by Cat Mason
“I did,” I whisper, trying to keep calm. “Every time I tried to talk to you, you thought it was me trying to tell you that I wanted a baby.”
Gunnar’s fist slams into the drywall next to my face and he roars. “I love you, Kennedy. Fuckin’ Christ I love you, and this is what you do to me!”
My entire body trembles, my face soaked with tears as he continues to yell at me while holding me against the wall. “You’re scaring me, Gunnar.”
“What?”
“I said you’re scaring me.”
Shoving away from the wall, he paces, driving his hands into hair. “This is what I was afraid of,” he mutters. “You want it rough, but when I get rough, I scare you. There’s no happy medium here.”
Rearing back Gunnar drives his fist through the wall next to the refrigerator. Pulling back, drywall falls, scattering around his feet before he grabs the dish rack full of clean dishes and scales them across the room. They hit the wall, bouncing off it and shatter against the floor. Gunnar’s chest heaves as he flexes his fists by his side. Fighting the urge to destroy something else he chooses to walk out the back door to the porch instead.
I stand there and stare at the empty doorway for a few minutes and try to decide if I should follow him, but I think better of it. Following him will only make things worse so I decide to clean up the mess he made instead. I grab the broom, sweeping up broken shards of dishes and drywall through tear-filled eyes. The door behind me slides back open but I don’t stop what I’m doing. Never in our entire relationship have we had a fight like this, but I’ve also never cheated on him before, so I’m not sure what to expect from him.
Finally I take a chance and seek him out, only to find him throwing his clothes from the closet and dresser onto the bed. The open suitcase and already filled duffle bag crush me more than I ever thought possible.
“Please stop,” I cry. “Please don’t do this, Gunnar. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
This right here is the moment when the train wreck I’ve been waiting on happens. I can see it with my eyes wide open. It’s a head on collision with no way to stop the disaster or get out of the way before it kills everything in its path. While the people involved and watching can see the destruction of the crash, if they survive, they have to live with the nightmares of what they’ve seen. You may be lucky that you survived the tragedy, but it could leave you wondering if making it through was worth it. It could leave you wishing you had shown up to the scene after everything was cleaned up because then you have the option to make up your own stories. Stories you aren’t afraid to retell about what you think happened will always be more welcome than the nightmare of what actually went on when you’re ashamed of the end result. Train wreck 101 is proof that it’s better to be a future tourist than it is to be a present survivor.
He continues tossing things around the room, but his rage seems to have sobered him up a bit so at least he isn’t stumbling anymore. “You didn’t mean to hurt me? Do you even hear yourself, Kennedy? Do you even think about the shit that you’re spittin’ out of your mouth before you say it? Not wantin’ to hurt me is a bullshit lie, because if you didn’t want to hurt me, you never would’ve fucked around.” Scrubbing his hands over his face, he groans before grabbing the alarm clock. Chucking it across the room, it ricochets off the wall a few feet from my head, hitting me in the shoulder before landing on the floor by my feet. “If you didn’t want to hurt me you wouldn’t have fucked around,” he repeats, sounding completely defeated this time but when he opens his mouth again he yells louder than I’ve ever heard him before. “You wouldn’t have fucked anyone other than me, let alone my best friend! Was his dick good, Kennedy? Did it get you off thinkin’ about all the other whores that have had it inside of them?”
I ignore the hurtful words he’s spewing even though I know they’re true and grab the clothes out of his hands. Desperate for him to stop, I grab everything he picks up to pack and throw it to the floor. “Don’t do this, Gunnar,” I beg. “Please don’t leave.”
“Do you hear yourself? You sound pathetic. You made the choice to be a whore. You chose to fuck Dixon. You chose not to correct me when I thought I knew what was wrong. You, Kennedy. Not me. I have never cheated on you. The thought hasn’t even crossed my mind to step out on you. Fuck, I’ve never even given you a reason to think I was! I never would’ve done that to you because I’ve seen what it does to people. I watched it tear my family apart.”
