Leaving Amy (Amy #2)

by Julieann Dove

  “Are you okay?” He stooped down and looked into my eyes. “Amy?”

  I swallowed. Yep, that’s all I’ve got. Just saliva needing to take a plunge down the esophagus. Nothing else. How did I get here? On the side of the road with my soon-to-be ex-husband who’s now saying things like he wants me back. My legs shook. Not in the good way.

  “Are you going to say something?” His eyes hadn’t left mine.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say that we still have a chance. Say that although we went through a rough patch, that it’s not too late.” His hands were in praying position.

  “A rough patch, Wesley?” Now, this I could work with. “You left me a note on the refrigerator. And then went on to live with a girl you’d been seeing while you were married to me.” I grabbed my mouth. “Were you sleeping with both of us at the same time?”

  “Of course not, Amy. You and I hadn’t slept together for months.”

  “Why couldn’t you have told me? Why leave me a note?” Said the guilty party who’d just done the same to Mark.

  Another car passed but slowed up and turned in to Jim’s driveway. What a place to be hashing out the problems of your marriage.

  “I couldn’t talk to you. I couldn’t look into those blue eyes and have said it. I would’ve never gone.”

  “Maybe that’s happening now. When we get back and we’re living apart, you won’t feel this way. Or maybe you’re just lonely and I’m someone you’re used to.”

  “I don’t want to live apart from you, don’t you see, Amy? And it’s not because I’m used to you.” He took me by the shoulders. “I want us to work. I want to do it right this time. I want to tell you things I like or…need. I can do that now. I never stopped loving you. We were just broken. God, what would I do without you? My life is in shambles. Please give us this chance.”

  I grabbed my face. My world spun. He was saying all the things I wanted to hear at one time. At one time. Not now. I was still wounded by his transgressions. I was still in the phase of ending it with Mark. I couldn’t go here with Wesley now. I wasn’t ready. I thought I was over this. Been to the funeral of my marriage kind of thing and was merely waiting for the dirt to cover the hole it’d left in me. Why couldn’t he just put away his shovel and leave it be? Leave the wound alone.

  “Wesley, I’m not where you’re at, right now. In a sense, I’m still packing my apartment to move in with Mark. Only now he’s moving to Chicago. My heart is in a state of shock. I’m not ready for you to hand me yours. I don’t know what to do with it.”

  “Fair enough.” His eyes fell to the ground. “But know that it’s yours. For when you’re ready.”

  He started to walk and grabbed behind him to take my hand, leading me down the dark driveway. It felt good, being led by the only guy I felt like I’d had all my life. The hand that had lost its way to mine for years but was here again. Pleading for another chance. I sure hope Jim had some liquor. I needed to get inebriated right about now.

  All the lights were on in his house. People were on the front porch and hanging in the doorway of the front door. It looked like a frat house, not his family’s cabin. It’s just what I needed: a loud diversion to all the voices screaming inside my head.

  Chapter Seven

  Despite Wesley’s attempt to hold tight to my hand, Jim came and rescued me as soon as we entered the living room. I shrugged and pulled away from Wesley with an innocent I-don’t-want-to-be-rude kind of look on my face.

  “You don’t know how much I need this right now.” I pulled his arm so I could get closer in his ear to be heard. “What a day this has been.”

  He led me to the kitchen and handed me a red Solo cup. Inside the fridge were a couple of pitchers of a fun-looking drink. Red with some pretty fruit floating inside them. He poured me a cup and handed it over with a smile.

  “Thanks. It’s so pretty. What is it?” I smelled the contents and took a swig, waiting for his answer.

  “It’s punch, Amy. I didn’t figure you on being a beer drinker.”

  He closed the fridge and grabbed a beer from a tub of ice on the floor. I swirled the mystery punch around my mouth and suddenly my taste buds exploded with joy. I imagined Disneyland at the end of the night. Fireworks and alcohol. Yummy!

  “Take it easy, Braveheart. It’s good but it comes with a punch. No pun intended.”

