Forgive Us Our Trespasses

by M. L. Steinbrunn

  “Okay,” he sighs as he steps around me to hit the button for the elevator that has since left him. “No matter how this conversation goes, though; I need you to know I never lied when I said I love you. I need you to believe that, Red.” The tears invade my eyes again, and my ability to speak is constrained, so I nod. “I’ll see you later then.” He walks onto the elevator and leaves me standing alone and confused once again.

  I dressed up for the concert, thinking it would be a nice touch for opening night. Jen forced me to wear stilettos, which sucked big hairy balls at a punk rock concert. I spent the entire time thinking about what I was going to say to Brooks when I went over to his room. But now, as I ride the elevator up to our room, the time has come for our big talk and I still have no idea what I’m going to say. I follow everyone into our room, Will included, drop off my purse, and head next door. I don’t bother changing, or even taking off the death shoes; I want to get next door and figure out whatever the hell is going on.

  Other than that first night, I’ve never considered knocking, but with how things have been the last few weeks, I feel compelled to be invited in, as opposed to just walking into his dorm. I reach my fist up to tap on the door, but before my knuckles can hit the wood, it swings open. Shock spreads across my face. When I see the figure standing before me, I take what might be the hardest breath I’ve ever had to take. I was expecting to see Brooks, open arms or not; that’s who was supposed to be behind that door. Instead, a tousled version of Amber, with smeared make-up and tangled hair is there, with a smug expression that only Jen could wipe off.

  “Oh, hello. Veronica, is it?” she says, straightening her shirt. “I think you might be a little early.”

  I try to make my mouth move to correct her, to yell at her, anything, but I just stand there like a victim of the situation. No matter how hard I try, I can’t get sound past my lips.

  She giggles at me. “He’s in the shower right now, but don’t worry, I’m sure he can see you soon. But I can’t imagine why; he got more than he could handle this evening,” she adds. I am in complete disbelief at what I’m hearing, what I’m witnessing. When I still say nothing, she huffs and tries to move around me. Just before she gets past me, she leans in close and whispers, “You had to know revenge was coming; trash like you never wins.”

  I allow her to walk a step or two before all of my fury bubbles to the surface, and I detonate. “Amber,” I spit out, turning to face her once again. I shake with rage as I step towards her; the heartache that settled into my stomach transforms into a giant ball of confidence and wrath. I ball my fist, and when she turns around, I push all of my weight forward, swinging as hard as I possibly can in the direction of her face. I’m not exactly aiming at any one spot; anywhere on her pretty little face is sufficient. My knuckles land on her nose; I can feel the bones crunch under the force of my hand. She flies backwards and stumbles to the floor with a squeal; blood begins to flow from her nose.

  I move over her, and she flinches. “I’m glad you feel good about what you did this evening; it made it all the easier for me to show you how we take out the trash in the country, even rich, city trash,” I state simply before turning on my heel to walk to my room.

  When I turn around, my roommates and Will are standing in my doorway watching my confrontation. Their mouths are hanging open, and their eyes are as wide as saucers. Well, except for Jen, she’s smiling, almost gloating. “I don’t want to talk about it right now,” I tell them as I push through the group to get to my room. I’m humiliated and hurt; talking to anyone about what happened would only make this despair worse.

  My body collapses onto my bed, and the gravity of the situation slaps me in the face. The pain of my pulsing bloody hand is nothing compared to the pain in my devastated heart. He promised not to break me and he did it anyway. I can barely suck in breaths between my cries. I bury my face in my pillow to muffle the sound because I don’t want to draw any more attention to myself than I already have. I’m mad at myself for letting my guard down and believing that Brooks could be different. He is a liar and a cheater. I make a promise to myself that I won’t make the same mistake twice.

  Brooks

  I hear the argument in the hallway and wait. I knew it would happen, just not like this. I thought of every possible way to end this, but this was the only way I could think of that would make it permanent. I listen until silence returns to the floor and begin my walk to Vivian’s room. I tried to prepare myself for the yelling, the crying, for all of the scenarios of her reaction when I set this up, but it still tore my heart out to do it.

