by Leanne Davis
Fine. Damion appeared to be a good dad to her. He should be. He has to have some redeeming qualities.
Now, I’ve done my duty as far as I’m concerned. I won’t need to see them again until Dayshia’s next birthday. Other holidays? I’ll skip those and try to see Dayshia whenever my mom has her. Or maybe I could arrange to spend time with her alone. I know in my gut, which annoys me, that Damion would leap at the chance of getting that kind of interest from me.
I pull the door handle on my car when a thump and a movement startle me. Abandoning my entrenched thoughts, I glance up and throw my head back as I groan. Claudia. She saw me leave and she ran after me. Now she is grabbing the passenger door handle.
“I’m not going home. So forget it.”
“I’ll go with you then. You shouldn’t be alone.”
“Why? Because being strong-armed by you is so much better for me?” Snarling would be a nice description for my tone.
She doesn’t wince or back down. “Yes. You did well just by coming here, hard as it was. It’s like ripping off the scab of a deep wound. Or maybe it’s more like putting the first stitch into a really deep wound.”
I roll my eyes at her chatter. She often gets her sayings wrong and then pops up with the right one later on. I flop into the driver’s seat. “Get another ride home. I don’t want to be with you.”
“I want… I should be with you. I made you come here. I should hang with you.”
“You really don’t want to. I can’t… no… I don’t want to be nice right now, Claudia. Okay? I’m trying not to ruin it. Just let me be.”
She sighs as she drops into the passenger seat. “I appreciate that you’re aware of what your mood is. I also understand it, and I can handle it. And I don’t want you to be alone or you’ll dwell in it.”
“Alone? Who said anything about being alone? I’m planning to get drunk and find someone to fuck. So unless you want to join us—”
“That won’t help.” Her tone is dull, quiet.
“It won’t hurt now, will it? Tell me, Claudia, what can hurt me if I’m with a woman who hasn’t met my brother or chosen him over me?”
She flinches. I mean for her to feel uncomfortable. I am being intentionally awful. Maybe as punishment for making me come here or perhaps it’s an irrational desire to inflict some of my churning anger towards someone else.
I lean forward, resting my forehead on the steering wheel. I’m tired. It’s exhausting to be nice and humbly accepting. I’m tired of pretending my heart wasn’t ripped out and then shoved back into my chest, and it doesn’t feel like it fits anymore. It feels too small. Shrunken and shriveled and useless. I’m not the man I once was. I know that. I just want her to let me enjoy my misery alone. She’s too damn cheerful, and she wants too much from me. I can’t give her anything. I lack the energy to even express that in a civil manner now. Can’t she take my harsh words as warning? As the truth. This is how I feel. This is real. This is me for now. Now, as in today. Why can’t she just let me have that right? That space? That freedom?
A taut silence fills the small space. I feel pressure on my bicep. Her hand is on me, and she is squeezing my arm. “I want to be here with you. No matter how horrible you are or what you say to insult me. I can handle it.”
I flip my head up so I can see her. “Why? Why do you want to handle me? What do you want from me?”
She flinches. “I don’t want anything from you, Devon. I’m your friend, and I see your pain. I want to… alleviate it.”
“This doesn’t alleviate it.”
“Ignoring it and pretending it’s not there won’t alleviate it either. I’m looking past this moment, and this day. I am looking long-term and seeing you learning to alleviate it and live with it. I see you working towards forgiving them. Not for their sakes, but for your own. And I think this anger is just part of the process.”
“And does this process include humiliating me in front of my family? Making me watch Damion enjoying everything that should have been mine?”
She struggles to keep her face serene and swallows. “You think that should be yours? Celebrating your baby’s first birthday with Ireena? She didn’t even want children. Neither did you. You two intended to… what? Earn enough money to buy anything you wanted? But that in there,” she points at the house, “was not part of the future you even once pictured with Ireena Monroe. I know that for sure, because you forget that I was there, too, Devon. I know what she was. I know what you were like with her and what you thought your life would be.”
Her words stab me with the truth, but I still refuse to back down. “Fine. There was no baby in my plans, just a marriage and being together. There was no thought of her fucking my brother either.” My voice rises over the word “brother.” She flinches when she recognizes the sudden anger.
“I know. I know that’s the part that ruined you. But your anger is ruining you even more. Don’t let her do this to you.”
“It isn’t just her. You can’t let my brother off the hook, Claudia. No matter how much everyone wants to and how much easier it would be if I just skipped over that part. Forget it. I can’t just let it go. This family gathering was a one-time wonder, thanks to your bitchy threats. Do it again, and I will quit on my own. With the snap of my fingers. I refuse to let you threaten me again with that shit.”
She glances down, her cheeks turning bright pink as only Claudia can blush. I don’t envy her pale skin and its tendency to show her embarrassment. Depending on the situation, it is such a graphic representation of her inner thoughts. “It was on the spur of the moment, and I never meant for it to be a viable threat. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it. But you also know that I’d never follow through for something so personal. So maybe deep down you really wanted to go, and you used it as the nudge you needed. You pretended you had to. Because you also knew you needed to come here. For your mom and dad, your grandparents, and that innocent baby. But also for you. So blame me. Go ahead and be angry and bitter at me because I can handle it, but Dayshia can’t. But don’t deny that it gave you the excuse you needed to come here. It’s a start.”
