by Portia Moore
I pull up in front of the house. I don’t want to disturb her. It seems like she hasn’t gotten a lot of sleep in all of this, how could she? She starts to stir and I watch her wake. She glances out the window and sees that we’re back at my parents’ house.
“Great!” she mutters.
“What’s wrong?”
“Your fiancée is over there,” she says, gesturing towards the house. My heart immediately starts to beat out of my chest when I see Jenna sitting on my porch.
“I know you didn’t want to talk about what happened when Cal came back but it might help you to know that Cal told her that we slept together,” she says quietly. Before I can respond, Jenna’s come down from the porch and is in front of the steps of the house. Normally dressed so well, she has on jeans and an uncharacteristic oversized hoodie, her hair pulled back.
“Just stay in here while I talk to her,” I tell Lauren who sighs and rolls her eyes but complies.
“Jenna, what are you doing here?” I ask, but before I’m even near her the smell of alcohol nearly knocks me out.
“Really, Chris? It’s funny how within just a couple of days, the question of my presence is a necessary one,” she says with tears in her eyes and I feel a sting of guilt.
“I’m sorry Jenna.”
“No! No more apologies or your weak excuses. I am done with you, Christopher Scott,” she says, nudging me in my chest. “Do you understand what it’s been like for me since she arrived,” she yells, pointing at Lauren in the truck. “She ruined everything! This wasn’t supposed to happen. We were getting married. You loved me!”
“I still love you, Jenna. It’s just I can’t hold on to you while I figure things out with me. You deserve better than that,” I try to explain.
“I’m done talking to you. I didn’t come here to talk to you. I want to talk to her. She deserves to face me!” she says as she shifts her weight between her feet. Oh no.
“Jenna. I’m taking you home,” I say, grabbing her arm as she tries to pull away from me.
“No! This is between me and her,” she says, snatching her arm away and heading towards the car where she proceeds to beat on the window, causing the alarm to go off.
“Get out and defend yourself you stupid whore,” Jenna says as I pull her over to her car.
“What is going on?” My dad comes out of the house, looking confused.
“Jenna’s drunk. I’ve got to get her home,” I tell him, even as she continues to tussle in my arms.
“She ruined everything!” Jenna screams. “She doesn’t get to just get away with it,” she continues yelling.
“Jenna calm down. Stop this—you’re better than this!” I tell her firmly.
“Apparently that’s not true because I’m still not good enough for you!” she says, pushing me. My dad has made it down the stairs and over to us. Lauren has gotten out of the car at this point and is headed inside the house, which sends Jenna into a frenzy.
“You trapped him with your kid. That’s the only reason he chose you. Slut!” Jenna screams. Lauren stops in her tracks and scowls at her.
“Lauren, don’t. She’s drunk. Please just go in the house!” I yell over at her.
“Oh please don’t, bitch! I’m right here,” Jenna continues to taunt her as me and my dad attempt to get her in the car. Lauren stops in her tracks. Thankfully my mom appears in the doorway and says something I can’t hear and Lauren goes in the house.
“One big happy fucking family huh, Chris?!”
“Jenna. Where are you keys?” my dad asks her firmly and she slams her hands against the hood of her car.
“Jenna, stop it!” I yell at her. I have never seen her like this before.
“Don’t talk to me, Chris. Let your dad take me home. I never want to see you again. Never!” she screams at me before stumbling into the passenger side of her car.
“I’ll drive with her. Follow me over,” he says before getting into the driving seat of her car. I make my way over to Lauren’s car and when I look back at Jenna gives me the middle finger. One I have to admit I deserve. Once I’m in the car I let out a deep breath before resting my head on the steering wheel. Everything Jenna said, I deserved to hear. I should have told her as soon as Lauren got here that we should take a break. I just hoped, I thought that things would end differently, that somehow everything would work out in the end, that no one would get hurt and that there would be a happy ending in this for everyone involved. After everything I thought that we could all get our happy ending, but the longer this goes on the more it looks like no one’s going to get it.
