Through the Wooden Door

by K Carr

  “What group?” I interrupted tersely. People were starting to stare at us as they walked by.

  Swallowing hard, he gave me a wary look. “Can we talk about it later?”

  I nodded slowly, watching Riley cry into his chest. I didn’t know how I felt. Angry? Distraught? Confused? All I knew was he had chosen to comfort this friend of his as opposed to telling her to get stuffed. She had talked about my son. My son. She had spoken from a place of confidence it seemed, a place of familiarity I simply couldn’t ignore. She mentioned Megan…whatever relationship she shared with my husband, I thought it was inappropriate.

  But Connor obviously didn’t have a problem with it.

  Falsely assuming my slow nod was one of acquiescence, Connor sighed in relief and calmly began to question Riley on whether she had driven into the city. I held my shoulder bag against my side and cleared my throat. Connor looked over at the sound.

  “I hope your friend gets the help she needs,” I drawled. Scoffing, I let my gaze slide between them. “It appears you’re more than capable of helping her.”

  “Jen,” his tone was a serious one. He must’ve read between the lines. “It’s not like that.”

  “Don’t call me.” I replied, cold and unyielding. “Today was a mistake. This,” I aggressively wagged a finger between him and myself. “Was a mistake.” Then I quickly walked away, leaving him behind. He called out my name, loud and frustrated, but I refused to stop. By the time I got to my car I was crying and furious with myself for doing so. “Fucking asshole.”

  I didn’t drive off immediately once I was sat behind the wheel. I took a few minutes to simply breathe. Inhale, hold, exhale. Then repeat. Breathing was instinctive. An involuntary process, automatic and continuous, controlled by the medulla and assisted by the pons. Was I remembering it correctly?

  “Fuck.” I hissed softly. Inhale, hold, exhale. Repeat.

  Why had I slept with him? Why was I even here? We couldn’t go back to who we were. Why did I think we could make this – our pathetic marriage – work once more? Why did I still fucking love him? That was the main issue. Why on earth did I still love the man who was responsible for my greatest pain?

  Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Repeat.

  I started the engine, checked my mirrors and pulled out of the parking space. The urge to call Lala was immense, but I didn’t want to intrude on this very special time she and Derek were experiencing. Their baby was only a couple of weeks old now. Little Dara who was perfect in every way and made my heart ache when I first saw her at the hospital a day after her birth. Lala hadn’t said a word when I gently refused Derek’s giddy offer to hold his new born daughter. I had busied myself with finding a spot to place the balloons and gifts I had bought. My best friend understood without me needing to explain. I didn’t need to say how much my arms itched to hold the weight of a baby against my chest, to touch the delicate skin of Dara’s cheek. Lala had laid on her hospital bed, exhausted yet more beautiful than I had ever seen her, and sternly told me off for not reminding her about the high possibility of pooping oneself during labour. She had made me laugh, and I didn’t want to dim her shiny bright life with my gloom.

  “Screw him,” I hissed out loud. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. My tears were beginning to slow. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Keeping my gaze on the jeep in front of me, I checked my mirrors and changed lanes. “I don’t need him.” The words were hollow, but if I kept repeating them to myself it would eventually become the truth. Just like learning a new skill, repetition was key. I didn’t need him.

  But you do. The pathetic voice in my head whispered.

  “I don’t need him,” I repeated again out loud, knowing it was a lie. I needed him. I missed him. I loved him. And those facts made me angrier, they made me want to hate him even more.

  * * *

  “I’m sorry,” Riley said for the tenth time as Connor helped her out his car and slammed the door shut.

  It’s fine,” he muttered, trying his hardest to keep his tone supportive. He was worried about Riley, but he was more worried about the look on his wife’s face when she had stormed off earlier. “Is that Vincent’s car?”

  Riley looked up the driveway and groaned out loud. “Shit. Yes, he’s home.”

  “Ok,” Connor said with grim determination as he began guiding Riley up her driveway. Her steps were wobbly and he remained unsure if it was due to her intoxication or her nerves. “You’ll explain what happened-”

  “I don’t know what happened,” she cried, clinging to him. “I just want to forget everything.” Riley tilted her head up to look at him but the level of her intoxication meant her control was sorely lacking and her head lolled back awkwardly, which in turn made her twist drunkenly in his hold. “You know? Forget it all. Fuck this life. Fuck my life.”