  I don’t get very far. Instead of Vivian, Will is waiting for me. On some level, I was expecting that, too.

  “You have lost your fucking mind if you think I’m going to let you knock on this door,” Will growls at me. His arms are crossed over his chest, and his scowl is so deep, it looks like his eyebrows are touching. He looks intimidating as fuck, and if I didn’t need this to happen, I would consider running for my life. “I don’t care what strings your dad has to pull; I want you out of our room by the time we get back from break. Vivian shouldn’t have to see your sorry ass, and frankly, I don’t think I could stomach seeing you either.”

  “I don’t need to talk to her, Will. She is never going to give me another chance, and I don’t want one. I came to talk to you.” His arms fall to his sides, and the ridge between his eyes flattens out as his eyebrows begin to climb into his hairline. I’ve been dreading this discussion because it would tear my heart from my body, but for once, I need to do the right thing. “Also, I already have new living arrangements; none of you guys will ever have to see me again.”

  “Brooks, I came out here to kick your ass; what the fuck is going on here?” he asks me, and I ignore him. I need to get through this speech, and if a deviate, I may lose my nerve.

  “Just listen, please,” I tell him. “I need you to promise that you will take care of her and that you’ll love her with your every breath every day, because it’s something I couldn’t do. I know that eventually she will love you, but I need to know that she will have everything that she deserves. If you can promise to do that, then you win, Will; you’re the better man.”

  I stand back and let him think about what I’m saying. “Can I speak now?” he asks and I gesture for him to continue. “We need to get something straight. What you did tonight was beyond fucked up, especially because I’m getting the sense that you did it on purpose for the sole reason of chasing Vivian away. I don’t know why, and I really don’t give a damn. All that matters to me is that girl in there, who is heartbroken. You don’t need to ask how I would treat her, or if I can promise to love her. I don’t care if it takes every day of the rest of my life to put her shattered heart back together; I would be grateful just to have the chance. And I certainly wouldn’t throw it away for whatever dumbass reason that you have going on. I am completely and madly in love with her, and no slutty sorority girl in a tight skirt would change that. I’m not you, Brooks. I will always be the better man, and I don’t need you to say it for me to know it.”

  When he finishes speaking, he walks back into the girls’ room and slams the door behind him, leaving me alone in the floor commons area. Every one of his words is true, but it doesn’t make them sting any less. They shred whatever bits of my heart I have left, and I stand there a wilted man. This was the right thing to do, and it hurts like hell. I only hope that the pain deadens over time, because now, it’s all I have–a forever without my Clover.

  2012

  Vivian

  “Babe, have you seen Cricket’s shoes? We’ve looked everywhere and can’t find them,” Will shouts from Emma’s room. I finish brushing my hair into a messy bun, and head out the bathroom door to retrieve the missing shoes. They are at the front door, of course, along with all of the other shoes. I’m not sure why we still have to go through this daily scavenger hunt, when the shoes–surprise, surprise–never move unless the kids’ feet are in them.

/>   I swing down, pick up her sparkly pink shoes, and travel toward the contagious laughter coming from her room. Leaning into the doorframe, I cradle her shoes and watch as Will rolls around on the ground with our daughter. She tries to get away from his grip, but he finds a leg or an arm and pulls her back into his continuous tickles. I’m glad I hadn’t fixed her hair yet, as the carpet static has taken hold and her hair is sticking up in all directions; her curls are now a giant ball of fuzz on top of her head. It warms my heart to see them like this, and a smile creeps across my face as I silently eavesdrop on them.

  “Bombs away,” Blake screams, barreling past me and jumping on Will’s back. With the distraction, Emma is able to slip free from Will’s grasp and jumps on his back. Both kids are shouting, “Get Daddy, get Daddy!” I only laugh because I know the next move in the usual tickle game of theirs. Will reaches back and plucks them off one-by-one and pins them to the ground; he then alternates between the two, tickling them mercilessly. They both become breathless and beg for mercy, and that’s my cue to intervene.