  I looked briefly around the other rooms for Wesley. All I saw was a sea of faces I didn’t recognize. Not many of which looked to be my age. There was a guy wearing a toboggan with a Star Wars shirt that read something with profanity. The guy he was talking to wore a muscle shirt and a tight beaded necklace that appeared to be choking him. I scrunched my nose, feeling the confinement his throat must be suffering.

  “Don’t bother looking for Douche Bag. I sort of told some friends of mine to keep him occupied.” He took my hand and weaved me through more people to the outside porch.

  “And exactly how were they able to know which one Wesley is?” I sipped my new best beverage.

  “Simple. I told them to look for the stupid ass hat.” He turned and talked to me while making it out to the back lawn. I was impressed he didn’t fall on the stone steps that led to the lawn.

  “Seriously, Amy, he still wears that thing? What? Are we still juniors in high school?”

  I loosened my hand from his and stopped walking, looking up at the sky. There must’ve been five hundred thousand stars up there tonight. Music blared from inside the house and I noticed a few people on the pier that led to the water. One of them was actually strumming a guitar. Jim nudged me to follow him there.

  “So what’s new with you, Amy Martin?”

  Hearing my old name dropped about ten years from my life. I smiled. “I’m just here at this cool guy’s party. Enjoying this lovely drink that could’ve been made by potheads with dirty hands and I wouldn’t care in the least. In fact, I’m trying my best not to be worrying if the fruit is organic or not.”

  He plopped down on the edge of the pier and patted the seat next to him. Thankfully I wore my jacket. The air was still damp from all the rain we’d received earlier. Jim acted unaffected in his thin tee shirt. The faint Grateful Dead logo had lived through a couple hundred machine washings.

  “Don’t worry—the potheads washed their hands once yesterday. I saw it, myself. And the fruit?” His head tilted. “I’m not even sure where it came from. Hopefully they didn’t use what was in the fridge. That stuff’s been in there for months.” He grinned and took a draw from his longneck.

  I, too, took a large gulp of my drink. It didn’t matter; it tasted good and I hoped and prayed it was laced with a slight form of amnesia. That’s what mattered right at that moment: how much I could forget and how fast it would happen.

  Then it happened. I could feel it. Life’s problems lifted as though gravity didn’t exist in my confused mind.

  “I’m serious about the drink, Amy. I don’t want to have to carry you out of here.”

  “Maybe that’s exactly what I need.” My eyes felt a little too sad as I looked at him.

  Jim had a face that never changed: uncomplicated, even-tempered, and so adorable that your mom was never worried when he showed up to take you to the movies. When I was tutoring him, I was never nervous how I acted. Was I not cool enough? Would he laugh about me to his popular friends? Were the snacks Mom left on the table for us to eat too nutritious? Did it make me look like I was in grade school to have a mom who even did this? But it didn’t matter. Jim was Jim. Unmoved by anything. Jim was still Jim.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” He looked out across the dark lake. Soft guitar music played in the distance.

  “How about you? Do you want to talk about it?”

  “What would I have to talk about?”

  “Oh, the fact that you don’t know half the people in your parents’ cabin and the fact that you’re not going home for Thanksgiving to be with your family.”

  “It’s complicat
ed, Amy.” He leaned forward on his knees.

  “Seems I have the time.” I only half wondered where Wesley was and only half that was thinking about what he’d just said moments ago. Give me someone else’s problems for a change.

  “Not for the obvious reason that Wesley’s a complete asshole, but why did you cheat?”

  I coughed. Out of nowhere. It was a knee-jerk response to his blunt question. To the absurdity of it. The motion made my head buzz. Or was it this drink that was doing it? Was it laced with like a date rape drug or something? I’d have to keep my distance from Wesley if that were the case. He was all too touchy-feely tonight.

  I flexed my face a couple times, stretching out my eye sockets. I was becoming warm in my lightweight jacket. “Ironically, I didn’t cheat on Wesley.”

  “Ironically?” His eyes crinkled in the dim light.

  Some rowdy people on the lawn were belting out lyrics to a song I couldn’t hear playing from inside the house. I tried to stay focused.

