by Bella Jewel
“You can’t stay in here forever. The best thing you can do is move on, and the best way to do that is to make your life as normal as it was before.”
I stare at my husband, hurt and a little pissed off. “I witnessed something traumatic, Gerard. It was only a few weeks ago.”
“I know that,” he says. “I’m just trying to help.”
He hangs up his coat and walks down the hall into his study. Just like that the conversation is over. My chest clenches and I lift my hand out of my pocket, staring at the tiny dandelion. What does it mean? What does any of this mean?
I don’t know, but I’m determined to find out.
~*~*~*~
ONE WEEK LATER
I jerk upright in bed, sweat trickling down my face as the nightmare I just woke from subsides. My heart pounds and I press a hand to my chest, trying to breathe. I automatically reach for Gerard only to find he’s not there. Again. Since he went back to work, he’s been spending more and more time at the office and less time at home. He barely comes to bed. I’ve found him more than once sleeping in his study.
It’s like he can’t be near me.
That hurts.
I climb out of bed and flick the light on, padding down the hall. I reach his study and open the door, peering in. He’s staring at his laptop, his body slumps with tiredness. If he’s so tired, why doesn’t he come into bed? “Hey,” I say softly.
He spins around, glancing at me. “Hey. What are you doing awake? It’s late.”
“It’s only ten and I had a nightmare.”
His face goes blank. “Sorry.”
God, where has my husband gone? “Gerard, can we talk?”
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “About what?”
“About this. About us.”
“I don’t know what there is to say, Lucy. Things have been strained since it all happened, and I don’t think it has anything to do with what you saw.”
“Please don’t start this argument again,” I plead.
His eyes meet mine. “You still believe he’s real. You think I can’t see it in your face? I’ve seen the searches on Google.”
I take a step back. “You’re checking up on me.”
“You are still searching for him and refusing help. What will you have me do?”
“Believe me!” I snap.
“I don’t,” he grunts. “I don’t believe you, and I’m sick to death of your obsession over this non-existent person, mostly I’m sick of you refusing help.”
“I’m not doing this again,” I say, crossing my arms. “I’m not talking with you about it, you’re still making me feel guilty.”
“I want you to stop.”
I flinch. “Pardon?”
“I want you to stop thinking about him, talking about him, and searching for him.”
“No,” I say simply. “He saved my life, but more importantly, he’s supported me when I most needed it.”
His eyes narrow. “Really?”
The way he’s talking to me right now, the way he’s mocking me—anger bubbles forth and I spit, “Yes! When I planted that rose for our baby and you left because work, as always, was more important.”
His face grows red, and I know my words are cruel. I don’t take them back, mostly because I can’t, but also because my pride won’t let me. “Now you’re imagining that you’re seeing him.”
Imagining. I can’t take this anymore. “I’m done here.”
I turn my back to him and hear his chair scrape back. “Seriously, Lucy. If you’re imagining him, you need more help than I can give.”
“He’s real!” I scream so loudly I scare myself. My hand goes up and clamps over my mouth, horrified.
“Tomorrow I’m calling a doctor. I can’t take this anymore.” His voice growing cold.
“What?” I whisper.
“You need help. If you won’t take it, I’ll make you get it.”
I turn on shaky legs and rush out. He calls me, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop.
I need to get out of here.
CHAPTER 8
I drive to the baseball stadium.
I haven’t been there since that awful night, but tonight I know it’s time to go back and face it. Maybe there will be something, anything that will give me the answers I need, or maybe I’m just grasping at straws because there is no other way out. Rain falls as I near, coming in heavy drops, sliding down my windscreen as I come to a stop in the empty parking lot. There is no one around, but there is still police tape everywhere.
With trembling hands, I push my car door open, stepping into the freezing cold rain without second thought. My eyes scan over the dark stadium and I walk towards it, my feet lifeless on the pavement. I stop at the front entrances that are fully blocked off and just stare. Sounds, memories, pain—it all flashes back into my mind like a nightmare.
Screaming. Gunshots. People crying and begging.
“Hunter?” I croak.
“Yeah, Lucy?”
“What do they want?”
“I don’t know, honey.”
I sink to my knees at the gate, my fingers finding the soft grass beneath me, and I sob. I break; I let it all go, including the girl I was. I know now that I’ll never be her again, and she’ll never be me. I’m a different person, and I can’t keep pretending I’m not. My marriage has crumbled; I can no longer pretend it hasn’t.
The rain keeps coming, mercilessly, soaking me to my very bones. I don’t care. I stay on the ground, crying, shaking, getting saturated because it’s the only way I can cope.
Strong arms wrap around me.
For a second, I’m stunned. My body is hauled off the ground.
I start to squirm, crying hysterically and trying to see the man holding me.
“Lucy girl, hush.”
Heath.
Always the hero.
Always the intruder.
How can someone so successfully be both?
I make a pained, squeaking sound and cling to him. I throw my tiny arms around his neck and hold on, pressing my face into his chest, clutching him as if he’s the only thing keeping me breathing. He walks me to my car, but I’m too hysterical to do anything but hold on with everything I’ve got.
