by Carian Cole
"I wish I could say more, but you know I’m under obligation to keep his journal and our chats confidential. I can only help you if he agrees to let me help you as a couple."
"Well, isn't that great! And I'm supposed to just walk out of here with a broken heart? And a bunch of money I don't want? And that's it? We had a life together. This wasn't a game to me. This wasn't supposed to happen!"
They both look at me sympathetically, and I know I’m making a fool of myself. I straighten my blouse and hold my head up. "Is there anything else? I'd like to go now. I have a lot to do now that I wasn't expecting."
"Yes. You’ll receive a check for fifty thousand in the mail for your part in the experiment, and you’ll be receiving papers from his lawyer in a day or two. You’re welcome to call me if you have any questions."
I stand. "Thank you. I'm sorry for shouting, and I'm sorry we were a failure for your experiment."
Standing, she comes around her desk to pull me into an embrace. "I'm so sorry. I truly am. I really hope this isn't the end for you two."
I turn on my heel and leave, bursting into tears the moment I'm out in the parking lot. As soon as I get into my car, I call his cell phone. It rings four times and then goes to his voice mail. I try to calm my breathing and sobbing while I wait for his greeting message to end.
"Talon…I have no idea what just happened, but I'm very confused. I don't know if you're sicker than you've let me know or if you're just depressed… But whatever it is, we can work through it. I love you and I don't want to lose you. No matter what's going on, we can make it better. Please just call me or come home. It doesn't have to be like this. Please talk to me. I love you."
I start the car and head home, so lost in my thoughts that I drive right through a red light, avoiding a collision with another car by mere inches. Trembling and crying, I drive twenty miles per hour the rest of the way back to the house.
I'm shocked to see that his car is gone when I pull into the garage, which must mean he had Max bring him here to get it while I was getting my heart broken by Dr. Hollister.
I call his cell phone again as I walk into the house, and once again, it goes to his voice mail. "Talon, seriously, what the hell is going on? Why are you doing this to me?" I swallow hard. "You know how much this hurts me, having someone just abandon me, just like my family did. You are killing me. Please talk to me, tell me what I did wrong. Help me fix this. I don't want to lose you or our home. I'm worried about you."
I end the call and prowl through the house, trying to find a note or a sign, anything. I find nothing. The only thing different is that his pillow and his bottles of medication are gone from the bedroom.
I quickly change into something more comfortable and go back downstairs in a daze.
This isn't happening.
I sit on the couch and run my hand over the soft leather fabric that just last night he was sitting on with his arms around me. It was his idea to watch a movie. He initiated the sex—and I still have the red marks on my neck from his rough sucking and biting as proof. Why did he do that? Thinking back, he was different last night. Not angry in his touch, but almost desperate.
You'll always be mine.
He whispered that right before he took me. What can that mean? What made him leave with no explanation? Could he still be punishing me for considering talking to Danny weeks ago? That would be so immature. Why would he throw away everything we have over something so ridiculous? It makes no sense.
I stare at my phone, willing it to ring or get a text message.
I wonder if I should call Lukas and see if he knows anything or if he could talk to Talon for me, make sure he's okay. He's always been so nice to me. So have Storm and Evie. And Asher. That will be so embarrassing, though, calling one of them and telling them he left me and refuses to talk to me. I haven't even done anything, but I feel, with the way he left, I must have. I just don't know what it is.
I send him a text.
Me: Hello? Will you please talk to me?
No response, but shows as read.
Me: Talon, please. What is going on? Why are you doing this?
No reply. But read.
Me: You fucking coward. How could you do that to me? Without even a good-bye? Did I mean nothing to you this entire time? Do you have any idea how that felt to have them tell me you wanted a divorce and you just left? I will never forgive you for this.
Read. No reply.
Me: I know you're getting these. Say something. Please.
Talon: All I can say is I'm sorry. Please stop texting me and calling me. I'm sorry.
That's it? He's sorry?
I shake my head, tears falling onto my lap as I furiously type another message.
Me: Why did you fuck me last night? And let me think everything was okay? What kind of sick game was this for you?
Talon: It's not a game. Please stop.
Me: You bastard. You turned out to be like everyone else. You've completely crushed me in every way possible. I hate you! I wish I never fucking met you!
Talon: Asia, stop
Me: What the fuck is wrong with you? Why did you tell me you loved me? Why did you let me get your stupid name tattooed on me? And mine on you? Why won't you at least be a man and talk to me?
Talon: I just can't. I'm fucked up and I'm sorry.
Me: Did something happen? Something you're not telling me?
Talon: No. Just stop. Let it go. Find a nice place to live. Find a nice guy. I'm sorry you're hurt.
Me: WTF!? Did you meet someone else?
Talon: No. Now stop, my head hurts. I can’t stare at this phone screen. It hurts my eyes.
Me: Then come home and get in your own bed and let me rub your head for you. I think the pills have made you crazy. We'll go to the doctor together and figure this out. Just come home and we can forget this happened. I promise I won't be mad.
