The following week after I sent the message, I moved out. It was too hard to function there. The simplest things would make me cry, like the time I glanced at his toothbrush and broke down. There were so many good memories haunting me, then one really bad one tormenting me. Once all of my things were boxed up and carried out, I took one last look around the place, left a note, and said goodbye.
On such short notice, it would be hard to find a place that was move-in ready, so Janey let me crash with her. I couldn’t be more grateful. She’s really been there for me through all of this and I know I’ll never be able to repay her. Because of Janey, I’m functioning among the living again. I’m not happy. No, far from it, but each day seems a little better, a little lighter, and a little easier.
My work has become my sole focus, my main distraction. I bury myself in it to keep my thoughts from straying to Austin and how empty my life is without him. It’s impossible to remove him completely, but it gets me by.
A little before seven o’clock, I’m finally home after a long workweek ready to relax with a big glass of wine. My eyes are tired from looking at the computer screen, and my back is stiff from sitting at my desk for hours on end. Once I’ve changed into some yoga pants and a t-shirt, I join Janey on the couch and kick up my feet.
“How was your day?” she asks.
“Same as every other day.” Nothing changes from day to day. I get up, go to work, come home, and go to bed.
“Well, what do you want to do tonight since it’s ‘no TV Thursday?’”
The first episode of First Comes Marriage aired last week. I didn’t watch it. There was no way I could stomach seeing how happy we were together. Knowing the world would be devouring it didn’t make things easier either. For fear of accidentally catching a glimpse of the show, I forbid TV on Thursdays.
“I’m actually pretty tired. I think I’m going to soak in the bath, read a little, then try to catch some sleep.”
“Alrighty, I’ll see you in the morning then.”
With a yawn, I tell her goodnight and head toward my bathroom. Sitting on the edge of the tub, I turn the water on and wait for it to reach the perfect temperature before I drop the plug in.
My reflection catches my attention when I stand to undress. I’ve lost quite a bit of weight in the last two months. My cheekbones are sharp, my collarbones are prominent, and all of my clothes are loose on me. I have absolutely no appetite and only eat because I know I have to. Even then, it’s a struggle.
After my clothes are off, I’m about to step into the water when I realize I never got a glass of wine.
“Shit,” I say under my breath. Grabbing a towel, I wrap it around me, shut off the water, and go after my wine. As I enter the living room, I freeze in my tracks.
“Austin and Jillian, Congratulations on being newlyweds. To celebrate and get to know one another, you will be going on a two week long, all-expense paid trip to Bora Bora. You leave later this afternoon, so pack your bags and head to the airport.” I’m on screen squealing and jumping around.
“Holy *bleep*. Bora Bora? That’s so *bleep* awesome!”
That moment comes back to me in a rush, sending me back to a place I’ve spent these last couple of months pulling myself out of. The hole in my heart widens and all I want to do is cry.
“Why the hell are you watching this?” I ask angrily. Janey jumps at my unexpected intrusion and quickly turns the TV off.
“Sorry, I thought you were going to bed for the night.”
“I was, but why do you have that on?” My arms cross over my chest. It might be stupid, but I almost feel betrayed.
She shrugs but has the decency to look apologetic. “I don’t know, I was just curious.”
“You know how it ends! There’s no reason for you to watch it!” I storm off, needing to get away before I break down. God, that was so much harder to see than I thought it’d be. My chest aches sharply, making it hard to breathe. I crawl into bed numbly, not bothering to put on any clothes and curl up on top of the covers. It’s not long before I’m falling asleep and dreaming of light blue water and dark chocolate eyes.
This is now the ninth Monday post Austin, yet at the start of each week, I walk into my office still hoping for flowers. This week is no different, and the feelings of disappointment aren’t either. Doing my best to bottle up my emotions, I walk the rest of the way into my office and begin working.
When I glance down at my clock later that day, I see it’s already noon. I push myself away from my desk and stretch out a bit. I’m about to stand up to take a break when my phone rings. The caller ID lets me know it’s the receptionist at the front.
