The Perfect Life
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning. And in case you forget before then, I love you, Monroe,” I said, giving her one last kiss and swatting her ass as she sauntered toward the door.
“I love you too, Ollie,” she replied before exiting back into the party, looking more beautiful than ever bathed in the moonlight with her entire face glowing. “See you then.”
I waited a few minutes after she left, just in case anyone was loitering around the hallway and had seen her emerge from the room. When I felt the coast was clear, I straightened my jacket and finger-combed my hair down then swung the door open and stepped into the hall. Only to find myself face-to-face with Effie.
The petite blonde’s interest was piqued the moment she’d noticed him enter the aquarium. Positive he wasn’t supposed to return to Boston for another two days since she’d made the flight reservations herself, she not only wondered why he was back, but why he was there. If she’d learned nothing else over the last couple of months, she knew that Oliver Saxon was not a fan of football, nor was he one to care about mixing and mingling with high society, which only made his appearance at the gala even more perplexing. Unless her suspicions all this time had been right . . .
Moving swiftly, she followed him around the main exhibit area undetected, watching as he scanned the crowd, obviously looking for someone. He kept close to the wall, as if he too wanted to remain hidden while slinking around the perimeter of the room. When the lights flickered and Colin Cassidy took the stage with a couple of his teammates, Oliver stilled, causing her to do the same to keep a marginable distance between them.
Impatiently waiting for the standard thank-you-for-coming-out-to-support-us speech to end, the attractive young woman attempted to follow his line of sight, but due to the sheer number of people, she couldn’t. Frustrated, she tiptoed closer, hoping to get a better vantage point; however, just as she did, a hand shot out from behind her and caught her elbow.
“There you are, honey. Your dad and I have been looking everywhere for you,” her mother greeted her with a refined smile and an air kiss to each cheek. “Have you seen your brother yet? I heard he brought a date with him. Let’s hope it’s not that same girl he brought to the Silverstein’s Christmas party.”
“Hello, Mother,” she replied politely as she returned her sophisticated welcome, knowing she’d never hear the end of it if she didn’t act in the polished, cultured manner she’d been raised. “I did see him earlier, but that’s been an hour ago or so. And the date’s name is Miranda, not the same one from the party. She seems very lovely. I’m sure you’ll approve.”
The older woman nodded, but remained unconvinced. “I won’t hold my breath,” she murmured before waving at someone else she knew. “Oh look, there’s Patty Powell. I’m going to go say hi before she’s mobbed again. If I don’t run into you again tonight, I’ll see you at the game on Sunday.”
Fighting the urge to roll her eyes at her irritating mother, the young blonde hastily turned back to where Oliver had been standing, only to find the space empty. Shit! Shit! Shit! Frantically skimming the hundreds of heads in the room, she searched for his distinguishable long, dark locks, but came up empty. Back on the move in her four-inch, red-soled stilettos, her gaze landed across the room on the gorgeous, built-like-a-God quarterback who’d starred in her dreams long before he did on the football field. She paused briefly as their eyes met, and just like it did every time he flashed her that panty-melting grin, she felt like she was on top of the world.
He is why this is important, she reminded herself. If what she speculated to be true for some time now was actually happening, then all she would need to do is to provide him with the proof, and then Colin Cassidy would be all hers for the taking.
Focused on the end goal, she tossed her long hair over her shoulder and set off to find wherever Oliver Saxon had disappeared to.
And who he was with.
“as we made love,
you forgot my lips were
a loaded gun that would
destroy you
and my tongue,
the gun powder residue
leftover on your hips.
I walk down your body
in a sweat of destruction
and it’s all I can do to
sift through the rubble
of every previous fuck
that couldn’t handle
a barrel to the head.”
–Christopher Poindexter & Marisa B. Crane
Monroe
“I WISH YOU didn’t have to go,” Oliver complained from my bed, where he lounged in only his boxers intently watching me pack my overnight bag.
