Текст книги "Forgive Us Our Trespasses"
Автор книги: M. L. Steinbrunn
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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 20 страниц)
Thankfully, Brooks doesn’t follow me. No one does. I climb into my car and sit in the driver’s seat, desperately trying to steady my breathing. Pulling out my cell phone, I text Jen that I’m leaving.
Jen: We’re gathering our stuff. We can leave with u. Do Carly and I need to put into effect Operation Brooks’ Balls Smash before we head out?
Me: No, but thx. I’m ok. I just want to go home and go to bed. U guys just stay and have fun; I’ll see u at the coffee shop in the morning.
Jen: Ok, babe. If ur sure, see u in the am. <3 u!
Me: <3 u 2.
After I text the final message to Jen, I throw my phone into my purse and hail a cab to go home. Everyone is asleep, and I’m able to easily escape to my room once I get home. I don’t even bother changing clothes; I just slip off my shoes and collapse into bed, pulling the duvet over my head.
My hope is that when I wake up, the past four hours will have never existed, and I will get a complete do-over–one that doesn’t include Brooks Ryan.
Vivian
Amanda is planning to take the kids out for breakfast, so I am able to sleep in before getting ready for coffee with the girls. I shower, throw on some yoga pants and a sweatshirt, and toss my wet hair into a messy bun on top of my head. I’m in no mood to impress anyone this morning, and if my guess is correct, I will be the most dressed up of the three of us.
A Scone’s Throw, our favorite little coffee shop, is just a five-minute walk from my house, so I slip into my sneakers, swipe on a little strawberry lip-gloss to complete the look, and start my walk toward what I assume will be a friendly inquisition.
The coffee house is packed to the brim with morning caffeine junkies in need of their espresso fix to function through their various Saturday activities. I wait in line for my white chocolate mocha and raspberry scone, and find that Jen and Carly are already sitting at our usual table in the back of the store.
The scene before me is quite pitiful, and I can only shake my head at the pair as I approach the table. Jen is rubbing her temples, and her eyes are closed like she is trying to meditate her hangover away. Carly, on the other hand, looks as though she has completely given in to hers. Her arms are folded on the tabletop, and her head is resting on her forearms, completely hiding her face from public judgment.
“Wow, I’m glad I left when I did,” I say as I take a seat. “I think I saved myself from the pure hell that it looks like you two are experiencing right now.”
“Shhh, not so loud,” Jen mutters. “I would chop off my own head to save myself from this misery if I could.”
“That bad, huh?” I laugh.
Jen finally opens her eyes, but continues to rub her head. “I’m not as bad as Carly; she threw up for an hour after we got home last night.”
I look over to Carly, who still has not moved. She finally turns her head, remaining on her arms, and croaks out a defense. “True, and Jen wouldn’t even hold my hair back. She just gave me a ponytail holder and bottle of water, and told me ‘good luck with that.’”
“Hey, you both know I’m a sympathetic puker,” Jen insists. “We all know that the caretaker role is your job, Viv. I did the best I could with what I had.”
“Well, if we ever decide to revisit our youth again, I’ll be sure to be available for hair holding and aspirin retrieval,” I tease.
Jen takes a huge gulp of her venti cappuccino and then sits back in her chair, slouching her shoulders to settle in for what will be the inquiry of my life. Carly has since removed her arms from under her head, and has let her face settle on the tabletop, letting her breath fog over the Formica.
“Ok, chica, spill it.”
“It was nothing, guys. Brooks showed up at the bar and asked me to dance. We agreed to disagree on the fact that he’s an asshole, I told him about Will, I had a brief meltdown, and then I left.”
Jen scowls at me, and I can tell that the short version of the story is not going to cut it for her. I sigh, feeling an emotional hangover coming on.
“I don’t want to make a big deal out of it, okay? Besides, I’ll probably never see him again. I said all the things that I needed to say ten years ago but never got the chance to, and now I’m over it. I refuse to let it bother me anymore.”
Finally showing signs of life, Carly pops her head up and props her chin on her palm. “What did you say? Did the piece of shit even care what you had to say?”
“He just said that he was sorry, and that he was trying to protect me.”
“What?” Carly exclaims. “Protect you from what, gonorrhea? Because I wouldn’t doubt it if that slut Amber had some kind of STD.”
“It’s been a freaking decade; I shouldn’t be conflicted by this anymore. I don’t know what it is about him, but for some damn reason, whenever I’m near him, I let my guard down, and time and time again, he just slices me open and lets my heart spill out. The jerk called me Clover; can you believe the nerve?”