“Hey, Melanie,” I greet once I answer.
“Good afternoon, Jillian. There’s a man here to see you.” My adrenaline spikes and my hope soars.
“You can send him on back. Thank you.”
“No problem.”
I hang up the phone and run my sweaty palms down the front of my skirt. I’m so nervous. What do I say? What do I do? I don’t have time to think about it because there’s a knock on the door.
“Come in,” I say.
The door opens and my face and posture drop. I don’t know who this man is, but it’s not Austin. I stand, expecting some sort of introduction.
“Are you Mrs. James?” The question stalls my heart. James. My married name.
Swallowing hard, I nod. “Yes, and you are?”
“I’m Steve Smith and I work for the law offices of Butler and Butler. I’m here to serve you your divorce papers.” He holds out a large envelope, but I can’t take it.
My knees give out from under me and I collapse, thankful my chair is there to catch my fall. When I make no attempt to take it from him, he sets it on my desk along with his business card. With a compassionate smile and a nod of his head, he exits my office and closes the door behind him.
No.
Divorce?
No.
Everything around me becomes a blur as I sit motionless in a trance. If I don’t move or think, it won’t hurt so bad. But the longer I sit here, the more the weight of that packet crushes me. My lip trembles uncontrollably, my throat hurts as I resist the urge to sob, and my eyes fill with tears.
This is it. It’s really over.
My stomach rolls over, and with very little warning purges its contents. I barely make it to the trash can beside my desk in time. With the back of my hand, I wipe my mouth and lean back in my chair.
It hurts all over. The pain is indescribable, all encompassing, completely consuming and crippling. My breaths are shallow and my chest is tight. My heart is beyond shattered. It’s destroyed. Obliterated. Not a piece of it is salvageable.
I’m really not sure what I was expecting out of all of this. We haven’t spoken in two months, but this still came as a complete shock. Here I was hoping for flowers and got divorce papers instead. The irony isn’t lost on me and if I wasn’t so devastated, it would almost be funny.
Oh, God. The reunion show. I’ll have to see him in six weeks. The thought alone has my anxiety rising and my palms sweating again. How am I going to face him?
Actually, maybe that’s exactly what we need. If I could get him to talk to me, we might be able to work this out. I just have to show him I really do love him and that my feelings for him were—are—genuine.
Picking up the envelope by the corner and holding it away from me like it’s a contagious virus, I drop it into my desk drawer, close and lock it. I’m not signing shit until he talks to me.
EACH DAY HAS crawled by in a colorless blur. The cold, dead winter expresses my current state of mind. The bleakness of it rushes by my window as I travel down the road. There’s no joy, just harsh truths and bitter loneliness. The envelope still sits forgotten in my desk. Well, it’s not actually forgotten since I’m very aware of its presence every day I’m at work. But it’s out of sight and unsigned. I thought I’d hear from his attorney by now. Six weeks have gone by since I’ve been served and I’ve
made no attempts to seek legal representation of my own, but I haven’t heard a word.
When the taxi stops, I pay the driver and get out. Looking up at the building, I take a deep breath and prepare myself for what is about to happen. Today is the reunion show. The day I’ve been anxious for and dreading all at the same time. In a few short minutes, I’ll see Austin, and I’m not sure what’s going to happen.
People move around me on the busy sidewalk, grumbling that I’m in the way, but I can’t move. My feet are glued to the concrete and refuse to go forward. I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but my mouth is too dry. After wiping the sweat off of my hands onto my pants, I shake them out. With a final blow of air, I steal my nerves and make my way inside and to my destination.
Once I’m to the production studio, my eyes search frantically for the one person I want to see most. My heart rate increases the longer it takes to locate him.
“Jillian,” a voice beside me says, startling me. “I’m Amy, and I’m one of the staffers. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to the waiting room.” She begins to walk and I follow her. “There are some snacks and refreshments available, so be sure to help yourself,” she says over her shoulder. Stopping in front of a door, she turns to look at me. “If you need anything, just let me know.”
