Almost Broken: If I Break #2

by Moore, Portia

  “It’s in storage,” I say taking a small step away from him, inches are good between Chris and I. The closer I am it seems like energy from him makes me want to do crazy things like cup his face in my hands, kiss his lips and feel all of the body that I’ve missed so much.

  “Can I see them?” he asks, interrupting a train of thought that I shouldn’t be on, one that leaves me flushed and breathless.

  “It could help with the homework,” he answers obviously noticing the surprise on my face.

  “Of course. I don’t know why I didn’t think to ask you.” I admit with a nervous chuckle. He gives me a smile that makes me melt. Chris has a way of making me feel like everything will be okay with the simplest gesture. I grab my keys a box cutter and more tape from out of the kitchen drawer before we head out the door. He follows me out of our apartment. When we’re in the elevator and the door is closes I see him gulp and close his eyes

  I hit floor fifteen and then the basement level. If it goes straight down I’m not entirely sure he won’t throw up.

  “You okay?” I steal a glance while I try and cover up my smile.

  “Yup,” he says tightly his hands folded together. Thankfully for Chris the ride is over fast and the door opens up to a hallway that leads to our storage area.

  “This is a pretty nice basement” Chris comments as he follows me he doesn’t miss a thing. I said the same thing when I saw it. It looks more like a big loft type office space than a storage area but I guess this isn’t the ordinary apartment building.

  When we get to the door of our space I let out a small breath. Last time I was here I was putting away Cal’s things. I never imagined when I came back to get them it would be like this.

  “It’d be easier if you stayed but if you don’t want to I get it,” his eyes sympathetic and his voice warm. I plaster on my practiced smile, I haven’t used it in a little while I hope it’s still effective,

  “No it’s fine, and there’s a lot of stuff,” I say with a laugh opening the door. There are at least twenty boxes here.

  “Wow,” he says as we step in. I fold my arms across myself.

  “Over there are his clothes he wore for work and shoes, underwear.” I turn to the other wall. “Those are his more casual things, you’d probably feel more comfortable in them,” I say. I started referring to him and Cal as the same person when we first made it here, it’s what I’ve been wanting to do for so long but since he started acting weird I thought it might be better if I stopped.

  “This is a lot of stuff,” he says resting his hands on his head and lets out an overwhelmed sigh.

  “He liked to have a lot of things,” I chuckle, nodding my head.

  “Can we start here?” he asks pointing to boxes of things I don’t think are his taste at all.

  “Sure,” I say with a shrug. He starts pulling down boxes from the top rows. He opens the first box and it reveals Cal’s variety of button ups, upwards of two hundred dollars a shirt. I see his face frown up as he goes through an endless array of them. He opens another box revealing his blazers, and vests. Box three is full of endless ties.

  “What do you think?” I ask quietly observing him as he picks through each. He looks up at me as if he forgot I was standing here. He shakes his head.

  As he returns to a standing position he sighs. “None of this is really me,” he shrugs. He goes for a smaller box tucked inside a larger one he’s pulled out. I already know what it contains, Cal’s watches. When Chris opens the box his eyes widen. He picks up one and looks at it then over at me.

  “Rolex, Cartier, There’s like twenty of these,” he says in disbelief.

  “He liked watches,” I shrug with a laugh.

  Chris isn’t finding this as funny.

  “There’s enough money in this box to buy someone a car,” he says disdainfully.

  “I suppose he only eats caviar and escargot,” he jokes and I feel a little offended.

  “Uhm no,” I say folding my arms.

  “It just a little a hoity toity” he laughs scratching his head and I feel my defenses rise.

  “He likes nice things but he’s far from being a snob if that’s what you’re referring to”

  “It’s hard to tell by looking in these boxes. I thought I’d recognize myself somewhere in all of this. So far I’m not seeing anything.”

  “This building, his clothes all of this stuff just isn’t me” he says looking at me as he pulls another box from the pile. His words hit a nerve and I feel myself biting my lip. I start to think that if his taste is so different from Cal’s that I’m probably not ‘him’ either.

