Husband To Go

by S. C. Adams

  I stop talking, thinking back to that first moment Tanner and I met. It was so fun and spontaneous. It was something I felt good about, in fact, because I was letting loose and enjoying myself.

  There’s no judgment in Dr. Rogers’s eyes when she hears this.

  “What did you do afterwards, Kylie?”

  “I confronted him. I waited until we were alone and asked him why he slept with me while engaged to my mom. Apparently, he and my mother have some kind of arrangement, so it was okay for him to find physical satisfaction outside of the relationship. To be clear, I still don’t know the contours of their agreement. But still, it’s weird that I slept with my future stepdad.”

  Dr. Rogers nods.

  “That does sound confusing,” she says in a calm voice. “How did it make you feel?”

  I shake my head, trying not to lose my cool.

  “I feel bad. The worst part, though, is we kept doing it. I’d tell him all the ways it was wrong, but Tanner has this way of making me feel so good, and I just wanted to be with him. It kept going on and on, and eventually, I realized I was in love with him, but he didn’t love me back.” My voice breaks a little here. “Tomorrow he’s marrying my mother, and I’m stuck with all these feelings of self-hatred, wondering what the hell happened. I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

  Unloading all of this has somewhat lessened the burden on my shoulders, but I still feel confused and awful.

  Dr. Rogers is jotting notes on her clipboard, and I hope against hope that she’ll be able to help me

  “Okay, Kylie. I want to thank you for being so truthful with me. This is a lot to consider, but I think North Cross will be able to meet your needs.”

  “Really?” I’m stunned because I thought my problems might be too severe for anyone to handle.

  She nods.

  “Yes. The first thing I need to tell you is that we use what some might consider extreme methods. But people come to us in their time of need, desperate to change their circumstances. So if you’re willing to undergo our treatment, and to follow all of our recommendations, we here at North Cross are ready to assist.”

  It sounds a little intense, but that’s why I’m here. I can’t be afraid to endure some pain and suffering if it means getting out of this deep trough I’ve dug for myself.

  “I’m ready.”

  “Great,” she says with a professional smile. “If you could wait here, I need to fetch a couple of orderlies, and we can accompany you to your room. I shouldn’t take long.”

  Dr. Rogers leaves, placing the clipboard on her desk. She nods at me one more time and then shuts the door. One minute passes and then another. I haven’t been alone for very long, but I’m already starting to get antsy.

  What could she have meant by extreme measures? Psychiatry is a very inexact science, with very inexact solutions. Are they going to torture me? I’ve read that they used to submerge patients in water thinking it would cure them. I doubt they’d go so far as to hammer a pick into my brain, but not knowing what’s going to happen is a little daunting.

  Plus, my chart is just sitting there. I wonder what she wrote about me? How far gone does Dr. Rogers think I am? Am I the looniest person at North Cross?

  I tiptoe over and place my ear against the door. I don’t hear anyone moving, so I decide to at least skim over my chart to see what she’s put down.

  I cross to the other side of the desk and look down at her words.

  “Kylie is exhibiting signs of an obsessive personality. Based on an initial sexual encounter with an older man named Tanner, the patient grew unhealthily attached to said male after learning he was marrying her mother. Even with her moral compass telling her to stop, the patient continued to sleep with the man in question. Talk therapy may be a good starting point but given the patient’s desperation to rid herself of desire for her soon-to-be stepdad, other methods may need to be explored for quicker results.”

  That sounds good, I think. Talk therapy sounds like it could be useful, but what’s this “other method” mentioned by Dr. Rogers? Anything that helps me get better faster is welcome.

  The door starts to creak open. I rush back to my seat, planting my butt down before anyone enters the room. Dr. Rogers is followed by two larger men in green scrubs.

  “Hi Kylie, this is Jonathan and Paul. We have a room ready for you. If you could follow us.”

  “Um, why are they here?” I say, nervously eyeing the burly men. They don’t meet my gaze.

