The Ex Files

by Victoria Christopher Murray

  “Aren’t you mad at me?”

  Sheridan shook her head to say, “No,” and at the same time to rid her mind of the images that refused to leave.

  Tori said, “You acted like it.”

  “I’m not mad,” she said. “But I was upset with what I saw. You and Lara…” She paused. “I’m not fine with what was going on here.”

  “Mom, we weren’t doing anything,” Tori said, her hands cutting through the air for emphasis. “We were just curious.”

  Sheridan inhaled. Isn’t that where it all began? Surely Quentin had been curious. She’d never been curious. What did that make Tori?

  “So,” Tori continued, “we just kissed to see what kissing was like.”

  Sheridan nodded, and wondered if she could make herself believe that. “Do you know why I was upset?”

  Tori shrugged. “Because of Daddy. Now you think I’m gay.”

  Her thirteen-year-old daughter. Too much. Too fast.

  “You’re not gay.” It was a command. As if she could demand it and it would be so. “You’re thirteen. I would have felt the same way if I’d found you kissing a boy.”

  Tori scooted closer. “But, Mom, I thought it was better if I tried it first with a girl. I didn’t think you’d be mad if it was just Lara.”

  Sheridan stared at her daughter. Wondered if this was the complete truth. Wondered if Tori even knew what the truth was.

  “I had thought about kissing Benjamin Harrington. But I didn’t think you’d like that because he’s white.”

  Sheridan had to hold her stomach to stop the rumbling that had started again. “You don’t need to be kissing anyone.”

  “Kids my age are doing that and a whole lot more.”

  Sheridan shook her head. Too much. Too fast. “What other kids are doing doesn’t matter to me. I only care about you.”

  “I know.”

  “And I don’t want you kissing anyone.”

  Tori shrugged. “Okay, so when can I start kissing?”

  “I don’t know if there’s an age on this.”

  “How old were you when you first kissed?”

  Thirty-five was what she wanted to say, but her growing-older-too-much-too-fast daughter would never have believed that. “The first time I kissed a boy”—she paused, hated that she had to clarify that—“I was sixteen.”

  “Then, Mom, why do you have a problem with me?”

  Sheridan frowned. “I just told you. You’re too young.”

  “But thirteen is the new sixteen.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “I heard you tell Nana that forty was the new thirty. So I figured if you old guys could get younger, we young kids could get older. So, thirteen is the new sixteen.” She nodded and, with a smile, crossed her arms as if she’d just completed a winning closing argument.

  Sheridan tried to hold back her grin. “In this house, thirteen is thirteen. And thirteen-year-old girls have rules. And one of those rules is no kissing”—she paused, still not believing that she had to add this part—“anyone. Now, when you’re sixteen, we’ll discuss this again.”

  “Okay,” she whined. “I’ll try.” When Sheridan raised an eyebrow, Tori hugged her mother. “Okay.” This time she spoke with more conviction. When she pulled from the embrace, she asked, “Mom, can I call Lara and see if her mom will bring her back over here?”

  I don’t want Tori anywhere near Lara.

  “Why don’t you and I hang out tonight? We’ll order a pizza; Lara can come over another time.”

  Tori agreed. “And don’t worry, Mom. When I see Lara in school on Thursday, I’ll tell her about your rules. It won’t matter anyway. It’s not like we were going to make a habit of kissing or anything. It was no big deal.”

  Your daughter. Your husband. Obvious.

  Sheridan closed her eyes, and prayed that Irma came to believe what she so desperately wanted to believe—that, like Tori said, the kiss had been no big deal.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  KENDALL

  Kendall folded the blanket and then tucked it and the pillow into the closet. The Woman’s Place was becoming her residence and it made her sick. But it was better than the alternative. This couch was much better than her king-sized bed in her beachfront home.

  Even though she slept in a new bed (she’d destroyed with a knife and scissors the one that had been stained by her sister), the bedroom still carried Sabrina’s scent. No amount of perfumed candles or Lysol could cover the memory that her sister had been there. But somehow, she had to find a way to return to her life in her home.

