Heartbreak Warfare

by Heather M. Orgeron

  Gavin keeps his back to me. “You didn’t even put your fucking wedding ring back on. That should’ve been the first sign. I’m picking Noah up from your parents.”

  This time I step up. “The hell you are! You aren’t taking my son away from me!”

  He looks back at me with clear anguish in his features. “I would never do that. Ever. Despite how badly I want to punish you, I’ll never use him. Get yourself together, Katy.”

  “Please, please, don’t take him.” I fall to my knees as my heart bottoms out. I’m in hysterics as Gavin hauls more bags to the porch. The house goes silent with his footfalls in the hallway, and it’s only then that I realize he’s standing in front of me, feet away, staring down at me, his tears falling rapidly.

  “I wish”—he licks a tear off his lips—“I just wish you could have trusted me.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper through shuddered breaths.

  “I’ll bring him home the day after tomorrow.”

  Relieved cries leave me as I push the tears away with my fingers. “Thank you.”

  “I’m not taking him away, Katy.”

  Slowly I rise to my feet and lift my eyes to his. “Y-you’ll never know how s-s-sorry I a-am for hurting you the way I have. You’ll never know how much seeing you this way hurts m-me.”

  “But I wasn’t enough, was I?” he says with a tear-filled rasp.

  We’re both sobbing a foot away from the other, inconsolable, with no pain greater than the vast space I just put between us.

  “Gavin?” My chest rises and falls with shuddered breaths.

  I don’t ask the first question because I know I’ve destroyed it. My selfish need to know the answer to the second outweighs all else, but I can’t bring myself to ask.

  In my heart, I still feel it from my husband—my lover, my teacher, and my best friend—and I can’t deny myself this one comfort because I know without it, I won’t ever come back.

  His answer echoes out in the memories we hold between us just before he closes the door.

  “Forever.”

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Katy

  Fuck my heart.

  It’s the one relationship I can end on my terms. Even as my body forces tears of mourning from me, I rebuke them for weakness, and instead of cleansing me, it fuels me.

  Because I’m still angry.

  And this time it’s got everything to do with the choices I’ve made because of the foolish muscle.

  I’ve been so intent on healing myself that I ruined three lives, and none of them belong to me, although I’ve destroyed that one, too. My little boy is starting to ask questions I can’t answer, questions I refuse to ask his father because Gavin’s absence is more alarming than ever. Noah’s reports to me are coming regularly. “Daddy’s been crying. I saw him in his bathroom.”

  Those were the words that helped me bounce from bottom to below ground, where I dug the shovel in deep and discarded the pumping vessel before hurling myself forward and as far away as possible.

  My son and I now live in a tomb of what once was a home, and I know Noah feels it. There’s nothing I can do but hide the truth from him—that I’m scared too, that things have changed and may never go back to the way they were, and that I’m not sure I want them to.

  Instead, I bury myself in work. The bills still need to be paid, so I’ve taken a job at my sister’s law firm as a file clerk. The work keeps me busy. It’s something temporary until I can figure out a better way of supporting us. I’ve applied for the VBSN program to get my nursing degree, and I’m waiting to hear back. I don’t know what future I’m ready for, but the more I wait on life, the longer I’m living it in uncertainty.

  It’s been almost two months since my husband left me a second time, and I have yet to catch sight of him. Every night I paralyze myself with medications to keep me in my nightmares so that I can’t wake up to my reality. I’m taking them because I want them to work; I want more than anything to break through this barrier of living half a life. One day, I’ll allow myself to want more, but in the meantime, I’m concentrating on my son’s heartbreak and doing everything I can to make up for the fact that I failed. So, I smile for him because he needs me to. I use all my energy to fill the void of losing myself to my mistakes, and I bury the pain by keeping busy. I spent two days cleaning up the mess Gavin made in the living room and planting the flowers he brought me. My days blur as I keep my hands busy, thinking of new ways to keep from sitting idle. It isn’t until night, while sitting on the swing as Noah reads to me, that the war wages over thoughts of each of them, with no word from either. So, fuck my heart. All I can do is ignore it to keep living.

  It’s nearing the end of the workday when my phone chimes from inside my desk drawer.

  Gavin: I’ll pick him up from school tomorrow.

  Me: That’s the third time this week.

  Gavin: And I’m keeping him over the weekend.

  Me: What? Please call me.

  Gavin: I’m taking him fishing.

  Me: Where? Can we please discuss this?

  Gavin: Just have him packed.

  Anger surges through me as I try to reason with myself. If this is what my future looks like, I’m going to have to deal with it. It’s his call, and I’m still sifting through the ashes trying to find some semblance of direction. Noah needs to know his father is still very much in the picture, and I’ve had him the majority of the time we’ve been apart. Gavin is a full-time father; it’s my fault he’s not still playing the part.

  Me: Okay. Do you think we can talk when you get back?

  Gavin: Nothing to say.

  Me: There’s plenty to say.

  Gavin: Maybe for you.

  Me: Please talk to me.

  Minutes pass, and when I see nothing from his end, I know the conversation is over.

  “Hey,” Sammy says, as I look up to her with threatening tears.

  “Let’s talk in there,” she says, nodding toward the bathroom.

  Once inside, she locks it, turning to me with her arms crossed.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Gavin’s taking him fishing this weekend.”

  “Okay,” she says, giving me a questioning look.

  “And I feel like I’m waiting for a fucking atomic bomb to drop.”

  “You aren’t in control, and that bothers you, I get it. But this is his decision. Do you even want to reconcile?”

  “He won’t forgive me.”

  “That’s not what I asked,” she says patiently.

  “I don’t care about me,” I answer honestly. “I don’t care.”

  “You do, or you wouldn’t be so upset.”

  “You know what I wish?” I say, pacing in front of her. “I wish that I would have never fucking gone to Baghdad.”

  “And then you wouldn’t have met Chris.”

  His name is like a shock wave.

  “Yes,” I say, resentful. “Yes, because I wouldn’t know.”

  “Know what?”

  “That he exists! Jesus, are you listening?”

  “Keep your voice down,” she warns.

  “Sorry,” I say as she stops me, her hands on my shoulders.

  “I love him,” I say with a sigh.

  “Who?”

  “Exactly. I keep waiting for my heart to tip over one way or the other, and it won’t, Sammy, and it doesn’t matter cause I’m not listening to it anyway. I’m so much better off.”

  “Yeah, Sis, you look happy,” she spouts sarcastically. I glare at her for seconds before we burst into laughter.

  “Okay, so you fell in love with Gavin when you were nineteen. You settled down early, it’s only natural to feel—”

  “No, no, that’s not it, not at all. That’s not it.”

  “Okay, so what you felt over there with Briggs was just as real.”

  “Yes,” I say adamantly. “And he’s over there, right now, he’s punishing me too.”

  “By doing his job?”

 
“I didn’t ask for this, don’t you see, Sammy? I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want it. I never wanted any of this.”

  “Do you want your family back for the sake of your son only?”

  “I want Noah to know he’s my priority.”

  “Fine, make him the priority. You can’t worry about Gavin’s part in this. You just need to trust him to be the great father we both know he is. And in doing that you can let your heart shrivel up and die in the dark because it’s your fault you fell for a gorgeous man who saved you and helped you through the darkest days of your life. Who bowed out when you asked him to and stepped up to the plate when you couldn’t.”

  I stop pacing as I see Sammy’s eyes fill up with concern. “I’m torn for you, Sis. I really am. I think, in a way, I’m vicariously in love with them both myself for the men they are. I only know bits and pieces of what happened and the state it’s left you in. But knowing you and Gavin, what you have, I can’t blame you for trying so hard, even feeling the way you do about Chris. And in some way, I don’t think he can either, though I’m sure he would never admit it.”

