The Ex Files

by Victoria Christopher Murray

  “All you have to do is say it.”

  “If that were enough, you’d know. I think it’s because you want more from me—”

  He squeezed her, stopping her. “I don’t want to talk about that right now; just want to know that you love me.” He paused, and then his words sliced through the silence. “And that it’s only me.”

  She closed her eyes, squeezed away thoughts of Quentin. “It’s only you.”

  “That’s enough for me. That’s enough for now.”

  More silence, and then he said, “I have some news.” She pulled away, looked at him. “My mom has finally decided to move out here.”

  “That’s terrific,” she said, pleased that he’d accomplished his mission. He’d moved from Washington, D.C., to Los Angeles years ago to be closer to his grandmother, Big Momma, a petite woman who’d passed away just months after he and Sheridan started dating. Now, with his mother alone in D.C. (since his younger brother was attending college in Berkley), he wanted his mother closer. “What changed her mind?”

  He shrugged. “We talked about it when I was home. She knows I can’t move back there—she knows how serious I am about you.”

  “Well, I’m really glad to hear that.” She paused. “At least your big news is good news.”

  He frowned. “What happened over here?”

  “Tori.”

  His smile came back. “More teenage stuff?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know what to call this.” A breath, and then, “I came home and caught her kissing Lara.”

  “What do you mean kissing Lara?”

  “Kissing Lara. Lips locked, tongues moving…” She stopped. Remembered. Shuddered.

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Wish I was.” She repeated the story; when she told him about Irma Nelson, she added, “I just cannot believe she reacted that way.”

  “Well, Irma may have overreacted, but I’ve got to give it to her for reacting at all. More parents need to step up and do something about all of these things that the media and even now school systems are trying to tell kids are okay.”

  She tilted her head. “You think Irma was right? I mean, she wants to keep Lara away from Tori, like there’s something wrong with my daughter.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with Tori. I’m just saying that in today’s times parents need to take action to stop this mess. Kids need to be told that behavior is wrong; now, maybe Irma overreacted, but I give her props for acting like she’s the parent.”

  Sheridan slipped from his arms. “I can’t believe you’re saying this.”

  “I’m not saying she was right in exactly what she did, but she was right in doing something. She took a stand. If she thinks Tori could be influencing her daughter—”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “I’m not saying Tori is doing that. But if Irma sees Tori as the danger, at least she took some action. She’s doing what she thinks she has to do to protect her daughter.” He paused. “And maybe you should do the same.”

  “And what should I do? Keep Tori away from Quentin?”

  “Exactly.”

  Her eyes opened as wide as her mouth. “I wasn’t serious when I said that.”

  “Where do you think Tori got the idea that it was okay to be kissing another girl?”

  “Brock, she’s thirteen. They just wanted to see what it would be like to kiss.”

  “Okay, so they were experimenting. Kids do that, but they do it with the opposite sex. So, I’ll ask you again. Where did she get that idea?”

  His words were her thoughts. But aloud, they sounded archaic, judgmental, homophobic.

  “Okay, let’s say that Tori was…influenced because of Quentin’s behavior. I’ve already talked to Pastor Ford and she agrees, as long as I tell Tori that behavior is wrong, everything will be fine.”

  Brock opened his mouth, then closed it. Held up his hands. “Look, I’ve already said too much. I shouldn’t be interfering with you and Tori, so let’s end this here.”

  Inside, her emotional alarm rang loudly, but still she pressed. “No, go on. I want to know what you think.”

  He paused, then shrugged. “Okay.” Paused again, looked dead into her eyes. “You need to keep Tori away from Quentin for a while.”

  “You are serious. Your solution would be to keep Tori from her father.”

  “Yes.”

  “And ruin that relationship.”

  “Ruin?” He chuckled. “Sheridan, Quentin moved out of this house to be with a man. He put his feelings before his wife, his son, and his daughter.”

  “But, he’s found a way to work it out. We all have. We’ve moved on and everything’s okay.”

  “Okay? Well, that must be why you came home and found your daughter in the arms of another girl.”

  “You can’t blame Quentin.”

  “Then give me another explanation.”

  “I don’t know. Television, movies, you just said that yourself. Or maybe it’s just plain old teenage stuff.”

  “Like all teenagers in America are engaging in same-sex kissing.”

  “Whatever, it’s not Quentin.”

  He paused. “Why are you always taking up for that man?”

  “That’s not what I’m doing.”

  “That’s the way it sounds. Like you’re protecting him. Like he needs your protection.”

  “I’m not thinking about Quentin. I only want to do what’s best for Tori.”

  He chuckled, but the sound held no humor. “You need to stop hiding behind your daughter and face the truth.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Face your feelings, Sheridan.”

  “Don’t make this about your imagined feelings about me and Quentin. This is only about Tori.”

  “And that always leads back to Quentin.”

  “Because he’s her father.”

  “You don’t have to remind me. He’s her father, and he was your husband.”

  She stood, crossed her arms. “That’s a fact that I can’t and wouldn’t want to change.”

