Leaving Barringer

by Tina Martin

  He frowned. “You’re out? What do you mean, you’re out?”

  “You’re a smart man, Barry. Figure it out. I’m standing at the front door with a suitcase.”

  He began taking slow, intimidating steps towards her, crushing bits of shattered porcelain underneath his size fourteen Canali’s. “I have had the worst day of my professional life, and I have to come home to deal with this?”

  This? Calista’s frown deepened. “Oh, I’m sorry I’m not leaving you at your convenience, you selfish bastard!” She blew a breath and looked up at man who towered over her. “You know what, Barringer…I couldn’t care less about your bad day when I have endured years of bad days with you. So why don’t you save your pity party for someone else because I have had it! I’m done. You don’t have to deal with me anymore.” Anger blazed from her eyes, but were softened by tears she failed to hold in. She swiped them away, grabbed a hold of her suitcase and reached for the doorknob. She was mere steps away from freedom – a new beginning. A husbandless start. Feeling powerful and in control of her destiny. So why did her legs nearly buckle when she felt Barringer grip her arm while pulling the suitcase from her grasp?

  “Calista, just stop,” he said in a more reasonable tone. “We can work this out. Don’t do this to us.”

  “It’s too late for that,” Calista said, moving, pulling, yanking her arm to free herself from his grasp. “Let me go, Barry.”

  “No,” he said, pulling her closer, his hands settling at her waist. “Look at me.”

  She refused. She couldn’t. Staring into his dark, pleading eyes always did a number on her. She had to resist falling under his spell. She couldn’t look at him if she expected to walk through those double doors.

  “Cali, look at me,” he said in a seductive whisper. “Please.”

  Calista closed her eyes. She missed his captivating whispers. Missed the smell of his breath. His skin. The way his hands felt gripped around her waist. Stay focused, Calista. Don’t fall for his empty promises. The marriage won’t get any better. It’ll only get worse.

  “I know things haven’t been right for some time but it’ll all work out, baby.” His hands left her waist to settle at the sides of her face. He stared longingly at her while her eyes were closed. “Cali, open your eyes.”

  She opened them, slowly, connecting her gaze with his. When she saw the fear in his eyes, she knew she was a goner.

  “We can’t give up, baby,” he told her. “We can’t.”

  Calista swallowed hard. He was doing it again. Every time she tried to leave him in the past, he’d hit her with his we-can-work-this-out speech. As it stood, they hadn’t made love in months. He was always busy working, or he was too tired and if one of those excuses wouldn’t do, he’d find something else to avoid the bedroom. And every time they did make love, he’d be sure to take precautions to ensure she wouldn’t become pregnant.

  “Calista,” he said, nudging her chin up with a gentle touch of his index finger. “It’ll get better. I promise. We’re just going through a rough patch.”

  “A rough patch doesn’t last for four years,” she said with a weak, broken voice. The strength she had, the resolve that was once there, was gone.

  “We’ll get through it. Trust me.”

  “Barry—”

  “Trust me.” He lowered his lips to hers, feeling resistance at first. Shortly thereafter, she caved, fell into his embrace and kissed him back with as much desperation as he kissed her.

  Before she could attempt to offer up a second round of resistance, she felt herself being lifted from the floor while Barringer carried her upstairs to the bedroom – the same room she’d silently said her goodbyes to a few minutes ago. The room she was sure she’d never see again. That was short lived.

  Actually, she wasn’t paying much attention to the room. After clothes and shoes went flying – his shirt tossed this way, her clothes scattered that way – Calista was lying on her back, looking at Barringer hovering over her. It had been months. At every point where his body touched hers, she quivered. She felt like she’d pass out when his warm lips brushed against her neck – the feeling so intense, she could barely breathe. Why did he have to make her feel this way when she was at her breaking point? Why?

  “Are you okay?” he asked softly against her ear.

  “Yes,” she said, spellbound.

  He ran his fingers through her long hair, staring into her wide, bright eyes. Sad eyes. He hoped to make them happy again. “Sure?”

  “Yes.”

  He stopped kissing her neck to look at her. To connect their eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes, Barringer,” she whimpered, feeling his body connect and collide with hers between the halfway point of love and insanity – a joining so grand, so needed, it had her reciting vows in her head.

  What God has yoked together, let no man put a part.

  He stared at her face as he slowly settled, nibbling at his bottom lip at the immense pleasure tearing through him. All the times she wanted to leave him had ended this way – with him owning her, loving her like he’d never see her again, like it was their first time touching each other. Like he loved her and only realized it when he came close to losing her.

  Capturing her mouth with his, he took more soft kisses before greed turned them into ravenous ones. He missed her, and he realized he’d let work come between them. But there was something else eating away at his conscience – a secret he’d kept from her before they were even married. One he refused to think about right now. At this precise moment, he had to save his marriage and to his way of thinking, if he loved her hard enough, moved deep enough, kissed her with undeniable passion and took his time making love to her, he would buy himself more time to straighten things out. That’s all she needed, right? To know he loved her? To feel that love? He hoped so.

