by Paige, Tylor
I was so stupid. I loved Ethan and was leaving him to go back to a man I despised. A man I didn’t even know anymore. I curled up inside my bunk and let myself cry.
I had no idea how I was going to do this. I was walking away from a great guy. I used to see a future with him, but that future didn’t have babies and hard drugs in it. I cried until I could barely breathe. Soon I was heaving and sure enough my nausea returned, which turned into me leaping to the bathroom to vomit.
I couldn’t choose. It was too hard. Ethan meant so much to me. Either go with him and ruin his life or leave and break both of our hearts. Could I really do that to him? I was such an awful person. He was trying to tell me he was in love with me, and I ran. Again. I climbed back into my bunk. Closing my eyes tight I tried not to think about what I was giving up.
Finally, sometime in the middle of the night, I pulled out my phone and text Chris. Telling him when and where to pick me up. I was going home. This kid better appreciate the sacrifices I was already making. He or she would have a good life, even if I was settling. They would only know happiness. Never want for anything. I would make sure of that.
Chapter Nine
Where We Went Wrong
Five years later
I celebrated my 26th birthday alone. Opening up a bottle of pink moscato, I poured myself a glass as I sat in my little home studio trying to work out some kinks our newest song had. There were a lot of them.
Adrian called to wish me a happy birthday. He wanted to be here, but he couldn’t get away from whatever he was doing this week. Christopher didn’t like the guys, so they stayed away most of the time now.
Mark and Derek called too. Mark was on vacation with his new wife Renee. Derek only called to make sure I would be okay alone. They all moved to California, while I stayed in Michigan. We were over 2,000 miles apart now. I spent most nights like this, so one more night wouldn’t make much of a difference. As I poured myself another glass I thought about how I got here.
I told Christopher I was pregnant the night I returned home from the tour. At first he was in shock, but then he grinned, hugged me, and then promptly called his mother. She was getting worse and could use some good news, he told me.
He promised me the world. He screwed up before, but he was going to change. He swore up and down. I wanted to believe his stories, so I did.
Of course, all the promises he made that night in the diner were all lies. There was no pool, and the remodeled bathroom meant he had someone add different wallpaper. Those things didn’t bother me as much as how gullible I had been.
When I came home, we had a long talk about his affair. He confessed to everything. It started off innocent enough, but long nights doing paperwork and prepping for cases together things started to get flirty.
“You were always gone. I felt lost, neglected, I liked feeling like someone cared,” he said. That stung a little. Before I discovered them together, I used to call every night. I truly cared for him. He swore that he let her go and would no longer have any contact with her. I believed him, because I needed to. I was desperate to feel that he still loved me.
I pretended it was the pregnancy hormones making me crazy when he came home smelling of different perfume. He told me it was mine, and that my senses were just going wacky. I struggled to remember just when I bought the lacy bra that was way too big for me. Chris explained that he ordered it for me for when my breasts enlarged. I even went as far as to believe he happened to meet Holly at his hotel during a conference because she had a list of potential nannies for us. I was stupid and miserable, while Chris was on top of the world. But I remembered Adrian’s words to me that day on the bus. I had made a choice, and I couldn’t take it back.
Halfway through my pregnancy we went for an ultrasound. We were going to discover the gender. I wanted a little boy. A little Ethan. He wanted a girl to name after his mother, Clara Sue. If it was a boy, he wanted Christopher Junior. I wasn’t too keen on either name, but I went along with it to appease him.
I lay on the table with my t-shirt pushed up, staring at the monitor. The lady doing the procedure had an odd look on her face as she started furiously moving the wand around.
Chris had been standing off to the side, bored. Finally he turned to her and saw the same look on her face.
“Is there something wrong?” He asked, his voice carried an air of authority that normally frightened me. Today it was comforting. I knew that if something was wrong he would fix it. The woman shook her head and then smiled.
“No sir. I was just trying to confirm something we had apparently missed before.”
Chris leaned towards the screen and squinted. I couldn’t really tell much. I saw a tiny head and a bunch of other lines that were confusing.
“Well, what is it?” He demanded. The woman smiled again and moved the wand around until we saw two giant balls which I could tell were only one thing.
“Twins?” I whispered in shock.
“Twins,” she answered me excitedly. There was a moment where we all stared at the screen, watching the two babies wiggle around each other. Christopher broke the silence.
“Well how about that? On our first try! Can you see what they are?” He asked her, happy for the first time in a while. After a more thorough examination she was able to tell us that I was having one boy and one girl.
That night just like most nights since I returned home, Chris drove off to tell the news to his “mother”, while I sat at home and tried to figure out how to make the best of the situation. Twins. Leaving now would be that much harder. He was excited, and I was depressed. I had been so naive.
Five months later, I drove myself to the hospital. I had called him and told him I was in labor and needed him, but he was busy and would come when he could. I couldn’t wait forever though, and him showing up with Holly made my water break right then and there. I gave birth two hours later to my son Dallas, and my daughter Jimmy, not giving a damn about what he wanted to name them.
