“I have to go, Chase. I am so emotionally messed up right now. I just have to go.”
Chase jumps out of his truck and comes around to help me out. I feel the warmth of his body as he takes my hand and looks me in the eye. I cannot help it. I am enraptured. He leans in and kisses me again, but even deeper this time, and I know I belong to him and that this is where I am meant to be—where I have been always meant to be. Is this my long-awaited second chance at love?
Life is far more complicated than that. We will have to wait and see what tomorrow brings, as time moves on, one day at a time.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I am brewing some tea as evening falls. The telephone rings, and I figure it’s Mother or one of my wonderful, meddling girlfriends, checking to see whether I’m flirting with the deep end or the handsome police chief. I wipe my hands and answer the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hello, baby.”
I am startled by the sound of Garrett’s deep voice on the other end of the receiver.
“Destiny, it’s Garrett.”
“I know who it is. What do you want? How did you know I was here?”
“Smart guess.”
“Dumb-ass,” I snipe.
“Look, dumb-ass or not, I just want to talk to you. Try to make—”
“Talk to me? Now, you want to talk to me? Why didn’t you want to talk to me back in New York, months ago before you started fucking Eve?”
“I’m sorry things went down this way. I don’t know what else to say, except—”
“You weren’t sorry when you were deceiving me every day of our marriage. And a baby, Garrett? My God! A baby?”
“I didn’t know that part either, until—”
“Until she blurted it out, standing there buck naked in front of us, claiming she’s having your love child!”
“I swear I didn’t know.”
“And you know what makes it even worse, Garrett? You didn’t even have the balls to tell me first—to keep me from being humiliated and annihilated right there in front of everybody. In fact, how many people knew about you and Eve?”
“I don’t know. I swear I didn’t know she was pregnant!”
“I bet you still don’t!” I snap. I want to hurt him so badly, to see him suffer and be deceived the same way he did me. I wish I had held a gun to his head and made him fuck Eve again right there in front of me. The intense and growing hatred I feel for Garrett and Eve is pumping madly through my veins as my blood pressure rises, and I feel a powerful surge of adrenaline, energy, and a desire to push them both off a cliff. I am panting like a wild animal. I am so angry that I have no fear.
“Do you love her?” And still, as much as I hate him right now, I do not want to hear the answer.
“Yes. Yes, I …” Garrett takes a deep swallow. “I do. I love her.”
“Well, then enough said, you sorry piece of shit!” I slam down the phone, and I am so furious at Garrett’s unyielding nerve that I throw the jar of instant coffee across the room. It slams against the wall and rolls under the table. The waves now fiercely crashing ashore reach a crescendo with the ones now crashing in my head. How did I get here, with a husband in love with my best friend and now the mother of his bastard child?
I think about the trip that Garrett and I made together to the abortion clinic that rainy day just months before our wedding. The pregnancy was so far along that I had a small pooch of a tummy clearly visible as I tried on wedding dresses. I even suffered from morning sickness, becoming faint and woozy as I stood there dripping in lace, as an older Spanish saleslady tailored my wedding gown for our big day. At the start of every day, like clockwork, my body regurgitated foul yellow bile that sent me retching over an open toilet. I became nauseated at the smell of cigarette smoke and fish. And I even felt the fetus flutter, like little butterfly wings inside me, while chasing breaking headline news stories throughout New York City.
I still remember the night we conceived and knew the moment we both reached orgasm that we had created life. It was one of the strongest feelings I ever had. It was the feeling of being a woman—a mother. There was so much tender love between Garrett and me then, or so I believed. I was certain God would give us a baby. I think back now and wonder if we should have kept it, even while knowing full well that that was definitely not the right thing to do. We were broke and just starting our careers and a new marriage. We were convinced that we were in no way ready to handle parenthood. I wish we had been as clear about our marriage.