  “Wesley left me about eight months ago. That guy you saw me with was my boyfriend up until about twelve hours ago.” I looked at my wrist. There was no watch.

  He seemed confused.

  “It’s a long story, trust me. I’m here now posing as Wesley’s wife so he can get the rest of his trust fund money. No, cancel that. I am still his wife. He never signed the divorce papers.”

  Jim shook his head, perhaps hoping the details would settle in sequence in his mind. “You’re shitting me. Douche Bag left you?”

  “Jim, you should stop calling him that.” Although the title fit him entirely with the whole cheating business. I should’ve called him that in the hospital while he had an IV dripping into one arm and hugging on what’s her name with the other. Douche Bag.

  Jim rubbed his hair, as if he was attempting to get an electrical charge from it. Why did he still look so confused?

  “Are you all right?” I touched his shoulder.

  “Amy, I lied to you.” He looked in my eyes with grave seriousness. His perfect-tempered face was trampled with torture. “I should’ve told you.”

  “Lord, Jim, you look a bit crazed. What could you possibly have lied about? The times I’ve seen you since graduation, we’ve only had time to exchange hellos. Before that, we were in high school. And the only thing we ever shared in common was calculus.”

  He turned his body toward mine and held onto my shoulder. “I aced calculus, Amy.”

  “You’re welcome.” I smiled, feeling a little like I had something to do with it.

  “No, I mean I aced calculus without your help. I was only coming over to your house to watch your family.” He began to breathe rapidly, needing to get out something that’d possibly been bottled up for years. “You see, I saw my mom with your dad.”

  Nothing he said was making sense. Maybe it was the fruit punch I was drinking. “Okay.”

  “Like I saw you and your boyfriend in that restaurant.”

  My eyes darted from his eyes to the twinkle in the stars above. What was he implying?

  “It’s a long story like yours, but basically I made up the whole thing about needing you to tutor me. You see, after I saw my mom with Mr. Martin, I changed. You know?” He set his beer on the wood plank and rubbed his palm on his jeans. “I needed to know what your dad had that my dad didn’t. Because as far as I was concerned, we were the perfect family. My sister was head cheerleader, I was point guard, and Mom and Dad were Mom and Dad. Norman flippin’ Rockwell.”

  “But when I got to your house, I was more confused. Your dad was like mine. Suit and tie, briefcase, and that shithead smile on his face every minute of the day.”

  “I think you’re confused, Jim.” That was the nice way of saying I thought he was tripping on acid. There is no way he saw my dad with his mom…in the way Mark and I were when he saw us. How were we exactly? I’m a little light on the PDA kind of thing.

  “No, I’m not confused, Amy. Not anymore.” He leaned back on his hands and talked to the heavens. “I followed them. Every Tuesday at lunch. The first time was a fluke. I was sent home with a stomachache and saw them. Then I began skipping classes just to check if what I saw was real.”

  “Jim, my dad never cheated on my mother.”

  “Did you know when Wesley cheated on you, or were you completely surprised?”

  I bit my lip.

  “That’s what I thought. Amy, why would I make this shit up? I called her on it and I swear, I wish I would’ve never done that.”

  Okay, I’d play along with this preposterous idea. This poor guy looked as though he’d seen a ghost. “Why?”

  “Because that’s when Mom admitted to me that Dad was beating her.”

  Suddenly my slight buzz was slapped off my face. “What?”

  “Yeah, that bastard was sly about it. He’d wait until me and Carly would go to bed or to Grandma’s and then he’d slap her around. Mom claimed he was sick. His dad had evidently done it to his mom and thus that’s where the heritage of jackasses originated.”

  “Jim, I’m so sorry. Your mom is so sweet. No one deserves that.”

  “That’s why your dad was going to help my mom.” He picked at his jeans. “She went to him to ask questions about a divorce. Dad found out and gave her a busted lip.”

  I noticed his hands balled into a fist.

  “She said she tripped on the stairs in the basement.” He shook his head. “All those times, I never put it together. What a fool I was.”

  I rubbed his shoulder as he lightly pounded his head with his fist.

