Heartless

by R. C. Martin

  “Of course.”

  His eyes flick behind me, where I know Heidi still stands, and then return to meet mine. “In private. I’ll catch up with the kids when we’re through. It’ll only take a minute,” he murmurs.

  “Okay. Let’s go to my office.” We walk in silence a few paces before I ask, “Where’s Tamara today?”

  “I handle field trips, you know that.”

  “Right. My mistake.”

  Sensing his demeanor is not particularly warm and friendly this afternoon, I don’t try and engage in any further small talk. When I close us into my office and he refuses to sit down, I remember that I was in a foul mood not too long ago, and it seems to be returning rather quickly.

  “What’s going on, Gabe?”

  “Where were you last weekend?”

  Surprised by the question, I furrow my brow and ask, “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t do that. Don’t lie to me now. Veronica went out of town, and you suddenly forgot to set your alarm clock? Honestly, Mikey, of all the excuses you could possibly use—you overslept Sunday morning?”

  Folding my arms across my chest, I feel my hackles rise as I ask, “What do you want me to say?”

  He doesn’t answer me right away, but stares at me—studies me. “Dios, estás colado por ella ya, cierto?1” When I don’t respond, he reaches up to rake his fingers through his hair and mutters, “So, you’re definitely having sex with her, then. I’m guessing you stayed at her place all weekend?”

  I drop my arms to my sides, no longer feeling defensive. More than anything, I wish only for my brother to understand.

  “Gabe—”

  “I can’t. I’m sorry. I’ve got a group of nine-year-olds I’ve got to help chaperone for the next couple of hours, and I don’t have it in me to hear you right now.” Shaking his head, he gives me a look that, up until this moment, he’s never given me before. At least, not as far as Blaine is concerned.

  He looks angry.

  “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Mike. It’s like you’re turning into a different man right before my eyes. I love you, you know I love the hell out of you; and I understand that perhaps your relationship with Veronica has run its course. I want you to be happy. I don’t wish for you to stay in a marriage that makes you more miserable than not—but what you’re doing? It’s gone beyond risky. You’re getting reckless. People are going to get hurt because of your actions. This isn’t fair to Veronica and we both know it.”

  “I realize that. But, Gabe—”

  “Arregla tu lío, hermano,2” he interrupts. “I mean it. You were taught better. You weren’t raised to be this selfish. None of us were. You can’t have them both.”

  “Gabe!” I call out as he turns his back on me.

  One hand on the door handle, he looks over his shoulder and says, “When you’re ready, whichever woman you choose, I’m here for you. I’ll never turn on you, Mike. I swear it—but you have to choose. Hell, give them both up for all I care. Just know that right now, you’re being a dick.”

  He leaves without another word, and for the first time since this affair began, my sense of shame overwhelms me.

  I LEAVE THE office at five o’clock on the dot. I need to get out of here. I need to see Blaine—to be reminded of the reason behind all of these lies; to be reminded that while the path we traverse is dishonorable, it is paved with a connection that’s real and unlike any either of us has ever experienced. I need to be reminded that in the end, this will all have been worth it, because she’s worth it.

  Always my angel.

  “Take me to Blaine,” I grumble as soon as I slip into the backseat of the town car.

  Clay catches my eye in the rearview mirror and offers me a nod before starting the engine.

  Blaine

  I’M IN MY closet, tucking my black, button-up shirt into my black pants, when I hear a loud knock at the front door. Frowning, I peek my head out of the closet, as if that’ll somehow give me some clue as to who is in the hallway. I have to leave for work in twenty minutes, so I’m certainly not expecting anyone.

  At the sound of another round of knocking, I decide to answer. I’m halfway to the door when I hear Michael’s muffled voice as he announces, “Angel, baby, it’s me.”

  My stomach tingles instantly, and my feet move in double time as I hurry the rest of the way to the barrier that stands between us. I’m quick to switch the locks before swinging open the door. I smile up at Michael, excited about his surprise visit, but then notice the expression he wears. He doesn’t exactly look happy to see me.

