Married to My Enemy

by Nicole Elliot

  I swallowed a sigh.

  “Honey,” I said patiently. “Mommy can’t be late for class today, okay? We have to go. You can tie your shoes tomorrow.”

  “But…” he began, but I cut him off with a look. That look was more powerful than any of the protests he could throw my way. He knew that look meant I wasn’t having any of it.

  He settled down with a pout.

  I grabbed his foot and gently pulled it to me. I tied his shoe and then grabbed the other foot. When he was finally ready to go, he jumped to his feet and I wrapped his backpack around his shoulders.

  “Come on,” I said. We hurried into the living room and I picked up my bag. With Noah’s hand in mine, we ran outside to the parking lot.

  I buckled Noah in his car seat and jumped inside. Firing up the engine, I threw the car in reverse and sped out of my parking spot.

  When I finally reached the highway, I checked the clock and groaned. I only had twenty minutes to get to class and I still had to drop Noah off at the campus daycare.

  It was only my first day and I was already off to a horrible start.

  We reached campus and I pulled up to the daycare. I jumped out and grabbed Noah from the backseat. I grunted as I picked him up but didn’t stop.

  He protested while I carried him inside, but I only had five minutes to get to class and I didn’t have time for him to walk.

  “Have a great day,” I said, a little breathless from the walk-run action I just did.

  I kissed Noah’s forehead and pushed him toward the classroom. He waved at me and disappeared inside.

  I didn’t waste another minute. I flew back outside and hurried toward my car.

  Speeding across campus, I pulled up to the science building right as class began. I hated being late, but I couldn’t miss class. When I reached the classroom, I peered through the window and saw that the professor had already started the lesson. I groaned and closed my eyes. Interrupting class wasn’t the way to make a good first impression.

  With a deep breath, I pushed open the door slowly. I tried to make as little noise as possible. I stepped inside and pulled the door softly closed behind me. The click was still loud, but only a few people turned around.

  I hurried to the first empty seat I could find. It was in the back row, but I didn’t care. I was just glad I made it before class ended.

  Someone in my row handed me a syllabus and I mouthed a silent “thank you.” She nodded and turned her attention back to the front of the room. I read through the syllabus at lightning speed. It all seemed pretty standard, nothing out of the ordinary. Once I was sure I understood, I tucked it in my bag and pulled out my notebook. With my pen in hand, I focused on the professor.

  In reality, I probably didn’t miss anything important. By the time I started taking notes, the professor had only just begun the lesson. Still, I felt like a failure already.

  Here I was on my first day of medical school at UConn and I was already behind. I shook my head to myself and scribbled furiously.

  The students on either side of me took notes quickly as well. I looked around and smiled.

  Everyone in the room was intensely focused on the professor’s words. This was the kind of classroom I wanted to be a part of. There were only about twenty students, but we were all there for the same reason: to become doctors. Our goal wasn’t just to get a degree and then forget everything we learned. We wanted to help people, to save lives. Everything we learned now would help us for the rest of our careers.

  Now that I had arrived and class was underway, I let myself relax and enjoy the moment.

  While I continued to take notes, I grinned widely. I couldn’t believe I was here. I made it to medical school. It took me years, but I did it.

  I felt a wave of pride wash over me and my smile grew. If anyone looked at me, they would have thought I was crazy, but they didn’t know everything I went through to get to that moment.

  After spending four years raising a son, I never imagined I would have the chance to study medicine. I put my dreams on hold and focused solely on Noah for so long that I almost forgot I was a real person.

  My name was “Mom” and my job description was everything that went along with that name. Who cared that I once had dreams of my own? It didn’t matter anymore, not when my son needed new clothes or food to eat.

  For four years, I worked nonstop to support Noah. I did the best I could, but I let myself go in the process. It had been years since I so much as cracked open a book. When my brother suggested I go back to school, I thought he was insane.

  “I don’t have time,” I had told him.

  There were too many things for me to juggle as it was being a single mom.

  What would I do with Noah? How could I be both a full-time mom and a med student?

  To me, the answer was simple: I couldn’t.

  My brother didn’t let up though. When Joe got an idea in his mind, he ran with it. For months, he pressured me into applying. When I finally did, I never thought I would be accepted. I only sent in the application to shut Joe up.

  Getting my acceptance letter felt like a dream. It felt like I was living someone else’s life. Even with the piece of paper in my hands, I couldn’t believe it was happening. I still wasn’t sure I could go.

  After countless conversations with Joe, I decided to try.

  We celebrated Noah’s fourth birthday and a week later, here I was, in my first class of medical school.

  I was still grinning like an idiot when I turned over the first page of my notebook. I wished I had a computer to take notes on, I could already tell that my hand was going to be exhausted by the end of class. I stretched my hand and continued writing.

  As the professor spoke, my mind had less chances to drift. The content became more complicated and I didn’t want to miss a single word. I made a mental note to bring a recorder to my all my classes this year. These lessons were too important, I couldn’t risk making a mistake.

  I had sacrificed so much to just be in medical school. It was Noah’s last year before he started kindergarten and I had been looking forward to spending time with him. Now, I would see him less and less. This year would fly by and he would be in school in no time. The idea brought tears to my eyes, but I knew I was doing the right thing.

