By August, I was…jumpy, for lack of a better word. I was convinced he was cheating on me. I had no proof, none whatsoever. It was just a feeling, but it grew stronger every damn day, and I had no idea how to lose it. It just grew like a festering wound, its infection spreading, and I was merely looking for proof.
What was funniest was that his divorce had been finalized, so I should have been happy…but I wasn’t.
Still, I tried to be the good girlfriend. Worrying and stressing out about something that might have been happening but for which I had no proof would only send him running. I knew that. I knew I had to chill. I managed to settle on an idea for my thesis and got it approved by my advisor, so I tried to focus on it. Doing so was productive and, I hoped, would keep my mind from worrying about things over which I had no control.
One Saturday morning, I was working on it at the kitchen table. Kage was still sleeping, so I thought I could get some writing done on it. I knew how I was going to organize my thesis but hadn’t done enough research for the last three chapters; that would involve reading more books. For the time being, however, I knew I had enough to get started on the first part, the part in which I set up my premise for the rest of the oversized essay.
About an hour later, Kage came in the kitchen and we chatted a little, but he could tell I was distracted. He knew about the thesis, knew what was involved and how big it would be. He knew it was the capstone of my master’s degree and that, if I didn’t get it done, I wouldn’t earn the title. So he kissed me on the temple and slid a chair next to me and didn’t say another word. He was glancing at my computer, reading the document I was writing in Word, and I wondered what he thought. I didn’t know if he was familiar with the evolution of the novel in the United States, which was what my thesis focused on, and—even if he was—I wondered if it seemed interesting to him at all. I couldn’t worry about impressing him, though. I had my advisor and thesis committee to impress. They were all that mattered when it came to this project.
I’d been poring through a journal article I’d printed a week earlier, looking for a quote that would underscore what I’d been trying to say in the paragraph I’d typed minutes earlier. Having failed, I sighed and placed it next to the computer and then decided to get a cup of coffee. I looked over at Kage and smiled, kissing him on the tip of his nose. “Want more?” I asked.
“No. I’m good.”
As I sat down again, fresh cup in hand, Kage pointed to my computer screen. “What’s that?” His finger hovered underneath the word oeuvre. I’d chosen it for its succinctness—rather than say something about Mark Twain’s entire lifetime of written work, it was easier to say “Twain’s oeuvre.” I told Kage that. What I didn’t tell him was that I often used words in class or in my academic writing that I would never use in “real life,” words like oeuvre, hegemony, empirical, and the like. I knew my professors would expect that effort in my thesis as well, and I didn’t plan to disappoint them.
Kage said, “How do you even know a word like that?”
I shrugged and tried to play it down. “From all the reading I have to do for classes, I guess.” I could tell something about it was bothering him, so I tried to make a joke out of it. “You use those words when you want to blend in with stuffy professors.”
He smiled and stood, saying he needed to shower and get busy with his day, but I could tell it didn’t set well with him. And I didn’t know how to make him feel more at ease without making him more uncomfortable. He’d never acted like my academic pursuits had bothered him before, and I’d never made a big deal out of it. I was pursuing a passion, but that didn’t make me think or feel like I was better than anyone else. I certainly didn’t feel like I was smarter than he was—more educated, maybe, but definitely not smarter. Still…I could tell from his reaction that he was uncomfortable, but I didn’t know what to do about it.
I suppose, though, that that little episode started the crack in our relationship that ultimately drove him away. Well, that and what happened next.
One night not long after the thesis incident, Kage was sleeping in my bed next to me. My room was on the warm side but bearable. We’d made love an hour before talking for a while, and we had finally stopped chatting ten or fifteen minutes earlier, drifting toward sleepiness. We’d been discussing his new place. He hadn’t moved in yet, but he’d rented an apartment on the north side, not too far away, and he had to wait a week for the existing tenant to move out. We hadn’t discussed the possibility of moving in together, but I could feel it behind our words. I didn’t plan to invite myself, and part of me felt like the time wasn’t right.
