“Talk? The last thing I want to do is talk, Val.” He took another drink.
“It’s not healthy to keep this shit all bottled up.”
He snarled. “I suppose walking around the apartment crying all the time is so much healthier.”
I just stared at him and withdrew my hand. I swallowed. “I know you’re hurting, Ethan, but you don’t need to be an asshole.”
He just kept looking at me with contempt. “Stop pretending to know what I feel, Val. You don’t know.”
That hurt. That he couldn’t support my feelings but then just withdrew into a cave and started the old stupid habit of drowning in liquor…that didn’t feel like love to me. “You know what, Ethan? I might not know what it was like for you growing up and how you feel…felt about your dad, but I know what it’s like to feel guilty. I know what it’s like to be disappointed and hurt. And it’s killing me to watch you do this to yourself.” I stood up and went to our bedroom.
And he stopped drinking again a few days later when I threatened to leave.
Shortly thereafter, Fully Automatic got a recording contract.
And when their first CD was released to the world, it shot up the charts with a bullet.
And the rest, as they say, is history. But there’s still more left to my story if you can spare me the time.
Chapter Thirty-nine
Present
I’D BEEN FEELING down. I couldn’t focus on even the most mundane housework…which I’d never been that thrilled about anyway, but it had just seemed harder lately. What was the purpose? Sure, I liked having a clean house, and I certainly didn’t want my child getting dirty just walking through the house, but I couldn’t find the motivation to do everything that needed to be done.
Ethan moped around the house, never showering, never picking up after himself. He wouldn’t talk to Chris or even look at him. He hardly ate anymore but when he did, he ate way too much. Still, he was losing weight. When he bothered to speak, he’d curse at me or the world. He was drinking, smoking, and God knows what else. When he bothered to leave the house, I suspected he was sleeping around on me, and—unbathed or not, in poor shape or not—he was a rock star. There would be some girl somewhere happy to fuck him. I knew that much. If I even so much as tried to get him to talk to me, he’d just tell me to leave him alone.
And then I noticed he’d stopped wearing his wedding band.
All I could think of for days was how marriage was supposed to last forever…till death do us part. And I knew it was bullshit, but I just couldn’t get up the courage to decide to end it for good. I wanted my child to have his father, to know him and love him.
But it was a joke. Even when Ethan was there in body, he wasn’t present in mind. He was no more a father to Chris than I was.
I’d finally had enough. I couldn’t take it anymore. Ethan was still in bed, and it was past two in the afternoon. I’d just laid Chris down for a nap and so I went into the bedroom.
I sat on the edge of the bed. “Ethan, wake up.” No answer. “Wake up, Ethan.” I kept my voice low and calm, because that was the kind of discussion I wanted—rational and calm. “I can make some coffee if you want.”
He stirred but kept his eyes closed. His voice was thick when he said, “Just leave me the fuck alone.”
“Ethan, it’s two o’clock. You should get up.”
“What for? Just leave me alone, mom.”
God, I hated when he called me that. It was a blow off. But I’d promised myself I’d stay calm. “We need to talk, Ethan. Please. Please just get up for a while.”
“If I have to tell you one more time…” He fell back asleep. I wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily.
“What, Ethan? You’ll what?”
“Just get the fuck out of here. I’m tired. You and that little brat were so goddamned noisy this morning…”
Oh…that did it. “Brat? You’re calling your son a brat? That precious child who wants nothing more than his father’s love? Did you know he’s talking now, Ethan? He says real words, communicates. But I suppose you think that’s just noise.” I inhaled, trying to calm down again.
“Goddammit, Val. Just get the fuck out of here.”
I took a deep breath. I had to try a different tactic. My voice was low. “Can we talk about your depression, Ethan?”
He muttered into the pillow. “Who says I’m depressed?”
“What would you call it, Ethan?”
“You’re bothering me. You’re always bothering me. That’s what my problem is.”
I shouldn’t have let that comment get to me. But it did. Still, I tried to maintain. “How am I always bothering you?”
