Wardrobe Malfunction

by Samantha Towle

“Nick is gay! And he is my roommate! He’s my best friend and my family! And he’s Canadian! He came here on a student visa, and when he graduated, he couldn’t get residency because he didn’t have a permanent job. He was looking at deportation, so I came up with the idea that we get married, so he could stay in the country because he was all I had in the world, and I didn’t want to lose him!” I break off, panting.

  Vaughn is just standing there, staring at me, saying nothing.

  “I wanted to tell you,” I say in a softer voice. “I was going to tell you when we got back to Vegas because I realized that I wanted…you. All of you. And I knew I couldn’t have you without you knowing the truth. But the press beat me to it, and I’m so sorry for that, Vaughn. You don’t know how sorry I am.” I press my hand to my chest, making my way off the porch and onto the drive, so there are only a few feet left between us.

  “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I couldn’t tell you in the beginning because we were just sleeping together, and what I did, marrying Nick…I broke the law. If the authorities found out, then I would face jail, and Nick would be deported.”

  “So, why are you telling me now? I could go to the police. Tell them. Have Nick deported.”

  I swallow down. “Because you have a right to know the truth. The actual truth. You deserve to know. And I trust you. But, if you need to tell the authorities, then I’ll face that, whatever happens. But Nick…he has no one back in Canada. His family threw him out when he came out to them. His whole life, his career, is in New York.” My throat is starting to burn, my eyes stinging with tears. “Punish me for hurting you. But not him. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

  He sighs and scrubs his hands over his face. “Okay,” he says, dropping his hands.

  “Okay?”

  “Okay. You’ve told me. I won’t say anything to anyone.”

  “Thank you,” I breathe.

  “But you and I are done.”

  And my heart shatters into a million pieces.

  “I admire what you did for your friend. Even though it’s illegal, it was a selfless thing to do. But you lied to me, Charly. You lied for months. You looked me in the eye day after day and didn’t tell me. I don’t trust you anymore.” He rubs his hands over his head. “And you humiliated me, and I have been humiliated enough this year to last me a fucking lifetime.”

  He doesn’t want me anymore.

  “You…you said you loved me…that you’re in love with me.” The words physically hurt me.

  He looks away. “I don’t trust you anymore. And, without that, we have nothing.”

  And there it is.

  I’m never going to see him again. Except that I will see his face everywhere, in magazines and on-screen.

  It’s going to be so hard to be reminded that I had him and I lost him, and I only have myself to blame.

  I’ll never get to be close to him again. Never kiss him or hold him or make love to him.

  A ball of pain forms in my chest and ruptures. I’ve never felt anything like it.

  I press a hand to my chest, expecting to see blood there.

  But there’s nothing.

  Then, something wet and hot runs down my cheek, hitting my lip.

  I touch a finger to it. Pulling it away, I see a tear sitting on the tip of it.

  I’m crying.

  I swallow past the aching, burning pain I feel. “Vaughn.”

  He looks up at me.

  “I love you. I’m not saying that to try and win you back. I know that I had my chance, and I ruined it. But I couldn’t leave without telling you.” I brush the falling tears away with the back of my hand.

  Forcing myself to move, I go back up the porch and get my case.

  It’s time to go.

  I walk toward him, not taking my eyes from him. He’s not looking at me. His eyes are on the ground.

  I will him to look at me, but he doesn’t.

  Reaching him, I stop a foot away. But the gap between us feels an awful lot bigger.

  Silence stretches.

  He finally looks at me.

  I force myself to smile. I know it’s a sad smile, but it’s the best I can manage while my heart is breaking. “What we had…it was and always will be the most important time in my life. I’ll remember it and you forever.”

  I go to touch him one last time. I step closer, just to touch my hand to his arm, but he moves away.

  He doesn’t even want me to touch him.

  The rejection stings my cheeks and brings on a fresh set of tears. I force myself to smile through them even though my lips are trembling and my heart is dying.

