I woke up once during the night. I blinked awake on the wrong side of the bed with Nick’s arms still holding me to him and his legs, hot and heavy, slotted between mine. His head had pulled back from mine, presumably so he could breathe without my hair suffocating him in his sleep, but I could still feel the steady beat of his heart on my back and his hips tucked against mine, fitting exactly right.
I had a sharp, concentrated moment of panic as the reality of our actions set in. Ice cold lucid thought jerked me awake and kept me there. I felt hysterical laughter bubble in my chest, but I swallowed it down.
How did this keep happening to us?
And why had I ever thought it was a good idea for him to sleep over?
There might actually be something wrong with me.
I lay as still as possible, terrified of waking him. I tried to talk myself through my meltdown, tried to rationalize and reason my way out of it. But I couldn’t.
What we did was going to permanently screw things up between us.
We had mediation in three days.
Oh, my god, he was going to bring up the possibility of being pregnant again.
I thought I would be sick.
I focused on the night sky. I hadn’t closed my blinds tonight because Nick and I hadn’t really been thinking about those things. The stars spread from one side of my vantage to the other, glittering like diamonds on a background of onyx and indigo. The crescent moon hung like a pendant in the middle. Its milky glow stretched and spun in the tranquil sky, turning wispy clouds to gold. I concentrated on those things.
I steadied out my breathing, letting the calming rhythm of Nick’s heart soothe me back to sleep. His body was deliciously warm. He’d covered us with the comforter after I fell asleep and our mingled body heat had become something extreme, but it felt amazing.
He felt amazing.
Choosing to put off my panic till morning, I closed my eyes once again and drifted off.
By the time I woke the second time, he was awake behind me. I could feel his body twitching, his general awakeness intruding on my slumber.
I blinked at the same sky that had sung me to sleep the night before, but the moon and stars were gone, replaced by a soft violet and dusky gray. The sun hadn’t risen yet. It was still very early. But Nick was awake and I knew, before I’d even opened my eyes, that our night was over… that it was time to face our actions.
I let myself stir and stretch lazily against him. I couldn’t quite give this up yet. Just a few more minutes, I promised myself.
“Happy birthday, Kate,” he said with his sleep-roughened voice. His fingers surprised me by lightly running down my hip. “How did you sleep?”
How did I sleep? It was probably better if I didn’t answer that question. It would only confuse both of us. Instead, I dropped my hand over my mouth and mumbled, “I need to brush my teeth.”
“Me too,” I could hear the grin in his voice. “But we’ve been married for almost eight years, Katie. Can’t it wait another minute?”
Still hiding my mouth, I narrowed my eyes and demanded, “Why?”
“We should talk.”
“Why?”
His low laugh vibrated in his chest. “Last night…”
“Was a mis-”
The tension that rocketed through his body was so strong that I fell silent before he could cut me off. “Don’t say it.”
“Nick-”
“Goddamn, Kate” he muttered. “Are you kidding me?”
I scrambled to sitting, yanking the covers with me. We were both starkly naked and I flushed from head to toe, realizing I was about to launch into an argument with him while I wasn’t even wearing underwear.
There was something wrong with my mouth that it just couldn’t shut up and be quiet.
But I couldn’t listen to what he had to say either. I couldn’t go through that just because my boobs were everywhere.
“We’re in the middle of a divorce!” I pointed out. “We have mediation in three days, Nick! What were we thinking?”
“Maybe we thought the divorce was a stupid idea. Maybe we thought we couldn’t keep our hands off each other!”
I sucked in a gasping breath and swayed with dizziness. I couldn’t… I couldn’t grasp his words. I couldn’t make them concrete thoughts and ideas in my head. They danced in the air outside of my reach, taunting me... laughing at me.
“Is that what you think?” I asked breathlessly. For a second I thought I might faint. I shook my head, desperate to find my senses. “Do you think the divorce is a stupid idea?”
His shoulders fell with defeat. “It was your idea, I… I just…”
My emotions took a sickening twist and my head spun again. “You’re blaming me?” Hot tears pushed against my lashes. “This is my fault?”
“I’m not blaming you,” he stated firmly. “I’m just trying to think. God, Kate, there are times when I think you hate me. When I think you would do anything to get rid of me. And then… then there’s last night. And all of the other times like it. I have never been more alive than when I’m with you.”
I sat up straighter. “Nick, you’re still blaming me. I’m the reason we’re getting a divorce. I’m the reason we don’t work! I’m the reason your life is miserable or not miserable or I don’t know what! Was last night all my fault too?”
He abruptly sat up. The blanket fell to his lap, hiding his important bits but exposing inches of smooth, muscled skin. His tousled chestnut hair fell over his forehead as he leaned into me. He had never been more beautiful, an angry Adonis rampaging for vengeance.
“I’m not blaming you for everything. I’m… I’m trying to make sense of this. And I need you to figure out what the hell you want. Is it me, Kate? Or is it this?” His arm flung wide, gesturing at the room. “Without me?”
