The Despair of Strangers

by Heather Topham Wood

  Less than an hour later, I groaned as I pulled onto his street. Three news vans were outside the gate of his house. None of the reporters were waiting on the sidewalk, but rather inside the vans on their phones. I placed the car in park, trying Derek’s phone again, with the same result. Derek was likely holed up in the house, avoiding everyone. There was an intercom at the gate with a code I used to have, but I wasn’t sure if I should just enter and try the front doorbell. For one, I wasn’t sure he’d definitely let me in and I didn’t want to stand outside rejected in front of the media. Secondly, I didn’t know if it was a good idea for the ex-girlfriend of Derek Walsh to be photographed at his house.

  Before I could think of a solution, a white SUV parked in front of me. Pamela exited the car, then shot a disdainful look at the reporters. I waved to her, trying to get her attention, but she didn’t make eye contact. I saw her enter a key code on the gate before sauntering into Derek’s house.

  I had her number still stored in my phone. Derek had given it to me in case I had difficulty reaching him when he was traveling for an event since either she or Taylor traveled with him. She answered on the second ring. “Hello.”

  “Hi, Pamela, it’s Alyssa.” When she didn’t respond, I powered on. “I’m outside the house and I was wondering if I could talk to Derek.”

  “He’s not talking to anyone right now, Alyssa,” she said condescendingly.

  “Please, can you ask him if we could talk? He’s not answering his phone,” I pleaded with her.

  She made sure I heard her insufferable sigh. “Just come to the gate and I’ll let you in. Do you have a disguise to wear?”

  “A disguise?”

  “You know, sunglasses or a hat,” she said irritably. “Just forget it. Make a run for the gate as soon as you see me. And don’t say a word to the reporters if they approach you.”

  “Thanks,” I said gratefully. She was a pain in the ass, but if dealing with her meant I could see Derek, I’d let her derision slide. Pamela was letting me in the house, which gave me hope. I could now pray Derek was willing to talk, let me help him through this terrible day.

  As soon as Pamela was positioned at the gate, I made a beeline for her. I didn’t dare look back, only rushed over. As I maneuvered around the gate, I could hear the commotion behind me. Reporters were getting out of their vans, with questions being shouted in my direction. Their voices weren’t muffled until we were inside Derek’s house with the front door firmly shut.

  I followed Pamela into the kitchen, expecting her to be taking me to Derek. I felt disappointment as I saw the room was empty. She turned to face me, her eyes scrutinizing me from head to toe. “What are you doing here?”

  “I told you, I came to see Derek. Where is he?” I adapted her same demanding tone.

  She made a vague waving motion with her hands. “He’s been holed up in his bedroom.” She added, “Didn’t you break up with him? So, I ask you again, what are you doing here?”

  “Because I heard about what happened. Is the story true?”

  Her lips tightened in a straight line. “The Hills and Derek were called as a courtesy before it went public a few days ago. Jon’s wife called in the tip. She saw the interviews with Derek’s private investigator and became suspicious of an affair when she started asking Jon questions about Emily and the weekend she died. She caught him in a few lies and when he threatened her, she decided to involve the police.” Pamela took a deep breath before adding, “There isn’t any doubts Emily was with Jon for a long time. He confessed after the police found evidence of their relationship on his computer.”

  “I’m here because I figured he could really use a friend,” I said.

  She nodded, although the mistrust didn’t leave her face. “You could try to get him to talk to you, but I wouldn’t hold out hope. He’s not taking anyone’s calls. Not even his parents’. They’re on a red-eye tonight here and asked me to keep an eye on him. He’s been a fucking treat, only yelling down when he needs more liquor.”

  “I’ll head up then and see how he is,” I said, straightening up.

  “Good luck, see you back here in two seconds,” she muttered.

  Despite being the middle of the day, the upstairs of Derek’s house felt oppressive, as if the air absorbed his grief and sadness. I wanted to cry. I wanted to cry until I had no tears left, but I had to shove down all of my despondency for the time being. I didn’t try the door, instead knocking loudly. I had no idea what state he was in, especially if he’d been drinking since finding out about the arrest.