  “The school does a clothing drive every year. Selling this stuff could make a lot of money for the fundraiser,” he says and I hear my breath catch.

  “You want to sell, all of it?” I ask abruptly. His glance catches mine.

  “I mean, if that’s okay with you. I just think most of this is unnecessary, it’s definitely not my style,” I swallow the lump in my throat.

  He wants to sell it.

  All of it.

  My face is getting hot and my heart beat speeds up. Screw the homework assignment and the visit to the doctor. I thought that this would be progress. That him seeing his doctor and coming here he would somehow connect with Cal, that these things would help him to not hate that part of himself. But after everything that’s happened I’m beginning to think that he didn’t come here to connect with Cal. He came here to sweep him under the rug, tie up loose ends. The next time he comes he’ll probably be selling the house and closing accounts.

  “I’m going to go back upstairs,” I say as evenly as I can.

  “Lauren, you’re not mad are you?” he asks putting down the box and locking eyes with mine. Of course I’m mad but I can’t say it.

  I break away from his stare and reaffix my fake smile.

  “I’m not upset. It’s your stuff. You can do what you want with it,” I say, trying to neutralize the bitterness in my voice as I head towards the exit.

  “Floor thirty, suite B,” I tell him before I head out of the storage room. As I head to the elevator, a single tear falls. I don’t know why I’m so upset. They’re his things to sell. What he’s doing isn’t wrong. They’re not even my things, and if he wants to use it for charity, for God’s sake, it’s fine. Still it feels like a dagger in my heart. Just another major reminder that he’s not Cal he’s Chris and Chris hates Cal.

  “Hey, wait, Lauren,” he calls after me. I stop but I can’t face him.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. I can hear his sincerity.

  “I really appreciate you coming down here with me. Not just here, but to Chicago and to see my doctor. I know none of this is easy for you,” he says and I feel him standing close behind me. I close my eyes and wish his arms would wrap around me, that he’d pull me close to him and tell me everything is going to be okay, but I know that’s not going to happen.

  As I step into the elevator I turn to face him.

  “I know Chris,” I say taking a deep breath. When the door closes I let another tear fall.

  HHH

  When he comes in I’m sitting on the couch with the TV on a random channel I’m not even paying attention to. It’s just on for distraction. He was down there for about twenty more minutes after I left, probably organizing what needs to go first.

  He’s sorry, which is great but it doesn’t help. In fact sorry makes it worse. There’s almost nothing worse in the world than someone feeling sorry for me. I don’t want his pity. His pity means he believes that I’m in need of it, that my situation is a complete lost cause. Huh, maybe it is, and if anyone would know it would be Chris.

  “I talked to your mom and let her know we’ll be later than we thought,” I tell him when he enters the room.

  “Caylen’s doing okay?” he asks and I nod.

  “Your mom said she just went to sleep,” I feel the couch shift with his weight as he sits beside me. I don’t look at him. I can’t, sometimes it’s just best
that I don’t.

  “That’s good,” he replies I want to ask him if he asked about her when he was supposedly talking to his parents but I don’t.

  We both sit in silence and after a minute he gets off the couch. He walks over to our sofa table and picks up one of the pictures and examines it. I turn my attention back to the Property Brothers even though I’ve seen the episode a hundred times.

  “I’ve seen this picture before,” he says and sits back down beside me. I glance over at the picture of Caylen when she was only a few months old.

  “Where’d you see it?” I ask him curiously. He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds as he stares at it intently.

  “I don’t know,” he mutters continuing to look at it like it’s a brain teaser. After a few moments pass I turn towards him.

  “Cal came back the night of Caylen’s birthday,” I tell him quietly. I think back to the night when I heard his voice and how it turned the little world I had been building upside down.

  “Maybe you saw it then,” I offer seeing how much effort he’s putting into looking at the picture.

  “My last blackout,” he says shaking his head.

  “He didn’t talk to you?” he asks confusion evident on his face. I shake my head.