  “Have the best life, Vaughn West. Be happy. You, more than anyone, deserve it.”

  One last look at him, and then I walk away, pulling my case behind me. I don’t look back.

  Tears are streaming down my face. I bite my lip to stop the sob that wants to burst out of me.

  All I want is to lie down on the grass and curl up into a ball, but I force myself to keep going while my hand rubs away tears that won’t stop falling.

  I guess, when you open the dam, a fuck-load of water comes rushing out.

  I keep walking, not sure of what I’m doing or where to go. I can see Vaughn’s parents’ house coming up, and I don’t want them to see me.

  They must hate me. I kind of hate myself right now.

  So, I keep my focus ahead and walk quickly.

  I need to get a cab and get out of here. Only I don’t know the numbers of any cab companies. I’ve just got to pray Uber works around here.

  I just need to get off the farm and onto the main road, and then I can take a breath and figure out how to get to the airport.

  I can just stay there until there’s a flight out of here. God, I don’t even know if there’s a direct flight to New York.

  “Charly.”

  The sound of Vaughn’s grandma’s voice brings me to a stop. I covertly dry my face on my hand and take a breath before turning to her.

  “Hi,” I say.

  She smiles. “You’re leaving?”

  I glance back at Vaughn’s house. “Yes. Look, I’m really sorry about Vaughn…what happened—”

  “Can I tell you a secret?”

  Her words surprise me.

  But I answer her in the only way I can right now, “That’s the one thing I am good at—keeping secrets.” I make a self-derogatory laugh at myself.

  “I was married once,” she tells me. “Before I met Vaughn’s granddaddy, I was married to a man I didn’t love. Something tells me that you did the same. Probably for very different reasons, but we both married men we weren’t in love with. Mine was for money to help save my family from bankruptcy. Your reason…I’m not sure of, but you definitely didn’t marry for love. That, I know for sure.”

  “What makes you so sure?” My voice is small, timid.

  “Call it intuition. Or because of the way you look at my grandson. You only look at one man in your lifetime the way you look at Vaughn. I know because it’s the exact same way I used to look at Vaughn’s granddaddy. Like the day began and ended with him. Well, that, and the fact that you came straight here to see Vaughn instead of going home to your husband.”

  She’s got me there.

  I stare at my feet, unsure of what to say.

  “You want a cocktail?” she asks. “I just made up a jug of piña colada.”

  I lift my eyes to her. “It’s pretty early in the day to be drinking.”

  “Nonsense.” She waves my words away with her hands. “It’s never too early for a cocktail.” She turns and starts to walk toward the house.

  I stay rooted to the spot, unsure if I should go inside. If I can go inside.

  Surely, they all must hate me. I must be the last person on earth that his family wants to see.

  I honestly don’t know why his grandma is being so kind to me.

  She stops and turns back to me. “Nobody’s home, if that’s what you’re worried about. They’re out for the day a
t the farmers market. So, do you want that piña colada or not?”

  I glance at Vaughn’s house, and my eyes start to sting with tears again. I realize that I’m not ready to leave just yet.

  “Okay,” I say, looking back at her. “A piña colada would be nice.”

  It’s not like I have anywhere else to be right now. And a cocktail might be just what I need to take away this aching Vaughn-shaped hole inside my chest.

  Vaughn

  I’ve been lying here, on my sofa, for two hours now, staring at my ceiling.

  After Charly left, I came in my house and lay down on the sofa, and I haven’t moved since. Well, if I’m being precise, it’s been more than two hours since she left. It’s been two hours and seventeen minutes.

  Only she didn’t leave. I sent her away.

  Shawn Mendes’s “Stitches” ends, and Snow Patrol’s “You Could Be Happy” starts to play on my phone.

  I might have broken my own rule and brought my cell into my house.

  I didn’t want to sit in silence, so I only brought it in to listen to music. While I stare at the ceiling. Not thinking about Charly.

