The Ground Rules: Undone

by Roya Carmen

  “He went ballistic…” I trail off, my voice surprisingly calm. And then, as I tell her what happened, I cannot believe my own words. “He barged into his office, and beat him within an inch of his life.”

  “Oh fuck,” Gwen whispers. She knows Gabe’s history. She knows he already has a record for assault. She knows he’s done for.

  I’m consumed with worry for Gabe. But I’m even more worried about Weston. Will he be okay? “It sounds really bad, Gwen. Bridget told me Weston is in the hospital. I begged her to give me more details, but she wouldn’t tell me anything more. Her voice was so cold.”

  “This is bad news for Gabe,” Gwen says, stating the obvious.

  “I know,” I say, my words small. “With his record and his MMA training.”

  “He could be charged for aggravated assault,” she says. “His body is a weapon.”

  Damn, I should have known something like this would eventually happen.

  I bury my head in my hands. “Bridget is going to bury him, she’s going to skin him alive.”

  “You mentioned she was a criminal lawyer?”

  I wince as a wave of nausea washes over me. “Yes, and she’s a shark.” I know this; the way she carries herself, the intensity of her gaze when she gets a point across. And I also know this because of the stories I’ve heard from Weston. She’s sweet and lovely as pie but you can tell there’s a tiger, a whole other person hidden underneath.

  Gwen holds me tighter but doesn’t say a thing.

  I pry myself from her. I need to get to Gabe. I need to help him out. How? I’m not sure but I know I need to be there for him. “I need to go see him,” I tell Gwen. “Now.”

  Gwen is a godsend. She calls Caroline, tells her there’s been an emergency and asks her to keep the girls for a little longer. She drives me to the city because I’m in no state to drive. She repeatedly eyes the scrap of paper I’ve given her, calls Greg on her Bluetooth, and asks him he if knows a good criminal defense lawyer, or someone who knows a good criminal defense lawyer. The woman is all over it. She reminds me of Bridget. And as my thoughts are brought back to the shark, my stomach turns a little.

  I stare blankly at the road ahead of us, not taking in a single detail. I need to know more. I want to know more. I decide to call Kathryn and am relieved and surprised to catch her still at the office.

  She’s completely shaken up.

  She tells me a large man came barging in at around noon, dressed in sweat pants and a grey t-shirt. She tells me his hair was unkempt, he had a thin beard, and looked crazed. Apparently, she told him he couldn’t see Mr. Hanson without an appointment. But he barged in anyway and slammed the door behind him. She heard him screaming through the door, cursing, shouting unintelligible things. Then she heard the sound of slamming and crashing. She wanted to go in and help, but was too afraid.

  At this point, she decided to pick up the phone and call the police. She didn’t know what else to do.

  The man came out and fell on the chair in the reception area, no more than fifteen feet away from her. She tells me she has never feared for her life more than she did at that moment. She wanted to go help out her boss, but terror had her frozen to her chair. She ventured a look at him from the corner of her eye. The man was clearly distraught, he was crying; loud horrible sobs. He buried his head in his hands, and scraped at his long hair repeatedly. And when he caught her eye, she didn’t flinch, for apparently, all she saw in his eyes was sorrow. She knew he wasn’t going to hurt her.

  The man was still sitting in the chair when the police came and he didn’t struggle when they cuffed him, almost as if he wanted them to take him away.

  My heart is shattered as she tells me her story, and I fall into sobs. I had no idea this had wounded Gabe so deeply. I didn’t realize to what extent this could really mess him up until now. I should have known. Gabe always acts so cool — like nothing in the world ever bothers him. But it’s all an act. I should have known better. I’ve been so stupid, so irresponsible. I should have known he would blow up eventually.

  I swallow hard and take a calming breath, trying to retain my composure. My voice is still shaky as I tell her how sorry I am. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

  “Thank you,” she says, her voice sweet. “I’m okay now.”

  My words are measured when I ask her, “Why are you still at the office?”

  “I wanted to be here for Mr. Hanson,” she tells me. “And I want to be here for any news.”

