Author Anonymous: A True Story

by E. K. Blair

  I’ve purposely been avoiding this talk with her because I’m not ready to face the cold hard truth. Nothing good can come from this, I know that, but as long as I live in denial, I can trick myself to believe almost anything.

  “Say something,” she urges.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Pick the first thing from your heart.”

  I look into the eyes of the one person I know I can trust above all others and confess the single thing I’ve been trying to fight off with every ounce of strength my soul has. “I think I love him.”

  She drops her head with a heavy sigh as if that was the absolute worst thing I could’ve said, and a tear slips out, carving its way painfully down my cheek. I can’t believe my life right now. How did everything get so blurry? It’s not like Landon and I had any major issues, but then I met Alec, and BOOM, everything changed in an instant. Before I knew what was even happening, I was making choices I didn’t even know were choices, and I couldn’t take them back. And now, I’m not sure I would take them back because of how I feel about Alec.

  “He’s not a bad guy, Brooke,” I start to defend. “I’m the one that lied. He didn’t know I was married.”

  “But he does now.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “But nothing. He shouldn’t be encouraging you like this if he cares about you. He’d wait until you figured things out at home.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Because you don’t want it to be,” she argues. “I think it’s the thrill of sneaking around that you get off on.”

  “You think I like this?” My voice pitches, and I quickly bring it down. “You think I enjoy trying to juggle two completely different lives? I hate it. I wish I didn’t have to lie and sneak around. It’s beyond exhausting and only makes me feel like a horrid piece of shit.”

  “Then why do it? Why put yourself through all of this if you’re so miserable?”

  “Because I’m scared it might be the biggest mistake of my life if I left Landon. I’m afraid that I might never get married again and wind up forever alone. And what if I just haven’t given us enough time to save our marriage? I mean, I still have feelings there for him, but they’ve changed, and I’m confused about what they are. But what if our turning point is right around the corner, and I give up too soon?”

  “Life is full of what-ifs. There’s no guarantee of anything, so if that’s what you’re waiting for, you’re going to be waiting forever.” She sits back in her chair and takes a sip of her water.

  “What do I do?”

  “I can’t make that decision for you. I won’t even attempt to guide you in that choice. But I will tell you this, Landon doesn’t deserve this. His whole heart is invested into saving your marriage. He told Chris that things were getting better, Tor. You have him completely fooled and it isn’t right.”

  “I know,” I tell her. “Trust me, I know. I’m just so lost right now. You have to believe that I don’t want to hurt anyone. I know I’m selfish. I know I’m fucking everything up. But I don’t know what to do.”

  “You’re addicted,” she says, nailing it on the head. “You’re acting just like an addict. I know you want help, but the only one who can help you is you.”

  She then reaches over and lays her hand on top of mine, a loving touch I’m undeserving of.

  “Brooke, I know I keep saying it, but truly, from my heart, I’m sorry for what I’m doing and for abandoning you on this trip.”

  She takes her other hand and gives me pure compassion, saying, “I know you are.”

  “You should hate me.”

  “I’m mad at you—furious even, but I don’t hate you.” She then does the unexpected and cracks a soft smile. “You owe me. Like majorly owe me for this bitch move you made.”

  Her forgiveness cuts my wound of unworthiness even deeper. She’s right. Both she and Alec are right. I need to make a choice here to free myself and everyone around me of the pain I’m inflicting.

  Leaving New York felt like a lancing of my arteries, stalling my heart in treacherous misery. I woke up in tears that last morning, dreading the moment I had to leave the warmth of Alec to catch my flight back home.

  Home.

  Funny thing is, it’s Alec that’s beginning to feel like home, but it’s not funny at all.

  He held me, soaked up my tears into the flesh of his fingers, capturing my heart’s pain that ached solely for him. Alec tells me he likes it when I cry for him. I can only assume it reassures him that, even though I’m still with my husband, it’s him I’d rather be with. My tears offer a sense of security, and it pleases him to see the physical reaction my body has when it comes to him.

  Alec had a later flight out, but he rode with me in the cab to the airport anyway. I felt myself splintering as we drove further away from our collusive paradise. The anguish was overwhelming, and I knew in that moment, in the backseat of that yellow cab, that my marriage was over.

  The plane ride home was too short, not nearly enough time to drain all my tears. Brooke sat next to me as I cried behind my sunglasses.

  “I think I’m going to leave Landon,” I told her, and it was then that she dropped all her anger toward me and wrapped me in her arms. We didn’t speak after my admission, but when the plane landed in Boston, Brooke assured me that whatever happened, she would be there.

  Walking through the front door of the house I bought with Landon so many years ago, the house we brought our two children home to, was depressing. These walls no longer grant me comfort and serenity. I’ve destroyed everything our family was supposed to be.

  I knew what I had to do, but the moment my girls, my life sources, came running into my arms to welcome me home, I chickened out. They are the only things that are keeping me with Landon. With their skinny little arms around me, I couldn’t find the strength to rip their world to shreds.