  Releasing her mouth, he left tender kisses against her face, down to her earlobe and neck, feeling her body quiver beneath him. He liked that because he knew she liked it. Her body was telling him so. The airy gasps and soft moans escaping between her lips told him so. He was on the right path, seducing her to stay, desperately wanting nothing more than to save his marriage. If she could just feel how much he loved her, how freely he was giving himself to her, how methodical and attentive he was to her needs, maybe she’d stay. He should’ve been attentive to her needs before, but better late than never.

  He frowned. He didn’t want to think about this while he was making love to his wife. That’s how he found himself in this predicament to start with.

  “I love you, Cali,” he whispered, gazing down at her, slowly moving on top of her. “I love you.” That was true. Barringer loved his wife. He was loyal to Calista. He didn’t have roving eyes. Late nights at the office weren’t because there was another woman in the picture. He loved Calista and only her. But he also loved success and wealth. His problem was, he didn’t know how to prioritize, perhaps the reason he also lost the Blakeney account. Candice warned him a few months ago that Blakeney was hinting at looking for a new firm once their contract ended. Vying for new business, he ignored her, put it on the backburner and now, he’d lost them. He put Calista and her desire to have a family on the backburner, too. But, like Blakeney, he couldn’t lose her.

  Calista closed her eyes when she felt tears well up in them. Barringer said he loved her. She knew that already. Whether or not he loved her wasn’t the issue which made their problem a unique one. It was Calista’s belief he didn’t know how to love her. He knew how to provide for her, and he was demonstrating how well and thorough he could make love to her. But he really didn’t know how to love her.

  A tear escaped her eye, rolled slowly towards her ear as she’d reached an epiphany. Her husband didn’t know how to love her.

  “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

  How could she answer truthfully while they were making love? Physically he wasn’t hurting her. Mentally, he was doing a number on her. No woman, no wife wanted to
feel like she had to take extreme measures to get her husband’s attention. Was he making love to her only so he could buy himself a couple more months, or was this genuine? The fact that she didn’t know was a problem.

  Moving slow yet still dominating, fueling her desire for more of him, Barringer remembered when lovemaking used to be frequent. When they’d gotten married, they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. What happened?

  “Barry,” Calista gasped, attempting to tighten the grip she had on his large biceps.

  Something about hearing her whisper his name while feeling her squeeze him boosted his desire to please her to the fullest. She needed this. They both did.

  Nibbling on her bottom lip, she kept her eye closed when sensations washed through her, nearly drowning her with passion. She lost all sense. All control, quivering underneath him.

  “Calista,” he said gruffly, his body locking up and letting go as he gave her all he had. He threw his head back and toppled over, emptying his mind, soul and heart into her all at once. He wanted to give her his all, wanted to be the perfect husband for her, but he knew his all would never be enough because while he could give her just about anything in the world she wanted, he couldn’t give her the one thing she wanted more than anything – a baby. According to his doctor, he was sterile, and he could never find the right words or the right time to tell Calista that.

  Chapter 3

  Calista watched Barringer as he slept. It was only a few minutes after ten, but he was out. Cold. She scanned his features. He looked thick and muscular, something he could hide well in his suits, but lying here naked, she had a full view of him. His thighs, butt and legs were all toned and sculpted to perfection. He was overpoweringly male and highly intelligent. That’s what attracted her to him – he was strong and smart – so she knew he’d be a good protector and provider. And she loved the fact that he was driven. Had ambition and craved success.

  How ironic.

  The same thing which made her love him, was the very thing that caused discontentment in their marriage.

  She sighed heavily and closed her eyes. She’d made love to him just hours ago. Even when she knew it wouldn’t change her mind – knew that even through her moment of weakness, nothing he could do at this point would sway her – she made love to him. She knew he would try to seduce her into staying, which was part of the reason why she planned her grand escape before he was due to be home. He’d worked until eleven at night almost every day this week, but this day, the day he supposedly had the worst day of his professional career, he’d come home early and caught her coming downstairs with a suitcase.

  Weird how those two incidents coincided with each other. It almost didn’t seem like a coincidence, like he was supposed to be home early that day. Like the universe was giving him a nudge in the right direction. He lost a client which resulted in him coming home early which, in turn, resulted in him stopping her attempt to leave.

  His idea of stopping her was making love to her. Not sitting down, talking – arguing if they had to – over the problems at hand. He wanted to Band-Aid their issues with temporary pleasure.

  And she fell for it.

  So if she knew what his tactic would be why did she sleep with him? The answer was simple.

  She loved her husband. He was her world. Her everything. Before life got complicated, when they were blissfully in love and he was an employee at BFSG instead of the person running it, they were actually happy. Granted he wasn’t a millionaire then, but she didn’t need him to be. The richest people in life were usually the brokest. People could live comfortably without being rich. They were financially stable before the millions, lived in a smaller home and had time for each other, something they sorely lacked now.