Carly and I turn our attention to Jen, who is staring out the window like she has completely zoned out of the conversation. “Really, you have nothing to say Jen? You were the kick-him-the-nuts-mission co-founder last night, and this morning you aren’t going to chime in on this special edition of Brooks bashing?” Carly inquires.
Jen turns her head to looks at us. “Did he really call you Clover?” she quietly asks. Her sullen expression has my nerves on edge.
“Yes, why?” I rasp out slowly.
Jen looks down at the table, refusing to meet my eyes. Her uneasy behavior has me freaking out; my stomach is beginning to tie itself in knots. I slide to the edge of my chair and lean towards her. “What the hell is going on, Jen?” I demand.
She rubs her eyes with the heels of her hands and takes a deep breath. Fuck, I know this move; this is Jen gearing up to shake our world.
“I need to tell you something, but I need you to hear me out before you say anything.”
“Okay, start talking.”
“I’ve kept this secret for a long time. At first, I believed Brooks was protecting you; then when you married Will, I didn’t think it mattered anymore. But things are different now. Will is gone and I know that Brooks loves you; he probably never stopped loving you.”
“What are you talking about? He doesn’t love me; people in love don’t cheat. When you really want someone, you don’t want someone else,” I argue.
“He never cheated, Viv!” Jen shouts, cutting off my rant.
“Um, I’m sorry, did the lemon drops kill one too many brain cells last night? Jen, you were there; we all were. We all saw Amber walk out of his room.” I feel my temper brewing below the surface, and I have to force myself to keep calm and lower my voice.
Giving me a second to recover, Carly begins a round of questioning. “You’re going to have to explain why you think he didn’t cheat, Jen; he never put up even a little bit of a fight.”
Jen lets out a deep exhale, her eyes on me pleading for understanding. “After everything hit the fan, and Will had you settled in your room, I went back to Brooks’ dorm to bitch him out, and possibly punch out a few teeth. When I barged through the door, I found him sitting on the couch crying…crying, Viv. I asked him how he could throw it all away, and he told me he lied. That he set the whole thing up to make it look like he cheated.”
I can’t believe what’s coming out of her mouth; it doesn’t make sense, and I’m starting to feel like my best friend got played.
“Oh, Jen, that sounds absolutely ridiculous. Why would anyone do something like that?” Apparently, Carly and I are on the same page.
“If he didn’t love me and want to be with me, why not just tell me? Why go to all the trouble of breaking my heart? That’s just fucking cruel.”
“I know, Viv. I know. I didn’t understand at first either.”
“Okay, well, explain.”
“He said if you found out who he really was, it would hurt worse than anything he did that night. He said he needed you to stay away from him in order to protect you. He knew that cheating was a deal-breaker for you, but he could never actually go through with being unfaithful to you. He said it was going to be bad enough that he would make you believe he did, and he would lose you. He thought he was keeping you safe from something; I don’t know what he was hiding, but I figured it was bad if he was willing to go to the extent he did to keep it from you.”
Tears are stinging my eyes; my throat begins to tighten, but the rest of my body is numb. I’m in disbelief that my best friend would keep this from me. She saw what he did to me, how long it took me to trust again, to love again. For months, I questioned what was wrong with me. I struggled with the thought that my past had damaged me so badly, that Brooks felt he had to run from me, and that he found me undeserving of his loyalty and love. How could she let me continue to believe that, when with a few words she could have restored my confidence?
“Why?” I struggle with the word, and it’s all I’m able to say. My heart and head are raging a massive war with raw emotions of anger, betrayal, hurt, and, to some degree, relief, churning around me. I feel my face warming, and my stomach is unbearably twisting.
“I’m so sorry, Vivian,” she says, shaking her head, panic written all over her face.
I turn my head away from her; I can’t look at her. “Why?” I repeat.
“He begged me not to tell you the truth; he felt it was best that you stayed away from him. Whatever he was going through would have hurt you, and I believed him. Then once you and Will got together, I thought that you had moved on and it didn’t really matter anymore. I didn’t think that you would ever see him again, and he would just be some asshole ex-boyfriend we could add to the dickhead list.”
“But you knew he would probably be there last night; didn’t you think that that piece of information would have been useful for me to know? I treated him horribly; I said terrible things to him. It’s pretty shitty to find out that I’ve hated him, and wasted this hurt and energy on a fucking lie.”
“When you said that he called you Clover, I knew, Viv. This was never over for him, and he still loves you. I’m sorry; I just couldn’t keep the secret anymore.”
