Thomas is burning up. His thick fingers are going to leave a burn mark around my bicep. It wouldn’t be anything I don’t deserve. I’m bracing myself for it. I’m bracing myself for whatever punishment he wants to dole out. His gaze tells me that I disgust him.
But again, nothing comes.
The pressure of his grip eases as he whirls around, momentarily dazzling me. His dismissal is confusing. His restraint increases my urge for the punishment. I don’t want his control; I want his fury. All I can think about is that he’s hurting because of me and he needs this. He needs to hurt me back so he can get some closure. I’m both calm and frantic in my thinking.
I go to grab his shirt—to stop him? Tell him to hit me? Punch me in the face? Kick me to the ground for murdering his family? I don’t know—but he jars to a halt, and the impact of it makes my boots slip on the shiny floor of the stairwell. Suddenly, I’m airborne.
I’m flying.
Falling—literally.
My body is bounding down the stairs and as I hit the ground, all I think about is how fucking sorry I am, how fucking right it is that I’m going to die now because my love is so toxic.
And then the dark, sticky fingers pull me under, and I go to sleep.
________________
I come to, surrounded by the beep beep beep of machines and that clean but diseased smell of the hospital. Before I even open my bleary eyes, the bone-deep despair rises to the surface. The panic. The helplessness. It all stampedes on my chest and I gasp, trying to sit up.
“Hey. You’re awake.”
I focus on a sleep-ruffled Caleb. “Wh-What…” Oh God, the pain. I press my fingers to my throbbing head.
“Here.” Caleb produces a cup of water with a straw, urging me to take a sip. I obey, the water soothing the dryness in my throat.
He puts the cup away and faces me, shushing me when I try to speak. “Don’t. Your head’s gonna hurt for a while. Just give it a rest for now.”
“I…c-can’t.” I groan. Even that small whisper rattles inside my skull, tears prickling my eyes. I’ve got so many questions, so many, many things to ask him.
He strokes my hair. “Hey, it’s gonna be fine. Everything is going to be okay.”
Helpless, I lie there, crying with bitter irony. I can’t believe I said those very things not long ago. It’s gonna be okay. It’s all fine.
Nothing is fine. Not a single thing. I don’t even know how long I have been out.
“Th-Thomas?”
His face hardens. I have never seen him with that expression. “He’s gone.”
I shift on the bed, struggling to get up, but Caleb pushes me back down. Somehow, I manage to ask, “Why?”
“Are you fucking serious right now, Lay?” I sink into the hard pillow, horrified by his cursing. Caleb never uses bad words. Ever. It ratchets up my anxiety even more.
There’s some advantage to knowing a person for a lifetime, because Caleb can read the emotions on my face without me having to spell it out. “You fell down the stairs. It’s because of him, isn’t it? Do you remember that?”
Words scrape my throat as they struggle to come out. “N-No. He didn’t do anything. It was me. I was g-going after him.” And this is right on so many levels.
Caleb’s face hardens even more before going slack. “It’s not your fault.”
Tears are streaming down and my head is buzzing with the pain. “You don’t know. Hadley, she tried to kill herself because I went to their house.” Caleb shakes his head but I forge on, “She knew, Caleb. She could see I was in love with her h-husband. And Nicky… Is he...”
It’s getting harder and harder for me to talk. My head is going to explode and I can’t breathe with all the snot running down my nose. Caleb hands me a tissue. But I don’t care about the tissue. Please, please, please let him be okay. Please God.
“He’s fine. He made it.”
Caleb’s voice breaks through the mayhem in my head. He’s nodding, repeating what he just said. He made it. Nicky is fine.
“He is?” I whisper.
“Yeah. He, uh, he’s okay. He’s out of the critical care, and so is Hadley. Everything is okay now.”
I nod and nod again. I keep nodding, and my tears keep rolling down my cheeks.
Thank God. Thank God. Thank God.