  “They’re our escorts,” replies Dr. Rogers pleasantly. “Now come with me please.”

  We walk single file, with Dr. Rogers at the head, me, and then the two orderlies. I notice that they walk with one hand on their walkie-talkies, while looking about with sharp eyes like they’re Secret Service agents. Are we safe? What are they protecting me from?

  We arrive at a gate which is electronically alarmed, and enter a featureless hallway lit with the same ghastly fluorescent lighting. The décor starts to get more sanitized and septic. The warmth from the reception area is almost gone, and it’s a little scary.

  But this is my life now. I’ll be talking with psychiatrists, living behind metal doors, and maybe I’ll even need to go on meds. Whatever those ‘other methods’ the doctor wrote about, I’m very much ready because this is my life now. If this is what it takes to rid myself of my longing for Tanner, then so be it.

  We stop in front of a door, and Jonathan unlocks it. He pulls on the metal handle, and from his exertion I can tell it’s quite heavy.

  “Kylie,” Dr. Rogers begins in a calm voice, “this will be your space while you’re here. Right now, it’s very bare bones, but you can submit requests for amenities that will put under review. We want you to feel comfortable here while becoming the best version of you.”

  I step into the room, and it’s spartan. There’s a big bed, a T.V., and a desk with a chair. It’s just a standard room.

  “Once we’ve gone through your bag, someone will deliver it to you, along with the approved materials. Tonight, just get comfortable, and, tomorrow, we can get started on creating a treatment plan for you.”

  I nod hesitantly.

  “Okay thanks.”

  Everyone leaves, and I’m alone. The door closes with a heavy thud, and it finally dawns on me that I’m really here. I’m locked into a room, with only a tiny window looking into the yard below. I’m at this institution because I brought myself here.

  I try not to feel scared, but it’s hard not to experience fear. The fact that I can’t just leave is suddenly extremely scary. What if there’s a fire? How will I escape?

  I start thinking about Tanner, wondering where he is and what he’s doing right now. My heart falls. By this time tomorrow, he’ll be a married man, and with a broken sob, I collapse onto the bed and cry. This hurts so much more than I can handle. I’m a defeated woman, irreparably so. These thoughts of Tanner are exactly why I deserve to be locked away, and I curl up on the blanket, crying my heart out for no one to hear.

  16

  Tanner

  Today is the day. It’s my wedding day.

  I went home and tried to decompress from everything going on with Veronica and Kylie. I avoided my fiancée as much as possible. She called me a few times after her failed attempt at seduction, but my work excuse ended up being quite effective.

  What I was really trying to do was figure out how to solve my little conundrum. Only, I didn’t come up with a solution. I came up empty like I’ve been doing for weeks.

  Instead, I let the chips fall where they may, so now I’m standing in front of a mirror in my tux waiting for the clock to strike, making me a married man.

  I am freaking out.

  And the shittiest thing is I still don’t know what to do. How can I be so goddamn indecisive? Why do I keep coming up empty no matter how I wrack my brain? Tanner Logan is a man of action. He gets stuff done.

  And that’s what I’m going to do.

  The problem is, I haven’t seen
Kylie at all. I was hoping to talk to her sometime, but that opportunity never presented itself. I even tried hinting to Veronica that the three of us should get together, but my fiancée was stupidly obstinate. So now, it’s the day of my wedding and I’m dying to chat with my beautiful stepdaughter.

  It’s too late to think about what-ifs. I just need to find Kylie so that we can have a final conversation.

  I’ve wandered all around the venue, but she’s nowhere to be found. There’s Jane standing off to the side, her back facing me. I stroll over as casually as possible.

  “Jane!” I tap her on the shoulder, fixing my face in a neutral smile.

  She turns around, and the look of panic on her face stops me dead in my tracks.

  “Oh my god, Tanner. Have you seen the florist?”

  My heart sinks.

  “No,” I shake my head. I haven’t really been paying attention to any of the wedding prep because my mind has been too preoccupied with other matters.