I push my chair back and stand, gathering my satchel and coffee. “I need to go. I’ll text you later; I just can’t talk to you about this right now.”
“Please don’t leave, Vivian. We can’t leave it like this,” Carly interjects. Jen sits quietly with her head down, and it’s just as well; I don’t want to hear anything else she has to say right now.
“I can’t; I promise I’ll call. I just need to be alone right now and process this fucking shit storm that I walked through this morning.”
I fight my way through the remaining coffee crowd and escape through the front doors. Once outside, I let the sunlight hit my face and take in the crisp morning air, appreciating every bit of it as I take long breaths of it into my lungs.
Turning towards home, I slowly begin to make the trek. I let the words rattle around my head until they pound into my skull with every step. He never cheated. Step. He was protecting you. Step. My best friend lied to me. Step, step.
How can karma be this twisted? I must have been a major bitch in a past life; maybe I was an Amber, and this is my reincarnation punishment. Instead of sending her back as a cockroach, nope, send her back as Vivian Matthews and fuck up her shit.
I turn my five-minute walk into thirty, and Amanda’s car is in the driveway by the time I get home. I scrub my hands over my face, clearing away any signs of the tears I shed throughout my excruciating morning. I may fool my munchkins, but my red swollen eyes and runny nose will surely give me away to Amanda, and it’s August, so I can’t exactly blame the weather.
I take a deep breath, clear my mind of the drama, and push open the large mahogany door that will lead me to the two bright stars I have in my cataclysmic mess of life.
“Momma, you’re home!” they shout, running towards me.
I smile, and my world becomes right again, at least for the moment.
Brooks
I’m sitting with my morning coffee on the back deck, letting the voices in my head invade my every thought. I live far enough away from town that I’m allotted a certain amount of solitude, and this morning I’m grateful for it. The sun has just come up over the horizon and the bright pinks of the morning light are a welcome sight to ease my melancholy mood. I don’t usually wake up this early, not since my little girl started sleeping through the night, but my mind has been plagued with the regrets of my past, and it has negatively impacted my sleep.
It’s been a week since I saw Vivian at the reunion, and I have felt every second of those 168 hours. I nearly had to cancel my phone service, or amputate my hands to keep from calling Jen to get her number. Because Jen knows the truth, she’s the only one that wouldn’t maim me for even asking for Vivian’s information. I didn’t expect to feel the way I did when I saw her. In a single moment, the pain I had been running from for all these years came slamming into me.
Vivian was my one, the only woman that I ever wanted to spend my life with. I may or may not have broken down and Facebook-stalked her for the last few days. I felt like I was spying on the life that I should have had with her. Hey, don’t judge me.
I really figured that after this long, Jen would have told her what had really happened between Amber and me, which was absolutely nothing. Needless to say, I was shocked that she still thinks I cheated, and that she hates me.
I’ve spent the last decade trying to avoid the thought of her. I focused on my career, building a successful architectural firm. When it came to women, well, I spent my evenings fucking my way through the tri-state area, trying to let go of the one woman who I couldn’t forget. I used women to dull the pain, numb the remaining shreds of my heart, but nothing worked.
It crushed me to let her go ten years ago, but I really thought I was letting the better man win. Will would never hurt her, and knowing who I was and where I came from was something I don’t think she could have ever forgiven. Losing her only compounded my torment, but it was worth it to know that she was happy and her heart was safe.
But now Will is gone; Will is fucking dead.
“Daddy, can you come snuggle me?” Grace’s sweet voice breaks through my self-deprecating thoughts. She is standing just inside the house, leaning on the doorframe to the deck, snuggled up in her pink fleece blanket, and gripping her favorite stuffed elephant. Her curly raven hair is standing on end; the back, I’m sure, is entirely frizzed, and my only hairstyle option for the day will be a ponytail.
“Sure, Lovebug, go warm up our spot on the couch, and I’ll be there in just a second with Sleeping Beauty.”
“No, Daddy, the mean dragon-lady is scary. I want Cinderella.”
“You got it, baby. I’ll be right there.”
Satisfied with the plan for the morning, she turns and runs into the house to make our couch fort for the movie. No doubt, when I get in there, she will have a full zoo of stuffed animals propped all around the couch to view the family feature.
I slowly peel myself out of the lounge chair and stretch my arms above my head, trying to iron out the kinks in my neck and back. Gathering up my empty coffee cup, I walk back into the house to spend the day with my little girl.