  He stared at her. Then he stood. “You know what, I don’t want to do this again.” He grabbed his jacket.

  “Do what? I don’t even know how we got to this point.” She stomped behind him, following him to the front door. “Why are you upset?” Her voice rose.

  “I’m upset that we can’t talk anymore without the mention of your husband’s name.”

  “We’ve talked about Quentin for three years, but all of a sudden his name creates problems for you.”

  “You’re right.” He stopped, his hand on the doorknob. “He is a problem. And that’s because I just realized how much he’s still not only in your life, but in your heart.” He softened his voice. “Quentin is the reason you won’t marry me.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “What’s so bad,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “is that I think you’re telling the truth. You don’t even realize how much you still love him.” Brock looked down, and when he returned his eyes to hers, they were as soft as his voice. “I’m not going to do this anymore, Sheridan. I love you, but—”

  She stepped closer to him. “There’s nothing for you to do except to keep doing us.”

  He shook his head. “Can’t.” His Adam’s apple grew larger as it inched up, then back down his throat. “You’re in love with your ex.” The tips of his fingers on her lips stopped her protest. “Quentin’s still in your heart; I can feel him there. And if he’s there, then there’s no room for me.” He pressed his lips against her cheek. “I love you,” he said, holding her. “But, let’s not do this anymore.” Then, with another kiss, he stepped through the door.

  He was gone before she could argue more, before she could convince him that his facts were fiction.

  Still, after minutes, she hadn’t moved. She didn’t want to walk away from the place where she’d stood just a half hour before in the arms of the man she loved. She wanted to linger in the space that
still held the fragrance of his roses—the perfume of their hope.

  Quentin is in your heart…and that means there’s no room for me.

  She shook her head, trying to get rid of his words. But even when the words were gone, his image remained. The way he’d said good-bye—with a kiss. The way he’d walked to his car—never looking back. As if there was nothing left to see.

  Finally, she peered though the window. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but she knew what she hoped. That she would see Brock’s car, and then him getting out, rushing to her front door to resolve this.

  But there was no car. There was no Brock.

  There was no hope.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  KENDALL

  The sun had just bowed from the sky when Kendall crawled into her home much earlier than usual, determined to reclaim the hours of missing sleep. The office couch that had served her well throughout the last months recently had not delivered its promise of rest. She’d prayed that tonight, her satin-sheet covered bed would rock her body to sleep.

  But like all the nights since her father had announced Sabrina’s illness, sleep had stubbornly stayed away. This was her punishment.

  It was a dim light from the nighttime sun that shone through the floor-to-ceiling balcony windows as Kendall paused at the entrance to the living room. She still remembered every painstaking hour that she and Anthony had spent with the designers choosing the right pieces not only for this space but for the six other rooms that made up their house. With love they’d built their home, the place they’d chosen to spend their forever.

  Forever added up to just four years.

  Kendall slid back the balcony door and the ocean’s music rushed inside along with its chill. Her velour robe did little to protect her against the breeze, but Kendall welcomed the cold. She needed to feel something.

  As the water’s waves slapped against the shore, she wondered what the rest of the world was like. Her friends had long ago stopped calling since she’d never returned a message. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone to a restaurant, or a movie, or even shopping. Her days were spent working hard hours in her office for a future she could no longer describe. And her nights were just as pitiful, hanging out in her office or at church with Sheridan, Vanessa, and Asia. Or worse, here at home, mostly on this deck. Always alone. Always with regrets.

  I’m afraid that you’ll spend the rest of your life with regrets.

  Those words from Anthony were the ones that kept her up tonight. Her ex was right, she was full of regrets.

  She regretted that she loved Anthony.

  She regretted that she hated Sabrina.

  That thought of her sister made her rush into the kitchen and grab the telephone. Not until after she dialed did she glance at the clock. But even though it was almost midnight, she had to make the call. When the phone rang she braced herself for what would greet her on the other end.

  “Hi, Daddy.”

  She heard him exhale relief, and it wasn’t until then that she realized a call this late probably sent his heart racing. When he said, “Baby girl,” she exhaled her own breath of gratitude.

  She said, “I left you a couple of messages. We missed our dinner last week.”

  “Sorry ’bout that.”

  “What about tomorrow? It’s Tuesday.”

  “I don’t think so, baby girl. I’ll probably be at Sabrina’s apartment. I spend as much time with her as I can.”

  “How is…well, how are you?”

  “Oh, baby girl, I’m just tired.” She could hear his weariness. “This has been too much for me.”

  “Have you eaten? I know it’s late, but Yee’s stays open till two.”

  “No, it’s too late, and I haven’t had much of an appetite.”

  “You have to eat. You have to keep your strength up for…” It made her sad; she couldn’t even say her sister’s name. Finally, she whispered, “How’s…Sabrina?”

  Even through the phone, she could feel her father’s smile. “She’s having chemo, but she needs you, baby girl, and I’ve been praying for this moment.”

  “Daddy, I just want to know how she is.”