Once she leaves my side, I stare at the door, a cluster of emotions running through me as I wonder if he’s on the other side. I guess there’s only one way to find out.
Walking in and shutting the door behind me, my eyes scan the room to see there’s only one other person in here.
Austin.
My breath catches and my heart stalls in my chest. He looks the same, yet different. He’s still devastatingly handsome, but looks harder, more tired. For the briefest of moments, I see his hard exterior slip. There’s a warm softness to his eyes, almost like he missed me too. It’s enough to make my knees buckle and jumpstart my empty heart again. But all too soon, it’s replaced by the same coldness as before. There’s no emotion, no light, just vacancy in his expression. My chest aches with his obvious dismissal when he turns away from me.
With heavy feet, I walk slowly toward the couch Austin is sitting on. “How are you?” Really? Could I be any more awkward? I mentally cringe with how stupid I sound.
“Fine,” he replies flatly, not looking at me.
“That’s good.” I rock on my heels and grasp for anything to say. “I don’t know if you knew, but I moved out, so you have the apartment all to yourself.” Part of me is hoping he came home and saw I was gone. If he came back, that might be a good sign.
“I know. Chloe told me.”
My back stiffens at the mention of her name. “Chloe? How would she know?” I do my best to hide my underlying resentment toward her, but I’m sure some of it seeps through anyway.
“She was the agent for the property so management informed her.” His explanation relaxes me just the slightest bit, but I’m still tense in his presence.
Knowing we can’t dance around our problems forever, I decide to get to the point. “Can we talk?” I ask hesitantly.
“What’s there to talk about?” he replies in a cold voice.
His response makes me angry, giving me the bravery to speak up that I didn’t have before. Is he serious right now? “Seriously? There’s a lot to talk about. You rip me a new ass after I get home, don’t give me a chance to respond, storm out, don’t talk to me for weeks, then serve me divorce papers. Why don’t you take your pick of issues we should discuss?” I cross my arms over my chest and wait for him to respond.
“I don’t want to discuss any of those issues with you because none of it matters.” His focus turns to me and the man looking at me is unrecognizable. He’s harsh, bitter, and mean. By the fire in his eyes, I know whatever he’s about to say is going to be purposefully malicious with the sole intent of causing damage. “You see, Cassandra, I don’t give a shit about you anymore. You’re nothing to me and I’m better off without you. I don’t need that kind of toxicity and scum in my life. The sooner we get done with this show, the better.”
His words cause me to back up, needing to put physical distance between me and his hate. It would’ve hurt less if he had punched me in the gut. My eyes burn with unshed tears as I stare at the man I once loved. A man who holds not an ounce of compassion for me in return. As a single tear runs down my cheek, I nod at him, feeling completely deflated.
“You’ve made your point then.” My voice quivers as I try my best to hold it together. “I’d appreciate it if you kept this between us. No one knows about my past and I’d like to keep it that way.”
He throws his head back and laughs. The sound sends chills up my spine. “Of course this is all about you, right? Keeping your secret and saving yourself the embarrassment. What about me?” He shouts the last part at me. I jump from the unexpected outburst.
“What do you want from me? I said I was sorry. I can’t change it!” I hold my arms out before letting them fall to my sides again.
He stands and walks to me until we’re face to face. “I want you to sign the damn papers.” Brushing past me, he runs into my shoulder, knocking me slightly off balance. “I want you out of my life,” he spits at me as he’s walking out the door.
I collapse in a heap onto the floor and cry. Within seconds, I’m hyperventilating and having a panic attack. Everything hits me at once. My chest is heavy and I can’t catch my breath. He hates me and wants nothing to do with me. We really are over and the finality of it is breaking me in two. My heart beats erratically and I start to sweat. Oh God, he might tell everyone the truth. Everyone will know I’m the product of drug addicted murderers. My panting becomes faster and louder and I can’t get any air into my lungs. I start seeing black spots and get dizzy. It feels like I’m dying.
