Bad Friend

by Carmen Falcone

  “I’ll text later,” she said, smiling.

  He waved at her, and got on with his route. Within a couple days, he’d tell Amanda about his relationship with Brit. He’d ensure Brit wouldn’t step in to take her mother’s place by any means, but she was special to him and to their family.

  Everything would be okay. He’d never been more sure in his life. Even if that meant parting with the idea from that old-fashioned, ideal family he fantasized before. Why not? And investing in his happiness didn’t mean he’d let go of his children’s welfare. Their happiness would always mean the world to him.

  When he parked in the driveway, he slid out of the car and shut the door, opening his garage quickly. Excitement to see his little ones pumped in his bloodstream. He opened the door leading to the mud room, then marched through the hallway and the kitchen. His mother certainly did a great job keeping his kids under control.

  When he stalked into the living room, he heard Amanda’s squeals, and she ran up to him, as if she hadn’t seen him for way longer than twenty-four hours. “Hey, love. Did you behave for Grandma?” he asked, and kneeled to give her a hug.

  She wrapped her arms around him, elated. “Daddy, Daddy, guess what?”

  “What?” he asked, skimming around the living area, searching for his mother and Trevor in the alcove leading to the playroom, where most of Trevor’s educational toys were scattered.

  “Mommy’s back!” Amanda shouted, about the same time his gaze lasered at the rocking chair where he’d expected to find his mother and Trevor. His blood turned into a block of ice, and his heart skipped several beats. There he found his estranged wife, Violet, holding Trevor in her arms like she’d never left.

  He curled his fingers into a fist, his nails biting into his palm. His mother, Amelia, appeared from the bathroom, with a tense look in her eyes. “Violet?” he said as if to make sure this really happened and wasn’t some sort of dream—or nightmare.

  Violet held Trevor in her arms and stood. She walked up to him, with an apologetic, nervous smile on her pretty face. Her blonde hair, usually curling at the tips, was smooth and straight, and her body, a tad slimmer than when he’d last seen her—and she’d already been slim enough. She wore jeans and a blue V-neck shirt, much different than the tailored suits and dresses she favored when she’d been his wife.

  “Damian, I’m home,” Violet said. “I know it’s a lot to unpack, but I decided showing up was better than warning you first.”

  Better for who? He took a step back, spine locking into place. He’d envisioned their meeting before, after she’d left, but not like this. He’d prefer the privacy of no children around to shout at her, but as he glanced at his mother and Amanda, he realized maybe this was for the best.

  “She’s staying, Daddy. Mommy promised she’s never leaving us again,” Amanda said, enthusiasm lacing her every word.

  Amelia bridged the gap between them, whispering to him. “Sorry, honey. She showed up an hour ago and I’ve been in shock too. I meant to call you, but—”

  “It’s okay,” he said to his mother. “I’m glad you’re safe and sound, Violet,” he said, staring into the blue eyes he once found sparkling and gorgeous. As a surgeon, he often had people asking him if he’d done any work on his wife, and he promptly denied it. Violet had always been a stunning looking woman. Yet now, a few feet from her, he felt nothing but frustration and contempt. He managed to keep a neutral expression on his face, the same he used when he had to deliver unsavory news to patients. “Are you hungry? I thought we’d order pizza tonight.”

  “I’ll order it. I have the number on my phone,” his mother said, smart in finding a reason to go retrieve her phone from her bag from another room and leaving them. “Can you come with me, Amanda? Tell me your favorite toppings?” she asked her granddaughter.

  Amanda glanced at her mother again, as if scared to leave her, and hesitated.

  “I’ll be here,” Violet said, tears forming in her eyes.

  Amanda nodded and followed her grandmother to the guest room where his mother usually left her stuff when she visited. Then, Violet put Trevor on the floor, where he sat and reached for some teething toys.

  “I can’t believe how big he’s gotten,” Violet said, breaking the silence between them.

  “You’ve been gone for almost a year,” he said, unable to hide the accusation from his voice.