  “No, he didn’t talk to me. I heard him talking to Caylen over the baby monitor. He gave her a bracelet. Maybe you saw it when you were here,” I offer again. He shakes his head.

  “No if I had seen it then I’d remember all of this. My memories are really vivid,” he says. That’s a surprise to me since he said he only see’s bits and pieces of things.

  “But I thou-” I’m about to ask when he snaps his finger and a realizations dawns on his face.

  “My doctor’s office,” he says as excitedly. I look at him strangely.

  “Your doctor has a picture of Caylen in her office?” I ask him skeptically.

  “Not the one I saw today. Dr. Lyce. I haven’t seen her in a long time, I stopped because…well it’s a long story but that’s where I saw this,” he says enthusiastically. I guess any mystery he can solve feels good when your life seems out of control.

  But that doesn’t make sense. The Scott’s said they didn’t know about Caylen unless they were lying.

  “That can’t be right, Chris. Your parents said they didn’t know about Caylen. They knew about me but not about Caylen,” I say shaking my head.

  If they lied about that, and they knew about Caylen all along I could never forgive them. He looks over at me realizing the same thing. His smile disappears completely from his face and he sits back further into the couch.

  “Are you sure that it was this picture and not another little girl?” I ask him feeling a knot beginning to form in my stomach. I hope to God he’s wrong. I’ve really taken to Mrs. Scott, but if she knew that Caylen existed and kept Chris from her and lied about it, there will be no going back. I really can’t imagine Mrs. Scott being able to keep herself from Caylen. But what other explanation could there be as to why one of his doctors would have that picture.

  “I know this is the one I saw,” he says putting the picture down and his head in his hands.

  “How they could do that? How could they lie about something like that,” he says anger penetrating his voice.

  “If they had that picture it had to come from somewhere. I didn’t give it to them. The only people who had that picture would be Raven, Hillary, Angela, Helen, Michael and Raven,” I say aloud to myself.

  “Who’s Michael?” he asks his head snapping up to look at me.

  “Just a friend,” I say quickly.

  “I guess Helen could have given it to Dexter and he gave it to your doctor without your parents knowing possibly,” I say trying to figure this thing out.

  “Helen is Dr. Lyce’s first name.” Chris says, and I frown.

  “What?”

  “Dr. Lyce. Her first name is Helen I think.”

  Are you fucking kidding me? No. No way.

  I shoot off the couch and grab my iPad out of my purse.

  “Lauren what’s wrong?” Chris keeps asking me questions, but my hands are shaking I’m so tense. I quickly pull up my photo album and scroll through to a picture of Helen and show it to him.

  “Yeah that’s Dr. Lyce,” he says hesitantly and I slam the Ipad down on the couch.

  “Unbelievable! Unfuckingbelievable!” I’m pacing the floor at this. HELEN was his doctor, my friend Helen. Helen who stood in front of me when I found out about him and pretended to not have a clue what was going on. I cover my face with my hands. I feel sick, the sense of betrayal washing over me. All of this time I thought I had an ally, that she was as clueless as I was.

  Helen has never been as oblivious as I was. How could she do that to me and Caylen? I feel angry tears forcing their way out of my eyes. Chris stands up in front of me bewildered.

  “She was my friend!” I say angrily. Angry at myself for being so stupid.

  “She knew all along. She was your fucking doctor?”

  I feel myself getting angrier and angrier the more I think about it. I think back to Cal saying how manipulative she was and how she wasn’t to be trusted. He’s a dick and she’s a lying cunt. I think back to our first conversation; she was probably analyzing me, seeing if I could psychologically handle all the bullshit they would put me through. While I was pulling my hair out after Cal left paying detectives thousands of dollars she pretended to be clueless. Smiling in my face and comforting me when she knew all along what was going on. I can’t take sitting here anymore. I grab my purse and my keys and head towards the door.

  “Where are you going?” Chris asks following me hurriedly. For a second I forgot he was even here.