*
It only took my dad a few minutes to get Jenna in the house. It seemed like the ride over calmed her down or the alcohol made her sleepy. I can’t believe I’m the one who drove Jenna, a self-respecting, intelligent, beautiful strong woman to get beyond wasted and turn into a person I’ve never seen before. Is this what I do to people? Break them down, destroy their happiness? Is this what my life has come to? My dad looks relieved once he’s out of the house. I see him pause and shake his head before making his way over to the car and getting in. Once he does he lets out a deep breath.
“How is she?” I ask, too embarrassed to look at him.
“Jenna will be fine. She’s strong…she just…sometimes you need that moment to crack,” he says quietly.
“I know she’ll bounce back, I just hate that I’m the one who caused the pain she is in. That I lost a friend.”
“Let’s get going, son,” he says and I start the car and drive home. I’m surprised that he’s quiet and hasn’t mentioned anything about what’s happened. I knew I’d get an earful about how he was right, and Lauren being around is a bad idea, and that what I did to Jenna was wrong. I’m sure she told him everything that happened while he was in there. Maybe he’s just giving me a break for tonight, one that I’m grateful for. The only thing I want to do right now is sleep.
I turn off the car and start to get out.
“Chris,” he says before we’re both out of the car. I let out a deep breath. I knew it was coming.
“I was really glad to hear your voice today,” he says, patting me on the shoulder.
“Don’t worry about everything today, there’s always tomorrow for that” he says, getting out of the car. I start to follow him and my vision gets blurry.
I’m no longer walking down the lot to my house but down a street, one that looks familiar, the houses look run down, the grass is over grown and most of them look abandoned. A couple of cars pass by. I make my way up the stairs of one of them. Chipped green paint covers the outside of it. The railing on the stairs is crooked. It’s dark out but the light on the porch flickers as if it is being powered by the least bit of energy. I knock on the door three times. The reflection on the dirty plastic portion of it reveals me with a baseball cap on my head and a worn jacket. A deep voice on the other side asks "Who is it?"
“It’s me,” he replies.
Cal.
A second later the door cracks before opening. It’s a man, a big man, at least 6’3" and about 260 pounds. He lets me in and I close the door behind me.
“He’s downstairs,” he tells me.
“Good,” I reply as I follow. The house is pretty empty. There’s an old dirty couch in the living room only accompanied by a tiny old TV, card table and a mini fridge. I follow the man to a door revealing a basement. I follow him down, the air immediately becoming cooler and stale. When we arrive at the bottom there’s another man, this one skinny in a big painter's suit and a cap on his head. Then I see him. A man tied up in chair with a black cloth over his head.
“We didn’t touch him. He’s perfectly intact just like you wanted,” the big dude says.
“What’s the blood on his knee from?” he asks wryly.
“Moving damage,” the little guy chuckles. He stops laughing at the look Cal shoots him. He grabs one of the folding chairs, putting it directly in front of the restrained man. Cal removes the black hood from the
man’s face, revealing a terrified man with tape over his mouth. He steps back, arms folded across his chest. He kneels down so he’s at eye level with the man. The man has hooded dark brown eyes and thick bushy eyebrows with olive skin, and a small scar on his left cheek.
“So, this is the guy?” he asks dryly.
“That’s him,” the skinny one says.
“Clay Rice,” the big one chimes in.
“Now, I’m going to take this off. If you scream we’re going to have a problem. So you’re not going to scream. Right??” Cal says tightly. The man nods frantically.
Cal snatches the tape off the man’s face. And he lets out a small yelp.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
“C-Clayton Reece,” he stutters, not looking at anyone in the room.
“How old are you, Clayton?”
“Thirty. Th-thirty nine, sir,” he says as tears pour out of his eyes.
“Do you have any kids, Clay?”