I can’t form the words, the feeling of relief is huge inside me. So fucking huge. The pressure evaporates from my chest. Suddenly, I’ve become loose, flexible.
But it’s all wrong. isn’t it? I need to feel the pressure. None of this would’ve happened if not for me. I went to their house, their safe place and fucking destroyed everything.
“I almost killed him.” My words are thick and wet with my salty tears.
“Layla, listen to me.” He waits till I look at him. “What happened to Nicky is not your fault. If anything, it was Hadley’s. They’re talking about a psych eval for her.”
“What?”
“She tried to kill herself, Layla. That’s a serious thing. Not to mention, the kid almost died on her watch. She’ll probably get slapped with charges of neglect, or maybe more. None of that has to do with you. You couldn’t have brought it on by just being there.”
Caleb doesn’t know. He doesn’t know the extent of it.
My family is dying because you love me.
He didn’t see Thomas’ face. He didn’t see how I took everything from him when he’d just gotten it back.
“Do you know where Thomas is right now? Can you take me there? Please Caleb, I really need to see him.” I grab his hand, pleading.
“No. I wouldn’t tell you even if I knew. They flew Nicky out to a different hospital in the city, and they both left with him, Thomas and his wife. That’s all I know.”
Panicked, I try to scramble up. I need to see Thomas. I need to apologize. I need to do something. He might hate me, but I know he needs me.
Caleb overpowers me easily. He pushes me down on the bed and holds me there. “Jesus, Layla. Look at yourself. You need to take care of yourself. Shit.” His face crumples then, almost crying, but not yet. “When your mom called me, I-I was… God, I’ve never been so scared in my life. And to come here and find out the man responsible for your…accident is your professor? Is that the guy you love? Is that why you wanted to stay here instead of moving to the city?”
I never told Caleb who I’m in love with after dropping the bomb on him when he came to visit. I just ran out of there when I had the epiphany.
I struggle to get up once again. This time, however, Caleb doesn’t have to come stop me, because I collapse all on my own.
“He’s hurting, Caleb,” I cry, fisting the sheets covering my frail body. “I-I need to go to him.”
“What you need to do is rest. You’re gonna need your strength. Your mom’s here, and so is your dean, and they know, about…everything.” Again, I don’t have to ask. Caleb understands on his own. “Someone told them.”
“Who?”
He sighs, rakes his fingers through his hair. “Sarah Turner? Does that name make sense to you?”
I nod. “She wants his job.”
“They want to talk to you. There will be an investigation.” He gives me a meaningful look.
“There’s no need for one.” I avert my eyes. “I pursued him. I literally stalked him. Went to his house. I fell in love with him. It was all me.”
“He was right,” Caleb mutters.
“Who was right?” I ask, but I don’t really care about the answer. It’s all automatic. I feel the animation and emotions leaving my body. I actually feel lighter, thinner because of it, like a little tap would turn me to dust.
“He told me not to say anything, but I know you. You’re insanely stubborn so… Thomas was here last night.”
I whip my gaze back to him as my heart drums from beyond its grave. “Thomas?”
“You were out cold. He told me to tell you it isn’t your fault. I wasn’t supposed to tell you that the message came from him though.”
“He…He said that? That’s what he said?”
“Yes. Among other things.”
“What things?”
Sighing, he turns his face, and for the first time, I notice the left side of his jaw is swollen. “He punched me. Told me it was because of what I did.”
My eyes widen and a pounding starts in my head again. Caleb puts a calming hand on my shoulder. “Relax. You’re gonna make yourself worse.”
“And he just left after that?”
“Yes.” He stares at me with pity. “He wasn’t going to stick around anyway.”
Caleb doesn’t say it but I can read his expression. What were you thinking? Sleeping with a married professor?
“Of course, yeah. I know that.” I shake my head as tears fall down in a thick stream. “Why would he?” I almost killed his family, I want to add, but my voice shuts down, along with every other function of my body. I become useless and limp as Thomas’ words swirl around in my head.
My family is dying because you love me.