  “Nine months,” she corrected him. A tear fell from the corner of her eye, and she wiped it with her index finger. “I’m sorry, Damian. I know I can’t take back what I’ve done, and I don’t expect for you to understand.”

  “Understand? You walked out on us, left a note, and besides a few cryptic calls here and there, never gave a crap,” he said, anger welling up inside him. He jammed his fingers in his front pockets, upset he still couldn’t yell.

  “After I had Trevor, I fell under a really bad depression. Postpartum psychosis is the medical term. It took me to a really dark place, and triggered dark memories from my childhood.” She threaded her fingers together, her face growing paler. The subject still made her nervous. “I needed treatment, but I also needed space. Leaving was the best way I could help the children. I’d hurt myself before ever hurting them.”

  “What childhood memories?” he said. He’d gathered she always had an estranged relationship with her overbearing mother and cynical stepfather, but he’d chalked that up to them being from old money and never approving of her move to the West Coast.

  “I was abused for years and managed to shut that from my mind. I stored the pain away and thought if I didn’t think about it, it wouldn’t come back. But emotions aren’t that simple,” she said, her voice wavering.

  Abused? He rubbed his neck, uncomfortable with the conversation. A part of him wanted to offer her a hug, or a squeeze on her shoulder. But he held himself back, and willed the sentiment away. “Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?” In over seven years together, he’d think she’d trust him with such deeply personal information.

  She ran her fingers through her hair, and even from a distance, he noticed her hand trembled a bit. “Because when we met, you were the bright, successful doctor who’d make any of my friends jealous. And you wanted was a well-bred, suitable wife. Would you have stuck with me if you knew I was damaged goods?”

  “Violet, of course. You can’t think I’m that superficial.”

  “You’re right. Perhaps our marriage became superficial, which suited us both.”

  He nodded. The anger toward her remained, but the frustration dissipated a bit, slowly. He gazed at her, and the pain in the depths of her baby blues was real. He’d never seen his reserved wife so vulnerable.

  “I don’t want to be superficial anymore. I’ve been working on myself, and I want to be able to share my story, my feelings,” she said.

  I’ve been working on myself too, he thought inwardly, remembering the conversations he’d shared with Brit. “Good.”

  She tentatively touched his arm, and peered up at him. “I know I can’t ask for your forgiveness now. But maybe we can try to be real husband and wife again? To give the kids their family back?”

  12

  Brit tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Maybe she should have called. But damn it, he’d made a surprise visit to her. Why couldn’t she? She looked at the door. Even though she had the house key for emergencies, being that Damian was home and his mom was probably still there, ringing the bell would be less invasive.

  “Mom, just do it. Don’t look so nervous,” Libby said, next to her.

  “I’m not nervous,” Brit whispered.

  Libby rolled her eyes. “Sure.”

  They’d hung out a lot as families, but after he’d declared his willingness to tell his kids about her, the idea of spending time with them made her hyperventilate like she was about to go inside a hot air balloon.

  Libby knocked on the door, vigorously, against social convention. Then Amanda opened the door and jumped at her best friend for a
hug.

  “Libbey. You’re not going to believe what happened,” she said, snatching Libby inside.

  Did the gift from the souvenir shop that Damian had bought her please her so much? Brit walked in, too familiar with the place, and dashed to the living area. “We ended up changing our—” she started, then her gaze collided with an image that knotted her tummy so bad, she felt immediate cramps.

  Violet, her friend, talking close to Damian. Violet’s husband and her semi-official boyfriend.

  Guilt sank inside her like a rock, anchoring her feet to the floor. Her gaze darted between Damian and Violet, more than once. The thumping of her heart muzzled the background noise, the kids chattering loudly and Amelia’s greeting her. She’d met his mother before, in passing and birthday parties. The woman still looked charming, even with a part of her face with the skin a bit thicker than the other. She imagined even with all the treatments Amelia could have done, when she got burned, she had the scars for too many years before her son turned into a doctor and could help her out.