  “I’ve been praying,” Edwin continued, “that your eyes would open.”

  “I just want to know…how’s Sabrina? That’s all.”

  Now she felt his smile go away. “Baby girl, please don’t waste any more time.”

  “Daddy, you’ve got to stop asking me.”

  “I’ll never stop asking you to do what’s right.”

  “Sabrina doesn’t need me; she’s a survivor.”

  “Then you know more than the doctors, because ‘survivor’ is not a word they’re using.”

  It was an involuntary gasp that pushed through her lips. But she gave him no more words.

  Edwin continued, “I never thought I’d see this day….”

  “You’ve already told me how disappointed you are in me.”

  “And so what do you want me to do? Find new words? Would that make you do right?”

  “I am doing the right thing. I’m doing what’s best for me.”

  “What’s best for you is for your sister to die?”

  She couldn’t respond.

  “Because that’s what will happen if she doesn’t have this transplant.” He waited for his daughter to speak. “Kendall, you go to church every Sunday. What’re you hearing when you sit in those pews? What’s going into your ears? What’s filling up your heart?”

  “There’s nothing you can say, Daddy, that will make me change my mind.”

  He paused for a moment. “Kendall, why did you call?” She’d heard his smile; now she heard his disgust.

  “To check on you.” She spoke through lips that had already begun to tremble.

  “There’s no need for you to call back.”

  She swallowed.

  He said, “When you understand family, when you can put your sister before your pride, then give me a call.”

  “Daddy, please.”

  “I’ll be waiting for you, Kendall. Sabrina and I will be waiting for you.”

  She held on to the phone long after her father hung up on her.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  VANESSA

  No matter what truth God spoke to her heart, her mind still told her lies.

  If you do it, you won’t hurt anymore.

  Vanessa kicked the covers onto the floor and wiped her eyes dry of the tears she’d shed for the last hours. Goose bumps rose on her arms when she scampered from her bed in her sleeveless nightgown down the darkened hallway.

  At Reed’s desk, she stopped her hand aimed for the computer in midair.

  She’d been able to stay away for a few days. It was because of Sheridan and the prayer she’d said at the end of the last meeting. Now she understood that she was in a war, the battle between her heart and her head. If she wanted to win, she had to stay connected to her heart, fight to keep the thoughts out of her head.

  If you do it, you won’t hurt anymore.

  She had been winning—listening to her heart, casting down her thoughts. But in the dark of the house, in the quiet of the night, in the hours well past midnight, she was alone. Alone. That was the battle that she could not win.

  With one click, the computer screen became her light. It took only minutes to navigate to the chat room; she knew how to find her friends.

  Once there, she typed in the moniker she’d been using.

  lonenla: hey guys.

  4choice: What’s up? Where’ve you been?

  lonenla: i’ve been busy, but tonight, i couldn’t sleep. i didn’t even know if any of you would be here—it’s three in the morning.

  Joynpain: Well, it’s six where I am. Couldn’t sleep? Did you take those pills like I suggested?

  lonenla: yes, but tonight, not even the pills helped.

  4choice: Why do you think that is?

  lonenla: one month ago today, my husband committed suicide.

 
4choice: He made that choice and now he’s happy.

  lonenla: but i still don’t know why he did it. don’t know why he left me.

  4choice: That part was his choice, too. He shouldn’t have to tell anyone. Just like if you decide—you shouldn’t have to explain it.

  Joynpain: Have you decided what you’re going to do?

  Vanessa paused before she typed: no.

  Joynpain: You don’t have to rush it.

  4choice: No rush, just remember it’s your choice. Your husband knew that.

  Lauralee: Hello. I’ve never been here before.

  Vanessa sat back as the others introduced themselves to Lauralee. She wondered who this woman was who, like her, had found her way to this chat room in the middle of the night. She watched the chat proceed—read 4choice’s words as he lectured Lauralee, just as he’d lectured her—that suicide is a personal choice. That there’s nothing wrong with it and she should never have any doubts if that’s what she wants to do.

  For more than an hour, Vanessa watched the discussion. Without light, her eyes began to burn. But still, Vanessa stayed in the dark.

  When Lauralee logged out, Joynpain typed:

  Lone, are u still there?

  lonenla: yeah, i was letting you guys chat.

  4choice: You could have joined in. We’re here for you.

  lonenla: thanks for saying that. i don’t feel like i have a lot of friends these days.

  Joynpain: You’ll always have us. For as long as you’re here.

  4choice: Yeah, and remember even Jesus lost His friends in the end. Those disciples scattered like girls when He needed them most.

  Vanessa’s head snapped back when she read those words. None of her friends in the chat room had ever talked about God before.

  lonenla: do you believe in God?

  Joynpain: Yes.

  Vanessa’s eyes widened, although she didn’t know why she was so surprised.

  lonenla: do you go to church?

  Joynpain: I believe in God, but not in church. Don’t like the hypocrites. But that has nothing to do with God.

  Vanessa paused, read her message a few times before she typed: