by Bates, Aiden
In particular, he had championed this philosophy when my ‘scandal’ involving Chris was the hot news item in town. Ignore them, Rance had advised repeatedly. They will find a juicier story somewhere else and leave you alone. I remember thinking that it was useless advice, not least because it came from a man who had never been involved in a scandal of any sort, and whose image was so pristine the media straight up worshipped him. I also remember waiting impatiently for the story to die down, for people to stop throwing side glances at me everywhere I went. And I remember the relentless coverage that never stopped until I had to leave.
The world was taking its time moving on from Scandal 2.0. There was now a group of reporters and photographers who had taken to camping outside my house 24/7. They were always there, lurking behind bushes and hiding behind walls, waiting to catch me unguarded. Dad and Mother had tried suggesting I move back to Los Angeles with them, but I did not want to. I was done running. Unless something drastic happened, I was not going to give them the satisfaction of kicking me out of my own home.
The initial buzz had faded, but there was still the odd story on me every now and then in online blogs. There was even an online community that had formed, calling itself the ‘Syler Shippers’, which was very critical of the whole business with the media storm, and whose main objective was to ‘reunite the two lovers’.
Kyler’s departure had definitely thrown some fuel into the dying embers of the story. It had been three weeks, and once the news broke out, that became the headline. It was a validation, more than anything else, that everything they had said was true. It was clearly a better story if I could be painted as the monster who had used and duped an innocent kid. Of course, they were not wrong. I was a monster. I had duped Kyler.
Another lesson I had learned from my dad was that time had a way of revealing what was important to you.
I could not believe how different I was now from the man who had signed up for Mail Misters. That guy had been more concerned about the money than anything else. Now, I couldn’t care less. After the initial blowout, my dad and I had sat down and talked it out. He apologized for the position he had put me in, but he also insisted that what I did was wrong. I did not disagree. I expected the trust fund to be off the table. And I was okay with that.
The thing I kept coming back to, the thing I realized I valued above all else, was Kyler. The paparazzi, the relentless media coverage… It all meant nothing. I could bear it all, if only I had Kyler to weather the storm with me. But I did not have Kyler anymore, and every day the reminder of that hit me like a blow to the gut.
I missed him terribly.
I had taken to sending him text messages, partly because I was afraid to call him. Afraid and embarrassed. I wanted so badly to hear his voice. I longed for our quick-fire banter, his impossibly sharp tongue and his ability to joke about everything and anything. I texted him almost four times a day, something I was deeply ashamed about. At first, it was simple apologies. I did not want to get into it via text, so I sent short messages explaining that I was sorry, and asking him to give me a chance to apologize to him in person. They all went unanswered, yet I was sure he was receiving them. Growing more desperate, I kicked it up a notch. I told him I loved him, that I always had, and that the contract meant nothing to me. Not nearly as much as he did. I kept holding back, because I wanted to unburden myself face to face. Somehow, it did not feel like anything I said through the phone would have as much weight.
Now that he was gone, life had taken on a gray tinge, and I found it tedious and uninspiring. I took no joy in doing anything, and I quickly realized I would be unable to return to the sham of a life I had lived before him. There was no life without him. I texted him that, too, thinking that if I was soppy and sentimental enough I could nudge him into responding. He never did.
Slowly, the story began to die down. The small groups of people around my house started thinning, until one day I looked out the window and there were no more reporters. I took to checking the papers and online publications every day after that, and I was happy to see that there was no longer any mention of me or Kyler. I guess my dad was right after all.
But the best and final gift arrived courtesy of Rance himself. I had suspected he had something to do with the decreasing popularity of the story, and he all but confirmed it in the package he sent me one morning.
Apparently, Rance had hired a private investigator to look into the source of the story. He did not believe Chris had been the one behind it, so he had made several phone calls to some of his friends in the media in an attempt to find out what really happened.
The package he contained an envelope with a couple of documents. The first was a transcribed interview, between the reporter who had broken the story and a woman whose identity was hidden. Once I read the interview, however, I knew right away who the woman was. The reporter had clearly used her as his main source. Apparently, she had seen me with Kyler several times, and gotten verbal confirmation that we were married. She had even quoted Kyler himself, telling her he was off to get married and showing up weeks later in the company of none other than Saul McCormick himself.
Nurse Rachael Ingram. Korbin’s attending caregiver at the facility. She was the only one who interacted with both Kyler and me, and the only person who had seen me up close except for the doctor.
The package also contained a selection of other documents. The investigator had been thorough. Apparently, Nurse Rachael had sold the information to the media in exchange for a tidy sum of money. Soon after the death of Korbin, she had been fired from Cranberry Woods. She had a hefty mortgage to pay and was a single mother, so she had needed some quick cash. It also made sense that she had known where we lived. The initial contract I had made Kyler sign stipulated that he could only tell two people where he was going, and it wasn’t hard to guess that Rachael was one of them. He would not have trusted Korbin with that information. Not in his condition.