  Noah deserved a mom who chased her dreams. Not one who sat around and lived a mediocre life. I had to teach him how to fight for things. I had to show what was truly important in life.

  So far, I thought I had done a good job raising him. He was a sweet, polite little boy. All his daycare teachers loved him. His uncle Joe was his best friend and my friends adored him.

  Still, I wanted more for him than a cramped one bedroom apartment. I wanted to give him everything.

  As class continued, I glanced around the room again. I couldn’t stare at my notebook any longer. My eyes were beginning to water. I squeezed them closed and looked around me. It was a short break, but it was long enough to take in the faces of my fellow students. There were so few of us that I knew I would learn everyone’s name by the end of the month. We would be in all the same classes and labs. Our clinical would be together. At the end of these four years, I imagined we would all be like family.

  When my eyes fell on a familiar face, I almost fell out of my chair.

  I felt my body go weak and my heart begin to race. I blinked hard, sure I was seeing things. When I looked back at him, I knew I wasn’t mistaken.

  It was Wyatt.

  Wyatt Murphy was sitting three rows in front of me with his eyes locked on the professor. I could only see the side of his face, but it was enough. I would know him anywhere.

  Wyatt’s sandy blonde hair was shorter than I remembered. It no longer covered his face, but it was still long enough that he had to toss it out of his eyes every few minutes. The curve of his nose and the set of his chin looked so familiar it made my heart ache.

  I couldn’t believe my eyes. Class was almost over, but I had completely lost where I
was. My notes lay forgotten in front of me and I couldn’t hear a word the professor said.

  My ears were ringing and my pulse was still picking up speed. Shit.

  I watched Wyatt closely, wondering why he was there. The last thing I knew about Wyatt Murphy was that he was stationed overseas.

  I didn’t even know he was back home. I wondered how long he had been back in Bradberry, if he was staying with his mom, if he was out of the Army for good, and a thousand other things.

  My mind was racing when the professor dismissed us. His words shook me back to reality and I jerked my head away from Wyatt. The need to get away from his presence had me grabbing my things and haphazardly packing them into my bag.

  I needed to get out of there, and fast.

  I flew out of the room a few seconds later like hounds from hell were nipping at my heels. I was the first one in the hallway and I didn’t stop running until I reached the women’s restroom.

  I hurled myself into a stall and fell against the wall.

  Breathing heavy, I tried to calm down, but I couldn’t.

  Shit. Shit, shit, shit!

  Everything was spinning and I didn’t know how to make it stop. If Wyatt was in that class, he would be in all the others. I knew I couldn’t avoid him forever, but I also wasn’t ready to face him. Not after the way things ended between us.

  Over four years ago, Wyatt left town with barely a goodbye. We had been together for years, but he didn’t bother to discuss his decision to enlist with me. His father died and Wyatt pulled away from everyone and everything he once loved.

  Everyone including me.

  He became a different person. Someone I didn’t recognize.

  A sad, lonely soul.

  I wanted to save him, but I couldn’t. His father’s death ruined us both.

  I could still remember the day he told me his father died. It stood out so clearly in my mind. Just thinking about it made my stomach tighten and my throat feel dry. I swallowed hard and tried not to think about it anymore.

  I could push him from my mind. I could if I tried really hard.

  It had become easier to do as the years passed.

  But seeing him again had undone all the work I had done trying to put him out of my mind.

  I knew this time I couldn’t push thoughts of him to the back of my mind. I was already reeling after seeing Wyatt for the first time in almost five years.

  I closed my eyes and pictured his face the way I remembered it. His hair long and his brown eyes full of life.

  He wasn’t yet broken in those visions. He was just Wyatt. Fun, adventurous, cocky Wyatt.

  But that boy was gone, and this man in his place? I wasn’t sure who he was at all.

  And him being here just meant trouble for me.

  The life I had built for myself and Noah was going to crumble at my feet, I just knew it.

  Chapter Four: Hailey

  I was with Wyatt when he got the news.

  His mom called while we were at dinner. We were laughing about something stupid, I can’t remember what, when his phone rang.

  He was still chuckling softly when he answered. His voice was light-hearted and full of happiness when he said, “Hello,” into the phone.

  I watched as the smile faded from his face and his shoulders slumped forward. We had been dating for over three years and I had never once seen him look like that.

  His brown eyes darkened until they were almost black and he nodded slowly, listening to his mom’s voice. I couldn’t hear what she said, but I could hear the rise and fall of her voice.

  Whatever was going on, it was bad. Really bad.

  I watched Wyatt closely, straining my ears to hear what his mom was saying. All I could hear was her occasional sobs and a soft whisper. My eyes were glued to Wyatt’s face, but he didn’t look at me until he hung up the phone.

  As he set the phone down on the table, his eyes rose to meet my gaze. I reached across the table and took his hand in mine. He let me, but he didn’t move to return my hold. His fingers were cold and limp in mine.

  He looked like a statue, sitting there with wide eyes and a vacant expression. Deep down, I knew what the news was, but I waited for him to tell me. I didn’t want to assume the worst until I knew. Until he said the words.