It was a little after eight in the morning on Sunday, and I was getting ready for my eleven-thirty flight to Denver to watch Colin play later that evening in the AFC Championship game. Thankfully, the two previous playoff games had been at home, so I hadn’t had to travel before then, and even though it was only for one night, neither Oliver nor I were very happy about my going. He’d kept me up into the wee hours of the morning, using his mouth and hands in all kinds of pleasurable ways to try to convince me to stay, but ultimately, he knew I had no choice.
Sighing, I dropped the travel-sized toiletries I was carrying from the bathroom into the bag then crawled up onto the mattress next to him, resting my head on his bare chest as he held me flush against him. “I wish I didn’t either, but tomorrow afternoon, I’ll be back in your arms, and it’ll be like I was never gone.”
He grunted while playfully swatting my butt. “I know you won’t say it, but God I hope they finally lose today. I’m ready for this all to be over with so we can finally just be us.”
I pressed my lips to his left pec and reveled in the sensation of his heart beating against my mouth, almost as if I could taste his love. “Soon, Ollie,” I promised in a hushed murmur. “It’ll all end soon.”
Truth be told, I was cheering for the Patriots to win for a couple of reasons. First, I truly wanted Colin to be able to live out one of his lifelong dreams of playing in a Super Bowl, and hopefully, coming out victorious. It was something he’d talked about since we first met—getting the opportunity to play the game he loved on the biggest possible stage—and I knew how much a chance like that would mean to him. Regardless of my feelings for Oliver, I still loved Colin and wanted the absolute best for him always.
The second reason was a little more selfish than the first. Aware of the high Colin would be riding if his team happened to bring home the prized Vince Lombardi trophy, I thought the much-needed sit-down I was planning with my husband would go over a little smoother if he’d just won, softening the blow of my confession. Colin would no doubt be hurt that I’d been involved with Oliver for over two months without telling him, but since we talked about him before, I didn’t think he’d be all that shocked. It was the whole asking for a divorce thing I knew wasn’t going to go over well. We had sworn to each other “to the very end,” and I still had every intention of keeping that promise as his best friend, confidant, and support system, but I wanted a real relationship with Oliver, and I couldn’t have that being legally married to someone else.
“I know, beautiful girl,” he assured me, kissing the top of my head, “but if you plan on making your flight in time, I’d suggest you get off this bed before I strip off all those clothes you just put on, tie you to the headboard, and keep you here forever.”
“In your wildest dr—”
Before I could get the words out, his fingers descended upon my ribcage and an all-out tickling war ensued. After five minutes of me squealing, squirming, and struggling under the mercy of his relentless fingers, I surrendered and collapsed into a fit of giggles. Another five and I was finally able to breathe normally, and just as I leaned over to kiss the man I loved more than I ever thought possible, my phone buzzed atop the nightstand where it sat on the charger.
Stretching across the mattress, I glanced at the number on the screen as I grabbed it, and instantly, my heart dropped. The on
ly reason someone would be calling me from Suffolk County Children’s Home this early on a Sunday morning would be because something bad had happened to one of my four. Before I ever answered the call, I knew which one it was.
“Hello, this is Monroe,” I said around the thick knot of dread in the back of my throat, my eyes trained on Oliver’s face.
“Monroe, it’s Dr. Prince,” the familiar voice greeted me, her tone solemn. “Sorry to bother you so early. I wasn’t even sure if you were in town or not, but I knew you’d want to know as soon as possible with something this serious.”
I choked back a sob, unconsciously grabbing Oliver’s hand and squeezing. “Know what? How serious? Who?”
“Heather found JoJo unconscious in her bed around seven this morning, and once the morning advisor was notified, she discovered any empty bottle of Tylenol PM in her nightstand, as well as a Ziploc baggie with some other pills in it too,” she explained. “I hate to speculate, but it appears to be a suicide attempt. She was rushed to Boston Children’s Hospital, which is where I am with her now, and after they performed a quick evaluation in the ER, they’re moving her to ICU. It’s not looking good.”