I had started drifting off to sleep, but I wasn’t quite there. I heard his phone buzz, and he sat up to check it out. It wasn’t a steady noise, so I was pretty sure it was a text message. I feigned sleep, wondering what was happening and why a three AM text had his attention, but I knew I’d have a better chance of finding out if I kept my mouth shut.
He typed a text back to the sender and then set his phone on the bed beside him. He picked his jeans up off the floor and pulled them up his legs. He stood then so he could finish putting them on. I took a chance, lifting one eyelid, but it was dark. I could see the glow of his phone as the screen faded back to black, but he wouldn’t be able to tell I was looking. I could sense that he was in a bit of a hurry. I wondered why, but I wasn’t going to ask. I had a bad feeling about it. I knew if Kage was cheating on me, I’d have a better chance of catching him if he didn’t know I suspected him. I could follow him and see the woman whose arms he was running to and then either walk away or make a scene. The mature part of me—the woman pursuing a master’s degree in English—wanted no drama. That part of me planned to step aside and then lock up my heart for the remainder of my days so I could protect it. I could ensure this would never happen again. But the part of me that was still a damaged girl inside wanted to call him out and slap his face in front of God and everybody. I wanted to make him hurt as badly as he was hurting me.
When he stood, I could feel the spring of the mattress as it let go of his weight. Its emptiness was heavy and I closed my eyes, trying to hold back the tears that he wouldn’t know I was crying anyway.
As soon as the door to my bedroom was closed, I jumped out of bed and pulled a pair of sweats and a t-shirt out of my dresser drawers. No underwear because I knew I had no time. I felt around on the floor for the sandals I’d been wearing earlier and slid my feet into them. I pulled my purse off the dresser and began fishing for the keys inside while I made my way toward my bedroom door.
Kage had just closed the door to the outside when I opened the one to my bedroom. I only knew because I heard the click. When I reached the door to the outside, I turned the knob, realizing it was locked. That was what had taken him so long—figuring out how to unlock it and then lock it again before closing it and doing it in the dark. So, after I unlocked the door, I took my time opening it.
At least he was thoughtful enough to want to keep me and my roommates safe…like that was any consolation.
Once my eyes adjusted to the dim light at the edge of the parking lot, I saw him at his truck getting in. I eased out of the door, deciding that if he spotted me and said something, I’d admit it and ask to see the text that made him jump out of my bed.
Fortunately, my car was closer to my apartment than his truck that was parked most of the way across the lot. I jumped in just as he was backing out. I realized again that he might have seen me, and I didn’t care. I would keep my distance on the road, but I wasn’t going to be more secretive than that.
Well…my mind battled over that one, because I backed out of my parking space without turning the lights on. I knew white lights on the tail would have lit up, but he was already out of the parking lot. I still didn’t turn on the lights when I drove through the lot, and by the time I got to the exit, he was halfway down the road, heading toward the highway. I didn’t turn on my lights until he rounded the corner.
He was going
the speed limit, probably a good idea at this time of night, since traffic was lighter and misbehavior would be easy to spot. It wasn’t long after he turned onto the freeway, and I did the same. I maintained my distance, though. I needed to know where he was going and what he was doing.
In the pit of my gut, I just knew I was going to discover he was being unfaithful.
The tears were gushing like a waterfall, and I barely noticed them. I was intent on keeping his truck in my sights. It was hot out and my windows were down, and the wind whipping through the car tried to keep my cheeks dry, but even that couldn’t help.
Soon enough, he took another exit and we were close to downtown Pueblo, but we weren’t heading there. I realized we were heading into Mineral Palace Park, one of the bigger parks in town. He slowed his speed and so did I until I saw him park a few feet ahead. I kept driving and parked a little farther away, then turned in my seat. He was walking across one of the green patches of grass in the park, under trees, and I could barely see him. I got out of my car and walked across the street toward his truck, and then started following him across the way.