  The seat belt strains against my shoulder as I sit up straight. “What is the news?” I blurt out, desperately wanting to know. “Have you heard anything?”

  “Well, apparently, thank goodness, it’s not as bad as we all thought. I mean, he was unconscious and bloody when the paramedics came. We all thought he might be dead. But apparently he’s no longer in critical condition, and they say he’s going to be okay.”

  A huge wave of relief washes over me…a tidal wave, a tsunami. “Thank you, Kathryn,” I say before I hang up.

  Of course, I don’t tell her the man who scared the life out of her is my husband. I’m surprised she didn’t recognize him. Gabe has only been to Weston’s office once before, and I don’t recall seeing her that day. Or perhaps she was there, and simply didn’t remember him.

  But I’m sure she will remember him now. For the rest of her life.

  When we get to the police station, we can’t seem to find anyone who will help us. We ask about a Gabriel Keates who has been detained earlier in the day, but the receptionist seems to have too much on her plate to give a rat’s rear.

  Just as I’m about to lose all hope, I spot Bridget rounding the corner, in a tight black suit, hair up in a severe bun, shoulders squared, her mouth a thin line. The shark is heading straight for me with evil in its eyes, a lust for blood.

  My heart pounds as she approaches, sandwiched between two other equally stern women in suits — other lawyers I assume.

  Gabe is dead in the water. I just know it. In a pool of blood.

  I can actually see the nostrils of her perfect nose flaring as she inches toward me. “Mirella,” she says.

  I struggle to breathe. “Where is he?”

  She glares at me. “How could you let this happen?”

  I know she’s not talking about Gabe. She’s talking about the baby. I don’t know what to say to her. Her husband’s child grows inside me; a life we made together. There is no worse betrayal. I could tell her it was an accident but she would never believe me. And it really wasn’t, we weren’t careful enough.

  I stare down at my flip-flop clad feet and my bright orange toenails, like a petulant little girl in front of the strict head mistress.

  Bridget turns to her colleagues. “Leave us,” she snaps. And they scurry away like frightened hamsters.

  I stand frozen, steadying myself for one of the worst moments of my life.

  “You too,” she hisses at Gwen.

  Gwen blows out a breath. “Yes, Sir,” she scoffs. “Mirella, let me know if you need me,” she mutters before leaving us.

  I find myself actually trembling and I take a step back, hoping to retreat to…I don’t know where.

  She stares at me for the longest time without a word, her eyes icy. “Don’t you think for a second this changes anything between you and Weston. He will no longer be seeing you. It’s still over between you two.”

  My heart sinks. I know it’s over. I’ve accepted that. But what about Gabe? Will he be okay?

  Despite myself, the waterworks take a hold of me. “Please Bridget,” I plead, the words stifled by cries. “This is my fault. And my fault only. Gabe has nothing to do with this. He did what he did because he’s angry, just as angry as you,” I tell her, desperately trying to even out my shaking voice. “You must understand that.”

  Her face softens. “Gabe will be fine,” she tells me, matter-of-fact. “He’s still detained. But as soon as I’m finished here, he’ll be free to go. Weston will not be pressing charges.�
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  I just stare at her. I don’t understand. How?

  I’m floored.

  “Really?” I say, the word floating above us in the stuffy room.

  “Really,” she says simply, and slides past me. Her two eager little puppies scurry and trail behind her.

  I stand frozen, my hand still splayed on my chest.

  Gwen makes me jerk when she grabs my arm. “What happened? What did she say? You look like you’ve just seen an alien.”

  “I think I have.” It was so surreal.

  I take a seat on one of the upholstered blue chairs and I try to figure this out. “I don’t understand.”

  Gwen studies me with curious eyes. “What don’t you understand?”

  I blow out a breath. “Bridget. She blew out the fire,” I tell her, not believing my own words. “She took care of everything. Weston won’t be pressing charges. Gabe will be fine.”

  Gwen lights up. “That’s great. What are you so freaked out about?”

  I don’t understand. I was sure she would bury Gabe. The man beat the crap out of her husband, her children’s father. And I’m sure she has the power to ensure he’s kept behind bars.