  “Hi,” I murmur cautiously.

  It isn’t until he takes a step toward me, hooking an arm around my waist, that I start to feel somewhat at ease again. When he leans down and kisses me hello, I relax even further into his hold.

  “Hi,” he breathes.

  “Hi, baby,” I semi repeat. Gripping the sides of his neck, I ask, “Is everything okay? You seem upset.”

  “Yeah.” As he speaks the word, he pulls away from me, walking further into the apartment.

  I watch him, not certain what his one-word reply means. Yeah, he’s all right, or yeah, he’s upset. After closing the door behind us, I follow him into the kitchen. He’s now standing with his back to me, his hands propped on the edge of the counter as he hangs his head.

  “Michael?” I run my hand down the length of his back, waiting for him to respond. When I feel him stiffen, I wonder what’s going through his mind.

  “What the hell is this?”

  My stomach bottoms out, and I knit my eyebrows together, confused and afraid of what he means by this.

  Is he talking about us?

  I’m still trying to figure out what he’s questioning, so I can decide what to say, when he turns around, holding the napkin with Lewis’s number scribbled across the front. I immediately deflate in relief. I forgot that I tossed it there after I got home this morning.

  “That? That’s nothing. Some guy at the bar gave me his number last night.”

  Michael’s brow dips in a deep scowl, and I suddenly don’t feel relieved anymore.

  “He flirted with you?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Did you give him your number?”

  My eyes grow wide in disbelief. I take a step closer to him, resting my hands on his waist as I insist, “No. Of course not.”

  “And you kept this because why? Because you intend on using it?”

  My disbelief gives way to frustration as I return his scowl with one of my own, declaring, “Why would you even think that?”

  “Why would you keep it?”

  I scoff as I take a step away from him, irritated that he’s questioning me so irrationally. “I don’t know—because when I emptied my pockets after my shift it was after two in the morning. I was tired and dumped all my shit on the counter, like I always do.”

  “It’s not two in the morning now.”

  “Oh, my god,” I mutter, snatching the napkin from his grasp. I rip the soft paper in two and then crumble it into a fist before tossing it in the trash can. “It was nothing, Michael. He flirted. I took his number so that he’d leave me alone. Seriously, what is wrong with you?”

  Folding his arms across his chest, he argues, “For him to have felt confident enough to give his number, you had to have given him some glimmer of hope. You flirted with him.”

  Resisting the urge to stomp my foot in anger, I counter, “I’m a bartender. All I have to do is smile and people think I’m flirting. I don’t understand why we’re even talking about this.”

  “I don’t like coming over here and seeing other men’s things laying around. You could have thrown away his number as soon as he left the bar.”

  “No, actually, I couldn’t have. If I did, I’d have Irene and Dodger all up my ass about not giving the cute guy a chance. It’s not like I can tell them that I already have a boyfriend, now can I?”

  “Why can’t you?” he asks with a shrug.

 
My jaw falls open at the same time that my eyes widen once more in shock. “You’re kidding, right? These are my friends we’re talking about. I can’t just tell them I have some secret boyfriend. They’ll never let me get away with that. They’ll want to meet you. I’d have to come up with excuses for you all the time. I can only keep up with so many lies, Michael.”

  He gives me a fraudulent smile, the expression so disingenuous it hurts my heart. He then drops his arms to his sides and leans toward me as he grumbles, “So I’m just supposed to accept this? You flirting with guys, night after night, accepting their numbers for the sake of your ignorant friends?”

  His question is like a blow to my chest, and I force out a harsh sigh, ignoring the burning sensation behind my eyes. He’s being completely unfair right now, and I don’t understand how he doesn’t see it.

  “Let me get this straight.” I force the words out, speaking around the knot in my throat. “You’re mad at me for flirting with one guy while you go home to your wife every night?”

