by Portia Moore
He sits next to me and lets out his own deep sigh.
“I really screwed things up.” He covers his face with his hands. I don’t say anything because he knows how bad this is.
“I know that I said I was sorry for how I treated you before but─”
“I know.” I can imagine how sorry he is for everything, but the words won’t make things any better at this point.
“We have so much more to focus on now. We have to look forward, it makes no sense to keep looking back on the past,” I tell him quietly. I see him nod out of the corner of my eye.
“I’m going to stay at a hotel a few blocks from here if you need me. I’ll text you once I check in to let you know where I am,” he says as he stands.
“Thank you.” My voice sounds tired and weak, but I hope he knows how grateful I am for him being nearby. I walk him to the door, and we stand awkwardly for a moment. We aren’t close enough to hug, and it would feel awkward and weird if we forced it. If Chris came out and saw us hug—with him being so angry—it wouldn’t be a good situation for either of us, though we both could use a good hug right about now. So instead I pat him on the shoulder, and he nods. He opens the door, and I watch him waiting for the elevator before shutting the door when he’s finally on his way down.
“You look like you were sad to see him go?” I turn and see Chris sitting at the bottom of the staircase. His expression is somewhere between crossed and bemused.
“You’re not?” I ask him keeping my voice steady and even.
He rolls his eyes. “I thought I made that pretty clear to you both earlier.”
I stare at him trying to read him, thinking of where we are in this moment. How hard I wished, hoped and prayed for him to be back here with me. How many nights I imagined us being here, and we’re here, just not exactly how I pictured it. I have to remind myself that us being here together is what’s important. It’s a small victory, but I’ll take it. He could be God knows where but he’s here with me right now, and it’s what I remind myself of before answering him.
“I wish it was under different circumstances,” I tell him truthfully as I walk over to him.
“You’re right. I wish my dad hadn’t fucked up my life,” he chuckles, running his hand through is hair. It’s longer and thicker than I’ve seen it—in need of a trim—but still beautifully wild. I want to rest my head on his shoulder. I want him to wrap his arms around me and tell me everything is going to be okay, but the state that he’s in I know he can’t do that for me right now. Unfortunately we can’t sit still and be stagnant because we have a daughter and we have to fix this, or at least start somewhere.
“I’ll never forgive him,” he says bitterly wringing his hands together.
I sit beside him on the stairs. “I know you’re angry, and I cannot imagine what you’re feeling right now, but I have to know where we go from here?” My voice is shaking and reveals every nerve in it. He lifts his head, and I make my eyes meet his. At first, I expect his eyes to be hard and angry, but they’re not. They’re the same soft green I used to see, and the tightness in my chest goes away briefly.
“I don’t know,” he shakes his head and puts his head between his legs. I put my arm around his back and lean my head on his. Our fingers intertwine, and he grips mine back.
“You have every right to be angry, but you can’t let this anger and hate consume you. Don’t let it change you, please,” I tell him quietly. His previous limp body stiffens, and his hand releases mine. He stands abruptly and when he turns around the tightness in my chest is back. The soft green eyes that were just there are still the same in color, but his stare is hard and his faced locked into a scowl.
“So it’s okay for Cal to be pissed off and hate the world but it’s not okay for me to be upset?” he asks, defensiveness radiating off of him. My mouth drops open, and I’m so surprised I don’t know what to say.
“T-that’s not what I meant?”
“That is what you meant. It’s okay for him to fly off the handle, to even try to kill someone—but me—I get angry with my asshole father who screwed my best friend and lied about it for years, and it’s a problem!” He’s yelling and his face is red. I press my lips together to try to keep from saying the wrong thing. Chris has never talked to me like this.
“I-I didn’t say that! That’s not what I mean I just…” I stand and touch his chest and he backs away from me as if I have the plague.
“Then tell me. What did you mean?” He shouts, and I can feel my hands trembling.