  When life was simpler, he made it home in time for dinner, or he would pick her up and go somewhere for dinner. He did little things to help out around the house, like fold clothes, vacuum, even cook. It was just him and her. Barringer and Calista. He was her everything, her world, and that was a major part of her problem. Their problem. Her life revolved around him. Who was Calista Blackstone besides, Barringer Blackstone’s wife?

  She’d given up her dreams to be his wife. She was looking forward to following in her mother’s footsteps and working behind the scenes in the healthcare field, assisting people. It would be a fulfilling career, one in which she could be proud of. But Barringer didn’t want her to work. He wanted her to be a stay-at-home mom. Six years later, she was a stay-at-home wife. She hoped she would be a mother at some point because there wasn’t a greater job in the world than being a mother. It was a privilege. Rewarding. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t get to experience being a mother, because while she held up her end of the deal and took care of the household, Barringer hadn’t given her a baby. Now she wasn’t sure she wanted his baby, being on the verge of leaving and all.

  Calista eased up from the bed, careful not to disturb the mattress too much. She didn’t want to wake him. She looked at him when she was standing next to the bed. He slept soundly. She doubted a fire alarm could wake him. He was out, and she had to use that to her advantage. She picked up her clothes from the hardwood floor then stepped into the bathroom, feeling knots form in her stomach, nervous she might get caught again. As she pulled her panties up her legs, she thought about how, two weeks ago, she’d cooked a pot of roast beef, one of Barringer’s favorite meals to perfection, made a thick, creamy bowl of garlic mashed potatoes and a fresh garden salad. In their expansive dining room – large because they regularly entertained family as well as Barringer’s work executives – she lit candles, played soft jazz music and served him up his favorite meal. It was one of their good days. The kind of day that gave her a glimmer of optimism that maybe, just maybe, they would make it through marriage somehow. Every married couple had problems. No marriage was perfect. Life was okay. Things were off balance but they were manageable – at least that particular day they were.

  They had talked about their respective days, something they hadn’t done in some time. She told him how she’d set up the appointment with his cousin Colton to have the guest bedrooms downstairs painted. Passionate plum was the color she chose for one and the other would be refreshmint green.

  When it was his turn to talk about his day, he chose to disclose how one of their biggest competitors was trying to steal their largest client. She thought it was odd for him to bring up something work-related since he usually never talked to her about business. Apparently, the candles and champagne had relaxed him enough to let his guard down. She figured she’d use that to her advantage and talk about children. She was the one to bring up that subject. Never him. Always her. Deciding to dive in, she asked him what she always asked – when they would try to get pregnant.

  Suddenly his relaxed demeanor became one of irritation. He poured more champagne in his flute and said, “Come on, Cali. Don’t ruin our night bringing up babies again. Let’s enjoy each other right now.”

  And that was the end of that.

  Just like tonight was the end of them.

  Fully dressed, Calista emerged from the bathroom, looking over at the bed to make sure Barringer was still sleeping. Due to the variations of shadows in the room, she couldn’t get a full view of his face, but he wasn’t moving and she could hear him snoring. He was still sleeping, thank God. Now she could make a clean getaway.

  She quietly exited the bathroom, stepped out into the hallway and eased the door closed like a mother not wanting to wake a sleeping infant. Afterwards, she carefully descended the stairs. Halfway down, she began seeing memories flash in her mind with each step:

  Step – the smile Barringer had on his face as he walked towards her on their wedding day

  Step – their one-year anniversary in Maui

  Step – an epic five-hour road trip from Wilmington to the Biltmore Inn at Asheville

  Step – camping in the backyard

  Step – running to the car in the rain after leaving one of their favorite r
estaurants

  Step – the family dinners

  Step – the lovemaking

  Once at the bottom of the staircase, she looked up once more, her way of saying a final goodbye to her husband. To their house. To the memories. The pictures. The what ifs. Walking over the broken porcelain in the foyer, listening as it crackled underneath her shoes, she grabbed a hold of the suitcase handle, pulling it out of the door behind her.

  Chapter 4

  Releasing a deep breath that did nothing to calm the ache brewing at the front of her head, Calista stepped into her new home, a one-bedroom apartment across town, away from her old home – Barringer’s home. She needed to be across town. When she had first started looking for a place to live, she knew she couldn’t be near Barringer’s house. It would be too much temptation to go running back to him, and at this point, that was not an option. She’d tried to work things out with him in the past, and they always ended up right back where they started after he supposedly tried to make things better.

  She didn’t tell the girls she was leaving Barringer. They knew about the strain in their marriage. Strangers could see the disconnect between them, so she knew the family was well aware, Kalina especially. She had confided in Kalina about some things, but she didn’t want to be the woman who gave a play-by-play of everything that was going on in her relationship – good or bad. And she didn’t want Barringer to know where she was living. At least for the first few weeks. She needed the time to decompress and detoxify from the strain of being his wife while transitioning into a better version of herself. She didn’t know how she would keep her location a secret in Wilmington where everyone knew the Blackstone family, but she had no choice but to try.