by Shey Stahl
Thinking they were being sneaky, or just plain assholes, the Greeks built an enormous wooden horse with a hollow belly where they would hide men. So after the Greeks convinced these poor ignorant bastards this fucking horse was a peace offering, the Trojan’s accepted the horse and brought it into Troy. Cool right? All’s fair in love and war?
Not exactly. We all know that’s bullshit by now. Look at me. Anyway, that night as the Trojan’s slept peacefully, the Greeks snuck outside the horse’s ass and proceeded to slaughter their enemy. It’s pretty fucked up when you think about it, huh? Or genius depending on what side you’re on.
But in this case, I’m positive I now know how the people of Troy felt. Gutted.
Do you see that guy? The one barely breathing and blood pressure through the roof? If you don’t, he’s the one who looks like he’s going to kill the woman in front of him. He won’t, believe me. As we’ve discussed, he doesn’t have murder in him but he’s really upset.
Shaking my head, I close my eyes against the adrenaline hitting me straight to the heart. I didn’t want to know this truth, and I’m beyond the limits of furious; I’m gone. I can’t process this truth.
She lied.
She did it to get my attention and what, now she’s fucking pregnant? That’s probably the only goddamn reason she’s telling me this shit. She knows she has three kids now and no husband. Maybe she’s only telling me this because she needs my fucking money.
Is the baby even mine?
You have to admit after everything, it’s a valid thought.
Needing a breath, I breathe in, the sound sharp and sudden as if I’ve finally come up for air. When she says those words, when those lies became a reality, my feet and hands tingle, my whole life changing in front of me, out of reach because what I know is a lie, an illusion she led me to believe was a lie. A fucking lie.
“Ridley….” Madison’s voice draws me from my thoughts, and my anger hits me.
“Are you fucking serious? I’ve spent the last two months busting my ass trying to become the man you told me you needed me to be. I’ve neglected my business and for what?” I throw my hands up in the air. “So you and Nathalie could play me like a puppet and get a good laugh? Is that what you fucking wanted?”
Madison reaches out to touch my arm, only I jerk it away from her. I can’t have her touching me. “No, Ridley, that’s not it at all. Everything I told you was true. The loneliness I felt, the void you were putting between us, the constant neglect of your family, that was all true. I just wanted you to be around more, to care more.”
I pause, swallowing over the words, attempting to process what she’s saying, but I fail. The anger, the resentment, all roll through me and shake my bones. I can’t fucking believe this.
My thought process to those words is something like shock, then denial and ultimately, anger. She has to notice the widening of my eyes, the shake of my head and then the clenching of my fists. The words hit me like a ton of bricks.
“To care more? Please tell me you just didn’t say that.”
Can you believe this shit?
“To care more? Jesus Christ, all I do is care! Why do you think I work those long hours Madison? Do you honestly believe I’m happy working seven days a week, twelve hours a day? Fuck no, I’m not! I do all of it for you. I’ve spent my whole adult life working my ass off so we would never have to struggle like my mom and I did when I was growing up. You, Callan, Noah… everything I do is to show you how much I care. I’ve never wanted you to worry. I wanted you to have the freedom to live a life with luxuries and conveniences. I wanted your working to be a choice and not a necessity. Don’t you get it?” My voice is pleading, a man breaking apart at the very thought of losing his family over this shit. “Everything I’ve done for the past eight years has been for you!”
Her chin quivers, but she straightens her posture like she’s refusing to let herself cry yet. “I’m not your mom, and you’re not your dad, Ridley. I never asked for any of that. Never once have I complained I didn’t have enough things! No, the only thing I’ve ever complained about is that I didn’t have enough of you. I don’t give a damn about material objects! What good is having ‘everything’ when all it does is make you feel like you’ve got nothing?”
“It’s easy to say that now, Madison, but I never heard one complaint when I would buy you a new car, or we were able to afford the furniture you loved.” I know it’s a dick move to be bringing up all this, but can you honestly fucking blame me at this point? “All I’ve ever done since the day I’ve met you is try and be someone who deserves you and yet again I’m being reminded that I’m failing miserably.”
