by Portia Moore
“He can destroy us,” he snarls, before pushing me away. My mouth falls open in shock and confusion. This has to be the medication! Onlookers are watching us confused, and with worried and perplexed expressions, unsure if they should intervene.
“Who are you talking about Collin? What is wrong with you?” I beg him. He looks at me frustrated and as if I’m an annoyance.
He walks over to my piece and attempts to pull it down.
“Collin, stop it!” I try to grab his shoulder, but he shoves me away so hard I stumble in my heels.
“Hey, why don’t you calm down,” one of the onlookers says. He’s about Collin’s height and build and I’m afraid of how this will end with the state Collin is in.
“This doesn’t pertain to you,” Collin growls continuing his attempt to rip the canvas off the wall. The onlooker looks over at me in pity.
“Just leave him alone please,” I tell him. Another guy shakes his head in disbelief or anger and approaches him.
“Hey buddy, calm down.” He grabs his shoulder, and I watch as Collin’s fist flies into the guy’s face so hard he keels over.
“Collin!” I scream. But he doesn’t even glance my way. He’s thrown the guy into the painting and is now on top of him punching him in the face.
“Oh my God, Collin stop!” I scream. I try to pull him off of him but he shoves me so hard I hit the floor.
“Hey!” I sit up to see two men—one being Ian—pulling Collin off of the poor guy. A few women help me up. Collin struggles in their arms and manages to tear his arm from the one guy and elbows Ian in the face.
“Fuck!” Ian yells covering his eye. The other guy grabs Collin, and Ian snatches off his jacket and squares up his shoulders as if he’s a professional fighter.
“Come on, asshole!” He taunts Collin, then charges at him like a raging bull. Collin attempts to grab Ian by the waist to throw him, but Ian lands several punches in his stomach. Tears are falling from my eyes. I take off my shoes and run to get help when I see Aidan tearing through the crowd.
I’m so glad to see him I can faint. He rushes to the fight but grabs Ian assuming incorrectly that he’s the initiator.
“It’s Collin. Stop Collin, Aidan!” I shout. Aidan looks up a split second confused, and Ian hits him in the jaw while Collin tries to hit both of them. Security has rushed upstairs and is grabbing everyone associated with the fight.
“What the hell is going on?!” Hillary screams, her eyes wide. Less than a moment later, everyone is beside me asking me what’s happened—the Scotts, Dexter and Helen, Raven and Angela—but I can’t answer. I’m shaking as I look over at Collin being restrained, his eyes vacant, and it makes my insides go cold and tears trail down my face. I look at the piece I worked so hard on—something that to other people would seem strange or extraordinary—was precious and beautiful to me. My painting was similar to a diary entry of the past three years of my life. Now gone, destroyed, and trampled on. My opening night should have been amazing, but life just doesn’t seem to want that for me.
Chapter Fourteen
Chris
My head is throbbing, my stomach, face, and hands hurt. I sit up and look around. I’m in a hospital room. I have an IV in my arm, and you’ve got to be kidding me. I’m handcuffed to the bed?
What did I do? Dread starts to creep all over me. Of course like always I wake up in the middle of a mess that I didn’t have anything to do with.
What am I doing here? What happened? I think about the last thing I remember. I was talking to Cal and we agreed to share. Of course this has something to do with him. I was stupid enough to trust him. I deserve this.
“Hi.” I turn to see my mom sitting in the room, a grim expression on her face.
“Mom. What’s going on? What happened?” I ask her. She looks down on her lap before glancing up at me, and it tells me almost everything I need to know. Whatever’s happened I messed up bad.
“Chris?” she asks holding back the hopeful tone in her voice.
“Yeah, it’s me, Mom.” She lets out a relieved sigh, but then the worried expression returns to her face. My head still feels woozy.
“Am I on drugs?”
“A sedative. It was hard to take you down,” she says quietly. I look at her bewildered. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
I tell her what I remember and she nods.
