by Howe, Violet
She waited for the waitress to fill my water glass and leave. "I don't think he'd ever back out of it because he knows you want it, and he gave it to you. But I'm telling you, it's a mistake. I know my son very well, Ty. Not as well as you in some areas, I'm sure, but better than you in others. Cabe needs to work on himself. He needs to be alone and process some things. If you love him, and I believe you do, then give him space. Give him room."
"He says he wants to go, Maggie. I'm not forcing him."
She smiled at me, but I could sense frustration hiding behind the curve of her lips. Her eyes didn't even try to fake the smile.
"He wants to make you happy. He wants to keep from hurting you. It doesn't mean he should go."
I wondered how much of this they had discussed. What had he told her that he couldn't tell me?
"Did he tell you this?" I asked.
"We've talked. I don't intend to share details, but suffice to say I wouldn't have called you and asked for this meeting behind my son's back if I didn't feel certain about what I'm sharing with you. I'm fond of you, Tyler. I think you care a great deal for my son, and I know Cabe cares deeply for you. I don't want to see either one of you hurt, and I'm willing to reach out to you to try and prevent it."
What was I supposed to say to that? I didn't want either one of us hurt either. I had my own apprehensions about going to Paris under the circumstances. Was I supposed to tell him I didn't want to go?
I didn't know if I could do that. I wanted to go. I wanted to get him away from here. From Galen. From Maggie, even. They both seemed to be against us being together. I just felt like if we were alone, if we went away together, we could escape all the background noise and connect. Without all the pressure.
Was I wrong? Was she right? Was the trip going to be too much for him, or was it what he needed to see how it could be between us? Why should his mom and his sister get to decide what Cabe and I should do?
I squared my shoulders and forced my voice to sound nonchalant despite the growing burn in my throat. "I appreciate your concern, and I'll think about what you've said. But ultimately, it's up to Cabe what he wants to do."
I wanted to get up and walk out. To get out of there. Her eyes pleaded with me and condemned me at the same time. I couldn't take her stare, and I just wanted to be gone. But I had no car. I had no way back to the office, and we still needed to get the check and pay before we could go. Minutes dragged interminably as we sat in silence.
Finally, she spoke.
"Okay. Well, I tried. You're both adults. Your decisions are your own. Dessert?"
I almost laughed. Her clipped manner belied her disappointment and the offer of dessert provided a mask of politeness which I in turn politely refused.
We rode back to my office without talking, but she reached across the car and gave me another hug before I got out.
Her eyes glistened again, and she smiled at me. "I hope everything works out for the best."
So now the ball is in my court. What do I do? And what do I tell Cabe?
Friday, February 28th
Cabe and I went shopping tonight for cold weather clothes and a few other items for the trip. I wavered all night over whether or not to tell him about my lunch with Maggie. He was in such a great mood, and he seemed genuinely excited. He had been to Paris twice before. Once with his mom and Galen, and again when he took a year off college to backpack across Europe and India.
All night, he described things he wanted to show me, his passionate enthusiasm so contagious I found myself getting pumped up for Paris. But the whole time, Maggie's warnings and the fact Cabe didn't know we talked weighed in the back of my mind, like a slow, blinking red light cautioning me not to fully engage in his excitement.
As we unloaded the shopping bags in my living room and separated out our purchases and receipts, I couldn't hold it in any longer. I felt like a traitor hiding something from him and pretending everything was alright.
"I have something I need to tell you, and I want you to promise you'll stay calm and not get upset."
He froze in the act of folding a shirt and looked at me with confusion. His voice was taut with tension. "I've never understood why people say that. How am I supposed to promise you I won't get upset if I don't even know what you're going to tell me? Not to mention obviously it's going to upset me, otherwise you wouldn't preface it by saying that."
He was right, of course.
"I just don't want you to get all mad or something and it ruin the mood. I've had a really good time with you tonight. I don't want to end it on a bad note, but I also feel like I want to be upfront with you."
He sat down on the edge of the chair, the shirt rumpled and forgotten in his hands. "Go ahead. Shoot."
He was already upset.
"I want you to promise me what I tell you will stay between us, and you won't mention it to anyone."
"You're asking for a helluva lot of promises when I don't have any idea what you're talking about. Just tell me, Tyler."
I took a deep breath and prayed he would take it okay.
"Your mom asked me to lunch on Wednesday."
I could tell he didn't know. It caught him off-guard, and his facial expression changed right away.
"She said she doesn't think we should go to Paris." I exhaled as I said it, the words running together as I rushed to get them all out before he reacted. I barely made it. He stood to his feet pretty much immediately and tossed the shirt aside.
"You're kidding me. Tell me you're kidding. I swear to God if I could just get my family to stay out of my damned life." His jaw tightened in anger, and I could see his pulse pumping at his temple.
I tried to reason with him, although I don't know why I felt the need to defend Maggie. "I think she was just concerned because we haven't been getting along so well, and—"
"I don't care what she was concerned about. She has no business talking to you about my life. She has no business playing puppet master and trying to have other people make my decisions for me. I'm sick of it."