  “I told you to leave me the fuck alone, Pamela!” Derek shouted loud enough through the doorway that I winced. Maybe this was a bad idea. I was feeling like Belle just arriving at the Beast’s castle. Good thing he trapped her there because she would’ve said fuck it, I’m bailing. I had free will and I was still stupid enough to knock again.

  “Derek, it’s Alyssa,” I said with a conviction I didn’t feel.

  I expected a repeat of his words for Pamela, for him to tell me to leave him the fuck alone. Instead, he swung open the door wildly, staring at me with bloodshot, disbelieving eyes. “What are you doing here?”

  My heart sank as I stared at him. He looked like he had gone on the longest binge of all time. Instead of faint stubble like he normally had, Derek’s face was covered by overgrowth. His hair appeared dirty, unkempt along with the old T-shirt and gym shorts he wore.

  “I really wish everyone would stop asking me that,” I murmured, sidestepping around him to enter the dark bedroom. I strode inside like it was perfectly natural for me to belong there. When I heard the door shut behind me, I took a deep breath, then gagged. Damn, it smelled horrible in his room, like alcohol and vomit. I went to the bathroom to turn on the overhead lights. The light illuminated the room enough to make him out in the shadows. I pinched my nose before speaking. “Derek, it smells like shit in here.”

  He laughed darkly. “So you came here to be funny?”

  “No, I came here to be with my friend,” I said forcefully.

  “I told you not to be my friend.”

  “Yes, I haven't forgotten, but remember when you overruled me on my wedding night and made sure I had a friend anyway? I’m doing the same for you.”

  “Did Pamela call you to come here? I want to be left alone. I don’t want to talk about my feelings. I would like to sit here in the dark and drink until I forget everything.”

  “Your parents will be here tomorrow. So, you can kick me out then. Until then, I’d like to stay. You don’t even have to talk to me. I could just sit next to you.” I forced a teasing voice, although his mere presence was depressing. “I’ll keep standing over you the entire time, watching you creepily.”

  He stared at me then, but the light was too dark to make out his expression. I hoped he wasn’t looking at me with hate, that he wasn’t still full of resentment for what happened between us. Right then, I wanted him to remember A and D, not Alyssa and Derek.

  At the oppressive silence, I said, “Derek, if you really want me to leave…”

  “No, I don’t want you to leave.” He sighed, heavy like the world was on his shoulders. “But I don’t feel like talking right now.”

  “How about eating? Have you had anything yet today?” He shook his head. “Well, I’m starving, so why don’t I figure out lunch.”

  “You’re always hungry.”

  I let out a surprised laugh. “Thanks for the compliment. Oh, I missed your lack of filter.” I walked closer to him, then again pinched my nose. “How about you take a shower, so you don’t ruin my appetite.”

  “I don’t have any food here.”

  “That’s fine, I’ll take care of it. Pamela is still here, so I’ll see if she wants to eat—”

  He didn’t let me finish. “Send her away. I’ll take that shower and be down in a bit.”

  “Derek, I don’t think I should tell her to go,” I said, feeling uncomfortable over the thought of asking Pamela to leave.

&
nbsp; He shook his head at me before swinging open the bedroom door. I squirmed as he shouted, “Pamela!”

  Seconds later, her heels were clicking on his staircase. She turned on the hallway light, making eye contact with me before facing Derek. “Yes?”

  “Alyssa is here, so you can go. Give her the Platinum card number so she can order food,” he said gruffly. Without waiting for her response, he spun around, stalking off to the bathroom.

  I shrugged helplessly before joining her out in the hallway. Following her, we both descended the stairs. “Sorry about that. Obviously these are extreme circumstances and he doesn’t mean to be that rude.”

  “Oh no, he’s always that rude,” she said. Entering the kitchen, she went over to a notepad in the kitchen, starting to scribble things on it. “And this isn’t the first time I’ve dealt with him drunk. I don’t think he’s been sober since you left.”