After finishing a second glass of wine I stood up and left my studio. There wasn’t any music being made tonight. I walked through my house, thinking about all the false hope I had for this place. I was going to turn this house into a home. We were going to be a happy family. I would still be able to make music, and Chris would continue climbing the political ladder. Only one of those dreams ended coming true, and they certainly weren’t any of mine. Holding tight to my glass, I sat down on the couch and turned the TV on. I began flipping through the channels and settled on a music channel. There was a block of music videos. Many of the people on the screen, I had met and used to know personally. It only depressed me more. I was just about to switch the channel when the music videos ended and a familiar news anchor came into view. I remembered, after every show this channel liked to have her do five minutes of music related news.
I was mildly interested in the news, but suddenly a familiar band logo appeared in a small box in the top right corner of the screen. Cruel Distraction. I took a gulp of my wine and sat up a little straighter. What was going on with them these days? The woman replied to my unspoken question.
“In other news, the popular alternative rock band Cruel Distraction is taking a break from touring. Their last album, Typical Tease, went platinum breaking three different records. After their show last night the band reportedly were partying in a local hotel. A call was made to 911 saying that Ethan Andrews had overdosed.”
My heart began pounding out of my chest as his face came on the screen. In the corner was a photo of him, while a video of the band played on the screen. Overdose?
“The heartthrob vocalist has struggled with drug addiction for almost six years now. The band’s manager and Ethan’s proxy admitted him to a rehabilitation facility this morning after he was released from the local hospital. He is now resting and will be undergoing treatment until further notice. We were able to catch up with Spencer Darwish, the bands bassist who spoke to us about the band’s future.”
Spencer
appeared on the screen, visibly annoyed at being pestered by whoever was behind the camera. “We aren’t really thinking about what will happen to the band right now. We just want our friend to get better and we plan to be there for support.”
“We wish Ethan the best and hope this isn’t the end for a band that has already achieved so much success with their previous albums.” They cut back to the newswoman who smoothly changed subjects.
“Does anybody remember the one hit wonder “When in Rome”? Well the group Badgers is back with a new song…” She continued but I lost interest. I sat back, setting the glass down, I took in the information.
My heart still ached for him. Just seeing his face made it react fiercely. I usually tried not to think about the decision I had made. It was for the best, I had told myself at the time. He could still have his career, and not worry about me. I thought I had been helping him. But, as it turned out, I had just made it worse.
Overdose. I repeated it again. I was having trouble absorbing the fact that he wasn’t okay. Something inside me twisted, making me sad again. I longed for him. I longed for the life I could have had with him. Traveling, making music. His face popped back into my mind and I chocked back a sob. I let my head fall back onto the cushion. I guess life really wasn’t greener on the other side. I had given up my freedom to give Ethan his, and he didn’t want it. He’d rather throw everything away.
As I drifted off to sleep on the couch, my last thoughts were that we were both paying for our bad decisions. The only difference was that now he was working on getting himself out of that hole, and I felt like I was just burying myself deeper. The question that lingered at the edge of my mind as sleep finally overtook me was, would either of us really escape?
Chapter Ten
Black Ink Revenge
Four years had passed since my twins were born. My relationship with my husband had been filled with its ups and downs, like any marriage. On more than one occasion I almost broke my promise to myself. To stay in this house, until I knew our future was secure. However, spending my birthday alone finally prompted me to move into the guest room. I couldn’t take sleeping in that big empty bed anymore. That was almost three months ago, and he hadn’t even mentioned it. It didn’t even phase him.
Today was one of no real importance. It was just like any other morning. Chris was just coming in, smelling of bourbon. His antics had only gotten worse since his mother had passed last April. His two-day business trips had turned into week long disappearances. Late at the office meant he wasn’t coming home at all.
Chris came into the kitchen to sit with the twins. Even though he absolutely hated their names, especially Jimmy’s; he cared for them. He smiled through his hangover and placed two boxes in front of them. They squealed with glee. Their tiny fingers reaching over their blueberry pancakes to open the presents. That was his answer to everything. Showering the children with gifts made up for his absence.
“Thank you, Daddy!” Jimmy told him, hugging her new doll to her tiny chest. Dallas smiled at him and thanked him more quietly for his red sports car. He loved the color red. Christopher snatched Jimmy up from her seat and squeezed her tight.
“You’re very welcome sweetie. Now what are we doing today?” He asked, more at me than her. I ignored him as I continued making pancakes. He would no doubt want some too.
“Music class. Are you coming Daddy?” Jimmy asked. Despite Christopher never being around when it counted, he still tried when he was here. She loved him and he adored her. Dallas was more perceptive. He was hesitant with hugs and kisses when Chris was around. I think he noticed more than we gave them credit for.
“Oh no sweetie. I have some work to do at home. But I’m sure Mommy will take lots of pictures for me,” he assured her and then turned to me.
“What are they playing again?” He demanded, turning towards me. His gray eyes cold, uncaring.
