“I don’t know much. The details of your job were mostly confidential,” I say, clearing my throat. Now I wonder what his job was. I can’t imagine him being entrusted with such a valuable position knowing he could become Chris at any time.
He lets out an angry sigh and shakes his head.
“The only thing you told me was that you were a liaison for Public Relations and Research and Development,” I say with a shrug. There’s another round of silence. I reach in the bag Mrs. Scott packed and hand him a juice box. He smiles gratefully and takes it.
“A shot of Tequila would be a little better, but grape juice should work just as well,” I joke. He nods as he opens it and drains the little box. I’ve been trying to restrain myself this entire time, but there’s so much I want to know, and I know he wants to know about me. We’re like two polite strangers with a kid. Anything too personal would be going into the realm of intimacy, or maybe that’s my own paranoia.
“Now is it my turn to ask a question?” I say quietly, playing with my empty sandwich bag.
“Go for it.”
“You don’t remember anything?” I ask, folding my hands together. His head tilts a little to the side.
“Not just about me or our...my life with Cal, but before me...?” I ask, and I’m waiting with bated breath. If he could just remember something about us, about me, our life together. It’s pathetic. I know, but it would make me feel some consolation. If Cal loved me and he’s apart of him, he should feel something. Even if it’s locked away in another part of his mind, he should remember something…His eyes lock into mine, and for a second, he looks at me how Cal used to, with an intensity that overwhelmed me, that used to consume me. This time it spits me back out.
“I’m sorry, Lauren, but I don’t remember anything,” he apologizes and stares down at the table. I try to pretend like the words aren’t a knife through my heart. I can’t do this. I can’t cry and feel sorry for myself every time I’m around him and things don’t go my way. This isn’t about me or him. It’s about Caylen.
“No it’s okay. It’s nothing to be sorry over.” I plaster my practiced smile on my face. I really hope he buys it. So what? Even if he remembered something, it wouldn’t matter anyway. It’d just leave the single thread of hope more time to catch fire, the fanning of a flame I need to stomp out fast.
“It looks like rain,” he mutters, and at first, I think it’s an attempt to fill the increasingly awkward silence that has followed this discussion. When I look up at the previously sunny sky that’s become overshadowed by darkening clouds, I know it’s not.
“It does.” I sigh. At least Mother Nature is doing us a favor, excusing us from our uncomfortable little outing. We grab our items and throw them in the trash. I push the stroller as we make our way to the parking lot, ending what started as a nice trip to the zoo. Thankfully, Caylen was sleep before her mommy managed to suck all the fun out of it.
Chris
When I was six years old, my aunt had come to stay with us for a few days. She sucked as a cook, but always insisted on doing it. She told me one morning that when I got back from school she’d have my favorite cake waiting for me. As a six year-old, kid I was stoked. Cake was one of my favorite things. Who am I kidding? It still is. I told all my friends about it, thought about it all day at school, and when I got home, I ran straight to the kitchen. There it was on the counter. A two-tier cake with blue icing. My favorite color. She was so excited for me to try it. She cut me a huge piece, but before I could take a bite, my mom sent her to get something out of the kitchen. The moment I took a bite, I spit it out. I can only imagine the face that I must have made. I told my mom how bad it tasted, and that I didn’t want anymore.
My mother sat next to me and told to me that when my aunt asked how I liked it, I had to tell her it was really good. I was confused. It wasn’t good. It was awful, and I told my mom. She then explained to me that my aunt worked really hard to make the cake for me, and it’d make her really sad if I told her I didn’t like it. As a six year-old, I reminded her that I would be lying and that she had told me lying was wrong. She sat me on her lap and said sometimes lying was okay if it was for a good reason. She told me it was just a little white lie and would make my aunt happy. When my aunt came back into the kitchen and asked me how the cake was, I told her it was good, and I’d finished all of it. She was happy. I felt good about making her happy even if I didn’t really like the cake. I had told my first white lie. Sometimes I wonder, if I had told my aunt the truth all those years ago, that she couldn’t cook, would she have actually learned how to do it, and not suck completely?