An onslaught of emotions surged through me, and unfortunately, anger surfaced first. “Why in the hell am I just now finding out about this, Jessica? I should’ve been contacted as soon as the 911 call ended. She’s my fucking kid, and you’re telling me you didn’t think to let me know until the point they admitted her to Intensive Care?!”
“Monroe, I know you’re upset—”
“Hell yes, I’m upset!” I screamed, jumping off the bed with Oliver hot on my heels. “But I don’t have time to list all the ways right now, because I needed to be on my way to the hospital a fucking hour ago!”
I didn’t even bother ending the call as I slung the phone across the room and watched it shatter into hundreds of pieces against the wall. Spinning around, I found Oliver already dressed in the jeans and thermal he’d worn over the night before and putting his shoes on, acting before I said a word to him.
“Grab your keys and boots, baby. Let’s go,” he announced with a stern expression. “I’m driving your car, and you can catch me up with what’s going on as you give me directions to the hospital.”
“But—” I tried to argue, but he was having nothing of it.
Framing my face with his hands, he lowered his forehead to mine and pinned me with his arresting gaze. “There’s no way I’m letting you get behind a wheel in the state you’re in, so don’t even think about fighting me on this. Not to mention, I love you too damn much to allow you to face this alone. Remember . . . you and me? We’re a we.”
In record time from my house to the hospital, the second the transmission shifted to park, Oliver and I fled the car and sprinted inside to the ICU floor. Words were scarce once I’d filled him in with what had happened with JoJo, though the steady stream of tears hadn’t stopped since I’d gotten the call. So many questions raced through my mind. Why would she do this? What happened since I’d seen her just the day before at lunch and she seemed so happy? Had the progress I thought I was making with her all been a farce? Did someone hurt her?
But unfortunately, I had no answers.
A large U-shaped nurse’s station awaited us when we exited the elevators onto the seventh floor, and without hesitation, I marched straight up to the first woman in scrubs I saw.
“Hi, I’m Monroe Cassidy, here for JoJo Merritt. Can you tell me where she is? Is she okay?” I blurted out, my good manners gone by the wayside.
As if she had all the time in the world, as if kids weren’t fighting for their lives just beyond the locked double doors behind her, she smiled and nodded then glanced down at the computer screen in front of her. “Good morning, Ms. Cassidy. I see you have been included on the list of authorized visitors for Miss Merritt, so I’m just going to need to make a copy of your ID and then I can buzz you through.”
Reaching down to grab my wallet from my purse, I gasped and stumbled backward when I realized I didn’t have it with me.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Oliver asked from behind me.
“My purse!” I cried, my eyes wide with horror. “I forgot my purse at home in our rush to leave. I need my ID.”
“Okay, okay, just calm down,” he soothed, placing his warm, strong hand at the small of my back. “Let’s ask if they can make an exception just this once. Surely someone in this place knows who you are and can vouch for you.”
I nodded mindlessly as my chest began to painfully constrict, but said nothing. Oliver approached the nurse and explained the situation to her, and even though she kept the smile plastered across her face, she shook her head and said, “I’m sorry, but it’s hospital policy. No one is allowed into the ICU area unless we have a copy of their identification in the patient’s chart.”
“But she’s Monroe Cassidy! Her husband is Colin Cassidy for chrissakes. You have to know she is who she says she is,” he contended, firmly pounding his fist on the counter with annoyance.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t care if she’s the First Lady. These rules are non-negotiable for the safety of our patients. Once Ms. Cassidy has her ID, I’ll be happy to escort her back and alert Miss Merritt’s charge nurse of her arrival.”
Defeated at the finality of her words, I clung to Oliver’s arm and bawled into his chest, my ability to think straight shot.
