Sugar Baby Beautiful by J. J. McAvoy
“Shouldn’t I ask first before you offer anything?”
“Theo.” Sighing, I brushed my hair back. “I’m not—”
“I make my own choices. If I wanted to leave, I could have the moment you ran away from the gala. I didn’t have to come to you. I did because this thing—you needing help—isn’t who you are. The Felicity I know snores, may have an addiction to wine, is the most hardheaded women I’ve ever met in my life, and is feisty and unbelievably beautiful. When I’m with her, I’m the happiest I can be and laugh at the dumbest things. I go from being this cold asshole of a person to a walking, talking cliché. I just keep thinking those were just the first few weeks I knew her. Imagine where I’ll be with her at the end of the year? The only thing stopping us from getting there is this one thing.”
Wiping my eyes, I nodded. “Well, it’s a pretty big thing, something you shouldn’t have to deal with—”
“Felicity.” He walked up to the edge of my bed and leaned in close. “When I said you’re mine, I meant it. Remember? I say what I mean. I chose scars and all. If it were me, if I were the one who had to be here, would you walk away?”
“No.” I didn’t have to think about it. I wouldn’t just leave him. I could accept him being the one with flaws, he was perfect as he was, and he wouldn’t have been holding me back. But I felt like I was this leech on his life.
“Do me a favor and just trust, and promise me you won’t run anymore. Not from this treatment and not from me.”
“I promise.”
He held my hands, and I knew then he was the only person alive who could break my heart, because I was completely in his keeping, and it scared the hell out of me.
“Mr. Darcy.” The nurse came back in. “We need you to leave now.”
Theo kissed my forehead then my hands before letting go. “I’ll see you in twenty-one days. In the meantime, I'll take a page from Nicholas Sparks, and I’ll write to you.”
“I’ll write back.”
He gave me one last look before leaving. I waited, not moving, for God only knows how long before I fell back onto the bed, tears spilling from my eyes.
Sometimes it felt like the only thing holding me together was my skin.
Day Five
9:17 a.m.
“Open for me,” the nurse said to me, and I opened my mouth wider, lifting my tongue for her to check. “Thank you. How are you feeling, Ms. Ford—”
“Harper, my last name is Harper,” I replied, reaching for my notebook again and curling up into a ball on couch. She frowned, glancing down at her chart.
“What do you think your name is?”
I sighed. She thought I didn’t know who I was anymore. My name was legally Felicity Ford. Part of me wanted to say my name was Angelina Jolie, but the last thing I needed was more medication and group therapy.
“My name is Felicity Harper and not Ford because I’m no longer on speaking terms with my father, not because I don’t know who I am.”
She gave me a fake smile. “I’ll make a note of that in your chart.”
“Thank you. When can I talk to someone who doesn’t have a medical license? Like friends? I have letters I want to send.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Ford, but no contact with the outside until your first twenty-one days are over.”
I wanted to scream. But instead I took out my notebook and pen and I wrote. I doubted he would ever get my letters, but I’d promised away. So I wrote anything I could think of. However, because of the new medication, my hands started to shake halfway in. Dropping the pen for a moment, I hugged my hand to my chest.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?” Glancing over to the couch, Mark laid there, reading one of the magazines.
“You’re not real,” I replied, looking away from him, but Cleo appeared in the bed right next to me.
“What is real? If you can see us, if you can feel us, then aren’t we real?” she asked me.
Shaking my head, I tried to concentrate. “Please go away!”
“Felicity, we don’t belong here, and you know it.” Mark sat up. “You aren’t crazy. Everyone else is.”
“No. Stop. Go. You are not real. Neither of you is real. Why are you here? I took the meds!” I screamed at them. I felt sick. I couldn’t go anywhere I wanted anymore. I couldn’t dance or drink or walk along the beach because I kept seeing them! I gave it all up so they would go away, and here they were, torturing me again.