  So the insidiousness continues.

  Since returning from New York, I was able to see Alec only once before he had to leave on a business trip to Dallas for a week. We’ve still been texting and talking, but his absence has left me hollow.

  I miss him.

  I spent an hour with Landon this morning in our weekly marriage therapy session. He spoke about my New York trip and how he’s finding it easier to trust me while I’m away. I felt sick to my stomach when he said this, but I buried it deep as I smiled at him and gave him a reassuring squeeze on his knee.

  We then talked about his need for me to be transparent with him. That if I ever felt like straying again, I should tell him so we can figure out what it is I’m needing and work together to fill the void. Landon told me to never be afraid to be honest with him even if I thought it would hurt him. But he has no clue the secret I hide.

  We left as we always do, a kiss in the parking lot before he heads back to the restaurant and I call Alec while I drive home. But Alec didn’t answer today.

  And now I sit in my living room, lonely and dismal.

  The phone rings, and I leap to life until I realize it’s the wrong ring. When I pick up my regular phone, I’m consumed with dread when I see it’s Tabitha, my editor. I’ve missed the deadline for my extension, and I’ve been avoiding calls from my editor and my agent these past few days.

  “Hello?” I answer, knowing I can’t avoid this situation any longer.

  “Madilyn,” she says, always addressing me as my author name. “What in the world is going on?”

  “I’m sorry. I know I’m late with the manuscript. I’ve just been distracted and the words aren’t coming to me.”

  “Then you need to call me, but missing two deadlines when we have a contract creates a serious situation. Every book is on a timeline, and when you throw that off by not meeting your commitment, you throw other books off schedule as well. I have to worry about the money being invested into the marketing of this book, and when you fail to deliver on contractual dates, it makes all of us look bad,” she reprimands harshly. “I’ve contacted you
r agent and advised her that the contract we have on the remaining books is being reviewed.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means there’s a good chance we might have to pull the plug on you.”

  Shit!

  “I’ve put my ass on the line for you, Madilyn, but we set contracts in place for a reason,” she says. “I can’t do my job if you don’t do yours.”

  “I completely understand and apologize for the delay. I promise you I’ll do whatever it takes to turn this around in order to secure my standing with you and the publisher. I’ve been dealing with issues at home, which has completely turned my world upside down.”

  “Look, we all have stuff in our lives that comes up, but you need to communicate with me when these situations arise,” she says, and I agree with her. “Tell me where you are in the book. What’s your current word count?”

  “Around thirty-five thousand.”

  “Christ,” she breathes in agitation.

  “I know it’s not much, but I can push out a good five thousand words a day and have this to you in two weeks.”

  “You can write this book in two weeks?”

  “I’ll make it happen. You have my word.”

  “Do what you can, but there are no promises on its publication, or at the very minimum, a monetary penalty to pay back a portion of the advance you received for this book.”

  “I understand.”

  “I’ll be in touch as soon as we reach our decision.”

  Oh, my God. This is bad—really fucking bad. I’m losing sight of my responsibilities, and I’m now at risk of losing the financial security of being published through a publishing house. For months, my entire world has been nothing but a foggy haze with Alec being the only thing in focus. I’m in a constant state of fight or flight, and even in this moment when I know I should fight, my first thought is to run and hide from everything I’m compromising. It makes me want the comfort of Alec even more. I want to drown in him, because drowning would be so much easier than fighting my way to the surface, only to have to swim to the shore that feels like a million miles away.

  I pick up my disposable phone and dial Alec. Again, all I get are unanswered rings.

  Something inside me snaps, and I break down in tears, crying for someone to take my hand and help me out of this. I want a mom or a dad who cares enough to save me, to tell me what to do. I want the touch of a protector to swoop me up and take me far away from this mess I’ve created. Alec has that touch, Alec has the qualities of a caretaker I desperately need right now, but he’s gone, and I’m so confused. I’m so torn. I’m so far from who I am.

  I no longer recognize the world I wander around in.

  I hear the garage opening, and I startle, quickly powering down my disposable cell that holds only one phone number. I shove it under the seat cushion that I’m sitting on and wipe my tears, but I’m a messy crier, and Landon knows I’m upset the moment he walks through the door.

  “Everything okay?”

  I nod.

  “You’re crying.”

  “I’m just having a bad day,” I strain around the emotionally swollen cords in my throat.

  He comes to sit on the coffee table in front of me—love and concern splashed across his face, and I hate myself for being the shitty wife he’s clueless to. He’s too good for me.

  “What’s going on?”

  Maybe this is the moment I tell him that I’ve flushed our marriage down the toilet along with every dream we ever made together.

  He told me earlier he wanted to know if I ever felt like straying, but can I do that? Do I manipulate the truth, not admit to my affair, but tell him I feel the need for one? Do I take a cleaver to the trust he gives me that allows me to be with Alec?

  How much longer can I hold myself together?

  Maybe I’ll tell him my need for someone else, and he’ll be the one to leave me, freeing me of having to own the blame of being the one who says it’s over.