  “Trust me, he does.”

  “Here you are with two amazing men vying for you, and I can’t even get a decent date.”

  “Tell me what to do.”

  “Well, seeing as how neither one wants to have shit to do with you at the moment, I would say keep trucking, but do it a little bit better. The heart you’re ignoring is sitting on your sleeve, bleeding freely. But I do agree it’s time to check that bastard. How about you allow yourself to fully function without them. But keep in mind, one or both are going to come back at some point. That’s what you need to be thinking about.”

  “Gavin hates me, Sammy.”

  “He’s never loved you more than he does right now, mark my words. You’ve got to give him this time to decide whether or not he can forgive you. You did a horrible thing, and he’s never been faced with the idea of losing you before. This is new territory. He’s terrified and out of his mind with hurt, and that hurt is what you’re getting the brunt of right now.”

  “And Chris?”

  “You know exactly what he’s doing over there. Distracting himself by blowing shit up. You remember how Daddy sometimes got when he and Momma used to fight?”

  “Not really, I was too young I think.”

  “He’d call his army buddies over to stay for the weekend and ignore the rest of us.”

  “Oh, yeah,” I say, recalling the number of ‘uncles’ I used to have.

  “They’d get piss drunk for days, but when they left, Daddy would be in a better mood for a few weeks.”

  “Yeah, he took us to the carnival once after.”

  “Exactly,” she says.

  I keep nodding.

  “But I’ll warn you now, as much as you hate what’s happened, it needed to.”

  “What? How in the hell can you say that?”

  “Because it’s out. The truth, what’s been eating you alive. It’s finally out.”

  “As much good as it’s done.”

  She turns to fix herself in the mirror. She’s dressed in a sharp suit, and I’m in a simple floral sundress that’s borderline business casual.

  “It’s the truth, and it’s the hardest part, don’t stray from that. Just go with it, minute by minute. Stop hiding to protect everyone’s feelings, including your own, because that was a hell of a lot worse. Just…let yourself react to things as they come.”

  “Okay.”

  She catches my eyes in the mirror. “I’ve watched you lose yourself, and every month you’re getting better, despite the stumbling. I’m so proud of you.”

  “I feel like I’m back where I started.”

  “No.” She gives me a reassuring smile. “Not even close. You’re going to have moments. Panic attacks like the one you had yesterday. These are setbacks, not step backs.”

  “Setbacks not step backs.”

  “That’s right.” She slaps my ass like I’m about to shove a helmet on. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go put an asshole in jail.”

  She moves toward the door, but I latch onto her back, hugging her hard from behind. She holds onto my arms, and we rest there.

  “I love you,” I whisper.

  I can feel her shake a little with relief. “I know it’s been hell on you, but I thank God every day you came back.”

  “Even as I am?”

  “God, yes. Who am I, if not your sister?”

  “Don’t you ever leave me.”

  “Not a fucking chance.”

  She pats my arm to free her because too much affection is not her style. She gets it from my Dad. Just before she pries the door open, I stop her.

  “Sammy?”

  “Yeah, babe?”

  “Do you think he’ll ever forgive me?”

  “Which one?”

  “Exactly.”

  She tosses me a look over her shoulder, and I see her threatening tears. “I think the better question is—can you forgive yourself before the bomb drops?”

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Gavin

  Noah sits on the dock with his fishing pole, swinging his feet off the edge as I bait my hook.

  “Daaad, nothing is biting the worm.”

  “Give it time, Son.”

  “We’ve been here forever,” he sighs as I look over at him. Her sideways glance steals my breath. He has my lips and chin, but from the nose up, he’s all Katy.

  “There you go, Captain. Evidence of a job well done. Now you’re stuck with us both because of your incessant wooing.”

