“Listen, before you say anything, it’s not what you think.”
He spins around in his chair. “You don’t know what I think. But I know exactly what you are thinking.”
“Oh, do you?” I do not like his attitude.
“So, I’ll see you when I see you.”
“What?”
He turns back around and goes back to work.
“Michael?”
“Bye Samirah.”
“Wait, what? That’s all you have to say to me? Won’t you hear me out?”
“I don’t need to. I’ve heard it all before. Bye.”
That son of a bitch is dismissing me. Like I’m nothing. I thought I meant more to him than that. Bastard.
Fine. I’ll show him. I’ll do this on my own.
I storm back to my office.
“Samirah, are you okay?” Nikki looks concerned.
“No, I’m not. I have to go. I’m sorry. I know this is not professional, but I’m having a crisis. Is there any way you can bring me home for a minute or two and then give me a ride to the bus station?”
“Sure. Are youâ”
“No, but I will be. I hope.” My brusque tone shuts Nikki down, and she doesn’t say another word the whole way home. I rush in the house, grab a bag, and throw some clothes into it. I pack my cell phone and charger and dig out the paperwork from the hospital, including the information about my rape kit.
I have a long time to think about things as I wait for the next bus to take me back to New York City. The entire three-hour ride, I think about Michael. I’m sure he thinks I’m taking off because of what he told me. I’m not. I’m doing what I told him I needed to do. I can’t move forward at all until I deal with the past. I have to face it.
It’s almost four when I arrive at Penn Station. Shit. Now where? I didn’t think this through. I’m too fucking impulsive for my own good. Chase and Grace live out on Long Island. Shit, the commuter rail at this time of day is going to be packed. Then I see the billboard for Big Apple Babies and remember that they’re in the city now. They’re staying at the apartment where Chase and I used to go. It takes me almost an hour to get uptown but it’s still better than having to head out to Long Island.
I get to the building and freeze. It’s not like I can just go in. I don’t have my keyâI left that behind. Do I ring the bell? There’s no way she would ring me up. And then I see her walking down the street toward me. Grace is coming back, pushing little Arabella in her million dollar stroller. At least there’s not a camera crew filming her.
Grace heads toward the building and the doorman spots me. I never bothered to learn his name, but he obviously remembers who I am. He looks nervously between Grace and me. I shake my head back and forth, as if to let him know that I’m not going to cause a scene.
“Excuse me, Grace?” I call out, approaching her before she can get through the door. Panic flashes in the doorman’s eyes. Grace turns toward me, her eyes squinting with some recognition.
“Yes?”
“I don’t know if you remember me, but I used to work at Crush. I worked your baby shower.”
“Right, yes, of course. Sam?”
“Yes, Sam. Um, I’d like to talk with you for a moment, if you don’t mind.”
She looks around. “I’ve got to get the baby inside.”
I look into the carriage. “She’s beautiful.” She really is.
Grace beams, motherhood agreeing with her.
“Grace, this is important. I wouldn’t bother you if it weren’t. Please.”
The doorman steps in. “Mrs. Deckler, is there a problem? Do you need this young lady to leave you alone?”
“Grace, please,” I plead. I’m going to ruin her life, but it’s better than letting her be blindsided. This really is the lesser of two evils.
She looks from the doorman to me and back again. “Vito, it’s fine. We’re going to head upstairs. Sam will be joining us.”
Vitoâthat was his nameâgives me a look of reproach. It’s like he knows I’m going to tell her about Chase and me. Well, he’s right on that account.
There’s an awkward silence in the elevator. I try not to think about the time I had sex in this elevator with Grace’s husband. Everything is rushing back, flooding my memory and my senses. This is going to be much more difficult than I’d anticipated, and this is the easy part.
She unlocks the apartment, and it takes great restraint not to waltz in and make myself at home like I used to. God, he’s such a slime ball. He doesn’t deserve all this. After today, I’m going to make sure as hell he gets what he deserves.
I sit on the couch after I’m invited and politely decline her offer for a beverage. She goes about getting the baby settled. Once Arabella’s in her crib, Grace joins me back in the living room.
“So, Sam, how’ve you been? Are you still at Crush?”
“Um, no, I left there.”
“That would explain why we haven’t seen you. It’s my husband’s favorite restaurant. He wants to go there all the time.”
I’ll bet he does.
“No, I moved Upstate.” I almost tell her where I’m living but then I realize they could send someone after me. With this kind of people, with everything they have at stake, it’s a possibility. I have to hope that my first impression of Grace as a truly kind person was correct.
“Oh. So then, what brings you back here today? What did you need to discuss with me?”
I take a deep breath. “Grace there’s no easy way to say this. When I met you at your shower, I was struck by what a wonderful person you are. You seem to honestly be one of the nicest, most decent people I’ve ever met.”
Her cheeks flush under the compliment.
“Which is why I’m here. What I have to say is difficult, and you have to know, and keep in mind, how sorry I am. When I lived down here, I was having an affair with a married man.” Her back immediately stiffens. I try to keep her gaze, but it’s getting tough. “I knew he was married, but I didn’t care. I was in it for me, and that’s all I thought about. I think there was some delusional part of me that thought he’d leave his wife for me. That was never his intention. He is not a very good man.”
