Elena Undone

by Nicole Conn

  “Oh, don’t feed her any more rubbish, Em,” Wave snapped. “Why should she leave ’im? She’s got her entire life wrapped up in her kid, her pastor husband, their church...not to mention the big enchilada for all women hitting midlife—security. It’s one thing for a straight woman to have a wild fling during a midlife crisis and quite another for her to trash her world to enter the insane universe of lesbiana-ville.”

  “That’s just it. She’s not a lesbian...she’s nothing like a lesbian,” Peyton declared.

  “Well...you do live in entirely different universes. Not to mention you’re both doing to her husband what Margaret did to you.”

  Emily’s remark sobered Peyton up. “Oh...thanks for making me feel so much better.”

  “Well, honestly, Peyton.” Emily shook her head. “Don’t you think this has gone on long enough?”

  “Well,” Peyton mused, “apparently so, because this is clearly the part where I get destroyed. There’s not much more to go to from here.”

  “Maybe she was brought into your life for you to remember your priorities,” Emily suggested. “You know. Like writing, getting your assignments in on time. Realizing what a brilliant agent you have who you don’t want to lose because you’re acting like a teenager.”

  “Personally, I think you’re both going to go down in flames.” Wave belched.

  “Thank you for the fatalism.”

  “Hear, hear.” Emily raised her glass. “I’m albla “Il for telling it like it is.”

  “Oh…so that’s how I sound being such a damn downer, do I?” Wave glanced from Emily to Peyton. “Okay, let me put my kinder, gentler hat on. Let’s say we stop lookin’ at it in terms of black and white. You know, where chicks like us live so we can deal with all our endless insecurities. If I were to shed my cynicism—which is no small feat—I suppose there is an infinite array of possible outcomes here. Maybe the secret is to be really smart about the way you approach this—don’t fall into the old clichéd traps—and just maybe you can land somewhere in the middle of the rainbow. Well, metaphorically speaking.”

  “That was quite literary.”

  “It was a thing of beauty,” Emily concurred. “Maybe you’re the one that needs an agent.”

  “Well, they don’t call me summa cum barrista for nothing!”

  *

  That night, Barry walked in to see that Nash had fallen asleep against Tori’s shoulder as Tori eagerly watched the end of a movie.

  “I just want to know why there are so many wretched romantic comedies? I mean, even when they have great actors, they all seem so ridiculous. And you always know how it’s going to end up. You always know the guy’s going to get the girl, or the girl’s going to get the guy—or whatever variation, but you all know how it’s going to end, so why in the heck do we bother sitting through it—even though that’s not how it ends in real life. The guy doesn’t suddenly get that he’s been a rude overbearing jerk and turn into a sensitive guy who can cry, and the bitchy shallow girl was bred that way, and we all will still kowtow to her, so she’s not suddenly going to become less aloof and approachable…and the worst part is that Hollywood knows they can make a bundle because we’ll watch these stupid movies and pay good money to do so, so on and on it goes.”

  “Are you finished?” Barry was irritated as he leafed through the mail.

  “Yeah…pretty much.”

  “Where the hell is Elena? Working on her ‘project’ again? Out with that…that…that woman?”

  Nash’s head popped up, startled.

  Barry glanced at the two of them, disgusted. “You both should be in bed. Tori, I’m too tired to drive you home…you do have a home, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Poppa Bear, I do indeed,” she replied, small and hurt. She got up and exited with what flair she could but it was not very successful.

  Nash, pissed, got up, straightened his sweatshirt and began to head out of the room.

  “Get your butt back in that chair, Nash,” Barry demanded.

  nt>="0">Nash hesitated a moment, then realized his father meant business.

  “Your school counselor called me today. Said you skipped the afternoon altogether. And when you did show up you were smoking a cigarette. You’re an athlete. Why would you do something so foul, so stupid?”

  “It’s my body not yours!” he shouted annoyed, then mumbled, “And all I did was try it.”