I saw someone sitting on a bench across the way. All I could see was long hair, not unlike mine. Kage’s pace seemed to increase when he spotted her, and he rushed to her side. My eyes started watering again, because that was all the proof I’d needed. I didn’t have to follow them anywhere else.
God, please let me be wrong. Please let that be a friend who needed comfort or a long-lost sibling he’d just discovered he had. I sobbed for a while as Kage and the girl continued their conversation in the dark.
When I was able to get control of my emotions, though, I came to a decision. I would not be my mother, just standing back, pretending I couldn’t see what was going on, playing the part of a pathetic doormat. I couldn’t be used and made a fool of, no matter how much I loved this man.
With my resolve firmly in place, I marched over. I was about to interrupt a touching moment, and maybe that would allow this woman to see Kage for what he was before he hurt her like he was hurting me. I had the words formed in my head, and I was going to say them before he could cut me off.
But, as I rounded the picnic table so I could be in front of them where they sat on the bench, the words tumbled from my lips unspoken. Yeah, Kage’s arm was around this person, but the person was a young man who just so happened to have long hair. They were having a quiet but deep conversation—I could tell that much by their faces, even though they were in shadow.
Words continued to escape me. Kage and the young man looked up and Kage said, “Jessica, what are you doing here?” I fumbled, still unable to grab onto some words, not even managing to do more than babble. I must have looked completely stupid, as though I had been sentenced to death and I was standing in front of a firing squad.
Finally, though, I swallowed the saliva that had pooled in my throat. “Uh…I’m sorry. I’m leaving now.”
Almost as if he hadn’t heard me, Kage said, “Jessica, this is my brother, Flynt.” I knew the young man wasn’t Kage’s brother, was instead his brother-in-law through Fay, but I wasn’t about to correct him, because I knew the bond between them was more like father-son.
I muttered something akin to “Nice to meet you,” and then I excused myself. I apologized again for interrupting and wandered back to my car. Kage said something about calling me the next day.
Bottom line…I felt like an asshole. I hadn’t trusted Kage, and it was my own fears, my own paranoia that had eaten me alive. I knew then that the lack of trust I had felt had eaten a hole in our relationship. I’d seen it on Kage’s face when he’d looked up from his conversation with Flynt. I only hoped he could find it in his heart to forgive me.
Chapter Twenty-eight
THE NEXT DAY around noon, Kage called. He asked to come by so he could see me, but I could sense in his voice what he was going to say. I already knew, and my stomach was eating itself with worry.
But I was a big girl. I had to face it, had to admit what I’d done.
The A/C in our apartment was working well that day, reflecting, I’d thought, the state of affairs. Kage and I had started out hot, burned bright, and now things had grown cold, and I wondered if we could reignite our feelings for each other. Because, when I really looked at it, things had been growing cold before, and this was just a sign. The problem was Kage seemed to be a loyal kind of guy, so he was just sticking around out of that sense of dedication, not for any feelings he had for me.
So I made another pot of coffee. I didn’t care that it was August. I didn’t care that it was afternoon. I wanted coffee and I was going to make it.
After my first cup, Kage arrived. When he walked in and took me in his arms, I felt a heavy sadness cloaked around him. There was a sense of regret, of sorrow, and it was palpable. I wanted to start crying at that moment, and yet I could also feel through it all an impression of love.
You want to know what I really felt like? Have you ever had a pet who’d either been injured beyond comprehension or grown old and diseased and you did what any humane, sensitive pet owner would do? You turned to euthanasia. You loved this creature and wanted to help it pass on to the next plane, wanted it to be a beautiful and sympathetic act, the last thing of love you did for a creature you had felt deeply about.
That was the feeling I was getting, and it turned my already sour stomach into a cauldron of acid.
Still…I wasn’t going to jump to conclusions. I’d already done that once (or more), and it had made me look like an idiot.
So we went to the kitchen and I asked him if he wanted some coffee. He didn’t. He didn’t want anything right now.
