by Layne Harper
“Did you know about the affair?”
“How long has it been going on?”
“Are you separated?”
“When is the baby due?”
“Where’s Colin living?”
“Is he using again?”
I keep my head down, and do my best to ignore them. There’s a little part of me that still believes that if I never give them a comment, they’ll eventually go away. It seems either they’re slow learners, or tenacious. Nonetheless, it’s gotten very old.
Then I hear a male voice above all the others. “Once a playboy always a playboy.”
I feel my blood pressure rise to stroke level. I’ve played nice with the media. I’ve kept my head down, and not given a comment for the past nine months. I’ve let them say terrible, hurtful things about me and my husband. I’ve never responded. I’ve practiced the turn the other cheek method—well, except for when Colin was sick—and look where it’s gotten me. I’m being hounded by the media, on Christmas Eve, at my place of employment.
That’s when I pick my head up and stop walking. Brad tries to drag me, but I plant my feet. The security team stops, and they get looks on their faces, knowing that I’m about to do something that will probably result in Colin being furious.
It’s time to prove to Colin that I heard his speech this morning about questioning his motivation regarding our marriage. I take a deep breath, and tuck my hair behind my ears before I speak. “It’s Christmas Eve, and I’m on the way into the hospital that I work at to take care of my sick patients, who would rather be spending the holidays at home than stuck here. Do you have no dignity?
“You were set up by Miss Sanchez. I assure you that the only person Colin is committed to is me. Go home to your families. Take a day off from harassing us. I know that your sensational stories make you money, and I’m not going to deny you the right to earn a living. However, let me remind you that we are people, also. I can’t help that I’m in love with someone who is a public figure, any more than Colin can help that he has a talent that makes him that celebrity. None of that means that we deserve to be hounded by you, have lies printed about our relationship, or have you show up at my place of employment, hoping for a story. There is no story.
“So, you want a statement from me? Here’s my statement.” I pause, and make sure that I look directly at the largest camera. “Colin is healing well, and following doctor’s orders. In my professional opinion, he will be the starting quarterback for Dallas next season. We both deny that Colin is having an affair. Our relationship is as strong as ever. I wish you all a happy holiday season.”
I turn and continue walking toward the hospital entrance. The paparazzi is chasing after me, asking me more questions.
“Can you confirm that you and Colin are married?”
“Are you going to sue Jenna?”
“Are Jenna and Colin still seeing each other?”
They’re smart enough to know that they can’t step foot within a certain distance of the hospital, so I’m relatively safe inside. I pretend as if nothing is out of the ordinary when I walk through the automatic doors, although it’s hard to miss the staff and patients who are staring at me. Yup! This is my life. The one that I chose.
Brad and I begin making our rounds.
* * * *
I walk into the craziness of my home. Everyone is back from running their errands, and barely notice when I slip in the door. I greet them, but excuse myself to shower. I don’t want anyone getting sick over Christmas.
I shut my bedroom door behind me, and am startled when Colin says hello.
“Why aren’t you with the mayhem?” I begin to undress in front of him, because it feels so natural to not hide my body from my husband.
I hear the sharp intake of breath from him when I remove my top. He ignores my question. “I got my walking boot today. A week early.”
“No more crutches?”
“Gone. Finito.” He stands up and walks toward me, as if to prove his point.
When he gets close enough to touch me, he tentatively reaches out a hand and gently tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear. He’s gauging my reaction, to see if I’m going to flinch away from him. I don’t. We stand there staring at each other, my lavender into his green.
“I saw your impromptu press conference,” he says, in a level voice, not giving me any idea what he thought about it.
“I couldn’t keep my head ducked any longer. I know that I just added fuel to fire, and they’re going to pursue me even more, but I couldn’t keep my mouth shut for another minute.” I pause for a second, and add, “Especially when they questioned your commitment to me.”
His green eyes twinkle in a way that reassures me that he gets it. “I wish that you hadn’t,” he says.