  Maybe Bridget cares more about Gabe than I’ve ever thought. Maybe it’s not just about a good time. Maybe she has deep feelings for him. Perhaps she loves him? I can’t bear the thought. I’ve never thought about Gabe and Bridget. I’ve always preferred to think of the two of them as not quite real, like characters from a reality show. Could there be more than I thought between them? Gabe has told me he doesn’t love her, has no feelings for her beyond the physical. Could he have been lying?

  “Can I get you anything?” the woman from the desk asks. “Would you like a cup of coffee while you wait?”

  I look up at her, stunned by her kindness. I’m sure she’s seen me crying and is trying to help out. I will take anyone’s kindness right now. “Yes, I would like that. Thank you.”

  Gwen and I wait for what seems like eternity. I call Caroline’s parents, explain there’s been an emergency and ask them to keep the girls for the night — it’s already past their bedtime. Her parents are on board but seem concerned. I tell them everything is fine. I can’t exactly tell them the whole story. I can’t tell them Gabe is in custody because he beat the shit out of some guy for impregnating me, all in the context of a naughty sex swap scenario. After all, our neighborhood is nice and classy.

  Finally, Bridget, Gabe and a police officer make their way to the front desk. I jump up and practically throw myself at Gabe. He pushes me away softly, with nothing in his eyes but contempt. I take a step back and watch them as they sign some papers.

  “I won’t be coming home,” he tells me, his words hard as steel. “Ever.”

  I watch him follow Bridget out.

  And I know we’re done.

  CHAPTER NINE

  This was his crime, not yours.

  When I get home in the middle of the night, I bury myself under the covers of my bed. But it seems so cold and empty without Gabe. He’s so large and usually splayed across our king-sized bed. There’s always a limb, a hand or a foot touching me and I love that — that small bit of physical contact. I miss it now. What I wouldn’t give to have just the tip of his pinkie toe touching mine.

  I slip on some sweats and a t-shirt and rush to go get the girls at Caroline’s. My heart is beating, like I’m half expecting them not to be there. But Gabe would never do that. He would never take them from me.

  As soon as they see me in the front hall, they both jump up on me.

  “We had so much fun, Mommy,” Claire tells me. And I’m so glad they have no clue what’s going on. They have no idea our family is completely unraveled. And I vow to keep them in the dark a little longer. I don’t want to tell them their lives are about to change, not just yet.

  Chloe pipes in, as giddy as her sister. “We watched a movie and had popcorn, and we played Barbies this morning.”

  “Is everything okay?” Caroline’s mom, Danielle, asks with a cocked brow. “You said there was an emergency.”

  I sigh. “Yes, uh…Gabe was in an accident in the city last night,” I say, blatantly lying.

  Chloe’s eyes grow wide. “Is Daddy okay?”

  I stroke her hair. “Yes, Daddy’s all right. He’s staying at the hospital for a little bit, just for tests and stuff. But he’s perfectly fine, baby.” Now I’m lying to my daughters too. It seems I’m lying to everyone.

  “Oh God,” Danielle says. “Was his nice truck wrecked to bits?”

  Oh shoot.

  Lying is definitely not my thing. I don’t think I’m clever enough. “Um…” I stammer, in a bind. “Amazingly, the truck is fine. Just a few nicks. It’s in the shop right now and it’ll be as good as new.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear it.”

  “Well, thanks so much for looking after the girls. You folks are awesome. I’ll pay Caroline handsomely.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that. She had fun. We all did.”

  “I insist.” Seriously, a few extra dollars is the least of my concerns. Unfortunately, I have much bigger problems to worry about.

  I walk aimlessly around the small gift and flower shop, not sure what to get for him. Unfortunately, there are no cards for ‘I’m sorry my husband beat the shit out of you because I’m carrying your baby’. I settle for a generic ‘Get Well’ card. I flip through all the cards which all seem so uninspired to me. Finally I settle on a card with a picture of the ocean and a sunset. Not exactly original, but I know how much he loves the ocean. I want a card that says everything I want to tell him; how sorry I am to have messed up his life, and how much I wish for his happiness, even if he chooses to no longer be part of my life, and how much I love him. I do truly love him.