  I swallowed hard, not certain how to respond. Truthfully, it never crossed my mind that he’d take our breakup badly. I’d been focused on my pain. I didn’t expect him to be hurt because I was the one in love while he was not.

  Pamela continued talking while she wrote on the notepad. “I’m not sure if you realized this, but I knew Emily.”

  My throat felt dry. “I didn’t know that.”

  She was still writing, not looking at me. Her tone sounded forced neutral. “From the moment I met her, I knew she was bad for Derek.”

  “Pamela,” I hissed, shocked by her words.

  “Oh, I know, she died, so I can’t say anything bad about her,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I can’t say what a self-centered bitch she was, but Derek would never see it.”

  “Pamela, what if he hears you?” Thankfully, I heard the shower on from the floor below. God, this woman was literally the worst.

  “I feel bad about how she died. I do. But even in death, she made sure Derek would never be happy. He never saw the real her, the Emily who had to shine all the time, who couldn’t let him be the brightest star in the room. She hated his success—resented it. She did everything in her power to make sure the spotlight was on her. And he took comfort in that because that’s Derek’s way. He doesn’t like the attention; he feels awkward when praised. And instead of building him up, she’d twist things to make it as though she was being a good partner. She’d shine so he could remain in the shadows.”

  I was overwhelmed by her words, not quite sure how I felt about the picture she was painting. She nodded at me. “He was happy with you. I’ve known him for five years and you made him feel secured, loved without demanding anything in return. But she had to take that away from him too.” Her tone was disturbing, not sounding like a gossip, but rather matter-of-fact. “When you broke up with him, it was too much. I was around after Emily died. He was sad, probably depressed even, but he could still survive. He could still live his life, spend time with his friends and parents, work on his books. Since you left, he hasn’t written a single word.”

  “I don’t want to be the reason he’s miserable.”

  Pamela looked at me with pity. “You’re not the reason. Derek drives me fucking crazy, but I consider him a friend. He got fucked up pretty bad in the head by Emily and once he accepts that he can’t control the actions of others like the way he controls his characters, he’ll feel a hell of a lot better.”

  The fact was despite everything, I didn’t want to hate Emily. I wanted to pretend she was broken inside and maybe that was why she had cheated on Derek. Or maybe although she cheated, she still loved him. Because I couldn’t imagine anyone who really knew Derek couldn’t love him.

  Pamela bit down on her lip, evidently unsure of how much to tell me. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but I got the sense you left him because of Emily. Maybe because you didn’t feel as important to him as Emily?” I remained silent, prompting her to continue, “But he cared about you. You began to mean everything to him. Did you know he sent Taylor to dog shelters a couple days before you broke up?”

  “No. Why?”

  “He was adopting a Jack Russell terrier for you. He was going to arrange for a pet sitting service for when he was away for work.” She shook her head, her condescending speech returning. “While she was scoping the dogs out, one of the mongrels shredded her Chanel bag. Taylor almost quit because of the ordeal. Do you know how crazy those dogs can be? Shelters are full of them because most people can’t stand them.”

  Tearing the page from the notepad, Pamela handed it over to me. “This is the credit card number and the mobile of his PA. If you need anything, just call her and she’ll drop it off. Might be a better option than a food delivery service.”

  “Thanks,” I said with a nod. “I’m guessing he doesn’t have any food here?”

  She laughed drily. “No, unless you want Red Bull and something that’s at least ninety proof.” She patted my arm. “Good luck, you’ll need it with that one.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The last thing Derek needed was a counseling session. He didn’t need me to sit with him and perform an autopsy on the destruction of his worldview. Honestly, I didn’t want to touch any of the dark feelings likely swirling around in him. The thought of asking about the arrest was gut-wrenching. I had questions, of course I did, but I was afraid of the answers.

  After Pamela left, I called Taylor and made arrangements for her to bring over a list of items from the store. When I hung up, I thought of pouring the leftover liquor in the house down the drain, but I hesitated. I wasn’t sure of my place in Derek’s life and forcing him to confront a drinking problem felt like an overstep. In its place, I stored away the bottles left on the counter in one of his cabinets and tossed the empties in the trash.