“Felicity, clam down!” Cleo jumped off the bed, rushing to me, but I pushed her away. What was worse was that I could feel her flesh. She still felt real… like me. “If you don’t calm down, they will come—”
Just as she said it, two nurses showed up, walking to me slowly like I was some animal! Like I would jump at them.
“I’m fine.” I tried to remain calm. “I have a headache, and I’m a little frustrated that I can’t talk to anyone.”
“Would you like us to call your doctor? I’m sure he would be happy to speak to you.”
“No, it’s all right. Thanks,” I muttered, getting back on the bed. Cleo and Mark sat on either side of me.
“The moment they know you see us, you know what will happen, right? More drugs, more shaking, more of this room. You’ll end up living here forever.” Cleo sighed, but I would not answer. If I stopped talking, maybe they would leave.
“It’s not that easy,” Mark replied, placing his arm on my shoulder. “And this place can’t help.”
Day Fourteen
12:10 p.m.
“Felicity, can I see what you’re writing?” my doctor, Dr. Butler, asked, but I shook my head, not even bothering to look up from my desk.
“Why?”
“It’s the one thing that’s for me. The one thing no else gets input on. No one can judge it… so no.”
“Is that what you think we’re doing? Judging you?”
I spun around in the chair and smiled, though I didn’t want to. “Yes. You are. You’re trying to see if I’m normal. Do I still have hallucinations, am I about to have a breakdown. You write it all down and judge, and based on that, you decide whether I’m like everyone else or I’m defective. All I’m doing is writing a letter to a guy. I have no one else but this one man, and I can’t talk to him and I can’t see him and I can’t give him these letters, but I’m going to write them anyway because I’m leaving here next week.”
“Felicity—”
“My throat hurts from talking so much. Excuse me for not answering.” I glanced back to the book in front of me.
“He’s going to need ice for that burn.” Mark laughed and tried not to smile.
“Felicity, you won’t be able to leave until we start to talk about your issues.”
“My issues were a lack of medication, and we’ve talked about that, so I think I’m good,” I said.
“This guy really can’t take a hint.” Cleo played with the blinds. “You remember that teenager at the high school who kept coming up and asking you for a date, what was his name?”
“Andrew.” Shit, I answered her.
“What’s that? Who is Andrew?” Dr. Butler asked.
I shook my head. “I said aren’t you. As in aren’t you going to check up on your other patients? Someone was yelling before.”
“Does the yelling bother you?”
I stopped wanting to ask if he was joking.
“Seriously? Who gives these people their licenses?” Mark laughed. “Of course yelling bothers her. It’s yelling, you moron!”
I nodded in agreement… fuck.
“Is something funny, Felicity?”
“Just your questions. Can I get back to writing now?”
I didn’t wait for his reply. Instead, I tried to focus, ignoring how hard it was to write when my hand shook more each day.
This place was making me worse, not better.
CHAPTER TWENTY
I’m Not Crazy
Theo
Tomorrow would make three weeks since Felicity had returned to Crossroads. I hoped to
At first I’d tried not to think about it or her to stop myself from going crazy. I cared more now than I had before, which was why I found myself at the New York State Executive Mansion to meet Governor Daniel Ford. He was hosting a donors’ event while his daughter was suffering without him. He was trying to raise money since he was hoping to run for president next year. The fact I had to pay to listen to this guy answer questions from other wealthy people who hoped he shared common interests with was painful just to think about.
“Mr. Darcy.” A slim man with salt-and-pepper hair stepped forward, hands outstretched. Beside him was a woman with short blonde hair, dressed in pink with pearls around her neck. Similar to the two daughters beside her, both of them looked just like their father, dark hair and blue eyes. They were all picture perfect.
“Thank you for having me, Governor. I’m sorry I’m so late.” I forced a smile, shaking his hand.