I pause and look at Grace. All color has drained from her face.
“I guess I always knew he had a wife, but I never let myself think about her. I convinced myself she was a bitch and he deserved more. I could not have been more wrong.” I’m sort of wishing I had let her get me some water. My throat is dry and swallowing is getting difficult. “Grace, I’m sorry to say that I was seeing Chase.”
She recoils a bit, as if I’d slapped her. “I see.”
“No, that’s not why I’m here.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because of the show.”
“Of course.” She stands up. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”
I knew this was coming. I stand up as well. “Grace, let me say this quickly. I’m not here for money or blackmail. I’m not here to cause a scandal. I’m here to right a wrong. Seeing youâhimâon the show has made me realize I can’t let this go on.”
“Let what go on?” I can only imagine what she’s thinkingâsecret love child, disease, gold digging mistress. I can practically see her mind racing.
“Grace, you need to know what kind of man you’re married to.”
“I know my husband quite well, thank you.”
“Did you know he had a girlfriend?”
Her gaze falls to the floor, her red hair spilling forward like a curtain.
“You knew?”
She nods.
I swallow the golf ball in my throat. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t respect your marriage enough to not get involved. You’ll never know how sorry.”
“Is that it?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“What more then? Tell me and then you need to leave. I have phone calls to make.”
“Grace, I’m here to tell you firs
t. After this I’m going to the police, but I wanted you to know beforehand.”
“The police? Goodness, why are you getting the police involved? It’s not a crime to cheat on your wife. You even said you knew he was married.”
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, trying to muster the strength to say what I need to say. “No, it’s not a crime to cheat on your wife. However, it is a crime to drug your girlfriend so you and your friends can rape her.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR: MICHAEL
She’s really gone. Her stuff isn’t gone, but she is. She left a note.
There it sits, on the kitchen table, where we’d eaten our pancakes. Was that only yesterday?
I don’t read the note she left. I can imagine what it says. “I can’t deal with your reality.”
So there the note sits. It hasn’t moved since yesterday.
I feel like shit. Mentally and physically. I don’t know what’s going on, but I just want to sleep. I’m probably coming down with something.
I don’t care.
I don’t care about anything. I leave work at noon and drive for hours. I like being in the car, driving. I almost feel like the old me. It’s getting harder and harder to remember how I used to feel. When I was whole.
I was a damn fool thinking that even though my body didn’t work, I could still be a whole person. Even if I see myself that way, no one else will. I’ll always be this broken half-man who has too much baggage. Too much reality.
It’s after sunset when I return home. To my dark house. She’s still not there. Who am I kidding? She didn’t come back yesterday, and she’s not coming back today. Or ever. It’s not like she ever represented herself to be something more than she was. She told me she was selfish. She told me she wasn’t a good person. I thought she was selling herself short. I guess I was the fool.
I don’t want to tell Mitchell. He’ll be angry with Samirah again. It’s not her fault, it’s mine. Mine for trusting again. Mine for wanting more than I can have.
Fuck.
“Yo, man!” Mitchell lets himself in.
“Go away.”
“Where’d you take off to today?” He plops himself down on Samirah’s couch. I guess it’s not her couch anymore.
“Make yourself at home, why don’t you?”
“What crawled up your ass and died? Where’s Sam?”
“She’s gone.”
“I see that. Gone where? When’s she coming back?”
“Why? What’s it to you?”
Mitchell puts his hands up. “Easy there. No, seriously, what’s wrong.”
Once I say it, it will be real. Better rip the Band-Aid off quickly. “She’s gone. She left.”
“Is she coming back?”
I shrug. “She’ll have to move her stuff out. I don’t know what her plans are.”
“What happened?”
I focus intently on clicking through the channels, not even really paying attention to what’s on. My heart feels heavy. Like, literally heavy, and taking a deep breath is hurting. This is even worse than when Lainie left me. I think back then, I was still party numb (no pun intended) from the accident. I couldn’t process it correctly. I’m processing this just fine, and feeling it. Everything is raw and exposed.
“Michael, what happened?”
I sigh. He’s not going to let up. “After the wedding, she kissed me. Well, back up. At the wedding, I sort of realized that maybe I had some, I dunno. I didn’t like when she was dancing with Trevor. I wanted it to be me. Then, she kissed me. Then we didn’t talk for a few days. Then, two nights ago, she came to me, said she was trying to get her shit together so we could maybe explore this more. She said if she were to be with anyone, it would be me.”
“So, then what? How’d you fuck it up so quickly?”
“She spent the night with me. Of course, I could barely sleep. I was afraid I was going to piss myself. Or worse. With her there. So, in the morning, I told her about it. I mean, she asked. I didn’t volunteer it. So I gave her some of the gory details, and then we went to work. That was yesterday.”
“Okay? Did she not take the info well? It’s a lot to handle. Honestly, I don’t like to think about that shit. Literally.”
