by Ws Greer
“How the fuck did you know we’d be here? We didn't even make reservations,” I say, thinking out loud.
“I followed you,” Ava admits without a single care in the world. “I was outside your house debating whether or not to go up to your door when I saw you pull out of the garage. I wasn't coming to cause trouble. There's just something I really want to say that I think you need to hear. I have to say this, Malcolm. Okay? Please just listen.”
“You're not allowed to be this close to us,” Evelyn growls. “You need to leave, or I’m going to call the police right now. I’m getting sick of this crap, Ava. You set my goddamn car on fire.”
“Don't talk to me. You can't prove I did anything, so don't start,” Ava says, but she doesn't have the rage in her words I thought she would. I can tell she’s trying to hold on to her calmness and remain restrained. “What I have to say is only for Malcolm.”
“Malcolm, are you going to just sit here and listen to this after what she did to my car just a few days ago? Seriously?” Evelyn whispers to me.
“What do you want me to do, punch her in the face? We’re in the middle of a restaurant,” I answer, but it only makes Evelyn madder. Ava has once again put me in a winless position.
“Just listen to me, please, Malcolm,” Ava pleads. She leans forward and looks right into my eyes as I wait for her to speak. “What I want to say to you, Malcolm, is that I'm sorry. I'm sorry I caused you so much pain, and have been such a thorn in your side. I was obsessive and clingy, and I shouldn't have been showing up to your house unannounced. I was wrong for doing that. I was wrong for climbing through your window all of those times. I know that, and I’m so sorry I acted that way. I love you, and I’m begging you to give me another chance. Please, Malcolm. I love you more than I've ever loved anything in my life, and I can't live without you. I need you. Do you understand that? I need you.”
“Ava,” I say, combined with a sigh of annoyance. “This has gone too fucking far. You need help.”
“I know I do,” she admits. “It’s you, Malcolm. You're the help I need. Only you can help me, and I know it’s true because you're the only person who ever has. Your voice helps me. Your touch helps. Your patience helps me. Your cock helps me. I need all of it, because it’s the only thing that keeps me sane. I've tried to move on, but nobody can ever compare to you. I've tried, but all roads lead back to you. I’m not going to try to move on anymore. It has to be you. Do you understand? We have to be together.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Evelyn barks, and she no longer cares about causing a scene. Her voice booms across the room, grabbing the entire dining area’s attention. Low whispers of casual conversation all come to a halt. “You need to get the fuck out of here. Malcolm is with me. We’re together, and we’re falling in love, Ava. You had your chance and you fucking blew it, so just give it up. Go find someone else’s life to ruin. Why can't you just move on?”
Evelyn stands up and Ava follows suit. The two of them square up and I don't have a choice but to get up and step between them just as the manager comes over to us.
“Excuse me, what’s the problem?” the manager asks.
“The problem is that this bitch won’t leave us alone. She pulled a chair up to our booth and just sat herself down like she was a part of our group, but we’re a couple, not a fucking throuple. Please make her leave.”
“Ma’am, are you with this group?” the manager asks Ava, whose eyes are back to being focused on me.
“Malcolm,” she says, her voice soft and pleading. “Malcolm, please. I love you so much. Please take me back. I need you.”
I'm so shocked I can't speak. I look at Ava and I can clearly see she is begging me right now. She looks desperate, and I don't know what turning her down right now will do to her psyche. It may break her completely, and I don't want to be the one to do that.
On the other hand, Evelyn just said we’re falling in love. I don't want to mess that up, so I want to give her what she wants. I’m twisted into a million knots and my brain can't come to a conclusion, so I just stand there as the manager wraps his fingers around Ava’s upper arm.
“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave, ma’am,” the manager announces as he starts pulling Ava away.
She doesn't fight. Ava takes baby steps backwards as the manager pulls her toward the exit, but her eyes never leave mine.