“Nonsense. Everyone is just making small talk. The other guests are already in the parlor.” His wife smiled and pointed the way. Following them, I noticed there were no pictures of Felicity in the house. There were dozens of them displayed everywhere, on vacations, with celebrities, and even in Times Square at New Years. Felicity had been erased. It was even worse than if she were dead. It was like she’d never existed to them.
“Mr. Darcy?” The mayor shook my hand. “Welcome back to New York.”
“Thank you. It’s exactly how I remembered.” Filled with rats.
The mayor gave a loud, bogus, and annoying laugh, still holding on to my hand. “Last time you where here your company threw one of the biggest benefit concerts the city had ever seen. Tourists flew in from every corner of the globe. It was like New Years all over again.”
“I’m guessing you’re hoping it will happen again,” I said, taking a seat at the dining table.
“A mayor can dream.”
“Sorry, mayor, nothing is in the works yet. I’m here for the governor.”
There were quite a few people already here as well, but I didn’t care. My main focus was them, the happy-go-lucky, all-American Ford family.
“As you all know, I, with the support of my loving family, and hopefully your support as well, hope to be your president this time next year.” Daniel stood up in front of the fireplace, holding a glass of champagne. “
Not a chance in hell.
“I must thank my wife and daughters, who have filled me with so much pride—”
“Governor Ford, aren’t you missing a daughter?” I questioned, taking a glass of champagne from the server’s tray.
“I’m sorry—”
“You first daughter, Felicity.” I smiled before drinking. His eyes widened for a second, as did his wife’s.
“You have another daughter?” someone asked.
He nodded. “Yes, Felicity, with my first wife who, as you know, died sixteen years ago. She’s somewhere in Los Angeles now, trying to become an actress. She wants to do it all on her own—”
“Actually,” I cut through his bullshit, “she’s a dancer. One of my company’s dancers. She opened at my entertainment gala two weeks ago. It was amazing. In fact, she’s the talk of the west. I’m surprised you haven’t gone to see her yet.”
“Sadly, the governor has been busy, but we are all so proud of her.” His wife smiled brightly beside him. “Honestly, she has so much talent. We hope she eventually comes back home. Mr. Rogers, your son is also in California, right?”
I didn’t say anything as they quickly deflected. Governor Ford’s eyes met mine, and I drank the rest of the champagne, rising to my feet, knowing from how his nose flared and how tense his fists were that he would follow me out.
“Thank you,” I said to the maid, who opened the front door for me.
“Mr. Darcy, you only just arrived,” he said, standing at the doorway behind me.
“I came to see what type of man you are, and I saw. Why stay any longer?”
“I’m not sure what you think you know—”
“I know your daughter has spent eight years with no contact from you. I know you basically shipped her off the moment you realized she was sick. And I know you seem to have all but forgotten her for the new family you’ve built for yourself,” I said, facing him.
He clenched his jaw. “Felicity is a troubled young woman who needed—”
“Her father not to kick her across the country at sixteen and turn his back on her.”
“How dare you judge me!” he snapped. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to deal with people like them? I was married to her mother for fourteen years, and then three years after we were married, she was diagnosed with schizophrenia. I should have seen it. She was often depressed and her moods would randomly change. The worst was when she had no apathy for anything, not even her own child! Came home one day, and no one had fed or changed Felicity for hours! Where was her mother? Smoking in the backyard! You have no idea the hell that life was. The insomnia, lack of hygiene, lack of appetite—she was dying in front of me every goddamned day. When she died, I was relieved. Every day did not feel like a battle. Then Felicity started to act the same, and I could not do it again. I couldn’t!”
I couldn’t help but picture the life he had just painted and how Felicity lived it. She got a poor set of cards to deal with from the beginning.
“She’s your daughter. When it goes bad, when there is nothing left but her crying in a lonely apartment, you should be the one thing she can count on. Isn’t that what it means to be a parent? What is it with you people, thinking you matter more than your children? So it’s okay to abandon them because it’s hard? Everything you said sounds horrible, but not for you. For her mother, who couldn’t help it. And for Felicity to spend six years believing she had loving, caring friends and then for me to come along and rip that out of her hands.”
