Come Alive (The Cityscape Series)

by Jessica Hawkins

  CHAPTER 19

  I NEARLY COLLIDED WITH BILL in the foyer. “I was just coming to look for you,” he said.

  I fought for a deep breath, suffocating in his proximity. “I – I just have to run to the bathroom,” I said, backing away.

  “Didn’t you already go?”

  “There was a line.”

  “What are you talking about? I was just over there. No line.”

  I could feel David, sticky against my thigh, fingers digging into my face, and I needed to get far away from Bill. My heart stopped when I noticed he was peering at my dress. He reached out, but I jumped back.

  “Is that blood?” he asked.

  “No,” I hissed as I blew past him toward the staircase. I cursed as I hastened up it to find somewhere private. As soon as I locked the bathroom door, there was a knock and the knob jiggled. “Hey? Did you hurt yourself?”

  I went to whip the door open, but stopped myself. I loosened my shoulders and eased it ajar. “I’m fine,” I said calmly.

  “You don’t seem fine.”

  “Well, I am. I don’t know what that is,” I said, motioning at the stain, “but I’ll be sure to complain about it when I return the dress.”

  His expression was accusing and taunting, except that it wasn’t. He really only looked confused.

  “What?” I asked defensively. “Why are looking at me like that?”

  “You’re acting weird,” he said.

  “I just need to use the restroom.”

  “You’re turning on me again.”

  “Can this wait until we get home?” I asked. With a look that told him the discussion was over, I closed the door.

  Once alone, I gathered up the dress and splashed water on my naked lower half. With a decorative, perfumed hand towel, I tenderly wiped myself of cum and the blood from David’s hand. I was soiled. Used. Degraded.

  With shaky hands, I repaired my hair. Red scratches smarted from the bark and soreness crept into my spine. I gave myself one moment to crouch down and put my head in my hands. I breathed through the urge to break down there on the bathroom floor. Oh, David. How could you? How could I? What the fuck am I doing? I’ve completely lost control.

  Downstairs, I weaved through the ballroom and spotted Bill seated at our table. “I’m sorry,” I told him. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” And I was sorry. Terribly, terribly sorry; so sorry, that I was tempted to tell him everything right then and there. The lies were rotting my insides, and they might very will end up poisoning me.

  He took my hand, and I sat down next to him. “I thought things would improve after talking to Mack,” he said.

  I plucked my hand from his and crossed my arms. He sat back in his chair, waiting for an answer. “Well, that’s because there’s something else going on.”

  He looked uncomfortable. “Um, what?”

  “It’s – I’ve been . . .” I looked around, unable to believe that this was tumbling out of my mouth now, here, in the middle of a fundraiser. “I’ve been having doubts. The house, for instance. In Oak Park. All those things you described – birthdays, holidays, kids in the yard – I just can’t see it like you can, and that scares me. I think about it – a lot, and it gets in my head.”

  His eyebrows folded. “I’ve told you before, once everything starts to happen, it will all fall into place. You have to trust me, babe.”

  “No,” I said, wringing my fingers in my lap. “I really don’t see it. Especially the kids. I don’t know if that’s – that’s what I want.”

  A shriek of laughter across the room caused us both to flinch. Bill’s eyes drilled into me, searching for something. “How can you even say that to me? And here . . . ?”

  “I’m sorry,” I said again.

  He set his elbows on the table and put his face in his hands for a long moment. When he looked up, he seemed calm. “This is why people fall in love and get married. To have a family. That shouldn’t be news to you. I’m not giving up on my dream because you don’t feel like it. You’ve gotta get on board. And I don’t want any more sulking, k? It’s enough, for Christ’s sake.”

  “I’m not sulking. I’m really confused.”

  “That’s enough. You had better snap out of this, and soon or – or I’m gone.”

  “You’d leave me here?” I asked, taken aback.

  “I mean I’m done,” he snapped.