“Well, it’s been a few days and there was a big incident at Lauren’s gallery opening.” My heart and stomach feel like it’s been thrown off a cliff.
“Oh no. How bad is it?” I ask afraid to hear her answer.
She explains that Collin showed up and destroyed a portrait Lauren created, picked a fight with three people, and pretty much ruined her gallery opening. I feel like I’m about to throw up.
“The people you assaulted aren’t pressing charges…” she trails off conjuring up a small smile. It’s one bright spot in the story but the fallout goes so much beyond that. I can read it on her face.
“But you’re on video—a few people recorded the fight…” she continues and I throw my head back in disbelief. “You pushed Lauren, Chris… grabbed and shoved her.” She tries to keep her voice as calm as possible, but my hands are already shaking.
“I did what?!” I ask in shock. She can’t have just said what I think she said. Her lips press together tightly.
“The doctor ran some blood test, and you took some type of medication that could have caused the erratic behavior. They’ve flushed it out of your system."
“Which one of them was it?” My anger is fuming, and my fists are balled up.
“Christopher,” my mom says her voice quiet and still. “You’re my son… and I love you so much. The moment I laid eyes on you when you were five years old you were the second man who stole my heart.” Her smile makes me smile, but the solemnity in her tone scares me. “I think it’s time that you come to terms with your actions being your own.”
“Lauren must… she must hate me.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t hate you but she’s devastated, Chris.” My mom says simply, and the tone of her voice sends a chill down my spine.
“She has been through so much, son.” She is quiet but intense, her tone and the look in her eyes makes my chest tighten. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to be her and to love how she does. It’s so pure and unselfish,” she smiles. “She’s what I prayed for when I asked God to send you a wife. But everyone has their limits, Christopher.”
Her tone is ominous.
“I-is she going to leave me?” I ask her, feeling the burning sensation in my throat. She should... she should pack up and disappear—no one would blame her.
“I can’t say for sure. If anyone knows the crazy thing love makes you do, it’s me. But I will say that she is hurting. I think she has been for a long time and it’s not because she can’t accept or handle your condition, but that you have refused to.”
My eyes widen and I start to defend myself.
“You have all made it a competition—no, a battle for her to love you!” she stresses. “She is not unbreakable. A woman’s heart is so fragile. You… Collin… Cal… you have not been gentle with her heart. I don’t know how any of this works.” She shrugs slightly and wipes a tear from her eyes, coming to stand at the side of my bed.
“But whatever it is that you need to do to get well or better—you need to do it. I’ll always love you regardless of what you do. It’s sort of a requirement as a mother.” She smiles, and it’s the genuine, warm smile that used to make me feel better when I was little.
“But as a wife you have a choice, and Lauren always has chosen you. But she is not alone anymore—she has a daughter—your beautiful little girl and if it comes down to where she has to make a choice between the two of you… you won’t win.” She kisses my forehead and gives me a long hug.
“Your father and Aidan are outside waiting for you… would you like to talk to them?” My dad? What is he even doing here?
“I�
��ll talk to Aidan.”
She nods and a few moments after she slips out of the door Aidan comes in, hands in his pockets and a circle around his eye.
“What happened to you?” I ask seeing his face swollen. He looks like how I feel.
“You did!” he says seriously as he sits down and stretches his legs out.
“Of course.” I let out a sigh.
“I was hoping when you woke up it was the other guy, so I could punch his lights out and bring you back,” he kids… or at least I think he’s kidding.
“Tell me—was it bad?” I ask knowing Aidan won’t sugarcoat things. He whistles and shakes his head before pulling out his phone.
“Better you see it,” he says hesitantly, and after a few seconds I hear my voice and he turns the phone toward me.
“What the hell?” I ask watching the entire disaster happen.
“You were on something—you or whoever it was—wasn’t even themself.” I look at the number of views on the video. It’s at over thirty thousand, and it was only posted seven hours ago.