“The kid constantly screaming. You constantly harping on me about shit. I just want to be left alone.”
To this day, I’m not sure how I managed to keep my cool. It was as if the angrier I felt, the more I buried it. “A little solitude is good for a person, Ethan, but you’re taking it to the extreme and you know it. Fine. You can treat me like shit. You always have. But you need to spend time with your son.”
His voice was almost a growl, but he still didn’t open his eyes. “Goddammit. Just leave me the fuck alone, Val. How many different ways do I have to tell you I don’t want you around?”
My voice was cool. “Fine. I’ll leave.” I got up and started to walk toward the door. He understood the tone of finality in my voice, because he bolted out of bed and grabbed me by my upper arm, swinging me around.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
His fingers were digging into my flesh. I could tell I was going to have bruises without even looking. “Let go of me, Ethan. That hurts.”
“Not until you answer my question.”
“I’m getting away from you. That’s what you wanted, remember? How many times did you tell me to just leave you alone?”
He glared, but he let go. I could see the anger rising inside of him, and I think I preferred it to the lethargic depressive state he’d been in. At least it was something. I turned to leave, but he grabbed me again. He pushed me against the wall, his face in mine. “You still love me, don’t you, Val?” But it wasn’t a question. I tried getting away from him, but he grabbed my arm again. “Val?”
I could feel my nostrils flaring. I didn’t like how he’d cornered me. “Let me go, Ethan. You wanted me to leave you alone, so I am.”
His eyes searched mine. There was something there that I’d never seen before, something base, something feral, something I would never be able to reason with. I knew that looking at him. It scared me. He pressed his hand against my neck, and at first I thought it was just to scare me more, because he’d seen the look of fear in my eyes.
“Stop it, Ethan.” Having said it, though, it was as if the real Ethan was whisked away from me. I couldn’t see him inside his face anymore. His eyes were clouded, masked, and his fingers started pressing in on me. I started pushing against him, slapping at him, trying to get his attention, but it was almost like he wasn’t there…and like he wanted to shut me up by choking me to death. I beat on his chest with my fists, and then it was like he snapped back. He took a deep breath and loosened his hand. He bent over to kiss me, and I shoved him away.
This time, he let me go. I went into Chris’s room and pulled the big diaper bag out of the closet. I made sure there were plenty of diapers and also put a couple pairs of clothes in it for him. I didn’t want to go back in my bedroom, so I went to the bathroom and put a few things in a makeup bag. But on the way back to Chris’s room, I decided I’d just walk into my room and quickly grab a couple pairs of jeans and t-shirts. Ethan was already out of there, though, so I took my time and chose two clean sets of clothes, including underwear. I put my things in a backpack hanging in my closet.
Last, I grabbed Chris’s car seat and lifted him out of his crib. I felt bad, but he barely stirred as I lay him in the seat. I draped his bag and the backpack over my shoulder along with my purse and walked out of t
he bedroom. As I walked toward the front door, I saw Ethan sitting in a chair in the living room. He looked sullen and brooding. His eyes were cold and frightening. I half expected him to come after me as I walked toward the door, but he didn’t.
Another part of me thought Ethan might get up, beg me for forgiveness, say he was sorry. But he didn’t do that either.
It was a warm, bright afternoon, one that would have made me normally enjoy being outside. But inside, I felt cold, cut off, distant.
I hurried to my car and strapped Chris in his car seat in the back. Once I got in, I locked the doors, hoping Ethan would stay in the house.
I drove to a Starbucks, and Chris and I just sat outside for a while. I watched traffic and just thought about my life. For some reason, I wasn’t hurting as badly as I would have expected. Yeah, I was hurt and upset, but not like I would have thought I should. Maybe I was just finally sick of Ethan’s shit.
Chris started getting fussy—he was hungry and bored, so I went to a restaurant. I had iced tea and a salad and asked for crackers for Chris. I wasn’t very hungry, but I was feeling a little better as the day wore on. By late afternoon, I was content in the idea that life goes on, and as I looked upon my son who was blissfully unaware of what had happened earlier, I realized that beauty and happiness could be found if I only looked for them.
