by Portia Moore
“Can I speak to you privately, Helen. Just for a moment,” Lauren asks quietly. “If you don’t mind, Chris.”
“Take all the time you need.” I need some fresh air. Before I leave the room, I look back at Lauren who is looking at me but with a look that she’s sorry. I don’t want her apology, and I don’t want her to feel guilty either. Cal or Collin don’t deserve anyone’s guilt.
Lauren
The moment Chris closes the door I feel my chest untighten. I get up from my seat and stand in front of her desk.
“Why would you ask me that in front of him!” I shout at Helen.
“Lauren, it is important that they are all on the same page about intimacy with you, otherwise there will continue to be a conflict which will never allow for integration.”
“Aren’t there levels or steps that you take? You can’t just throw the elephant out there when you have two people trying to figure this crappy puzzle out!” I spit out at her.
“When you came today I assumed that he knew your feelings about things. You don’t invite someone to your therapy session when you are walking on eggshells.”
I laugh feeling bitterness crawl up my chest. “That’s what this was about—you are punishing me for coming with him!”
She lets out a deep breath and an aura of calm surrounds her, while I feel like I’m running a marathon.
“I’m not here to punish anyone, Lauren. I am here to help you and your husband live the best life possible.”
“Well, what you just did isn’t going to help things at all.”
“Yes it will if you two address the situation directly instead of avoiding the issues that will hinder his progress,” she counters. I let out a deep breath and sit back in my seat. “I understand where your anger comes from. However, do you really think this issue will cause the end of you after everything that you two have faced?"
“Of course I don’t, but it does not make things easier,” I mutter.
“Cal and Collin share awareness,” she says and my eyes widen.
“So Cal knows everything that happened with Collin…” She nods before I finish my questions. I push my hands through my hair. Well, that’s going to go great with Cal when he decides to show up.
“I’m in love with this man. One person—I don’t care who he calls himself or how he decides to behave on what day. I shouldn’t feel guilty for sleeping with my husband… but I do. How do I stop feeling that way? I know that Chris and Cal are going to be angry, but do I deserve their anger when I am technically with my husband?"
“First things first—you can’t live a separate life with each of them,” she says and I’m baffled by what she means by that. “Regardless of who he transitions into, you need to make life consistent. You need to remain the same person with each.”
“I try to do that now,” I tell her and she gives me a disbelieving look.
“Do you?” When she asks this, it automatically makes me second-guess myself.
“You are not the same with Chris as you are with Collin and Cal. I’ve seen you with all three, and you adjust your behavior accordingly. You coddle Chris, you seem to be more reserved around Collin, and you explode with Cal,” she says and I’m speechless.
“They all love you, Lauren. You have so much more power than you think.” She looks me directly in the eye, and I have to chuckle at this.
“I don’t feel powerful.” I put my face in my hands.
“If you tell them what you just told me and stand firm on it, what choice will they have but accept it? You think they’ll leave you if you refuse?” Helen grins. No, but it’s a lot easier said than done.
“I did have a question for you, Lauren.” I look at her in surprise. She has a question for me? How nice.
“When Collin was here… or Chris for the matter—do either of them ever talk in their sleep?”
“Uhm… no not that I remember, but they usually get up before me.” I wonder what would make her ask a question like that.
“They’ve never woken you up having a nightmare?”
“Not that I recall. Why is it important?”
“I was just curious,” she says simply, and I roll my eyes as if anything about any of this is simple.
“I’m going to bring Chris back in here, and I’m going to ask him to express how he feels. I want you to stand firm on how you feel, regardless of what you think his reaction is going to be.” Her voice is warm and calm, but it doesn’t calm the tornado of emotions that are swirling inside of me. I can do this. I can tell Chris that I love him—all of him—and that I don’t see why I can’t sleep with every version of him. I have a feeling that this isn’t going to go well.
“Jennifer, please let Mr. Scott know he can come in now.”
“Right away,” the receptionist replies.
The muscles in my stomach tighten. Chris walks in and his expression is blank. His eyes look like deep pools of sadness, and I feel terrible that I have caused it. Helen doesn’t get it—she makes it seem so simple—that I can be this dictator and that their feelings don’t matter. I care about every part of this man. I don’t want any of them hurt, to be upset with me. I just want peace. I just want my husband to love me and for me to be able to love him back. He sits down stiffly, so different from when we first came in as a team, and I’m terrified we’ll leave as opponents. I can only blame myself. I should have talked to him about this myself, and regret that Helen brought it up at our first session together.
“Thank you for allowing Lauren to speak to me alone.” Helen smiles at him and her eyes study him. His body is rigid, and I wish I could read his mind. I wonder what he must think of me—probably that I’m a disloyal slut, a horny little housewife who gets off on sleeping with three different men when it’s not like that at all. No, I can’t believe that. Chris would never think anything like that. If anything I’ve really hurt him, and maybe even worse, have broken his heart.
