Every Wrong Reason

by Rachel Higginson

  “You retired?” I hated that this divorce had turned me into a parrot. Was losing the ability to have original thoughts a side effect of divorce trauma?

  He handed out more candy while I stood there blankly. More kids came to the door, dragging their parents with them.

  While I stood there watching mutely, Nick talked to our neighbor for a little bit, shooting the shit and discussing the most mundane stuff ever. Neither of them acknowledged me. Chris, our neighbor, didn’t even notice me at all. Or at least he pretended not to.

  After we were alone again, I tried to form words. “You quit the band?”

  “I prefer retired, but yeah, I guess that’s what happened.”

  “But… but… Why?”

  He shifted his shoulders and it was the first time I noticed tension in him since he arrived. His back had gone taut with some emotion that I wanted to believe was frustration or anger. But I couldn’t make myself believe it.

  I couldn’t read him at all anymore. His eyes were hidden from me in the dim entryway and behind a black mask. I couldn’t see them. All I had to read him by was his body language and his lean body didn’t say much underneath a black and white stripped t-shirt and his familiar low-waist jeans. It wasn’t that complicated of a costume, but for some reason it really got to me.

  It bothered me that he’d dressed up and looked so good and on top of that, he’d showed up at my house with extra candy.

  He wanted to make our divorce as difficult as possible and my life hell. And yet he was here. Like this.

  It wasn’t fair.

  He wasn’t playing fair.

  The burn inside me became a searing force that actually hurt me.

  “You were right, Kate. It was time.”

  “I was right?” My words sputtered from my lips with jolting disbelief. “So that’s it? We decide to end things and then you quit the band? Are you serious?”

  He turned around to face me. “I said you were right.”

  “I heard what you said! But why couldn’t you have said that to me while we were still married?” I felt breathless with anger, blind with it.

  “We are still married.”

  “Nick!”

  He tilted his head arrogantly and clenched his jaw. “Would it have mattered?”

  “Yes!” I couldn’t put enough conviction in the word, though, so I amended to, “Maybe.” I took a step back, gripping the huge plastic bowl of candy to my chest. “You could have tried! You could have at least tried!”

  His words were soft, but not gentle. The hard tone buzzed over my skin, pulling at the hair on the back of my neck. “I did try.”

  I barely heard him. “What difference does it make now? Why quit now? For seven years, it was the most important thing in your life and now it’s… it’s not?” I sounded more than hysterical. I screeched at him like a lunatic, unable to control the volume of my voice or my crazed emotions.

  “No. It’s not. There are more important things than the band.”

  “But why did you wait to figure that out now? God, seriously! I can’t believe this. I can’t believe that I begged you for years to quit, to move on, to do something else and you didn’t listen to me one time. Not one single time. And then we fall apart and suddenly you know there are more important things.”

  The doorbell rang, but neither of us moved to answer it. Instead, Nick pushed the main door so hard that it slammed shut, right in the bewildered faces of some little kids.

  I glanced wildly at the door, wondering what neighbor I was going to have to apologize to tomorrow. Nick stepped right in front of me, pulling my attention back to him.

  “Why do you care, Kate? You’re going to divorce me no matter what, so what does it matter what I’m doing with my life? Huh? Why do you care so much?”

  “Because!” A punch of air whooshed out of me and I struggled not to sway. My fury was too much for my mortal body. I felt like a force of nature, like a tornado that would destroy every single thing in the wake of my anger. “Because it’s what I wanted from you! Because I worked so hard at our marriage, at making things work with you. And you didn’t give me anything! You didn’t try anything! And now… now it’s too late and suddenly the decision is easy for you. It doesn’t matter that we fought endlessly about it! It doesn’t matter that I begged you, that I pleaded with you to try something different. It doesn’t matter that I would have supported you anyway, against my will, against what I wanted, just because I loved you and wanted you to succeed.” Hot tears fell from my eyes, landing on my cheeks and lips. I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t fight them anymore.

  Nick’s wrath matched my own. He took another step forward and I forced myself not to retreat further. “Oh, really? You would have supported me no matter what?” He let out a bark of derisive laughter. “Then why are we here? Why did you file papers and kick me out of the house? Why, if all you wanted was for me to succeed, are you sleeping here alone and I’m living on my brother’s couch?”

  I took a step back anyway. I was a coward. Or maybe the pulse of his frustration was so strong it pushed me back. My shoulders bumped against the wall and one of my decorative pictures shook next to my head. “Why couldn’t you try for me? Why couldn’t you have decided this six months ago?”

  His lips had pressed into a straight line before he gritted out, “I wasn’t ready.”

  The sound I made was half-tortured, half-furious. “So why now?”

  I waited for his answer while his shoulders jerked with the intensity of his emotion and his jaw clenched and unclenched. But he never said anything. Instead, he shocked the absolute hell out of me, by ripping the bowl of candy out of my hands and throwing it against the far wall.

  Plastic collided against the drywall and candy flew everywhere. I had just enough time to let out a startled gasp before his lips crashed to mine with equal force.