If a white lie makes people feel good even if it’s not really helpful, what I just told Laruen has to be black lie. I didn’t do it to hurt her, but it is ultimately for her own good. I told Lauren what she needed to hear. At 28, I’ve told my first black lie. A lie that did the exact opposite of making her feel good. When Lauren asked me if I remembered anything, it felt like time froze. It wouldn’t be good for her—for us—if I told her that I had started to remember things about my life as Cal. I don’t even know if they are really memories.
Do I remember anything? I wish she would have asked me this the last time I saw her, then I wouldn’t have had to lie, but of course she asks me today.
Technically, I don’t know if I’m remembering anything. It could just be an overactive imagination. Extremely vivid dreams that don’t feel like any other dream I’ve ever had. The only way to actually confirm they’re not dreams is to ask her, and I will not do that.
Not now at least. I don’t want to make this whole situation any more confusing than it already is. That would just give her false hope. I thought I may have seen that hope in her eyes earlier, and that would be dangerous. Her hope is for them, which is hope for Cal, and I can’t give her that. Like a person who holds on to someone on a ventilator long after the doctors have said they’re gone.
Cal.
Cal is a selfish prick. Over the past six years, I never remembered anything. Not one single thing and now, now I start to.
It’s him. I know it is. He’s sharing, and if he’s decided to do it, it’s not for my benefit. It’s for his. He wants me to tell Lauren I’m remembering. He wants her to not give up on them, and I won’t hold her hostage to this guy, a memory, a hope for a future that doesn’t exist.
I want to be her friend. I want a relationship that’s uncomplicated and amicable for our daughter. I think back to my conversation with Dexter this morning.
“Just go back to his life, Chris. Cal won’t like it if you marry Jenna, Chris. Just leave all you worked for behind and do what makes Cal happy, Chris.”
I never thought Dexter would be anyone’s spokesperson. I know there has to be something in this for him, and that’s what scares me. Dexter doesn’t bother with anything unless it’s in his own best interest. And usually, what’s in a Crestfield’s best interest is in direct opposition with mine.
What was with all the riddles, it being Dexter’s suggestion and not Cal’s to try out his life? What does that even mean? Cal wouldn’t like it if I wanted Lauren, if I moved back to Chicago? If that’s the case he’s even more self-absorbed and selfish than I thought. I’ve already stepped into the role he left empty, the one good thing he ever did.
I haven’t had as much fun as I have today in a long time. I hadn’t been to the zoo in years with everything going on, and until lunch, everything was going great. For a little while, the heaviness of the situation was gone. We were normal, like everyone else. Two parents with their little girl, no extra drama or baggage. Before this conversation with Lauren, we had a clean slate. Nothing but honesty and cooperation between us.
Now there’s a lie, a lie that changed things between us, one that made us opponents instead of being on the same team. I know it’s just paranoia. I’m just not used to lying to people. How the hell do people do it so easily? I’ve only said one sentence, and I feel so guilty. The worst part is she doesn’t think
I’m lying. I’d feel better if there was a hint of skepticism, or distrust, but she believes me. She took everything I said as the truth, and that’s eating me up.
She’s different now. Something in her expression changed right after I told her. Something left her. It could be the very thing I wanted to see gone. Her hope, and the energy that poured out of me the day I talked to her in her hotel room is trickling back in. We haven’t said a word to each other since we left the picnic table. She won’t even look at me now. Before, I’d catch her stealing a glance at me every now and then, but not anymore. I don’t know why it almost hurts that she won’t.
You killed her hope, dumbass! She’s in mourning, you fucking idiot!
Those words slam into my brain. A thought so clear it’s like it’s spoken to me.