  A woman took the stage. The sound of her finger tapping the microphone scraped over me.

  “You’re done?” I repeated. “With me?”

  “Sorry to interrupt your meals everyone, I just have a quick announcement.”

  “You’re being unfair, and – ”

  “Earlier this evening we received a very generous donation . . . ”

  “ . . . quite frankly, really selfish. You’re not acting like the woman I married, and you haven’t been for a while.”

  “. . . fifty thousand dollars . . . ”

  I gasped. Fifty . . . thousand? Done? Leaving?

  “ . . . an anonymous attendee.”

  The room erupted into applause, but I sat gaping as Bill plastered a smile on his face and stood. He was threatening to leave me?

  I knew without looking of David’s position in the room; I couldn’t help that. It was as if I had a sixth sense that felt only him. I turned to him without thinking. He sat rigidly still and motionless as he watched the stage. He was the donor.

  My gaze returned to Bill as the ovation concluded. “What are you saying?” I asked under my breath.

  “Never mind.”

  “No,” I prompted quietly. “Are you threatening to leave me?”

  “No, I just – ”

  “It sure sounded like – ”

  “What I meant was – ”

  “You would leave just like that?”

  “No, damn it!” he yelled, pounding his fist on the table. I felt a roomful of eyes turn to us. He was quiet as he stared down and seemingly tried to regulate his breathing. He lowered his voice so only I could hear. “Never mind what I said, but put yourself in my shoes. You’ve been nothing but nasty to me for months, and I’ve had it.” His voice raised an octave as he sliced his hand through the air. “I’ve had it up to here with this, and you need to get it under control.”

  From under my lashes, I glanced around the room. Everybody had looked away – everybody but David. My eyes darted back to Bill. “Bill – ”

  “Don’t. This is embarrassing. We can discuss it later.”

  It was then that I realized his patience was approaching its limits. Bill, unperturbed as he was, rarely got riled. But when he did, it was a combustion – an explosion of all the things he tucked away.

  In that way, we were similar. I’d learned to shut off my emotions early on, and Bill’s parents had covered his up by keeping him busy. They’d instilled in him that feelings were frivolous, and it was more worthwhile to focus on tangible things like work and money.

  It occurred to me for the first time that maybe Bill and I had chosen each other for the same reason. For me, Bill was a practical choice who never tried for more than what I gave. In turn, he never had to dig too deeply. Because maybe he knew that if he did, if I did, we would both uncover things that would change everything. And for him, things were fine as they were. They had been for me too. But I wasn’t so sure anymore.

  I had drawn my lips into a tight line and was slumped in my chair like a scolded child.

  “Eat,” he said, motioning at my plate. I pushed it away. “Eat,” he coaxed gently as if he hadn’t just threatened to leave me and then taken it back. “I’m starting to wonder about your diet.”

  I picked up a fork and took a bite of grilled chicken to appease him, my jaw tingling as I forced myself to swallow.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  I felt David watching me, and I wanted to scream at him to stop. I couldn’t focus with his gaze glued to me, reminding me relentlessly that he was there – just so there.

  Tears sat heavy beh
ind my eyes, but I lifted my chin and smiled through the rest of the evening. I could not go moments without remembering what I had just done behind Bill’s back. I swallowed it until we were home in bed.

  Once Bill was asleep, I climbed from between the sheets and onto the floor. My chest stuttered fiercely as I crawled to the bathroom. When I hit the cold tile, I slipped the door shut behind me and doubled over my knees. I unleashed a violent storm of scalding, shame-laden tears. My hands dragged through my hair, snagging on tangles. I gagged through my sobs, heaving against the hollowness.

  I’d never done anything so appalling, so hurtful in my life. Bill trusted me, and I had pissed on that. I deserved every one of David’s harsh words. I wanted to wish it all away, turn back time and start over. But I couldn’t bring myself to wish that. As awful as everything had been lately, there had also been David.