“I only meant that…” I’m at a loss of what to say. The glare he’s giving me makes me think whatever I say won’t be the right thing.
“My dad is a cheating selfish asshole, but he was right. I’ll always be the consolation prize. I’ll never be good enough for you!” I feel tears in my eyes, sadness battling against anger because of his icy tone. My emotions battle against my better judgment and I want to lash out at him, to yell at him for questioning my love.
“You want to fight right now?” I ask him angrily, feeling a tear slide down my cheek. He scoffs at me. I storm into the guest bathroom and pull out the handheld mirror I keep there and stomp over to him and put it in his face. “That’s who you are fighting with!
“I am not going to do this with you. I am not going to be your verbal punching bag. I can’t, no. I won’t do it! I love you. I love every single part of you. So yes, I love Cal. I even love Collin. I’m sorry if that upsets you, if you’re going to punish me for that, if you’re going to hate me for it, but I don’t know what else to tell you. This is not a contest! I want you—the whole man—for our marriage, for our daughter. I don’t want one of you over the other, so let’s just get that out of the way right now!”
His scowl is still there, my heart is beating fast, but it feels like a piano just got off my chest. The truth is out, and I hope he gets it. I hope that he doesn’t take it the wrong way, but I cannot keep doing this with him. I cover my face with my hands. I want him to say something but the silence in the room is heavy, and his footsteps that follow it are almost devastating as I hear them quiet in the distance. He’s walking away from me, without a word, without a hint of what his response is. My head is hurting so badly to think about the pain that this is causing both of us. I’m going to bed, and will try to get some sleep and hope that my husband is still here when I wake up.
When I open my eyes, I see that it’s dark out. My eyes glide to the alarm clock on my dresser and see that it’s 7:20 pm and I’ve slept almost the whole day away. It makes sense since I’ve gotten almost no sleep over the past few days. I climb out of bed and rub my hands down my face. I went to bed frustrated and angry after the blowup with Chris, and in that moment I didn’t care where he went and if he’d be here when I woke up. Now dread wrapped around worry has crept in and I realize there’s a possibility that he may not be here. It subsides when I hear the shower running in the bathroom. I walk into the bathroom and brush my teeth glancing back at the steamed glass clouding my vision of him. I grab my phone off the sink that I don’t remember leaving in here, and dial Mrs. Scott’s number. I’m a little relieved when it goes to voicemail because I don’t know what to say to her, but I’m also disappointed because I don’t get to talk to Caylen. It’s been two days since she’s heard my voice or her father’s, and I miss her terribly.
“Hey, Mrs. Scott, just calling to check in and talk to Caylen….” I sigh not knowing what else to say. When am I going to tell her? Should Caylen be here while—whatever this can be labeled as—is happening?
“Tell Caylen that I love her, and I’ll see her soon. Just dealing with… Actually just call me when you get this message. Thank you so much again.” Mrs. Scott has been a godsend, even in the midst of all the chaos that’s in her own life; she has been so supportive of us. She said that Caylen has been a welcome distraction.
I lean back on the counter and realize it’s been so long since I’ve shared a bathroom with my husband. The last time he wa
s here he used the guest room. My heart skips a beat because Chris has never used this shower. I inch closer to the shower and let out a small breath as I open the door, and the steam spills out. He doesn’t turn around, but I admire him from behind. His body is still perfect, created with the greatest skill to be the desire of any woman that lays eyes on it.
“Are you coming in?” His voice almost stills my heart because now I can’t tell them apart. Is it Chris or Cal? I won't lie and say in this second that I care. I strip out of my clothes and stand outside a few seconds before heading in. I close the door and step to the other side of the shower. The heat warms me, the humidity is almost like a drug. In here it’s like the outside world doesn’t exist, and for a moment it’s just him and me. In this space our problems are absent. I watch as soap and bubbles pour down his body, and I take in a breath sitting down on the bench in our shower letting the water wash over me. The sound of the water hitting the tile is hypnotic and I close my eyes and rest my head on the wall. I have the urge to say something, but I don’t want to say anything, I don’t want to ruin this moment, where I can pretend that things are okay and normal and I’m just in the shower with my husband. I want my husband to speak to me, to touch me and it seems so stupid in the midst of what’s going on but I’m relapsing, wanting to go back to when Cal could make everything better with his touch, make me forget with just his kiss. Whoever this is, is ignoring me completely.