Through the sounds of my gasps, I don’t realize someone is beside me until they touch my shoulder. Snapping my head to the side, I see Austin crouched down beside me. “Jesus,” he mutters. With drawn in eyebrows and wide eyes, worry mars his perfect face. He grabs one of my wrists and drapes it over his shoulder. Then he scoops me up by the back of my knees and lower back, cradling me in his arms.
I try to resist the urge to find comfort in his embrace, but it’s hard. His scent and warmth instantly soothes me, slowing my pounding heart and rapid breathing. He places me gently on the couch and sits down beside me. “Just breathe,” he says softly while rubbing my back. His words fan across my cheek and I focus on his words with my eyes closed. “In through your nose, out through your mouth.” He breathes in and out, allowing me to follow his rhythm and settle myself down. After several moments, I’ve calmed down enough where I’m not hyperventilating or feel like I’m suffocating.
“You okay now?” he asks.
I nod with my eyes downcast. I hate that he just witnessed my freak out. As if this situation couldn’t get any worse, now he probably thinks I’m completely unstable.
“Are you sure? Has that been happening a lot?” He reaches out to touch my arm, but I pull away.
“I appreciate your help, but you don’t have to pretend to care just because I’m having a hard time.”
He opens his mouth to speak, but the door opens and interrupts him. “We’re ready for you now,” Amy states. Without another glance at Austin, I get up and walk out of the room.
After cleaning myself up, I went on stage in front of the live audience to get this over with. The first few questions pertained to our time together while filming. It was really hard to watch clips from the show. We were happy and in love. There was so much chemistry and passion. You’d have to be blind not to see that. Now, we can hardly stand to sit on the same couch. I know everyone senses the tension. The doctors all gave us a sad smile when they realized we weren’t together anymore. They haven’t asked yet, but they don’t have to. It’s written all over our faces and in our stiff posture.
We come back from a commercial, and the host asks the one question I’ve been dreading. “So, t
ell us; are you still married, or did you get a divorce?”
“No, we’ve separated since the show ended,” I say past the lump in my throat. There’s a collective ‘awwww’ from the audience, adding salt to the wound.
“Why? What happened?”
I look over to Austin. It’s the first time since we’ve sat down on this stage. When he returns my gaze, I see it. The need to hurt and humiliate me. He wants to tell everyone. He wants to slice me open and bare my guilt ridden soul to the world. Well, fuck that. This is my secret, so if anyone is going to tell it, it’s going to be me.
Facing forward, I answer the question. “I lied about who I was.” I think I might puke. My stomach does somersaults as fear grips me with her talons and holds me tight. I can’t believe I’m about to do this.
“What do you mean?”
“I wasn’t honest. With him, with you, with the doctors, with anyone. My name’s not Jillian Taylor. Well, my name is legally Jillian now, but that’s not who I’ve always been. I was born Cassandra Rhodes.”
“Why did you change your name?” the host asks. Confusion is abundant in the room. No one knows what’s going on and there’s no way they’ll ever guess the truth.
“To run away from my past. You see, I had a really crappy childhood. My parents were both drug addicts. They’d disappear for days on benders, leaving me to take care of myself at a very young age. Most times I had nothing to eat, no clean clothes, nothing. I’d wait around for them to come home hoping they’d bring food. Except when they came home, I wanted them to leave because my dad would start hitting me.” The lack of emotion in my voice surprises even me. Right now, I’m numb to everything.
“They were gone for two days when they finally came home and my mother was covered in blood. They were freaking out about getting out of town quickly. We went on the run for a while, living out of their beat-up car, hanging out in crime-ridden neighborhoods so they could score another hit. I was left in the backseat as an afterthought. Then we’d run some more when they’d rob a store to pay for the drugs they were using.” I can still smell the tires burning on the asphalt as we peeled away after they stole money from a cashier.
Hopeless Vows Page 17