“I have never asked you to be someone you’re not.” She moves closer to me, but I can’t take the heat of her body near me. I step back. “The night we met at the Halloween party, the cocky, handsome son of a bitch I met that night, that’s who I fell for, not some workaholic who is so disconnected from his family he didn’t know his son played soccer. Seriously, Ridley, is that who you want to be?”
Goddamn it. She has a point. A good one. Still, I’m not budging yet. Do you see me? I cross my arms over my chest defiantly.
And then she continues with, “You can’t tell me that over the last two months you haven’t enjoyed actually getting to know your son? Callan has never been happier than he’s been these last two months. He’s always been content, but it seemed he was constantly trying to find a way to fit into a mold that he thought you would want him to fit into. I think he thought if he were more normal, then maybe you would be around more. You asked me why he played soccer? Well, why do you think? It’s not just to fit with the other kids. It’s because he thought that maybe if he was playing a sport, you would take more notice.”
Fuck, I know what she’s saying is true, but shit, it just proves I’m more of a fuck up than I thought. I’m doing exactly what I always feared, what I suffered through growing up and swore I would never allow to happen to my kids—struggling for their father’s attention. Throwing themselves into activities and behavior to please their parents. I did that for years with my own father.
“I’m listening to everything you’re saying, Madison, but you know what the problem is? All I hear is that you lied to me. That you filed for divorce to fuck with me! Jesus, I don’t even know what to say to you! Do you even understand how fucked up that sounds?”
“I know how fucked up it sounds.” She nods. “I do, and I’m sorry.”
“Why?” I shout, my voice breaking around the blistering words ringing through the yard. “Why couldn’t you have just fucking talked to me instead of making me believe you wanted out?”
Madison takes a deep breath before continuing, and even though her voice is soft, I can hear the embarrassment in her words. “I never meant to hurt you. I thought if I got your attention, you would see the life we’re living, the one where we were nothing more than roommates, and it wouldn’t be the life you wanted anymore.”
“Oh, well hell, you’re forgiven then.” I try to swallow, but I can’t swallow over the dryness. It’s impossible.
“Really?” She’s watching me again as if she will sacrifice the beat in her chest for the break she’s caused in mine. She’s completely freaking out but trying really hard not to let it show. I have to give her credit, she’s doing a good job controlling herself at the moment.
“No. Go fuck yourself.”
Is that harsh? Maybe so, but look at the shit she put me through by filing for divorce to get my attention? Whatever happened to saying, hey, dude, I’m feeling neglected?
The sky around us, once cloudless, rumbles and growls, turning gray, and I know the steady sprinkle is about to turn to a wall of rain, much like the night in Sedona when this all fell apart the first time.
Does it just rain every time we fight?
“I don’t blame you if you hate me,” Madison murmurs. “I expect it. No… I deserve it.”
“Really?” I shake my head. After everything, she has no idea how much she
deserves it. I look back at her, so furiously hurt I’m scared my voice is going to break, and I won’t get out what I need to say. “You expected it? Deserved it? Fucking right you do. Goddamn it, Mad, I love you. And not just any love. It’s the kind of love where I can’t even think straight. I nearly lost my fucking business trying to make you see that. It’s the kind of fucking love where I was half myself for sixty days because by filing those papers, you ripped out my goddamn heart!” I nearly faint after getting all that out, but the look on her face is what sends me to my knees. Nearly. But instead, I walk away from her because I don’t care what she’s going to say to me next.
In her mind, the conversation is far from over, and she continues to chase after me as I walk around the front of the house, intending to leave. “Just talk to me, please,” she begs, sounding like she’s ready to drop to her knees at my feet. “Don’t leave, please, Ridley!”
I fucking hope she falls to her goddamn knees because then she’ll finally be where I’ve been these past two months. Maybe then she’ll finally feel an ounce of pain I’ve endured.