  Exhausted, she places him in my arms looking up at me with the love I crave, the love I’ve come to need from her. A delirious giggle escapes as she shakes her head. “I can’t believe a crappy pickup line led to something so perfect.” Happy tears trail down her cheeks as I press my lips to hers before I pull away, captivated by the sight of him.

  I stare down at the love we made, speechless, knowing nothing could ever top this feeling. Before Katy, I was never much for emotion, but she brings the heart out of me like no other. With where I came from, I never imagined a family for myself to be a possibility. But with her, my heart gave itself freely without my permission, and I followed, a willing slave. Loving her was never a choice.

  “Noah,” she whispers softly. “It means a state of tranquility, a state of rest. It suits him, right?”

  It’s as if she understands what I’m thinking, and when our eyes lock over a whisper of sun-kissed hair, I know she does.

  “Rest in him, Gavin. You’re going to be the best daddy there ever was.”

  The day he was born, and every day after, I knew I couldn’t hide much of anything from my wife. I’d been trying her whole pregnancy not to show my insecurities about becoming a father because I was terrified to repeat my own father’s mistakes. But all along she’d known and named our son specifically to soothe my fears because she trusted me so implicitly, and she wanted me to trust myself.

  Ache spreads, and I soak it in, allowing myself to feel it. It’s the only way I’ll start to heal. I’ve spent so many nights pacing my new apartment that I’m marking the carpet. Twice I’ve tried to venture out for a revenge fuck and returned pissed, drunk, and alone. Both times I’ve kept myself from calling her, when it’s all I wanted to do.

  Noah casts his line back in the way I taught him as his voice interrupts my thoughts.

  “Daddy, how long will you be mad at Mom?”

  Fuck.

  “I’m not mad at her.”

  “I saw your text message to her the other day when I got on her iPad. You told her you didn’t give a shit.”

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  “Language.”

  “Sorry. Just telling you what I read.”

  “You shouldn’t be reading her messages.”

  “You only cuss when you get mad.”

  “I was mad at the time, but I’m not now.”

  He gives me the same side eye as I swallow hard.
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br />   “Watch the bobber,” I say, trying to distract him.

  “Soooo, you can come home, now. If you’re not mad.”

  “I’m not mad, Son.” I can think of a hundred better words.

  Staring out at the calm trees that surround the lake, I try to soak in some of their tranquility. My temperament as of late is shit, and I need this weekend away with him to remind myself that I’m not my father. I won’t let my son down the way he let me down. I’m the cement in his life, no matter what happens between his mother and me.

  “Dad, why won’t you come home? Mommy planted all the flowers she said you gave her. Don’t you wanna see?”

  “I’m not mad. I’m just working hard,” I offer as a pathetic excuse.

  “Then tell her you’re not mad and come home.”

  I’m about to lose my shit as my son drills me. All I want to do is blame her, tell him she’s the reason I don’t tuck him in some nights. To tell him to ask her why I’m not at home, but a part of me blames my lack of timing. If only I’d accepted the first dinner invitation. If I’d given her a chance when she was reaching out, instead of letting my hurt and ego get in the fucking way, we might not be having this discussion. And with that thought, I’m backhanded by a thousand others, imagining the worst. Thinking of the two of them together, fucking, happy, of him drying the tears she refused to shed for me. Even with the devastation she showed when she got home that day, nothing eases the betrayal.

  Love and anger run through me in equal measure all day, every day and I’m suffering under the weight of it.

  “Sometimes adults need a break. End of discussion,” I say firmly.

  “Well, I’m done fishing. End of fishing,” he pipes, letting go of his rod. I catch it just before it hits the water as he stomps past me.

  “Son, this pole cost a lot of money, and you will not treat it like a toy.”

  “I don’t care!” he shouts.

  “Noah Jameson, get your ass back here, right now.” It’s a commanding voice I trained myself to use with him.

  “Son, I mean it.”

  Noah keeps moving until he reaches the end of the dock.

  His shoulders drop as he slowly turns to me, his eyes filled with tears.