  It was minutes before Wyatt moved again.

  Slowly, he began to shake his head side to side. Our waiter came over to bring us the check. I took it and waved him away impatiently, my eyes never leaving Wyatt’s face.

  I wanted him to know I was there. I wouldn’t speak. I wouldn’t move. Not until he did, but I would be there with him.

  I would sit at that table in that restaurant all night if that was what he needed.

  While Wyatt processed the news, his expression slowly began to change. He no longer looked empty, he looked sad and determined. Then thunderous.

  His eyes hardened and he looked at me with a steely glint that made me want to turn away from him.

  I didn’t.

  Not now when he needed me.

  I held his gaze and waited for him to speak. When he finally did it was just two words. Just two words that would change his entire life and I didn’t know it yet, but mine too.

  “He’s gone.”

  The words hung in the air between us for several moments.

  The air between us seemed to still even though the rest of the world continued to move around us. My vision was blurred around the edges, the only solid thing was Wyatt. Sounds – the click and clatter for cutlery being used, laughter and incoherent conversations - became muted as if coming from a great distance.

  I nodded slowly and held his hand tighter in mine. We were frozen in time as we sat there. Wyatt didn’t move. I rubbed my thumb back and forth across the back of his hand and waited.

  I would wait as long as he needed. And longer still.

  He suddenly stood up. His chair scraped loudly on the floor. The sound drew the attention of some of the other diners but I didn’t care. My sole focus was Wyatt and what he needed.

  Our hands broke apart with the move, the connection between us severed.

  I followed his movement and tried to grab his hand again. He didn’t let me.

  “I need to get home,” he said in the way of explanation, the words emotionless.

  I didn’t know it then, but these were the last words he would speak to me in quite a while. Wyatt didn’t say anything again until we were at his house.

  He didn’t look at me, opting to train his eyes over my shoulder. He just turned and walked out of the restaurant.

  I made to go after him but the sight of the waiter reminded me of our bill. I paid the charges and ran after Wyatt.

  Wyatt was waiting for me next to his car. In the empty parking lot, he was a desolate figure.

  “I can drive,” I said softly when I caught up with him.

  He held the keys in his hands, but he was shaking. I was afraid he was too upset to drive. I tried to take the keys from him, but he jerked away from me and shook his head.

  I backed off and let him climb into the driver’s seat. Walking around the other side, I took a few deep breaths and tried to hold myself together.

  I had met Wyatt’s dad plenty of times before, but he was away so often that we hadn’t gotten a chance to bond. Still, I felt his loss like a brick in my stomach.

  I couldn’t imagine how Wyatt must have felt in that moment or how his mom would survive it. All I could think about was how to be there for them both. I pulled open the car door and climbed inside, determined to do whatever I could to help.

  We drove quickly through town.

  Wyatt didn’t slow down until he pulled into his driveway. He ran inside and I followed.

  Wyatt’s mom was sitting at the kitchen table. She had her cellphone in front of her, but she wasn’t looking at it. Instead, she stared out of the kitchen window with silent tears streaming down her face.

  All I could think when I saw her was that she was the picture of hea
rtbreak. If an artist tried to capture the image of a broken heart, Mrs. Murphy would had been it.

  I ached for her. I took a step forward, but Wyatt was faster. He flew across the room and knelt down beside his mom. She didn’t speak, but she turned to look at him. Wyatt pulled her against him and held her while she cried.

  My eyes were glued to Wyatt’s face the whole time. I could hear Mrs. Murphy sniffing and sobbing, but I couldn’t bring myself to look away from her son. Wyatt was my boyfriend and I loved him. It was his job to take care of his mom, but it was my job to take care of him. The only problem was I didn’t know how.

  Slowly, I moved across the kitchen and began brewing a pot of coffee. I didn’t know why, it was just an instinct. In moments of crisis, people need something to do with their hands. Wrapping them around a warm coffee mug seemed like a good idea.

  I made the coffee and carried three mugs to the table. I poured coffee into each mug and slid two across the table to Wyatt and his mom.

  “Thank you, Hailey,” Mrs. Murphy said weakly.

  She didn’t touch the coffee, but my feelings were not hurt. I didn’t expect her to drink it.

  When she finally pulled away from Wyatt, his eyes were still dry. His face was set and hard, not a single sign of pain or weakness shone through. I knew he was putting on a good face for his mom, but I wasn’t sure how long it would last. I wanted to be there when he broke. I wanted to help him through it.

  “Why don’t you go home?” Wyatt said not unkindly. They were not kind either. His words were firm and he still refused to look directly at me. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “I can stay,” I said quickly. “I don’t mind.”

  “No,” he shook his head. “We’re fine.”

  “But-”

  I started to protest again but he cut me off.

  “Go home, Hailey,” he repeated, voice harder now. “I don’t need you here.”

  I jerked as if he had struck me. I reeled from his sudden lack of patience with me. From his words. He had never spoken to me like that before.

  It felt like a physical blow.

  “We’ll talk in the morning,” he continued, but he wasn’t even looking at me now. He turned back to tend to his mom.