“Malcolm … please,” she pleads one last time, before she is pulled out of the door and into the night. When the manager returns, Ava doesn't return with him.
Evelyn and I remain standing, both of us in shock after our great day has been ruined in a flash. There are no words that can be spoken right now. We only have expressions of confusion, anxiety, and anger, as every person in the room turns to stare at the two of us.
Where the fuck are we supposed to go from here? Where?
Chapter 31
~ MALCOLM ~
My office feels hotter today. It’s like I’m sitting in a sauna, and the hot thick air is made of tension and stress. After Ava was escorted out of Olive Garden last night, Evelyn and I didn't even have dinner. We stood there for a moment, frozen in place with dumbfounded looks on our faces, until one of us was finally able to break free from the ice and say, “Let’s go.” I can't even remember if it was Evelyn or me who said it, but once it was said, we packed up our belongings, I dropped a twenty on the table to cover the drinks we’d had, and we scurried away, doing our best not to make eye contact with any of the people gawking at us. Another night ruined by Ava.
Outside of the restaurant wasn't any better than the inside. Neither of us spoke as we walked toward our respective vehicles in the parking lot. We didn't know what to say. There we were, standing in a restaurant parking lot because we’d pulled ourselves out of the hotel after hiding from Ava, and our night had just been ruined by her the same day we checked out. It was like she was waiting for us to emerge so she could continue wreaking havoc on our lives. It was a nightmare, and when we reached our vehicles, we were too afraid to speak, as both of us were still being tormented by it all.
Our goodbyes were short and brutal. Evelyn opened the door to her new car and climbed inside.
“Bye, Malcolm,” she said without looking at me.
“Evelyn, wait—” I called to her, but the slamming door cut me off as if my voice were my arm trapped in the door opening, and as Evelyn drove away, I was left standing there bleeding on the warm concrete.
My life has all the makings of a dramatic movie that’s ready for the big screen, and somehow I have to push it all aside and get back to doing what I've always done best. I’m a therapist, and I’ve always found peace in being able to help other people. Maybe that’s because I’m so terrible at helping myself. Helping the people who sit across from me in my office gives me the control I crave so much, because my personal life has drifted so far out of control I’m pretty sure I'm lost at sea now. I have no idea how I will find my way back, so I sit in my armchair across from Kim Redden, clinging to the only thing keeping me from capsizing—my work.
“You seem troubled, Kim,” I say to the young wife who married a man after only knowing him a handful of months. As she sits in front of me now wearing all-black—tight black sweatpants and a loose, long-sleeved sweatshirt—with her hair tied into a ponytail that still looks wet from the shower, I don't see the same hope she’d walked in with for our first session. Now, I see regret with a dash of something that wasn't there before. Kim looks anxious and afraid.
“I don't know what to do, Dr. Colson,” she says, her voice low and devoid of all confidence. “Everything is crumbling now, and I don't even know how I got into this situation. I need your advice now more than ever.”
“Okay, well that’s what I'm here for. What exactly has happened since we last spoke?”
“He changed,” she replies as her eyes rise to meet mine and reveal tears teetering on the edge. “Something happened, and now he’s a different person. He’s mean. He’
s controlling. He’s jealous. He's paranoid. He's destructive. He's not the man I married.”
My heart sinks as Kim lists all the ways Trent has changed in just a couple of weeks since I saw him last. My first internal response is remorse and empathy for Kim, while my second is a feeling of confirmation. Trent displayed serious signs of control and jealousy in my sessions with him, and something told me it was only a matter of time before he showed who he really is. The beginnings of relationships are so unfair, because people go so far out of their way to be who they know their partner wants them to be. Eventually, true colors are always revealed, and it can be jarring.
“Kim, did Trent hurt you?” I ask, feeling a strong sense of protectiveness being born in my gut. “Did he put his hands on you?”