  I didn’t bring it inside in case she called.

  Not that she would because I told her that we were over. She has no reason to call, except that she has no car.

  And she left here on foot.

  I’m guessing she got here by cab.

  And I let her go and walk out of here, alone.

  I should have driven her where she needed to go. I might be angry with her and not want to be with her anymore, but I shouldn’t have just let her leave here to walk on foot.

  I wasn’t thinking straight at that moment.

  I don’t know if I should call her just to make sure she’s okay. But I don’t want her to get the wrong idea. I don’t want her to think I’ve changed my mind about us.

  Because I haven’t.

  I don’t want to be with her. I don’t trust her. She lied and humiliated me.

  She’ll be fine. Of course she will. I’m sure she called a cab.

  But…what if she couldn’t get a cab, and she got stuck? I know Pins; she’s stubborn, so she won’t ask for help.

  And she definitely wouldn’t ask me for help because, you know, I told her that we were done.

  Because we are.

  I am. Done, that is.

  But I should call her to make sure she’s okay. Not because I want to hear her voice one last time, but because I’m a good guy.

  Sitting up, I turn the music off and go to her number in my Contacts. I’m staring at her number when my gran’s voice calls into the living room as she comes in through the front door.

  “Vaughn?”

  “Living room,” I tell her.

  I put my phone down beside me.

  She sits in the chair across from me and puts a flask on the table. “I brought you some piña colada. I had some leftover.”

  I swear, she’s been turning into an alcoholic since she got that cocktail-maker.

  “Thanks.” I pick it up, open the lid on the flask, and take a sip. Wow, it’s not lacking alcohol. Piña coladas are not really my thing, but it’s got liquor in it, and I could do with some right now.

  “Good?” she asks.

  I put the flask back down on the table. “Strong.”

  “So, good then.” She folds her hands in her lap. “So, should I take it that you’re sitting here and feeling sorry for yourself?”

  “I’m not feeling sorry for myself.”

  “Uh-huh. Of course you’re not.”

  Silence.

  “I saw Charly.”

  My eyes snap up to hers. “You didn’t give her a hard time, did you? Because you don’t know the full story.”

  A smile creeps onto her lips, but her eyes frown at me. “Of course I didn’t give her a hard time. What do you take me for?”

  “Protective. Like a guard dog, only Chihuahua-sized.”

  She laughs. “No, I talked to her. Invited her in the house. Gave her some piña colada.”

  “She’s still here?” I tense.

  “No. She left a little while ago. Called a cab.”

  Well, at least I know she got off safely. I don’t need to call her now.

  I glance down at my phone.

  “Was she okay?” I ask.

  “Do you care?”

  “No.” Yes.

  “Then, why ask?”

  “Because you drummed good manners into me while I was growing up.”

  “Good to know you listened. And you can listen to me now again.”

  “Please, Gran.” I sigh. “I’m not in the mood right now.” I flop back against the sofa, covering my face with my hands. “And you don’t know the full story, so you can’t pass comment on it.”

  “Charly told me.”

  I drop my hands from my face and sit up. “She told you what?” I ask carefully.

  “Everything. About her marrying that gay Canadian friend of hers to get him a green card.”

  She told my gran.

  “Gran, you can’t tell anyone. It would get her in serious trouble if the authorities found out. She’d go to jail.”

  “Good Lord, boy, I’m not dumb. Of course I know she’d go to jail. You, on the other hand, are looking pretty dumb to me right now.”

  “Jesus, Gran. Kick a guy while he’s down, why don’t you?”

  Even though she’s not wrong. I do look like a dumb fuck. First, Piper and Cain. Now, Charly.

  “Do you know what your problem is, Vaughn?”

  “No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

  “You care too much about what people think of you. You never used to, but when you got out there in Hollywood, it changed you.”