  Brit stilled, hoping this meeting was some alternative universe and not part of her life. Not today—not when she was supposed to seal the relationship they shared, not end it.

  “Brit,” Violet’s sweet voice interrupted her thoughts. Before Brit released her tongue clinging to the roof of her mouth, Violet strode to her and gave her a hug. “I’m so glad to see you,” she said, sighing.

  Brit slowly returned the embrace, wrapping her arms around her friend’s. Heat spread through her cheeks, so she avoided looking over at Damian’s side. “Violet, when did you come back?” she managed to ask when her friend released her hold.

  Violet’s eyes were a tad puffy, even if a gleam flickered in them. “A couple of hours ago. I didn’t want to add more drama, so I came home first then I was going to call you and the girls. There’s so much to catch up on. How are you, my dear? You look amazing.”

  She’d come home. Home. The word stroked a chord with her, and hurt her more than just a little. At last, she strayed a glance to Damian, to find him restless, running his fingers down his face. He probably had been just as surprised as she. If he had known Violet was in his house, he wouldn’t have invited Brit to come over after their flight landed.

  “I’m stunned to see you,” Brit said. “Are you okay? We’ve been worried about you.”

  “I’m okay now,” Violet said, her throat visibly working. “I know I let you guys down by disappearing and not keeping touch, but I was afraid if I shared my idea, you guys would talk me out of it.”

  “It’s good to hear you’re doing well,” Brit said. Her friend had lost some weight, which wasn’t a whole lot to begin with, and a couple of dark circles under her pretty blue eyes. Poor thing. Violet hadn’t gone out to Europe on a vacation, Brit remembered. Whatever dark ghosts had haunted her, she’d needed to fight them on her own. “I’m sure the kids are so happy to see you,” she said truthfully.

  “I’m happy to see them too,” Violet said, her voice shaky. This emotional quality had never been a part of old Violet; she had always been in control, contained and graceful. The woman in front of her made Brit feel even worse for fucking her husband. “I hear a lot about you. Amanda couldn’t keep quiet about how much you’ve helped them when I was away.”

  “They are precious,” Brit said.

  The doorbell rang, startling Brit. She blinked, wishing she could just take Libby and leave, but her daughter was upstairs in Amanda’s room. If she dashed, Violet would no doubt find her behavior odd.

  Hell, she found it odd.

  The whole situation sucked.

  “Must be the pizza,” Violet said, and dashed to the door. “I’ll go get it.”

  Violet left, and Brit didn’t find the strength to move. Her breath caught in her throat, her pulse accelerating like she’d done a strenuous workout. If only.

  “Brit, I didn’t know,” Damian said, and she lifted her gaze to him, wondering if he’d find in her eyes the same emotions menacing her insides: frustration, guilt and emptiness. When her eyes found his, she noticed a redness below his lids, and wondered if he’d cried too. “We’ll talk later.”

  She shook her head, willing the intrusive thoughts away. What could they possibly tell each other? Was their love an inflated fling, or the real deal? Didn’t matter. She’d waited so long to hear loving words from a worthy man, and after all this, his feelings for her or vice-versa no longer mattered.

  The scent of cheese and pepperoni swirled around her, and she found Violet carrying three large pizza boxes. She shuffled her weight from one foot to the other, forcing herself to move otherwise she’d create roots on the spot.

  “Weird. My car is parked on the driveway, but wasn’t here when I came,” Violet said.

  Another ripple of embarrassment coursed through Brit.

  Damian grabbed the boxes from Violet, and casually said, “We weren’t sure when you’d be back. I sold it to Brit because it was just sitting in the garage. I can buy you a new car when you’re ready.”

  Violet smiled. “Of course. Oh, that was a good decision. Sorry, I didn’t mean to start anything, I was just curious,” she said.

  He’d buy her another car. His wife. Was that a re-affirming of his commitment? A part of Brit selfishly missed those moments when he showed indifference about his ex. Gosh, I already hate myself for being this petty. “I should get going. You guys have a lot to catch up on, and it’s been a long day,” she said.