  “Shit!” Jane exclaims.

  “What is it?”

  “Veronica is freaking out because she wants white tulips in her bouquet, but there aren’t any. She’s insisting she told the florist, but I know she didn’t because I was there for each and every meeting with them. She asked for purple tulips, but reasoning with my sister is impossible. And now guess what? She’s having a major hissy fit over this tiny detail.”

  Internally, I cringe. This is my fiancée at her worst, but what can I do?

  “I’m sure things will be fine,” I say in a calm voice. “No one will notice.

  Jane snorts.

  “Yeah, tell that to my sister.”

  I sigh again. I haven’t seen Veronica all day and it’s partly by design because I don’t want to face her until I’ve had a chance to talk with her daughter. Now, I’m doubly glad I’ve been able to avoid her because clearly, she’s on a war path.

  Jane takes another deep breath, wiping the sweat off her brow.

  “Okay, I’ll figure this out. I’m the matron of honor, I can do this. You’d think for her fourth wedding, she’d be calmer about the whole thing,” Jane huffs before stalking off. My shoulders slump. Clearly, this wasn’t a good time to ask about Kylie.

  I find a chair and take a seat. Where is this girl? Is she not going to come today? Is that even possible? I thought she was part of the wedding party, but maybe not. And can I really blame her if she doesn’t show up?

  If the roles were reversed, and she was getting married today, I don’t think I’d want to watch that. But I’d might try to stop it.

  Would I?

  Do I like Kylie that much?

  Do I love Kylie?

  I don’t get a chance to answer my own question when Veronica comes storming in with fire in her eyes.

  “Where’s Jane? Where’s that goddamn sister of mine?” The woman’s literally screaming. At whom, I don’t know. Everyone in the room either runs out or refuses to make eye contact. I guess it’s my responsibility to defuse this situation.

  “She just left to go looking for the florist,” I inform my red-faced bride. It’s partly from the exertion, but it’s also partly from the fact that Veronica’s got way too much make-up on right now. She’s taken her usual style and increased it one hundred-fold. Unfortunately, it did not turn out well. Her makeup is clearly caked on. There’s so much of it that it gathers in the creases around her mouth, and it’s hot today, so that can’t be comfortable. I wouldn’t be surprised if her face melts off by the end of the day.

  Plus, she looks terrible. Normally, Veronica is well dressed but today of all days, she’s gone berserk. Her dress is much too small for her. It’s skintight and squeezing her like she’s some kind of lumpy sausage, the seams bursting like an old-fashioned corset.

  Maybe that’s why she’s being such a bridezilla. Pure discomfort, given that her innards are being squeezed through her throat.

  “Forget the florist! Fuck the florist! My hair isn’t done, my makeup needs more work, and I don’t have any shoes!” she screams.

  I try not to show my disgust. This woman is in her forties and is having the meltdown of a two-year old. In fact, a two-year old would have more decorum than her, come to think of it. I pin her with a stare.

  “Veronica what do you want me to do?”

  Her eyes are wild, and the whites show.

  “I want you to fix this! Today is my day, and I refuse to have it ruined because everyone around me is incompetent!”

  She stomps away, and I guess I’m expected to do something, although what is unclear. Maybe I’ll try to find Jane again. Maybe she knows where Kylie is, and we can give this another go.

  I stride through every room of this ridiculously huge venue we rented. Everywhere I look, neither Kylie nor Jane is to be found. What I do find is a whole lot of people scrambling to please Veronica. The florist is trembling with fear as she fusses with the table arrangements. The caterer looks like he’s about to quit and is completely red-faced and sweaty.

  Veronica has struck fear into everyone’s heart today. Is that something to be proud of? I think not.

  Finally, I find Jane is a small room that’s out of the way. She’s pacing back and forth, mumbling to herself.

  “Jane?” She jumps when I say her name.

  “Oh my goodness, Tanner. You scared me. I thought you were my sister for a second.”

