Curveball

by Teresa Michaels

  “Not financially. It’s good for my sanity though,” he reminds me. After all these years he’s still trying to keep busy to keep his mind off of my mother.

  “I know.” I completely understand.

  My father kisses my forehead and takes a step backwards. “I love you, dear. You’ll be fine and I’ll be back before you’ve had a chance to miss me. Give Drew my best,” he says and then walks away.

  Agent Jackson is waiting for me when I re-enter the main lobby of the airport and offers me a tissue before I even notice I need one. I gladly accept this gesture of kindness as we walk in silence to the car. As we approach I swear I see Agent O’Connor, a member of Drew’s security detail, standing just inside the doors to the airport entrance. Is Drew leaving? I have no right to be curious or upset, but I’m both.

  I process this as Agent Jackson opens the car door for me. I step in the black town car with one foot and start to lower myself inside when strong arms hoist me into the car before the door slams shut from the outside. What the hell? I shriek with panic that quickly subsides. Familiar arms pull me firmly onto a very familiar lap.

  “Drrr,” is all I get out before his lips are on mine. My hands fly to his shoulders in an attempt to push him away. If I let this happen I might not be able to walk away from him again.

  My protest is weak at best and I quickly give in. His taste and the feel of his tongue against mine is heaven. I’m fighting against something I don’t have the strength for, something I don’t want to deny anyway and Drew knows it. I don’t simply let him kiss me. I kiss him back with a passion that is bone deep and filled with longing. My hands cup his face while our mouths dance in perfect harmony and I’m reminded of how natural it is to be with him. I run my fingers through his hair and he groans into my mouth. My heart aches for him and I can’t remember why I left.

  When I’m lightheaded and breathless Drew pulls back. In the back of my mind I know he’s done this on purpose.

  “What are you doing here Drew?” I ask, still panting. He doesn’t need to answer with words. His gaze is filled with anguish. He’s missed me and it’s my fault. It’s too painful to face him and like a coward I turn away.

  He gently pushes a stray strand of hair out of my eyes and exhales. “I haven’t slept since you left. I can’t think. I’ve barely eaten. The only thing I care about is getting you back in my life, Breanne. Tell me what to do.” He tips my chin up so that my face is level with his. I don’t lift my eyes. I can’t. If I look at him it will break me.

  “Drew,” I start but I have no idea what to say.

  “You’ve missed me too,” he says. My heart belongs to him but my conscience won’t stop torturing me. I want to tell him that I’ve missed him, too, but I won’t. I’ve already made up my mind that I can’t do this to Mark.

  “I love you,” he whispers. “I need you.”

  "You shouldn’t be here. I told you that I can’t do this. Please let me go,” I plead, trying to free myself of his embrace.

  "I can't. I love you," he tells me again, his pain evident in his declaration.

  "Enough!" I shout. It feels so good to scream. "Stop saying that."

  "I. Love. You." His voice cracks with raw emotion as he pounds his fist over his heart. “You belong with me. Stop fighting it!”

  “I can’t,” I sputter.

  “You can, you just won’t.”

  “I vowed forever to another man.” Drew’s eyes darken at the mention of Mark.

  “Your promise was until you were parted by death. Unless I’ve missed something you’ve fulfilled your obligation,” he barks. My mouth drops open and I gasp.

  I clench my jaw and slap him across cheek, shocking us both. "I hate you!" I hiss. It’s cold and completely untrue. I don’t hate him. I hate this situation. I hate what I’ve done to him. I hate that he’s right.

  A stream of fresh tears slides down my face. Regret over his words is etched in his expression. I regret what I said as well but I won’t let him know that…he crossed the line.

  “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Ya think?” I snap.

  "Please just listen to what I have to say,” he begs. His anger has been replaced by panic.

  "You ruined everything!" I hit him again. "We were perfect the way we were." My meltdown is in full swing. If he hadn’t told me those three words everything could’ve stayed the same. Why did he have to tell me?

  "Perfect? You think loving someone who doesn’t want to hear it is perfect? You can tell yourself whatever you want but it won’t change the fact that we love each other.” He places his hand on my heart. “Let me love you!"

  God, I want to let him love me, but I can't. If I tell him the truth, that I'm conflicted, he'll never give up. He deserves better. He deserves to find someone his age that can give him the perfect family and life. I wish I could do that...I can't.

  "I'm not moving on from Mark." I already have and I hate myself for it. "I don't want this." I want this so bad.