He gathered up his purchases and shoved everything back in the bags.
"Cabe, please don't tell her I told you. I don't want her to be mad at me, and I don't want any tension between the two of you."
"Well, it's a little bit late for that. She's gone too far, and she knows it. But by God, her and Galen are going to learn to stay out of my life. I'm going to make sure of it."
I walked between him and the door, desperate to stop him from leaving that way.
"Wait, Cabe. This is exactly what I didn't want. I don't want you leaving all upset and being mad at your mom. I honestly think she wanted to help. Can you please not say anything to her?"
"No, Tyler. I can't. I'm going to say something to her. I'm going to say a lot to her. You don't even know what all is going on."
I put my hand on his arm but he flinched and jerked it away.
"Then tell me. Tell me what's going on. Let's talk about it. Don't leave upset. Talk to me."
"We're going to Paris. I'm not letting her tell me, or you for that matter, what I can do with my life. Now please step out of the way. I'll call you tomorrow."
Did I do the right thing? Should I have just not told him? He got so mad when I didn't tell him about Galen at the comedy club. I feel like if my mom went behind my back to talk to him, I'd want to know. He got so upset. I knew he wouldn't be happy about it, but I had no idea he'd be so angry.
He commented about Maggie playing puppet master and going too far. He lumped her in with Galen as though the two of them did something to him. What happened? He said I didn't know what all is going on, but I don't know because he hasn't told me! What else has she done? Maybe it has something to do with Valentine's weekend. The long story he never got around to telling. We're supposed to go dancing tomorrow night. Maybe I need to insist he clues me in.
March
Saturday, March 1st
My morning wedding with Lillian went well, and I got done in plenty of time to
catch a nap and be showered and ready when Cabe got here.
He was still on edge. I could tell from the moment he walked in the door. I assumed it stemmed from last night and whatever drama may have transpired between him and his mom today. He refused to talk about it, though.
"Are you okay?" I asked as soon as I saw the scowl darkening his face.
"Oh, I'm fine." The sarcasm dripped from his voice.
"You want to talk about it?"
"Nope." He went straight to the pantry, got out the bottle of gin, and immediately mixed a gin and tonic. Not a good sign.
"Maybe we should just get a movie and stay in tonight."
"No. You have a Saturday night with no wedding. We're going dancing. Cheers." He lifted his glass to me and then drained it.
I sat and watched him for a moment, trying to choose my words carefully.
"Maybe going out's not a good idea. Let's just hang here." I added a bit of extra cheer for encouragement.
"I want to go out. You ready?"
I was, before he stormed in and changed the forecast for the evening. His current mood didn't bode well for a great night out.
"Cabe, I think we need to talk. Why don't you tell me what's going on? With Maggie? With your family?"
"My family—", he stressed the word with such vehemence that I flinched, "is a dysfunctional, twisted and toxic situation right now. It's not something I care to discuss."
"Okay, but I think it might do you good to talk about it. To get it out. I mean, obviously you're upset. Tell me what happened. I want to understand so I can help."
He laughed, but it held no joy. "To help? Yeah. They're beyond help. I'm beyond help. Maybe we're all beyond help."
Wow. Whatever it was had to be serious. To hear him talk like that about his family—about himself—broke my heart and frightened me.
"I wish you'd talk to me, Cabe. I know I've been self-absorbed with the job stuff, and maybe with everything happening between us, I’ve kind of been oblivious to what you're dealing with, but I'm here. I'm listening. Please tell me why you're so upset."
He looked at me for a few seconds, and I could almost see the wheels churning in his head, deciding whether or not to talk. I thought for a minute he had decided to speak, but then he walked to the door and opened it.
"I want to go dance. Let's go."
In hindsight, I should have refused. I should have insisted we stay in and pushed him to talk. I definitely should have kept him from drinking any more, but I didn't know how it was all going to turn out.
He made a beeline for the bar as soon as we arrived, and he drained a drink and hit the dance floor with a vengeance. I've always been a little bit in awe of Cabe's dance skills. I think he inherited his mom's dancer genes. The man has moves on the dance floor which must be seen to be believed.
So fluid, so natural, so sexy. He exudes confidence and charisma, and it only takes a few moments for him to be completely surrounded. Likes bees to honey. Moths to a flame.
We usually dance tight to each other, though, so when girls try to elbow in, there's not a way to get between us. Even before we started swapping spit these last couple months, we've always pretty much danced with only each other. We have moves. We have steps. We know each other's rhythm, and we move well together.
I mean, we've definitely had nights in the past where one of us had someone else on our radar so we flirted or pursued our own interests. But since things turned more intimate between us, there'd been none of that. The few times we'd been out dancing as a ‘couple’, he'd had eyes only for me, and his roving hands along with his body moving against mine left no doubt to anyone watching that neither of us was available.
Tonight was different. Cabe danced wild, a man tormented by his own demons. Alone on the crowded dance floor in his own internal world. He stayed near me, but we didn't connect. In fact, I sometimes wondered if he knew I was there. He had turned his back to me for a short portion of the song, and the space between us allowed a guy to step in.