And so the mystery was solved, and the true culprit identified. Dad wanted us to sue the nurse, and was already looking into the legal ramifications of what she had done. But I found, as was happening more and more with me, that I did not care about her. I wasn’t about to judge someone else for doing something desperate for money when I was guilty of the same thing.
Kyler. That was all I cared about, and anything that did not help me get him back was a waste of my time.
After he left, I had moved to one of the guest rooms. I could not bear to sleep in my bed, as his scent was all over everything. I turned it into something of a shrine. I would go in and lay down on the bed, in that cloud of scent and memory, and my heart would break with how much I missed him. The memories would assail me, and I would remember everything we had done in that bed.
I loved him. There could be no doubt about it now. Not that there had been doubt before. But I was no longer afraid of what I felt for him. I embraced it, accepted it as fact. A few weeks ago I would never have said it out loud. Now, I would run through an airport, shouting it to anyone who would hear me. I needed to figure out a way to get him back.
One of the first things I did was reread the contract I had made him sign. It was comical really, how adamant I had been to remain closed off. It was more impressive how Kyler had managed to cut through the bullshit and carve a path straight to my heart. I never had a chance.
I ripped the contract up and burned the tiny little pieces. The act itself was cathartic, even if it had no real significance without Kyler there.
After that, it was easy enough to come up with a plan. I had to go to him, in that cliché Hollywood way we liked to joke about. I had to give him the romcom treatment.
I was fairly certain Kyler was staying with Jess. On the day he left, Dave had confessed to me that he had driven Kyler to Redvale. No doubt he had called the only person who would help him out in that situation, and there was only one person who could; Jess.
Once the plan was in place, all that was left was execution.
I stood in front of a mirror for a long time the night before the D day. Kyler liked the rugged look, but it was part of an identity I no longer felt represented who I was. I was not the polished, clean-shaven Hollywood wannabe from years back, and I wasn’t the rugged caveman he had first met. I was a new man altogether, and I needed my appearance to reflect that.
I settled on cutting my hair and trimming my beard, all the way from Revenant Leo DiCaprio to Django Unchained DiCaprio, which I remembered was one of the first things he had said to me.
I called my pilot and informed him we would be flying out to L.A. the following morning.
I picked out my best suit, one I had not worn in years and which I was surprised to find still fit me.
There was only one thing left to do.
I could hear my mother smiling through the phone when I called her.
“You were right, Mother. He IS the one.”
“Oh, darling! That is wonderful! Did you just figure it out?”
“I think I’ve always known. I was just in denial, and I did not want to admit it to myself or anyone else. I know it started out as a fake marriage, but I really fell for him.”
“It sneaks up on you, doesn’t it?”
“It really does. I think I understand now what you meant about you and dad.”
“I’m happy you finally got there, darling. Really. I told you all you had to do was give someone a chance.”
“What if it doesn’t work out, Mother? Kyler isn’t speaking to me. He hasn’t responded to any of my messages.”
She was the only person I could voice that fear to. It was a relief, just saying it out loud.
“Messaging? That’s what you’ve been doing? After all this time in the woods, and you’re still overly reliant on technology. You need to do it the right way, son. You have to make your case to him in person. All you can do is try. I know he loves you. He wouldn’t be this hurt if he did not. Get him to listen, and the rest will come.”
Of course. I had expected her to say something along those lines. It was good to get the seal of approval from her regardless.
“In that case, I need one thing from you, Mother.”
“What?”
“You know grandma’s ring? The one with the inlaid rubies and the infinite loop? Would you mind terribly if I borrowed it?”
21
Kyler
After the second week of being unable to keep any food down, I finally agreed to see a doctor. Jess was already jumping up and down with excitement at the possibility of me being pregnant. Personally, I was terrified. I couldn’t help feeling that the timing was terrible. A few weeks ago, a baby would have been a perfect gift. Right now, it was a reminder of what Saul had done to get me there.
The doctor confirmed that I was indeed pregnant, and immediately started me on vitamins and nutrients.
My body started to change in the third week. The morning sickness persisted, and I was soon unable to eat anything without puking it right back up. I also began to experience sudden, wild mood swings. One minute I would be happy and carefree, the next I would be wallowing in self-pity and misery. Jess was thrilled at this, because she felt I could finally understand what it felt to be a girl. I wasn’t so crazy about it. Wild mood swings also meant random bursts of emotion. I would wake up thinking about Saul, and the memory would make me regret how things had ended. Those were the moments I got closest to texting him back, but I always pulled back before I did. Or I would wake up seething, and remembering what he had done to me would fill me with rage.
I was sure I was a nightmare to be around, but Jess was enjoying every minute of it. She had bought me a small bucket she kept beside me at all times. She had named it my ‘Chuck Bucket’, and I couldn’t argue with the name or its usefulness. She took care of all my meals, and never once got offended when I puked shortly after. “The baby is a choosy SOB,” she would say. “We just have to figure out what it is he likes.”