“Yes sir. A seven year old girl. She’s my world, sir.”
“Have you ever been to jail, Clay?”
“Yes sir. For a few car robberies when I was younger. Nothing since. I’m straight sir. I-I don’t know what I’m doing here,” he starts to say in a panic.
“Calm down, Clay. If you start rambling, that’s just going to irritate me and I’m already pretty irritated. Do you have a tattoo on you back?”
“Yes sir,”
“Of what?”
“Of an e-eagle, sir,” he says, starting to cry. Cal lets out a deep sigh.
“Do you have his wallet?” Cal asks. The smaller guy tosses it to him.
“Okay, Clay. I’m going to put this tape back on your mouth and this hood back on your head, but don’t worry. These geniuses are going to take you back home and you’re going to forget this ever happened, okay. I’m going to take this just in case,” he says, showing the man his ID.
“Wait, what?” the big dude exclaims.
“And for your trouble,” Cal says, pulling out a stack of hundred dollar bills and stuffing it in the man’s shirt, then he puts the tape back on the man’s mouth.
“What are you doing? That’s our money” the skinny guy says.
“This isn’t him,” Cal says calmly.
“What do you mean this isn’t the guy? He fits the description."
“This isn’t the fucking guy!” Cal yells.
“I told you his name was Clay RICE. I told you he has a tattoo of a motorcycle on his back. I told you that he’s about 6’4" and this guy can’t be over 5’11" you fucking idiots!” Cal roars and they both look confused and quiet.
“We thought he was lying or changed his name,” the big guy says defensively.
“No fucking excuses! Drop this guy back off tonight in his neighborhood, with the money. Then how about you find the right Clay?!” he roars, heading up the stairs of the basement.
“Alive!” he adds, before leaving and slamming the door...
“Chris!” It’s my mom. Holy shit! What was that?
She runs down the porch stairs and hugs me like I’m five years old again.
“It’s okay mom,” I assure her as she dotes on me like a toddler.
“I was so worried about you. I didn’t know when I’d see you again,” she says with tears in her eyes.
“I’m not going anywhere mom,” I tell her with as much confidence as I can, but to be honest I don’t know when it’ll happen and I’m starting to see things maybe I don’t want to know about.
“Are you okay honey?” she says gripping my face and looking into my eyes.
“Yeah. Just. All of this, you know,” I say as calmly as I can. She nods.
“I-I’m sorry about how things have gone with Jenna,” she says, and I give her a weak smile.
“Me too,” I say as I take her hand and we walk into the house.
“Are you hungry? I haven’t cooked anything since you left,” she chuckles.
“I’m sure dad was thrilled about that,” I joke, trying to lighten the tension.
“Honey, your dad couldn’t eat a bite either. We were so worried after that phone call with Cal,” she sighs.
“What phone call?”
“Oh. I thought Lauren might have told you,” she says looking away nervously.
“Ugh. I didn’t. I kind of asked her to not talk to me about what happened when he was here,” I admit, feeling like an idiot now. She looks at me sympathetically.
“It wasn’t a big deal. Just. Well Cal being Cal,” my mom sighs with a shrug.
“I’m actually going to skip dinner mom. I just need to get some sleep,” I say, kissing her on the forehead.
“Honey, things are all going to work out just fine. I know it,” she says before I leave the kitchen. I give her as much of a smile as I can muster. If only I could believe that, but now not only do I have to worry about what happens when Cal comes but what the hell he’s done when I wasn’t here.
chapter 9
Lauren
It’s going to be a new wonderful fantastic day. Well, even if it’s not, it can’t get any worse than yesterday. The sky would literally have to fall to beat that disaster. I think back to last year, when it was just me and Caylen, how simple things were then. Except I was lonely, frustrated and I had a broken heart. The sad thing is not much has changed. Well, now I’m beyond frustrated, confused, and I’m afraid to break someone’s heart. I’m afraid that I’m not good enough for one of them, that I’m not strong enough for the other, yet I can’t let either of them go. Great, right? At least I got to see Caylen. Hold her in my arms and her little smile makes all of this seem worth it. Even being called a slut who used my own child to keep a man who is about to have me on the brink of a psychotic break down is worth her smile.