Grasping at straws to get this under control, I push the rest of the stuff from the bed and crawl across it until I’m kneeling in front of him. I beg, plead and completely grovel until I’m ashamed of how much I’m doing it, but even then I don’t stop until he silences me.
“You made the comment about not wantin’ to become a housebitch, but here’s what you didn’t realize. To be a good housebitch, you’d have to be a good housewife. Just because you have the bitch part of the title down pat doesn’t mean shit to me. Is that the whole reason you freak out every time a baby is mentioned and wouldn’t go off your birth control? Because you wouldn’t know who the father would be?”
I can see in his eyes that he wants me to tell him that he’s wrong, but I can’t. I wish I could shake him until he woke up and have this all be a nightmare, but I’m living, breathing proof that nightmares can happen while you’re wide awake. I can barely breathe because the longer it takes me to open my mouth and simply tell him the truth, the redder his eyes get and my heart breaks more every second.
“Part of it,” I finally admit, letting the rest tumble out of my mouth before he has a chance to cut me off again. “But mainly because we weren’t ready for that yet either, Gunnar, you know that. You just started as head coach and that has so much responsibility and stress and you didn’t need anything else added to your shoulders.”
Dropping to the edge of the bed with his back to me, he lets his head fall into his hands and his shoulders begin to shake with every breath he takes. I reach out, running my hand over his back and for a split second he lets me touch him before shaking me off. I cry right along with him, but mine is more obvious as I try to tell him how sorry I am through the sobs, hiccups, and lack of breath.
“Why him? Why the hell did it have to be him?” Standing up I’m shocked to find his face soaked with tears, his eyes red and glossed over from more than just the alcohol now. If I thought my heart was breaking before because he was angry, this is worse. Knowing I hurt him bad enough to make him break down and cry makes me rethink every single decision I’ve made in the past few months. I’ve never seen him cry like this except for the day he told me his parents were separating because his mother had done the same thing to his father that I’ve been doing to him. I can’t believe I didn’t realize that he would compare me to his mother because of this. I hate myself even more for not seeing that I was just like her and because of this he is going to despise me too. “Did you even think about what this was goin’ to do to us? Not just me and you, but us? All of us.”
“We didn’t mean for it to happen, Gunnar. It was a mistake.”
Stepping up to me he cups my cheeks with his large hands, wiping my eyes dry with his thumbs. It’s long enough that I almost let myself believe that everything will work out because he’s finally touching me, but I’m sadly mistaken and I know it the second he starts talking again.
“A mistake happens once, babe. Told Dixon the same damn thing earlier. A mistake is forgivable. After the first time it’s not a mistake, it’s a choice, and the choice you made tore my heart apart and I don’t think there’s any way to fix it. That mistake you say you made kept goin’ and made you a home wreckin’ whore.” Standing back to his full height, he wipes his face dry as well. “It’s a good fuckin’ thing you didn’t get pregnant because now you only have to feel guilty for breakin’ my heart and not a bunch of kids too.”
Gunnar steps away, grabbing the packed duffel bag since it was the only thing he got filled before I came in and got in his
way. “Please don’t walk away, Gunnar. We can fix this. Let me fix this.”
He stops, thinking about it for a second before turning back to me and covering his hurt and pain with anger again. “Was it just him, Kennedy? Did you only fuck my best friend or did you do anyone else? My assistant coach? A few of the teachers at the school? Did you fuck someone to get me boosted to head coach? Or did you put an ad on Craigslist and bend over for anyone who responded and wanted a piece of your ass?”
“That’s uncalled for,” I whisper, hurt that he would think I would do anything like that, but I can tell he’s grasping for anything that makes him feel like he’s in control again. “You know me better than all that.”