  “You’re too smart for peer pressure, Nash.”

  “Oh, that’s sweet. Peer pressure, from the man who spews whatever crap shoved under his nose for a bunch of people who don’t know how to think for themselves!”

  Barry walked right up to his son. “You will not talk to me this way.”

  “You know what Dad?” Nash taunted him. “I will do whatever the hell I want. And I think we both know. You can’t stop me.”

  “GO TO YOUR ROOM!” Barry exploded.

  Nash cowered. Swallowing hard, and appearing as if he might cry, Nash made a beeline for his room.

  “Shit!” Barry cursed at himself, slammed his hand against the wall.

  What was happening to his world?

  *

  Elena came home late, for the first time, perhaps the only time in months, not because she was with Peyton but because she had gotten tied up at the church. When she walked in the door, she felt an odd stillness, wondering where everyone was, and then had the nagging feeling she had forgotten something.

  She wandered to the kitchen and saw the large bag of Farfalla takeout, her favorite Italian restaurant, and in that moment, it hit her. Their anniversary. But Barry had suggested they celebrate over the weekend, and she had been trying to figure out a way for the past week to keep him from attempting to sleep with her—hadn’t planned on dealing with this issue tonight. Not even remotely.

  She walked to the bag and jumped.

  Barry stood in the opposite archway that led to the kids’ room.

  “You…you scared me.”

  “Seems to be a habit.”

  “Barry,” Elena glanced at the bag. “I’m sorry. Did we get our wires crossed? I thought you had a meeting with the chamber, and I had to meet Millie to go over all the budget numbers and it took forever.”

  “I know.”

  lort="0">“What?” “I called.”

  “I…I don’t understand—”

  “I’m sorry. I thought you were with that…your friend. But then I remembered you were supposed to meet with Millie and I called her to let her know I was going to be home after all, so that we could have a nice dinner. You know, maybe celebrate our anniversary today—the actual day, you know? But she was on another call, and they told me you had gone out to get some copy paper.”

  Elena couldn’t tell by Barry’s tenor if he had been checking out her story, or simply upset that things hadn’t worked out.

  “Barry, I’m sorry. Really.”

  Elena went to the bag, pulled out the food. “We could have a bite now?”

  Barry thought about it. “Sure. Why not.”

  The next half hour they sat in uncomfortable silence, eating the dinner that Elena had reheated. They made small talk, he told her about Nash and the call from the counselor and made a pointed comment about his recent acting out. “I think it has to do with all the changes around here, Elena. Look I’m the first to support you in doing stuff that you like. But not when it comes at the expense of the family.”

  Elena treaded lightly and turned to less dangerous topics, discussing the church budget and how Millie was very gratified with how much money they had raised the past quarter.

  The moment they had finished eating, Elena jumped up to clean the dishes. As she ran the water, Barry grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and left the room. She thought she was in the clear, but within a few moments she heard him return.

  She felt him. From behind her. He placed his hands upon her arms, pressed his body close and nuzzled her neck. “I miss you.”

  Elena froze.

  “Baby…I really n
eed you,” Barry whispered, moving against her. She could feel him, felt him grow hard through her skirt. “The dishes can wait.”

  “I…I just got my period, Barry,” she choked out.

  A long moment passed.

  “God damn it, Elena.” Barry did not move. “What the hell is going on? You can’t keep doing this.”

  “Barry —”

  “I don’t know who/what the hell she is to you. She’s just some stranger. We’re your family. And you’re not here anymore, Elena. You’re just never here! You’ve changed…even your clothes have changed.” She could feel the anger seep="be angering from him. “I don’t even know you anymore.”

  “It’s late, Barry. And I know you’re upset. I know this night didn’t turn out the way you planned, but for now, I think it’s best if we just go...to bed.”

  “Come on, El.” She could feel the frustration in his body, as he pleaded with her.