“No,” she answers, looking down now. “But the problem is that I no longer feel confident that he never would. He’s outraged over things that have never happened, and it doesn't matter if I prove him wrong a thousand times, he just keeps going, finding a different way to accuse me of the same things. He always thinks I’m talking to someone else, but I never do, Dr. Colson. I have always been committed to Trent, but it’s like he can't see it because all he can see is this alternate version of me that wants to fuck everybody. Why is he like that? Why won't he believe me when I tell him I only want him?”
“Because Trent is blinded by his fragile ego and insecurity.” I lean forward in my seat and make sure to maintain eye contact with my patient. This is the tricky part, because I have to tell Kim about Trent without offending her, because at the end of the day, she is still a woman in love with a man, and that’s very powerful.
“What am I supposed to do, Dr. Colson?” Kim asks, and I swallow hard.
“Kim, I need you to listen to me, and please do your best not to take offense with anything I'm about to say. My job is to tell you the cold hard truth and help you understand it. I don't mean to be insulting in any way. Okay?”
“Okay. I understand.”
“Kim, your husband is an incredibly insecure man,” I start. “He chose you because of how beautiful you are, and now that he has you, he can't stand your beauty because it makes him feel threatened. He knows other men will recognize your beauty the same way he did, and he is terrified your commitment to him will crumble under the weight of other people’s attraction to you. He needs constant reassurance that you love him and won't leave him, and what seems to be happening now is that those reassurances no longer have an affect on him. He has a forcefield of insecurity surrounding him now, so no matter what you say, it doesn't hit home.
“Trent also exhibits signs of obsessiveness,” I go on, doing my best not to comment on my extensive experience with this topic. “He has to maintain constant control of you—who you talk to, where you go, what you do, and what you wear. If he can't control it, he doesn't trust it, therefore he doesn't trust you. Trent will do anything he can to manipulate you into doing whatever he wants you to do, and I'm concerned that his fragile ego and immaturity will lead him down another path—a path of violence.”
“He threw a chair,” Kim instantly follows me.
“He threw a chair at you?”
“No, he threw it across the room and it crashed against the wall next to me. I don't think he was trying to hit me. He also took my cell phone and shoved it down the garbage disposal. I still haven't gotten another one because I'm afraid it'll piss him off.”
I let out a long exhale. “Did you hear what you just said, Kim? You're afraid. That's not something you should ever have to say regarding your husband. Love and fear do not walk hand in hand. It’s childish for Trent to destroy property in your home … and it’s also abusive, Kim.”
“No, I just said he didn't hit me.”
“There are many forms of abuse other than physical. I know it’s difficult to do when you're talking about your husband, but you have to push past your love for him and recognize reality. Trent emotionally abuses you with his manipulation. Throwing things and destroying property are forms of mental abuse and fear tactics. He doesn't have to hit you to abuse you, but I need you to understand that these other forms of abuse usually precede physical abuse. Does Trent ever speak to you negatively?”
Kim glances up at me as she wipes away tears coming from both eyes. She's trying to maintain the tough exterior she's used to, but Trent has worn her down.
“He’s been calling me a whore,” she admits, just before covering her face with both hands and sobbing. Tears drip off of her wrists as she cries and struggles to breathe between the sobs.
“Verbal abuse,” I say as I push the box of tissues over to her side of the table between us. “I'm so sorry, Kim. No one deserves to be spoken to that way. No one who loves you should ever call you out of your name. Ever.”
I stop talking and let Kim cry for a little while. Part of me wants to go over to her and wrap her in a big hug, but I do my best to avoid physical contact with my patients, especially after everything that has happened with Ava. However, I will allow her the space she needs to just cry. Sometimes, crying is the perfect medicine. Once Kim gathers herself, I speak again.
