Landslide

by Jenn Cooksey

  “No, um, it was you,” she stops to sniffle and blink back another tear before it has the chance to follow the first, heartbreak written all throughout her features, “It’s just…you should’ve been my…” With her blinking rapidly now in an attempt to meet my eyes and not cry a waterfall, understanding slams into me. I wasn’t her first like she was mine. And this is what soul-deep regret looks like. “I can’t take it back, can I?”

  I pull her to me, holding her close as she weeps into my chest for our shared loss. “No, sweetheart, you can’t.” What I wouldn’t give to be able to travel back in time and erase that for her, just so that she wouldn’t ever know the sharp bite of what “should’ve been.” Then I remember what that would actually cost if I had the capacity for time travel. “It’s alright, though. You shouldn’t feel bad. It’s a double-standard for you to regret any of the things you’ve done but not be as upset about what I’ve done, or, didn’t do. Besides, things happen for a reason, Erica, and even if I could change the past, just enough to adjust that one thing for us…I wouldn’t. Not knowing what I do now.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “I am, actually. Look, I love you…so much that I don’t even know what to do with all of what I feel for you, really, but…if that one thing changed, so many other things would be affected, and some of them are huge. Like, life and death things.”

  “What are you talking about? Are you saying that if we’d had sex, say, the night at the cove, more important things wouldn’t have happened? Because what I think is that by not having sex then, regardless if either of us were in the right place for it to have more meaning, not only did my virginity not go to who rightfully should’ve had it, but we lost seven years together, Cole.”

  “True, but…” I never wanted to tell her. I thought it would be petty and vindictive; however, I can’t have her ruing her life choices up to this point the way she is. Regret is almost as damaging if not more so than grief. And I can’t have her poisoning herself—poisoning us—if I have an anecdote, that while hard to swallow, should help heal some of the hurt. In theory.

  “But, what?”

  Sighing, I cup her cheek, brushing the pad of my thumb over the wetness on it, and then I smooth her hair from her face. “I was there, in Oregon, when we talked on the phone for the last time. I got your voicemail and had driven all night and day to see you. I was going to surprise you, but…I was too late. You told me about sleeping with that guy and I lost it. Actually, I threw a gargantuan temper tantrum. I hadn’t already joined the military. I did it after we hung up. And I told you that I had because I wanted to hurt you the way I felt you’d hurt me, even though you had no idea about any of it. I knew it was the only thing that would cut you out of my life and at the time, that’s truly what I thought I needed to do. But really, it was all my fault—you didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Aghast is the only way to describe her response to the taste of the bitter medicine I’m force-feeding her. “I didn’t do anything wrong? Are you kidding me? You could’ve died! You almost did! And we lost all that time! Because of me and one horrific mistake! How do you expect me to justify my actions and what I did to you as an acceptable sacrifice?”

  “Like I justify mine. There are all kinds of things I wish I would’ve done differently, Erica. I mean, I razed you to the ground on purpose…you might forgive me, but I haven’t forgiven myself for that yet. Don’t know if I ever will. So believe me, I’ve played the woulda, coulda, shoulda game with myself so many damned times and I came out the loser in every one of them.

  “Until it dawned on me that Payton probably wouldn’t be alive if everything up until that point in my life hadn’t played out exactly as it did. Especially in regard to us. If we had ever had sex or if I had ever told you how I felt beforehand, you wouldn’t have given yourself to a drunk stranger exactly when and how you did, therefore I wouldn’t have been in a position to breathe for Payton or take the bullet that I did for him.

  “I don’t know for certain that somebody else wouldn’t have done the same thing, although as much as I wish I would’ve been able to give you the first time you deserved and everything that might’ve been in those seven years, I make peace with it all and sleep at night now knowing that instead, I gave someone their entire life back. My relationship with my father probably wouldn’t have been mended the way it has been either. So, for me, the tradeoff was worth it. I wouldn’t want to go back and change anything that would prevent those things from taking place. Would you?”

  Indisposed remorse is visually seen leaving Erica’s eyes as her conscious mind and heart exchanges it for concession without reticence; the soft smile she finds for me banishing any of the vile remnants of doubt that might’ve been lurking. “No. Not knowing it would cost a life. Even the potential is enough for me to let it go. Still, is it wrong to envision what it might’ve been like, and want what’s in the resulting picture if it’s as wonderful as I imagine it would be?”

  “If that’s wrong,” I say, shaking my head and kissing her nose, “then I’ve been in violation practically my whole life. The trick is not letting that image eat you alive or keep you from appreciating what you do have and striving for even more.”

  “So, we don’t dwell on the past from here on out. Instead we use it to reflect on and learn from so we can go forward and paint something that’s just as wonderful if not better.”

  “Sounds like a great plan to me.”

  Yeah, it does. But how are you gonna handle it if her vision of a masterpiece doesn’t include the important elements and brush strokes that yours undoubtedly will?

  I have no idea…

  44

  “Wrong Side of Heaven”

  —Cole—

  For as cataclysmic as the day and subsequent evening seemed to start out, the night was the polar opposite and couldn’t have been better than if it were the happily ever after of a fairytale. I didn’t want to ever fall asleep. If I didn’t sleep, the night would never come to an end…and I wouldn’t awake to find it was all just a dream—an elaborate and cruel prank played on me by Karma.

