Page 61 of Texting My Secret CEO
I click send, then see the status turn toread.
Jack: I’m here, Dakota.
His words are the best thing he could’ve said.
Dakota: I hated it, even as a little kid. Even before I knew that it was wrong, something in me rebelled against it. Then I met Mara and her cousin, Noah. Noah was younger than us, but he was so, so perceptive. He had autism, and it got really bad sometimes. He’d stim for an hour straight. But after, he’d say things that were so simple, so direct, it stripped everything away.
I pause, coughing back a sob as I see his happy, bright face in my mind.
Dakota: As we got older, Noah began mentioning how wrong it was. He said my dad had no right to be so involved in my life. Not in those words, but it was enough. He and Mara helped me to distance myself from his control, to make my own identity. If we went to a party and Dad started berating me, calling me names, talking about my body and sick things like that, they were always there.
I hit send, then wait anxiously. My feet insisting tapping against my mattress.
Jack: Christ, Dakota. That’s awful. I’m so sorry you had to experience that. At least you found your people at the right time. I don’t know what consolation that offers. I don’t know if I can offer anything. Except listening more.
Dakota: That’s all I want.
Jack: I’m here, Dakota.
I smile and sob at the same time, my throat going tight.
Dakota: Noah got sick when we were in our late teens. Unfortunately, he passed away. He’s the one who encouraged me to finally start streaming the game we’d all fallen in love with. Your game, Jack. He empowered me to make that decision. It was his last gift to me.
Jack: I’m so sorry. I wish I was there so I could give you a hug.
Dakota: I bet you’re wondering what relevance this has to the boat.
Jack: No.
Dakota: You’re not curious?
Jack: I could be wrong, but it makes sense to me already.
Dakota: Go on.
A minute passes with three dots on the screen, telling me he’s writing a message. Each moment feels like an eternity, stretching.
Finally, his message arrives.
Jack: This is how I see it, beautiful. Your father was a controlling, abusive POS. Men like that don’t behave that way from the beginning. Otherwise, they’d be alone forever. So, I bet he could turn on the charm, act like an angel when he needed to. He probably took you on days out or bought you stuff. That messed with your head, because that man was a monster, and yet there he was, being all nice like all that monstrous shit never happened. And on the boat, that all came rushing back. That’s why you mentioned love bombing. You were terrified I was going to take your agency away. You saw that cove and it was like a dream come true, then came the pressure, the what if… what if this man flips a switch, like your father did?
A pause, another message.
Jack: Or I’m literally mansplaining your emotions to you. In which case, tell me to STFU.
I laugh-cry again, heat swelling inside of me, warmth and affection and somehow, all good things. It’s like when he noticed little things on the stream, things no one else ever has… but times a million.
Dakota: That’s exactly it.
I look at my screen through tear-blurred eyes.
Dakota: It’s like you’ve read my mind. Seriously. How did you do that?
Jack: My father was very similar. He was away all the time, but when he was home, it was like he had to act like the big, impressive tough guy to make up for it. That was why my mother wanted her own business. And why its failure hit her so hard. I hate that I ever made you think I’d be like that. I wasn’t trying to trick you with that cove, I swear.
Dakota: I know that now. I think I knew it then, even.
Jack: We can’t change our programming. We can recognize it’s wrong. It’s not helping us. We might behave differently. But the sad fact is, it will always be there. I’ll have days when I’m a grumpy prick, and you might sometimes want to slap me for buying you flowers. I can live with that if you can.