But then again, I don’t want her to trip and hurt herself.
Fuck me for caring.
Turning to leave, Madison reaches to grab my arm, but I sidestep her. “No. No, I need to get out of here. I need to think.”
I can’t even think of facing her. She’s a stranger to me, and I can’t look in her eyes and face the reality that the woman I love, the woman I vowed to win back and have busted my ass to remind why we fell in love in the first place, isn’t the person I thought she was.
“Ridley, please stop. I get you need time to think, but please don’t run. Stay here. I’ll give you all the space you need but please, don’t leave.”
I stop. The quiver in her voice when she asks me not to leave is enough to force me to stay where I am. It only takes me a minute to realize that I don’t want to leave.
“Why?” I shout. “Give me one good reason as to why I should stay.”
“Because there are some things I need to say to you,” she says, like it’s that easy. She’s caught up with me at the truck as a flash through the sky and a loud crack of thunder silences the two of us.
The sound stops me, and I look at her, throwing my hands in the air. Racing through thoughts, trying to wrap my mind around my own hurt, I ask, “Why? Wanna make me feel like shit some more? Or wait, maybe you could tell me that baby’s not mine.” I motion to her stomach. “Is that what you want to explain?”
“Damn it, Ridley, please.” She breaths out deeply, frustration clear on her face. “Don’t walk away. I just want to talk to you calmly.”
Can you believe her? This is just crazy shit, right?
“You can’t stand here and tell me you fucking filed for divorce to get my attention. Who fucking does that, Madison? That’s some serious bullshit. You’re not a kid anymore. That’s not how married people communicate. It doesn’t work that way, Madison.”
“Why can’t I explain?” She sounds confused, and I want to laugh in her face. Unbelievable.
My stomach lurches and I feel like we’re back in that hotel lobby, my confusion and sadness twisting into more anger and resentment.
“You know what, fuck you!” I reach for the handle of my truck, hoping she will finally leave me alone and give up just like I did.
Of course she doesn’t and puts her hand over mine, and I’m pissed to no end. I face her, my eyes fixated on hers. “When did you find out you were pregnant? Was that part of your plan too? Get pregnant so you could take more of my money in the divorce?”
Madison groans as if hearing my words makes her sick to her stomach. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t intend on getting pregnant but apparently that morning in the shower, well, that’s when it happened,” she says, looking like she’s really going to vomit. “I found out a few days before we left for Sedona. That’s why I agreed to go with you despite not wanting to. I knew we needed to work on things.”
Agreed to go with me? I don’t remember it going down like that. It was more along the lines of me begging and her agreeing because Callan was standing next to us, but whatever.
By the look on her face, which is pale, she really looks like she’s going to vomit now. I hope she throws up. I hoped all of this has made her physically sick because maybe it’s a fraction of what I’ve been going through these last few days knowing my marriage to a woman I loved more than life itself was over.
Looking up at her, I have to ask, “Then why didn’t you try in Sedona? Why did you go to lunch with Thomas and blow me off if you’re pregnant with my baby and wanting to make it work? Do you have any idea how I feel right now?”
She starts crying, slow tears at first but I know what’s coming. “I don’t know—”
“Shut up.” I’m so frustrated with the same bullshit answers. “Just stop talking.”
We stand there staring at one another. She’s afraid to speak, probably since I just told her to shut up and I’m terrified to say anything else.
Truth is, I don’t want to hurt her. Drawing in a heavy breath, I let it out slowly and shake my head. Madison attempts to reach for my hand, her footing off somehow and slips on the wet concrete.
I catch her, my hands supporting under her elbows as she studies her footing knowing damn well we shouldn’t be standing outside in a thunderstorm. “Go inside the house, I’ll follow you.”
Jesus, don’t look at me like that. No, I’m not going to murder her. I don’t have murder in me and despite this anger and pain taking over, I still love Madison. Unfortunately, that will never ever go away. I say unfortunately because if you haven’t noticed by now, these past couple months have fucking sucked balls.
