by Portia Moore
“I know she’s in there, don’t make me kick the fucking door down!”
Angela and I are huddled in the doorway of my bedroom, and we hear the door open. I peek from behind the corner wall to see what’s going on. Aaron charges into the apartment when Cal opens the door for him, but stops short when he realizes who just let him in. I take it Aaron is surprised to see Cal. I assess his size—he’s a lot bigger than I remember—at least 250 pounds, 5’8”, maybe. I shudder at the thought of him hitting Hillary who weighs 120 pounds at most.
“Who the fuck are you?” Aaron says in a surprised tone.
“It doesn’t matter who I am,” Cal's face is stoic as he shuts the door and locks it. Aaron looks at him suspiciously for a moment, but then continues on his mission.
“Hillary!” Aaron yells his word slurred he’s walking toward the bedrooms. He stops when he sees us, "Is she in there?" he says frantically. I stand in the doorway, he reeks of alcohol. No way am I letting him in Hillary’s room.
"Hillary," he yells again rushing towards her door and I stand my ground in front of it Cal is right behind him. He moves his arm to push me. "Move Bit..." but before he even finishes his sentence Cal has grabbed him by the throat and has him pinned to the wall. The sound of his weight hitting the wall causes both Angela and I to gasp. Frantically, Aaron tries to break the grip Cal has on his throat, but it’s deadlocked.
Cal’s voice seems to come from deep in his throat, and it’s calm—scary calm. “You low-life piece of shit. You like to hit girls, huh? Does that make you feel good to throw around someone half your size?”
I glance at Angela, who seems to be in as much shock as I am.
“I should throw you out of that fucking window,” Cal growls. He steps back and releases his grip on Aaron’s throat, but before Aaron can get his balance, Cal punches him in the face. Aaron stumbles to the ground and tries to quickly regain his balance, but before he can stand, another punch has connected to his back, and he falls to the ground.
The scary calm has dissipated and Cal looks like he’s on the verge of exploding. “I should fucking kill you!” he shouts, the veins in his neck visible. His foot connects to Aaron’s chest. Aaron falls to the ground, attempting to catch his breath and trying to crawl away at the same time. Cal climbs on top of him and squeezes his hands around his neck again, pressing his knee into his chest.
He jerks his chin up and turns him towards me. “Apologize for calling her a bitch!?” Cal yells, applying more weight on top of him. Aaron strains to look at me. “Sorry,” he squeaks out.
“Would you have hit her if I wasn’t here? Does it make you feel good to hit women? Well, how does this feel?” Cal asks venomously. “If you ever come near them again-I’ll snap your neck like a twig. If she calls you, you better hang up. If you see her in the street, you run the other way. Do you understand?”
Aaron is starting to turn blue.
He’s going to kill him! I start to realize Cal has lost control. I run to them and try to pull Cal off of him.
“Cal, he’s turning blue,” Angela yells.
“Cal, stop,” I beg him.
“Do you understand me?” Cal yells.
“Cal you’re going to kill him, let him go!” I tell him, desperately trying to pull him away unsuccessfully.
Cal looks up at me, and I see fire behind his eyes.
“He’s not worth it; let him go, please,” I plead, tears setting in my eyes.
“He’s not worth it, babe.” Cal is in a rage. I have to get him out of it. If he kills the bastard right here, and goes to jail for the rest of his life, I’ll never forgive myself.
“He’s not, Cal, he’s not,” Angela chimes in, and he nods his head, removes his knee from Aaron’s chest, and lets his neck go. Aaron immediately balls up, gasping in as much air as he can. Cal looks at him like a dirty rat, completely disgusted, and kicks him.
I look at Aaron and think about how badly he hurt my friend. What Cal’s done still doesn’t seem like enough for how he hurt her on more than one occasion but I can’t let Cal dispense what he deserved. We all watch as Aaron starts to get up. Cal steps up to him one more time and Aaron freezes, his eyes full of fear.