“I know.” I sigh, not breaking our eye contact. “But I couldn’t let the world not hear me defend you. You were stupid, and went behind my back to see Jenna. You presented them with a story about us on a silver platter, but you did not break our marriage vows.”
Colin places his large hands on my shoulders and squeezes them. “Do you think that anyone believes that I didn’t cheat on you?” His gentle, upturned lips tell me that it’s more of a rhetorical question.
“Probably not. I’m sure I look like I’m just the little lady standing by her man, but I did it for you. I want you to know that I never doubted your commitment to me. I’m upset at your poor choices, but that’s something that we can keep between us.” I drop my eyes and look at the floor. “I need a shower. I just got home from the hospital.”
“Can I join you?” Colin asks, timidly.
“Colin, that’s not a good idea. They want you to wear your walking boot as much as possible. You shouldn’t be putting weight on your foot without your …”
He captures my mouth, as he says, “Shut up Caroline.”
I’m still angry and hurt, but none of that seems to matter the longer he kisses me. His hands tangle in my hair, pushing me deeper into this mouth. Our kiss is filled with urgency, passion, tenderness, and love. It’s a Band-Aid that helps repair some of the hurt we’ve caused each other. It reminds me how much he loves me, and how much I deeply love and need him.
He rests his forehead against mine, and he’s panting as if he’s run with me. “I’m so fucking sorry. Please let us be okay again. I need you.”
Tears slip out of my eyes. “I need you too.”
He pulls me to his chest, and holds me tightly against him. “Please say it again.” I hear his heart beating its beautiful rhythm—our rhythm—set to music many years ago.
“I need you, Colin,” I repeat. Then, I finally get it. Even though I can kill my own spiders, get down my own blankets, open my own jars of grape jelly, I need to let Colin do things for me. I need to do a better job of showing him how important he is to me.
I hug him back. “I need you so much, Colin, that it scares me.”
My shower becomes not a necessity anymore when he pushes me gently back on the bed. He’s on top of me, crawling up my body, and I don’t think that he can reach my lips quickly enough. Our family on the other side of the door is forgotten. It’s the two of us, reminding each other how much we need each other. How much we hate being angry and hurt. It’s me letting Colin take charge, and have his way with me.
I don’t direct him, or urge him to go faster or slower. I don’t massage my clit when he’s not letting me reach my orgasm quickly enough. I hand him total control over my body—and emotions. I can tell by his orgasm that this is what he needs. Truth be told, I don’t have any complaints myself.
* * * *
Colin is asleep in our bedroom. Since our fight began I haven’t slept much, but I don’t think he’s slept at all. After he found his final release, he literally collapsed on the bed and fell into a deep sleep. I wrapped him in our duvet, and let my gently snoring husband take a nap.
I showered, redid my makeup, and put on my obnoxious Christmas sweater that I save every year for cookie-b
aking time.
If our family has noticed our extended absence, they have the good manners not to comment on it. I join everyone in the kitchen. A bottle of pinot noir is open, and everyone has a glass, except Aiden. He’s sipping on water, which is probably a good idea, knowing how much bourbon he drank last night.
I walk over to him and stand by his side. He drapes an arm around my shoulder, and pulls me to him in a friendly hug. “Is the douche okay?”
I smile up at him. “He’s sleeping.”
“He loves you so much Caroline,” he whispers to me.
“I know. We’re going to be just fine,” I reassure Aiden.
The kitchen is abuzz with noise, and thankfully everyone is ignoring us. “How are things with you and Rachael?” A girl’s got to ask, right?
“Complicated.” He lets out a sigh.
“Hang in there. Her life is so busy. I worry about her, because even when she sleeps she’s still on duty.”
“Yeah. And the last time I checked, I can’t make my skin any lighter, or change that my ancestors were once slaves.”
The shock of his statement is obviously displayed on my face. “Close your mouth, Caroline. In case you haven’t noticed I’m black, and she’s white.” He whispers it, like he’s telling me a huge secret. “Her constituents are the dirty south.”
“That doesn’t matter to Rachael…or…or her family.”
