Candles flickered and sexy music played as Amber sipped on a glass of wine—she wanted to open the champagne with Drake. Then, she sat and anticipated what would transpire in the moments to come.
But hours later, when the food was cold and the champagne was hot, it became heartbreakingly apparent that he had forgotten their anniversary (again).
Amber sipped on the no-longer-bubbly drink alone, and finally relaxed in the tub, until her nose was just above water. The screech of truck tires in the driveway brought her back to the surface.
Gravel had scattered into the neighbor’s yard. Drake cursed and stumbled up the front steps to a locked door. Unable to locate his keys, he beat on it with clenched fists … bang, bang, bang. Amber sprang from the tub, threw her gown on, and hurried to let him in before he woke the little ones.
“Why the hell did you lock the door, woman?” he bellowed at her.
Amber had come to expect moments like these, over the past few years, especially on their anniversary, but never really got used to it. She looked at him with a mixture of disgust and empathy, because she knew what had made him that way. Deep down, even though she detested his behavior, she longed to hold him and tell him everything would be okay. To let him know that he was still the man she loved. But in the heat of that moment, pain and anger overcame her.
“Quiet or you’ll wake the kids, you drunken fool!” She presented her words in a loud whisper. “Where have you been?” She completely avoided his question about the locked door.
“Nowhere that concerns you.” His voice sounded cold and condescending. He threw her a slight grin, and for a moment, she imagined a hint of concern in his eyes. Perhaps he had noticed the disappointment and hurt written on her face, because his demeanor softened a bit, but no—it only mocked.
“Aw, come on, baby. You wanna climb in daddy’s lap and tell him all about your night?” He traced her soaking wet auburn hair to the ends and wrapped his fingers around the spaghetti straps of her silk lavender nightie, then continued downward toward her soft, perky breasts.
Even years later, at six feet two inches, Drake’s two-hundred pound, non-chiseled-yet-not-flabby frame, made him the perfect hot-dad type it seemed all the women in town wanted. And apparently at least one had been successful that night. His clothes were disheveled, his hair tousled, and the aroma of Chanel No. 5 hung in the air. He used to buy the same perfume for her. Despite knowing all that, it took everything she had to resist his touch.
She slapped his hand away in an attempt to show her disgust.
“You’re a bit too late. I’ve already taken care of myself tonight.” Her words were meant to be sharp, but she hoped he didn’t hear the obvious cry for attention in her voice. “Why don’t you go find whoever put that ridiculous smile on your face tonight and finish your good time?”
Drake smiled and winked, then said, “Well, at least it would get done right, then.”
Amber slapped his cheek so hard the sting rushed to her fingertips like fire. She turned toward the bedroom and Drake followed. She slammed the door in his face as she called out from the other side, “Happy Anniversary to you too, jackass!”
Drake’s footsteps thumped along the hardwood floor in an uneven, heavy tread toward the living room.
Amber lay in bed and reminisced about the way things used to be on their anniversary. Drake always met her at the door with champagne, purple roses, and a rack-of-lamb dinner that infused the entire house with flavor. It had become their tradition. He always remembered their anniversary and took months to plan his next big surprise for her. Of course, that was all before the … no, she didn’t want to go to sleep thinking about that. Her plan of recreating their happy moments had failed miserably, again.
Thoughts raced through her mind as hot tears streamed down her mascara-painted face. She ran her hands over her abs and thighs, and noticed a little less cushion than before. The yoga classes were paying off. She wasn’t supermodel hot, but her five-feet-six-inch frame was still pretty easy on the eyes. In fact, Amber had embraced her womanly curves that resulted from birthing two children.
Drake used to worship her body, but she could barely recall the last time he touched her with more passion than a peck on the lips, before he left for work. She hugged her pillow tighter, and felt inadequate. Who had she become? She was once a bright shining star that everyone was drawn to. Until Drake came along, she had never put much stock into what a man thought of her. How could she give away all of her power like that?
Amber wanted to call and cry to her best friend Janie, whom she had met several months ago in yoga class, but it was much too late at night.
Janie stood at five feet, eight inches with the body of a goddess. She had naturally curly, chestnut hair, seemingly ageless skin, and eyes bluer than the ocean. Though she denied it, Amber was sure her friend had been a model at some point.
The two women hit it off right away. Janie was married with two kids as well, but her husband frequently worked out of town, which allowed the friends a lot of time together. They drank coffee and exchanged the latest developments of their favorite television drama series. It helped that the kids enjoyed playing together. Thank God for Janie. She was Amber’s only true friend in a town she resented for taking her husband away.
Amber wiped her eyes and released a heavy sigh. Tomorrow would be another day, and she had to face Drake eventually. Just before she drifted off to sleep, she hoped he would have a huge red mark across his left cheek in the morning. Maybe then he would feel even a little bit of the pain that consumed her.
Chapter Four
The Day After
The smell of bacon, eggs, and coffee awakened Drake sooner than he’d hoped. The kids were fighting over which Saturday morning cartoon to watch.