“Yeah.” He nods slow and deliberate. “I thought I did. I thought you were smarter than all this, but I guess I was wrong. You couldn’t have honestly thought you guys could get away with this forever. Dixon’s a manwhore, even you know that. Sooner or later he would have gotten bored with your ass and fuckin’ the same old twat and moved on. Or he would have gotten some disease and given it to you, and then you would have turned around and given it to me. Did you even think about that, Kennedy? You weren’t only puttin’ yourself at risk for shit by being with him. But on top of all that, what really gets me is the fact that you believed him. Do you honestly think that Dixon is capable of lovin’ anyone other than himself?”
“I can’t change what’s happened, Gunnar, but let me try and explain.”
Ignoring me, he continues to rant and I know it’s only to keep himself from breaking down again. I also know that I deserve worse than what he’s giving me right now. I deserve to be thrown off a bridge and forgotten about.
“Fuckin’ hell, Kennedy. The man’s nickname isn’t Tin Man because he goes around givin’ his heart to everyone. He has nothin’ but an empty fuckin’ chest where his heart should be and doesn’t care about anyone but himself. I don’t care what he says, or what he’s convinced you of. And I’m not sure when you became the brainless scarecrow in this fucked up version of the Wizard of Oz, but you better hope you find that wizard soon. Hopefully he has a damn brain for you. Something obviously happened to yours because you weren’t this gullible when I married you. You can’t just click your heels together to get out of this nightmare and fix everything.”
Gunnar storms for the door. Each step he takes is hard enough—angry enough—to rattle the photos on the walls. “Where are you going?”
Without stopping, he yells at me over his shoulder. “I’m goin’ to change your license plates. I think you need some customized to say home-wrecker so the entire city knows what you are!” Rushing after him, I snatch the keys out of his hand. Spinning around, he pins me to the wall with his chest again. “Give me my keys, Kennedy.”
“You’re drunk,” I argue, gripping the keys tighter.
“Are we just statin’ the obvious? Because you’re a lyin’, home-wreckin’, whore. Now give me my fuckin’ keys so I can leave ‘cause I can’t handle lookin’ at you right now. Just the sight of you makes me wanna be sick.”
I want to reach up and wipe his face dry, but I don’t move. Not because I’m afraid he’s going to hurt me, even after everything he’s broken and thrown tonight I know he wouldn’t do that, but because I’m afraid I’m going to hurt him even more. That’s the last thing I want to do. I wish someone would pinch me right now, telling me that the last few months were nothing but a daydream. That I never wrecked what Gunnar and I have worked so hard all these years to keep together. I wish that everything was normal, but based on the fact that I’m still standing here crying, staring at my husband who has tears running down his face, I’m thinking that normal is never going to be a word that will be used for us again.
“I love you, Gunnar. I’m not giving you your keys so you can drive off and kill yourself or someone else because you’re mad at me. Even I know I’m not worth it,” I mumble.
“You’re right,” he agrees. “As much as it kills me to admit, I do still love you. But as much as my heart is breakin’ walkin’ away from you, you aren’t worth me killin’ myself or gettin’ arrested right now. But I want my truck keys because I don’t wanna have to see you when I sober up and come get it.”
“You don’t have to leave. I will. This is my fault, you should stay here.”
Gunnar shakes his head and looks around the room before letting his bloodshot eyes land back on mine. “You know, if it had been someone random, a one-time fuckin’ thing, maybe I could process it better than knowin’ it was with Dixon. And I know goddamn good and well that it was more than once.” Reaching up, he pushes the hair that is stuck to my face because of tears away and a sob bubbles out of my throat. “Betrayal cuts deep, Kennedy. Wounds heal, but the deeper you drive the fuckin’ knife, the bigger the damn scar is gonna be as a reminder that will taunt you forever. If I stayed here, if I let you leave instead of me, I’d look around and I’d see you everywhere. I’d see everything you’ve broken, all the shit that can’t be fixed. Constantly. I can’t deal with that.” I continue to beg him not to leave. I keep apologizing, keep telling him how much I love him, but nothing is helping this situation. “I won’t stay here. I can’t be here with you right now because I don’t even want to look at you.” Drying his face with his sleeve, he reaches behind me and grabs the keys before stepping back. “Everything we’ve ever worked for you ruined by bein’ fuckin’ selfish, so I hope you’re happy with the outcome of your actions. As always, I hope you got everything you ever wanted.”