  “Of course I care what people think about me. My career depends on it. And, right now, I look like a fucking idiot—yet again. It’ll probably be inscribed on my headstone—Vaughn West, Dumb Fuck Who Didn’t Know His Best Friend Was Screwing His Girlfriend Behind His Back for Months. And the Next Girl He Met and Fell for Turned Out to Be Fucking Married.”

  “That kind of wordage would be expensive on a headstone, Vaughn. And I don’t think they allow curse words either.”

  I give her a droll look. “Then, I’ll ask them to use an asterisk in fuck.”

  “God, you’re dramatic.” She laughs. “So, the world thinks Charly cheated on you? Big deal.”

  “I look stupid.”

  “You don’t look stupid. People, if anything, feel sorry for you.”

  “I do look stupid,” I argue. “And this could affect my career in a negative way. The stuff with Piper and Cain was bad enough, but at least I was the victim in it. In this, I look like the wife-stealer.”

  “Good Lord, Vaughn. Who cares what people think? Did you know that Eddie Fisher left Debbie Reynolds, his wife and the mother of his child, for Elizabeth Taylor, his wife’s close friend? He married her the same year he divorced Debbie. Do you think that did any harm to their careers? No. People love scandal. That didn’t do Eddie’s or Liz’s careers any harm.”

  “Things are different nowadays, Gran.”

  “No, they’re not. There might be all this social media now, but it’s just a different century with the same kind of people with the same opinions. And opinions are like assholes, Vaughn. Everyone has one, and everyone knows one. Stop caring what everyone else thinks, and think about what you want.”

  “I don’t know if I can trust her,” I tell her honestly.

  “Relationships don’t work without trust.”

  “I know,” I sigh. “That’s why I let her go.”

  “I guess you’ve got to think about if you’ll look back at this and think you made the right decision by letting her go. Or if you’ll look back and regret it.”

  “Do you have any regrets?” I ask her.

  “None. Because every decision I ever made brought me to where I am now, and I’ve had a damn good life.”

  “You’ve still got a good life,” I remind
her.

  “I don’t have regrets, but I did have a choice to make a long time ago. And the one thing I do wish is that I hadn’t taken so long to make it.”

  “But you made the right choice.”

  She looks at me and smiles with a softness in her expression that I rarely see on my Gran’s face. “I made the best choice. Remember, you only get one shot at this life, Vaughn, so you gotta grab it by the balls and make the most of it.”

  Hearing my gran say balls makes me chuckle. And also reminds me of Charly and the first time we met.

  Pins.

  My Pins.

  I rub my hands over my face.

  Is my problem that I don’t think I can trust her? Or is it about caring what everyone will think of me if I stay with her?

  And I know it’s the latter.

  I’ve been letting my head…my ego…rule my heart.

  I look at Gran. “You’re right. I do care too much about what people think.”

  “The wrong people,” she says.

  And she’s right.

  When the only person I should be caring about is Charly. What she thinks of me.

  My gran is right. Screw what everyone else thinks. I want Charly.

  And I’m going to get her.

  I stand up. “Do you know where Charly is right now?”

  A slow smile spreads across my gran’s face. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  Charly

  After I went over to Vaughn’s parents’ house with his gran, we sat down in the living room. She gave me a piña colada. I downed the whole thing in one go, and then I started spilling my guts like a pig that had just been cut open for slaughter. I told her everything—the truth about my marriage to Nick.

  But something tells me that I can trust Phoebe.

  Or maybe it was just the two strong piña coladas telling me that.

  Either way, it doesn’t matter.

  I lost Vaughn, so nothing matters to me right now.

  I know I should ring Nick and tell him what happened, but I just can’t bring myself to talk to anyone.

  Every time I open my mouth to speak, I feel like I’m going to cry. So, I’m keeping it shut.

  After I talked to Phoebe and cried my way through a box of tissues, I was embarrassed that I’d unloaded on her like that.

  So, I thanked her for everything, and I looked up flights. Turned out, there wasn’t a flight to New York until tomorrow night.