It took everything in me to not go after Jenna yesterday but I knew she was drunk, and deep down I can’t blame her for being angry. I try to remind myself that my life wasn’t the only one disrupted, hers was too. It’s just hard to feel sorry for someone who is such a bitch, and how could she call me a whore when I’m the one married to…well, them I guess.
I’m married to them.
It’s like the title of a Jerry Springer episode.
I’m so hungry, but I’ve been avoiding the kitchen like the plague. I just can’t see the Scotts right now. I can’t help but feel it’s my fault for Cal coming back, which to them is like spreading the plague. Then, being in the middle of Cal’s epic tantrum. I know Mr. Scott blames me. Mrs. Scott was so sweet and comforting, yesterday. I know she’s going through so much on her own. Not knowing who your son is going to be when he shows up, has to be as bad as not knowing who your husband is going to be. The good thing in all of this is Helen comes today, and I am hoping talking to her will help me to sort this out, to be able to talk honestly without worrying if I’m hurting someone. To tell someone how much I’m hurting. My phone starts to vibrate and I see it’s Lisa. I instantly feel guilty about telling Chris what she told me. I at least should be the one to tell her before he does. I’m not sure if Chris will, but just in case.
“Hey,” she says, not sounding like her usually chipper self.
“Hey Lisa. How are you?” I say, trying to muster up my own chipper tone.
“Okay, I guess. I was hoping you could meet me, so we can talk,” she says, her voice almost monotone. Maybe Chris called her or went over there last night and she’s pissed.
“Uhm. Did you talk to Chris?”
“Not today. I wanted to talk to you first,” she replies.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Okay is relative isn’t it?” she kids, sounding for a moment like the Lisa I’ve come to know.
“I have to meet with a friend later on today…”
“Can we meet now?” she interrupts. I look at the clock, it’s not even 7:30 am.
“We can get breakfast. There’s a diner named Goldman’s about five minutes away from you. It’s on me.”
“Uh. Okay. Give me twenty m
inutes.”
“Great. I’ll text you the exact address.”
“Thanks.”
“Oh, and Lauren, can you not mention to Chris that you’re meeting me?” she adds and the twinge of guilt I felt earlier turns into a complete stab.
“Please,” she says after my long pause.
“Not a problem,” I say hesitantly.
“See you soon.”
*
When I walk into Goldman’s, it’s relatively empty. I guess for a Tuesday morning it’s expected. I easily spot her in the booth stirring her iced water with a straw. I walk over to the booth and slide in.
“Thanks for coming,” she says with a small grin. Her hair is pulled back into a short pony tail. She doesn’t have her usual make up on. Any actually. Her blue eyes dart between me and her water.
“You didn’t bring Caylen.”
“No, Mrs. Scott is going to keep an eye on her until I get back.”
“Chris didn’t work today?”
“I’m not sure. I’m actually sort of avoiding him,” I say with a sigh. Her eyebrow raises.
“You know the whole Cal coming back thing has kind of thrown things off track,” I joke and I notice her smile tighten.
“About Cal. I’m so sorry that he spoke to you that way,” I say apologetically.
“Did he say anything about me?” she says abruptly. Other than calling her a lying little cunt…
“Not much,” I lie. She eyes me searching my expression as if she’s looking for another answer. Or to see if I’m lying.
“I-I have to tell you something,” I say hesitantly. Her eyes narrow in on me.
“I told Chris that you knew about Cal from when you were younger,” I rattle off quickly. I expect her to become angry, to start screaming at me about how I betrayed her trust, but she doesn’t. She laughs and lets out a relieved sigh.