Mister West

by R. J. Lewis

  Unless…

  I just stare at him, feeling my eyes sting.

  “Is there someone else?” he questions, face twisted up. “Is…is that why? I don’t understand. Are you…are you talking to someone?”

  I swallow hard. My lips tremble. “I…”

  I feel suffocated.

  “Ivy, is there another man?”

  Say no, say no.

  I whisper, “Yes.”

  Because I don't want to lie. I want to be free with my choices.

  His face falls, and he looks at me with disbelief. Silence falls over us. His breathing is heavy and mine is mute. I’m holding in my breath. I’m trying to be brave, but this is hard.

  “He didn’t influence my decision.” I try making him understand. “This needs to end regardless. I am not coming back to you. I haven’t been happy for a very long time. You confuse me, Derek, because one minute you’re accepting that we’re done, and then you’re storming around, pissed off at me like you think it’s come out of nowhere –”

  “Who the fuck is the man?” he cuts in, his voice cold. “Is he someone I know?”

  “He doesn’t matter.”

  His face twists. “He does fucking matter –”

  “I came to this decision long before I met him –”

  “I want to know his name.”

  “This has nothing to do with him –”

  “Is this revenge for what I did?”

  “Don’t talk about that again!”

  “I cheated on you once and you’re doing it back?”

  I’m blown away. “I didn’t cheat on you. We’ve been separated. Don’t play the victim, Derek. You come home smelling like perfume all the time and suddenly it’s different because it’s me?”

  He’s so angry, his nostrils flare. “I don’t believe you. You’ve been fucking a man from before we were separated –”

  “Now you’re saying that to ease your own guilt –”

  “It’s true –”

  “No, it’s not!”

  My phone vibrates from the kitchen – no, no, no – and my eyes widen as he looks over my shoulder. A dark look crosses his face. Before I react, he’s pushing past me, slamming his shoulder against mine. I fall back against the wall as he hurries into the kitchen. I stand up quickly and rush in after him. He grabs my phone off the charger before I get to it.

  “Not like this, Derek,” I plead. “Not like this…”

  My words die as he swipes the screen. I hurry to grab the phone from his hand, but he twists around, using his strength to keep me at bay.

  “It’s my phone, Derek,” I say, angrily.

  “Who is messaging you?”

  “Give me my phone!”

  “Who the fuck are you talking to?” he rants. “You’re fucking someone else. That’s why you won’t let me touch you. Months of nothing! You haven’t let me touch you from before you went away because of him! You’re fucking him –”

  “I haven’t done anything like that! We talk.”

  “With WHO?”

  But before I can respond, he asks, “Who the fuck is A.W.?”

  Shit.

  “Give me my phone!” I growl.

  He pushes me so hard, my back slams against the counter. The breath is knocked out of me as he strides away. He slams the bathroom door shut, locking himself in with my phone.

  My heart is beating in my ears. My hands are shaking. Panicked, I stand there, for minutes and minutes, waiting for him to come out.

  “Who the fuck are you?!” he shrieks in the bathroom. “Show your fucking face around here, you little cunt! You know where I live? You’re fucking my woman? I’ll fucking kill you!”

  My heart drops in my chest. Oh, my God. He called him. I race to the door and bang on it.

  “Derek, stop!” I tell him. “Leave him alone! This has nothing to do with him! We haven’t done anything, Derek!”

  The door whips open and Derek storms out, peering down at me with cold eyes.

  “You’re fucking another man –”

  “No!”

  “Yes, you are! I read those messages –”

  “Nothing happened like that. We just talk –”

  “He says he wants you –”

  “Jesus, Derek, he just talks –”

  “He talks to you like he knows everything about you!” His voice cracks. “You’ve fucked him!”

  “I haven’t!”

  “This has been going on forever, hasn’t it?”

  “No!”

  “From before you left.”

  “Would you stop and listen? I said NO.”