“We’re in the middle of a divorce,” I repeated, but this time it was broken. This time it held the years of pain and hurt and heartache. “We’re in the middle of a divorce.”
He jumped from the bed as if it burned him to share the same space as me. “You’ve made that abundantly clear.” He gave me his back and naked bum and tore into the closet. I watched in horror as he opened drawers, then slammed them closed.
Tears streaked down my face, wetting the sheets I held tightly around my torso. “What are you doing?”
“Going home,” he growled. “Then I’m going to shower. Then I’m going to work.” His eyes flashed to mine, searing me from where he yanked on old running shorts. “What are you doing?”
“Nick,” I sobbed. He waited. He stood there in his shorts and tousled hair, his jaw ticking with anger and pain and scars that I gave him, scars that I ripped open, and he waited for me to say what it was I wanted to say. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
I winced with frustration. “For this.” I waved at the room. “For the divorce.” I sniffled back a flood of tears. “For last night.”
He stalked into the room, his feet moving with determination and his body so filled with tension I felt it vibrating off him in waves. He hovered over the edge of the bed. I could smell him. I could almost touch him. His voice pitched low and serious. “I’m not sorry,” he declared. “Not for any of it.”
He gave me one more scorching glare, then turned around and left. His loud footsteps took the stairs at a clipped pace. There was silence for a minute and I could picture him yanking on the rest of his clothes. Then the door opened and slammed behind him.
I was alone- truly alone. And all I wanted to do was chase him down and drag him back to my room. I wanted to lock him in here until these feelings went away, until this fissure in my heart stopped tearing me apart.
I broke down and cried after that. I cried for a very long time. Then I called into work, explaining about my dog, but not about my husband.
Then I lay down again and cried all the way through my birthday.
Eventually, the vet called. Annie made it through the night. She was going to be okay
.
But even Annie’s good news couldn’t soften the blow to my heart or the eclipsing truth that I’d made a very big mistake.
If only I could figure out which of my mistakes was the right one to regret.
Last night?
Or the divorce…?
Chapter Twenty-Three
30. I can’t let him go.
Three days later, on the morning of our next mediation, I prayed for the flu.
When I did not immediately start puking, I prayed for an earthquake. When that didn’t work, I prayed for a tornado. Then an alien invasion.
And finally, a zombie plague.
Then I decided I should probably stop wishing thousands of people had to die just so I could skip seeing Nick again.
It wasn’t that I wanted thousands of people to die or a zombie pandemic to sweep the globe. Not really. I just thought, maybe it was more favorable than coming face-to-face with a man that was so pissed off at me, I felt like my entire house needed cleansing.
I pulled up Google on my phone. Was it possible to hire a witch doctor to hoodoo the shit out of my house and at the same time give me a non-life-threatening trip to the emergency room?
Chicago area witch doctors.
My phone rang, changing the screen to Kara’s name. I answered with a sigh. “Hey.”
“You sound glum.”
I decided it was better to go with the truth. “The only witch doctors Google pulled up are on LinkedIn. I swore to myself I would never get a LinkedIn profile. I don’t care how many emails they send me a day.”
“You’ve lost your mind,” she laughed. “You’re officially crazy.”
“I’m not crazy,” I argued. “I just want the flu or maybe malaria. Typhoid would be fine.”
There were thirty seconds of complete silence before Kara recovered. “Please don’t bring typhoid to school with you. I’m not sure if our health plan covers typhoid.”
“If I find the right witch doctor, you’re not going to have to worry about a thing. It will be an isolated incident. I just decided that I don’t really want to kill thousands of people.”
“Kate?”
“Yeah?”
“As your therapist, I’m going to need you to separate yourself from your delusions and tell me five real things that happened in your life this morning.”
Surprised laughter bubbled up inside me and I started to feel just the tiniest bit better. “Unfortunately you’re not my therapist. Also, does that work with your students?”
“How should I know? I just made that shit up.”
“I’m impressed.”
“Thanks! But if we’re honest, most of what I use is made up.”
“Wow, K. Summa cum laude from Northwestern is really coming in handy, huh?”
She let out a dramatic sigh, “I do what I can.” With a delicate throat clear she added, “And it was magna cum laude. I was off by three-tenths of a point.”
“My apologies.”
“You are forgiven.” Another pause. “Are you coming to school today?”
“No.”
“Mediation?”
“Yes.”
“This is your second sick day this week.”
“This one was planned.”
She made a tsking sound with her tongue and then said, “Give him hell.”
It was my turn to fidget nervously. I hadn’t told Kara any of the drama with Nick other than he had come to the vet when Annie got hit and taken me home. But I could tell she knew something went down. She had been giving me funny looks all week. I also knew she was holding her tongue for my sake, but part of me had wanted her to demand to know what went on.
I was dying to tell someone. I wanted to hear an outside opinion. I wanted her advice, her perspective, her curse words.
But I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. Instead of blurting out what had happened, I kept it locked tightly inside of me. I felt like I had to protect it… protect Nick. Even if Kara would have ended up on his side of the argument, I was reluctant to put our marriage, or what was left of it, on trial.