  “Okay, Daddy, I think you won,” I chuckle, stepping into the room. All three have collapsed onto the ground on their backs, recovering from their near-hyperventilation. I dangle Emma’s shoes over their heads, “Come on, guys. If we don’t hurry, we’re going to be late for the game.”

  “See, guys? Nothing is actually lost unless Momma doesn’t know where it’s at,” Will says. Oh what a true statement that is. I love this man, but man, he is constantly losing things. All is lost, the world is ending, because Will has lost his keys, or wallet, or favorite Bronco hat…again. Usually it’s sitting in plain sight. There is no magic GPS app imbedded under my skin, but I’ll certainly let them all continue to believe in my super-human tracking powers.

  Will reaches up to take the shoes, but instead of taking hold of them, he grabs my wrists and begins to pull me down to the ground. “Mommy’s turn; get her!”

  I gasp in surprise and am thrown off balance enough that I tumble to the floor. Blake and Emma immediately begin wiggling their miniature fingers against my sides and under my arms. I join in the fun and laugh, but it’s not until Will begins to attack my knees that I lose complete control. My hands fly to his, trying to push away from his strong grip and scream through laughs, pleading for him to release me.

  “What do you think, guys? Have we tortured her enough?” he asks the kids.

  “Yes,” I yelp. “Momma’s done. Will, please,” I add with a giggle.

  “All right, I think she paid the toll. Let’s get up and finish getting ready.” The kids jump up immediately, and Will slowly stands, holding a hand out to help me up. I lay flat for a minute in silent protest before taking his offer.

  Once I’m standing again, I reach up to feel my disheveled hair. It had been a stylish messy up-do; now it’s closer to the rat’s-nest messy end of the spectrum. “Will, look at this mess. We need to be leaving, and now I have to go re-fix my hair,” I whine.

  “Hush, woman, there could be an actual bird nesting in there and you’d still be gorgeous,” he says, pointing to my hair. “Now, grab your bag and let’s go soccer it up.” He slaps my ass hard enough to make me squeal, and then waltzes out of the bedroom grinning.

  “Load up, crew!” I hear him yell from the hallway, as I stand in place, rubbing my injured butt-cheek. His playfulness was always something I adored about him, but sometimes, I swear it feels like I’m raising three kids instead of two.

  After a quick hair intervention for Emma and myself, as well as a round of, ‘Hun, have you seen the car keys?’ we all make it to the SUV. Armed with our chairs, cooler, sparkly shoes, and shin guards, we pull away from our comfortable little farm house, and out onto the dirt driveway to head to the next town over for Blake’s peewee soccer game.

  I knew that when Will and I moved back to my hometown after we got married, life would slow down. I’ve experienced both ways of living, and rural life is drastically different from in the city. Trips to the nearest grocery store are planned events. Attending your kids’ sporting events always means travelling more than thirty minutes to another town. Everyone knows everyone, and is always interested in the latest gossip; thus, you never go on said grocery trip in your sweatpants, because you WILL run into someone you know or are related to. The thing is I never appreciated those things growing up; I saw it all as an inconvenience. Now that we have children though, I value our little cocoon; it’s small, and it’s safe.

  The kids in the back seat are busy singing the newest songs that they’ve been taught at preschool–ones that I’ve learned to tune out after hearing them for the millionth time. What is cute one minute can quickly feel like nails on a chalkboard, and turning up the car stereo encourages them to belt out their tunes even louder. So Will and I have mastered the skill of tuning out while in the car. It’s a fine art.

  I stare out the window, into the never-ending corn and alfalfa fields, most of which have already been harvested. The corn that is still in the ground will be used for cow feed, and many farmers have begun readying their acreage for late planting. The rows of fields are almost hypnotic.

  These are the times when I let my mind travel to places it shouldn’t…Brooks. I know that I absolutely love Will; he pieced me back together when I thought I was broken beyond repair. He loved me until I was ready to love myself again. But every now and then, Brooks will infiltrate the security that Will and I built together. He and I were a lifetime ago, and as much as I wish I didn’t, I still have this space in my heart for him. As much as I love Will, Brooks is someone I could never forget.