My driver opened the door for me, and Governor Ford called out to me.
“Don’t be all high and mighty. Now you have two choices: stay with her, since you obviously love her, and deal with everything I had to. Then you’ll understand what I mean when I say I couldn’t watch her like that. Or you’ll be like me and be another man who has to walk away. Either you suffer with her, or she suffers alone. Either way she still suffers.”
Saying nothing, I got into the car. When the door closed, I punched the front of my seat, “Goddamn it!”
At first I was in shock. Then I wanted to make sure Felicity got help. Now I was just so fucking pissed off and confused.
How did it get this bad so quickly?
Felicity
1:15 p.m.
I could deal with the horrible medicine that made me groggy. I could even handle all the healthy food. The no-wine part I was even starting to calm down over. But therapy was the worst.
“Felicity.” Dr. Butler, an old and large man, who only had hair on the sides of his head and wore the most annoying bow ties, called out to me. He had been my doctor when I was sixteen as well. I looked out the window, staring at the rose bushes. I really wanted to go back to fifteen days ago… when I’d thought I was just a normal girl with some baggage.
“Felicity?”
“I’m not crazy,” I said to him, still not giving him my attention. “I know Mark and Cleo aren’t real. I know I never killed anyone. I’m not crazy.”
“The meds are—”
“No—urgh!” Never yell was one of the many lessons I’d learned here. Taking a deep breath, I faced him. “I hate the medication. It makes me feel like I have no control over my body. But I take them anyway. The medication isn’t the reason I know I’m not crazy. I remember my mom. I’m not like her.”
“Schizophrenia is different for every person—”
“I’m not insane.”
“Felicity, having schizophrenia does not mean you are insane. It means you’re sic
“No, I can’t remember.” I just wanted to run away.
He put the book on the table. “Look.”
“William Shakespeare’s…” I paused before saying the next two names. “Antony and Cleopatra.”
“You took two characters from a Shakespearean tragedy and made them into your best friends. You don’t think it’s important to know why?”
“No, because they aren’t real,” I said, even as I watched Mark pull a book off the shelf behind Dr. Butler’s head.
“Marc Antony is a cool name. Besides, for all he knows, I could have easily been for Marco Antonio. Did you hear Vivir Mi Vida. It gives me chills,” Mark said, salsa dancing beside Dr. Butler.
“Can I be Jennifer Lopez, then?” Cleo laughed, joining him. “Elizabeth Taylor killed Cleopatra for me.”
“I thought so too.” Mark spun her around and into his arms.
“Felicity?”
“Huh?” I glanced away from them and back to him.
He turned around. “What was it you were concentrating on?”
“Nothing. I saw a book I thought Theo would like, and thinking of him kind of took me off to another head space.” I lied with a smile. When I first came here, I’d wanted to get better and fix myself, but no one listened to me, and I remembered why I’d hated this place so much when I was young. It made me feel as if I were less than a person. I followed their rules, took their medication, but I still saw Mark and Cleo, now more than ever. But if I told them that, they wouldn’t let me leave.
This was not the place for me. I wanted to go home.
“Why don’t we talk about Mr. Darcy?”
“I don’t want to talk to you about him.” I sighed, wrapping my arms around myself. I tried not to think about him because it just left me feeling horrible.
I had realized two important things in the last two weeks I had been here. I was in love with Theodore Darcy. I knew that because the only person I could think about was him. I didn’t want to undo anything I had been through because it had led me right to him. He knew how to make me laugh. He knew everything about me and accepted it. For the first time in a long time, I felt safe in someone else’s arms, even as my world crumbled. The second thing I had realized was now more than ever, I was no good for him, but I truly wanted to be. I was scared the more time I spent in here, the less he’d remember me, care about me.