When I see myself push Lauren down, my heart breaks in half. I must look like I’m going to vomit because Aidan grabs the wastebasket and offers it to me. I knock it away angrily. I want to bang my head against the metal railing. I can’t even watch anymore. Nothing I’ve done could be worse than that.
“Turn it off,” I mutter.
“Wait, you don’t want to see the part where I came to the rescue thinking some asshole was ruining Lauren’s opening and the asshole turned out to be you?” he asks jokingly. I look at him blankly.
“Maybe later.” He pushes the phone back in his pocket.
“I don’t know what to do. The way my mom looked at me, I’m afraid to see how Lauren’s going to look at me. What if I’ve lost her? I’ll never forgive myself.” I cover my face with my hands.
“You realize the irony in that statement?” Aidan chuckles.
I hurt her. Not only figuratively but literally. I put my hands on her. I embarrassed her and because of what? I don’t know what made Collin take those drugs, or how it got to this point but I know it has something to do with us wanting to be in control, thinking about ourselves and not our wife or daughter. We’ve been so selfish thinking about our needs, who she loves, and who wins that we didn’t stop to think that we could all lose her. I’m disgusted—I don’t even want to look at myself.
“I need to talk to my dad.” Aidan’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
“You sure? You’re not going to hit him are you? Because I’d be more than happy to do that for you.”
“No, I’m not going to hit him. And if you don’t want to be handcuffed next door to me you probably shouldn’t either.” I tell him. He lets out a half-chuckle and moves toward the door. “Hey, Aidan, thanks for fighting for me.” He grins and waves me off.
“I’ve fought for worse causes.”
Faster than I thought possible my dad walks through the door. It’s eerie looking at him. I imagined he’d look different, more sinister, like an evil cartoon villain but he doesn’t. He looks like my dad, except his face shows his concern, his worry, and his apprehension. Even though he flew into this room, he looks hesitantly over at the chair, almost afraid to sit in it. That I might I change my mind about him being in here if he does. Maybe I will.
“You can go ahead.” I gesture toward the seat. He looks at me closely before sitting down.
“I didn’t know if you’d want to see me,” he says clearing his throat.
“I don’t know if I do,” I admit, and his face drops. “But I feel like I should.” I let out a long breath. We stare at each other, his face full of guilt, sadness, disappointment, regret and shame. I recognize it more easily now because I’m some version of the same.
“I know my words mean nothing right now, and that you have much bigger issues, but know that there’s not a day I don’t regret what my decision did to us. I miss you, and pray to God that things can be better. I want you to know your little sister, even if you never talk to me again. Your mom’s fallen in love with her and I hope you can too…”
My mouth falls open. “What?” I ask him confused. He hesitates a bit. “Mom has what? How… what are you even talking about?” My voice grows sharper as my sentence continues. He swallows hard.
“Lisa.” I cringe as soon as he speaks her name. “She dropped your sister off and left town. Willa's been living with us for the past two months,” he mumbles. I laugh, and cover my face. I can’t believe this.
“Look I can’t even begin to deal with that right now,” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I don’t need your apology or explanations. I just need you to be my dad—to be the dad you were before all of this happened.”
His nod is slow as if he understands what I mean. He rests his hands on his lap and I tell him everything that’s happened—all that I can remember, my deal with Cal, and how terrified I am of Lauren leaving me. There’s silence between us when I finish, and he looks at his lap before our eyes meet.
“Do whatever is necessary to keep her son.”
Lauren
“Hey Hun,” I look up to see Raven peering through the door. I’m not sure how long I’ve been awake. I’ve spent an entire day in this room. I haven’t moved from this spot since the night of the unraveling—which is what I’ve named it—an event that changed everything has to have a name. I somehow believed if I stayed in here and didn’t leave, if I didn’t speak a word of what happened—it just wouldn’t be real. I needed it to be a bad dream—something I could explain away because to admit to myself that my husband did what he did that night—makes it all so real and heartbreaking. Not only did he attack several people, and ruin my opening, he destroyed something precious to me.