  Connor absent-mindedly noted the geometrical pattern created by the driveway’s paving stones. He was silently thinking she had possibly fucked his life too. Jen had looked furious – no, the look she gave him right before she stormed off had slipped from fury to icy resolve. He had become familiar with that look ever since their marriage broke down. That was the look of: you cease to exist to me. Yeah, Riley’s unfortunate behaviour today had definitely caused him some problems. He would get her inside her house, leave her in what he hoped were the capable arms of her husband, and race over to his mother-in-law’s house to explain everything to Jen.

  “Alright,” Connor tried to reassure her. “We’ll get you inside and-” his words came to an abrupt end when the front door was flung open and the man he assumed was Vincent stood there staring at them.

  “Riley?” he called in shock as Connor continued walking up the driveway with a suddenly quiet Riley. She had been talking non-stop on the drive over here. Could it be classed as talking? More like vacillating wildly between rage and sadness while begging him to drop her off at the nearest bar.

  Vincent was now sprinting down the drive towards them. “Who the hell are you?” he sort of yelled at Connor as he tried to wrest Riley from Connor’s hold. “What the hell are you doing to my wife?”

  Vincent wasn’t as tall as Connor, a bit rounder around the edges, most likely not as fit as Connor was – although he wasn’t as fit as he used to be – none of that mattered as Connor immediately allowed Vincent to grab his wife and push her behind him in a show of protection.

  Connor held his hands up, trying to convey he meant no harm, and attempted to explain before he got punched. He felt as if a punch was coming from somewhere…Vincent left hand was already balled up. Yeah. Connor could literally feel the tension pouring off Riley’s husband.

  “I’m a friend of Riley’s,” he started to say. Vincent’s face morphed into something between confusion and anger. Shit. Connor took a step back as Vincent made a sound which was definitely a precursor to him launching a fist at Connor’s jaw. A punch to the face was the last thing Connor wanted. His bruises from the fight he’d been in, which he still couldn’t remember, were only just gone. “Connor. I’m Connor Oakes from her group therapy.” He saw Vincent lowering his left fist. He hadn’t even seen when Vincent had lifted it! “My wife and I bumped into Riley a little while ago,” He thought it was best to get the explanation out now and as quickly as possible. It was also a good idea mentioning his wife to circumvent any false assumptions Vincent might be jumping to. “And she didn’t look well,” Connor gestured to a visibly drunk Riley. “I got her to tell me your address and I brought her home. That’s it. That’s what happened. I’m Connor from group therapy, man.”

  “Vince,” Riley called out from behind him as she slumped against his back. “I’m sorry, Vince. I’m pathetic. I’m so fucking stupid. I’m sorry.” She started to cry again, soft gulps of pain which made a lump appear in Connor’s throat as she continued, “I understand why you hate me. I don’t blame you. I’m such a waste. Such a fucking waste.”

  Vincent turned around, voice gruff with emotion as he slipped an arm around Riley’s waist and propped her against his
side. “Stop saying those things. Come on, let’s get you inside.”

  Connor looked over his shoulder to his parked car on the road. “Ok then, I should go-”

  “No, wait,” Riley stopped mid-step which meant Vincent had to stop also. “Don’t go yet.” She grabbed on to her husband’s arm. “I have to apologize. Tell Connor I’m sorry.”

  Vincent, obviously torn between sorting his wife out and being polite, gestured towards the house. “Come in, just, uh, I have to get her inside, look just come in.”

  “No, really,” Connor would normally want to ensure his friend was ok, but she was with her husband, and he had to go straighten things out with his own wife. Riley was in capable hands. “I should leave you to it.”

  “Please, Connor.” Riley raised her head from where it had fallen on Vincent’s shoulder.

  The tears staining her face tweaked his conscience. Maybe five minutes, to make sure she was ok. She didn’t always paint Vincent in the best light. What if this was her way of asking him not to leave her alone with her husband? Why would that thought even cross his mind?

  Connor rubbed his temples. “Ok, five minutes then I really need to go.” Reluctantly, he followed Riley and Vincent into their house. The outside was nice, not as nice as his home, but perhaps he was biased.