“Apparently it does to voters.” He shakes his head. “Forget I said anything. She’s going to be here in a couple of hours, and I don’t want to ruin the holidays.”
I hug him, and give him a kiss on the cheek. I adore Aiden. I always have, and I don’t care what he says, Rachael and I are going to have a chat. I know that this isn’t her sentiment, and I’m not sure why she would be letting polling numbers dictate her personal life.
Fortunately, Aiden and I are soon distracted by Susan, who wants some help preparing the ingredients for the seafood gumbo.
I chop the okra like the good daughter-in-law that I am, and place it in the bowl as Susan instructed. Then, while the rest of our family is distracted, I slip into Colin’s home office to call my dad. Since Colin’s accident, we’ve talked at least twice a week, but it’s usually about medical topics. I know Colin, or Brad, for that matter, can’t understand how I miss my father. There’s something about the holidays that makes me feel nostalgic for the Christmases we had before my parents divorced. This will be the first Christmas where I haven’t spent at least a little time with him.
I find his number in my phone, hit dial and count the rings, hoping that he’ll see it’s me, and answer.
“Hi, Caroline. Merry Christmas,” he answers on the fourth ring, sounding just like he always does—professional, courteous and detached.
“Merry Christmas to you,” I reply, taking a seat in Colin’s desk chair and tucking my legs underneath me. “I wanted to call today because I know you’ll be busy with Carmen, Sarah, and Tiffany tomorrow. What are your plans?”
I lean back in Colin’s chair and inhale the scent of my husband, while my dad fills me in on their plans with Carmen’s family tomorrow. A wave of melancholy washes over me. Logically, I know Dad and my half-sisters have a part of their lives I am not welcomed in. As he speaks, I wonder if I’ll ever reach the point where it won’t hurt to listen to him talk about that part of his life?
When he’s finished he asks how Colin and I are doing. I’m sure that he’s seen the media reports. I tell him that we’re just fine, knowing in my heart that we will be.
Dad turns the conversation back to his medical practice, and tells me about the new doctor that’s starting after the first of the year. He’s going to be taking over the part of the practice that was mine. The possessive, career-driven, focused side of me hates hearing anyone will be taking my place. However, I’m pleased the new doctor will take some of the workload off of Dad. Without being told, I know he’s been driving himself into the ground. That’s just how my dad is.
We end our phone call on a happy note. I promise to come down for a visit as soon as Colin’s able to drive again. For the first time since our fight, he tells me he loves when I’m saying goodbye, and I actually believe he means it. I hit end on my phone and realize that I’m smiling. This is going to be a good Christmas.
* * * *
Strong, warm arms wrap themselves around me as I stir a pot of chocolate sauce on the stove. “You let me sleep too long,” he chastises as he plants a sweet, little kiss on my neck. His voice is gruff from his nap, and he smells like sex. I inhale deeply and let out a dreamy sigh.
I turn around, and wipe my hands on my apron. “You needed it.” I kiss him on his cheek, and take the opportunity to look at his face. Some color has returned to his skin, and the dark shadows under his eyes aren’t quite as purple. The lines around his eyes and forehead are more relaxed. Yes. His couple of hours of napping did him well.
“Thank you for that, earlier. I know you still need some time, but I needed that,” he breathes the words against my shoulder.
I wink at him, and turn back around to keep stirring my chocolate.
I listen to him greet everyone, and make small talk. I marvel at how his charisma changes the energy of a room. Before he came in the kitchen, we were chatting about nothing of consequence. Now, with Colin here, the energy is more boisterous and lively. Our family is hanging onto every word he says. He does this effortlessly. He doesn’t bully the conversation. It’s just how he is.
Even Rachael, who has the same kind of personality as Colin, falls into his shadow. It’s amazing to witness.
“Hey Caro,” Rachael calls with a wink. This is only my nickname when we’re making Christmas cookies. Any other time of the year, and she knows she would be slaughtered. “Pass me the vanilla.”