The devil makes me wonder if Garrett and Eve lay around in posh hotel suites, planning their pregnancy, while Garrett and I were doing everything we could to avoid having one of our own. I clearly don’t know Garrett at all. And I am not sure that I really know myself right now either. I know I don’t know Eve, but the bitch must have a platinum pussy.
The phone rings again, and I’m convinced it is Garrett, calling back. It amazes me how arrogant he is to think that he can continue to invade my sacred space like this after he created this hot mess to begin with. I grab the phone.
“What?”
“Look, we don’t need to make this any nastier than it already is, okay?” Garrett starts in. I want to explode. “Can we just talk for a minute like adults?”
“Why now, Garrett? Why now?”
“See, there you go, not listening again! I’m trying to talk to you, woman—trying to make some sense and peace of this.”
“Sense and peace?”
“Look, I know the way I handled everything was really, really wrong, but—”
“No, it was downright shitty, Garrett! Why Eve, Garrett? Just fucking tell me, goddammit! Why my best friend of all people? Huh? What, was our marriage that bad?”
“You were never there!” The truth stings, and I wonder now if it might have been better had he instead said something gross and cavalier like “Shit happens” and then walked off. Instead, Garrett blasts off with, “You were so busy out there, trying to be Barbara Walters, that you were never at home. You didn’t take care of your man, Destiny, Eve did.”
I roll my eyes to the ceiling and count to ten. I don’t know whether to burst into tears or cuss out this motherfucker. I listen as my fool of a soon-to-be-ex-husband rattles on and on, digging a grave with his words and revelations.
“But why Eve?” I press the question.
“Eve is always there for me. She loves me. She takes care of me. She cooks for me.”
“Cooks for you?” I snap. “So, if I’da popped a fat Virginia ham in the oven for you every night after busting my ass covering rapes, murders, and hostage situations all day, we’d still be married? Is that what you’re saying? Jeez, Garrett! What do you want?”
“I want a wife!”
It feels like somebody just plunged a hot steel pole through my heart. As much as my folks never thought Garrett was enough for me, Garrett obviously thought that I was never enough for him either.
“What did you expect me to do, Garrett? You have always known that I’m never going to be anybody’s ‘little wife.’ I have a career. I love you, but I swear I will not get lost in your fantasy of what a woman is supposed to do and be. You can save that shit for Eve.”
“All you think about is your career. It’s like you’re obsessed or something. It’s all you talk about.”
“And what is wrong with that, Garrett? What? It’s not okay for me to want success like you, to make money and have my dreams come true too?”
“I want to be your dream come true. As your man, I needed that.”
“And I needed you as my husband to sit down with me and talk this thing out, instead of screwing my friend! Where was the dignity in that scene in Boston—for any of us? It’s a shame we were all brought to such a level.”
We hang on the phone in pregnant silence. Then he says, “Look, Des. I’m staying with Eve. You can
keep the apartment. Call me if you need anything. Really. I mean it.”
“Fuck you, Garrett!” I slam down the phone.
I would strangle that man if I thought I could get away with it. What he has done to our lives and my heart is a travesty and a shame—our marriage was nothing more than a charade. And for what? To look like the perfect successful news couple when we’re not.
I bolt out of the door in a desperate race for fresh air. I feel as if the walls of the beach house are starting to close in on me, as if Garrett has left his foul scent lingering amid the rafters. I have to have the strong sea wind blow his lame-ass energy off me. He makes me want to puke right now.
The sea seems to sense my distress, as she has turned a dark, almost black-blue. The waves are choppy, and the whipping wind seems to have shifted and is now picking up force. I feel the sharp sting of sand on my cheeks. The sun’s warmth is threatened by huge, puffy clouds blowing in from the south that seem to be gathering. Maybe an angry storm is heading our way.
I walk along the beach, pushing my body through the winds, hoping it will blow away my frayed nerves. I refuse to plunge back into that self-pitying funk I went through in May. It is a new season, and I have promised God, my two best girlfriends, my parents, my late aunt Joy, and myself that I will get through this emotional storm okay—and maybe be even better for it.