  She glanced around her office, then sat behind her desk a moment before the knock on her door. She glanced at the clock. Nine o’clock exactly. This time she was ready.

  “Come in, Pastor.”

  Pastor Ford chuckled as she entered. “How did you know it was me?”

  “You said nine o’clock.” They hugged. “You’re always on time.” Kendall sat in one of the chairs in front of her desk and motioned for Pastor Ford to take the other. “So you wanted to discuss the women’s retreat?”

  The pastor nodded. “This year I want to make it different. Of course we’ll have the usual workshops, but I want to give the women a real escape experience. I want to have spa treatments available; that’s where you come in.”

  The quick knock on the door stopped Kendall’s response and both she and the pastor turned as Edwin barged inside.

  “Kendall…” Edwin paused, glanced at Pastor Ford. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were with—”

  “That’s okay, Mr. Leigh. How are you?” Pastor Ford held out her hand.

  “Not so good, Pastor Ford,” he said, taking her hand.

  “Daddy”—Kendall moved toward her father—“what’s wrong?” He looked as if pain was sucking life from him.

  “Your sister’s not good.”

  “What’s wrong with Sabrina?” Pastor Ford’s glance bounced between Kendall and Edwin.

  “Kendall hasn’t told you?”

  Kendall crossed her arms as Edwin spoke to the pastor, although his eyes stayed on his daughter. “Sabrina’s in the hospital; she’s been there since Thursday because her fever won’t break. And this morning, they gave us the diagnosis.” His voice cracked with that last word. Made Kendall sink into her seat. She clasped her hands together to stop their trembling.

  “We thought it was just an infection, but…” He stopped, not able to finish.

  Pastor Ford took Edwin’s hand and helped him ease into the chair where she’d been sitting.

  “Sabrina”—he looked at Kendall—“has…acute leukemia.”

  Both the pastor and Kendall gasped. Leukemia. She didn’t know a lot about the disease—only knew how serious it could be.

  “Edwin,” Pastor Ford began in a soft voice, “what have the doctors said?”

  “She…she needs a transplant. Bone marrow.”

  Kendall’s heart stabbed her chest again. As her father explained Sabrina’s condition, acute leukemia that was rapidly progressing, Kendall studied him. Just two weeks had passed since she’d last seen him. But his hair was grayer, the creases in his face were deeper, and his eyes were swollen with sadness.

  “There’re not a lot of options,” Edwin concluded.

  “So what happens now?” Pastor Ford asked.

  “Chemotherapy, that’ll start right away when they can get her fever down. But the most important part of this is the bone marrow transplant. And that’s why I’m here.” His eyes pleaded with Kendall before the words began. “The doctors say you’re her best shot. We’ve got to get you to the hospital to get tested.”

  Pastor Ford nodded. “Okay, you guys get going and keep me posted.” She reached across the desk and squeezed Kendall’s hand. “I’m praying for you.” The pastor turned to Edwin. “Did you drive over?”

  Edwin nodded.

  “Will you two be okay driving?” Pastor Ford asked. “I don’t mind taking you.”

  “We’ll be fine,
” Edwin said.

  Both the pastor and Edwin moved toward the door; it took a few moments for both to realize there was no one following them.

  “Kendall,” they said her name in unison.

  The heat of their stares blazed through her, but that didn’t burn away the images.

  Anthony’s arms. The bed. Sabrina’s lips.

  She wanted so badly to press Stop on that video that replayed in her mind. But behind those pictures were the words. They’re engaged. They’re going to be married.

  “Kendall.” This time only her father called her name. “Please don’t do this.” He moved toward her. “This is about love and life and family. This is about your sister.”

  The law of the streets—you paid for betrayal with your life.

  “You have to forget what happened, baby girl. Your sister could die.”

  Kendall opened her mouth to tell her father about all the days she’d felt dead. But his face—carved with fear for her sister—stopped her.