“Calm down, sweetheart.”
I clutch him harder, my fingers curling into his shirt.
“Lucy, look at me.”
With great effort, I pull back and look up at him. He’s stares down at me, his eyes intense. A streetlight in the parking lot lights up his face, and I realize in that moment just how much I’ve needed to see it. Those eyes. That mouth. The hair falling over his forehead. I should have turned and looked at him that day in the park. I should have etched him into my mind.
“Everyone thinks I’m c-c-c-crazy,” I sob. “My husband is going to force me to see a doctor.”
“Calm down for me.”
“I can’t. I can’t. I’m trying, but I can’t. Nobody believes me. I’m so alone. So afraid.”
Our eyes hold and meet. He’s so beautiful.
“Your family is only trying to take care of you. Imagine how this looks for them?”
“They think I’m crazy!” I cry.
“You’re not giving them any other choice.”
“No, you’re not giving me any other choice,” I cry, shoving at his chest. “Why would you do that to me? Why would you just keep coming back? If you don’t want me in your life, then you shouldn’t keep showing up and making things so much worse.”
His eyes flash with regret. “I’ve told you that you shouldn’t be looking for me.”
I cry harder, my body shaking. “Then stop showing up and making this even more confusing.”
“I have to keep an eye on you because I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Why would I get hurt?” I yell, pulling back and looking up at him.
He studies my face. “Because I know you keep asking about me and continue to mention me. You have to stop doing that.”
�
��If you’d let me contact you, I wouldn’t have to.”
“I can’t exist in your world or any world right now. Don’t you understand that? I can’t confirm who I am to your family or anyone else.”
“Why?” I yell, exasperated.
“Just trust that it’s how it has to be. Stop mentioning me, Lucy. Stop looking for me. I know about the email to the stadium.”
I flinch. “I was just trying to find out if you were real.”
“Give me your hand.”
He takes my hand and pulls it against his heart. “Do you feel that? It’s a beating heart. You’re not crazy. I’m real. I’ve been here, watching you, doing my best to come into your life when I can, but you’re making it difficult. You need to start trying to fix yourself, and maybe, one day, I can introduce myself for real—but that time isn’t now.”
“I don’t want to fix myself. I don’t want any of it anymore.”
“You have to try, Lucy girl.”
“I can’t,” I stammer and my face grows red with embarrassment.
He looks up, his eye catching something in the distance. “I have to go.”
“No,” I cry, clutching him desperately. “Please don’t go again. I can’t live with it. It’s confusing me.”
“I have to,” he says, prying my fingers from his shirt.
I cry harder. So hard my body shakes.
“Jesus, I’m sorry, honey,” he murmurs, leaning forward and kissing my forehead. “But I have no choice—I hate this as much as you do.”
Something sharp stabs into my neck, and my entire body goes woozy.
“Please, just trust me. This is for the best.”
My mind spins and I’m not cold anymore.
“Don’t leave me again, moment.”
“Moment?” he whispers, at least, I think he does.
“A fleeting moment. You go as fast as you came. Just a moment I can’t hang on to. Please let me hang on.”
Warm lips graze my forehead and then my world goes dark.
~*~*~*~
I wake alone in my car that’s still parked at the baseball stadium.
It’s daylight.
I blink and sit up, staring down at my clothes. I’m wearing a shirt I don’t recognize, but my pants are the same. I clutch the fabric in my fingers and bring it to my nose, inhaling. Heath. It’s his. It wasn’t a dream. Tears pool in my eyes and I reach up, rubbing my neck. Did he drug me? Did he change my clothing and put me in his shirt? I don’t understand. Why would he do that?
I peer around. The parking lot is still empty. It’s as if nothing ever happened, but his shirt is proof that something did. I rub my face, trying to remember what he said to me but I was a mess and it’s hazy. All I know is that he was here. He keeps telling me to stop looking for him, yet he keeps popping up. How the hell am I supposed to make sense of that?
I turn the key, starting my car, then I glance at my phone, still sitting on the passenger seat. I pick it up, and see it’s on. I narrow my eyes and bring it closer. I turned it off; I know I did. I unlock the screen and my memo app is open. Words confront me and my heart pounds as I read them.
I am as good as a moment, Lucy Girl.
You need to let me go.
One day, we might meet again.
That time isn’t now.
I swallow the lump forming in my throat and hit save.
I no longer have the strength or the will to walk away from him.
I put the car in drive and head home. I know what I have to do; I know what’s fair. Gerard deserves better, and the person I am now is not the person he married. It’s not fair to keep putting him through this.
The very thought of what I’m about to do hurts. It puts an ache in my heart that I never wanted to feel. Once, I thought I could never love anyone the way I loved him. I truly believed that would never change.
But it has.
Circumstances took my feelings into their hands and crushed them.
It takes me twenty minutes to get home, and when I do, the tears are already welling beneath my eyelids. I hate what I’m about to do, but I have to be honest with him. I have to let him go. Maybe, when all this is over, it’ll be different but for right now, Gerard no longer has all of my heart, and he deserves so much more, something better.