  “Connor prefers tea, Vince,” Riley murmured as her husband guided her through the front door. “Do we have tea? I haven’t bought tea in a while. We must have some tea.”

  “Coffee is fine,” Connor said, hoping he didn’t sound as impatient as he felt. He shut the door behind him and stood in the threshold of the house. Were they a ‘shoes off’ household? Shit. Having coffee with his drunk friend and her husband was not what he wanted to be doing right now. “Really. I can’t stay long.”

  Vincent led Riley down the hallway, Connor followed at a slightly slower pace. His eyes darted around, curiously taking in the space Riley inhabited. He hadn’t taken her for a sterile person, yet the décor of their house was exactly that. Cool whites, clean lines, perfectly situated indoor plant pots which mirrored each other at the end of the hallway. Going off the way she usually dressed, he had envisioned her as someone who adored colour, maybe the décor was Vincent’s doing. And there was a very noticeable lack of Christmas decorations.

  “In here,” Vincent called over his shoulder.

  Connor followed them into the kitchen. This space followed the same design theme as the hallway. Clean, glistening surfaces, no bright colours – very clinical. And unnerving all of a sudden. This was how stupid people died in those ridiculous horror movies. Naively entering the lair of the unknown killer, completely oblivious to the danger their lives were in. He was in a dangerous situation alright, not with Riley and her husband but with his own wife! The look on her face…shit, he really should have gone after her. Connor forced a small but supportive smile to his lips as Riley plopped herself into a chair and blurted out another dismal apology. Knowing there would be hell to pay with Jen, he still felt a measure of satisfaction over helping Riley. He couldn’t have just left her, he wasn’t that type of person. Jen, once she calmed done, would understand.

  “How do you like your coffee?” Vincent’s gruff question pulled Connor out of his worry.

  “Dash of milk, one sugar.” Connor advised as Vincent started up the coffee machine.

  The weird sound Riley emitted made them both look at her. She blinked a few times then gingerly touched her mouth.

  “Ri, you ok?” Vincent asked.

  “Uh hmm,” she said before clamping her lips into a tight line.

  Vincent quickly wiped his hands against his shirt while Connor peered uncertainly at Riley. She looked unwell and made another one of those weird sounds before slowly rising to her feet.

  Riley gagged at the back of her throat and Connor’s eyebrows shot up. She took one unsteady step, mumbled something about needing to puke and ran out the kitchen.

  “Yell if you need me,” Vincent shouted after her.

  The coffee machine started making the expected noises and Vincent took out three mugs. Connor cleared his throat in the odd silence and checked his watch. He shouldn’t have agreed to Riley’s offer of a drink.

  “Well,” Vincent sighed and spun around to face Connor. “I guess it’s good to finally meet you. Ri’s mentioned you a few times.”

  Connor bit the corner of his lip pensively and nodded. He hoped Riley hadn’t given her husband the wrong impression. Shit. He shouldn’t be here. “Yeah, yes, it’s good to meet you too.” What else was there to say? The odd silence filled the space once more and Connor looked at his watch again. Raising his gaze to Vincent, he sought a way out with a politely worded, “Listen, I should really get going.”

  “Coffee’s almost done,” Vincent advised.

  Connor stared at him. Vincent stared right back. The weird silence returned and Connor resigned himself to being here. For a short while at least. He observed Vincent as he got the milk out the fridge and the sugar from the cupboard.

  Vincent let out another loud sighed then turned towards Connor. “Thanks by the way.”

  “It’s no problem,” Connor assured him. “Just lucky to have bumped into her-”

  “No,” Vincent cut him off. “Not that,” He waved an agitated hand through the air. “I mean, I do appreciate you bringing my wife home,” He flashed him a sort of smile/grimace hybrid. “Thanks for that, but I’m talking about,” He shrugged. It was the type of shrug to encompass everything and nothing at the same time. “The other stuff, you know.”

  Connor knew exactly what he was referring to, and managed a curt nod of acknowledgement. This was becoming even more awkward, and depressing. The coffee machine let out a hiss then beeped and Vincent turned away. Connor checked his watch again. 5:50 pm. It was already dark outside, expected at this time of year. He would guzzle his drink and leave as soon as possible. His cell phone hadn’t rung once, Jen was obviously ignoring all his missed calls.