“Kim, in my professional opinion, you're in a very toxic relationship,” I do my best to explain. “The things that have been said and done in your home are the exact instances marriages should not have. Trent is an abusive husband, and while I would never presume to tell you what to do with your marriage, I think you know what feels right in your heart. You have to protect yourself and do what’s best for your safety and well-being. Please don't make the mistake of clinging to the nostalgia of how your relationship with Trent began, hoping he’ll go back to that version of himself. Trent has shown you who he is, and it’s important that you believe what he has shown you. Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?”
Kim, still wiping tears from her eyes, looks up at me. I can see the anger, sadness, and worry in her face. I hate it. If Trent were here now, I don't even know what I'd do, because there is nothing more pathetic than a man abusing a woman, no matter which form of abuse it is. A man who abuses a woman is a pussy, but I don't say that out loud.
After a moment of silence between us, Kim slowly nods her head. She keeps her eyes down at first, before raising them to meet mine as she wipes her last tears away.
“I understand, Dr. Colson,” she says. “I understand.
THE BIG REVEAL
Chapter 32
~ KIMBERLY ~
There must be some sort of misunderstanding. I must have something wrong. Our wires must be crossed somewhere, because the way all of this is coming together just has to be wrong. I haven't even been married a year, and the end seems as though it’s already near. Can that possibly be right? Could I have been that wrong about Trent when we met and first started dating? Is it possible to have that wrong of an impression of someone?
When Trent and I met, it all felt right to me. He was incredibly hot and the sex was great. We would laugh together and it seemed like we enjoyed all the same things. I thought we had so much in common that it didn't matter if we never really talked about anything of substance. We did a lot of talking, but I guess we never discussed his views on marriage, or his views on women in general. I thought as long as we were talking that was enough, but now I regret not getting deeper. I regret not learning more about him and his ability to handle his emotions. I regret not being open to the signs he may have been giving off back then. I regret so much, but I don't want to regret getting married. I want our union to work. No one goes into their marriage hoping it fails. I want us to beat the odds, and I haven't given up yet. Not yet.
Trent and I haven't gotten back to normal since the infamous cell phone incident. The tension between us is as thick as the pipe he tried to shove my phone down, and after my last therapy session with Dr. Colson yesterday, I feel a strong urge in my stomach to give in. I know Dr. Colson is right about everything Trent has done. There’s no denying that, but something in me just wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t give
Trent one last chance to show me he’s still the man I remember marrying. I couldn’t live with myself if I knew I gave up on Trent when he needed my understanding more than ever. What if I’m wrong? What if this is just a phase? Tonight I’ll find out, then I’ll know what to do.
When I walk into the living room, Trent is seated on the couch clutching a glass bottle of Bud Light in his hand, the condensation dripping down the side. He’s in a NASCAR T-shirt and blue jeans, and his eyes are glued to the TV, even when I walk into his field of vision. When I sit down on the couch next to him, his eyes shift in my direction for a split second before going back to the TV. He’s watching NASCAR, so I know this is probably a bad time for him, but it’s the only time for me and I have to take it. I breathe in deeply and say a tiny prayer in my head. Please, show me you're still my Trent.
“Honey?” I start, my voice coming out soft but encased in concern. His eyes twitch, but don't leave the TV. “Umm, I was hoping we could talk.”
“About what? I’m watching TV.”
“Yeah, I can see that, and I don't mean to interrupt you, but I think we need to have an important conversation, and I’d like to do it before I go to bed.”
“NASCAR is on, Kim.”
“Yeah. Again, I can see that, but I guess I was hoping I could be more important than NASCAR for a few minutes. Please, Trent.”
He scoffs and rolls his eyes as if I’m not looking right at him, and I swallow my growing frustration. I just interrupted his beloved NASCAR, so I understand he’s upset. I take another breath and let it go.
“Fine, Kim, let’s talk.” He mutes the TV and tosses the remote onto the coffee table much more aggressively than he needs to, before turning and looking at me. “So, what are we talking about?”
The look on his face tells me he doesn't want to talk at all. Why is he already so upset? What is with all this extra aggression these days? Who are you?
