by Portia Moore
“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.”
“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.
“Christopher.”
“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 th
e 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.
“So the video seems as if it’s going viral—all it’s done is increase the popularity of this place. There is no such thing as bad publicity, remember? I’ve been fielding calls all day. You’re going to be fine, Lauren. All but three of the paintings you showcased sold, and even Ian has agreed to show with you again… on the condition that your husband isn’t in the same room with him.”
All of the things that Hillary has caught me up on should make me smile, and feel a tiny bit happy, but it doesn’t. While I’m here I just keep replaying the last time I was in the gallery. My joy, hope, and optimism seem to have been sucked away like leftover food and debris. I only had a certain allotment of smiles for use today and Caylen took each one.
“Can you send him a really expensive bottle of champagne, and maybe some really good food?” I clear my throat and take a drink from the water bottle that’s sweating in front of me.
“Already done.” She takes my hand and clasps it with hers. “I’m so sorry again, Lauren.” Her big blue eyes plead with me for forgiveness.
“It wasn’t your fault… well a very tiny miniscule part was but I’m done blaming other people for what happens with us. I always do that and I’m tired of it. I won’t look to lay blame on anyone so that it doesn’t lay on him. I won’t do it anymore.” I tell her squeezing her hand back.
“Aidan says you haven’t visited him or called,” She says hesitantly. My eyes dart from hers. “Not that I blame you,” she adds quickly. My chin goes to my chest and I let out a deep sigh and a soft shrug.
“I don’t know what to say to him. Did he mention when he’ll be coming home?” I ask quietly, both anxious and afraid to hear the answer. She shakes her head and at that moment the buzzer rings for the gallery. We look at the camera and my stomach drops when I see him standing outside—the heart I swore had died has just reminded me it’s still alive and kicking. Hillary glances at me, and I take my lip in between my teeth and begin to chew.
“Should I…?” she asks.
I nod almost immediately, and then a small part of me wonders if I should… what if he’s still… no… I swallow hard. She hits the buzzer to open the door and we both head downstairs. By the time we make it down the stairs he’s inside, standing awkwardly by the door, his shoulders cast down, hands in his pockets. When his eyes reach mine I can read them from across this room, and my heart clenches in my chest. The tension in the air is so thick you can slice it, words unspoken float through the air. He doesn’t have to speak, I know it’s Chris. He’s the only one who wears guilt around his neck like a tie and an apology written across his eyes. I let out a sigh of relief as my eyes trail over his T-shirt and jeans. If he had on a suit I just may have passed out.
“Hi,” Hillary speaks before either of us does.
“Hey Hillary.” He gives her a broken smile. She looks between us and twirls a finger around a strand of her hair.
“Uhm… Aidan’s in the car.” Chris tells her pressing his lips together.
She glances towards my direction giving me a look to ask for permission to leave and I nod letting her know it’s okay.
“Cool… I’ll go say hi.”
I cross my arms across my chest, feeling if I don’t my heart will escape and jump in his arms, and right now, my heart can’t take the lead on this. My mind has to be on high alert.
“You didn’t come to the hospital,” he says quietly. I look down guiltily and shrug away the apology fighting to escape. “Not that I blame you,” he follows up quickly. He approaches me slowly but stops about an arm's length away.
“I can’t begin to apologize for what happened here…” his voice is wobbly and filled with emotion. I take in a deep breath through my nose, and rest my gaze on the floor, because if I look at him, I may do stupid things like tell him it’s okay when it’s not, or hug him when nothing has been solved.
“You didn’t deserve that… you don’t deserve any of this,” he continues quietly. “I saw the video and… if I could take anything back it would be that…” he says, his voice weak. I feel tears starting to settle in my eyes.
“Collin took…” He lets out a long breath through his nose. “I… I took pills—too many and the side effects—well you saw it,” he explains. I slowly bring my eyes to his face.
“I’ve been hoping that this would all work out, that I could solve it all on my own. But yesterday showed me that what I’m doing isn’t working, it’s not enough and when I saw what I did to you—” He clenches his jaw. “After the thing that happened with Cal and Clayton, I should have known then that this was something bigger than I could handle.” He clears his throat, and my heart starts to feel as if it’s going to break.