We left the restaurant, and I sat in the car for a few minutes. We needed a place to stay. I was tired and hurting, inside and out. I knew I would always be welcome in my parents’ house, but that was a two- to three-hour drive, and I didn’t want to have to tell them what had happened. I wanted to talk with someone who cared, and my parents would have been good to talk to, but I also knew my dad would probably want to kill Ethan when he saw the bruises on my arm.
My thoughts went immediately to Brad, the man who’d been at one time my best friend…or the closest thing I’d had to one. We hadn’t had much of a friendship since Ethan and I had married, though, and I think it had been a mutual decision on the part of us both. To continue our friendship would have been inappropriate and disrespectful. But, after my parents, he was the first person I thought of. He was the person I wanted to talk to, to see, even if I didn’t tell him exactly what had happened.
But I couldn’t let him see me this way. I found my foundation in my bag and covered the discoloration on my neck. I would slip on my jacket before I knocked on his door to hide the nasty purple ones on the inside of my arm. It wasn’t that I wanted to lie to Brad, but I didn’t want him to look at the bruises and not hear a word I said.
And still…I sat in the car for a while longer, debating if I wanted to see Brad or if I just wanted to go to a hotel. I looked back at Chris. I knew Brad hadn’t seen my son in a few months, so I knew he’d like that if nothing else. Brad had become “Uncle” Brad to our son, and I wanted to encourage that relationship, considering Ethan had no siblings and I only had one. So I decided I would go, but I could find a hotel afterward if need be.
When I got to Brad’s house, it was almost dark. I felt relief when I saw a light on inside and no sign of Ethan’s truck. It would have been easy enough for Ethan to come cry on his friend’s shoulder, but he wasn’t there. I remembered too that Brad’s girlfriend Karen was living with him too, had been living with him for about a year. Karen hadn’t seemed to like me much, but we’d maintained a civil acquaintanceship. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
I sat in my car, feeling torn. Should I ask to be invited inside and take comfort in my friend or leave and cry myself to sleep in a cold, uncaring hotel room? I really wanted to see Brad but didn’t feel like I should. I had my child, and he was the most important person in my life.
That was it then. I would go. Just as I started to turn the key in the ignition, though, I heard a rap on the passenger window. I tried to smile. I really did. I hoped in the near dark, he wouldn’t be able to tell. I turned the key so I could roll down the window. “Val, what the hell are you doing here?” His voice was friendly. “Why don’t you come in?” He saw Chris in the backseat. “Oh, you brought the little guy.” He looked back at me. “Come on in.” Before I could say a word, he was opening up the backdoor and unbuckling Chris’s car seat.
I grabbed my purse and the diaper bag but left my bag in the car and followed Brad to the front door. Once we got inside, he set the car seat on the couch and unbuckled Chris. He lifted my son out. “Hey, little buddy. How’ve you been?”
Chris smiled and babbled something. Yes, he’d been talking a lot lately, but I didn’t understand everything my son said. God, that was cute, though. Chris placed his open palm on Brad’s cheek and Brad said, “Boo!” Chris giggled, that happy baby giggle, and it was infectious. I smiled as Brad set my son down.
He looked over at me. “Have a seat.” But then he cocked his head. I could tell he sensed things weren’t right with me, but I didn’t know that was what he was responding to. He came closer and looked at my neck. That told me my makeup job was shitty. “What happened?”
I forced myself to not cry, and Karen entered the room. She regarded me with an icy stare. “Valerie.” No hi, no warmth, just a simple acknowledgement, and it didn’t seem very happy.
I didn’t want to be that way, so I forced that smile back on my face. “Hi, Karen.”
“Brad, can I talk to you?”
“Just a minute.” He looked back at me, and I saw a flash in his eyes. “Did Ethan do this?”