I get out of the car and walk inside. Gerard stands by the kitchen counter, his hands resting against it, his back to me.
“I saw your email.” Gerard’s voice hits me, cold, broken, and empty. He’s given up, too. I can’t blame him for that.
“Gerard,” I whisper, walking towards the kitchen.
“Why did you send it? Why did you do that when you know it makes me uncomfortable?”
“Because I needed to find him. I sent it back when I got out of hospital . . .” I say to my hands.
He spins around, and his eyes drop to my shirt. “Whose shirt is that?”
“I went to the baseball stadium last night, and he was there.”
His face contorts in irritation. “So you slept with him?”
“No,” I cry, jerking backwards. “No, of course not. Jesus, Gerard. I was a mess, soaked from the rain. He told me he can’t see me and he drugged me. I woke up this morning in the car, alone.”
His face twists. “He drugged you?”
“Yes.”
He shakes his head sadly. “Where did you really get that shirt, Lucy?”
My mouth drops open. “I just told you.”
“You’re not telling me the truth.”
“I am,” I snap. “That’s exactly what happened.”
“So this mystery stranger found you soaking wet, drugged you, changed you, and disappeared?”
“Yes!”
He shakes his head and furrows his brows, looking horrified. “Are you hearing yourself? You need help. You’re creating stories that are completely unrealistic.”
My heart pounds so hard I can barely hear. “I’m not lying, Gerard.”
“To get to the point you actually got another man’s shirt and made up a story like this to get me to believe you . . . honestly . . .”
“I’m telling the truth. He was there!”
“He doesn’t exist,” he screams so loudly I flinch. Gerard very rarely yells at me. “He doesn’t fucking exist, Lucy. You need help. God dammit, you need help.”
I spin around. “I don’t!” I cry. “I don’t need help. I just need you to believe me.”
He shifts, his entire body stiff. “So you can chase another man?”
I shake my head. “This is not about you and your jealousy.”
“Jealousy?” he roars. “Of course I’m jealous. You’re home, but you’re not really here. Your mind is on him all the time, I can see it. Your focus is on him. It’s all you think about. What about me? What about what I’m feeling?”
“I care about how you’re feeling,” I yell. “I do, Gerard. I wish I could take your pain away, but it’s very hard when you refuse to have my back.”
“You want me to support your need to chase a non-existent man?”
I shake my head. “I can’t do this. I can’t.”
His eyes flash. “Neither can I, Lucy. You’re my wife, I want to help you, but I can’t do that until you let this go. Are you willing to do that so we can go back to the way we were?”
I study him.
Really study him.
He’s asking me to let it go, completely. He’s asking me to agree that Heath doesn’t exist and just move on.
To pretend.
That would be lying to myself and him, and that isn’t fair.
I can’t give my husband what he’s asking. “No, Gerard. I’m not willing to let it go, and you deserve better than to have to put up with it.”
He looks at me sadly, then shakes his head. “I can’t be here anymore.”
My heart pounds, reality washing over me. “No, I don’t think you can.”
His face twists. “You’re not the same person I married, and until you get the help you need
, I can’t do anything else.”
“So much for better or for worse, right?” I mutter, trying to fight back my tears.
He runs a hand through his hair. “You’re asking me to be okay with this, and I’m not. I’ve pushed for you to get help, but you refuse. I’ve tried to be there for you, but you won’t let me in. I can’t help you if you don’t want to be helped, and I also can’t sit around and watch you chase another man.”
I shake my head, so hurt I can barely breathe. I know this is for the best, but to hear us both giving up so easily surprises me, and hurts me, and makes me realize I’m doing the right thing. We had a perfect marriage, but it was all on the surface. When it came down to the hard stuff, neither of us was willing to put in the good fight.
This is for the best.
“This is for the best,” I tell him. “For both of us.”
“Promise me you’ll get help. I’m scared to leave you alone believing there is a man out there that isn’t real.”
“He is real,” I pathetically argue.
“He’s not,” he roars so loudly I flinch. “He’s not real. You need help.”
“Gerard, we’re not doing this. Clearly neither of us is willing to put in the effort.”
He stares at me sadly. “I thought you were the one. I was wrong.”
That hurts. So bad.
He turns, grabbing his keys and disappearing out the door, slamming it so loudly the windows shake.
I lower down to the ground and sob.
There goes the last of my life, breaking into a thousand tiny pieces.
CHAPTER 9
My phone rings and rings.
I ignore it.
It’s Gerard’s sister. Her place is where he would have gone. She hates me; she’s always hated me. She and Gerard are extremely close and when he married me, she felt like that was taken away from her. She automatically began to resent me, like it was my fault he fell in love. She’s never been nice to me, and she’ll thrive on this drama between us. She’ll be feeding it, too.
I don’t have the patience to deal with her.
I turn my phone off and throw it against the wall with a yell. I can’t take any of it anymore. I push to my feet and on shaky legs, I go into my bedroom, pulling out a suitcase. I pack a bag and find my car keys, then I lock up our house and leave, finding a hotel in the city. A place where no one can find me, where no one can bother me.