  The ominous idea startles me awake and I know at once that I’m alone in bed. I don’t however give in to the panic or nagging insecurity that demands I keep my eyes closed. I open them wide and lay still as long as I can to see if any detail begins to fade the more awake and alert I become, the way a true dream would. It’s all still here. Even a whispered sensation on my hip of how Erica traced the tattooed heart on fire there and the words within it that she’d finally taken notice of. Her discovery led to a blow job, which abruptly turned into the real thing when she herself chose to stop in the middle of what she was doing and completely disregard her view of unprotected sex.

  I almost questioned her, but before I could even articulate a coherent word, she was straddling me with my dick in her hand and was holding it steady as she slid down and enveloped me. I wasn’t even completely inside her when it felt like a vortex had opened up; the sheer intensity of going from her mouth to straight away being sheathed by her body wholly swallowing every rational thought and word I might’ve had. My grasp on sanity was further rocked when I fought tooth and nail for words to warn her I was about to explode, and she didn’t heed them. She deliberately rode me to rapture, and what’s more, she’d kept me buried to the hilt inside her as she blissed out, feeling and watching me be transported from one sphere of existence to another.

  She didn’t spend nearly as long letting gravity do its job as she did the first time, and even less after the third, which was hardly more than thirty minutes later. I’d caved and gone to smoke while I was waiting for her and once she was done and joined me upstairs—of course wanting a cigarette of her own—I don’t know what is was that had me do it, but without even telling her no, I simply pinned her up against the wall like she wanted me to in the first place. It was ludicrously hot. And, I was a lot more steady on my feet than I thought I would be…

  My head rolls to the si
de and I stare at the vacancy beside me, heaving a deep sigh. “One of these days,” I mutter aloud to myself, “I’d really like to know what it’s like to wake up in the morning with her still next to me.”

  The annoying numbers flashing red on my alarm clock reminds me that I have no idea what time it is. It could be noon for all I know. I scan the tops of both nightstands for my phone and another memory plays back. It’s not a particularly impressive or important one, although in my mind’s eye it shows me the moment Erica set my phone on the kitchen counter last night after taking pictures of me. Yawning, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stretch. It feels like morning. The most phenomenal morning of my existence thus far. Even without Erica in my bed right this minute to affirm the truth of that. And it’s a Monday…go figure.

  The few pressing morning-type tasks are accomplished with speed and once clothed in a freshly laundered pair of boxers, I head upstairs, the smell of coffee becoming more and more prevalent with each step. Brief surprise is mine when I see the battery operated cat-clock on the wall at the top of the stairs to find that it’s hardly past seven. My chest expands happily as my heart is exponentially filled with what I can only describe as triumphant gratification seeing Erica standing in my kitchen, her hands both wrapped around a mug of steaming coffee as she quietly stares out the window.

  Moving to stand behind her, my arms slip around her waist and I go to place a soft, good morning kiss on the side of her neck, only then noting how she’s fully dressed—boots and all— when the scarf cozied around her neck forces me to settle for kissing the corner of her jaw instead.

  “You’re up early…”

  “Skull Eater was whining to be let out.” Her curt response includes a nod and straightening her back some, making her seem rigid and tense.

  I search what I can see of her expression from the side. Pensive unease is the only thing I find. My arms fall away and I take a small step back, feeling as though I should be apologizing for something I haven’t even done yet. It’s either that or I managed to somehow commit an offense between now and when Erica and I both drifted off to sleep; happy, content, and snuggled up in each other’s arms. For a moment I wonder if she’s irritated and stressing herself out about impulsively foregoing condoms like we did last night. That possibility in turn irritates me. It then occurs to me that her mood might not have anything to do with me. There are all kinds of things that could be negatively affecting her this morning, like something to do with her grandma, Greg, her job…anything really.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” I gently tug at her arm so she’ll turn to face me. She doesn’t. “Why are you all dressed? Did something happen? Talk to me.”

  Her heads drops forward an inch or two, like she might now be staring into the coffee mug still in her hands instead of through the window. Then she gestures to a piece of paper on the counter. “I wrote you a letter.”

  No.

  This isn’t happening.

  “Why don’t you just tell me what it says.”

  She lifts her head again, sets the mug down, and wistfully speaks to the world outside instead of directly to me. “Waking up this morning was like opening my eyes only to realize I was still dreaming.” A small, appreciative smile spreads across my face, bringing with it hope that I’ve seriously misinterpreted this whole thing. “I threw on my underwear and your shirt from last night and grabbed the dog leash so I could take Skull Eater out front really quick. It was freezing but it was beautiful out and decided I wanted to take a walk. So, I came back inside and got dressed. I didn’t wanna disappear on you though and have you worry, so I went rummaging through your desk for something to leave you a note on. I wrote that letter instead. And since then, I’ve been standing here, crying until I was out of tears and energy to create more, and wishing I could make myself and all my feelings disappear for real and forever.”