I couldn’t answer, but I felt tears start to well up in my eyes. I heard Karen. “Brad. I need to talk to you, please.” The tone of her voice indicated she wasn’t happy with him at all. Brad just kept looking at me as though I had more answers to give. “Fuck it. I’m outta here.”
“Karen…goddammit.” He looked at me. “Give me a minute, Val. I’ll be right back.” He looked at Karen, and they went into the kitchen. I felt really uncomfortable now and was wishing I’d just gone somewhere else to stay. I got the feeling they’d been arguing before I’d even got there. For all I knew, that’s why Brad had stepped outside to begin with.
I could hear them talking in the kitchen but, fortunately, their voices were low enough that I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Chris was being cute, walking around and touching things. I would tell him no, to not grab something off a bookshelf, and he’d grin at me and run back to hug me. Then he’d get a devilish grin on his face and do it again.
That behavior was adorable, but it reminded me of Ethan. He kept doing the same things over and over and over again, and I let him. The fact that I kept coming back to him excused, condoned…hell, encouraged his behavior. Because I kept loving him in spite of all the shit he dumped on me, he thought it was okay.
It was warm in Brad’s house, and I took off my jacket, laying it beside me on the couch. I kept talking to Chris quietly, and he’d answer and giggle, so it was almost easy enough for me to pretend Brad and Karen weren’t in the other room fighting. But their voices started getting louder. Karen escalated first, and it took a while for me to hear Brad’s words. “I’m done, Brad. I don’t need this shit.”
I couldn’t hear Brad’s response, but they were quiet for a minute. Then she said, “You’re an asshole.” I could hear Brad’s voice but still couldn’t make out his response to her. “You know…I thought if I stayed, you could love me. I thought you could forget this stupid hang up you have over that…twit, but you can’t. You just can’t let it go, and this is the final straw.”
“Karen…”
“No, I’m done.”
“Karen.”
“Fuck you, Brad. I am sick and tired of competing with the memory of someone else. I’m outta here.”
I couldn’t hear what Brad said next, but her words had gotten my attention. Still, I looked at my son and smiled and tried not to eavesdrop. Then Karen said, “It doesn’t matter. I called Jimmy anyway. He’s already waiting for me.”
I heard Brad’s voice again, but what he said? Not for me.
Karen s
tormed through the room toward the bedroom, ignoring us but barely avoiding my son. I grabbed Chris up off the floor and sat on the couch. Brad walked back in the living room with a sheepish look on his face. He looked apologetic. He stood, though, and after a few minutes, Karen rushed back out of the room, a large suitcase in hand. She said, “Don’t bother trying to stop me.” She marched over to the closet and pulled out her purse, then walked to the door. “I’ll be back tomorrow to get the rest of my things.” After she stepped out, she slammed it as hard as she could. Brad sighed. He looked tired.
If it had been anyone but Brad, the silence would have been uncomfortable. Finally, Brad looked at Chris and said, “Hey, little buddy.” He looked at me. “Can he have a cookie?”
“Yeah…I think a little spoiling by Uncle Brad would be fine.”
He forced a smile, and we started walking to the kitchen, Chris still in my arms. Brad said, “Sorry you had to hear that shit.” When we got to the kitchen, he offered me a chair, and I sat with Chris on my knee. He got a couple of vanilla wafers out of his cupboard and handed them to Chris, tousling my son’s hair afterward. “So…tell me what happened.”
I looked down at my hands. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Come on, Val. I know Ethan did this. What the fuck was going on?” And that’s when he noticed my arm. He reached over and touched the bruises. “What the hell?” His brows furrowed. “Did you call the cops?”
And that’s when the tears just started to fall. I couldn’t say anything. I didn’t want to. I just wanted to let it all go. He pulled his chair closer and brought my head to his shoulder. Chris sat on the knee opposite that shoulder and before I closed my eyes, I saw him grab for a lock of Brad’s hair.
Dirty Boys: Bad Boy Rock Star Romance Box Set Page 45