  "You're a shitty liar, Breanne." He can read me too well. Get your shit together, I tell myself.

  "This isn't love. We are physically attracted to each other, that's it," I manage to sound slightly more believable.

  "You don't mean that."

  "How do you know what I mean or what I want? You barely know me." Another lie.

  "I know you better than you think," he retorts.

  "You know my body," I say.

  "Then why are you crying?” he challenges.

  "Because you saved my life. I didn't want to hurt you. I feel indebted to you!" Once again I struggle to get out of his lap.

  "I don’t believe you,” he says.

  "This isn't an act,” I shout. I have come completely unglued.

  "Then say it." Drew yells back. He’s losing his patience. “Look me in the eyes and say it. Tell me you don't love me."

  He’s calling my bluff. I look away but he grabs my face and forces me to meet his gaze. I try to break free from him but he holds my face tightly. I need to end this. I need to look him in the eyes and tell him what he needs to hear to forget me. I take a deep breath and pray God will forgive me.

  I raise my eyes to his and stare through him. In the most convincing performance of my life I tell him, "I feel nothing for you. Whatever you thought we shared, you were wrong. You have no place in my life. I don't want to see you or hear from you ever again.” I am ripping his heart out...I can see it...I can feel mine ripping too.

  “You still haven’t said it,” he growls through gritted teeth.

  Removing all the emotion I can and looking him square in the eyes I say, "I. Don't. Love. You."

  If Drew’s having a reaction I can’t tell what it is. I want to crawl in a hole and die. Slowly, he traces his thumb lightly over my lips. He stares at me with an unreadable expression until he drops his forehead to rest against mine. He sighs heavily and I have to fight my need to console him from the pain I've inflicted. I’m holding my breath and shaking uncontrollably. He takes my hand and places it over his heart. “All yours,” he whispers.

  He briefly presses his lips to mine, delivering a tender kiss that speaks volumes despite the silence. When he pulls back he doesn't look at me or say a word. Drew carefully shifts me off his lap and graceful exits my car. This is goodbye. I should be relieved that he believed me but I’m not. How could he believe me?

  Seconds after the door slams I scream like I’m on fire.

  When I return home Sarah is in the kitchen. I can't manage conversation right now; I can barely manage to walk. I feel like an empty shell. Without a word I walk past her and make my way upstairs to my hiding place. As soon as the closet door is closed I collapse and break down. I don’t think I’ll ever get over this. How could I? I don’t deserve to. I am a horrible human being. Before curling up on the floor I pull a black shirt off a nearby hanger, wad it up and stuff it in my face attempting to muffle my cries. The door swings open and I nervously jerk my head up from where I’m lying
in the fetal position, worried that I've woken up one of the kids. To my relief, and horror, it's Sarah.

  "Here," she says, holding out a fresh bag of chocolate covered pretzels and a glass of wine. She closes the door behind her and I stare at her confused.

  "How?" I begin as she sits next to me on the floor.

  "Don't be so surprised. I've known about this ritual for years. Although, it helped that Drew texted me that you may need these tonight." I just purposely shattered his heart and he's still trying to take care of me. This guts me even more.

  Sarah places her hands on my shoulders as I uncontrollably sob. “What happened?”

  Resting my head in my hands, my eyes overflow with fresh tears. Where do I start?

  “Breanne, you can tell me,” she insists.

  I lift my head and meet her gaze trying to get my breathing under control. “The. Other. Night,” I stammer in between sniffles. “We. We,” I can’t get the words out. I am full on hyperventilating.

  Sarah watches me expectantly while I wipe my nose on the black shirt that’s smothered with snot. “You what?” she asks.

  I tilt my head to the side and raise my eyebrows. My internal monologue is begging her to understand so I don’t have to admit out loud that I slept with him.

  “Oh!” By the way one simple word slowly rolls off her tongue I can tell she’s surprised.

  “And he told me he loved me,” I tell her and begin sobbing again.

  Sarah rubs my back, trying to comfort me. “So why are you crying?”

  “Because. I. I can’t do this. It’s too soon. Mark. The kids. I can’t. And I.” I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. Using the only dry spot left on the shirt as a tissue, I blow my nose and toss it to the side.

  “And you love him too,” she replies.

  I shrug and use the sleeve of another hanging shirt to dry my eyes. I can’t bring myself to admit that yes, I think I do love him. I’m not sure…or maybe I am. I can’t say that I’ve ever felt this way about anyone else and that may be part of my problem. It’s bad enough that my heart has moved on. It’s worse to acknowledge that what I had before only consumed a portion of my heart whereas Drew has taken the whole thing.