  “This has nothing to do with her,” he grunts.

  I gasp softly, taking another step away from him. The mere fact that he’s so quick to take his wife out of the conversation brings me back to reality—where Michael is a married man and a high profile politician. Only, right now, I find no comfort in his presence. I see no promise in it. He’s holding me to a double standard, and it’s like he doesn’t even care.

  Now, wholly aware that we’re in the middle of our first fight, I can’t stop my tears from falling. He stares at me, unmoving, and neither of us speaks a word for what feels like hours, even though I’m sure it’s no longer than a minute. The muscles of his jaw jump across his cheek as he clenches his teeth together in frustration, and I don’t know what to say.

  How could he not know that I’m completely in love with him? How could he think that I would go behind his back to be with anyone else?

  “I would never cheat on you, Michael,” I whisper.

  He stares at me for a minute longer. Then, to my utter disbelief, he storms out.

  * * *

  1 God, you’re falling for her already, aren’t you?

  2 Get your shit together, brother.

  Michael

  I REGRET LEAVING as soon as I shut the door behind me. I pause before slowly turning back around. I place my hand on the doorknob, but I can’t make myself twist it open. Softly resting my head against the solid barrier, I let it all sink in.

  The argument I had this morning with Veronica.

  The demands given to me by my brother.

  The fight I just had with Blaine.

  I would never cheat on you, Michael

  My angel—she’s not responsible for the guilt and the shame that weighs heavily on me in this moment. She’s not responsible for the horrendous day this has turned out to be. Her promise of fidelity wasn’t meant as a blow to my conscience, which is wholly aware of my complete lack of self control and my apparent inability to remain faithful in my marriage. Even more than that, she’s not to blame for the overpowering sensation of jealousy that burns hotter inside of me than I’ve ever experienced before. Just the thought of another man thinking he could have what is mine—

  Only, she’s not mine. Not so long as I am bound by covenant to another.

  I feel like a bastard when I finally make my way down the stairs. I should go back. I should apologize for taking my frustrations out on her, but I can’t. I’m too consumed by them to get around them.

  When I close myself into the backseat of the town car, I open my mouth to tell Clay to take me home, but then I stop. Looking up at the building in front of us, I remember that I already am home. At least I was before I walked away. Now, the last place I want to be is at the mansion. I’ll never be able to explain my mood to Veronica. She no longer holds the place of my confidant. In fact, it’s been some time since that has been the case.

  For a moment, I get lost in my thoughts, wondering when my deepest secrets and insecurities went from something I felt comfortable sharing with her, to dark truths that I decided to harbor on my own. I’m not sure I could even pinpoint a moment in time, or if one closed door simply led to a plethora of open doors we stopped bothering to even darken.

  “Sir?”

  I snap my gaze toward the front seat and find Clay watching me through the rearview mirror.

  “You look like you could use a drink.”

  I cough out a humorless laugh, surprised both by his suggestion and his willingness to even say such a thing.

  “You’re right.”

  “Where to?”

  Peering out the window, I know that I can’t be seen at the Lounge. Not tonight. Blaine was dressed for work, which means she’ll likely be headed there any moment now. When my stomach growls, it’s as if it makes up my mind for me.

  Meeting Clay’s gaze once more, I inquire, “Care for some pizza?”

  He nods his response and then shifts the car in reverse, needing no more of an answer.

  WHILE WE WAIT for our order to arrive, we don’t say much to one another. Clay sips at his water as I nurse my beer, my thoughts occupied. I know I should be polite and make conversation, but I can’t get the look on Blaine’s face out of my head. I left her crying, like a jackass. The more I think about it, the more troubled I become.

  She was right to call me out for holding her to a double standard. Even still, the reality of our situation is so maddening. I’ve made it impossible for both of us. We’re doing the best we can, and yet, it’s not good enough. It’s not what either of us wants. I know that I’m not being fair. I’ve known that since the beginning. However, my actions moving forward could alter the course of my entire life in ways I can’t even begin to comprehend. It’s not as simple as getting a divorce. Not in my position. Not with the eyes of so many pointing in my direction. I need time to figure out how to do this as gracefully as possible, all the while knowing that the difficulty of the situation is my fault entirely.