“If I ever find out about you ever hitting another woman again, if I even think you’ve hit another woman again, you’re dead,” Cal warns him.
“Do you understand me?” he roars. Aaron nods frantically. Cal punches him in the stomach and he keels over.
“Open the door,” he says looking at me. I do as he says. The next thing I see is Cal pulling Aaron out into the hall and pushing him down the stairs. We watch Aaron roll down the steps. After a few seconds, he manages to literally crawl out the door. I look at Cal. I can’t believe what I’ve just seen. He looks back at both of us, but doesn’t say anything. I don’t know what to say, and Angela looks completely in shock.
“Go get her things, I’ll be in the car,” he says simply, catching his breath. And then he’s gone. I look at Angela, whose mouth is wide open.
“I don’t think he’ll be bothering Hillary anytime soon,” she says softly. All I can do is nod in agreement.
May 12th 2011
“Lauren, your Aunt is on the phone,” Angela says, holding the phone out to me. I gesture that I don’t want to talk. She gives an apologetic smile.
“Umm, she’s not here Mrs. Scott—I mean Brooks,” she bumbles. After a moment she laughs. “She says she knows you’re here, and she really needs to talk to you.”
I roll my eyes¸ and take the phone. “Hi, Raven,” I say, trying to keep the dryness from my voice.
“Hi, sweetie, how are you?” she says anxiously.
I arch my brow; I know she’s itching to tell me something. “I’m fine. What’s going on?” I ask her, feeling almost as anxious myself.
“Cal is here!,” she reveals cheerfully.
I feel my stomach drop and close my eyes, a smile spreading across my face. It’s about time; it’s been three whole days since I’ve talked to him.
“Lauren, are you there, sweetheart?”
“Yeah. I’m here.” I tell her, remembering I’m on the phone.
“He says it’s really important that he talks to you,” she says urgently.
He thinks whenever he needs something or wants something, it’s important. But when anyone else....
“Did you tell him where I am?”
“No honey, I don’t know where you are exactly.”
“Did you tell him who I’m staying with?”
“Honey, will you please talk to him? You are still his wife, even if you’re upset with him right now,” she urges me.
I roll my eyes again. This is back to the Raven I know. “I’ll talk to him,” I mumble.
“Cal, here she is,” she says happily.
“Lauren,” he says dryly. His voice doesn’t sound too urgent to me.
“Yes, Cal,” I say unenthusiastically, even though I’m really glad to hear his voice.
“Where are you?” he asks nonchalantly.
“Why? Do you actually care now? It has been almost a week, if you haven’t noticed,” I mumble bitterly.
“Look, I need you to get to the house.” He sounds annoyed.
“No.” He’s not my master; he doesn’t get to say “jump” and have me ask how high.
“This is important,” he says, his tone softening a bit.
“Important, yeah,” I laugh. I hear him sigh in frustration.
“I’m coming to pick you up,” he says, as if it’s a command.
“You don’t even know where I am.”
“Do you want me to play a guessing game?”
“You know what Cal? Whatever it is, I don’t care...”
“Lauren. Can you just meet me at the house? Please.” he interrupts.
I run my hand over my head and bite my lip. It could be a trick, him just getting me back where I don’t want to be, but there’s a hint of urgency to his voice.
“Why?” I ask, knowing I probably
won’t get an answer.
“I need to tell you in person,” he replies quietly.
“Of course, in person,” I say softly to myself.
“Fine. Fine, Cal.” I mumble, against the little voice in my head. I’ve pretty much blocked it out since I’ve met Cal—why start listening now?
“I’ll be home before the evening,” he says.
“Yeah, okay.” I sigh and hang up the phone. I can’t believe I’m even doing this.
“What happened?” Angela asks curiously.
“Cal says he needs to see me,” I tell her weakly.
She sits on the couch. “Are you going?” she asks, but from her expression, she already knows the answer.
“I’m just going to see what he wants. He said it’s important,” I say, trying to convince myself more than her.