  ~

  Bill was already out of bed when I awoke, and a mouth-watering aroma floated into the room. I put on a robe and sleepily padded into the kitchen.

  “Hey,” he said, excavating bread from the toaster. “Hungry?”

  I nodded and sat down cautiously.

  He casually buttered the toast before setting it in front of me. He passed me a mug of coffee.

  “I know I’ve been a mess,” I rasped. “And I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” he said without looking at me. “Obviously I didn’t mean what I said. I was just angry.”

  “You’re not thinking of leaving me?”

  He looked up and laughed. “Babe, really? No. Of course not.”

  “But you said . . .”

  “I’ve been stressed out too, about the house, about work. Hell, I’ve been stressed about you, but that doesn’t excuse what I said.” He studied me, peering at my face.

  My swollen eyes were red and puffy, I knew without even having seen myself. I started to explain, but he continued.

  “Besides, you know how I feel about that. People who separate or divorce have all sorts of problems. Things that run much deeper than what we’re dealing with. That’s not, and will never be, us.”

  I stared at him blankly. Could he not tell that I had been up all night crying, or did he not care? Anger crept into my heart for the way he ignored it.

  I remembered my eye-opening thoughts from the night before. True, I had kept him at a distance since the day I’d met him, but wasn’t he partly to blame? He never tried to break through, never asked questions he didn’t want to hear the answers to.

  I sighed and rubbed my eyes. “About the house and all that – ”

  “It’s okay,” he cut me off, raising his hand.

  “It is?” Overwhelming relief flooded me at the thought that he might agree to slow things down.

  “Yes. I know you’re stressed too. And I think I know what this is really about.”

  I inhaled as panic bubbled to the surface. “What?”

  “You’re afraid. I know you’ve never had a good relationship with Leanore. But you aren’t your mother. You are going to be a great mom.”

  “Bill,” I started, shaking my head sadly. “I really don’t think it’s about that.”

  “But it is, sweetie. You’re afraid, and I don’t blame you. Your mom’s been tough on you. But you’re not her, you’ve got to let go of that.” He paused to take a sip of his coffee. “In any case, this is not something I will ever change my mind about. I want a child – children. So you’ll have to, I don’t know . . . figure this out. Because I know, deep down, you want this too. If I believed you didn’t, we’d be having a different conversation.”

  My heart fell as he spoke. He was so convinced that this was right for us. He was asking me to trust him because he didn’t have any doubts. And then it hit me. I wondered if maybe, just maybe . . . he was right.

  CHAPTER 20

  WE’D GIVEN UP our respective Sunday plans to spend the day together, silently apologizing outdoors on an autumn day. We explored the neighborhood, drank beer in the afternoon and took a long late-afternoon walk to admire the way the leaves were changing.

  I had promised to try harder, and though it took every ounce of my energy, I put my sorrows over David aside and made myself affable for Bill. We made plans to visit his sister and her four kids the following weekend so I could see how alive a house full of children was. And finally, at his firm request, I agreed to stop taking birth control.

  He seemed vastly pleased in turn. It was only once Bill fell asleep that I fretted, and as a result, I had barely slept. There was no more time. Bill had hit the end of his patience. It was time to grow up, forget David, and make the right decisions with Bill. I owed him so much more than I gave him and now, I would make it up to him by trusting in his version of us.

  But there was something else to deal with first. Now, days after my confrontation with David, I sat staring at an e-mail that knotted my stomach.

  From: David Dylan

  Sent: Wed, October 03, 2012 02:26 PM CST

  To: Olivia Germaine

  Subject: Important

  Olivia,

  We need to talk. This isn’t over, and you know it. Come by my office when you get off today.

  DAVID DYLAN

  SENIOR ARCHITECT,

  PIERSON/GREER

  On the heels of his e-mail was a message from Bill, informing me that he would be by at five o’clock to pick me up from work. I sighed. I had things to do that would keep me well past five, but they would have to wait.