“Shh, baby,” he whispered while leading me over to the deserted waiting room. “Don’t worry; we’ll get you back there shortly. You stay here in case Dr. Prince or anyone else comes out, and I’ll run to your house to get your purse. Do you know where it is?”
I cried harder. “I don’t want you to go. Please don’t leave me here by myself. What if she dies? What if they come out and say she’s gone? I need you here with me.”
Oliver held me close to his side as he dug his phone out of his pocket. “What about Effie? Didn’t you mention she or Seth had a key to your place?”
“Seth does, but I don’t know his number off the top of my head. It was programmed in the phone that I destroyed.”
He thought for a minute, then said, “Okay, well let me call Effie and see if she can get ahold of him or get the key. Where’s your purse at when they get inside?”
“In my closet, hanging on the hook in the closet,” I blubbered, not even thinking about specifying Seth needed to be the one to go in my closet.
Absentmindedly kissing the top of my head, he squeezed my hand for support and then made the call. Less than thirty minutes later, with no more information than we had before, Effie and Seth emerged from the elevators, looking like they’d both freshly rolled out of bed, but most importantly, she was carrying my purse.
“Oh, my God, Monroe, I’m so sorry! I can’t believe this. Tell me what I can do to help!” she exclaimed as she handed me the small black cross-body then glanced inquisitively over at Oliver.
Seth spoke with his actions first, wrapping me in a big bear hug and kissing the top of my head. “Please, Roe girl, talk to us. How can we help?” he urged after releasing me.
“I uh,” I sniffled and wiped my wet cheeks with the back of my hand, “I haven’t called Colin yet. I threw my phone and it broke, and I just haven’t thought about it. Plus, he doesn’t need this today. I don’t want him to worry about anything but the game.”
“Your flight to Denver was scheduled for eleven-thirty, right?” Effie asked as she grabbed her phone and started typing on the screen. “Let me get that cancelled for you and then we can decide what to do about Colin. He’ll be just as worried if you don’t show, so I think you need to let him know something.”
Nodding, I stepped back and rummaged through my purse for my wallet. “Okay, I’m gonna go back there now and see what I can find out. Do you guys mind waiting here for a little bit? I’d rather wait to call him once I know more about her condition.”
The three of them all agreed, and after I provided my license and signed the visitor log, I ma
de my way back to where JoJo was, praying the entire way. Dr. Prince was the only one in the room with her when I quietly opened the door and let myself in. Gratefully, it appeared as if she’d already forgiven me for my outburst on the phone earlier as she rushed to greet me.
“Monroe, you’re here! Thank God! I’ve been trying to call you!” she whisper-shouted as she enfolded her arms around me. “I’m so sorry about everything this morning. It was all so chaotic. I should’ve called you first.”
Waving off her apology, I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it. I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way. I just freaked out and my phone took the brunt of it. Now tell me what you know so far.”
For the next several minutes, she rattled off a bunch of medical terminology and explained what all of the machines, wires, and tubes were for as I stared down at the frail, lost, comatose young girl who I’d grown to love like my own child over the past few years, all boiling down to the fact that JoJo had purposely swallowed a toxic amount of acetaminophen and a handful of Xanax, from what the toxicology report showed, in a blatant attempt to end her own life. And though she’d been unsuccessful at her ultimate goal for the time being, she’d managed to seriously mess up all kinds of things internally, most importantly her liver and kidneys, which were failing.
Devastated doesn’t even begin to describe the anguish and sorrow I felt that morning. I was so angry, so hurt, so confused. How could she do this? Why did she feel that was the only answer? Had I not done enough?
“Don’t blame yourself for this, Monroe,” she whispered as if she could read my thoughts. “It’s the natural reaction we all have, but her decision to do this was hers, and it had nothing to do with what you did or didn’t do. The doctor will be back soon with more information on what the next step is as they try to detoxify her body and what we can expect. I need to step outside to make a few phone calls, and I’m sure you’d like a few minutes alone.”