“I think we should go back to Madison and be with your mom,” I blurt out quickly, and without much thought, but he doesn’t flinch. I hoped his response would clue me in to his mood.
“I miss Caylen.” My voice breaks, and tears begin to materialize.
“I miss her too.”
“I miss you too.” My first confession has opened a door of unspoken truths that I didn’t realize I would say until this moment. He turns around his hair sticking to his face, and his body a perfect vision with no soap hiding any of its glory. He looks at me with intense eyes, but I can’t read them. When he steps closer to me I get butterflies I’ve never felt before, and nervousness shoot through me. A grin spreads across his face.
“You miss me?” He smiles slyly his tone quizzical, but doesn’t hold the cockiness that Cal exudes. I swallow hard.
“Of course I do.” I can hear the hesitation in my voice. He steps closer to me, and I feel my back press harder against the wall behind me. I’m nervous, and he can tell as he laughs deep and low standing in front of me. He takes my hand and makes me stand up, pressing his body against mine, but something is off.
“Chris or Cal?” he asks, and there’s a glint in his eye that’s familiar but foreign.
“Collin?” I ask, slightly out of breath and his smirk stretches. I pull away from him almost sliding to the other side of the shower and slipping in the process. He grabs my elbow and steadies me laughing. I pull away from him and instinctively cover my body.
“I thought from that little speech out there, that it didn’t matter who I was. We’re all the same man that you love, right?” he asks haughtily. Leaning against the shower wall, my cheeks are on fire.
“Was that you out there?” I ask angrily.
“No technically Chris was ‘there’ if you want to call it that. Chris is all over the place right now, and your beloved Cal, well you saw the mess he was earlier. Those too can barely tie their own shoelaces right now.” His amused eyes sweep over my body, and I hug myself tighter.
“So what you said out there wasn’t true. There is a difference between us?” he asks with a knowing grin on his face.
“You know what I meant!” I tell him sternly, and I remember what he did to me the last time when he confronted Dexter without warning and unleashed Cal. “This is your fault!” I yell at him. He laughs at me dismissively.
“My fault? No, I’m not the one who tried to kill a man, or take a bottle full of pills to kill the rest of us,” he says stretching his arms over his head. I look away; staring at him suddenly feels wrong.
“No, but you went to Mr. Crestfield and if you hadn’t done that none of this would have happened. You could have given me some type of warning!”
“What’s happened wouldn’t have?” he asks amusedly.
I scowl at him. “Whatever this is.”
“You mean the psychotic break that ‘Chris’ had.” He uses air quotes and I grab the bottle of shampoo near me and throw it at him. He blocks it and only laughs at me.
“You could have told me what you knew.” I growl at him.
“You’re asking from me what neither Cal nor Chris has ever given to you. Why are so many special requirements asked of me?” He grins, but I refuse to back away from him this time. Even though I’ve only known this part of him briefly, he seems to be the most reasonable.
“I hoped that you and I could have a more transparent relationship,” I say looking him in the eye. His eyes remind me more of Cal’s than Chris, and without clothes on he’s much more familiar than when I saw him with a suit on and noticed how truly different he was.
“Tell me, what type of relationship do you want with me…” His voice is low and almost seductive. He lightly touches my chin lifting it so that I’m looking directly at him. He leans lower, so our lips are only inches apart.