  He took my mouth in a punishing kiss. He knew me intimately, familiarly. He knew exactly how to kiss me. Exactly how to make my body respond. It only took one second for me to kiss him back.

  I had so much emotion bubbling inside me. I had been through too much trauma over the last few months, spent too much time alone. I didn’t have a prayer of denying Nick this kiss.

  If only it would have stopped there.

  But it didn’t.

  Our mouths warred with each other, his tongue chasing mine, his lips moving over mine with greedy need. I took his bottom lip in a sharp bite, pulling it between my teeth and truly tasting the soft fullness of his mouth.

  His hands slammed on my waist before diving beneath my black sweater. His skin seared mine; my burning lungs stuttered with the effort to breath. I found my own hands clutching at his shirt, balling it up in my fists and holding him to me.

  God, this was too familiar.

  Too good.

  It had been too long.

  His body pressed against mine with a possessiveness I had never felt from him before. It was like he was declaring that I was still his, that I was still his wife.

  Until every last paper was signed, I still belonged to this man.

  And I knew it was a bad thing… that this made us completely dysfunctional and turned us into every embarrassing cliché out there, but I could not stop.

  I could not get enough of him.

  I didn’t want to get enough of him.

  His hands moved over my body, remembering every curve, every inch of me. My cat ears headband was pushed off, landing in a muffled thud on the wood floor. My shirt came next. He practically tore the sweater from my body in his effort to get to more of me.

  I was equally desperate to get to his chest. I threw the hat somewhere on the staircase, the mask went next and finally the t-shirt.

  As soon as his chest was bare, he pressed his body against mine and we both moaned into each other’s mouth. The feel of him, with his skin against mine, his heart pounding against mine… it was too much. Too much sensation. Too much sweet anguish. Too much of everything good and right
about our marriage.

  There were so many reasons that we shouldn’t be together.

  But this wasn’t one of them.

  This was one of the reasons we had stayed together for so long.

  “Kate,” he groaned, tearing his lips from mine to explore my neck and chest. His tongue licked and his teeth nipped at the top of my breasts. I pushed my chest up for him, anxious to have more of him touch me and more of me touch him.

  The high-pitched whimper I couldn’t hold back pushed him over the edge. He was wild, savage, completely frenzied with lust and desire. He pushed his hips into mine and my eyes rolled to the back of my head. God, this man.

  This man that I couldn’t stand.

  This man that I was divorcing.

  He made quick work of my bra, flicking it open with his deft, practiced fingers. He yanked it from my arms without an ounce of gentleness or consideration. It was like he couldn’t help himself. He had no self-control. No restraint.

  And his wicked energy did nothing but make me hotter.

  Our pants came next. We tore at buttons and kicked them frantically from our legs. My hands slipped into the waistband of his boxer briefs and I moaned again at the feel of this familiar area. My hands skated down his legs, taking his underwear with them, relishing in the delicious heat of his body.

  My panties were next. But he did not worship my legs or touch me reverently. He tore at them; he shoved them down and desperately fought them off my ankles. He wasn’t in the mood to be adoring or sweet. He was primal with his need, completely lost in this ferocious want.

  For a short second reality flashed in my mind and I knew we were making a huge mistake. I tried to voice my objection. I tried to remind him that we weren’t together anymore and that this would only set us back.

  But it was like he could read my mind. As soon as I started to say something, his mouth took mine again in another consuming kiss.

  Soon, I couldn’t think of anything rational. There was no such thing as logic or good choices.

  There was only him and me and our naked bodies.

  There was only the familiar heat that had always been between us and the scorching intensity as we took each other in a new way.

  We’d had makeup sex before. We’d had huge fights before today and used sex to get over them.

  But this was something completely different. This wasn’t an apology. This was war. A war of our bodies, of our wills… of our souls.

  He took me right there. Right against the wall.

  I wrapped my legs around him and he held me steady as he reminded me what it was like to have him as a husband. And at the same time, he revealed a side of him I had never known.

  I clasped my arms around his head while he alternated between taking my mouth and taking my breasts. His short beard scraped against my skin in a familiar sting that I welcomed, that I loved. Our sweaty bodies moved together in a rhythm of something we had done countless times before, but it had never ever been like this.

  Despite the newness, he still knew exactly what to do to get my body to respond to his. He knew how to touch me. He knew how to move inside me. He knew the moment I reached the brink of something shattering.

  And then he knew how to push me over the edge and make my world explode.

  I screamed out with the shock and intensity of an orgasm like none before this one. My fingers dug into his back and my thighs squeezed his waist, desperate to make this feeling last forever.

  He followed after me, burying his face in my neck and sinking his teeth into the soft flesh there. The moment seemed to go on and on and on until he sagged against the wall and I collapsed in his arms.

  When he set me on my feet, I was beyond dazed and more than confused. Not surprisingly, the anger had drained out of me and left me with a bizarre longing I couldn’t explain.

  Regret and disappointment with my own behavior followed shortly and I didn’t know if I would be able to stand up against the force of these emotions.