  I feel Will’s large hand wrap around my thigh; he gently squeezes, pulling me from my thoughts. “What’s going on in that head of yours, love? You worried about the kids staying at Charlotte’s house tonight?” he asks with a gentle smile.

  “No, the kids will be fine. I’m just thinking about the lesson plans and grading I need to get done tomorrow for school on Monday.” I’m completely lying through my teeth, but I’m positive that he wouldn’t want to hear, nor would he understand the truthful version. I don’t regret for one second my life with Will; he and the kids have become my life. But there are times that Brooks creeps in, and I think about what life would have been like with him. I don’t know what was going on with him, why he cheated, but I never got a chance to find out. No sooner did our relationship end, he left school and I never heard from him again. It left a void in me that Will eventually fixed.

  A crooked grin spreads across his face, “Well, I promise you’ll want to sleep in before you get started on school stuff tomorrow. I have plenty planned to keep you awake tonight. We haven’t been on a date night in months, and I’m not going to waste a single second of it.”

  I reach my hand up to the back of Will’s neck and begin lightly scratching the base of his hairline with my fingernails. It’s one of his favorite things, and his eyes close briefly to enjoy the sensation. “I’m ready for whatever you’ve got, Mr. Matthews,” I coo into his ear as I lean across the seat console.

  He takes his hand off my thigh and grips the steering wheel tightly; a low throaty groan escapes his mouth. I pat his neck and return to my seat with a huge grin on my face; yup, we both can be playful. “You are a wicked woman, Mrs. Matthews,” he says, attempting to adjust himself. “You’ll pay for that later,” he adds with a wink.

  “I’m counting on it,” I tell him, reaching across the seat to feel his excitement, which only makes his condition worse. He quickly removes my hand and places it on my own thigh. “As much I love where this is headed, we are almost there, and I don’t want to be the creepy dad at the game who can’t stand and cheer for his son because his zipper is about to break.”

  I laugh and hold my hands up in surrender, “Sorry, take a second and get it under control; I need you to carry all of the stuff to the field.”

  Will glances at me from the corner of his eye, “I’m glad you find me useful. I am here to serve,” he jokes.

  As
soon as he pulls into the parking lot and puts the car into park, both kids unbuckle and begin to demand that we open their doors. Thank goodness for child lock, or on multiple occasions we would have had two small children running wild in between cars before we could even get our seatbelts off.

  Will hits the button for the back hatch, and we pile out to let the munchkins loose and gather our soccer tailgating supplies. We make our way to the field to set up our cheering site along the sideline. Charlotte and her husband, Elton, are already there, along with my mother.

  “Gram!” Emma shouts, breaking away from my hand and running to Mom, hopping into her lap. “I get to stay at Aunt Charlotte’s tonight. Daddy said he’s sending me with candy to share with everyone.”

  Charlotte and my mom both shoot deadly glares our way, but Will completely ignores them, leaving me to respond. “He was only kidding; if we send them with anything, it will be highly-nutritious snacks that will only further their growth and improve their percentile range at their next well-child check-up.” Sensing my sarcasm, they both roll their eyes.

  “Well, isn’t that thoughtful of your daddy, but we have plenty of snacks at our house you can have,” Charlotte says in her most condescending tone.

  We move our chairs just a tad out of range of them, so that we can actually enjoy the game. I love my family, but I want to watch Blake play soccer, not listen to my mom and Charlotte gossip and carry-on about everyone in our little town, judge mine and Will’s parenting skills, or lecture me for the hundredth time that I needed to stay home with my children instead of pretending like I’m some kind of career woman. Yup, the circle of love is suffocating.

  Will and I sit down in our matching CSU lawn chairs, and he finally takes notice of my family. He enjoys them as much as I do. “Hey, guys! Happy Saturday,” he says in an overly-pleasant voice. “Are you still good for tonight, Charlotte?”