  She didn’t answer, hoping he would leave. When the silence became resounding, his hands gripped tighter upon her arms.

  “Barry,” she stated very calmly, “you’re hurting me.”

  “Christ!”

  He left her standing there. Elena didn’t move for several moments, then crumpled against the sink, tears dropping into the dishwater before her.

  *

  P…I want you to know, nothing happened last night

  I will see you at three. I cannot wait to be in your arms.

  *

  Peyton got the text when she woke the next morning, hung over. Relief flooded through her body. She felt embarrassed. She had overreacted. And now what did she have to show for it? A monstrous hangover. Served her right. But still, how long could they keep this up, and how long would Elena be able to keep him at bay?

  *

  Nash skulked into a small hole-in-the-wall convenience store in a scraggly part of the city. He walked through the aisles, staring aimlessly, mad one moment, indifferent the next, then terrified. How could his mother do this? To him? To them all? Who was she? Did he even know her? He was disgusted.

  He spied something upon the shelf. He stopped. Debated his next move, then nodded. Yes. Just the ticket.

  He nabbed the bottle very quickly, thrust it beneath his coat.

  *

  Elena and Peyton lay together, having made love quickly that afternoon, and were going over the events of the night before, both feeling as if they had escaped a calamity, both knowing their happiness was still a moving target. But neither wanted to deal with reality for the time being, snuggling close together, safe within each other’s arms.

  “Tell me an Elena story...” Peyton whispered.

  *

  Nash ran as fast as he could, his lungs burning, scorching, he was so out of breath. He’d run laps faster than anyone on his soccer team, but this was running for his life. He stopped the second he felt he was out of danger, turned to see if anyone had followed, then continued to jog a little more slowly up a hill.

  *

  As Elena spoke she had become very still, as if the quieter she became, the less her words could damage her.

  “...and we lost her…she was only six weeks old. Six weeks. I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t live with the reality of losing her. My dear sweet Sarah. My life was over…” Elena choked back tears. “When I lost her...I felt I lost everything. Even if Nash still needed me, he was three at the time, I knew I could take care of him, be a wonderful mother, try to be a good wife. Do what I could at the church. It didn’t matter if I didn’t have love...it didn’t matter...because I didn’t deserve it. How can a mother let her baby…just disappear in the night…”

  Elena remained so still Peyton could not even feel her breathing. She did not cry, but Peyton could feel the complete depth of her despair.

  “…nothing else mattered, but being the best mom I could be, and to give back to the world through the church… Nothing else mattered,” Elena turned to her, “until...you.”

  Elena saw that Peyton’s face was etched with pain.

  Peyton said, “Every time I don’t think it’s possible to fall more in love with you...I do...” She leaned to kiss Elena. “...Ever deeper...”

  *

  Nash sat up on a huge cliff, overlooking the skyline of the city. He looked straight out, the wind drying the tears on his face. He picked up his stash, opened the bottle of sour mash whiskey and took another slug, gasping as he had every time before. He found it a little difficult to believe people drank this stuff for enjoyment, and held the bottle out before him. Half gone. Took another swig. He was going to finish this damn thing, but he was getting awfully hungry, felt the burn in his gut from the varnish-like liquid.

  *

  Peyton had just finished making love to Elena, serious, deep and intense, Peyton trying to soothe the pain in a shared raw intimacy, wanting somehow to make it okay, to make Elena feel that she was safe, and that sharing such information was not only natural, but that nothing from this point forward could break their bond. They were in this together, no matter the outcome. They had to be.

  Elena smiled, pulled Peyton closer as Peyton ran fingers through Ehatrs throlena’s hair, lying there in stillness and bliss.

  A loud rapid knock on the door caught them both completely unaware. They both bolted upright.

  “Are you expecting someone?” Elena whispered.

  Peyton shook her head. “Wave would just barge in. Let’s see if they go away.”

  The pounding returned only with increasing velocity and then a voice shouting urgently, words neither of them could make out.