“Wonderful. In all my mental health glory, I now feel like shit. Could you leave me alone? Let me go so I can live this new reality?”
“No. I’m coming with you.”
Fine. I don’t answer her. Popping upright, I start my car and pull out onto the street, but it’s way too fast and aggressive. I sneer at her startled response. Good. Have fun. She chose to come along for the ride.
Where could this night lead? Well, that is the beauty of it—I never know anymore.
Chapter 3
CLAUDIA
I didn’t know the confrontation with his brother and Ireena would be so drastic for Devon. Even after all this time, but he had to face it. He has to get to a point and begin to let it go or find some way to live with it. Not for the sake of Damion and Ireena. Oh, no. Fuck them. Devon needed to find forgiveness and peace for his own serenity. I wanted it for him. I wanted him to return to the Devon he used to be, and always was to me. This guy? The man who couldn’t remember the name of the woman he just had sex with? The man who contemplated not going to his only niece’s birthday? The man who was always so offhand and careless with me? That was never like Devon before. Not the way he is now.
But the confrontation turned out to be far more intense than I ever pictured. I’m sure Devon wasn’t fully aware of the family’s apprehension. They were nearly holding their breaths in a collective hope that Devon wouldn’t go off on Damion like a faulty firework. The situation could have gone either way. I can’t believe Devon and Damion have allowed it to fester so long that it has come to this. Ireena remained close to Dayshia, poised to scoop her up if the two men exploded into violence. There was a moment when I too tensed up. I was ready to spring forward and grab Devon if he physically went after Damion, even with harsh words. In that split second, I wondered if this could be the push Devon needed to move past his anger and rage. Seeing his bro
ther again might jog fond memories and remind him of what he’s missing with the absence of his brother.
But after seeing just a split second of them being together in the same room, I knew I was wrong. I should have realized the depth of Devon’s emotional wounds. I should have let him be. Now, I’m stuck with him acting like this and the knowledge that I provoked it. I can’t leave him this way. I don’t relish the next few hours. I will have to endure his pissed-off attitude and insulting comments to me. But I must admit that I bullied him into doing this. I evidently pushed beyond what was tolerable to him. I had no right to barge into his room this morning. I shouldn’t have even known about his one-night stand, much less that they didn’t remember each other’s names.
He drives way too fast. Shifting the sports car by using far too much clutch, he deliberately tries to squeal the tires on take-off and around all the corners. I refuse to comment because I know he is doing it deliberately. He thinks it’s all for my benefit, but I know it’s because of what Damion and Ireena did to him.
He enters the most populated street in downtown Vancouver and slides into a parking spot before glancing at me and raising his eyebrows. I don’t respond but simply stare back blankly before I grab the door handle to get out. He seems a bit bothered by my refusal to comment on his speed, not to mention his crazy driving habits. My stomach feels queasy like I just endured a cruise on a stormy sea rather than driving down a rural highway. But I smile anyway, denying him the satisfaction of knowing he made me feel nauseated.
I follow him into the bar he chooses. It’s an upscale place with soft lantern lighting and flickering candles in each table’s centerpiece. Women wear cocktail dresses while the men wear suits. It’s a rich person’s pick-up place. Devon doesn’t do anything cheaply. Not even get drunk.
We sit down, and a woman with red hair piled on top of her head approaches us. She sets down cocktail napkins and little drink menus. Devon doesn’t hesitate and immediately orders his drink of choice. I quietly order the house wine. We wait longer than usual. The place is crowded since it’s Saturday night. Music plays from the ceiling speakers. I like the ambiance and imagine myself on a date with him, both of us enjoying it instead of me staring at a guy who is miserable. Not only about his family and another woman, but also at me for my role in making sure he saw them.
The drinks come, and I am still waiting for Devon to speak to me. He stares around us. Shamelessly scanning the single women in the bar, his primary target, he purposely ignores me. I nurse my one drink during the next few hours. Slipping his car keys off the table and into my purse, I intend to see him home. He drinks way too much, even for him. Chatting with the couple next to us, he damn near listens to their life story. He can be so charming when he wants to be. Passing me off as his friend, he openly flirts with the man’s wife. She fails to hide the glee she feels in capturing his attention. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. He all but starts groping the woman in front of her husband.
After only a few hours in, I get it. When they slip Devon their key, he nods. Everyone is smiling. They get up and head towards the bar.
He leans closer to me, his eyes glowing with too much drink.
“They’re swingers.” The words come out too loud. It’s so shocking to my vanilla-flavored personality. How did Devon pick up on it? I’ll never understand how the last two hours were spent working up to swinging with this couple. I glare hard at Devon as I begin to get a glimpse of the full extent of his games this evening. He’s setting me up as his partner. He’s perfectly willing to “exchange” me as if I’m a willing partner that is eager to… what? We’re like interchangeable socks on someone else’s feet. Sure. Have fun with that if that’s what makes you happy. But it’s not for me, and Devon damn well knows it. I get shocked easily, and I would never swing even if I liked the couple. I slap his bicep. “Damn it, Devon! You knew all along.”