How could I have done this to him? How could my love be so toxic? Selfish and greedy. A fucking demon.
It isn’t your fault. I don’t believe Thomas. How can it not be my fault? I went there when he specifically asked me not to. Maybe, he was just being kind to me while I was unconscious, and that kills me even more.
I thought I did everything right this time. I thought my love wouldn’t eat me from the inside out. I thought it wouldn’t hurt anyone.
Turns out, my love is cannibalistic. Turns out, I don’t deserve to love anyone, much less have that love reciprocated.
The Bard
Four Months Later…
He looks at me with bright blue eyes. His dark hair falls to his forehead and drool hangs from his lips. Yeah, I might need to get that later. But for now, he’s happy to be a free agent. He’s on all fours, grinning at me, or rather the purple blanket I’m holding in my hands.
“Come on, buddy. You want this?” I wave the small blanket at him and his grin gets wider. “Then come get it. Come on.”
I egg him on and he shrieks, and crawls over as fast as his knees and dimpled palms will allow. I laugh at his enthusiasm and haul him in my arms when he reaches me. His shrieks and mirth get louder as I lift him up.
He’s lighter than air but I know he’s put on weight. His red cheeks have become fuller and healthier. He is happy and oblivious. He doesn’t know that mere months ago he almost died, that the button from his favorite purple elephant almost killed him. And I wouldn’t want it any other way. I don’t want anything tarnishing his pure innocence.
Nicky gurgles when I put him down on the floor and give him his blanket. Muttering to himself, he snatches it from my hands and begins to rub his face on the soft fur. Then he proceeds to blow raspberry kisses on it, and I chuckle. A strained, almost choking sound. Something about his playful actions, about the fact that he can do this… that he gets a chance to do this, lodges something sharp in my throat.
I look up when I hear Hadley come into the room. She’s freshly showered, her hair up in a neat bun, and her smile in place. Like Nicky, she has grown healthier too.
“Do you want to eat now?” I ask. “We can think about unpacking a few things later.”
The boxes are stacked up by the wall of the living room. A lifetime of possessions, a life contained inside the four cardboard walls somehow fails to do justice to what we’ve all been through.
This is our new home now. We’ve been living in Jake’s empty apartment in the city for the past few months. But it was time for a change, to move forward. So we got a new place in Brooklyn.
Hadley gives me a shy smile. “Okay.”
I leave Nicky to play on the floor, and pad over to the kitchen and start taking out containers from the bag. I sense Hadley coming closer. She stops at the island, still standing. I look up at her and find her watching me. I swallow and almost drop the container, my hands going weak. It’s still surreal that she is here, that my son is alive, that we are a family, again.
I focus on the food, dishing the perfect portions of the kung pao chicken out.
“Thomas?”
I halt my movements, the fork dangling in the air. There’s something about her voice that gives me goosebumps. My entire body goes into defense mode and the attack hasn’t even come yet. It’s the subtle steel, the soft authority in her words. It’s a tone she has rarely used with me. We never had any use for it. Even during the early days when we’d only just met, we never clashed. Now I realize that was because she gave in to all my demands.
“Yes.”
She rubs her arms—a gesture so like her that my chest hurts—but her eyes are determined. “I want a divorce.”
A beat passes. Two. Someone laughs on the street. A car whooshes by. A woman shrieks followed by more laughter. My eyes go to Nicky. He’s still playing with the blanket, crawling with it tucked close to his chest. A chest that’s moving up and down, as he breathes. My own chest begins to heave, one shuddering breath after another at the sight of my son alive and breathing. Focusing back on Hadley, I admit that I’ve been wondering when she’d say those words, when she’d be strong enough, mentally and physically, not to need me anymore.
Not need me to get her meds, feed her, hold her while the nightmares make her cry—the only time I have the courage to touch her—and silently pray my own tears away because she needs me to be strong.
“I see.” I rub my fingers over my mouth, oddly stunned that the moment is here.