  It’s pure instinct to turn her to me…to take her by the arms and try pulling her to me; to do everything I’m capable of to comfort her and wash away the morose morbidity she seems to be unexplainably engulfed in. “Erica, sweetheart, why?”

  She stiffens. “Don’t touch me. It feels too good and that makes me nauseous.”

  Her callous delivery has me retaliating without thinking. “Funny. I don’t remember you puking or even gagging once last night.”

  “That’s because I believed you. I trusted you.”

  I can feel my forehead crinkle in confusion. “I’m gonna need you to be a little more direct and give me some specifics here, sugar, because I don’t have the foggiest fuckin’ clue what I’ve said, done, or didn’t do to make you feel like you can’t.”

  She nods and lifting her pained, exhausted eyes to mine, she whispers, “Okay. How’s this? You lied to me. That wasn’t your first time.”

  “Wh—I didn’t lie about that. Why would you think I—”

  “Who’s Lola?”

  Everything in me comes to a standstill, except all color draining from my face as my blood catches a deathly chill, at once halting any further progress in my frozen veins and arteries. I can’t even inhale my shock with the way my lungs have suddenly collapsed. My heart is the last thing to quit functioning, finding itself lodged in my throat where I do everything I can to not choke on it.

  “I feel like such a fool… You played me and I let you,” she turns and picks something off the counter and hands it to me. I wanted to ask her who had told her, but the culprit is in my hands. A brand new pack of address labels bearing the name Lola Hastings. “I can’t even accuse you of lying about her because I only asked if you had a girlfriend…I never even thought to ask if you were married.”

  I blink. “Erica…it’s not—well, it’s not what you think.”

  “Don’t you dare be so presumptuous as to tell me what I think when I don’t even know,” she snaps, her eyes spitting fire.

  “Okay, I’m sorry. But, I didn’t play you.”

  “No? You don’t have a sister, your mom’s name is Candi, and your dad certainly never gave her his name, and he hasn’t married his girlfriend either, so explain why the name of a woman who shares your last name is on these labels with the address to this house. Tell me who Lola is. Right now.”

  “Lola is…” I squeeze my eyes shut on a strangled sigh and rub my face. “Complicated.”

  This is not how I ever imagined this conversation. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking it would be like, but I was never ignorant enough to think it would be easy. And now that I’m finally having it, I’m scrambling around in my head chasing after words and a way to explain Lola to Erica; however the way is slippery and words keep eluding me.

  “Complicated? She’s complicated. What the hell does that even mean, Cole?! Tell me something that makes sense! And I’m begging you, tell me something that I can live with…something that doesn’t make me want to die inside. Tell me anything that doesn’t make me regret ever knowing you, because I swear to you, I will walk out that door and you will never see or hear from me again if you can’t. Are you widowed? Or divorced?”

  “N—no.”

  Her face falls, her chin quivering with the singular hopeful word, “Separated?”

  Blistering hot tears begin filling my eyes, yet I let them burn my cheeks as they fall unimpeded, at the same time forcing myself to maintain eye contact. “No.”

  A sob bursts from Erica’s mouth, preventing me from continuing to break her heart further. “Do you—do you love her?”

  I blink through the onslaught of my own tears and nod. “More than I ever thought possible,” I admit and take a deep breath, trying to find the courage and strength to say what I’ve put off for so long, “She’s not my wife, though, Erica. She’s my daughter.”

  She blinks, but that’s all. It’s almost as if she didn’t hear me, although I’m afraid to say another word or even move before she does.

  “You have a daughter? A daughter?! And you’re just telling me now?!” I shouldn’t have waited for her to make
the first move, because that move is her angrily slapping me across the face so hard that I’m left with a stinging cheek and the taste of salted metal in my mouth. Fuck, she hits hard when she’s pissed off. “That’s information you should’ve led with, Cole!!”

  I rub my jaw and run my tongue gingerly over the small cut on the inside where the driving force of her hand slammed my teeth into the skin inside my cheek. “I wanted to, Erica, but…I couldn’t. Not until I knew how you felt about…me.”

  “That is the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said, Co—”

  “No, it’s not. You need to see this from my side. I love you, I always have. There’s never been a doubt in my mind about that. But up until last night, I honestly didn’t know how you felt about me, and Lola…well, she’s a big part of why I’m so careful about who I date and how I do it, which is either not at all or it’s kept secret from her,” I sigh when all Erica does is shake her head, like she doesn’t get it, “Look, it’s one thing to go out casually and have both parties know that’s all it is, but she’s a kid. She doesn’t really understand what that means. And I’m not gonna bring women around and have her get attached to them when I know there’s no future in the relationship. That’s not fair to her.”

  “Okay, I can see where that makes sense, bu—wait a minute. You still lied to me.”

  “I didn’t lie to you. I just didn’t tell you about her. I tried last night, but you didn’t want to ta—”

  “You said you were a virgin, Cole.”

  “I told you. I was. Why would I lie about…” The proverbial ton of bricks crushes me.

  “Exactly. You have to have sex with someone first in order to have a child.”

  Are you ready? Take a deep breath…it’s time for the kill shot.