“I have your spot all ready, Daddy,” she says, pulling back the blanket on the couch. I put the DVD into the player and snuggle in next to her.
“Thank you, baby,” I say, and kiss the top of her head as she settles into the crook of my arm. “Gracie, I was thinking that after the movie we could go shopping and get everything you’re going to need for preschool this year. Does that sound like a plan?”
“Okay, Daddy, but you have to promise that I can pick out my own backpack. Last year you made me get that Care Bears bag, and they are not cool. I want a Hello Kitty backpack with sparkles.”
“How do you know what’s cool?”
“I’m four, and four is old enough to know cool, and Care Bears are not cool.”
“Well, all right then. Hello Kitty it is.” I laugh.
“I want a lunchbox, too.”
“Don’t push it, little girl.”
She lets out a little sigh and then shakes her hands excitedly, shushing me when the opening credits come on. We have seen Cinderella more times than I can count, and yes, she makes me sing the songs. I may not sing on key, but I know every damn word, and I figure that’s what counts.
She settles back against my chest, and we enjoy our father/daughter moment. I never thought I would have children unless it was with Vivian, but then I got the surprise of my life, little Grace. I was never with her mother–let me clarify that, I was never in a relationship with Grace’s mom. She was a reoccurring one-night-stand that resulted in an unplanned pregnancy. She didn’t want to have the baby, and well, I did.
I felt that a child could be my chance at redemption. I talked her into having the baby, promising to raise her on my own. She agreed to sign over her rights, but only after I paid her a hefty sum for what she called ‘the destruction of her body.’ I said I fucked quantity, and Grace’s mother goes to show that I didn’t exactly care about the level of quality.
“Grace, I don’t think you need all of these school supplies for preschool. I’m pretty sure they have everything there for you; you just need to take a backpack,” I say as Grace throws another package of glitter pens into the cart.
The child has gone insane in the school supply section of Target. My four-year-old is leading me around on what has become the biggest nerd-shopping spree known to man. I love her to death, but seriously, I was expecting a five-minute in-and-out trip to get her damn Hello Kitty backpack, and maybe splurge on the lunchbox, but I may have to whip out the platinum card for this haul.
Grace steps around the side of the cart, places her hands on her waist, and sticks out her hip in pure attitude mode. Good Lord, if she’s like this now, Heaven help me when she’s thirteen.
“Daddy, you never know what you might need, and what if my teacher gives me homework? I need things at home just in case. We should make me my own office like yours at home. Can we, Daddy? Pleeeease?”
Yeah, how do I argue with that? No matter what kind of a demanding dick I am at work, this little girl dissolves every bit of that hardness, and I’m putty in her hand. What’s worse is I think that she knows it. Dammit.
“Okay, Lovebug, but we need to rein it in a little bit. We have enough markers in the cart to provide a stock pile for the entire school district.”
“Hey, they are different sizes and colors; all of them are important, Daddy!” she exclaims. “How horrible would it be if I needed to draw a picture of the ocean for my teacher, and I didn’t have light blue, only regular blue? You wouldn’t be able to see any of the fish in my picture, and then my teacher would hate it and think that I didn’t know that fish were in the ocean, and then she would hold me back. I wouldn’t get to go to kindergarten! We need them all, Daddy!” Grace’s arms are flailing about in the most animated fashion, and her voice has turned into a high-pitched squeal.
Yep, I totally lost that battle. “No one’s flunking anything, Lovebug. The teacher will know that you know there are fish in the ocean, because I’m sure you’ll tell her plenty of times.”
I sigh, knowing I can’t let her completely win. I refuse to have one of those kids at preschool; you know, the kind that thinks they can have anything. However, I also don’t want to be one of those parents that have to carry his screaming and kicking four-year-old out of Target either, so a compromise is entirely necessary in this situation.
“You can have two boxes of markers, but that is it, Gracie Lou,” I say, holding up two fingers for emphasis.
She huffs a little, and then exhales an extreme, “Fine. I’ll go put them back.”
She gathers up the other boxes and starts around the corner to the next aisle. “I’ll be right behind you; put the markers back where they go, please.” I figure that I can fall behind and clear out the cart a little while she’s not with me. I can hopefully avoid another office supply confrontation.
I swear getting things away from this child is a planned event. I have to smuggle broken toys and crayons out of the house; it’s like our own episode of Child Hoarders.
She ignores me, and as soon as she turns the corner, I begin to gather anything non-essential that I can fit in my arms, and throw the items on the shelves. No, I’m not concerned about how I return the objects, as long as they are out of my cart; desperate times call for desperate measures. I’ll be sure to give an extra thank you to the check-out lady since I just made a mess of the school supply section.
