by Ws Greer
I sigh and try to settle my throbbing nerves. As I become more anxious, I let my anger climb its way to the surface and guide me again.
“I'm not here to talk about that, Trent,” I begin, and his pleading demeanor hardens. “The reason I called you here today isn't because I miss you. I don't want to talk about what happened the last time we were in a room together because it’ll just make me upset, and I’m done with all of that. I called you here because I wanted to say something to you face-to-face, but I couldn't trust you enough to speak to you in private, so we’re here in a public place.
Trent crosses his arms over his chest and starts to frown. I can see the moment his brain kicks in and he reminds himself not to get upset, before switching his expression to something softer. There it is. That's what he’s been doing ever since we started dating. He feels his rage ticking up, and he fights with all of his might to hide his true colors. I just watched it happen in real time and it makes me sick to my stomach.
“Okay,” Trent mumbles. “Well, even though you don't miss me, I still miss you. I just thought you would love me enough to miss me, that’s all.”
“And I thought you would love me enough to never put your fucking hands on me, so I guess we’re both feeling disappointed and betrayed.” Trent lets out a soft gasp in shock, but I don't pause long enough to let him start talking. “The reason we’re here, Trent, is so I can tell you I’m divorcing you. Although you've shown me how much you don't respect me, I respect you enough to tell you that to your face. After I leave here, I’ll be meeting with a lawyer, who I scheduled an appointment with the night I left the house. I’ll be filing divorce papers, and I don't want any bullshit from you when it’s time for you to sign them. I don't want to drag this out or make it difficult for either one of us. I want it done, and I want it quick. Do you understand?”
Trent frowns harder than I've ever seen. “What? You called me here to drop this bomb on me in public? You did this to embarrass me? Jesus, Kim. You really think this is necessary? We had a fight. It’s not that big of a deal that we should divorce over it. You've got to be kidding me.”
“It is a big deal, and I’m definitely not kidding,” I snip.
Trent scoffs. “I know what this is. You just want to go out there and hook up with guys. That's what this has always been about for you, huh? You don't want to be a wife because you'd rather be a whore.”
“Fuck you, you fucking pussy,” I fire back, and everyone seated at the table next to us turns their heads in our direction. “The days of me taking your shit are all over, and if I want to go out and fuck every man in the world, you'll be the lone asshole who can't have me. I understand my worth now, and I don't need you or any other man who can't appreciate me. You're an insecure piece of shit with the world’s most fragile ego, and I deserve so much more than you. I deserve a man—a man who walks next to me with confidence and pride that I'm his, rather than a crybaby who can't be by my side without being an anxious coward who’s scared I’ll leave for another guy. You can't handle being with me, Trent, and I'd much rather be with someone who can. So, you can call me a whore all you want. I don't care. You can go fuck yourself. I’ll never be a whore for you.”
By the time I'm done talking, everyone in the restaurant is staring at us. Trent’s skin has turned beet red, and I can see the rage in his face as he tightens his jaw, struggling to keep himself together in front of our new audience. He taps the table with his finger and bites his lip as he leans forward.
“You fucking little bitch,” he whispers. “You think anybody in this place is fast enough to keep me from slapping the living shit out of you? By the time anyone got to me, you’d be a bloody mess, so you better think twice before talking to me like that ever again. What happened last time will not happen this time, I promise you that.”
“Fuck you,” I reply, and don't even think to whisper. I let it out come out full volume, fueled by the anger and hurt I've been feeling since Trent started showing me who he truly is. I wrap my fingers around the red spoon on the table and hold it with the blunt side facing Trent. “You put your fucking hands on me, and I swear to God I’ll stab you in your goddamn throat right here in front of everyone. Don't sit there whispering threats to me, you fucking coward. Say it out loud so everyone can hear how much of a bitch you are, threatening a woman. Go ahead, say it again so everyone can hear.”