  Pride is my enemy.

  “You told me you wanted me to be honest with you even if it hurts, right?”

  “Yes,” he says. “We need to be completely open with each other.”

  I hesitate, but I’ve already opened the gate, so I admit my half-truth, “I miss talking to Alec.”

  Landon’s face drops, and a new slew of tears stain me in my ruination.

  “Have you called him?”

  “No,” I delude. “But I want to.”

  “Why?”

  I want to say that I don’t know, but the truth fights past the lies. “I used to think that all a person needed to be happy was to find that one special person, but the idea that one person can be someone’s everything is impossible.”

  “I don’t make you happy?”

  “You do, but there are parts of me that you can’t possibly fill.”

  “What was it that he gave you?”

  He’s being so calm, and I draw courage from it, telling him, “His personality didn’t make me feel like his equal, and I found myself being drawn to that.”

  “I thought you liked standing by my side.”

  “I do, but I also like the feeling of standing behind someone. But that’s what I’m saying, it’s impossible for you to give me both. You’re either one or the other,” I explain. “Everything he was contradicted you, and he made me aware that I had these empty parts of me that I never knew were there, but now I do.”

  “And you feel incomplete?”

  “In a way . . . yes.”

  He stands and walks over to sit in the chair on the other side of the coffee table.

  “So what you’re saying is that you’re never going to be completely happy unless you have some sort of side piece in this marriage?”

  His words spotlight an instant understanding of something I never thought I could make sense of, and maybe I’m just so desperate not to lose either Alec or my family, that I respond with, “Lots of people have open marriages.”

  I can’t believe that just came out of my mouth.

  He looks at me dumbfounded. “Is that what you want?”

  I shrug my shoulders, unnerved by his reaction, but he stuns me when he asks, “How does this work?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “So, what, once a week we get a free night?”

  One night would never suffice when it comes to Alec.

  “And you’d be okay knowing that I was having sex with another woman?”

  It’s a frightening feeling when I realize that I want Alec so badly that the thought of Landon with another woman would be something I’d tolerate just so I didn’t have to lose Alec.

  “I mean, I don’t think it would be something that we would talk about or throw in each other’s faces,” I tell him.

  Landon leans forward with his hands clutched together. “That might work for some people, but that’s not the marriage I want. I would never, not even for one second, consider it as an option. So, if this is something you want, then I can’t be with you.”

  I save face, quickly responding out of fear, “It’s you that I want most, but you asked for honesty. And you’re right, it would never work for us.”

  “But you still think about calling that guy?”

  “I haven’t thought about him in a long time, but today . . . yeah, he crept into my head.”

  Lies. Lies. Lies. What the fuck is wrong with me?

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything,” I say in self-admonishment.

  Landon moves back to the coffee table and sits down. “I’m glad you told me. It’s not easy to hear that my wife is sitting at home in tears because she wants to talk to another man, but you didn’t have to tell me. The fact you admitted that to me, in a weird way, makes me trust you even more. You chose to tell me something that most would keep secret instead of acting on your impulse to call him.”

  “So you’re not mad?”

  “I’m not happy, but I’m not mad. I need you to be honest with me, always. I need to know how you f
eel so I can have the chance to help you so we can work through it.”

  Why am I doing this to him? Why am I giving him hopeless hope?

  “Honey, you almost forgot these.” I shove the tickets he bought for the girls down into the side pocket of his overnight duffle bag. “I hung their princess dresses in the back of your Jeep.”

  “Thanks.”

  The last time Landon packed this bag was the night he walked out on me almost six months ago, but now he packs it to take the girls on a daddy-daughter weekend. They’ve been begging to go to Disney on Ice, but when I went online to purchase the tickets, the Boston show was all sold out. Luckily, I was able to snag seats to the Philadelphia show, so they’re road-tripping it and making a weekend out of the occasion.

  “Did you get the snacks for the road?” Landon questions.

  “Already in the car, babe.”

  I walk out of the bedroom and holler up the stairs, “Girls, Daddy’s almost ready to hit the road.”

  They squeal as they clamor down the stairs.

  “Did you go to the bathroom?”

  “Yes, Mommy,” they say in unison.

  I grab their bags that I packed earlier and get them into the car. After hugs and kisses and Mommy-will-miss-yous, I walk to the back of the Jeep where Landon is loading the bags.

  “They are so excited,” I tell him.

  “Please tell me you charged their iPads.”

  I laugh. “Both are at one hundred percent and they have their headphones.”

  He closes the hatchback and then pulls me into his arms, an affectionate display I’m unworthy of.

  “So what’re you going to do this weekend?”

  “A whole weekend without kids . . . I’m going to sleep in and catch up on some reality TV.”

  He smiles down at me, adoration in his eyes that mine don’t mirror, but I do my best to fake it. Each day that passes, my heart detaches from his a little bit more, and it’s becoming harder to return his affections toward me. Landon leans down to kiss me, and I keep it a closed-mouth peck.