“No judgment here,” she replies, grabbing the remote and flipping through the channels on the TV.
I roll my eyes at myself and flop down beside her. “I’m so pathetic,” I mumble and rest my head on her shoulder.
“Not pathetic; just in love,” she giggles, leaning her head on mine.
“I think being in love makes you really stupid.”
“No question about it,” she laughs. “You don’t think this is just a ploy to get you back home, convince you to stay? Because that’s what I think,” she chuckles.
“If it is, I’ll leave,” I say pointedly.
“Aww come on. Once you see him it’s all over. He starts whispering in your ear how sorry he is. Touching you in all the right places, making you forget why you were even mad in the first place....” she eyes me. God, how many times has that happened?
“Have you been stalking me?” I tease her, but I realize how perfectly that describes the end of every argument or fight we’ve ever had.
“Well, let’s get you back to the hubby,” she laughs, grabbing her keys off the table. “If you’re not staying, you won’t have to take anything with you.” She sticks her tongue out at me.
I laugh. “You’re right.” I shrug and grab my purse, following her out the door.
***
I wonder why people take the chance of falling in love. If I could go back through time, would I change the things that I’ve done? My mind says I would, but the decisions I made concerning Cal were never made logically.
Someone once told me when you’re in love, your heart takes over and your brain shuts off. I never understood what that meant when I was younger, but I do now. New love makes you look past people’s mistakes, which seem magnified later on. I look down at my wedding ring; even when I take it off, I still feel it there.
I open the door to the penthouse. Everything looks the same, as if I never left.
“Cal,” I call out, putting my purse on the console table near the door. I didn’t think he’d beat me here; it seems I was right. I turn around and lock the door behind me. I head upstairs to our room, and I can tell it’s been cleaned since I left. I sit on my bed and look around, realizing that I have actually missed being here in the comfort of my own home. Who knew? I yawn and lay back, my body relishing the down comforter beneath it. This feels amazing after the cramped stay on Angela’s couch.
***
I open my eyes and first notice that the sunlight has vanished while I slept. I look at the clock on the table and see that it’s 8:14. I got here around six. Footsteps are coming down the hall, I jump up, only to get a head-rush, and I have to sit back down on the bed. The door opens and Cal steps in. He looks at me, the expression on his face set in a hard frown.
“You’re finally up,” he says, turning on the light.
“How long have you been here?” I ask, covering a yawn escaping from my mouth trying to fully wake myself up.
“About an hour,” he says, sitting in a chair across from the bed so we’re face to face. I wonder when he brought that in. It wasn’t here earlier.
“So what did you want to talk to me about?” I sigh, secretly scolding myself for wanting his arms around me, for missing him, for being ready to forgive him if he just asked. He pulls his chair closer towards me, and sits back down. I look at him curiously, and for the first time in forever, his eyes avoid mine. We sit in silence for what seems to be the longest seconds of my life.
“Cal,” I say softly, purposefully erasing the contempt that laced my voice earlier. His eyes are scaring me. I’ve always tried to tell what he was feeling from them, but they’re avoiding me. “ He’s looking in my direction, but he’s not making eye contact.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper, almost afraid to hear the answer.
“I’ve never lied to you,” he says, his voice strong and unwavering. “And I’m not going to start now,” he sighs and drops his head down, running both hands through his hair.
My heart rate picks up. “Just say it,” I blurt out. My nerves are multiplying by the second.
He picks up my hand and holds it tightly in both of his. “I-I have to leave.”
“My expression hardens, and I pull my hand away. “You called me back for this?” I stand up, feeling my anger rise. He pulls me back down.
“Look, this is different,” his eyes widen and his tone higher.
“Everything is different with you, Cal. If you weren’t so different, maybe I wouldn’t feel so screwed up right now,” I snap, snatching away from him. I can’t believe how easily he'd fooled me? God, I was eating out of his hands. He frowns and stands up, walking towards the window; he looks out, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.