“Are you okay, Chris?” Lauren asks. I notice I’ve stopped in my tracks. She’s more than a few steps ahead of me, turned around, her eyes narrowed in on mine.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say aloud and catch up with her. Second lie. I’m far from fine. I’m losing it because even though my thoughts should be mine, I’m starting to think the one I just had wasn’t. My phone starts to go off. It’s the text ring tone Jenna set for herself and my heart does double time. I see it’s only a one word message.
Hey.
But it’s enough to make the feeling I just had dissipate. I quickly type out.
I miss you, and stuff my phone back into my pocket. Lauren takes Caylen out of her stroller. The message goes off again, and I pull out my phone.
It’s just a smiley face, but it makes me grin. I look up and see Lauren has finished putting Caylen in her seat. She walks around the car, and her big hazel eyes look directly into mine. I can see the tears in her eyes, and I start to ask her what’s wrong but something stops me. I load the stroller into the trunk. When I close the trunk, I see that Lauren has gotten into the back seat. I let out a deep breath. I don’t know what just happened, but whatever it was, it’s affected her worse than the lie I told her. I get into the driver’s seat, and she hands me the car keys, her eyes stay on her lap.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, looking at her in the rearview mirror.
She nods. “Caylen might wake up. I’ll sit back her in case she does,” she says quietly her eyes don’t look up once.
“Okay,” I say and start the car.
Not okay! You’re a fucking idiot.
This time, I know it’s not just a thought. My text alert goes off again. I glance back at Lauren whose eyes are closed, her head resting against the window. It’s Jenna’s ringtone. Is that what’s bothering her? It’s a snippet of Jenna’s favorite song…a love song. I put my phone on vibrate and let out a deep breath. This is going to be a long day.
Chapter 2
Lauren
I knew it was her. Before I even heard the lovey dovey ringtone I could tell by the look on his face. How whatever was bothering him melted off the moment he heard from her. It wouldn’t have been that bad if he didn’t look so happy. If he didn’t have that smile I used to see when Cal looked at me. I haven’t seen that smile in years, and he gives it to her over a stupid text message. She can’t even see it. I’m not mad. Really, I’m not. I’m not even irritated.
How could he so blatantly flaunt that he loves her in front of me? I told him I’d try to deal with this but stuff like that happening is not a part of the agreement. Ugh! I know I’m being completely ridiculous but I can’t help it. I don’t even want to be near him right now. That’s how I ended up in the back seat of my own car. I didn’t feel like such an idiot until Chris looked at me like I was a wierdo. But I don’t care, it’s better this way. If he was Cal, I’d have hit him already.
I thought I’d out grown this. I feel like the past two years haven’t happened and my emotions have taken control from my common sense again. This is too much. This is all going to be too much. I see it now, and I’m supposed to spend the entire day with him and his family. What if she shows up? I didn’t even think to ask him about her. What if she comes to dinner? I won’t be able to do it. I won’t be able to handle him brushing up against her, her running her hands through his hair. It makes me want to throw up just thinking about it. What the hell was I thinking?
I hear Caylen yawn and move around in her car seat, and I’m reminded why I’m here and why I have to do this. Why I can’t throw temper tantrums and fold my arms and pout. I take her little hand in mine and sigh. I catch Chris watching me through the rearview mirror. He quickly looks away when he sees he’s been caught. Maybe he wasn’t looking at me. He does need to look at the mirror to drive, but since there are virtually no cars on this road, I guess it’s safe to assume he was looking at me.
He doesn’t know me. I’ve come to that realization. I’m just some woman who he happens to have a kid by. Nothing else. He doesn’t remember a single thing about me. He doesn’t feel anything towards me. While we were at the zoo, for a while, I stopped thinking about the situation we’re in. It was just us, being. It was nice. He’s nice, he’s funny, and fun to be around. I could imagine things being easy with him. Jenna got easy. I got complicated, arrogant, selfish and secretive. It’s not hard to be with someone that’s easy. They probably never fight or argue. Chris doesn’t seem like the type. It’s not hard to love someone like that. He didn’t disappear on her for days at a time; he didn’t use sex to screw with her head. She didn’t have to deal with mood swings, condescending attitudes, or go through an entire pregnancy alone
But she still gets the smile.