He grins a little too wide. As the couple pays their tab, he begins snickering. His head rolls back, and he flashes his teeth before he laughs at my unwitting participation in setting up this “date” of his.
“How could you not pick up on it? She nearly licked me, and he was half rubbing himself on you. Come on. Let’s do it. She’s hot. He’s handsome, right? The classic good looks with the dark hair and all that.”
I jerk my hand away from him and snap, “He’s not my type.” I mutter, even as I know by his smirk he has no interest in them. He’s trying to provoke and annoy me.
“Why?”
“Because I like men who are faithful. I’m not doing this. You pay for the drinks since you used me for this. I’ll meet you at the car.” I’m out of there like a gunshot, and my insides are seething at the asshole. Nice—he made me the butt of his joke, all the while knowing I would never “swing” with a married couple. Not to mention how old they were. Well into their late forties. Attractive, well preserved for their age, sure, but still old. I can only hope it mellowed Devon’s epic anger. I bristle inside when I realize that he set me up for this. He knew I’d never do that. He was amusing himself at my expense the entire time, drinking himself stupid and all the while intending to deliberately anger me.
He flops clumsily into the passenger side of the car. I cautiously pull out onto the empty street. I drive far more carefully than how he drove us here. He smirks, his eyes foggy and glazed over with drink. “They were so sorry to hear you weren’t into them. Here’s their business card if you change your mind.” He grins wider as he flips it into the console between us. Grinding my teeth, I am seething. I don’t say another word all the way back to his condo, which is only a few miles down the river from downtown. I park in the same spot where this long, emotional day started. I get out, determined to see him inside, safe and sound. He’s a staggering drunk. I don’t like it. If it were only one time, it wouldn’t matter, but I know for a fact this is how he spends his weekends now. What if it turns out not to be just a temporary coping mechanism? What if this is the way Devon plans to live? As a drunken sot? Always the life of the party even when there’s no party. He thinks drinking at upscale bars and hanging around snooty professionals is classier than being drunk off a beer bong or sitting on the stool of a generic honky-tonk. It’s the same result.
He stumbles as we get close to the entrance of his condo. I grab his arm to support him. He doesn’t say anything but nonetheless takes my arm. I unlock the door and we enter together, still attached.
I throw his keys on the entry table and he stoops like an old man in the hallway. He leans against it, slumping his head and shoulders forward before staring down at his hands. I’m not sure why he pauses. Confused, I start towards him when he says, “Why do you think she chose him?”
I stop dead. He’s never asked me for my opinion about what Ireena and Damion did to him. Not like this. Not once in the eighteen months since this started, did he ever express any self-doubts to me. All I witnessed was his anger. He insulted her with derogatory names, as well as Damion, but he never allowed his vulnerability to show. My heart thumps hard, and I am overwhelmed with sympathy. What a terrible thing they did to him.
“We look exactly alike.”
Don’t I know it. I’m attracted to Devon and Damion’s physical looks. Yes. But they are totally different as people. I go way beyond the friendly, almost brotherly connection with only one of them: Devon. Damion is more like my cousin. Which is balls-out crazy. I’ve tried to get Devon to notice me as a woman since I was about fifteen… thirteen… or whatever age I was, it has been a damn long time.
My teen years were painfully endured because I was implausibly shy. College found me slightly more outgoing, but after gaining significant weight, I got so embarrassed and unsure of myself that I forgot how to be confident. My changed body plagued me until I started working. Only when I stepped out of the social party scene of school, which includes all schools, did I flourish and shine. My adult life suits me far better than my youth. I didn’t fit in. I never drank much alcohol because I couldn�
�t. That branded me a misfit at parties in school as well as in college. My weight was difficult to maintain. I eventually gained confidence in who and what I am now. Today. But to confess to the one man I’ve always thought I loved that I have a huge crush on him? I never had that much confidence. So I stood by and watched while he dated Ireena, who was the most devastatingly gorgeous student of all.
Devon wonders why she preferred his doppelganger brother over him. I hear the tone in his voice now: vulnerable, sad, and insecure. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Devon express himself honestly or admit his emotions. Carefully, I consider my next words. I wonder if he’ll even remember asking me that question tomorrow.
“I think she just set out to see if she could get away with it. Then she got caught.”
“You think she set out to get Damion?”
“Yes. But not because she rejected you. I think if she caught Damion’s eye first, she’d have set out to seduce you.”
“She’d have never seduced me, not if she were with Damion. I’d never betray him like that.”
“I agree,” I state quietly. It hurts to keep blaming Damion. I hate to see them separated by one woman’s purposeful intentions and divisive actions. Maybe Damion would have said that at one time, too. Then this tragic mistake might never have occurred.
“Why do you think she would have done it if things were reversed?”