She smiles then. Slowly, she leans over, puts her hand on my shoulders and tells me to sit. I do, like I’m a child, incapable of thinking for myself or doing even the simplest things.
Hadley takes a seat and we sit at the island across from each other. “This feels nice,” she says. “It feels like old times.”
I clear my throat. “Yeah.”
“Look at the size of this thing. It reminds me of the tiny island you had in college.”
“It does.”
“You don’t remember it, do you?”
“I—”
“You don’t have to agree with me on everything, Thomas. I won’t…I won’t blow up or anything.”
“I know.”
For the next few minutes, we keep mum. The silence is familiar, comforting even. This is how we’ve spent the last four months, with silences, occasional conversations. Yet, I know this moment is more. Something is coming; I can feel it in my bones, in my soul, even.
“I need to leave, Thomas,” Hadley says, after a little while. We both haven’t touched the food, but we’re both gripping the white plastic fork. For what? I don’t know.
But at her words, my grip tightens. My fists are shaking. It’s not as if this was unexpected. It’s not as if…we’ve been happy. With a sigh, I unfurl my palm and let the fork go.
“Right,” I say, robotically.
“I need to leave. At least, for a little while.”
“What about Nicky?” I repeat the question from long ago. But there is no heat in it. Maybe I’m going through the motions.
Her face crumples slightly and she squeezes my hand on the table. Hadley has always been good at hiding her emotions. She is soft and subtle, everything opposite of who I used to be. But now I can read her easily. I can see emotions playing on her beautiful face, like her porcelain skin has turned transparent and suddenly I can look inside.
She sighs, as if bracing herself for something big, and I’m on alert.
“He has you.” She smiles. “And Layla.”
The dulled embers inside my gut heat up at the mention of her name. The fire in my blood fans. My mind goes to the piece of paper tucked in my pocket—her poem from long ago. The poem she wrote for me, in another lifetime maybe. I carry it everywhere with me. I carry her everywhere with me, like a forgotten penny in my wallet. Most days I don’t even clap my eyes on it, but it’s there, safely buried.
It’s been four months, four long months since I saw her at the hospita
l, since I left her with one, pathetic line: It’s not your fault. I wasn’t even man enough to stay back and say it to her face. I ran. I couldn’t see her broken. I couldn’t see that I’d finally managed to push her too far.
“Hadley…”
My entire body is trembling. Fuck. I’m not prepared for it. I’m not prepared for talking about this. I’m not prepared to talk about Layla with Hadley.
“I-I… If I could go back, I’d—”
“I’d want you to have that all over again.” Shocked, my gaze flies up to her. “You fell in love. I’d never begrudge you that.”
Love. I fell in love with Layla Robinson.
In the frenzy of the last few months, I never got the chance to tell Hadley myself. She heard the rumors though. She heard why I quit my job, why we moved back to New York, other than for her and Nicky’s treatment.
I had an affair with my student.
It’s true that I ended up falling in love with her, but I never confessed this to Hadley. It feels foreign to hear it from my wife’s mouth. It feels…like relief. I haven’t felt it in a long, long time.
“I should’ve told you,” I rasp. I want to look away but I won’t. I’ll at least give her the courtesy of looking directly into her eyes when I confess.
“Yes.” She nods. “But I wasn’t there.”
“I should’ve waited for you to come back. We should’ve…should’ve talked about things.”
“Yes, but honestly, I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to face what I was going through. I didn’t want to face anything. I-I thought that if I left for a few days, things would be better, but they weren’t. And I missed you so much when I was gone, but when I came back, I felt even worse.”
It’s not easy listening to it. It’s not easy listening to how by forcing her to be with me, I almost destroyed her, how she lied to me. She never went to Beth’s. She simply ran away, lived at a motel someplace upstate.
“Susan… She told me. She kept saying something was wrong but I never…I never thought… My mind never even went there. Or maybe I didn’t want to see it. I felt…”
The Unrequited Page 27