I pick up the bottle, and as I turn to hand it to her, it slips out of my hand, shattering on the floor. Both mothers go into clean-up, keep-glass-out-of-the-feet mode. My mom shoos everyone out of the kitchen, while Susan grabs gobs of paper towels. Apparently, Colin’s disregard for the environment started with his mother. I freeze in position while they pick up pieces of glass from around my feet. Once they’re satisfied that I’m not going to cut myself, they let me help them sop up the vanilla that is making the kitchen smell divine.
I grab my car keys, and call to everyone that I’m going to run up to the store to grab more vanilla. Colin removes the keys from my hand. “You stay here, and man the stove. Aiden and I’ll run up to the store.”
“You’re not running anywhere,” I reply sarcastically.
He leans down, and kisses the tip of my nose. “Don’t be a smartass.” He hangs up my car keys and grabs Big Bertha’s. Now I know why he wants to go. He hasn’t been in his baby since The Break Seen Around The World.
He flips Aiden the keys. “You get to drive her.”
Aiden shoots me a look of horror, and I just shrug. “Sorry, man. Better you driving her than me.”
Colin breaks into a shit-eating grin. I sometimes wonder if he keeps Bertha around just because he knows how much all the rest of us hate the truck.
I turn back to my chocolate sauce and keep stirring.
Some time later, I realize that it’s taking the boys an awful long time at the store. I search out my phone, and find it in the bedroom. I have two missed calls from Colin. Instead of listening to his voice mails, I call him.
“Hey baby,” he answers. “Did you get my messages?”
“Nope. I just saw that you called, and I’m calling you back.”
“Oh.” He pauses for a second. “Okay. Well, don’t listen to your voice mails now. Delete them. I have a surprise for you. Aiden and I’ll be home shortly.”
I hang up with him, and I’m half tempted to listen to the voice mails anyway. I stare at my phone, knowing what I should do, and warring against what I want to do. After a couple of seconds of debate, I do what he asks, and delete them without listening. It’s my first step in trusting him again.
&nb
sp; Then, I hear a commotion coming from the kitchen. They’re girl squeals, the kind that are only reserved for absurdly cute baby animals, engagement rings, and newborns. I head toward the noise and see my big, strapping, handsome husband cradling a little brown fur ball to his chest. The puppy is so small that it literally fits in the palm of his hand.
Our eyes lock across the kitchen. “Umm…” He pauses. “Can y’all give Charlie and me a second?”
The charter members of the puppy’s fan club file out of the kitchen, flashing me pleading eyes as they go.
When we’re alone, I walk over to Colin, placing my hand on my hip, and say, “Give me the spiel.”
He immediately starts talking as he clutches the puppy tighter to his chest. The puppy responds by giving him a lick on his chin. “Charlie, he was so tiny, and I saw him eating food that had fallen out of the dumpster.” And the puppy just licked his face, but it will be my fault if he gets sick again. “It’s so cold outside. I couldn’t just leave him. Aiden and I ran him by the 24-hour vet hospital. He’s healthy, and I already paid for him to get his first round of shots.”
From the other room, Aiden yells, “Caroline, I told him you’d say no.” Then he yelps. Rachael must have hit him.
I continue to stand there, and stare at the ridiculously cute sight of my six foot, five inch husband holding this little squirmy ball of fur. “I’ve already named him.”
I tilt my head and drop my chin cutting my eyes at Colin.
He ignores me and plows on. “Since I’m a lefty, I’ve named him Pancho.” Then, Colin picks up the puppy, and places him next to his face. “See, baby? We’re Pancho and Lefty.”
Even if I had an inkling to say that he couldn’t keep the dog, there’s no way that I can deny him now. They’re freaking adorable.
I nod my head. “Y’all are cute. But Colin, I’ve never had a dog before. I know nothing about taking care for one. We’re so busy. We’re never home. How are we going to train him, and take care of him? We’re going to have to teach him to potty outside. I mean, where is he going to sleep? I don’t even know what puppies eat? We don’t have a vet. Who’s going to watch him when we’re out of town?” I could keep rambling on all the reasons that us getting a dog is a horrible idea.