  He’s so angry, he pushes me hard the next time I reach for my phone. I lose balance and fall back on my ass. I stare at him, shocked. He smashes the phone down hard on the floor beside me, then he stomps on it, breaking the screen. My heart is speeding so fast in my chest. I feel sick just staring at the damage.

  This is why you left the first time, Ivy. How could you come back to this?

  “How long has it been going on then?” he seethes. “How long, Ivy?”

  One second I’m bewildered that he’s destroyed something else that’s mine. The next second my flight response kicks in and I’m standing up, rushing past him and to my room. I’ve had enough of this. I need to get out. Derek has gone off the deep end. Like he did the last time I left. This isn’t safe anymore. I worried this might happen. He will break everything in front of him before he calms down. I’ve seen it before, and I can’t watch it happen again.

  You did this, Ivy. You could have left a long time ago.

  WHY DIDN’T YOU LEAVE A LONG TIME AGO?

  I’m beating myself up. I try not to. I silence those thoughts because now isn’t the time to be weak.

  “Answer me, Ivy!”

  “I’ll answer you when you’re sober!” I bite back, grabbing my bag off the ground. I check for my wallet. When I know it’s there, I grab any clothes nearby and shove them inside.

  “Here I am feeling guilty, being made out to be a fucking monster, and all along you’ve been fucking another man!” he carries on.

  I ignore him now. Let him think what he wants. I don’t try to defend myself. I just need to leave, but he’s covered up the doorway again. He’s stopping me from leaving. I stand in front of him, shaking my head.

  “I’m too tired to do this,” I tell him, feeling weak. “Just let me out.”

  “I’m not budging until you answer me!”

  I go to scoot past him, but he shoves me back hard.

  “You have to stop touching me like that,” I snap, feeling my blood pressure spike. “Don’t touch me like that! Just let me out!”

  But he pushes me back every time I try to move past him. I’m feeling so frustrated, I want to scream, but he’s doing all the screaming for the both of us. He won’t stop demanding to know who Aidan is, how long I’ve been fucking him, how we met.

  “He talks to me!” I finally relent. “He just talks to me! He pays attention to me –”

  “So do I!”

  “No, you don’t! You cheated on me, fucked a woman while Isabella died in my hands –”

  “No one told me she was about to pass!”

  “You never picked up your phone!”

  “She was in the incubator the last I saw –”

  “I don’t want to hear about it anymore!” I cry, feeling sick with pain. “God, I can’t bear it anymore, Derek! Just let me pass. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to see you. I’m too broken up inside, don’t you get it? There’s nothing left between us. You broke me, Derek! The worst thing I ever did was come back to THIS!”

  “Then you led me on! You could have told me, you could have gone and stayed with Ana, but you came here instead –”

  “I didn’t want to drop my baggage into her life –”

  “You practically do already –”

  My hands are in the air. “Okay, I’m sorry! I’m sorry for what I did!”

  He points a finger at me, growl
ing, “You’re just telling me what I want to hear!”

  “I’m not! I’m telling you I’m sorry!”

  “And now you’re fucking a man like those bar flies do!”

  “That’s rich coming from you!”

  “I was drunk!”

  “You were sober enough in those pictures!”

  “It was meaningless!”

  “Not to me!” I shake my head, feeling twisted apart now that we’re talking about it.

  “Well, I’m here, fighting for you, Ivy!”

  “No, you’re not. You only want me because I’m going! Where was the fight before? Where was it when I was alone, left in this apartment with a broken heart, while you partied and drank and spent our money? Where was it when I wanted to study? You weren’t there for me, championing me! You made me feel guilty for wanting to be better!”

  “That’s bullshit!”

  “It’s true! You let the distance grow because you hated that I was changing! That I didn’t want to piss away any more time out there in your world! And us co-existing? You were fine with the separation because it meant I was here, under this roof, and you could know what I was up to!”

  He keeps shaking his head. “That’s not true!”