“I don’t know if I’ll be back.” I search his tone for some hint of sarcasm, but I don’t find any. “What?” I say, hoping I didn’t hear him right. He doesn’t say anything. I walk in front of him.
“Would you mind repeating yourself?” I say sharply.
“I’m going to make sure that you’re taken of. I put sixty thousand in your personal account…” he starts. My heart is beating rapidly, and his eyes still won’t connect with mine.
“What? You don’t know if you’ll be back?” I ask him frantically, trying to get my words out. He’s leaving me money? Things are going so fast in my head that I can’t even say what I want.
“Why does it sound like you’re saying that you’re leaving me?” I ask, my stomach dropping. He doesn’t say anything, which makes my heart speed up even more. I have to be jumping to conclusions. I mean, no. Cal wouldn’t leave me. We argue, we fight, we make up. This isn’t right.
“I have to,” he says. His eyes finally fall on me, and the look in them scares me. He seems helpless, and I’m suddenly terrified. My throat is starting to burn.
“Is this about me, how I’ve been acting? Is this some kind of revenge thing?” I say, hearing my voice start to crack.
“This has nothing to do with you,” he says, almost in a whisper.
“Exactly, Cal! Look what you’re saying—I’m your wife. And your decision to leave has nothing to do with me?”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“What are you talking about? Cal! Talk to me, please?” I say frantically. “Look at me!” I yell. His eyes stare past me. “What is wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?” I plead, feeling tears start to fall down my face. This isn’t the man I know; he seems broken. “Tell me what the hell is going on! Tell me what’s going on with you for once!” I beg him.
“I can’t!” he yells back, and his expression hardens.
“This isn’t about me,” he says tensely, walking away from me to the other side of the room.
“Then who is it about?” I don’t understand this is not how this is supposed to happen.
He doesn’t say anything.
“You won’t tell me that either, huh?” I say quietly, unable to stop the stream of tears escaping from my eyes. I wipe them away angrily. “What am I supposed to say, Cal? What?” I yell.
“Am I just supposed to accept you leaving? No explanations except ‘you have to.’ Not that I’ve ever gotten one from you. This won’t be any differen
t except who knows when you’ll come back? If you come back.”
“My stock dividends from the company will still be deposited in the account…” he continues.
Oh my God, he thinks I care about money that, that’s my main concern right now?
“I don’t care about the fucking money! I never cared about any of this—the trips, this house— I never needed this! All I wanted…” I’m screaming now. “All I wanted was you, can’t you see that?” my words get caught in my throat. “Say something,” my voice comes out in a whisper.
“Is there someone else?” I ask, trying to maintain what little composure I have left.
“I told you I’ve never cheated on you,” he insists, almost annoyed.
“Then why? People just don’t decide to leave out of nowhere. There has to be a reason, tell me you’re in love with someone else; that this isn’t working; that you’re in trouble; just tell me something,” I plead with him, begging for some type of explanation.
“There’s nothing I can tell you,” he says coldly, his eyes not even on me. I look at him, the person I’ve loved all these years; the man I’ve loved so much that my body ached. How many nights have I cried myself to sleep, missing him? How many times has my mind told me to walk away, and I stayed?
If it’s this easy for him, he doesn’t deserve a measure of what I’m feeling right now. He doesn’t deserve to know how much I love him. I don’t even know how to respond to this. How do you respond when your husband says he’s leaving you, and he can’t tell you why?
“What am I supposed to do?” I ask him, wanting some kind of response, some kind of answer.
“Helen and Dex will take care of anything you need…”
“Helen and Dexter?” I ask in disbelief.
“They know about this?” I yell. He looks away for the hundredth time today. “How long have you known that you were leaving me? Have you gotten bored with me, or is this just a spur of the moment thing?”
“It’s not like that,” he says, walking toward me.
I step away quickly. “Then what? Tell me what it’s like. Tell me something. Tell me why,” I say, as the burning in my throat mounts.