Trent doesn't speak. He leans back in his seat and glares at me, doing his best to kill me with his eyes.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. If I would've known you were such a joke, I never would've married you.” I get up from my seat, still holding the spoon tight in my fist. “Cherish this moment, because this is the last time we’ll be together without the presence of our lawyers. Have a nice life, Trent, and also … fuck you.”
Trent continues to stare at me, but I don't care. I've never felt more powerful in my life, and when I walk out of the restaurant into the shining sun, there are no more tears. I lift my head to the sky and smile, because I just set myself free, and it’s the best feeling in the entire world.
ASHES
Chapter 35
~ MALCOLM ~
“Thanks again, Dr. Colson. As always, I really appreciate it.”
“It’s my pleasure, Theodosia. I’ll see you at the same time next week. Have a good evening.”
“Thank you. You too.”
I hold the door open for my final client of the day and release a breath as she leaves the building. Today’s sessions were a struggle, just as all of them have been this week. It has been difficult for me to focus on the tasks at hand because my mind is elsewhere. I’m constantly thinking about Evelyn, and I’m also being distracted by constant thoughts of Ava, as much as I hate it.
Sitting in front of patients and trying to tell them how to keep their lives and relationships on track isn't easy when my life and relationships are off their own rails. I feel like a hypocrite when I give advice that I myself can't follow. So, I’ve had to pull myself through my work laboriously this week, but I’ve managed to make it out on the other side now that the week is over. It’s Friday, and I finally have a chance to clear my head and map out the moves I need to make in order to make progress in my own life.
“I’m all wrapped up out here, Dr. Colson,” Keisha’s voice says from the open doorway. I look up just in time to see her poking her head into my office. The fabric of her red dress hangs over the threshold at the bottom of the door as she leans into the room with a smile on her face. “You okay?” she asks, noticing my hand covering my eyes as I sit behind my desk.
“Oh, yeah I'm fine. Thanks for another good week. Enjoy your weekend,” I tell her, hoping she’ll take the hint and know I don't really want to talk about my problems, but Keisha isn't that kind of person. She’s a strong, supportive friend, and always has been. Our work relationship is more like a partnership, so I’m not surprised when she steps into the room and leans against the doorframe.
“Okay, Malcolm, what’s wrong?” she asks, using my first name now that our work day is over. “And don’t say it ain't nothing, because I see you sitting over there with your hand on your head like you’re stressing. So, what’s going on?”
“I take it you won't leave until I tell you?”
“Nope.”
“Well, all right then. You may want to come have a seat.”
Keisha walks over to the armchair I usually sit in while administering sessions, and turns the chair so it faces my desk. Once she's set, I tell her everything about Evelyn and Ava. I don't leave out a single detail, and it takes fifteen minutes to get it all out of me. By the time I'm done talking, Keisha looks just as conflicted as I feel.
“Damn, Malcolm, I knew that girl was trouble,” she says, referring to Ava. “I knew it the first time I saw her looking at you like she owned you after only a session or two, and it was confirmed for me when she started glaring at me just for being in the same room as you. It was like she was actually mad at me for being your sec
retary. You should've dropped her crazy ass off a long time ago, but since you didn't, you’ve got to figure out how to keep her psychotic behavior from messing up what you have with Dr. Monroe.”
“Yeah, that’s the problem. I haven't spoken to Evelyn since the Olive Garden drama,” I say. “There hasn't been a single text between us. I think she's done now, and I honestly can't blame her. This shit with Ava has gotten out of hand.”
“I couldn't blame her if she wanted out either, but you know it’s deeper than that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come on, Malcolm. You're the best therapist in the game, and you know women pretty well … for a man.” I laugh and frown at the same time. “You know Dr. Monroe isn't going to just drop you like that. She has feelings, too. So, even if she's pissed at Ava and annoyed at you for being the root cause of the frustration, she still likes you.”
“That’s probably true, but we had just decided to push past the Ava shit when Ava showed up at Olive Garden. That set us back pretty far, I think, and if I was in her shoes, I would've ended it already. Who has time for this constant barrage of bullshit?”