As soon as I’m satisfied with the amount of space I cleared out in the cart, I make my way to the markers, only to find the aisle empty. I see where Grace has dropped off the discarded markers; her mess looks similar to mine. “Grace,” I call out, trying not to panic. Grace is usually pretty good about not wandering off, so for her not to be here puts my stomach into knots.
I walk quickly down the aisle, my low tone turning into a holler, “Grace, where are you?” I stop suddenly in my tracks when I hear her little voice conversing with the only other voice that has been burned into my memory. I pause to listen to the conversation, enjoying the moment that I wish would have been my reality all along.
“So, Care Bears are not cool anymore, huh?” Vivian asks my little girl.
“No, I told my Daddy that I needed a Hello Kitty bag this year. He’s going to buy me all kinds of stuff today for school.” Good Lord, I never had a chance.
“Well, what a lucky little girl you are. Where are your mommy and daddy, sweetheart?”
“He was right behind me; he’s probably trying to sneak some of my stuff out of the cart,” she explains.
Well shit, how do I have a toddler that is one-step ahead of me? There’s only one of me; that doesn’t seem quite fair.
“Well, I think we should go find him so he’s not worried.”
I know that my opportunity for eavesdropping is over, so I turn the corner to see a sight that I only could have dreamed of. Grace is holding Vivian’s hand, smiling up at her. Holding Grace’s other hand is a little girl with adorable blonde tendrils that bounce as she moves, and on the opposite side of Vivian stands a little boy who looks just a little older than the girls. Fuck, I wish this was my life, that this was my family.
“Munchkin, you left me behind. You were supposed to be by the markers,” I tell her. I strain not to smile at Vivian’s incredulous expression. She is clearly surprised to not only see me, but I’m guessing that she was not expecting me to be a father. Yeah, join the club.
Grace looks to me, unsure of how to explain herself; she then looks to Vivian to help bail her out.
“Um, I’m sorry, we were just going to go look for you. She was telling me all about the backpack she’s getting for school,” Vivian clarifies.
“Thank you for taking care of her, Vivian,” I tell her before turning my attention to Grace. “Looks like you found an ally, Lovebug. Don’t run off like that again though; do you understand? That’s not safe.”
Grace nods her head and steps forward to give me a hug. I pat her back and mouth ‘thank you’ once again to Vivian. She whispers ‘you’re welcome’ and smiles at me, the same smile that turned my world upside-down so many times in the past.
“We haven’t finished picking out our backpacks; would you guys like to help us?” Vivian asks, and then introduces her crew. “Brooks, this is my daughter, Emma, and my son, Blake. Em is in preschool too, and Blake will be starting kindergarten this year.”
“Well, guys, we would love some help picking something out; apparently I’m not up-to-date on what is hip.” I wrap my arm around Grace, pulling her into my side to tickle her. “Grace here has informed me that I need assistance in the cool factor area.”
I see Vivian’s eyes widen when she hears the name of my daughter. I never told Grace who she was named after, just that it was for someone that I cared for. The shocked realization stretches all over Vivian’s face, and the faint blush that is extending up her neck proves her unease with the situation.
“Grace, it’s very nice to meet you; that is a very pretty name you have.” The last bit is directed straight at me, and I can feel the heat of her glare.
“Thank you. My daddy named me after someone special, and he said that he wants me to grow up and be just as wonderful and beautiful as her one day.”
Vivian’s face softens, and the corners of her lips begin to curl up. When she bends down to meet Grace’s eye level, I hear her whisper in her ear, “You already are beautiful and wonderful, Ms. Grace.” When she pulls away, I can see the tears in her eyes.
When I gave Grace Vivian’s middle name, I really had never thought they would ever meet. Seeing these two together now, the girl of my past and the little girl of my present, I realize that I need to do whatever it takes to have both of them in my future.
I smile at Vivian and reach for her hand, hoping that she doesn’t pull away. I don’t think I could handle her rejection. The things she said at the reunion last week stung like hell. Knowing that she still believes the lie I told her nearly a decade ago, I don’t blame her for hating me, but dammit if I don’t want to tell her the truth and make her love me again.
I can’t help but hold my breath, waiting for her to deliberate on whether or not being near me is a good decision. Relief floods my system when she allows her hand to meet mine, and I weave our fingers together. This is where her hand should be, where it always should have been–wrapped in mine.
