“I’ll never forgive him,” he says bitterly wringing his hands together.
I sit beside him on the stairs. “I know you’re angry, and I cannot imagine what you’re feeling right now, but I have to know where we go from here?” My voice is shaking and reveals every nerve in it. He lifts his head, and I make my eyes meet his. At first, I expect his eyes to be hard and angry, but they’re not. They’re the same soft green I used to see, and the tightness in my chest goes away briefly.
“I don’t know,” he shakes his head and puts his head between his legs. I put my arm around his back and lean my head on his. Our fingers intertwine, and he grips mine back.
“You have every right to be angry, but you can’t let this anger and hate consume you. Don’t let it change you, please,” I tell him quietly. His previous limp body stiffens, and his hand releases mine. He stands abruptly and when he turns around the tightness in my chest is back. The soft green eyes that were just there are still the same in color, but his stare is hard and his faced locked into a scowl.
“So it’s okay for Cal to be pissed off and hate the world but it’s not okay for me to be upset?” he asks, defensiveness radiating off of him. My mouth drops open, and I’m so surprised I don’t know what to say.
“T-that’s not what I meant?”
“That is what you meant. It’s okay for him to fly off the handle, to even try to kill someone—but me—I get angry with my asshole father who screwed my best friend and lied about it for years, and it’s a problem!” He’s yelling and his face is red. I press my lips together to try to keep from saying the wrong thing. Chris has never talked to me like this.
“I-I didn’t say that! That’s not what I mean I just…” I stand and touch his chest and he backs away from me as if I have the plague.
“Then tell me. What did you mean?” He shouts, and I can feel my hands trembling.
“I only meant that…” I’m at a loss of what to say. The glare he’s giving me makes me think whatever I say won’t be the right thing.
“My dad is a cheating selfish asshole, but he was right. I’ll always be the consolation prize. I’ll never be good enough for you!” I feel tears in my eyes, sadness battling against anger because of his icy tone. My emotions battle against my better judgment and I want to lash out at him, to yell at him for questioning my love.
“You want to fight right now?” I ask him angrily, feeling a tear slide down my cheek. He scoffs at me. I storm into the guest bathroom and pull out the handheld mirror I keep there and stomp over to him and put it in his face. “That’s who you are fighting with!
“I am not going to do this with you. I am not going to be your verbal punching bag. I can’t, no. I won’t do it! I love you. I love every single part of you. So yes, I love Cal. I even love Collin. I’m sorry if that upsets you, if you’re going to punish me for that, if you’re going to hate me for it, but I don’t know what else to tell you. This is not a contest! I want you—the whole man—for our marriage, for our daughter. I don’t want one of you over the other, so let’s just get that out of the way right now!”
His scowl is still there, my heart is beating fast, but it feels like a piano just got off my chest. The truth is out, and I hope he gets it. I hope that he doesn’t take it the wrong way, but I cannot keep doing this with him. I cover my face with my hands. I want him to say something but the silence in the room is heavy, and his footsteps that follow it are almost devastating as I hear them quiet in the distance. He’s walking away from me, without a word, without a hint of what his response is. My head is hurting so badly to think about the pain that this is causing both of us. I’m going to bed, and will try to get some sleep and hope that my husband is still here when I wake up.
When I open my eyes, I see that it’s dark out. My eyes glide to the alarm clock on my dresser and see that it’s 7:20 pm and I’ve slept almost the whole day away. It makes sense since I’ve gotten almost no sleep over the past few days. I climb out of bed and rub my hands down my face. I went to bed frustrated and angry after the blowup with Chris, and in that moment I didn’t care where he went and if he’d be here when I woke up. Now dread wrapped around worry has crept in and I realize there’s a possibility that he may not be here. It subsides when I hear the shower running in the bathroom. I walk into the bathroom and brush my teeth glancing back at the steamed glass clouding my vision of him. I grab my phone off the sink that I don’t remember leaving in here, and dial Mrs. Scott’s number. I’m a little relieved when it goes to voicemail because I don’t know what to say to her, but I’m also disappointed because I don’t get to talk to Caylen. It’s been two days since she’s heard my voice or her father’s, and I miss her terribly.
“Hey, Mrs. Scott, just calling to check in and talk to Caylen….” I sigh not knowing what else to say. When am I going to tell her? Should Caylen be here while—whatever this can be labeled as—is happening?
“Tell Caylen that I love her, and I’ll see her soon. Just dealing with… Actually just call me when you get this message. Thank you so much again.” Mrs. Scott has been a godsend, even in the midst of all the chaos that’s in her own life; she has been so supportive of us. She said that Caylen has been a welcome distraction.
I lean back on the counter and realize it’s been so long since I’ve shared a bathroom with my husband. The last time he was here he used the guest room. My heart skips a beat because Chris has never used this shower. I inch closer to the shower and let out a small breath as I open the door, and the steam spills out. He doesn’t turn around, but I admire him from behind. His body is still perfect, created with the greatest skill to be the desire of any woman that lays eyes on it.
“Are you coming in?” His voice almost stills my heart because now I can’t tell them apart. Is it Chris or Cal? I won't lie and say in this second that I care. I strip out of my clothes and stand outside a few seconds before heading in. I close the door and step to the other side of the shower. The heat warms me, the humidity is almost like a drug. In here it’s like the outside world doesn’t exist, and for a moment it’s just him and me. In this space our problems are absent. I watch as soap and bubbles pour down his body, and I take in a breath sitting down on the bench in our shower letting the water wash over me. The sound of the water hitting the tile is hypnotic and I close my eyes and rest my head on the wall. I have the urge to say something, but I don’t want to say anything, I don’t want to ruin this moment, where I can pretend that things are okay and normal and I’m just in the shower with my husband. I want my husband to speak to me, to touch me and it seems so stupid in the midst of what’s going on but I’m relapsing, wanting to go back to when Cal could make everything better with his touch, make me forget with just his kiss. Whoever this is, is ignoring me completely.
“I think we should go back to Madison and be with your mom,” I blurt out quickly, and without much thought, but he doesn’t flinch. I hoped his response would clue me in to his mood.
“I miss Caylen.” My voice breaks, and tears begin to materialize.