“A person in love has time for it, even if they wish they didn't.”
“A person in what?” I cut in, a deep furrow in my brow. “Slow it down a few miles per hour, Keisha. I never said we were in love.”
“Nah, you didn't say it.”
“I didn't imply it either. I see what you're trying to do.”
“I’m not trying to do anything except call it like I see it,” Keisha shoots back, raising her eyebrows.
“Stop. It’s not like that.”
“You sure?”
My mouth immediately wants to say yes, but my brain makes me pause. Am I sure? Evelyn and I haven't said we love each other, but is it something I want to say? Do I love her? How long has it been? Four months now? Is that enough time to fall in love with someone? No. Wait … right?
“Mm-hmm,” Keisha mumbles, twisting her mouth into a grin. “Anyway, if you really want to be with Evelyn, which I know you do, you're not doing yourself any favors by sitting around trying to guess how she feels. You have to have a real conversation with her. Get her to open up to you above everything. If she can't take the Ava drama, she needs to tell you and make a clean break. Have a conversation that doesn't end until there is no more confusion in the air. You don't leave until you both know if it’s over or still going. You're either done, or you're fighting through the bullshit together. But don't sit in here stressing about the unknown. All you have to do is give her a call and make a date to sit down face-to-face so you can talk. Oh, and don't try to make the situation more confusing by having sex instead of talking. I know how you are, Malcolm.”
I throw my hands up. “What are you talking about? I never do anything like that.”
“Right,” she replies, dragging the word out before giggling. “Anyway, just give her a call, okay? If I’m being honest, I think she’s good for you. You looked happy when you were with her, and I like that.”
“For real?” I ask, rhetorically. “Thanks, Keisha. I appreciate you. See, even therapists need therapy.”
“Yeah, well I got you, Dr. Colson. But you better get it together soon, because next time I’m going to have to charge you by the hour.” Keisha gets up from her seat and starts toward the door.
“I’m on it,” I say.
She reaches the door and looks over her shoulder. “Have a good weekend, Malcolm. You call me if you need me.”
“Okay. Thanks, Keisha. Enjoy your weekend.”
My secretary exits, and I take a moment to sit in silence at my desk. Keisha is exactly right about how I should proceed, but these things are often much easier said than done. However, if I don't call Evelyn and sit down with her so we can figure this out, I’ll go insane. I don't like feeling distracted at work because my patients need me. They’re struggling with real problems and need real help. If I’m off, it can have a serious ripple effect.
Even off the subject of work, I need to know what’s going on because I'm tired of not knowing. I certainly wouldn't blame Evelyn for wanting to get away from Ava because no one knows what she might do. If that’s the case, I’ll be heartbroken, but I’ll understand, and I’ll be able to look to the future. I’ll know for a fact that it’s over, and I’ll have to rebuild. It’ll suck, but at least I’ll know.
Picking up the phone makes me nervous. This may be the last time I call her. It may be the last time we set up a date, and the last time we meet face to face on purpose. This phone call may very well be setting up the end of us, and my heart thuds as the phone starts to ring.
“Hello, Malcolm,” she answers, and my heart speeds up at the sound of her voice.
“Hi, Evelyn,” I reply. “I'm sorry I haven't called, but I've been thinking about you, and I think we need to talk.”
“I've been thinking about you, too,” she answers, and I struggle to keep from smiling. “And you're right, we definitely need to talk.”
Chapter 36
~ MALCOLM ~
I walk down into the Black House feeling like I haven’t done it in years. Each step feels slow and methodical, as if I've never descended these stairs before and I’m unsure what will be there once I reach the bottom. I don't have a reason to go down into the basement except to clear my head. Maybe if I see where I used to spend all of my time, I’ll figure out how I lost control of everything. Maybe the answer is down in the dark.