He looked over, still sleepy, at Amber, who took control of the situation. “Annie, you and your brother need to find something both of you can agree on, or I am going to turn the television off completely.” Her tone was kind but firm.
Daylight blinded Drake as it spilled through the living-room curtains. He grabbed his pillow and stumbled to his bed, where he slept off the better part of the day. He didn’t even hear the door slam when Amber and the kids left.
***
After a sultry day at the soccer field, Amber headed to Janie’s house to let the kids hang out and cool off in the pool.
Janie’s backyard was like a small resort in its own right. It had a beautiful stone-paved patio that encircled the luxury swimming pool, with a built-in waterslide in the middle. So much foliage surrounded them that it felt like a tropical paradise to Amber. It had one of those fancy barbeque grills on the right, adjacent to an island bar, which plush swivel stools lined. To the left, a playground had everything to entertain small children, from trapeze bars, to rock climbing walls, and a sand pit beneath. Janie preferred to go to the park most of the time because she felt cut off from the world in her backyard, but the kids reveled in the refreshing water on their skin that day.
“So, I didn’t hear back from you last night. Things must have gone well with the anniversary dinner. Was Drake surprised?” Janie settled into the plush lounge chair next to Amber and handed her a strawberry daiquiri. Since her husband Brad, mostly focused on the kids when he came home on the weekends, Janie was often left to take care of herself as well. She was eager to hear even the slightest sexy detail about Amber’s night.
Brad and Janie were in love and very committed to their relationship, but it wasn’t what one would call passionate. Amber had never really seen them kiss, and Janie didn’t speak much about their sex life. When she did talk about her husband, she mostly referred to his fathering qualities. Amber didn’t push the subject. Her own relationship wasn’t a walk in the park, and she would have given anything for Drake to be an involved father again.
Brad made good money and obviously wanted to give his wife everything possible. He even bought an extra spa certificate once so Janie and Amber could enjoy a relaxi
ng day together, without the kids. Though her husband was just trying to provide her a much needed break, what she really wanted was a night of unbridled passion with her man. That was another reason she and Amber got along so well. Just like Brad, even when Drake was at home, he wasn’t always there.
“Not quite.”
Janie squinted when she detected the disappointment in Amber’s voice. “He had apparently done some celebrating of his own before he made it home.”
“What an asshole.”
“Whatever, I’m getting used to it.”
“Girl, you deserve so much better than him.” Janie reached over and offered her friend a supportive hand on the shoulder. “Is there anything I can do?”
“No, I’m sure he’ll come around soon. We’ve been through a lot together and I’m not ready to give up on him just yet. But you are right, he is an asshole.” Both women laughed uncontrollably, and almost spilled their drinks.
The rum offered a slight buzz, but Amber had to drive home, so they stopped at just one drink. And, just to be safe, she hung around for a few more hours as the kids frolicked in the water. Then she packed up and headed home. It was late and the kids were tired, so she hit the drive-through window on the way.
***
Drake was barely awake when Amber and the kids walked through the door. He smelled Chinese food. Annie ran through the living room and shouted, “Daddy, we won!”
“That’s nice, honey, but try to keep it down. Daddy has a headache.” His words were dry and unemotional, as he barely registered what his daughter had said. Annie lowered her head and walked away.
“You did great, sweetie. Daddy and I are super proud of you.” She shot Drake a nasty glare.
Amber settled both kids at the table with dinner then turned to Drake. He sported an ‘I’m sorry’ look that wasn’t quite convincing enough. Still, she handed him the carton of Mongolian beef.
He accepted it, but his wide eyes and hesitant movements showed he remained cautious. “Thanks.”
Drake didn’t remember much about the night before, but the soreness in his cheek warned him to choose his words carefully around Amber for the next few moments.
Occasionally, during dinner, Amber glanced over at him, and he rubbed at the few small welts on his face. She smiled and looked a little guilty, but satisfied.
When everyone finished dinner, Amber cleared the table, bathed both of the children, and put them to bed while Drake lay on the couch catching up on sports.
“You missed it again, Drake.” His angry wife approached the couch out of the corner of his eye.
“Missed what?”
“Annie’s soccer game. I realize you don’t have time to coach anymore, but the least you could do is show up and cheer her on.”
Drake rubbed his hands over his face for a moment in regret. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“I tried, but you were dead to the world. … Sorry, poor choice of words.”
He turned to make eye contact when Amber grabbed the remote and flicked the television off.
“We need to talk.”
Drake recognized that tone in her voice. It reminded him of what he had done wrong.
“Okay, if this is about me forgetting our anniversary—”
“Again! … You forgot it again. Does our marriage, our relationship, not mean anything to you, Drake? Do I not mean anything to you?”
“Oh come on, give me a break!” His words were loud and abrasive. Amber pointed toward the kid’s room and gestured a finger over her lips. Drake got the message and lowered his voice.
“I’ve got a lot on my mind, woman.”
“And you think I don’t? This happened to both of us in case you don’t remember. I was there too. It was a terrible thing to go through, but we have two great kids who need us. You miss Annie’s soccer games and have barely even hugged Max since that night.” Amber bit her lip, and tears welled in her eyes. She brushed at them in an angry gesture.