  “Dash of milk, one sugar, yeah?” Vincent asked as he poured the coffee.

  “Please,” Connor confirmed politely.

  Vincent added the milk and sugar then suddenly left it to stride over to the kitchen door and call out after his wife. Riley’s response must’ve been satisfactory to Vincent because he returned to the counter and finished making Connor’s coffee.

  “Here you go,” Vincent walked over with the hot cup of coffee.

  “Thanks,” Connor muttered as he took it. Vincent went back over to the counter and fixed his own cup of coffee. There was an elephant in the room which Connor had been loathed to address since arriving, but with Riley not being present to act as a buffer, Connor bit the bullet. “Erm, I’m sorry.”

  Vincent glanced up at him while blowing lightly on his coffee.

  “About,” Connor’s voice trailed off and he risked a sip of coffee.

  Vincent’s gaze darted away and he let out a dry half-cough. “Yeah, yeah. Same to you.”

  They fell silent and sipped their coffee. What else was left to say? There were no words to rightly convey the loss they had suffered. It always ended with a sorry.

  Connor gingerly sipped his coffee, then took a couple more sips. Fuck this. He needed to go. Clearing his throat, he walked the few steps to the table and put down his barely drunk cup of coffee. “Look, thanks for the drink, and I hope Riley feels better, but I should head out now.”

  Vincent heard the adamant tone in Connor’s words and slowly nodded in acceptance.

  “Tell Riley,” Connor paused. He had intended to say ‘tell Riley to call me’ but didn’t know how Vincent would perceive that message. “Tell her I said bye and hopefully we’ll see each other at group at some point.”

  “She doesn’t go as often these days,” Vincent put his own cup down and rubbed the lower half of his face. “Not like before.”

  Connor took a few steps towards the doorway. “Yeah, understandable, you get busy and, yeah. I’ve missed a few sessions myself.” He tugged the
open edges of his jacket and moved even closer to the doorway. Would Vincent do the polite thing and walk him out? That would no doubt lead to more talking down the hallway and by the front door. Fuck. Connor just wanted to leave and find Jen. Hoping to circumvent any more awkward conversation, he added, “I’ll see myself out. I know you probably want to get back to Riley and-”

  “Does it ever go away?” Vincent asked quietly.

  “Excuse me?” Connor stopped edging towards the door.

  Vincent touched his chest a few times. “This…this thing, this feeling – does it get better? Do you think it gets better? I know you and my wife talk about stuff,” He frowned slightly. “I know she sees you as her friend, whatever, I just need to know if this damn,” He exhaled loudly, shaking his head in frustration. “You’re in the same boat as us. Does it get better?”

  Connor unclenched his jaw. “Honestly? It hasn’t gotten better for me and I can’t answer it for you. I have no idea if it ever will,”

  Vincent took a deep breath and in a voice devoid of emotion said, “Yeah, figured as much. I’ll walk you out.”

  Connor waited for him to walk past before following him down the hallway to the front door. There was nothing left to say except goodbye. Meeting Riley’s husband hadn’t gone the way he thought it would. A look at his watch confirmed it was 6pm. He hurried to his car, and quickly drove off. All he could think of was his wife’s expression, and things had started out so promising today.

  “Shit.” he growled as he came to a stop behind a line of traffic. If this delay was an indication of things to come, Connor had little hope of resolving this misunderstanding with Jen. By the time he finally got to his mother-in-law’s house, he was frustrated, anxious, and in an all-round bad mood. If they hadn’t bumped into Riley today they might have discussed their next steps forward. He could’ve been in Rose’s house right now with his girls, making plans - Connor parked up across the street from the house and called Jen for the third time. As expected, it went to voicemail. This time he left a message. “Jen, pick up. I’m parked outside your mom’s place. Answer the phone or I’m coming up there. I know you’re here and I know Rose is home too, her car is on the drive next to yours. She’ll let me in if you don’t come outside right now. You have five minutes before I ring that doorbell, babe. Five minutes.” Connor ended the call and stared out the window at the house.