  I began crafting a response to David when Serena popped her head in my office. “Hey, boss. Beman wants to see you.”

  I ran my hand over my face in frustration.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Fine,” I chirped. “Just fine.”

  When Beman had finished upbraiding me for one of Lisa’s errors, I stormed back to my office and shot off an e-mail to David.

  From: Olivia Germaine

  Sent: Wed, October 03, 2012 02:58 PM CST

  To: David Dylan

  Subject: Re: Important

  David—

  I can’t.

  Olivia Germaine

  Associate Editor,

  Chicago Metropolitan Magazine

  ChicagoMMag.com

  His commanding tone both irked and flustered me, even over e-mail. I quickly scanned another e-mail from Bill, which ended by asking what I was making for dinner. I groaned, surrendering to the fact that there would be no peace today.

  And about that, I was right. Hearing from David stuck with me all afternoon and hurtled me into an open state of brooding. I played Saturday night over and over until my hands shook as I edited copy. My mind wouldn’t let it rest. He wanted to talk. What was there to say? He said it wasn’t over – but didn’t he know that it was over before it had even begun?

  I dreamed violently that night. Bill, David and Mark Alvarez each angrily demanded something from me. I had lied to them, they told me. I had made fools of them. I was the cancer in their lives. When Mark called me names, David and Bill somberly nodded their agreement.

  I woke heavily at the edge of dawn, wishing I could sleep for days upon days. Grey clouds mirrored my unrest. I crawled out of the warm bed and slogged into the kitchen for coffee. I didn’t want to upset Bill again, so I decided to cover my foul mood with pancakes, prepared with equal parts guilt and love.

  As planned, the pancakes diverted his attention. “This is a surprise,” he said excitedly. He sucked his teeth and rubbed his stomach. “This is exactly what I wanted, and I didn’t even know it. Such a good wife.”

  I let him kiss me on the cheek as I stared at the griddle with my spatula cocked.

  “It looks like rain,” he commented after retrieving the newspaper from the doorstep.

  “Great,” I muttered and flipped one pancake after another. Flip, splat. Flip, splat. Flip, splat.

  “Hopefully it won’t be too bad. I made an appointment with Jeanine on Saturday.”

  I pushed a stray hair from my face with my f
orearm and turned to him. “What?”

  “She has three different places to show us. Sounds optimistic, too.”

  “Aren’t we supposed to see your sister?”

  “On Sunday. It’ll be a productive weekend.”

  “I wish you’d checked with me. I have plans with Lucy.”

  “Priorities, honey. We’ve already rescheduled once, remember? If we’re going to start trying, we need to get going on the house. At this point, time is not on our side.”

  I gulped audibly, and my shoulders sagged with the weight of the news. Had he not heard anything I’d said over the weekend? Couldn’t he see that I was already making my sacrifice by going off birth control? I needed time, not another excruciating car ride with Jeanine. “About that . . .”

  “About what?” he challenged.

  “Maybe it would be a good idea to get settled in a house before we start thinking about a baby.”

  He resumed scanning the front page of the paper. “It takes some women months for birth control to wear off,” he said. “By that time, we could potentially be in a new place.”

  I felt my throat closing. Months? “No,” I said. I struggled to get the words out. “No baby until we’ve found a home.”

  He glanced up at me. I waited for him to react, uncertain of which way he would go, but he only gestured behind me. “Liv, the pancakes.”

  Liv, the pancakes? LIV, THE PANCAKES? Are you completely fucking oblivious, Bill? He turned back to the Tribune. After a moment, he chuckled at the newspaper.

  “I am not going off birth control.”

  He licked his finger and flipped the page. “Hmm?”

  “And I cheated on you.”

  It took a moment until his head shot up, and he glared at me. “What did you just say?”

  I actually felt my muscles liquefying as panic flooded my body. My eyes lowered and darted over the linoleum floor. The spontaneous confession hung in the air, thick and palpable between us.