I smile. I know he’s trying to make me laugh. But it’s not enough. “A few hours later, she rushes into my office and tells me she has to take off.”
“That’s it?”
“What more does she need to say? She’s grossed out. She can’t handle what comes with a spinal cord injury. It’s no walk in the park, and she realized she’s not cut out for it.”
“Better now than later though, right?”
“I guess.” It’s a mumble. I’m tired. Not sleeping the last two nights is taking it out of me. “I thought maybe because she never knew me as able-bodied, that this wouldn’t bother her. She told me straight up she wasn’t good with any of it. Like when her mom was sick. She couldn’t handle it. I know she’s trying to change, but I shouldn’t have expected her to do a one-eighty.”
“It sounds like she’s been through a lot. Maybe you need to give her some time to get her shit together.”
“Are you taking her side?”
“I wasn’t aware there were sides. You know I’m always on your side. But you’re right. It is a lot, and maybe she needed some distance to think about it. You need to give her that.”
“I guess. It just feels like Lainie all over again.”
He’s quiet, thinking about it. “I think Lainie was a different story. I mean, had your accident been twelve months later, she would have been your wife. And I think she would have done the same thing. I think Samirah is different. Didn’t you say she’s got a lot of shit she’s dealing with? You need to give her a break.”
“You keep saying that.”
“That’s because you’re not hearing me.”
“I’ve never listened to you before. Why should I start now?”
Even after Mitchell leaves, I don’t feel any better. I know he’s right, not that I’ll ever tell him that. The note is still on the table. I don’t want to see her words, her excuses. Maybe she’ll be back, maybe not. I guess I’ll deal with that later.
*******
She left on Thursday. It’s Sunday, and there’s still no word. She has a phone, but I know she won’t use it. That damn video contaminates the whole thing. I don’t know why she doesn’t get a new phone. Hell, I’d get her a new one. She probably doesn’t have my number anyway. And it’s not like anyone memorizes phone numbers anymore.
But still, I’m desperate to know where she is. Why she left. What she’s doing. Is she drowning herself at the bottom of a bottle? Is she masking her pain by sleeping with every guy who crosses her path? Is she okay?
I text Nikki, but she hasn’t heard from her. She didn’t quit her job either, or mention taking more time off. Maybe I can assume she’ll be back by tomorrow. I don’t want to assume anything at this point.
Even putting aside the abandonment issues I appear to have developedâI’m gonna have a lot to discuss with Michele this weekâI miss her. I miss talking to her and just being around her. She’s made a difference in my life. I didn’t know what I didn’t have until she showed up.
I’m lonely. I sit in my house all the time when I’m not working. My friends were right. I need to get out more. It’s now football season, and I’d bet Trev and Marco are watching the game somewhere. I should join them. My phone’s still in my lap, silent in its mockery of me. I’m so tired right now. I don’t feel like going out. I don’t feel like doing anything but going to sleep. Great. In addition to everything else, I’m fucking depressed.
I don’t want to take any more medication. As it is, I feel like a pharmacy. I’ve got the baclofen pump that is constantly sending medication into my back for muscle spasms. Methanamine and D-mannose to prevent bladder infections three times a day. Nifedipine for my blood pressure. Colace to soften my stool. A probiotic to help keep me regular. I have Valium for when the spasms get
bad. Botox in my bladder every three months. I’m tense and upset. All I want is to not feel like this.
I should eat something. I make myself some scrambled eggs and toast. I think about it, and go to my bathroom. I grab all my pill bottles and bring them back to the kitchen. I line them all up, soldiers who dictate my life. Dictators who keep me alive and keep me prisoner all at the same time. I look at the Valium. I’ve only taken it when my spasms were really bad. Today, I look at that amber bottle. Fuck it, I need something to take the edge off.
I’m taking it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: SAMIRAH
I never ever want to go through what I’ve gone through the last few days again. Telling Grace was hard. So hard. I destroyed her life. I don’t think she was that shocked about the affair. I think she knew Chase was that sort of guy. At least, I hope she knew. But hearing the rest of it was more than enough bad news.
I cannot imagine what is must be like to discover your spouse is an animal. She didn’t want to see the video. I can’t blame her. That would make it too real. But she believed me without it. She didn’t cry. I did. Copious amounts of tears. Tears for her, tears for me, tears for her beautiful baby.
Then came the police station. I’d done some research and tried to prepare myself for how terrible it would be. That I would be the one being interrogated. That I would be the one on trial. I promised myself that I wouldn’t let them scare me away and that I would do what I needed to do.
I was at the police station for over twelve hours and then back again for another six the following day. They called in someone from the district attorney’s office and I talked to her for a while as well. Everyone was quite understanding that I no longer lived in town.
The past few days were emotionally draining, to say the least. It’s hard, since I don’t really remember the incident. The video, however, makes the case. The police requested the rape kit from the hospital in Albany, so they’ll take a look at that as well. I’d showered before leaving my apartment, but I remember them taking lots of pictures of all my bruises and abrasions. The police and DA were irritated that I’d talked to Grace, worried that she would tip off Chase. She’s not going to be helping him out at all.
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