  Taylor texted me when she arrived, letting herself in through the gate and leaving the groceries on the back porch. The press was still out front and I thought it best to avoid showing my face.

  Before bringing in the groceries, I had turned on his fancy speaker system I could never really figure out how to work when we were together. I was stuck listening to Derek’s techno music because I didn’t know how to change it, but at least the bass drowned out the sound of the reporters.

  Derek was still not downstairs as I unloaded the groceries. Eventually, I went upstairs to check on him because I really hoped he hadn’t gone back to sad day drinking. Opening his bedroom door, I peeked in. He was in his boxers, sleeping on his belly. The smell in the room had improved, so at least he showered before passing out. I shut the door without waking him, hoping he could sleep off some of his drunkenness.

  Back downstairs, I pulled up the Pinterest app on my phone. I had saved a few recipes before ordering food from Taylor. I was still a novice cook, but I wasn’t as helpless as my first few times in the kitchen. Derek would probably prefer takeout, but I hoped he’d appreciate the gesture more. Especially if the end result tasted like a dumpster fire.

  Making Derek lunch took long enough it was more likely I’d have to serve the food for dinner. First, I had to search for all of his cooking stuff. I knew he wasn’t much of a cook, but at least he had some basic pots and pans. Then, I burned the side of my hand on the stove and had to locate a first aid kit. Ultimately, I came across one in the medicine cabinet in the guest bathroom across the hall from his office. My hand still stung, even after the burn ointment and gauze, so I popped a couple of ibuprofens too for good measure.

  I was cooking for almost two hours without seeing a hair of him. There was a good chance he’d end up sleeping off his bender, but I could always wrap the food up for later. His parents would be arriving tomorrow, which was good. Because maybe he’d be more accepting of them trying to take care of him. The two of us had too much history. He’d already been close to resentful of my presence earlier. When he was sober, he might rethink his decision to let me stay.

  The food was almost ready when I heard his heavy steps on the stairs. The smell was pretty pungent, so it may have forced him awake. I gave him an encouraging smile a
s he came into the kitchen. “Perfect timing, dinner is ready.”

  He didn’t respond, so I took the pause to peek at him. He definitely looked better—he wore a clean black T-shirt and cargo shorts. He still hadn’t shaved, maybe not in a couple days, which meant he was close to sporting a full-grown beard. The man had scruff an hour after using a razor.

  “Did you cook?” He moved closer and thankfully he didn’t still smell like a frat house.

  “I did,” I said with a smile. “Bangers and mash.”

  His eyes widened with surprise. “You made bangers and mash?”

  “Yes, I did,” I responded primly. “I wanted to make you something from your own country.”

  “I was born in the U.S.,” he reminded me.

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Whatever, you know what I mean. I wanted to cook a family recipe for you.”

  He nodded. “Thank you, that’s a lovely gesture. It brings me back to those days spent as a child watching Paddington Bear after having tea with the queen. Mum would have football on the telly while serving us her famous bangers and mash.”

  God, he was an asshole. But, damn if I didn’t love that asshole. “Are you going to eat it or not?” I pretended to sound disgruntled, but I actually didn’t care he was being sarcastic. He was teasing me, something I preferred to shutting me out. Most people were put off by Derek’s gruffness, his sarcasm, but I knew he was actually one of the kindest people under it all.

  “Yes, sorry.” He looked properly chastised after I handed him a plate. I took a whiff of my own plate and cringed.

  Honestly, I was pretty nervous about being near him again. Weeks apart without seeing him made me desperate for a fix. I wanted to touch him, reach out to him. My anxiety would probably make it difficult to force down sausage, mashed potatoes, and gravy.

  Instead, I watched him as he took a bite. He chewed thoughtfully, taking his time. He made about a half dozen different expressions, skewing up his nose, pursuing his lips, and blinking in succession. Finally, he gave me a genuine smile. “This is delicious. I can’t believe—”