Giving Up for You

by L. M. Carr

  I look up to face him so he can see what he’s done. He needs to see my devastation. He needs to know what he’s done to me. To us. His cheeks are wet from tears that he tried so hard to hold in. I know he’s hurting; I know he feels guilty for what he’s done. His palms cup my face, his sad eyes look into mine and without hesitation he lowers his mouth. I don’t want to kiss him and yet I do. I don’t want to feel his body against mine and yet I don’t stop him. I want to wake up from this nightmare. I am desperate for him.

  My hands reach up and grab the back of his head, fisting his hair, pulling him closer. He gives me what I need at that moment. Thoughts of angry, drunken words are forgotten as are the images of him fucking the redhead. Right now, it’s just us.

  He guides us to the Chesterfield couch in his office and pulls my shirt over my head, fondling my breasts through my bra. He moves my bra to the side, exposing my taut nipple, swirling his tongue around while he licks and kisses it. The rest of our clothes are shed without thought or care for the repercussions of our actions.

  He enters me with such force, I gasp out loud. My body is not ready for the onslaught of his body against mine. I want it hard. I need it hard. I need to feel something other than indescribable pain caused by this very same man. My legs wrap around his hips, meeting his every thrust until the buildup is too much to take and I cry out, screaming his name as I come.

  The pace is slowed down like he’s savoring me while I cry into his shoulder. He pushes up and angles his body to find his rhythm. He’s trying to control himself; he’s trying to prolong this, but he can’t. When he finds his release, he doesn’t grunt or yell. He keeps his eyes open, focused entirely on my face, only closing them briefly before inhaling deeply and reopening them. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t tell me how much he loves me. Instead, he exhales sharply and places a single kiss in the crook of my neck, before standing up to get dressed. I cover my face with shame when he leaves the room without a single word. Never in my life have I felt more used. I feel like a whore.

  I came here to talk, but I just got fucked. Adam didn’t make love to me. He fucked me like he used to do to all those other women. I wonder if he’s left a hundred dollar bill for me.

  As I get dressed, I bend down to look under the couch because I can’t find the light blue infinity scarf that I was wearing. I walk over to his desk chair, searching for the scarf that Shelby gave me for Christmas and notice the screensaver on his laptop is the same as it’s been for awhile. It’s a picture of the four of us and Brady from Christmas. God—that seems like so long ago. I glance at the door and hear him talking to what I assume is someone on the phone. I quickly enter the password to unlock his laptop; it doesn’t work. He must’ve changed it. I wonder why he’s done that. I’m sure it has something to do with whatever he was typing before.

  In the kitchen, I find Adam standing there, looking through the sliding glass door, out to his backyard. His phone is to his ear. “No, it’s fine. I’m here. Okay. Just come right in.”

  “Adam.” I wait for him to turn around, but he doesn’t. “Can you please look at me?” I mustn’t cry. I can do this. I can confront him like an adult.

  “What?” He turns to face me. On his handsome face, there is an expression of emptiness; it’s devoid of emotion. “What do you want from me?” His mask slips for a moment when he inhales sharply.

  “I want to know what happened Friday night. I think I deserve to know why you’ve hurt me like this when you promised over and over that you never would. Don’t I deserve that much?” I blink away the tears that threaten.

  “I thought I could change, but I can’t.” Is he going to confess what happened at the bar with the redhead? “It wouldn’t have lasted anyway.”

  He crushes me again with his words. He asked me to marry him.

  “Adam, you pursued me, made me fall in love with you, let me love your kids and asked me to be your wife.”

  Those words force him to blink hard several times.

  “I wish you would talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. If you’ve changed your mind, we can talk about it. We can work it out. Please tell me what’s happened.” I beg.

  His chest rises and falls with a deep inhale. “I already told you. I fuck people over.”

  “So this is you telling me that you’ve fucked me over?” My eyes bulge at his confession. “Did you have a quick fuck with that redheaded woman at the bar like we just did in your office? Was she worth it?” I want to berate him. I want to hurt him like he’s hurting me.