  Peyton jumped into her jeans, threw on a shirt.

  She dashed out of the bedroom, opened the front door to reveal Tori, cell phone in hand.

  “Yeah, it’s nothing like all those people standing around in those stupid commercials is it—you know like they’re really all going to help you during a crisis of no connectivity!”

  Peyton was trying to follow Tori’s stream while at the same time wondering what the hell she was doing at her house and how she knew to find them here.

  “So, where is she? I’ve been calling nonstop for the past two hours?”

  “Uhmm...” Peyton shuffled her feet.

  “Look, I’m on your side, so you can drop the pretense.” Tori barged in without being invited, glancing about for Elena. “I need to find Elena. Now. Nash is in trouble. He lifted some really nasty booze—got snockered and then returned to the scene of the crime for some Doritos of all things.”

  Elena now appeared dressed, and frazzled.

  “Where is he! Is he okay? Is he safe?”

  “I guess it’s the typical acting out with teens. You know their frontal lobe doesn’t take into consideration the consequences of their actions...they’re just not wired to understand stuff like—well like,” Tori spread her hands to indicate the situation, “this!”

  “Dammit! Where is he, Tori!”

  “He was at some juvie center, but not to worry—when they learned Poppa Bear was a pastor, they let him out right away.”

  Elena momentarily stopped shaking, relieved that Nash was safe, and then had to take into consideration their current situation, but before she could even think about that Tori added, “Now they’re both at home. Wondering where you are.”

  Elena looked at Peyton in self-recrimination, then walked out the door.

  Tori shrugged, followed Elena.

  *

  Much later in the evening, as Elena was finishing cleaning up the dishes after what had been a very silent and tense dinner, Barry walked in. Elena felt her entire body stiffen. She had no idea who knew what. But to her surprise, Barry picked up a dish towel and began to help dry the dishes.

  “I guess it’s rather pointless to ask where you were?” He put a glass away.

  Elena removed herself to the opposite shelves. “I already told you. I stopped at the park—”

  “You were there all afternoon—” Barry didn’t turn, but his voice was full of doubt.

>   “No, I was shopping and I guess…” Elena sighed. She hated having to lie. She wondered if she should just tell him. Tell him now. But the thought of everything going up in smoke at once was too much for her to bear. “I…I must have left my cell phone in the car—I’ve told you this. Do you want an exact timeline?”

  Barry laughed. Elena turned to him, surprised.

  “Gotta say, it took some guts for Nash to pull that off.”

  Elena realized as she looked at Barry that he was thinking about the past, when they were young and free to do stupid things like their son had just done.

  “Reminds me of the day,” he stated wistfully.

  “That day is better off buried.” Elena would not have him romanticize his own drinking, how he used to sit night after night when he couldn’t get a gig, and would get drunk instead. Not that Barry was ever even a mean drunk. He’d just sit and get wasted. But since he’d been in his job as the pastor, Barry drank only in moderation. He had left those behaviors behind, and in that and so many other ways, Elena felt like Barry’s position as pastor was all to the good.

  “You’re right. I know we have our problems Elena—well, what couple doesn’t?—and we may have a few cracks here and there...but we also have it so good.”

  Barry put down the dish towel, walked to Elena, pulled her to him. She bristled as she had the other night, again amazed to feel her body’s defensiveness, now so used to Peyton’s skin, Peyton’s gentle touch, and she felt repulsed, but held herself in check, and allowed him to hold her.

  “I don’t know what the hell’s going on with him, El.” Barry’s voice was low and thoughtful and Elena knew she owed him this. “But we’ve got to—I don’t know, maybe spend some more family time together.”

  Then he chuckled. “Yeah...I always think of him as your boy...but he’s got a bit of the ol’ man in him.”

  Elena felt badly now as she watched Barry try to deflect the ongoing rejection by Nash of his father. They had never been close and shefy"lose an knew it killed him.