He’s the same person. He’s the same person. I have to keep repeating this to myself as I let out a deep breath and beg my heartbeat to slow down and my voice to not shake when I speak. I shift toward him, but he doesn’t even look at me. My heart sinks and I wish that we had done this last night—when it was him and me in my office. With the romantic, soft lighting, and the ease with which he held me and I rested on him, it would have been such a different scenario. Instead, we’re on opposite sides of Helen’s couch with an audience.
“Chris,” I speak more softly than I intend to but am hoping I can penetrate the hard wall he’s put up between us. He throws me a sideways glance, his arms across his chest, his lips pressed together in a hard line. He is pissed, and I can’t help but feel more anxious and nervous than I have ever felt before.
“I love you,” I tell him honestly and with my whole heart, and his head makes the slightest turn toward me. “I have never stopped loving you,” I continue, my eyes glance toward Helen and I feel my nerves climb across my back. This is such a strange situation doing this in front of Helen who is observing everything.
“I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you, but you have to understand that I want to love every part of you,” I plead with him, but I can see that I’ve lost him from the grunt he lets out. I rub my shoulders feeling a mountain of stress starting to make camp on them.
“Chris, can you look at me please?” I can hear the desperation in my voice. “I don’t want to cause any of you pain, I don’t want to hurt you—any part of you,” I plead with him. He finally turns and looks at me.
“Wouldn’t it be a disaster if I only loved one of you? What if it was just you? What if I just loved Cal? Or Collin?" I ask him, and I hear him let out a low breath.
“This would never work if I only loved one part of you. It would kill me to share you with someone else, and if I shut out any part of you, it could happen. I’m so afraid of that happening,” I plead with him. He looks me in the eyes, and I can see him relenting. It’s not much, but it’s something and I’ll take it.
“You mean with you when you’re not conscious,” Helen interjects.
“I guess,” he says, and relief floods through me. He’s only one part of the three-sided puzzle, but such a big one. Collin seemed indifferent and Cal…. I doubt things will go this smooth with him but right now Chris is here, and he doesn’t hate me.
The rest of the session goes by without any more turmoil and doesn’t really involve me at all. Chris talks about feeling disconnected from Collin and Chris, and how he doesn’t feel as if he can relate to them at all. It doesn’t surprise me and shouldn’t come as a surprise to Helen either. She reiterates that they are all one and for him to remain open-minded toward both of them, and his homework is to write a letter to each of them. Chris looks at her as if she’s insane when she suggests this but I’m intrigued. I wish she’d ask him to let me read them, but she doesn’t mention that of course. She asks him what relaxes him and he tells her playing music and suggests that he does it for at least an hour a day regardless of what’s going on—that it’s important for him to make time to relax and de-stress to gather his thoughts.
“Listen for them,” she says and I can see he’s exasperated but trying to remain open-minded. I squeeze his hand, all that I can do to offer my support. “Will I see you two tomorrow?”
He confirms and opens the door for me to go out, and we head to the elevator both quiet and in our own thoughts.
“So, what did you think?”
“I’m glad you were there with me,” he tells me and I smile thankfully. Given how the session began, I assumed he’d regret having me come.
“I’m glad I was there too.”
“What did you think of her as a doctor?” he asks.
I shrug. “I don’t know. I think she’s knowledgeable—I’ll give her that. How did you feel?”
“I guess I’ll know more when I start to make progress,” he says as the door opens. He waits for me to go out first. As we walk outside of the building, I turn to him to look at him, and the sun is reflecting off his eyes. The sight of them still steals my breath away.
“I think that we should alternate sessions. I’ll go with you to every other one,” I tell him and he frowns at me.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I can still make sure everything’s on the up and up, but you can have your own space to vent about things that are private.” I know that Chris trusts me, and he needs to see that I trust him too.
The first thing I notice when I step inside the house are amazing smells that have never come out of my kitchen before. I have gotten a little better at cooking —I can make hamburgers, baked chicken, fish and follow most simple recipes without creating a disaster—but not many things smell as good as Mrs. Scott’s cooking. Caylen is sleeping on the couch, and I kiss her cheek before heading to the kitchen where Mrs. Scott is tasting from a large pot.
“Did I tell you how happy I am that you’re here,” I remind her and she smiles widely at me. “Here taste this,” she says, and my mouth waters as she puts string beans on a plate for me to taste. I grab a fork and pop them in my mouth.
“Oh my gosh,” I am salivating for more as I finish my little taste. “I’ve never had string beans that taste like this.”
She grins, “I used smoked turkey and my secret recipe that I’ll write down for you.”
“They don’t even taste like vegetables,” I say in shock. She places the top back on the pot. “I also made pot roast and potatoes.” I’ve never been more excited for food before I met this woman.
“Where’s Chris?” she asks joining me at the table.
“He’s actually meeting with Dexter. He’s finding out about his financials and plans to get more information on… his job,” I tell her. She looks at me wide-eyed.
“Wow, I didn’t think of all the little things he’d need to do to merge his lives together. How did his session go?” she asks curiously.