She gets the easy part. Things will never ever be easy with me and Chris our—well, my and Cal’s—history will never let us have what they have.
I sigh and try to focus on everything—anything but the situation at hand. I start to pay attention to how he drives, using his turn signal when switching lanes, even when no one is behind us, and staying within the speed limit. When we get to the point of him having Caylen without me, at least I won’t have to worry about his driving. My stomach tightens up. Eventually it will be Chris and Caylen. No, not Chris and Caylen. That’s wrong. It will be Chris, Jenna, and Caylen.
No Cal.
No me.
We finally pull in front of the Scott’s, and he turns the car off.
“I think I might skip dinner?” The words escape my mouth before my brain can filter them. I look over at Chris and expect him to look relieved, but he doesn’t. I think he looks disappointed, but that can’t be. Why want a woman who’s a problem around? He’s seen Caylen they’ve had a nice time. You’d think he’d be glad that I want to go.
“I’m just really tired,” I explain. Well not tired. More like emotionally exhausted. It’s a lot harder than I thought it’d be, pretending to be indifferent and not in love with a person sitting a few inches from you and even harder when you see firsthand they love someone else. He pauses a minute then turns back towards me, his arm resting on the other side of the car’s headrest.
“You’ll have to be the one to tell my mom you’re cutting the visit short with the granddaughter she’s probably been anxiously awaiting since we left,” he says with a tilt of his head and a smile that makes me not want to be in the back seat anymore. Well it does, but under entirely different circumstances. I swallow the lump in my throat and shake away the thoughts starting to surface in my mind.
“I’m sure she’ll understand, right?” I haven’t known this woman long but I think I already know the answer to that. He displays a mischievous grin and takes out his phone and hands it back to me.
“Hey honey,” her voice says through the phone.
“Hi Mrs. Scott. It’s Lauren,” I glance over at Chris who’s grinning.
“Oh, Lauren, is everything okay?” she asks, her tone going from worried to cheerful.
“Yes, Chris is right here. We’re outside actually,” I confirm.
“Oh great! Will finished the dollhouse, and I’ve started dinner. Do you like Lasagna? If not, I can throw on something else,” she sa
ys excitedly.
“I was actually going to. I—I…” And I chicken out.
“Lasagna’s my favorite.” I sigh and swat Chris’ arm as he laughs at me. Chris gestures for me to give him the phone. He takes it, and just like that, my tension is gone.
“Mom, could you come and get Caylen?” he asks, and I guess she obliges because he comes out quickly. I notice her expression when she sees me sitting in the back seat, but she recovers quickly and greets us.
“You tired the little angel out?” She laughs.
“We had a ton of fun,” Chris says as he gets out of the car. I do the same.
“This is a beautiful car.”
“Thanks,” I say, wrapping my arms around myself as I walk behind them.
“We’re going to head this way,” Chris says, gesturing toward the back of the house. I look back at Mrs. Scott holding Caylen. She gives me an assuring nod. I let out a deep breath and change directions. I see he’s headed to the yard where I saw the horses outside of their window earlier. I wonder if his mom said something to him. When we reach the gate surrounding it, he stops and leans on it. I do the same. The horses are beautiful. One’s a toffee color with a white stripe down its back and the other a beautiful chocolate.
“That’s Butterfinger and Reese’s pieces,” he says, gesturing to each. I look at him to see if he’s joking, and he laughs.
“Seriously?” I ask.
“My parents let me name them, and when I was a kid, I was obsessed with candy.” He takes something out of his pocket. He extends his hand to me and reveals two bite sized bags of M&M’s. I laugh.
“When you were a kid, huh?” I say after popping a few in my mouth. He grins at me before pouring the whole bag in his own.
“I used to ride,” I say, leaning more of my weight on the gate. He turns around and leans his back on the gate so he’s facing me.
Almost Broken: If I Break #2 Page 2