Drake stood and grabbed his old Red Sox hat, then stormed out the door. Amber followed close behind and yelled, “You can’t keep shutting me out! We have to deal with this!”
He cranked his truck and sped out of the driveway again. A few of the neighbors turned their porch lights on, so Amber stepped back inside and closed the door.
At that point, Max called out to his mom, obviously awoken from the noise. She went to him and stroked his soft, sandy blonde hair until he fell back to sleep.
Amber exited the bedroom, left the door ajar in case Max needed her again, and made her way to the couch. Gravity finally dominated and tears rolled down her cheeks without reservation. She wiped her eyes and spied a blue album that rested on the shelf of the entertainment center. A bookmark that featured the Footsteps poem allowed her to find the article with ease.
As Amber closed her eyes, she returned to that night. Only, she didn’t see the flashing lights or hear the blaring sirens. Her mind always went back to the argument. The self-abusive thoughts took over once again:
If only I hadn’t been so selfish. It was a great opportunity for Drake, and he had been so supportive of my career all those years. That night could have ended so much better. Maybe we would have come home and celebrated his promotion with an all-night love-making session. Instead, Drake disappeared to God knows where for a few days. I still wonder where he went.
Everything had been put into perspective for her after that fateful night. Amber realized that time with her children was borrowed, not promised, and she wanted to be there for every moment of their lives.
Drake, on the other hand, couldn’t deal with the pain of what he had done, and took the complete opposite path. He buried himself in his work, and avoided Amber and the kids. Every time he walked out the door, Amber worried it was the last time she’d ever see him.
They once were best friends who did everything together, even before the kids came along. Why was he shutting her and the kids out? What had she done to make him not want to be with them?
For the first time in their lives together, Amber felt estranged to her husband. He was going through something even she couldn’t help with.
Amber replaced the newspaper clipping back in the album with careful movements, and once again, she went to bed alone. As she rested her head on a tear-soaked pillow, she wondered where Drake had gone.
Chapter Five
That Night
Meanwhile, the bars had closed. Not ready to face Amber yet, Drake had called a friend.
“Hey babe, it’s me. Feel like some company?”
A half-hour later, he lay in the arms of a beautiful leggy blonde with crystal blue eyes and peachy complexion. After what she could only consider meaningless, animal passion, the two lay side-by-side but barely touched.
“Feel better?” It was a rhetorical question. Gretchen had come to terms with the fact that she was nothing more than his last call on a lonely night, and actually felt sorry for him. He was dealing with some pretty powerful demons, but would never open up to her about them. She would never be that girl for him.
Drake turned to face the wall.
Gretchen always seemed to go for the love ‘em and leave ‘em type. After three failed marriages, no kids thankfully, she had not been in a serious relationship in years. The fact that Drake had a wife didn’t make much of a difference. Her views on marriage were severely skewed when she found her first husband in bed with her sister.
Her motto had become, “Better to be the cheater than to be cheated on.”
Drake barely even took notice when Gretchen softly slipped out of the bed. She flaunted her double-D mountains of perfection, and size twenty-four waist-line, as she disappeared into the bathroom for a moment. When she reappeared, Drake was nowhere to be found.
“Surprise, surprise.”
She turned the light off and went back to bed alone.
***
As he drove home, broken images from that fateful night flooded his mind. For a brief moment, the
past morphed with the present—flashing lights, a sea of cops and paramedics, the whoosh of the chopper blades. He remembered looking over at Amber, as she comforted their screaming children.
“Ugh, get it together, Drake,” he scolded himself.
He felt satisfied sexually, but completely empty everywhere else that mattered, so he headed home, and hoped Amber was asleep.
***
A little more sober than last time, Drake quietly pulled into the drive and killed the headlights. He slipped in the front door and sat on the couch for a moment to gather his thoughts. The blue album on the entertainment center drew his eyes. Once again, the bookmark led the way, and Drake opened it to the article with very little effort. Despite remembering the gory details all too well, he sat and read:
‘Boy dies on way to emergency room after being struck by the vehicle of a local man and woman.’
A tear betrayed him as he continued to read:
‘Local anchorwoman, Amber Woods, was in the passenger seat of the Honda SUV that struck a twelve-year-old boy as he tried to cross the street. Amber’s husband Drake, was driving the vehicle at the time. Allegedly, the couple was in a heated argument, after an anniversary dinner they’d shared at a local bistro earlier that night. Authorities arrived on the scene just moments after the little boy was found. He was not breathing and lacked a pulse. Drake Woods administered CPR on the boy until emergency services arrived and took over. Little Deacon Smith was later pronounced dead at the Providence Medical Center on Friday, May 2, 2003. Authorities say the child was riding his bike to a friend’s house in the dark without reflectors. No charges were filed against Mr. Woods or his wife. No comments have been made by either family at this time.’
Drake closed his eyes while his version of the events that preceded the incident played back in his mind, like an all-too-familiar, old song. How could they report it in such a callous way? … So cold and unfeeling. Nothing like the emotional hell he was living in day in and day out.
When Darkness Breaks Page 2