“Dallas is learning the guitar and Jimmy is on the drums,” I told him for the thousandth time. They had been taking lessons for a year. He snorted. He wasn’t happy about me enrolling them in music classes. He wanted Jimmy in ballet and Dallas in sports, but honestly, I didn’t care what he wanted. I wanted a husband who wasn’t cheating on me. A husband who loved me.
“Why don’t you go ahead and order instruments for home. If you plan on going through with this, they might as well do it well,” he told me, but all I heard was “This could be bad for my image, so if they get really good then I can show them off and boost my ratings.” Always the politician.
I ignored his comment and set down his plate in front of him. He put on his charming smile and tried to kiss my cheek. I leaned away and he frowned.
“Mommy is upset. Why is Mommy upset?” He asked, as if this surprised him.
“Mommy was in her studio last night. She was sad,” Jimmy told him. Christopher turned his cold gray eyes to me.
“Talk to me,” he sighed.
“Chris, you’ve been gone for a week,” I said.
“Maribel, let me explain.” I cringed at the use of that name. I hated it. He knew I hated it. He insisted that my other name was childish. Cleo was a dumb name, he decided. I had been using the name since I was ten. When I first met the guys, I told them my name was Cleo. I thought the guys would make fun of my real name. Once they found out, they laughed for a few minutes but decided I looked more like a Cleo than a Maribel so I kept it.
Chris changed that as soon as I returned. He needed a wife that was dedicated to his career. Cleo De La Rosa was my stage name, he insisted. When he first requested I start using my real name, I went along with it. He said it was our way to get a fresh start. A life away from crazy Cleo and Ethan obsessed fans. Considering what I was hiding from him, I didn’t find his request that unreasonable. Now it felt like it was a leash he could pull whenever he chose. Only my bandmates and his brother called me Cleo now.
“We haven’t been happy with each other for a long time now.”
“So what, you think we should divorce? You think you’re better off without me? How are you supposed to pay for the twins’ things? Without me, you wouldn’t be able to support them,” he smirked. I hesitated. He was right. Since I stopped touring, the money wasn’t coming in like it used to. I still got royalty checks from music sales or merchandise. They still sold our shirts at the mall. Other than that, I had no income. I had nowhere to go. I left my career behind to raise the twins and stand next to him at functions. I was a full-time mother and wife now.
I sighed, looking at him with exhausted eyes. “What are we doing Chris?” I asked. He came over to me, eyes pleading.
“We can make this work. I’ll go to counseling again. I’ll stay home more, go to the damn music class. Just don’t leave. Not yet. Give us a chance,” he begged. “It was what my mother wanted. It won’t be good for my campaign.” I looked at him blankly. Screw his stupid campaign. Screw his image.
I turned around and went to my studio. I closed the door, grabbing my guitar. When we stopped touring, I found I had more time to learn new things. Like the guitar. I started to play one of the newer songs I had written. I hoped one day to make another album. We couldn’t really do anything without all of us, and it wasn’t often we could make that happen these days. So instead, I played alone. It was my escape.
Closing my eyes, I got lost in the music. Only when the song was over and my guitar down did I notice the little boy near the door. “Dallas, baby come in,” I told him and he scooted his little feet along the carpet towards me.
“Mommy, can we go to class now? I want my guitar,” he told me. I nodded and took his hand to go find his sister. Chris was with her in the living room reading a book. This was what he always did. For the next few days he would be a model husband. Home at five, playing with the kids. After about night three he would come to my bedroom. I would turn down his advances. He would grow angry, frustrated, and leave.
He looked up from the book. “Queer eye called.” I grabbed my cell phone off the coffe
e table and called Adrian back.
He was absolutely furious when I chose to name the girl twin after my best friend instead of his mother. Adrian James. We had picked it out together one night when Chris was off on a trip to New York.
The phone rang twice before he answered. “Hey you! What are you guys up to today?” Adrian greeted warmly. Oh how I missed him. After years of begging, I finally convinced him to come back to Michigan. He acted like it was such an inconvenience, but I knew he missed me just as much as I missed him. He had been in town for a little under a month.
“The twins have class in an hour. After that we’re free. Why? What’s up?”
“I have a surprise for them. Can you come over at about one? Don’t be late,” he ordered. I laughed. The kids loved their Uncle Adrian.
“Alright, we’ll be there. I’ll see you soon,” I told him and hung up to face Chris’ wrath.
“What does he want now?” He demanded. Out of my three friends, he hated Adrian the most.
“Nothing, he just wants to hang out. Why do you care?” I snapped as I helped the twins with their winter coats. It was November. Snow was already covering the ground, I hated it. I prayed it would melt early this winter. Chris had left the room rather than help me. He didn’t even bother to say goodbye when we left.
Jimmy and Dallas loved music class. The class lasted roughly an hour and a half. The first 15 minutes, they let them explore the main room. Letting all of the children meet each other and try out any instrument that struck their fancy. After that they were then taken to rooms for their specific instruments.
Jimmy was the only girl who played the drums. She was in a class with two boys a year older, but she held her own. Her instructor Dominique loved having her in class.