Literally.
Once we’re inside the house, our shoes squeaking against the tile entry way, I’m reminded of why I built this house and how beautiful it turned out. Everything from the imported wood floors in the family room, the black cabinets she said she always wanted to the granite countertops with the black and gold streaks.
I think it’s also the first time Madison has seen the inside despite the fact I gave her the keys a week ago. She gasps, her hand over her mouth and turns to look at me. “Oh my God, Ridley, it’s beautiful.”
I don’t say anything. A thank-you doesn’t seem appropriate.
Twisting around, I want to tell her how much it hurts to be in this house and have this reaction from her. I almost want her to hate the house, as crazy as that sounds. It hurts because inside, it feels like nothing is ever going to be the same again. I don’t say anything as her eyes roam around the house from the exotic hardwood floors we ordered from South Africa, the ones with my DNA on them from where they ripped my thumbnail off, to the kitchen with her commercial appliances she asked for to the French doors leading out to the outdoor kitchen.
Bowing her head, her hands rise to cover her face.
Bringing in a breath, I let it out with a whoosh. “Looks like the rain’s letting up. I’m going to go now.”
“Please don’t leave.” She steps toward me, her hand on my forearm. “I want to talk about things.”
My eyes drop to her hand on me, and then to her eyes. “I can’t do that.” As my luck would have it, the rain picks up again.
Fuck you Mother Nature. You’re really pissing me off.
“Please stay.”
I shake my head, barely able to stand here without feeling like my body will give out. “I can’t.”
“You can’t or won’t?”
“Won’t.”
“Well…” She hangs her head, hand falling away. “That changes things then.”
I stare her down, making sure she knows exactly what I mean. “As it should, Mad.”
“I thought by doing it, you’d see what was happening to us, and you did. Our problems lay a lot deeper than either of us wanted to admit, but you have to admit by me doing it, you finally saw what I was talking about,” she says, shaking her head and throwing her arms up, as if she’s c
ompletely lost all hope. “I’m so unbelievably sorry for the way I went about it, but I’m not sorry for you finally seeing our marriage wasn’t perfect like you thought it was.”
Remember when I said Madison can’t make a decision to save her life and is constantly changing her mind? Exactly my goddamn point. She made the decision to file for divorce and then she didn’t know what to do because she wasn’t sure about it.
“I feel like I don’t even know who you are… like I never knew,” I mumble, hoping she heard me. “If I didn’t know how bad things were, I obviously didn’t know you.”
“You do know me.” Her voice comes out shattered. Her appearance isn’t any better as she pushes herself against the wall in the entryway and slides to the floor.
“No, I don’t.” Shaking my head, I repeat, “I don’t know you because the Madison I knew would have come and talked to me before it got so bad to the point where she felt it was necessary to lie to me to get my attention. And then when she did have my attention, she wouldn’t have given me the cold shoulder.”
This girl at my feet, the one who filed for divorce and then lied to me about it for sixty days, I don’t know her. I don’t.
Madison stares up at me, and for a moment, she lets me see just how truly tired she is of this. How completely beat down she had become by this one secret, the one thing she knew would destroy us if she admitted the truth. The man still in love with her, he wants to help her, ease the burden, letting her know she didn’t have to deal with it alone, even though I’m the one hurting here. But the thing is, I wouldn’t be me if I let her deal with this alone because I’d be doing the same thing I hated about my own father.
Madison frowns, as if she can see I’m trying to make sense of this and I wait for her to say something, tell me this is all a sick joke, but she doesn’t.
Something flickers behind her eyes, but she blinks, and it’s gone, a thought she’ll never put words to. And then, as I let go and lean against the wall, sliding down to sit across from her, she asks, “Can you hear me out?”
In just those few words, something in her tone—something buried deep inside that makes me curious as to what she might say to me to make this all right, to make her lies warranted.