  I wanted to run and hide.

  I wanted to cry again and never stop.

  I expected that I would do both of those things.

  Just as soon as I figured out what the hell Nick was thinking!

  “Nick-”

  “Don’t,” he growled and the depth of his tone made me shut my mouth immediately.

  He jerked his pants up and buttoned them with furious movements. His gaze lifted to mine and the heat behind his eyes pierced me in place.

  I was wrong. We didn’t need to talk.

  We definitely didn’t need to talk.

  We never needed to talk again.

  We could just keep communicating like this.

  Against the wall.

  He grabbed his shirt and yanked it on. It was inside out and backward, but I was not going to be the one to point that out to him.

  I stood there naked, awkwardly covering my breasts.

  “Whatever you’re thinking right now, Kate, stop.”

  “I’m not thinking anything,” I whispered.

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  The command was too brutal for me to ignore, “Okay.”

  “I’ll let you be now.” His voice shook as if he were having a very hard time controlling himself right this second so all I did was nod. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  I nodded again. Even though I mostly wanted to beg him not to. I wanted to beg him to forget this ever happened.

  Even though I knew I never could.

  Even though I knew I would remember the intensity, the soul-shattering connection… the profound desperation we’d taken each other with to my very last breath.

  I would never forget this.

  And I had a very disarming thought that this would be the time I compared every single other time to in my future.

  But, damn.

  Nick took a step forward and for one horrifying second I thought he was going to kiss me again. I couldn’t take any more. If he kissed me again, I would shatter.

  He seemed to realize this and stopped himself short. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he repeated on his way out the door.

  “Okay,” I whispered.

  But when he called the next day, I didn’t answer.

  And when he continued to call for the following three days, I continued to not answer. After that, he didn’t call again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  21. He’s completely unpredictable.

  The next time I saw Nick was a week before Thanksgiving at our first round of mediation. My lawyer had suggested getting the help of a third party after Nick remained completely uncooperative. I hoped mediation was the answer. I didn’t want to go to trial and I couldn’t believe Nick did either. I truly believed we could work through everything civilly.

  At least I hoped we could.

  I had assured Mr. Cavanaugh that Nick and I could be polite and mature, but my lawyer was in his mid-fifties and had apparently seen his fair share of bitter wives and hateful husbands.

  He didn’t have the most positive attitude where the dissolution of marriage was concerned.

  Then again, he had the kind of demeanor that generally expected the worst. Beneath his disheveled white hair was a face that could never be pleased. Deep wrinkles stretched across his forehead and gathered in the corners of his dull eyes. His mouth was perpetually turned down and his wide shoulders drooped beneath his crumpled cheap suits. He reminded me of a hound dog. An old hound dog.

  But he knew divorce law and he’d promised to get me what I needed- which was a divorce. He just had no hope that the proceedings would be easy.

  And he was probably right.

  I stepped onto the elevator of the building that housed Whitney, Boggs and Stone and ignored the taste in my mouth that felt like vomit on my tongue and bile in my stomach. Our first meeting was set in Nick’s lawyer’s office. And it was immaculate.

  I needed a minute to steady my nerves and prepare for the battle I was headed into, but the glass walls and busy lobby prev
ented solitude. I was on display the moment I walked into the building.

  Not that I really thought all of these people were paying attention to little old me. But I felt like they were. My emotions manipulated my brain until I had to force myself not to hide my face in my hands.

  It was silly. Especially when divorce was so common these days.

  But I felt completely transparent for the world to see. I felt like there was a giant neon sign following me around, blinking an arrow at my back and declaring, “This one’s getting a divorce! She couldn’t make her marriage work! She’s a failure! She’s a failure! She’s a failure!”

  God, I needed a drink.

  And maybe some therapy. With someone that wasn’t Kara.

  I stared at the climbing numbers as I moved upward and wondered what the statistic was on divorce driving people crazy. I had never been concerned about my mental health before.

  Not until the last few months when it became an epic, life-ending struggle just to get through each day.

  Now I felt brittle and breakable. I felt on the verge of losing every ounce of precarious sanity I had left.

  The elevator opened on the eleventh floor and I stepped into the reception room. Mr. Cavanaugh waited for me near the door, glancing at his watch impatiently. Taking in his rumpled appearance I suddenly felt very self-conscious. I smoothed my hands over my brown, wide-leg trousers and tugged on my gold sweater.

  A groan fell from my lips when I realized we were going to walk into the conference room looking equally ruffled. We were united in our disheveledness.

  That didn’t bode well for us.

  Nick had been nice enough to schedule our mediation after school and I’d come straight here. I spent the entire day avoiding mustard and coffee stains. I had a close call when I snuck a Twix bar in the afternoon, but all in all I came out of school unscathed.

  Still, I’d spent the entire day in these clothes. I hardly looked my best. And I hated how that bothered me.

  I hated that it wasn’t because I wanted to look professional or grown up. I hated that I wanted to look good so Nick could see what he was losing. I wanted him to regret this… to regret losing me.