  “It is! I grew, Derek. I had to be the responsible one. The second I saw that line on that stick, I knew everything needed to change. But you…you didn’t care!”

  “You act like you’re so fucking high and mighty, yet you’re sneaking around behind my back, talking to some other dick a lot longer than you’re letting on –”

  “Keep feeding yourself that bullshit, Derek, if it makes you feel better!”

  “You’re dirty, Ivy! You pretend to be a fucking nun, but you are! You’re filthy for doing this to me!”

  “Me, me, me!” I mock. “That’s how you sound! That’s all it ever is!”

  We keep screaming at each other. He tells me I’m a whore. That I wasted his time. I nod, even agree, because I just want to stop the arguing. Let him have it. Let him say what he wants. I have no urge to defend myself.

  At some point, I push him so I can move past. He grabs me by the arm tight and I try pushing him away. He’s squeezing so hard, my arm feels like it’s being twisted off. This is volatile. It’s going to get violent. His eyes are dark from rage. My vision is too blurry to see him clearly. My voice is scratchy, but my pleas are clear.

  Let go of me. Stop touching me. You’re going to regret doing this, Derek. You always do. I repeat this over and over again. I reach a point where I can’t maintain composure any longer. I feel like a flame growing hotter. I’m letting all the negativity in, and I’m pleading for him to let me go.

  “Derek, stop it! You need to let me go!”

  “You don’t get to walk away and come back when it suits you –”

  “I’m never coming back again!” I scream with certainty. “Never!”

  His face is red from anger. “You don’t mean that!”

  “I do!”

  His front presses against me, and he’s screaming down at me. It’s all a fucked-up blur. I try moving around him, but he pushes me back, so hard that I fall back, landing on the bed. My neck hurts from the harsh landing. I get back up and he shoves me back down, harder this time. Pain shoots through my neck again. I press a hand to my forehead. The room is spinning. Before I can get back up, I hear the front door slam open. I can’t see the door from the bedroom where I am. I tense, waiting for one of his friends to barge into the room, but Derek looks surprised.

  He turns around, and marches to the doorway. His shoulders stiffen. “Who the fuck are you?”

  “Ivy?” a voice calls out.

  A spark shoots through me. “Aidan…”

  This is going to be full-blown pandemonium.

  He’s at the door within seconds and this time Derek steps away to face him.

  “Is this him?” he demands. “You been fucking my wife?”

  “There’s a car waiting out front,” Aidan quickly tells me before focusing on Derek. “Go to it, Ivy.”

  Everything happens so fast. Aidan’s pushing him back, telling me to leave, and Derek is going crazy. He tries to come to me, but Aidan is standing in his way, pushing him away from me.

  “Fuck off!” Derek shouts at him. “Don’t you fucking touch me!”

  “Get out, Ivy,” Aidan tells me sharply.

  “You leave, and we are fucking through, Ivy.”

  I’m already through, though. It takes a lot to get up. My legs are wobbly, and my heart is in my mouth. Derek’s face falls when he sees me begin to move.

  “Don’t leave me, Ivy,” he pleads.

  My heart hurts so much. I suck in a breath and turn to look back at him, but I catch Aidan’s face instead. He’s staring at me, his face hard.

  “You will leave,” he demands slowly.

  He’s right.

  He’s right, I repeat to myself.

  I need to leave.

  In a desperate attempt to get to me, Derek swings his drunken fists at Aidan, but Aidan blocks each one. He doesn’t punch him back. Not even once. He keeps Derek at bay, looking like a giant wall in front of him, as I quickly get up, bag in hand and hurry out of the apartment.

  The neighbors are standing in the hallway, hearing the commotion. I don’t even look at them as I take the elevator down to the ground floor. I’m shaking everywhere. It’s all a blur.

  Like Aidan said, there’s a black car waiting out front, and his driver is sitting behind the wheel. My legs move, even while my brain isn’t processing. I feel like I’m hovering outside myself.