We sat at the table. God, the air was thick and heavy and I felt like I could barely breathe. Whatever he was going to do, I needed him to do it quickly, because I couldn’t take much more.
He took my hands in his, a gesture that felt so loving, so kind, and yet it felt like a dagger through my heart, because I already knew what he was going to say.
Well…not quite. Almost. “Jess,” he said as he looked in my eyes. Those green eyes of his—I could get lost in the beauty of them. Sometimes they were hard, reflecting the life he’d led, but other times, they were soft and warm, and this was one of those times. “I love you. I love you to the bottom of my soul. You are everything I want in a woman and more.” He took a deep breath. I could sense that now was the time for the hammer to fall. I bit my teeth together to hold back the tears that wanted to pour out of my eyes. He let out a sigh and looked down at our intertwined hands. “But I need some space and some time.” I nodded. I had felt that one coming. Yep…translated, that meant he wanted out and didn’t have the heart to tell me.
Because I loved this man, the primitive part of me wanted to scream and shout and holler and tie him down, forbidding him to leave. The biggest part of me, though, the part of me that loved him more than life itself knew it had to let him go. What’s that saying? You know, that bullshit one we tell ourselves to make us feel better about everyone’s free will…that if you love something, set it free? Well, that’s what I was going to do, but at a price. I could feel my heart being ripped from my chest, and I wondered how I was going to be able to live without it. Oh, I would, but I would be a hollow cave, and I would be able to look and act like a person, but I wouldn’t be able to feel again. Not without him. He’d shown me so much about hope, about life, about letting go of things that didn’t matter that I didn’t know how I could function again, especially because he was my hope.
But I loved him. It wasn’t like Robb, where—even though his rejection hurt—I put on a tough bitch face and let him know in no uncertain terms that I was better off without him. Sure, I could pull that same act with Kage, but it would have been bullshit, and he would have known it. He knew me. That was the part that hurt the most. I had opened myself up to him more than I ever had anyone else, and that had left me vulnerable. Even done with care, what he was doing was going to hurt, and there was no escaping that
.
And there went that little AWOL tear that had no permission from me to fall. It did, though, and then others went chasing after it. Oh, God, no. That was the last thing I’d wanted to happen. I’d known it was over before he’d even sat at my table, and I should have been prepared. But I wasn’t. It was too new, too raw, and I couldn’t handle it.
“Oh, Jess,” he said and moved his chair to my side of the table, pulling me close to him. He felt just like he always had—firm and strong—and his scent was as intoxicating as ever. But he had just told me he wasn’t mine, so I couldn’t get lost in him. He wasn’t mine to hold, not mine to hang onto. So, even though I wasn’t ready to bring my head up to face him, I allowed my head to rest on his chest, my hands on either side of my face, as I tried to gain my composure. I had to be adult about this. I had smothered him and he needed to run. It was my fault. I’d grown insecure and had wrapped him in rope, trying to keep him close. He was feeling the rope clench, though, and he was done. I’d seen it happen over and over and over again with my mother, but—unlike her—I was not going to start screaming and yelling at him, calling him a worthless bastard and throwing whatever items I could find at him. No, I was going to be tough and take it.
So, when I stopped crying, I wiped my face with my hands and said, “Uh, you do what you have to do.”
His eyes bored into mine. “I just need a little time, Jess. That’s all.”
Yeah…but, unfortunately, I didn’t believe him. I knew when he walked out the door that he would be gone forever, and I just prayed I’d be stronger for it.
* * *
Luckily for me, the fall semester started shortly thereafter, and I was busy. I had earned a fellowship to teach freshman composition classes, so I had lots on my plate. Even though I’d cut back my hours at the bar, I still had classes of my own and my thesis needed attention. Now I had the added pressure of preparing for the class I taught as well as grading and giving feedback on all their assigned work. I was busier than ever.
Be Careful What You Wish For Page 18