“But seeing me do that to those people… to you…” He shakes his head and I see his eyes tear up. I let the ice in my demeanor break a little and cross the imaginary line between us to take his hand.
“You weren’t yourself,” I tell him, and his brows furrow together. “We’ll get through this.” I take his other hand in mine, and his big hands wrap around mine.
“See that’s the thing. I can’t do this to you anymore.”
Every muscle in my body tightens, and he must sense it as he squeezes my hands tighter. This feels eerily similar to so many years ago, when I met Cal that faithful day in our home, when everything was supposed to be fine but it changed in an instant, but I push those thoughts away.
“You’ll see Helen more often… we’ll make sure that you won’t take any more pills, we’ll do counseling, as much as it takes, as long as it takes, you can go on a leave of absence at work. We can even go back to Michigan with your parents….” My words come out a mile a minute, and when he presses his lips together and takes my face in his hands, I lose my breath. I see his answer in his eyes long before the words reach his lips.
“No.” His word is short but the most painful thing I’ve ever heard—it’s like a knife in my heart. His eyes lock with mine, and his face blurs from the tears accumulating.
“No?” I ask him, my voice breaking, my body beginning to tremble. He shakes his head slightly. “What are you saying?” I ask him pulling away. “You’re not doing this to me again. You can’t, Chris. You won’t hurt me like that, I know you won’t.” I know it’s not playing fair right now, pitting him against Cal, but I can’t afford to play fair. I can’t lose him. I won’t. I’ll do whatever it takes to get him to change the direction this is going in. He tears his eyes away from me, and when he looks up, I see a single tear fall down his cheek.
My heart crumbles, and I’m starting to feel numb all over. “Please…please don’t do this.”
“Lauren…” he says and turns away from me, and I can see he’s wavering. I latch on to him.
“No you can’t.” I’m begging pathetically, desperately, tears suffocating my words. The moment before he walked in I wasn’t sure if I could move past what happened. I couldn’t see a way, but now I realize through my anger and anxiety, there is no other way to move forward without him. I can’t see it or imagine my future any other way.
His body turns stiff and when he turns around and clasps my face in his and makes me look in his eyes, I see its Cal. I take gulps of air as if I’m drowning. I am drowning.
“Cal no! No! You can’t do this to me!” My voice is sharp yet weak, infested with burning tears.
“We have to do this, babe. It’s for you. For you and Caylen,” he says, his eyes melancholy, his tone hard and expression determined. I go weak, my body limp and he must know because he catches me before I fall to the ground and pulls me up in his arms.
“Not again, not again Cal. I-I can�
�t lose you again. No, I won’t. If you love me you won’t leave.” I’m crying so hard now, and I can feel his heartbeat as I cry into his chest.
“It’s because I love you….I’ll be back. I promise,” he whispers in my ear. I ball his shirt into my hands and try to catch my breath.
“How long?” I ask through a whimper.
“As long as it takes,” he responds, and I feel my spirit starting to crumble.
“I won’t ask you to wait,” he says, a quiet strength to his voice. I pull away from him, anger fueling me.
“You won’t ask me to wait? How gallant of you!” I spit angrily but it dries up in seconds.
“I don’t have a choice. I never had a choice. No other option! You took my heart the day I fell in love with you!” I cry. “How do you expect me to live without it?!” I tell him before bursting into sobs again. His arms envelop me, and he holds me, but if it isn’t for eternity it won’t be long enough. I cover my face in my hands. He kisses both of them softly.
“When I come back, I’ll be the man you deserve.” I don’t know how long it is before he’ll leave me but I know my soul is going with him.
“My parents have the information as to where I’ll be, but don’t come see me, Lauren. We… I have to get fixed.” His voice is stern but some how manages to be tender. I’m afraid to look up at him.
“Do I make you worse?” My voice stutters. His lips land on mine and they’re so soft and gentle that for a second they makes me forget about the pain and the devastation that I’m sitting in the middle of.
“You make me want to be a better man.” His arms envelope me again, and I know it’ll be the last embrace we’ll have until… I don’t know when. My entire body aches—anger, despair and bewilderment swells in me.
“I love you more than my own life… you’ll get through this,” he tells me, and I laugh bitterly as he lets go, déjà vu.