might be pointed at the TV but they’re seeing Maggie. No woman has distracted me like this before.

"She was all over the show’s social media, geesh, chill out. Elle walks into the kitchen and continues talking to me, "When I saw her headshot I knew you'd be a bumbling mess because blonde hair and blue eyes are the epitome of beauty to you. Plus I can’t imagine a speech writer whose livelihood depends on creating content would like the idea of AI Media coming into her space. I bet she was pissed." She says with a laugh as she plops down in the corner seat of the sofa with a bag of popcorn .

I look at her with side-eyes and confirm she’s in a position to keep talking to me instead of watching the TV the sofa is pointed at.

"She's beautiful, there's no arguing that. But she's so," I pause looking for the right word to describe how I wanted to be near to her while at the same time wanted to yell at her for her naiveté. How I had to get close enough to smell her perfume while feeling the wall of resistance between us. "Frustrating."

"Frustrating?" Elle repeats around a mouth of popcorn.

"Yeah, she's incredibly smart, I've read some of her speeches and the op-eds she's written in every publication but ours, but she barely engaged with me on the podcast and afterwa-"

"What happened afterwards?" Elle asks, leaning closer to me with interest in her tone.

"We argued on the sidewalk but she didn't say much so I was basically arguing with her facial expressions which can't hide her thoughts at all. I hope she never plays poker."

"Interesting," Elle says as she leans back into the corner.

"Tell me about your day." I ask in a not-so-subtle attempt to change the subject.

"Smooth,” she laughs and then sighs, “Dad introduced me to Carly, his latest girlfriend. He asked me to meet him for dinner and I should have known she was coming because he said to,” she develops a mocking baritone, “wear something suitable and not your hippie dippy costume.”"

"Aww, but I like you in sustainably farmed organic hemp.” I whine. She throws a handful of popcorn at me and we share a laugh. Elle spent her first two years after college in the Peace Corps in Cambodia. Then a year teaching English in Japan. Then she decided to spend another two years traveling through Eastern and Western Asia where she joined a non profit organization that was monitoring textile factories. Her “hippie dippy costume” as Dad called it, is actually a collection of ethically made pieces that she doesn’t buy too many of. She still carries around designer handbags though because, as she says, nothing beats Italian leather.

Last year, she called me after being off the grid for three months to say that she just landed at Dulles. While I was still trying to wrap my head around her sudden arrival she asked if she could crash for a night or two.

It was a wild time, the first few days all she wanted was to eat American junk food. Then the switch flipped. She woke me up at 5:00 am and told me she was going to yoga.

She has been working as a yoga instructor and using her business degree to help them manage the studio. I’m not in a rush to push her out because it’s been fun to have her around but the early wake ups and forced introspection is getting old.

“So, how’d it go? Do you think Carly is going to be our new step-mother?” I ask as I pick up the kernels she tossed at me and eat them.

"Well, considering she's the right age to be my step-sister, I hope not. But who knows. Who cares really? It's like Dad's hobby is marrying women."

I laugh because she's not wrong. Elle is five years younger than me. My mother was Dad's second wife, who got pregnant with me while he was still married to his first wife. Elle is the daughter of my nanny, Laura, and my mom figured she'd be as good as anyone to raise me so she got her settlement and left. She moved out to LA and we exchange emails twice a year on her birthday and mine to stay in contact.

Elle's mom, Laura, who I also call Mom, raised both of us. For about four years it was as Dad’s wife and then it was as his ex-wife but she never left us kids. Laura still lives in the Colonial she shared with Dad in Spring Valley and hosts us for brunch every so often.

Dad has gone through a few more wives in the twenty years since they split. The longest stretch was when he married the daughter of his business rival, then bought her father’s company. Without that acquisition we wouldn't have expanded into video and podcast production which is now our most profitable media sector. Well, for now. The January earnings report will include AI Media’s profits and I’m expecting to impress Dad and hear his succession announcement in the same meeting. Maybe he’ll marry this new girl and start his retirement.

"He does seem to try and collect them all doesn't he," I say.

Elle picks some lint off the knee of her sweat pants. "Do you think we'll be like that? "

"Like what?"

"I dunno, it's not like he's a commitmentphobe, he will marry anyone with legs, but he doesn't seem to be long term focused."

"Because he also wants to fuck anyone with legs," I mumble into my beer bottle.

"Right? And he’s not ugly, but he’s old! Do these women go for him because he's rich and influential and sort of famous?"

"Yeah," I trail off because I've been pursued by women thinking I'm going to offer them the same thing as my dad. But when they find out that I don't inform the media when I'm headed to an event, they tend to lose interest. Or when they find out that I won't buy them their own apartment, like Dad has been known to do for his mistresses, they back away.

"So, do you think we're like him?"

I look over at Elle who is still pulling at the loose string,. I can see the vulnerability clear as day on her face even though she refuses to turn and face me.

Dad doesn’t keep marriage as an investment opportunity to himself. No, he's always making strategic introductions. I think that is part of why she disappeared for three years.

"The fact that you're even asking tells me that you're not. I know I'm not. Otherwise I would be on my third wife by now, not rooming with my sister." I reach over and punch her in the thigh. She lets her legs fall over and then laughs.

"I promise to get a place soon, I just don't know where I want to settle yet."

"You can stay as long as you want."