When the door slams behind him, the photo of all five of us from our wedding that hangs beside it falls to the floor. The glass piece of the frame that has spent years protecting the memory shatters, and the frame itself falls apart, sending the photo floating into the air before landing on top of the disaster. I sink down the wall, never taking my tear-filled eyes off the picture. I can’t help but wonder if this is fate’s way of showing me exactly what is going to happen to my life now that the rest of my heart just walked out the door into the darkness. Without the frame and glass to protect us from life, the slightest change can destroy what is left. The protection I always felt knowing that I had Gunnar at my back, followed closely by Dixon, Lynsey, and Mark, is slowly fading out, leaving me feeling like the slightest breeze could send me in a direction that I’m not familiar with. Knowing that has me terrified to see what the tornado that tore through our lives tonight is going to do.
I want to go back, to take back every bad decision I’ve ever made. I wish I could turn back time and make myself remember that my entire life, all I’ve ever needed was Gunnar. Maybe there was never anything missing before, and I can’t help but think the rest was in my head and I only used it as an excuse to step out. I want it to be a dream, but it’s all too real. I want to wake up and be back at the day that photo was taken because I felt invincible then. I had the love of my life holding my hand and three of the best people in the world standing by our sides. It was everything I could ever hope for.
Now all I have is a gaping hole where my heart should be because what Dixon left there when he told me to leave, Gunnar ripped to shreds and ground it into the floor when he walked out the door.
Looking in the mirror I’m met with a shell of what I used to see. My eyes, surrounded with dark circles, seem sunken in. My hair is dull, and my skin seems to be too big for my body. The clothes that used to skim my curves perfectly, accentuating the features that I knew drove the men I love crazy, now hang like a wet paper bag.
I tighten the belt holding my jeans up before throwing on a sweatshirt and pulling my hair up, tying it in a knot on the top of my head. It’s obvious to me just by looking at my reflection that I’m broken beyond repair. If I thought losing Dixon hurt, I had barely hit the tip of the iceberg. Don’t get me wrong, there is not one single doubt in my mind that I love Dixon, but losing Gunnar killed me, and losing both of them makes me feel like I’ve lost myself. They took the essential parts of me when they walked away and I can’t get them back
. There’s just nothing left, nothing worth scavenging anyway.
It’s been a few weeks since I’ve seen either one of them, and neither will answer my phone calls. I guess I can’t blame either of them for that though. I haven’t even been able to stay in our house because it hurts too much to be there without Gunnar. Lynsey, thankfully, has let me crash in her spare room indefinitely. She knows everything that happened, and I think she feels a little bit of guilt for encouraging me to continue.
Grabbing my keys and phone, I head for the car before I’m late for work again. I feel like lately I’m taking advantage of the fact that my best friend is my boss. I can’t seem to get a hold of myself and have called out the majority of the time she has me down to work since the night everything crashed and burned.
By the time I pull into the parking lot, I’m ready to crawl back into bed. It’s all I want to do lately, not that it helps at all. I’m not sure why I want to spend my time in bed, because it’s not like I sleep. Knowing I won’t wake up and have Gunnar back next to me in bed, or Dixon waiting to see me, makes me both not want to sleep and not want to wake up at the same time. Opening the car door, I make the mistake of checking my phone as I slide my legs out. The second I see Dixon’s name, I stop and swipe the notification to open his message. My hope for him to have a conversation is squashed the second I start reading.
I love u. That was never a lie. Always have. But I can’t hurt him anymore. As much as I love u I can’t be with u because I won’t rub it in his face.
That’s it? All this time ignoring me and he texts me only to tell me that he can’t be with me. I swear if there was anything left of my heart to break, it would be shattering right about now. I’m beginning to wonder why I even carry my phone anymore since it leads to nothing but more heartache. Opening the glove box, I stuff the damn thing in there and finish climbing out of the car.