The worst part of it all, is that he made me afraid of him. Regardless if it was Collin, Chris or Cal, I’m so horrified that I can’t move past it.
“I’ve got you coffee, toast, and two boiled eggs.” She’s treating me with kid gloves reminding me of how disastrous of a situation I’m in. For Raven to not act like her normal take charge, stern expression, I-told-you-so self lets me know this is beyond bad.
“Thank you,” my voice sounds like sandpaper. She sits on the edge of the bed and slides the tray across to me. I pick up the mug and realize my hands are shaking and I sit it back down, and squeeze my eyes shut from the tears threatening to make an appearance.
She doesn’t say anything but scoots the tray aside, slides next to me and offers me her open arms. I fall into them and bite my lip, but it’s quivering so much it doesn’t help and soon I’ve let go, sobs escaping my mouth faster than the tears falling from my eyes.
“Honey, it’s all going to be okay,” she says while stroking my back.
I can’t speak, not even if I tried, so I focus on breathing. My tears seem bottomless, not stopping as the minutes pass, and I feel sorry for Raven who’s here cleaning up the mess that I chose to be in. I can’t believe I’m back in this place—the same place I was in two years ago—except he hasn’t left this time and instead something in me is gone. My belief that he’s my protector—that regardless of the fighting, the blame, the constant personality changes—that he’d never hurt me, that I’d never be in danger is gone. It was always my defense when I’d get looks from the people who loved me who thought I was insane to put myself through this for love. It was my trump card that he loved me and regardless of what happened, he would never hurt me. It’s now all gone.
“Honey,” she says quietly. “I talked to his mom earlier today.” My entire body freezes. “She said he had some form of medication in his system. That it caused him to act out like that,” she explains. I’m embarrassed to tell her I already know about the medication after my conversation with Dexter. I should have been more prepared but I wasn’t. I didn’t think his behavior would be that altered, that he would be so manic and wild.
“Who did he wake up as?” I laugh bitterly, moving myself from her arms.
“Christoph
er.”
“And let me guess… he had no idea what happened?” I grab a Kleenex off of my nightstand and dry my face. She gives me a sad smile and it’s all the answer that I need.
“Is Caylen okay?” I force a sip of coffee down my throat.
“She’s wonderful. I’ve bathed her, given her breakfast, and Angela’s taken her to the park. Hillary is handling things at the gallery for you today. She took care of the clean up and dealing with the press.” My heart flinches. Oh my God, the gallery! I look at the clock, and it’s one o’clock. Right, I have a business, probably a failing one after last night’s disaster. “She asked me to have you call her when you were up.” I know that I should be grateful that she’s stepped up so much, but I can’t help a small part of me from being angry with her for not listening to me—for taking it upon herself to show my piece. But I can’t totally blame her because yesterday was eventually going to happen if that piece was up or not.
“Uhm…are you going to the hospital to see him?”
“No, I’m not,” I say quietly, and as calmly as my still weak voice will allow. Her eyes widen in surprise. And truthfully, I am surprised too even though I said the words out loud. “I’m going to spend today with Caylen and tonight start work on whatever Hillary wasn’t able to pull together. I’m going to shower now because I really need it.” I go into the bathroom, my mind teetering between anger, pain, hurt and confusion. It’s a broken down seesaw, just one out of order attraction in the broken down theme park that seems to be my life.
I shower with the hottest water I can stand, and then switch to cold to numb the pain I’m in. I go to my closet and throw out random pieces to make an outfit, then I double back picking out the best pieces I own that won’t look too odd to wear on a mommy and daughter date. I settle on a black sweater and dark denim jeans. I even do my makeup. I make an attempt to look fine, but the colors make me look as if I’m going to a funeral. Maybe I am because my heart feels as if it’s dying.