  “How do you know about her?”

  “Shane told me this morning before he left.” I spit out and wait for his reaction.

  He looks murderous as his eyes narrow and his jaw tightens. His mouth opens and immediately closes. Whatever he was going to say isn’t revealed.

  I hiccup as I slide the delicate diamond ring off of my finger and place it on the island. I notice his eyes have dropped to the ring. “I don’t want this. I can’t marry someone who lies and cheats. I thought you were different. I thought I knew you. I’ve never been so wrong in my entire life. I don’t even know who you are right now.”

  “I don’t want that.” His words are directed at the ring.

  “I don’t either. It doesn’t mean anything anymore.”

  “I said I don’t want it.” He raises his voice this time, turning his eyes on me.

  “Maybe you could trade it in and get lots of hundred dollar bills for your whores.” I feel as though I’m having an out of body experience, watching everything from the outside as it happens. I feel dizzy and my breathing is shallow.

  Over his shoulder, I see a redheaded woman take the few steps up and stand there on the deck, dressed quite professionally. I guess whores dress to impress these days.

  “There’s one now.” I nod, prompting him to turn around.

  He opens the door, steps out and speaks privately to her. She nods, looks at me and smiles reassuringly at him. He steps back inside alone and closes the door.

  “So this is it? We’re done?” I ask in a state of disbelief and shock.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re really just going to break up with me with no explanation? Don’t I deserve more than that?” I don’t know how I manage to utter the words. He just looks blankly at me.

  “Can I at least say goodbye to the kids?” I ask boldly although I’m pretty sure what his answer is going to be.

  He stiffens. “No. That’s not a good idea.” I remember his words from all those months ago when he pursued me, “It’s not right. Most women are in my life for such a brief period of time. Why would I subject my children to that? Besides, they’ve lost enough already.”

  My chest rises and falls. I’m going to lose it. “What will you tell them?” I look directly at him. My chin begins to quiver as I think about those children and how much I love them.

  “I’ll worry about what I tell my kids.” He shrugs nonchalantly. His kids? That’s below the belt and we both know it.

  “You’re a fucking bastard. You know that, right?” A single tear escapes and falls heavily onto my cheek. The stranger in front of me is ripping my heart right out of my chest.

  “So I’ve been told.”

  I can’t for the life of me figure out how I’m not a babbling mess right now. I think my mind and body have gone into shock.

  “I wish I’d never met you. Because that way I wouldn’t have to live with all of the ‘what ifs.’ I wouldn’t have to think about the ‘what could’ve been.’ Life is short, Adam. I hope you find what you’re looking for before it’s too late. Just know that I won’t be waiting for you.”

  I walk to the sliding door where the redhead waits outside for him. She smiles sympathetically at me. The fucking bitch actually smiles at me. In disbelief, I snort, “He’s all yours.”

  It’s not until I get home, that I give in and the clouds of darkness and despair consume me, dragging me under the surface for five days. I’m alive but barely breathing. I prayed th
at God would take me; I wouldn’t do it to myself.

  ***

  WHEN I FINALLY resurface on Friday afternoon, my eyes flutter open and I feel nothing. Shelby is sound asleep, lying next to me in my bed. I look down at my left hand and confirm to myself that it wasn’t a dream; the nightmare is a reality. Adam broke up with me. I take a long, hot shower and lower myself into the tub. As water rains down on me, I let out a torrent of sobs and painful utterances to God, asking why this has happened. Hot water fills the bathtub and I lay back. I think of seeing Lily as I inhale one slow breath before my nostrils are submerged and I breathe in, filling my lungs with hot water. Before long, I see nothing but darkness. My body’s natural instinct of survival struggles against itself. I have a choice to make. Give in to the misery that is my past life or fight for the life that I want to live in the future. My eyes widen resolutely as a child’s sweet voice tells me to live.