  “Breanne, I have known you for too many years to count. I’ve seen you grow into a wonderful woman – a wife and mother. And I’ve also witnessed you go through hell and tremendous loss,” she pauses. “Since you’ve been back I’ve seen a change in you. You’re not just happy, you’re alive and a lot of that is because of what you have with Drew,” she reaches into her back pocket and hands me a wad of tissues. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do, it’s not my place. But I knew Mark well enough to know that he wouldn’t want you to stop living because of what happened to him.”

  “It’s not fair. This shouldn’t even be an option. He should have been here!”

  “You’re right. It’s not fair that he’s no longer here. But you are.”

  “It’s only been two years, Sarah!” I fold my arms over my knees and bury my head.

  “No amount of time is going to take away your guilt, Breanne. Moving on doesn’t mean you love Mark any less.” Sarah is always level headed and rational.

  “But what if it doesn’t work out?”

  “But what if it does?” Sarah retorts. “I’ve watched the two of you together. Anyone watching can tell you have something special. Don’t let guilt for Mark and fear for what may or may not happen keep you from being happy. You only get one chance at life. Feel blessed that you get to experience love again.”

  “And what about the kids?” I ask.

  “Your kids will love you no matter what and they want you to be happy, too. You’re a good mother, Breanne.”

  “I really screwed things up with Drew,” I admit. “I hurt him, Sarah.”

  “It’s not too late to try and right things. Just don’t wait too long.” She doesn’t have to tell me that life is too short. I feel like that fact has been rubbed in my face too many times to count.

  Sarah gives me another hug and asks if I need her to stay. I thank her for her pep talk and reassure her that I’ll be fine; I just need to think things over.

  I lock the door and shut down the lights once she leaves. I take a box of tissues back upstairs with me, knowing that I’m not cried out yet. I stop in the kid’s bedrooms, kiss each one of them on the head and watch for a while as they sleep. Is it really possible to be a good mother, keep the memory of their father alive and respected while starting over? I’m not sure. What I do know is that Drew did not deserve the backlash of my doubts or the hateful lies I spewed. When he woke up after being bitten by the snake he was so surprised that I had stayed. That has a lot to do with how Amber left him, and it must have hurt despite him insisting he didn’t love her. But he does love me and I left him. I’ve purposely hurt him. I’ve done more damage that she ever could have. I doubt this can be undone.

  I wash my face, get in my sweats and climb into bed trying to think of what I should do. Unable to come up with anything good, I stare at the ceiling replaying the evening in my mind. The silence is too empty so I quietly turn on the CD he made for me, and wonder when he first knew he loved me.

  My cell phone vibrates on my nightstand and my heart practically leaps out of my chest.

  “Drew?” I answer without looking.

  “No, it’s dad. I just landed.” Has it really been that long? It feels like I dropped him off minutes ago.

  “I’m so glad you made it home safe,” I tell him.

  “If I could have stayed longer I would have.” We both know it was good timing for him to get back to his life and routine, though he would have stayed if I’d asked.

  “I know you would have. I can’t thank you enough for being here.”

  “You don’t have to thank me, that’s what parents do.” There’s a long pause as I apply this to my own situation.

  “Dad, can I ask you something personal?”

  “Sure, what’s on your mind?” he asks.

  “Why didn’t you ever move on after mom passed?” I hear him sigh and I wonder if he’ll answer my question. I’m sure this is the last thing he wants to discuss after the last few weeks and a red-eye flight.

  “Does this have something to do with Drew?” he asks. His tone doesn’t give much away but I picture him having a disapproving look on his face.

  “Yes,” I answer honestly. Again there is a long silence.

  “I tried,” he admits.

  “What? How? You never dated.”

  “Actually, I did. I dated several women. You were young and I didn’t think it was right to talk with you about it. I never had a connection with any of them anyway so it didn’t really matter.”

  “Oh,” is all I can say to this revelation.

  “Breanne, I loved your mother very much. I knew that even if I met someone it would never replace what I had with her. And I would have settled for finding an ounce of the happiness that I had with your mother. But, after a few years of dating, I stopped. It ended up making me less able to move on. I missed her too much.”

  “So, if you had found someone, you would have gone for it?”

  “Yes,” he pauses. “Do you want to talk about what’s going on with you and Drew?”