  “No, Veronica is downstairs yelling at other people,” I reply flatly. At least I assume she is.

  Jane shakes her head.

  “Shit, Tanner. This is too much. I just got a text from one of the bridesmaids saying that Veronica wants her shoes back. The ones she threw out the window.”

  I take a deep breath.

  “I can help you find them.”

  But Jane’s not having it.

  “You don’t understand. She threw them out of a moving car window. On a highway. Those things are long gone, and I have no idea what we’re going to do about shoes now.”

  Jesus Christ. What madness is this?

  “We can buy her new ones. Just take my credit card.”

  Veronica’s sister shakes her head.

  “You still don’t understand. She wants those exact shoes. They’re custom made or something, so she’ll know if we get her some off-the-rack thing. I don’t know what I’m going to do, and frankly, I don’t know if I can do this anymore. She’s my sister, but she’s clearly a monster too. One with a ferocious appetite.”

  Jane is back in her own world, having a mental breakdown. She keeps mumbling, ‘I can’t do this,’ to herself over and over again.

  I swipe a hand over my eyes as fatigue weighs me down. This is what Veronica does to her own family, and I’m about to marry her. I’m about to voluntarily enter myself into her shitshow. But these are my choices, and I need to take control of the day. I straighten my shoulders.

  “Don’t worry about it, Jane.”

  The woman stops pacing and looks at me suspiciously.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ll take care of this,” is my simple answer.

  She looks nonplussed, but I leave the room before I get more questions. Right now, I need to figure out where my fiancée is and take care of this shoe business.

  Fortunately, it’s not hard to find her. I just follow the sound of screaming, and the racket leads me to the bridal suite where my fiancée’s yelling at an unfortunate bridesmaid.

  “I told you to get my veil! Why is that so hard? It’s white and lacy. A monkey could find it, bitch!”

  The girl runs out, on the verge of tears. This leaves me alone with my fiancée, which is exactly what I wanted.

  “What are you doing here Tanner? I need to get ready.” She’s primping in the mirror looking unconcerned that she just made another woman cry.

  “Veronica, we need to talk.”

  She sighs dramatically, still facing the mirror.

  “Can’t this wait until after wedding? We’ll have all the time to talk once w
e’re in Cabo. I’ll indulge all the pillow talk you want then, Mr. Stud.”

  Disgusting. I can’t imagine sleeping next to this woman now, much less with her. It’s clear she’s going to make this as hard as possible, and maybe I deserve it. I’m the asshole in this situation. I didn’t give a second thought to making love to Kylie while engaged to her mom, and now, the chickens have come home to roost. Even worse, I was planning on keeping up the affair with Kylie even after I got married.

  It’s disgusting, I know. Fucked up beyond reason, I’m well aware. I’m the scum of the earth. But the whole thought process was that we’d be in the same house. And what could be better than having Kylie under my roof?

  Jesus Christ, what is wrong with me? How did I become so depraved? But clearly, all that’s changed now that Kylie’s gone missing. I need to end this situation fast, and in any way possible.

  “Veronica, we need to talk now.” Finally, the woman puts down her brush and swivels her chair around.

  “What?” She looks at me, annoyed. I take a deep breath before fixing her with a glare.

  “I don’t think we should get married.”

  “Okay, Tanner,” she scoffs. She turns right back around and goes back to doing her makeup. Did she not hear me? Is she going to ignore that fact that I just called off our wedding?

  “Veronica, did you hear me?”

  She rolls her eyes.

  “Duh, I heard you. I just think you’re being ridiculous. We can’t cancel the wedding. Everyone is on their way, and we put in some hefty deposits. Besides, we’re already here, and what you’re saying is dumb.”

  Dumb? I walk right up behind her, grabbing the back of her chair to spin her around towards me.

  “Don’t second guess me,” I hiss while looking her dead in the eye. My hope was to simply tell her we’re done, but now, I’m afraid that’s not enough. Clearly, Veronica functions according to her own desires, and I’m going to have to drive this point home.