  In the silence, tears formed in the corners of Edwin’s eyes. Without a word, his emotions were apparent: horror and disgust. Sorrow and disbelief.

  She closed her eyes before she could see his hate.

  “Kendall, please.”

  She was drowning in his distress.

  Pastor Ford rescued her. “Edwin, would you mind if I spoke to Kendall?” Gently she clutched his arm. Pulled him from his daughter. It still took moments for Edwin to turn, to stagger away.

  There was nothing but silence as the pastor and Kendall sat alone. After minutes, Kendall spoke, “Go ahead, say it, Pastor. I’ve heard it all. So I know how wrong I am.”

  “I’m not going to say anything like that, Kendall. I’m just going to listen.”

  Kendall closed her eyes and saw her father’s face. “I don’t want to feel this way.” Her voice trembled.

  “What way?” The pastor spoke so softly, Kendall barely heard her.

  “I don’t want to feel nothing. But, that’s what I feel—nothing. Nothing at all for Sabrina.” Pastor Ford knelt next to her. Kendall continued, “I don’t know what to do.”

  “You do,” Pastor Ford responded. “But you’re fighting it because you’re hurt.”

  Kendall shook her head. “It’s not just hurt, Pastor.” She took a breath. “Did you know that Sabrina and Anthony are getting married?”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “I’m pissed,” her voice rose, “I’m so angry I could scream.”

  “I can understand that.”

  “I’m so pissed, I could…kill her myself.”

  “I can understand that.” When Kendall’s eyes widened, the pastor held up her hand. “I didn’t say I agreed, just that I understand. Kendall, don’t think for one minute that what you’re feeling isn’t normal. I don’t know many women who would be able to just shove off what you’ve gone through with your husband and your sister.”

  “He’s not my husband anymore.”

  “But she’s still your sister.”

  “She didn’t think about being my sister when she was with Anthony.”

  “I don’t know if she did or didn’t; all I know is where we are now.”

  “So you think I have to do this? Even after all she did to me?”

  “I’m not going to tell you what to do.” Pastor Ford slipped her purse’s strap onto her shoulder. “You’re grown and you’re going to have to live with whatever you decide.” She moved toward the door. “But there is one thing I’ll advise; you’d better hit the floor. Get on your knees and pray. Talk to God like you never have before.”

  With a sigh, Kendall said, “I am so tired of hearing about God.”

  “Good thing He’s not tired of you.” She paused. “You need to have some serious conversations with Him. Even if you don’t feel like talking, you’d better listen because He’s talking to you.”

  Kendall rolled her eyes.

  The pastor said, “You’ve told me…you’re not feeling God right now. But know that He’s feeling you. He’s feeling every single emotion that you’re going through; He’s suffering with you. But He’s going to get you through.” She opened the door. “I’ll give you a call tonight. And I’ll be praying for you.”

  Kendall shook her head as she watched her pastor step through the door. She didn’t know why Pastor Ford planned to call her. It wasn’t like she was going to have any news. She didn’t care what happened to Sabrina. And there was no way God or anyone else could ever change her mind about that.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  VANESSA

  “Vanessa,” Mr. Wrigley began, “I’m sorry I missed you when you came in a couple of weeks ago. I hadn’t expected you back so soon.”

  “I…just wanted to pick up a few things.”

  “Well, do you have any idea when you’ll be coming back? Not that I’m rushing you.”

  “That’s why I’m calling.” She took a breath. “I thought I could handle…Mr. Wrigley, I was going to call HR, but I thought I should call you. I’m leaving Olympic Marketing. I’m sorry.”

  “Are you moving away?”

  “No, there are just a few things I have to do.”

  “Well, then, you don’t have to quit,” Mr. Wrigley said, sounding as if he were out of breath. Vanessa could imagine her boss, sitting inches from his desk because his belly stopped him from getting closer. And even though it wasn’t even ten in the morning, his just-about-bald head was probably shining with sweat. “I can understand you needing some time, Vanessa,” her boss continued. “Especially with what happened…and the way…it happened.”