"Hello," the dancing man said loudly. He gave me the appreciative perusal of a man on the prowl and moved in a little closer.
I took a step back as I danced, looking to make eye contact with Cabe, but he kept his back turned as he moved to the beat with his head down. I twisted sideways to ignore the dancing man, but he moved with me.
"What's your name?" he asked. I spun back around with the music, intending to move closer to Cabe, but he was gone. I searched the dance floor for him, but he was nowhere to be found. I made my way through wild elbows and head tosses until I broke free of the dancers. Cabe was standing at the bar, tossing down another drink. I knew I needed to get him to slow down.
"Hey, where'd you go?" I asked him.
"I got thirsty, and you looked busy." He took another swallow and looked away toward the dance floor.
Whoa. I'd never known him to exhibit jealousy. It surprised me and unnerved me. This wasn't the Cabe I knew. I was in uncharted territory.
I didn't see Dancing Man approach until he was already standing between us.
"Hey, I would love to have just one dance with your girlfriend," he said to Cabe. "May I?"
Cabe stared past me and answered Dancing Guy without looking at him.
"She's not my girlfriend. We're just friends. Be my guest." And with that, he drained his drink and walked away.
I couldn't move or speak. Pain ripped through my gut like I'd been sucker punched. Which I guess symbolically I had been. Cabe had just basically denied my existence in his life. My importance. He had denied any feelings he had for me. Any intimacy we had shared. He had pretty much just handed me over to some other guy without so much as even making eye contact with me.
Talk about being hurt. Humiliated. Embarrassed. And pissed.
I didn't know what the hell he had going on in his head. Obviously he was upset. Angry. In pain about something. But since he had neglected to deem me worthy of hearing about it, I had no idea what it was.
Besides, regardless of what was wrong with him tonight, how could it possibly justify him just tossing me aside? Maybe I had been a bit slow on the uptake of realizing my feelings for him, but I had stood by him through thick and thin for years. I'd done everything I could to be supportive and understanding since he started wigging out about our relationship and what it all meant. Even when he pulled away from me and it cut like a knife.
But this? This was bullshit. It was rude. Hurtful. Disrespectful. Demeaning. Degrading.
I realized Dancing Man was still standing there, his hand outstretched to take mine, and I grabbed it wholeheartedly.
"I didn't catch your name," he said as we entered the dance floor.
"Tyler," I growled back at him. Poor man. He had no idea what the hell he had just got caught up in. Now, I admit I probably could have handled the situation differently, but I reacted based on my wounded pride and my battered heart without giving much thought to all the outcomes.
I rocked Dancing Man's world. I made sure to grind against him. I swayed against him. I teased and flirted and tantalized. I never once made eye contact with him, and I never smiled or spoke, but he didn't care. It probably added to the allure.
I knew Cabe was watching. I could feel it. I didn't know why he'd done what he did, but I knew with everything in me he was somewhere watching me and Dancing Man. I casually scanned the crowd, not wanting him to catch me looking. I didn't see him, but I could feel his eyes on me.
So I put on a show. I'm not proud of it, and in hindsight, it only added fuel to a combustible situation, but I was a woman rejected. I exacted my revenge.
Dancing Man never knew what hit him, and he never knew he didn't have a chance in hell of closing the deal dangling in front of him. He was an enthusiastic, unfortunate pawn in my endeavor to punish Cabe for giving me away.
After a while, I had grown tired of the game and repulsed by Dancing Man's advances. Granted, he was only reacting to the signals I gave him, but it was never about him anyway.
Had he left me here without a ride home? At first, I rejected that as impossible, but I never thought he would hand me over to a stranger, either.
The thought crossed my mind that perhaps he had taken the whole game a step farther and tucked himself away in a dark alcove making out with some other girl. My stomach turned at the thought, and I became just as wary of finding him as I was of not finding him.
I ended up almost running right into him as he careened out of the men's room, sloshing his drink all over me, him, and anyone else in the vicinity.
"Whoa there," he yelled. "It's Buttercup. What's up, Buttercup?"
He was wasted. Messy, sloppy, beyond drunk wasted.
"Where's your guy, Buttercup? Your dance partner?" He sneered the words and grabbed onto a chair to remain upright.
"You're drunk," I stated.
"No shit, Sherlock." The S's slurred and he sputtered spit.
"Come on," I said. "We're leaving."
"Oh, really? Last time I checked, we came in my car. So I don't think you get to tell me when we're leaving. I'm a little sick of all of you telling me what to do."
"There you are!" Dancing Man came up and put his arms around my waist from behind, and I jabbed an elbow in his ribs without a moment's hesitation.
"What the hell did you do that for?" Dancing Man bent over holding his ribs as he glared at me. "You crazy bitch!"
Cabe lunged for him and slammed him to the ground. At least, I think he did. In all honesty, he may have just fallen on top of the guy.
I pulled at Cabe and begged him to stop as he drew his fist back to punch the stunned Dancing Man. Other club goers grabbed him as well and pulled him to his feet, where he wobbled and put out both hands to try and steady himself.