  Without thinking, I slip into the back of the car and shut my eyes.

  Aidan

  My blood is boiling, and my vision is spotty. I’m going to fucking snap. It doesn’t take a lot for me to get angry. I’m a pissy person. Not the most patient man around, sure, but this…this is a different kind of rage. I feel it on a primal level. I feel like something of mine has been damaged.

  Ivy is mine. The thought is a whisper in my mind, but it’s so loud, too. She came into my life, already taken, but I can’t shake the feeling she’s mine. I’m trusting my instincts. I’m trusting what my heart is saying, because for once my heart is saying something.

  The second Ivy is out of the room, I redirect my gaze at this dick-bag motherfucker. She’s gone, so I don’t need to be fucking civil.

  He’s already trying to get around me. He looks like a junkie that’s racing after his next hit.

  This motherfucker.

  I quickly push him back hard, slamming him into the door.

  “So, you’re the cheating shit,” I growl as he struggles against me. “You’re not going anywhere, motherfucker.”

  He seethes, looking back at me. He’s so drunk, his eyes can hardly focus.

  “She’ll come back to me,” he says. “She always does.”

  “You put on quite a fucking show,” I return. “Begging for her, and she wasn’t having any of it. I doubt you’ll see her again. This trauma bond you’ve put her through ends now.”

  Because that’s what it is. It’s trauma bond. Ivy only knows this chaos. It’s altered her brain chemistry. It’s got her tethered to a cunt even when she’s desperate for an escape. She needs this intervention. It’s the only way to sever the connection. I’ve been there. I see it for what it is, and I’m going to make sure it ends now.

  There’s panic in his fidgeting now.

  “You’re going to use her,” he tells me, seething. “I know your type. You’re not serious about her.”

  “I’m very serious about her,” I return swiftly.

  “Just let her go. She wants us. You’ve influenced her, I know it. She’s not the same.”

  “You mean she isn’t malleable?” I ask, raising my brows. “She doesn’t give in anymore every time you throw these pussy fits? She only ever did it to avoid conflict. Your happiness used to be her high.”

  “You don’t know anything about us.”

  “I know en
ough.”

  “She’s only running because she blames herself for what happened to Isabella. She’s been pushing me away ever since, and she’ll push you away too.”

  I’m not going to pretend to know what he’s talking about. Whatever happened, I don’t want to hear it from him, either. Ivy’s gone out of her way to stay out of my life when it’s everywhere on the internet. I’m not going to meddle, especially if it means having to hear this cunt talk.

  I glance around the bedroom now, taking in the chaos. Some of it is girly shit, like her make-up and clothing, but there’s empty bottles of alcohol too. I frown, feeling frustrated with myself for not having intervened sooner.

  I could have stopped her from going in the night I dropped her off from the airport and she looked up at the building with fear in her eyes. She’d been ready to leave then, and I just watched her go in. So concerned with myself, with building barriers that made my emotions inaccessible, I ultimately sentenced her to months of the same cyclic abuse.

  I redirect my gaze to this asshole. His clothes are baggy, his eyes are sunken in, his face is red and sweaty. He’s got all the signs of alcohol dependency.

  “If you genuinely care for Ivy, you’d let her the fuck go.” I don’t say this maliciously. There’s no growl in my tone, no aggression in my eyes as I peer at him closely. “You’d let her go,” I repeat.

  Something really weird happens.

  His fight leaves him. He stops moving and grows limp. When I let him go, he’s sliding down the wall, arms over his knees, staring blankly ahead.

  “I love her,” he whispers brokenly. “I do love her.”

  I step back, giving him room. “Then let her go.”

  He looks up at me, his eyes raw with hurt. “I wasn’t always like this.”

  I really don’t give a fuck. This guy got to touch her, be with her, share moments with her I will never know about. I wonder if Montcalm is his last name, too. I really should have read that fucking file, but I prefer learning about Ivy the old-fashioned way.