  Oh, no.

  “Vanessa, can we talk?”

  Not you, too. She knew Mr. Wrigley was waiting for that one piece of news, that scoop that he could take back to the rest of the seventh floor. But she gave him nothing.

  Mr. Wrigley cleared his throat. “Like I said, you don’t have to quit, Vanessa. I’ll give you all the time you need. You’re a valuable employee and”—Vanessa tried to stop listening, but he droned on—“and you will always have the support of the Olympic team—”

  She interrupted him. “Thank you, Mr. Wrigley. I’ll call you.” She hung up without saying good-bye, still shocked by his inquiries. Even fifty-six-year-old white men found her tragedy fascinating.

  Vanessa rose from her bed and slipped into her bathrobe before she scurried down the hall to Reed’s office. Something had come to her in the middle of the night and she needed to check it out.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  SHERIDAN

  “Mom!”

  It was a bellow that Sheridan hadn’t heard from her daughter before, but one that she recognized. It was the same scream that had come in her dreams during the last few nights. Last night, Tori’s screams and Irma’s words had tormented her until dawn.

  “Mom!”

  “I’m in my office, Tori,” Sheridan yelled. She closed her eyes and prayed for comforting words.

  Tori marched into the room; her jacket hung off one shoulder and the day’s distress—tear tracks under puffy eyes—had left its mark.

  “Mom!”

  Sheridan held her arms open and Tori rushed to her. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” she asked, already knowing.

  “It was awful in school today.”

  She led Tori to the couch. “What happened?”

  “Lara’s mother won’t let her be friends with me anymore.”

  Sheridan swallowed; she’d prayed that time would have softened Irma, settled her into seeing the truth of what their daughters had done. It was just a kiss. That’s what Tori said. That’s what she chose to believe.

  “And then,” Tori continued, “Lara told everyone that I was a lesbian.” She paused, sobbed, added, “She told everybody that I was just like my father.”

  Sheridan squeezed her daughter again.

  “Mom, we just wanted to see what kissing was like and Lara wanted to kiss me, too. But no one believes me because she told everybody about Daddy.”

&n
bsp; “Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

  “Mom, I want to transfer to another school. I don’t want to ever see Lara again. Can I go to a different school? Please.”

  “I don’t think you really want to do that,” Sheridan said, rubbing away fresh tears from her daughter’s cheeks. “What about all of your other friends? Lara isn’t the only person you know.”

  “But she’s told everyone, Mom. Everybody in the whole school knows. And it’s so embarrassing. Everybody was laughing at me today. Laughing at me and Dad.”

  “Well, you know how children are. Everybody teases somebody. Hasn’t there been someone you’ve teased before?”

  “But not like this, Mom.” Her lips trembled. “I never teased anyone to hurt them.”

  When Tori leaned her head against her mother’s chest, Sheridan sighed. “I know it hurts now, sweetheart, but I promise that this will pass. Soon everyone will start talking about something else and no one will remember this little incident.”

  “Nuh-huh. No one is ever going to forget about this.”

  “You don’t believe that, do you?” Sheridan asked. “Remember when your dad moved out and you felt so bad? You thought you were going to feel like that for the rest of your life, remember?” Tori nodded. “But what happened? Every day it got a little bit better until you were back to normal, right?” Nod. “This is going to be the same way. It feels bad now, but soon everyone will forget all those silly things Lara said.”

  Tori looked up at her mother with hope. “You think so?”

  Sheridan nodded. “And I wouldn’t be surprised if Lara apologized to you.”

  “She can just keep her stupid apology because I don’t want it.”

  Sheridan stayed silent for a moment. “Okay, if that’s the way you feel. But then you have to remember one thing. If you do that to Lara, the next time you apologize to God, He might do the same thing to you.”

  Tori paused, thoughtful. “Well, maybe I won’t stay mad at her for a long time.” Sheridan smiled and Tori tried to do the same. “Okay,” Tori acquiesced. “If Lara apologizes, I’ll forgive her. It’ll be hard though.”