I pull back from him in shock. Is he serious right now? Is this a test? I am so confused by how I am feeling. My body recognizes this man—it wants him—but after everything I said earlier, this doesn’t feel right. Well, he feels right up against me, but this wouldn’t be right. I can’t sleep with Collin. I don’t even know him, and his actions are confusing me. He drops my chin and takes a step back from me
“That’s always going to be the problem,” he tells me opening the door allowing the cold air to rush in. He steps out, and I’m left even more confused than before I walked in this shower. If Collin is here maybe he’s the one who will be able to finally give me some answers. I turn the water off and grab a towel to wrap around myself. I follow him and see him standing in front of our closet, the towel neatly folded on the bed instead of around him. I command my eyes to dart away. I sit on the bed making sure my own towel is still tight around my body even though he’s seen me completely naked. I think of how the last time he said he’s always there which means… I can’t think of what that means but my cheeks warm with embarrassment.
“You said earlier, that you missed Caylen. Was that true?” I ask curiously. This version of him seems so much more calculating. Collin reminds me more of Dexter than anyone which means he can be manipulative too.
“Of course it was.” He pulls out a pair of Cal’s slacks and a dark blue dress shirt. “She’s my daughter too,” he answers simply, and it sounds so odd that I have to laugh. I rest my head in my hands and ponder that notion.
“I may not be who you want here, ideally. However, I am the most stable now, and stability is what I assume that you’d want for Caylen?” I glance at him briefly and see he’s halfway dressed now.
“Yes,” I tell him honestly. Then I realize he’s not putting on pajamas or everyday clothing but a full on suit.
“Where are you going?” I ask him not hiding the worry in my voice. The last time he went out on his own disaster followed.
“We’re having dinner with Dexter and Helen.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “What? When did you set all of this up?”
“You’ve been asleep for most of the day. I thought we should probably get life moving along. I know you process things internally, but I prefer action through movement and accomplishments,” he jokes but his tone borders on condescending.
“What does that mean?”
“See this. The talking, the analyzing instead of actions.” He puts on his tie.
“I’m not going,” I tell him stubbornly. He stops and looks over at me, his stare so pointed that I look away from him.
“So if I didn’t invite you, you’d swear that there was a conspiracy going on to keep you in the dark.”
“I don’t trust
them, and I’m not sure if I trust you. All of you have lied and kept things from me, and I feel like a pawn in a stupid chess game!” I screech, but he doesn’t flinch, he just shakes his head.
“You can choose to stay or go. Either way, I will be leaving in the next hour.” He walks to the door but stops before leaving out of it. “However, if I were you I’d like to be a part of the dinner with my husband’s newfound brother and psychiatrist,” he smiles and adds a wink for good measure, but it’s nothing like Cal’s.
I don’t know how he did it, but somehow it seems that we now have a white Bentley. Not a Mercedes, or a BMW, or even a freaking Ashton Martin. A Bentley. I did my best to hide my surprise when the driver brought it around, but it was extremely hard to do and even harder not to ask how he got it. I’m learning that Collin is extremely resourceful. The car fits him though, classic and arrogant. He doesn’t even listen to music but news radio, which is annoying but I really don’t want to talk to him. His hair makes him look like a modern James Bond, and I wonder if he was created based off Chris loving those movies. He’s clean and well-kept, everything is in place, and I grin to myself and decide to have some fun.
“Are you gay?” I see that he briefly glances at me and I spot the hint of a smirk.
“I ask because I was reading that sometimes an alter can have different sexual orientations.” I shift my body to look at him waiting for a response. “You are aren’t you?!” I say excitedly when he doesn’t respond. It would certainly make things easier.
“If I were you I wouldn’t be so excited because that would make things a whole world more complicated for you,” he answers smugly, and my triumphant smile immediately falls. Shit, I didn’t think of that.
“Don’t panic. I’m not gay.”
I let out a quiet sigh of relief and hope that he doesn’t notice. I also pull up the low-cut top on my dress a bit more.