  “Why would you think anything different?”

  He continued. “She said when your dad found out, he began seeing her secretly. You know, trying to help her.” He looked me in the eyes. “She said before they knew it, they were in love and he was the only one who could save her.”

  I scrambled my brain for verification of any of these things he was attesting to. Did Dad seem to be in love with another woman? What did he look like on Tuesday evenings? I imagined him coming into the kitchen backdoor and dropping his briefcase before walking over to the cupboard and getting a glass to pour him some brandy. Oh my God! Was he trying to drink away the fact he had to come home and pretend we were happy? Weren’t we happy? Was I just imagining the times he gave Mom a kiss and they both laughed at something she said? Did he have a mystery man trapped himself inside like Wesley did?

  “I’m sorry; it’s just so hard for me to believe this.” No offense, but he was taking a knife to all my childhood memories of a perfect family.

  “I wasn’t going to ever tell you, Amy. But when I saw you twice in the same month, I thought it was like a cosmic sign to share this. I don’t know who else to go to about it.” His eyes glassed up.

  “What can I do for you, Jim? What does telling me about this do for you?” I was having a tough time formulating anything but shock in the purest form.

  “It’s why I haven’t moved away. Yet I can’t go home for Thanksgiving.”

  Okay, I saw his mom and dad come into work, so I know they’re still together. Was that the problem? Was his dad still…?

  “My mom told me that your dad was going to tell your mom about them. He knew what my dad was doing to her.”

  “Did he?” My heart quickened. “Did my dad tell my mom?”

  “He was going to when they went to Colorado. Then he was supposed to take Mom and move away with her. Somewhere Dad couldn’t hurt her anymore.”

  Colorado. That’s when their plane crashed. When they both died. Him before her.

  “Of course he never made it back.” His head dipped down. “So Mom had no way out. That’s why I can’t leave. When I became older, I begged her to come with me and we’d go anywhere, but she won’t. I stay around to make sure Dad knows that I’ll knock the shit out of him if he goes near her with a raised hand.”

  I held my head in my hands. I was caught somewhere between hearing him and believing him. Jim wasn’t the type to lie. Why would he? But if I beli
eved my dad cheated, then my entire picture of him was crushed. Like Wesley’s. Was there anyone left who I could trust? Strangely, none of this made me hate Dad. But I didn’t understand him, either.

  “Jim, I’m going to take a walk.” I stood up and dusted off the back of my pants. A slight woozy feeling made me second step.

  “Amy, I’m sorry.” He got up and rubbed my arm.

  “It’s okay. I’m just really confused right now. I’ll be back.”

  I raced up toward the house, my thoughts running faster than me. What if Dad came back and left Mom? Did Mom have a suspicion of Dad? Did I? Are we just stupid, naive women? Is it in our DNA? To be left, or to be cheated on? If I hated Wesley for what he did, do I hate Dad? I knew our problems; did I know Mom and Dad’s?

  I opened that refrigerator, poured me a full cup of that rocket fuel and chugged. Tonight I didn’t want to think any more about it. I just wanted to drink this paradise and eat of its fruit. After the third cup, I didn’t remember anything else.

  Chapter Eight

  I felt cold. Was I in the bathtub with water that’d sat too long? Was I asleep? Was it still dark outside? Questions tapped on my subconscious, trying to get me to open my eyes. The muscles in my brow raised, helping my eyelids to do the rest. One at a time. The first attempt was blurry. I didn’t recognize the walls. Dark and not my apartment’s by any stretch of the imagination. Then I began to focus on what was in front of me. Another set of eyes. Brown ones. Watching me with a matching smile on his lips. I jumped.

  “Wesley!” I looked down and saw a sheet. No wonder I was cold. I couldn’t feel any clothes on my body. I slowly opened the stiff percale sheet to see what I was praying wouldn’t be true. Yes! My bra was there. I was pretty sure I felt cotton underwear, too.

  “Amy, I was wondering when you were going to wake up.”

  I held the sheet taut to my body and searched his body for clothing. The top portion of him was clearly naked. Please don’t tell me…