It takes so much work.
The sand dunes’ tops are swirling with sand trapped in the wild, frenzied dance of the wind. The sea grass sways in mass confusion. The sandpipers dart across the beach in what seems to be mad scurries for a last-minute meal. The gulls seek refuge from the relentless wind and darkening sky.
I head back toward the beach house, feeling somewhat relieved of my emotional stress. I stretch my arms toward the cloud-filled sky and exhale a long, loud sigh to the whipping wind, praying to hold fast to any glint of hope for better days to come.
Chapter Twenty-Six
After that exhausting phone call with Garrett, all I want to do is climb into bed and go to sleep, pretending that the cruel joke called Garrett never happened. A hot bath and a hot toddy might help me fall into a deep sleep. I just want to escape this feeling that my depression is coming on again.
I get home to a dark house and flip on the light as I open the door. I feel uncomfortable in my own skin, tired of carrying this heavy load of disappointment on my shoulders. Is this what I am bound to face for the rest of my life in love—one disappointment after another? What did I do to piss off the gods?
I find nothing in the kitchen except an old bottle of Pinch scotch in the cabinet under the sink. I am so happy to see this shapely bottle of mercy that I help myself to a big pour, believing it might calm my nerves, settle me down, and help me get a good night’s sleep so I can forget about everything for a while. I drop in a couple of ice cubes and walk out on the screened-in porch. I choose Aunt Joy’s chair; the big wicker rocking one with the tattered cushion that faces the sea. This was her throne. I fold my legs up under me and nestle into what is now my throne. I listen to the ocean waves crashing against the shore.
Even with the gusting wind, humidity hangs in the air like a strong smell. I rub my eyes, realizing how physically and emotionally exhausted I am. I take another long sip of the scotch. It goes down smoothly, warming my insides, soothing my tension and my mind, helping me escape thoughts of Garrett and his lame excuses and Chase with his lame girlfriend, Missy.
I take another sip. While the scotch may lessen my tension, it only magnifies my emotions. I begin to cry, pitying myself for my many failures in love. I take another sip of my liquid relief, feeling a bit light-headed and loose as the alcohol gently seeps into my system, taking me away to a place of no pain. I look out over the darkness, imagining walking into the deep black ocean, disappearing beneath its stormy waves and the howling wind, where no one can hear me crying.
Blindly, I fling open the porch screen door and take off down the steps and across the dunes, onto the beach, and up to the churning water’s edge. Hot tears stream down my face. I begin to wail. Why do I have to constantly have my heart broken?
“I don’t deserve this!” I shout into the whipping wind.
“And when you truly believe that, kiddo, it will stop happening.” Startled, I snap around, expecting to find someone there, but I see no one in the darkness.
“Hello?” I call. “Who’s out there?”
The only answer is the howl of the wind.
I know it was Aunt Joy’s voice I heard. Those sounded like her words of wisdom. Is it the alcohol, or is my dear aunt speaking to me in the wind from heaven? I know she loves me enough that I can count on her anywhere—even after life—and Lord knows I need her now, perhaps more than ever.
“Aunt Joy!” I cry out to pierce my voice through the wind. “If you are here … p-pl-please show yourself.” I keep screaming out for her as if my life depends on it—and maybe it does. “Aunt Joy, if you can hear me, p-pl-please help me. I need you.”
I wait for an answer, swaying and crying in the wind, looking for some kind of sign that I am not alone. I hear nothing but the pounding of the waves. I walk deeper and deeper into the water, staring into the empty blackness of the sea. I feel the warm water whooshing around my ankles … calves … thighs. I move deeper into the churning waters, the salt of my tears mixing with the salt of the sea. I keep walking, waist deep now, being tossed back and forth by the strength of the swirling currents and waves. But I don’t care; I just keep walking as if there’s a huge magnet in the ocean drawing me deeper and deeper into her hypnotic grip. I don’t know why, but I just keep walking.
“How will you ever find love if you give up?”