I was tired of other people’s opinions. I was tired of looking elsewhere for answers and ignoring the strong, still voice inside me.
I was sick and tired of dissecting every single thing that Nick did wrong and giving it to a jury of my peers to decide how to feel for me.
I needed to figure this out for myself. And fast.
When I didn’t respond to Kara, she backed off and said, “Or give him really polite, pleasant discussion.”
I laughed, despite the seriousness of my thoughts. “I’m honestly not sure what he’s going to get out of me today. I guess I’ll decide when I get there.”
She gasped, “You don’t mean the house? Not Annie. You really have lost your mind. Oh, my god, did you already call the witch doctor?”
“Stop,” I laughed. “You’re the crazy one. Not me.”
“I trust you, Kate. You know that I do. But this year has been emotionally draining for you. I just don’t want to see you get hurt because you’re tired. Promise me, you’ll be careful today… that you’ll think everything through? Even if it’s hard and you don’t feel up to it?”
Now those were some words I could live by. “I promise.” And I meant it. I would do exactly as she asked. “Thanks for being such a good friend.”
“Mwah! Love you. Good luck today.”
“Thanks. Love you too.”
We disconnected and I felt marginally better.
Marginally.
As in just barely.
Most of me was still a pile of nerves and sweating pits.
I had taken the day off because I was tired of rushing into mediation after school and I was tired of mediation affecting my teaching and thoughts and general motor functions all day long.
So today I took it easy. Annie still needed twenty-four-hour care, so she had spent the last couple days with my parents while I taught. I was going to pick her up after mediation today and keep her for the weekend.
For all of their faults, my parents were really good with her. I knew she was in good hands and they were surprisingly good-willed about keeping her for me.
I hadn’t told Nick about it because I wasn’t quite sure what he would have said.
Just kidding, I was terrified he would demand to keep her.
And also, I was just terrified of talking to him.
So I didn’t.
And he hadn’t tried to reach out to me.
It stung a little that he hadn’t called or stopped by. Okay, more than a little. It hurt deeply. I was embarrassed and heartbroken and a million other things I didn’t even want to name. But I also knew that it wasn’t his responsibility to forever chase after me.
As much as I wanted to be chased.
He was right; I had to figure this out.
I had to decide what I wanted. And in the meantime I had to go to mediation and fight with him over who gets the dog.
What had I done to my life?
Mediation was scheduled for early afternoon, so I took the morning to laze around the house. I ate breakfast, an actual breakfast. Not just coffee. I actually made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
I took my time getting ready, dressed carefully, paid attention to my makeup and hair. It wasn’t that I was trying to impress Nick more than usual; I just never had this much time in the morning.
Usually I was a whirlwind of the fastest blow dry in the history of hair, a quick brush of foundation and some swipes of mascara before I jabbed earrings in, slipped on work-appropriate clothes and grabbed coffee on my sprint through the door.
This morning I sipped coffee on my couch while watching the Today Show and got ready without stress. I made sure all of my hair dried and I added bronzer and blush to my makeup routine.
So basically I was almost late for mediation because it took so long to get ready.
My official prognosis? Being a woman was officially the worst.
There were way to
o many steps to just looking halfway decent. Men had it so easy.
Mediation was back at Ryan Templeton’s office. Mr. Cavanaugh had hosted the last failed session in his smaller office tucked away on the outskirts of the city proper. It had been a stark deviation from the expensive, swanky suites in the heart of downtown, but I had felt more at ease there. I hadn’t minded the faded furniture or scuffed conference table.
Mr. Cavanaugh had offered coffee and pastries. I’d had two. Ryan Templeton offered expensive bottled water and no snacks. These offices were meant to impress… meant to intimidate.
And they did that in spades.
I checked in with the security guard and walked slowly to the elevator. I felt nervous energy gaining momentum and I wasn’t quite sure what would come of it. I had no idea what I was thinking or what I would say upstairs. My mind was a tornado of confusion. Spinning and spinning and spinning.
To add paranoia to my already agitated nerves, this session felt final for some reason. I couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever we decided or said here would be permanent and lasting.
I felt equal parts sick to my stomach and anxious. I leaned against the back wall of the empty elevator and closed my eyes. My arms were crossed over my chest, holding my body in a tightened cocoon of protection. I couldn’t relax or I would fall apart. I had to physically hold myself together or I would splinter into a thousand unfixable pieces.
Someone else entered the elevator before the doors could shut and my eyes popped open, surprised and not surprised at the same time.
Nick.
I could sense his presence before I saw him. It was something in his energy that was inexplicably tied to mine. I felt him in the atmosphere, in the very atoms dancing in the air around us. I could smell him. Feel the heat of his body even from several feet apart.
Okay, maybe not in the real sense of the word, but I knew the feel so intimately that I could easily imagine the sensation of his body heat warming me, pressing into my skin, turning everything inside me into molten lava.
Every Wrong Reason Page 25