Talon: You just told me you hated me
Me: Only because I'm upset! I'm out of my mind right now. I love you, I want you to come home. Where are you? I'll come get you. We don't have to talk. I'll bring you home and you can lie down. I'll rub your head. I'll get the lip balm. I'll make you cupcakes. Whatever you want. We'll go see the doctor. It will be okay.
Talon: Asia, don't act like this. Stop fucking with my head. It's over.
Me: Fucking with your head? What does that mean?
Talon: It means nothing. Please stop. I'm going to turn my phone off. If you keep doing this, I'll change my number so we can both stop this.
Me: I have no idea who you are right now.
Talon: That makes two of us. I'm turning this off.
I'm so upset I'm shaking again, my teeth actually chattering against each other. I don't understand any of this. It's like he fell asleep as one person and woke up as someone else. I wonder if the disease causes brain damage or multiple-personality disorder. Something is very wrong.
I SLEEP ON THE COUCH, sobbing uncontrollably until I exhaust myself, every day for seven days. I only get up to take care of Pixie, take small sips of juice, and eat crackers. I ignore all the calls and texts I receive from Kat and Kimberly. Every time my phone makes a sound, I jump, hoping it’s Talon—but it never is.
On the eighth day, the front door beeps and flies open and I bolt up from the couch, hoping—wishing—it's him.
"Kat… What are you doing here?"
She stands over me, shaking her head back and forth, hands on her thin hips. "You refuse to answer my calls. Obviously, I know what happened and I tried to give you space, but I can't let you do this. As your appointed guardian angel, I’m obligated to make sure you don't fall into a deeper depression or wither away to nothing." She grabs my arm and pulls me up. "Look at you. Don't do this, Asia."
I sigh, devoid of any more tears. I've reached the point where I simply can’t cry anymore. The pain has gone full circle from absolutely horrible to totally numbing.
"He won't talk to me. At all. I don't know what I did wrong, Kat."
"Asia, I think the dude is fucked up right now. And you're not too far behind him. I want you to go upstairs right now and take a shower while I go find you something to eat. I’m not going to let you do this to yourself. Been there, done that, remember?"
"I don't want anything."
"That does not matter to me. I have a list here of five town houses that are beautiful not far from here. We're going to look at them tomorrow. You need to get out of this house."
I stare at her blankly. I don't want to eat or shower or leave our home. Or breathe or live.
All I want is him.
41
ASIA
THIS IS JUST A PAUSE.
I'll be okay.
Not today.
Maybe not tomorrow.
But I will be.
Someday.
It won't always be this bad. This pain isn't my forever.
This is just a pause.
There's more waiting for me, somewhere, down the road of my life.
42
TALON
LUKAS'S NUMBER is flashing across my screen. I turned the ringer off on my phone because the sound annoys me. Now, it just flashes and vibrates, which is also annoying.
I pick it up, swipe the screen, and hold it against the ear I can still hear out of.
"Yeah?"
"I got a text from Asia."
My heart hurts just hearing her name. "And?"
"She moved out." I close my eyes for a moment and let it sink in. My wife is gone. Sometimes, my mind is so confused that I think she left me. It’s like I mentally blocked the fact that somehow the crazy switch flipped inside me and I left her. Every time I listen to her voice mails and text messages, my heart seizes. I’ve spent hours at the punching bag, beating out my aggressions, pretending I’m punching myself. What the fuck did I do? Why didn’t that idiot Dr. Hollister smack some sense into me? Couldn’t she see that I was batshit insane? Why didn’t I just sit Asia down and force her to talk?
"Good. Living in Gram's guesthouse is making me fat. She's feeding me way too much." I can't tell Gram, but her cupcakes don't compare to Asia's. Neither does any soap I use. Or any lotion. Or any smoothie. And I can't even look at another woman. Or cats. I hate cats now.
"Do you need a ride home, or are you able to drive? How's the vertigo been?"
"I think I can do it. Did she say where she went?" I ask casually. I can’t stand not knowing where she is. Where she’s sleeping. Where Pixie is. I wish I could close my eyes, open them, and have them here with me again.
"She said she found a town house."
"Did she say where?"
"Tal? If you care, why don't you call her and let her tell you?"
I chew my lip. "No. She's better off this way."
"You know my feelings on this. And she doesn't seem better off. She asked me if you were okay."
"What did you tell her?"
"I told her you're a fucked-up, stubborn mess."
"If you did, I'll kick your ass."
"I told her you were fine. Happy now?"
"No, but I don't want her dwelling on me."
"Dude, I think dwelling on someone and being in love with someone are two different things."
I go into the bedroom and grab my bag so I can start packing my stuff to go back home today. "I don't want to talk about it, Lukas. Thanks for letting me know. I'll see you in a few days for my appointment."
IT TAKES me triple the amount of time to drive from the White Mountains back to my town. The drive up the day I left Asia was a horror show, but the drive back down the winding roads is even worse. The pressure in my ear is incredible, and the vertigo has broken through the meds I took. Three times I have to pull over on the side of the road to get sick.
I literally want to kiss the ground when I finally pull into my own driveway and park in front of the garage. But as I walk down the walkway to the front door, I'm not sure why I wanted to come back here.