She took me out on walks around the block, because the doctor had advised me to maximize the exercise I got during the pregnancy.
Most importantly, though, she turned me into her muse. Apparently, my pregnancy was a godsend for her. It gave her an idea for a project; a collection of professionally done photos highlighting the stages of a male pregnancy. She wanted to chart it from the onset, so she took hundreds of photos of me every other day. There were no noticeable changes just yet. My body was adjusting to the pregnancy, but it had only been a month, and most of the symptoms were internal. Like incessant puking and wild mood swings.
I loved the whole thing; trying out and posing in different outfits, recreating some of the more iconic pregnancy shoot photos.
All of which took Saul off my mind, at least when I was awake.
My dreams were another matter entirely. In them, I seemed incapable of lying to myself. And the truth was that I missed Saul. I missed our life, I missed our house, and I missed spending time with him. I imagined him scurrying around the house, making me food and taking care of me. I wanted that so badly it hurt just to think about it. I wanted my hubby back, and I hated myself for it.
And then one day, I was returning from the store, and there was a hold-up at the entrance to the apartment.
I saw the procession from a distance, and I rolled my eyes at the display. There was a limousine, making its way slowly down the street, flanked and led by a band playing trumpets. The limo was decked in over the top fashion, with flowers and streaming banners on the side. As it crawled down the street, several people stopped to watch, some laughing and pointing, others pulling out their phones excitedly and recording.
The limousine came to a stop right outside the apartment building where Jess and I lived. I had been about to open the door, but instinctively, I backed into the wall, using the shadow to hide myself.
I stood on tiptoe, curious to see where this was going.
The band struck up a slow ballad. The top of the limo slid open, and a man popped up from inside.
I did not recognize him at first, because the beard was gone. Not all gone, though. Trimmed. He looked handsome and suave and very polished, and I instantly forgot that I was mad at him. And that he was not supposed to be here.
He pulled out a megaphone from the car and switched it on. The feedback echoed across the open space and down the street. He put it to his mouth and spoke clearly.
“Kyler! I’m sorry I don’t know exactly which apartment is Jess’s, but I know you’re in there!”
The street was beginning to fill with people.
“Kyler?”
I realized suddenly that he had attempted to recreate the iconic limo scene from Pretty Woman. We had talked about those big moments in romantic comedies when the relationship has been splintered, and the only way for the love interest to get the protagonist back is to stage an elaborate public intervention, usually involving a chase through an airport. He knew I loved romantic comedies and their absurdities. Whatever this was, he had planned it impress me.
After calling my name unsuccessfully a few more times, the front door opened, and Jess rushed out of the building, still in her sleeping shorts. The whispers around the street got louder; the crowd assumed Jess was the intended recipient of the romantic gesture.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” she said, loudly enough for the whole street to hear. There was no humor in her voice, and there could be no mistaking her tone.
“I’m here to see Kyler,” Saul said. He had pulled the megaphone away from his mouth when Jess showed up, but the sound still carried.
“Like hell you are,” Jess said.
“Look, Jess. I would rather do this with Kyler.”
“Kyler isn’t here, and even if he was, he wouldn’t want to speak to you.”
I had wondered how long it would take for someone to recognize him, and sure enough, I heard someone whisper the name Saul McCormick in the crowd.
“Where is he?” Saul asked, unmoved.
“Please leave, Saul.
You’re causing a scene.”
She turned to leave and walk back into the building. As she did, her eyes flashed past mine, and she stopped in her tracks and did a double take. Saul’s gaze must have been following her, because when I looked back at him, he was staring right in my direction.
I don’t know why, but my first instinct was to run. But my intended escape did not go according to plan. My feet got tangled up as I tried to leave, and I stumbled and almost fell. I threw a hand out to find support and prevent a fall, but it never came to that. Within seconds, Saul had vaulted from the top of the limo and sprinted over to where I was. I wasn’t really falling, but his arms were suddenly around me, his face right against my own.
I had forgotten how good it felt to be in those strong hands of his. And those eyes, those dark pools of fiery intensity, were just as I remembered them.
“Hey, hubby,” Saul said, and he actually had the guts to grin.
I shrugged out of his embrace and backed away as far as I could. I was uncomfortably aware of the scrutiny of the crowd, their collective breath held as they watched us.
“You must have mistaken me for someone else,” I said.
“I don’t think so,” Saul said, still grinning. Did he not get that I was mad at him? “Gorgeous green eyes. Cheekbones sculpted to perfection… I’m pretty sure you’re the one.”
He stressed ‘the one’, so as to make it clear what he meant. I felt the color rising in my cheeks.
“That is unfortunate, then, because I do not believe such a thing exists.”
“Don’t you?”
“No. In my experience, people in the world are just out to use you for their own selfish reasons.”
That wiped the grin from his face.
“Look, Kyler, I’m sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry I am…”
“He was in white,” I said, cutting him off.