There’s that clear voice again. But I stumble and turn again in a desperate search for Aunt Joy, but again, no one is there.
A huge wave crashes on top of me and knocks me down. I am tangled in the ocean’s relentless control, until finally, she spits me out onto the shore. It’s as if she’s rebirthing me back into my own life. Trembling and clawing at the sand, I drag myself across the beach and stumble back to the house. I finally make it. The telephone rings. Should I even pick it up? Take the chance that Garrett is calling back with more of his nonsense? Or maybe it’s my girls.
“Hello,” I answer through breathless panting, expecting Hope and Kat on the other end of the phone. I’ll be so happy to hear their voices once again, ensuring me that I am cared for, loved, not alone, and most of all, alive.
“Where have you been?” It’s not Kat or Hope. “I’ve been calling that house for more than an hour now.”
It’s Mother.
“I … I was out on the beach.” I struggle to sound sober. I find myself instinctively straightening my back, my hair, my voice.
“On the beach? At this time of night? What in the world were you doing out there?”
“Well, I was talking to Aunt Joy.”
“Say what?”
“I was … I …” I am fighting to focus through my fog.
“DeeDee, what’s the matter with you? You don’t sound like yourself. What’s going on down there?”
“I’m fi—I am fine. I f—”
“Destiny? You don’t sound well. Are you okay? Hold on. I’m going to put your father on the phone.”
“I gotta go, Mother,” I say.
“Destiny!” Mother snaps, but I am fading far away from her. “Don’t you go anywhere!”
“Gotta go.” I struggle to hang up the receiver, but it crashes to the floor.
I feel dizzy, so full of emotions and scotch. I lie down on the couch and close my eyes, but the room keeps whirling around me. I feel like I am going to be sick, but I can’t lift my head. Oh God, don’t let me throw up all over Aunt Joy’s rose-covered couch. I know how much she loved her roses.
I feel horrible, lying here listening to the wind, and the waves and with my heavy h
eart pounding. And now, I also hear my mother’s questions still pounding in my head. Am I losing it again? I just keep losing it as the phone keeps ringing.
I pass out and slip into a dream that I am floating on top of the sea, my long waves of brown hair furled into the curling waves of the sea. Little cherubs surround me blowing their sweet melodies through conch shells. They have smiles on their plump little faces. Their cheeks and bums are cherry red. They make me smile as I drift along on the ocean’s surface, floating away in a peaceful slumber. And then Aunt Joy gently floats by, dressed in a long and flowing purple gown. I smile, remembering how much she loved purple. Her silver hair is styled in the same bun-in-the-back beach look she wore each summer. I can even smell her gardenia perfume once again as she floats closer and closer to me. I am afraid to wake up, to open my eyes, because she might float away as quickly as she appeared. So I remain very still and keep my eyes closed. Aunt Joy hovers above me. I can feel her there. Then she leans over and kisses me just above my right temple and lovingly speaks into my ear.
“I love you,” she says. “And I am very proud of you. And I’m going to have a talk with that police chief. You two belong together, kiddo.”
And then she disappears into a cloud.
I sit up, wide awake and heart pounding. I am in shock—stymied and startled because the dream was so real. I’m not sure whether Aunt Joy was really here, and even if she was, whether a talk with Chase right now would really make difference. I roll over and bury myself under Aunt Joy’s comforter. It still smells like her. I pray to God that when Aunt Joy talks to Chase, she’s not too late.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The loud and persistent pounding at my front door startles me awake. Whoever is there is also ringing the doorbell with annoying repetition. Who the hell could it be at this time of the morning? My head is also pounding. I reach for my watch on the bedside table—and I realize I never made it to the bed and am still sprawled across Aunt Joy’s couch, smelling like scotch and suffering from a splitting headache. I drag myself off the sofa and make my way into the kitchen to find that it is eleven in the morning! I cannot believe I slept so late, but then again, with this brutal hangover, I see why my body was taking its sweet time facing this morning.
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