The inside of the house is dark, with only the foyer light on, and it's eerily quiet. Even with being half deaf and having that constant whoosh in my ear, the silence follows me like a ghost.
I throw my bag on the floor and slowly walk through the house, memories of us flashing through my mind as I stare into each room. Every corner, every piece of furniture, every damn thing reminds me of her. I can hear the little teasing fights we had echo through my mind. I can still see her sitting at the breakfast nook with her goofy purple glasses on, looking adorably fuckable with Pixie perched on the table next to her.
Fuck. I miss them. I ruined our family. I let the disease win.
I walk into her craft room, and it's completely empty. This was her favorite room, and we spent so much time in here, designing clothes and fucking on the table. And on the floor. And against the shelves. Even next to that creepy fit mannequin I hated.
I open the refrigerator and feel like I've been punched when I see she's stocked it with all my favorite foods, even the things she used to bake for me, and labeled all the Tupperware containers with names and dates in her tiny, perfect writing. And of course, there are cupcakes.
Shit, jelly bean. Why did you do this?
I go upstairs so I can complete the emotional assault of not having her here all in one fell swoop.
Our wedding picture is gone from where it hung on the wall in our bedroom. It was actually my favorite picture—from when I tickled her to make her laugh and kissed her before she could turn away. Honestly, I don't deserve to have it, and I don't need it. That image is burned in the photo album of my mind forever.
Everything is clean and in its place. All my laundry is put away, her side of our shared walk-in closet empty. She vacuumed before she left, all traces of Pixie fur gone.
Next, I wander into the bathroom and there's a small box of all my favorite soaps and lotions she used to make for me. It all smells like her, which is why I loved it. I don't know if she left this stuff here to haunt me, or if she left them here to give me the things she knows I love just to make me happy. I know her, though, and I'm pretty sure she did this in an attempt to welcome me home with the things she knew would make me the happiest. Because she loves me.
Or, she used to. She must hate me now, for the things I did and said.
I didn't think she would put up such a fight the day I left. I thought she would be relieved to get rid of me. I thought the first few messages and texts were just out of shock and anger over the abrupt ending of our relationship. But four weeks and over two hundred messages later, it's become pretty clear to me that she didn't jump onto Danny like I assumed she would. My brain was so clouded with anger that day, I honestly believed she wanted him. Now, I don’t know what happened. I fucked up bad, and it hurts like hell.
I sit on the bed, suddenly feeling dizzy and tired, and that's when I see the T-shirt I left for her to sleep in when I was on tour folded up neatly, with her wedding band on top of it.
Fucking ouch.
I pick it up and twirl the tiny band between my fingers, then unclasp the necklace around my neck and slip the ring onto the chain, watching as it slides down, stopping when it hits my own wedding band, her ring fitting perfectly inside mine. I reach behind my neck and reclasp the chain. At least our rings are together.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and debate for a few moments before bringing up her number and typing a message.
Me: Thank you for leaving me my favorite food and soap.
Asia: So this is your new cell number? Don't worry, I won't bother you. You made your point.
I changed my number when I couldn't stand to see the texts from her anymore, or hear her voice mails that alternated between crying and begging, to telling me to go fuck myself up the ass. I regretted it immediately afterward because I missed getting new messages from her, knowing she was still thinking about me, even if it was in a bad way.
"HEY! HE'S BACK!" Everyone yells when I step onto the tour bus. I take my usual seat and pop a few of the new pills the doctor gave me, and pull
out my e-reader to read a book.
A few hours into the trip, I feel tired and cranky, my ear still muffled and ringing. I wish I had stayed home.
"You doing okay?" Asher's slid into the seat next to me. "You're a little bit green."
"It's my normal color now."
He nods and grins. "I see. I wanted to have a little chat."
"Okay, chat then."
"I want you to finally tell me what happened."
"What happened to what?"
He tilts his head at me. "Your wife."
Sighing, I kick my feet up on top of my suitcase in front of me. "I still don't want to talk about her, Ash. Really."
"I didn't ask if you wanted to."
"It's hard to explain." How can I explain what I don’t even understand myself?
"I think I have the capacity to understand quite a bit. So try me."
"Well, for one thing, this shit with my ear had me fucked up. I was moody with her all the time, and to be honest, I treated her like shit. I was tired all the time. Having sex was hit or miss—sometimes great, sometimes I'd get dizzy and have to run to the bathroom to barf or cling to the side of the bed. It was embarrassing.”
He nods, listening intently. "Okay, I can understand that's hard for you. What else?"
"And then I read her journal, the day before we were supposed to make our decision."
"Tal…not a good move, little bro."
"I know, trust me. She wrote that she never would’ve married me, and I broke her heart like a million times, and how much I've changed since the MD started. Then she mentioned a guy—no name, just an initial—and being confused about him. I'm pretty sure it was her ex who was trying to get her back. And that same day, I saw her with another guy. She has no idea, but it set me off. I flew into a rage over the whole thing. I couldn’t get my head out of that bad place. I don't think it would have worked, man. I'm not what she wanted, that's all."