  I make my way to the flower shop counter and consider my options. There are so many beautiful bouquets but they all seem so feminine. What do you get for a man who’s just been beaten? I’m sure he doesn’t exactly feel very manly, or strong. It must have been humiliating for him. I’m so happy no one saw it. I’m so glad I didn’t see it. The aftermath must have been humiliating as well — his employees finding him lifeless and bloody. But thankfully, as is my understanding, he was unconscious at the time. I’m sure he’s not looking forward to going back to his office. He must despise Gabe. He must hate me. Why didn’t he press charges? He must know about the baby. Bridget knew, so by extension, he must know. This is not how I wanted him to find out. There are so many questions I want to ask.

  I decide on a pretty arrangement of bright purple tulips. With their straight lines and minimalism, they are the most masculine flowers in the shop, and the contemporary clear square vase adds an edge of class.

  I take a seat on the bench, and stare at the blank card.

  My cell rings, the familiar tune jolts me out of my zombie-state.

  “Hi, Mirella,” Gwen says. “I’m just calling because we can’t find the Princess Monopoly game. Do you have any clue where it might be?”

  “It’s at the top of the closet, in the entry hall. How are things going?”

  “They’re great. We just came back from the park and now we’re ready for some lemonade and a fun game of Monopoly.”

  I smile. “Thank you so much, Gwen. I love you.” Gwen has been so great through all this. I can’t possibly thank her enough.

  “I love you too. Have you seen him yet?”

  “Not yet. I’m just trying to write a ‘get well’ card but I have no idea what to write.”

  “Just write it from the heart.”

  I sigh into the phone. “Easier said than done.”

  “And Mirella…”

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry about all the bad things I’ve said about him. He seems like a decent guy…not making Gabe pay and all. I’m sorry this happened to him.”

  “Me too.”

  I’m so sorry.

  For everything.

  Love, Mirella

  It’s all I can
think to write. Although I know I could probably write him a book, with all the things I’d like to say to him.

  When I get to the hospital reception, I encounter a frenzy. There’s a young woman with three kids in tow at the front desk. And there’s also a large multi-generational family speaking a foreign language. The place is pure chaos. When I finally get to speak to the receptionist, she tells me I won’t be able to see Weston. She gives me this spiel about hospital policy and security and confidentiality.

  I’ve got nothing to work with. I have no clue where he is. I imagine he was probably brought into the trauma unit, and later moved somewhere else. All the info I could get from Kathryn was that he was fine, bruised up with a broken nose, a broken rib and a head injury. She told me he’s staying in the hospital an extra day, and will be back at the office soon.

  I could just wait a day to see him. But I need to see him now.

  We desperately need to talk. I wonder why he hasn’t called me. He knows I’m carrying his child. Maybe he’s not in a position to, or healthy enough to call. Perhaps Bridget has forbidden him to ever speak to me again.

  Or maybe he just doesn’t give a shit.

  To not call and leave me hanging, leaving me to wonder, is the cruelest thing he could do. But I’m convinced that he’s not purposely trying to be cruel.

  I stand by the counter, in tears. “Well, could you at least give him these on my behalf? His full name is on the card.”

  Her face softens as she studies me. “Give them to me. I’ll see what I can do.”

  I’m in no state to drive when I leave the hospital. I’m still all shaken up, in sobs. I take a seat on a bench next to a small elderly man who eyes me with pity.

  “You’ll be fine, love,” he says.

  I want to tell him I won’t be. He has no clue.

  I sit there for the longest time. The small elderly man eventually leaves, replaced by a mother and her small daughter. The girl asks her mother why I’m crying. The mother shushes her and tells her it’s because I’m sad. She wipes her daughter’s nose and hands her a small container of Goldfish crackers and a juice box. The duo is then replaced by a sullen teen with messy long hair who doesn’t even acknowledge me. I like her the best. I can finally cry in peace.