  “Mia?” I faintly hear Shelby’s voice in the distance before she crashes into the bathroom, slipping on the wet tile and falls to her knees, yanking me from the water just as I begin to lift my head above the surface.

  “Mia! Get up! Get up! Oh my God, what are you doing?” She screams as she reaches into the water and yanks my head high while she pulls the rest of my limp body out onto her lap. I begin to cough and sputter water onto Shelby’s shirt. I grab onto her for dear life like she’s the last straw between life and death. “Oh my God,” she cries, repeating the words over and over as she rocks my naked body.

  When I wake up later that night, Pete and Shelby surround me, each one sitting on my bed holding a hand. Pete’s hand brushes my loose hair back away from my face and turns to speak through gritted teeth, “You stupid bitch!” I blink and let my eyes fall to Shelby who wears a look of guilt. “Don’t you dare ever try that fucking shit again! I swear to God I will kick your ass,” he continues. “I come by to bring you food and find you like this?” His voice spits angry words. “No fucking way. No man is worth it. Trust me.” I find Shelby’s eyes again and blink slowly. It registers slowly that she has told Pete what I almost did.

  “Mia, please don’t be mad at me. I didn’t know what to do. You scared the shit out of me.” A single tear escapes and rolls down her cheek. I squeeze her hand, letting her know that I’m not upset with her. It’s me that I’m upset with. “Thank you for being here.”

  I spot the cardboard box on the dresser and smile meekly at Pete. He understands my fascination and love for pasta. “What’s in the box?” I ask.

  “Nothing.”

  I furrow my brow in confusion. “What?”

  “You get nothing until you promise me that no matter what happens you will never and I mean never do that again.”

  I close my eyes, shameful and hurt at the thought of what I wanted to do and more so that my best friends know. “I’m sorry.”

  “Promise me,” he demands as he opens the box and pulls out a metal container, withholding my sustenance.

  I nod, silently promising him.

  “Not good enough. I want to hear the words.”

  I roll my eyes at him. “I promise.”

  Before leaving for the night, Pete offers to take Brady home with him so I could just rest in bed for the rest of the weekend, but when Brady put up a fuss, growling in opposition, Pete decides to leave him. I need Brady and he needs me.

  Shelby and I stay up all night talking. My principal bought Shelby’s lie that I had chicken pox as the reason I missed another week of work. We talk about anything and everything except for Adam and the kids. I ask her one simple question, “Will I get through this?” My best friend holds me close and whispers, “Yes.” That night we decide not to talk about him anymore. I resolve to move on with my life just like he’s done.

  ***

  ON MONDAY MORNING, I walk into the school building expecting to see things that I normally do. Madison’s cubby has been cleaned out as was her desk. The bulletin board behind my desk still has the picture she drew of the two of us. Luke’s desk in Shelby’s room is now home to the fish tank that was in his bedroom. It was as though they’d just vanished, only leaving a small token for me as to tell the world they were here but are now gone. I know they’re not dead, but it feels like it. I am in mourning.

  The notice of student transfer left in my mailbox in the teachers’ room is just another reminder that Adam has indeed withdrawn his children from our school and left with no forwarding address. The children’s folders with any personal or contact information had been given to Adam although they’re usually sent to the new school. I guess Mrs. Chapman made an exception for him.

  I wish I could make them vanish from my memory and heart.

  ***

  WHEN SHELBY AND Mike invite me to their house for dinner the next week, I go even though I don’t want to go. I want to lay alone on my bed in silence. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I don’t want to see anyone. But I know Shelby and Mike are trying to help me so I offer to bring something, but she declines. I pick up a large bottle of wine for their house and bottle of vodka for home.

  Sitting in the living room with my best friend and her husband doesn’t usually bother me, but I feel like a third wheel. I don’t stay very long. I want to go home because everything I see, everywhere I go reminds me of him and the kids. At home, I stare at the bottle of vodka and wonder if we should become friends.

  My days have become mundane. Sleep, drink coffee, work. Sleep, drink coffee, work.