  Furthermore, I must also consider Veronica. I’ve yet to figure out the best way to tell her, the best way to go about ending what she might not even realize is our broken marriage. I do not wish to be callous with her. I do not wish to inflict anymore pain than the truth itself will cause. I cannot simply cast her onto the street, leaving her with nothing—I still care for her, regardless of the fact that my feelings are not the same as they once were.

  “You’re a smart man,” says Clay, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “Excuse me?” I ask, shaking my head clear.

  “You’re a smart man, Governor. You’re tactful, you’re generous, and you’re far from cruel.”

  Frowning at him slightly, I inquire, “Why are you saying these things?”

  “You’ll figure it out. You’re not one to be bested by a challenge, sir. It’s how you got to where you are today.”

  I try to grab hold of his words—of his undue confidence in my ability to get through this like I get through my work day. I can’t. I don’t know what I’m doing now anymore than I did when it all began. I know what I feel. I know what I want. I know who I want—but I’m not entirely sure how I got here or where to go from here. I don’t know how to explain this to my wife, to my family. It just happened, and yet, I know that’s not true.

  “I have a sister. Older. She’s thirty-nine, now. She got married when she was twenty-five. Real nice guy. Successful. White collar career. In it for the long haul.”

  On the tip of my tongue is my question why? I don’t know why he’s telling me this, but I don’t ask. He’s never been particularly forthright with personal information, and I get the impression that I’ll understand his reasons if I’m patient enough to hear him out—so I do.

  “Five years in, my sister started acting different. At first, it was her wardrobe. Then it was her personality. She’d put on airs one day, and the next she’d barely be able to get out of bed. It didn’t take long for me to figure out that she was having an affair. Her husband either pretended
not to notice or pretended not to care. He loved her.

  “The other guy, he was wild. He was rich. He was powerful. But more than all of that, he was manipulative. He didn’t make her happy, he made her unstable and insecure. I’m not sure how she couldn’t tell the difference. Blinded by love or some shit. Six months in, he convinced her to leave her husband. Six months after that, she was at my doorstep with nothing.”

  He pauses, props his forearms against the table, and leans toward me before continuing in a hushed voice.

  “The state of your marriage is none of my business. That said, you are my business. I’m your shadow. I go where you go. I see what you see. I see more than you see.”

  Mimicking his stance, I lean toward him as I ask, “What is it that you see?”

  “I see that this is not that. Pardon me saying so, but it seems better. She makes you happy. She lightens your burdens. She relaxes you. To her, you are not the governor. You are not the former D.A. You’re not even a Harvard Law graduate—you’re merely a man; a man for which she cares a great deal.”

  “So what are you saying?” I furrow my brow in curiosity as I go on to question, “Do you mean to imply that I am not merely a man to Veronica?”

  “In my opinion? No. You’re not. I surmise it’s no one’s fault—but she appears to have misunderstood your ambition and your drive, mistaking it for your identity and your highest purpose. Or perhaps it is her ambition and her drive that has shielded her eyes to the man she sleeps next to night after night. I suppose I wouldn’t know. I’m not her shadow.”

  Our pizza arrives, interrupting our conversation, and we both lean back as the hot dish is placed in between us. Once the waitress has delivered our plates and napkins, she takes her leave, and I stare down and the deep-dish in front of me.

  I sensed that Clay had an opinion about what’s been going on between Blaine and me. Though, I never guessed that he’d admit to it. Furthermore, I never imagined that his observations would be so telling. The truth is, I do not know how either woman views me. I do not feel at liberty to make such assumptions. All I can do is base my opinions on my experiences. I must admit, Clay’s theory holds some weight.