I step onto the black carpet and feel its softness as my eyes scan the room. Light shines over the entirety of the space and I see the Black House in all its glory. The massive bed is laid out in the back of the room covered in silky black sheets, with its four pillars jutting up to the ceiling with black ropes fastened to each of them. The 2 chests of drawers are to my left, both of them filled with my most cherished floggers and vibrating gadgets that bring a woman to her knees. I eye the glass case with spreader bars and handcuffs on display before landing on Saint Andrew’s Cross in the corner to my right. I can't help but remember all of the times I’ve spent in front of my favorite toy. I remember placing Ava’s wrists and ankles into the leather restraints like it was yesterday, just the same as I remember when she was kneeling in front of this cross after she’d broken into my house and stripped off all of her clothes.
My life in this basement has been a whirlwind. Most of the memories are great. This space has been filled with intense orgasms and beautiful screams of pleasure. It was literally my happy place for a while. Ava has placed a dark cloud over it now, to say the least. How could I ever get the memory of her falling down the stairs out of my head? Bone splitting against hardwood isn't something that leaves the mind easily. That memory alone makes the entire place seem dimmer.
The bullshit with Ava has gotten so out of control, it’s pretty much a blur at this point. I went from fucking Ava to being stalked by her in what seemed like only a matter of days. Shortly thereafter, I met Evelyn and things started getting better, right before it all went to shit again. I feel like my head is still spinning from all of the twisted and confusing roads I've been weaving in and out of. I don't know when things became so out of control, but if I don't reel it all in, everything I’ve built will become ashes in the wind.
That’s what today is all about. Evelyn and I didn’t stay on the phone very long when I spoke to her yesterday. Although she sounded like she didn’t really want to talk to me, it was great to hear her voice, and I was thrilled when she agreed to meet with me at my house tonight. We both still care for each other, but neither of us knows if what we have between us is able to withstand the onslaught of Ava. Ava is a barrage of bullets, and what Evelyn and I feel for each other is like a bulletproof vest. Getting shot still hurts, vest or not, and after feeling the sting of one bullet, you're not in a hurry to accept another round to the chest. Tonight is meant to answer whether we’re strong enough or not.
My plan is simply to sit Evelyn down and be completely honest with her. I need
her to know how much I care about her, and how much I want our relationship to keep going. However, I also need her to know that I’d understand if she doesn't want to risk being with me if it means having to fear for her life. Ava literally set Evelyn’s car on fire. If that isn't a direct threat, I don't know what is. So, it’d be extremely selfish of me to ask her to continue moving forward at the risk of bodily injury. I care about her too much to accept that risk, so I’m willing to let her go if it means keeping her safe. As much as it would hurt me to watch her walk out of my house for good tonight, at least she’d be safe. Plus, there would also be hope that we could make it work later, once the situation with Ava is resolved.
That brings up another question. What does the situation with Ava being resolved actually look like? Does Ava go to jail? Does she move on? Does she just forget all about me? Maybe she meets someone else and fixates on that person. If any of these situations ends up being the real one, how long am I supposed to wait for it to happen? How long is Evelyn supposed to wait?
By the time I sit on the bed and put my head down, I’m no closer to answers. My head is a chocolate and vanilla swirl of confusion of frustration, and I have no expectations for how this will end up. I feel like I’m prepared for both everything and nothing at the exact same time, but when my phone chimes with a message from Evelyn, I know some of the answers are coming.
Evelyn: Hey. I’m here. Knocked on the door but you didn't answer. You home yet?
My heart is suddenly beating with newfound anxiety after reading her message. Evelyn’s here. She’s ready to talk. This is it. I take a deep breath and reply.
Me: Hi. Yes, I'm here. I’m down in the basement. Come on in. The door is unlocked.
Chapter 37
~ MALCOLM ~
The black door to the basement slowly pulls open as I lift myself off of the bed and make my way to the bottom of the stairs. When I reach the step, I look up and see Evelyn standing at the top. The light from the kitchen is bright behind her, making her appear as a silhouette until she closes the door and begins to step down toward me, and I’m given the gift of being able to see her clearly.