  ***

  BY THE FOLLOWING Monday morning, I’m more alert, a little more ready to face the day. Talking to my mother over the weekend helped. She explained that grief and despondency from a serious breakup can feel very similar to the grief and despondency from death. She recommended I see a grief counselor. I don’t think I need one. Adam wasn’t taken away from me; he chose to leave.

  I SIT IN my kitchen drinking my coffee, mindlessly flipping through last week’s newspaper. A name in the birth announcements catches my eye. A bouncing baby boy named Christopher was welcomed into the world on the same day another Christopher was placed into the ground. I remember that Wednesday; it was a beautiful, sunny, but cold day when Christopher John DeGennaro was buried. From my classroom window, I watched as the shiny, black hearse traveled slowly down Main Street while two black, stretch limousines followed behind and then a long line of cars after that. I thought about sending a card of sympathy to Gina and her father, but I didn’t. I wondered if his mother came in for her son’s funeral. I’m sure she’ll be at the reading of his will if he even had one.

  A knock on my kitchen door later that night startles me. Nora and Jeremiah come to say goodbye, telling me that now that the investigation into Chris DeGennaro is officially over, they’re being sent back to their home districts. Nora is going back to Washington D.C. while Jeremiah is going back to New Jersey.

  “Mia, I’m going to miss you, girl.” He wraps his huge arms around me. “You call me if you ever need anything, you hear me?” I smile and nod, “Thanks, J.”

  Nora asks him to wait outside for a minute before speaking openly to me. “Mia, I’m sorry about what happened with Adam. He was always so fiercely protective of you, even to a fault. Listen, I have no doubt. I know that he loved you and I can only hope that someday—” I hold up my hand, silencing her. “Please stop. I can’t hear this, Nora. I really can’t.” I bury my face in my hands and sob uncontrollably. Tough as nails, Special Agent Nora Jones pulls me into a hug, rubbing circles into my back. “I’m sorry. I wish I had some answers for you.”

  I promise myself that I will start running again every morning. I need to get myself back into a healthy routine and have some normalcy again. With every run, I increase the time and speed, pushing myself to the point of exhaustion. Each night after showering, I fall asleep immediately, but then I toss and turn restlessly, dreaming of children’s laughter before being startled awake by the sound of something loud cracking. It’s my heart. One step forward. Two steps back.

  **
*

  AT DISMISSAL, I stand at the table and greet the parents who come in to pick up their children. The air is slowly getting warmer as spring approaches. New grass peeks through the earth and trees show their tiny buds. With each passing day, I feel somewhat better. I feel as though I can do this; I can survive. With just a few months of school left, I’m looking forward to the days that I don’t have to see Gina who without fail gives me those unwavering death stares. I’ll never understand her. Her hatred seems stronger than ever now. I notice Sophie’s green eyes look a little lonelier than they used to.

  ***

  TWO WEEKS LATER, Mrs. Chapman calls me into her office. I feel like a little kid when she calls me in here. I lower myself in an upholstered seat which is lower than her leather swivel chair. Maybe it’s her way of maintaining authority. “Mia, I wanted to talk to you and see how you’re doing.”

  “I’m okay.” I smile weakly, choosing to offer those words instead of the ones that would reveal the hurt and heartbreak behind my manufactured smile.

  “Will you be ready to present for the reading conference next week? If you’re not up to it or you don’t want to go, I can ask someone else. I don’t think it would be a problem. I mean who wouldn’t mind an all-expenses paid trip to Florida for work?” She chuckles lightly as if she’s nervous.

  “I’ll be ready.” The truth is I could use a distraction. I can stay at work late every afternoon, do my research and put my PowerPoint presentation together. Maybe I should see if the night custodians need a hand sweeping or mopping the floors.

  ***

  SHANE SENDS ME a text at least three times a week asking if we can get together for pizza or a drink. I don’t want to see him or any other man for that matter. I bury myself in running and working on my presentation. I even avoid Pete as much as possible.