Because as annoying as she can be, I’ve gotten used to her being around. Her presence makes me feel less lonely.

◆◆◆

I settle into bed and take out my SMS Connect phone. TalkShopGirl and I have exchanged so many different messages over the last two months and I really love ending my day with her. Her emotional presence soothes my frayed edges.

I think back over the course of today’s events. The AI Media announcement, the workshop where I first saw Maggie, then feeling sparks fly during the podcast recording. I’m definitely attracted to her but I don’t think it’s mutual. After all, she’s the one who hypothesized killing me slowly with poison.

Plus the whole point of signing up for SMS Connect is to form an emotional bond, not a physical one. I enrolled because I want to truly connect with someone. I’d be tossing all these messages off a cliff if I focused only on how attracted to Maggie I am. I want to find a person who will be a true partner to me.

When Elle and I were talking earlier I started thinking about Dad’s wives over the years. He has made jokes that by my age he was already on his third wife and I need to get my first one out of the way. Like marriage is the same as getting a flu shot.I didn’t take the time to explain that I want more than a pretty face and hot body. There is a small and petty part of me that hopes TalkShopGirl isn’t hot. Just to show everyone that I truly connect with a woman for reasons besides her looks.

I already know I’ll find her beautiful no matter what she looks like.

I don’t know why Mom, Laura, stayed around. She could have pushed us kids away on some nanny or to boarding schools but she didn’t. She raised us and made sure that our dad was in the picture. She never talked badly about him, well in front of us at least.

Mom never remarried either. I’m not sure why. Did she still love my dad? Was it just more challenging with a daughter and step-son around?

She is the best woman I’ve ever met, besides her daughter, and she deserves so much more than what my dad gave her.

I huff out a breath and decide to go for broke.

DCFox: I've been thinking, which might be a dangerous endeavor, but my mind keeps playing out the different scenarios for this relationship. My parents, well it's pretty complicated, but my dad is a relationship junkie. He goes all in with every new woman he meets. My step-mom, who raised me alongside my half-sister, has only been in a relationship with my dad. She jokes that he's got so many personalities that she has really been married to at least eight different men in her lifetime .

I bring this up because my sister and I were talking tonight and she asked if we'd be like him. Neither of us have been successful in romantic relationships thus far but we both agreed that we're still hopeful. So, I wanted to tell you, even if what we are doing here doesn't lead to ever-lasting love, it's teaching me how I want to be in a relationship.

How I want to be honest, and authentic. How I want to anticipate hearing from the other person. How I want to think about them throughout the day. How I want them to see the best version of me, believe in that version of me, even when I'm at my worst.

Maggie's face flashes in my mind and I set the phone down for a second. I really hate the person I became with her today. I felt compelled to be right, to win, to make her understand my point of view. It was too easy to let the condescending side of me loose. I hate that in my pursuit of winning, I made her feel small.

While I appreciate that this text-only format lets me plan my words to you, I worry that the off-the-cuff me, the one who is driven by competitiveness and pride, is wildly different. That if we meet in person I won't be able to separate the two.

And, maybe I'm putting the cart before the horse assuming that we'll meet someday, but after the day I've had, I needed to share the side of me that isn't as charming and light-hearted. Maybe this device is making me feel braver than I really am. I’m not sure I would ever say this face to face to a woman I’m wooing. But who knows, maybe, hopefully, once I see your face I’ll feel differently.

I send her the message and quickly power off the phone. I face the window and stare at the drawn curtains waiting for any drowsiness to come. It doesn't. My mind only races with the events of the day.

Brinkley rolls over and settles in next to my calves and the microdose of connection to another living creature settles me. I close my eyes and focus on the warmth of him and slowly drift off to sleep.

◆◆◆

I wake up to the sounds of Elle making breakfast. The blender whirrs with some greens and protein concoction she always makes. When I pull back the covers the SMS Connect phone slides to the floor. I wince as I hear the device crash on the hardwood.

Shit.

I quickly pick it up and turn it over in my hands. It’s fine. With an inhale I perch on the edge of my bed and read the message from TalkShopGirl.

TalkShopGirl: It's amazing that we were both in a melancholy mood yesterday. Maybe that's the wrong word but I got home after a long day and wanted to talk to you but also felt strange bringing my troubles to our exchange. I have to admit that while I feel bad you were feeling blue, it brought a smile to my face that we can now be more open with each other in this way.

Before I got your message, I looked at this little gray rectangle for a while and imagined who you might be, what you might have been doing.

I wanted to ask you if you've ever been so flustered that you couldn't think straight. This happened to me yesterday. I had every opportunity to put this jerk in his place but whenever I tried to respond the words just weren't there.

So as I sat in my comfy spot last night watching James Bond, I wanted to know how you would have responded. I wanted to know what you thought of this problem I'm facing. I wanted to know, well, you.

And without knowing who you are I still feel like I know you, and I am glad to know another part of you. There is a lot of pressure to perform when you first meet someone and that isn't my comfort zone. I like to be prepared. I like to know what's going to happen. And when I'm faced with uncertainty I freeze.

But in these messages I get the chance to write out what I'm thinking, what I'm feeling, and it feels less risky. But maybe this is the biggest risk I've taken yet.

I smile as I read, pride and confidence shining through, because it feels like TalkShopGirl and I jumped off the cliff together, hand-in-hand.