  Violet touched her elbow. “No, please. You stay. I’ve been alone for so long it’s such a treat to see you again. My dear Brit. Tell me, what have I missed? Are you dating anyone?”

  Brit shook her head quickly. Heat spread across her cheeks and neck. You have no idea…

  Damian dashed through the parking lot, then around the hallways leading to his office. He had to go to the hospital for morning rounds, but needed to talk to Brit. For the past two days, he’d tried calling and texting, but she hadn’t replied to him. Today, according to the schedule, she was supposed to work for a few hours to help his assistant, and he would take full advantage of the time to explain his situation to her.

  The pizza night, two days prior, had been awkward at best. Perhaps Violet hadn’t sensed the tension between Damian and Brit, because the children stole the show with their stories about school and classmates. But Brit had barely spoken, and used an excuse to dash from his place with Libby as soon as she could.

  Poor Brit. He hadn’t meant to hurt her.

  “Dr. Forrest,” Adriana said.

  “Where’s Brit? Is she here yet?” he asked.

  “Brit emailed me a letter of resignation. She’s busy after that conference she attended, and won’t be able to do temp jobs anymore,” his secretary said.

  Frustration clawed his heart. “What?”

  “Yes. I’m sure we can find someone else.”

  Fuck. He turned around, ignoring his assistant’s calling him in the back. This time, even though he jogged instead of walking, somehow it took twice as long to get in his car. If Brit thought she could ghost him after he opened his heart to her, she was dead wrong. He drove to the department store, imagining that’s where he’d find her.

  Twenty minutes later, sweat covered his forehead as he spotted her behind the counter. A customer asked for advice, and Brit showed her some eyeshadow options.

  In the past, he would have waited for his turn, but the palpitations in his heart warned him he either spoke now or inhaled some blood pressure medication. “Brit, we need to talk,” he said curtly.

  The groveling he’d rehearsed in his mind was replaced by the frustration of her wanting to simply slip out of his life. Did she value her friendship with Violet more than her feelings for him? If so, what kind of love was that?

  She didn’t look at him. “I’m with a customer now, I’ll be right with you.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he said.

  She drew in a breath, murmured something he couldn’t hear to
the lady on the swivel chair, and walked to the other side of the counter, empty. “What?”

  “You’re ghosting me. You haven’t responded my calls or texts, and quit without at least letting me know.”

  “You knew I wasn’t going to work for you forever.”

  “That’s not my point.” He leaned over the counter. “Brit, look at me. I didn’t know Violet was at my home.”

  “I believe you.”

  “Good.”

  “I don’t want to be in the middle of your marriage.”

  “What marriage? We’re sleeping in different rooms.” And he’d been honest with Violet. He hadn’t mentioned Brit’s name, but he told her he was seeing someone, and as far as he was concerned, their marriage had ended the day she walked out on them. While Violet was gone, he’d sent divorce papers through his lawyer which she hadn’t signed—but that hadn’t changed how he felt about being done with her.

  “I don’t want to know.” She held up her arm to keep him from speaking. “I can’t know. Listen, Violet went through a rough patch. She’s back and I don’t want her to go to a dark place again. If she knows we were together, she might. Who knows?”

  “We’ll just wait a little longer to tell her.”

  She rubbed her forehead. When her gaze found his again, a dark emotion blazed in her eyes. “I don’t want to be the other woman. One thing was being with you when she wasn’t around, but I can’t sneak out on my best friend.”

  “Brit. Don’t do this to us.” He reached for her hand, but she jerked away from him.

  Hurt flickered in her eyes, tears brimming her lids. “Sometimes, leaving is the only way.”

  “No, no,” he insisted, anguish tearing at his heart. “We’ll figure out a way to tell her. She understood when I said I’m seeing someone. She didn’t make a big deal, and she seems adamant on prioritizing the children.”

  “So am I. I love your children, and don’t want to lie to them or pretend.”