  “I’m going over there,” I tell him.

  “We’re going over there,” I correct myself. I probably have more of a chance of getting in with Chris. He looks reluctant but screw that! This is happening with or without him.

  It all makes sense now. She’s been avoiding my calls.

  Well she’s not going to avoid this.

  Chapter 14

  Chris

  Coming here is a bad idea. I haven’t seen Lauren this mad since that day she showed up on my front porch. I want to tell her she needs to sleep on this. That coming here while she’s so angry isn’t going to help matters for anyone. I know she’s upset and she has every right to be but you can’t just act first and think later. But she says she just wants to talk to Helen, and I think talking will help.

  Talking will be good, I think Dr. Lyce and Dexter can shed some light on all of this. I have my own questions about some of the memories I’ve had. But, what worries me is the blank stare Lauren has had on her face the entire way here. Her expression made me kind of wish security wouldn’t have cleared our visit. Unfortunately that didn’t happen and we’re in. This building is even more opulent than the one Lauren lives in and when she hit the button 86 at the very top of all the other ones I feel completely sick. They’re in the pent house of course. Where else would they be?

  “Sorry, Chris,” she mutters and a few seconds later we’re going up, up is okay. Down is going to be the problem. I try to focus on the elaborate art on the gold elevator doors they probably costs more than my parents’ entire house.

  “Are you okay, Chris?” she asks tensely. I nod as the elevator goes higher and higher. It doesn’t help that it’s all glass and I get to see how high we’re climbing.

  “I think this is a good idea,” I say talking aloud to distract myself.

  “Great idea,” she answers tightly.

  “There’s a lot she can tell us. Dexter might tell us some things as well,” I say watching her expression remain impassive, she’s nodding her head but it’s pretty obvious she’s not listening to me.

  “We just have to be level headed,” I say.

  “Of course. Level headed,” she repeats. When the doors open an older woman wearing all black greets us with a small smile.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Scott. So good
to see you. The Crestfields are waiting,” that’s as far as she makes it before Lauren storms past her.

  “Sorry,” I tell the woman quickly following Lauren who’s walking so fast down the long corridor there should be wind behind her. She doesn’t stop until we reach an opening revealing Dexter sitting on a sofa with a glass in hand and Helen sitting beside him. Lauren stops as soon as she sees them, she seems frozen in place. Helen stands.

  “Christopher,” she says acknowledging me, her eyes linger before falling on Lauren. I notice her hands clasp together.

  “Lauren. I have been anticipating this day a long time,” Dr. Lyce says smoothly but her voice reveals her tension. Lauren doesn’t say a thing, she still has that same expressionless stare she wore in the car.

  “We know there are a lot of questions that you both want answered,” Dexter says cooly shifting his drink from one hand to the other.

  “There are,” I say folding my arms across my chest. Lauren is standing like a statue but I can see her breathing is distressed from the way her chest his heaving up and down.

  “If you both would like to come sit in the dining room,” Dr. Lyce says gesturing towards a room.

  “Lauren,” I say quietly, she still hasn’t moved or said a word. I think this is about to be really bad.

  “I understand how you may be feeling now,” Dr. Lyce says in a calming tone.

  “You don’t understand!” Lauren says bitterly.

  “I thought you were my friend,” she adds quietly.

  “I am your friend Lauren,” she says approaching Lauren apologetically. My eyes see Lauren’s hand sort of twitch and I’m not fast enough to stop it when it swings back and goes hard across Dr. Lyce’s face so hard that she stumbles backwards and Lauren pounces on her. I grab Lauren off her as Dexter quickly goes over to help his wife.

  “What the hell is wrong with you Lauren?!” Dexter shouts.

  “It’s okay,” I hear Dr. Lyce say as she gets off the floor.

  “What’s wrong with me?! What is wrong with you people! To think that you can play God, and manipulate people’s lives, lie and deceive them and then have the nerve to say, to actually think that you are our friends!” she screams hysterically as she writhes and struggles to get out of my arms.