“It went well—a little shaky at first—but we’re really counting on Helen to be professional and honest with us.”
“I know you probably can’t go into much detail but… did he mention me and his father?” Her warm expression suddenly becomes a bit gloomy from the nervousness that she is likely feeling.
“We didn’t really focus on his family in this session. It was more of coping techniques and him finding commonalities with Collin and Cal. He said he’s glad you’re here,” I tell her taking her hand and squeezing it, and this time her smile is genuine though there’s still worry etched on her face. “Has he spoken to Aidan by any chance?”
“No not that I know of,” I tell her honestly.
“And… Lisa hasn’t reached out?” That question catches me completely off guard. It’s a name that sucks the life out of the room. Thinking of her is bittersweet. I had grown really close to her before everything happened. She always supported me when Chris was confused about me and was still with Jenna. I hate how things were before me, and she still crosses my mind every so often. But what she did with Mr. Scott was terrible, and no one hates it more than Mrs. Scott.
“No, I haven’t heard from her since… since before everything happened.”
“Well, a lot has happened since then,” she sighs. My pulse starts to climb, and I let out a deep breath and prepare myself for what she’s about to say. I pray that what she says next is something good despite my intuition screaming otherwise.
“Well, Lisa came to our house last month and she dropped off her daughter to us,” she says tightly. My eyes widen in shock.
“Dropped her off as in—she has been visiting you and Mr. Scott?” I ask confused.
“No as in she signed over custody to William and me,” she pushes out her words quickly and my mouth drops open in surprise.
“W-what?”
“She signed over custody, dropped her off with a suitcase and a duffle bag, and a letter saying that she was sorry. She asked me to love her daughter.” Mrs. Scott voice breaks, and I’m not sure what to do. Do I tell her I’m sorry or congratulate her because her eyes are smiling but she’s on the verge of crying?
“Wow. I don’t know what to say. How are you handling things?”
She smiles tightly. “You know after I found out about her, when Chris first told me, all I could imagine was the betrayal and how the child I imagined was a symbol of that.” She takes a deep breath then her eyes smile.
“But when I saw her, she was just a little girl. She wasn’t the monster I had made her to be in my mind. She was this beautiful little thing with William’s eyes, who was coloring and eating the cookies I baked that morning.”
Though she has a tight smile, her eyes glisten and tears fall down her cheek. I grab a paper towel and hand it to her. I try to keep my face blank, but I can’t help fighting my own tears. I cannot imagine the situation Mrs. Scott has found herself in, how she’s managed to pull something good from it, and my heart breaks for the little girl caught in the middle.
“The letter that Lisa wrote me made me see her as a broken girl who made bad decisions not as this conniving femme fatale.” I can feel the weight of her conflict—sadness vs. the fear of happiness—the same things I’ve battled.
“You’re going to stay with Mr. Scott?” I guess giving her a warm smile.
“I don’t know. I’m still dealing with things, but I don’t hate him more than I love him. After everything that has happened, I was sure it would be the opposite.”
“No one can judge you for the decision that you make, Mrs. Scott.” I assure her but she covers her face with her hands.
“I’m worried about how Chris will deal with this,” she whispers quietly as if he’ll walk in at any moment. My thoughts drift to the night when Chris and Mr. Scott had their big fight, h
ow he said he’d never forgive him. We haven’t talked about what’s happened with his parents since he’s been back. I know secrets and omissions have never been a good thing for him but thinking of how he will react when Mrs. Scott tells him that not only is she leaning toward staying with Mr. Scott but that they’ve taken in his love child, a nervous feeling runs through me. I swallow hard and try to choose my words carefully. This situation is so sensitive and the wrong word could put an ugly scar on the entire situation.
“Did Mr. Scott talk to you about the last time he saw Chris?” I ask carefully and she nods ever so slightly.
“He told me that Chris hates him—and from the brief conversation I had with Chris this morning—I’m not sure if anything has changed. Though he hasn’t had much time to change his mind.” Technically Chris has only had a few days to process all of what’s happened.
“I think the best thing is to just take things slow,” I tell her, not thinking of anything else that we could do.
“I haven’t made my decision yet,” she adds, and I let out a sigh of relief.
“Right.” If she hasn’t made her decision yet about staying with Mr. Scott then this isn’t something that is urgent for us to tell Chris—at least not right at this moment.
I ignore the little voice that is telling me that I’m lying again as my worry grows of how this will all affect Caylen if this doesn’t come together soon.
Chapter Nine
Chris
Walking into Crestfield Corporation is surreal—seven floors at the top of one of the tallest buildings in Chicago, people in suits and expensive looking clothing all bustle about, women in heels that look like they should be on the cover of magazines instead of in offices. Glass windows overlooking the waterfront. It’s unlike anything I’ve seen in Madison.
“Mr. Scott, you’re here to see Mr. Crestfield?” a short, cute, blond-haired woman asks me with a bright smile.