The Despair of Strangers

by Heather Topham Wood

  “I don’t deserve you. I know I don’t. I never did if I’m being honest. And you were right to leave. You were so fucking right. And maybe you should wake up tomorrow and run as far away as possible from me. But I wanted you to know first how I feel. I’ve loved you for a long time and I railed against it. Because I was afraid, a fucking terrified little boy. And you deserve better. You deserve a man who won’t make you feel regrets every second you spend with him. A man who doesn’t keep you guessing, never knowing where you stand.” His voice was so full of despair, but also honesty.

  “I wouldn't take back a second. You always went out of your way for me. Your words weren’t what made me love you. It was every small gesture to let me know I meant something to you. You’re good to the people you care about, Derek. I can’t fault you for being faithful, for not easily moving on from a relationship that mattered to you.” I pulled the blanket up, covering both of our naked forms.

  “You’re staying?” He sounded so relieved, it made me want to cry once again. He loved me. I believed him fully. But we were still dark and broken things, so there was no guarantee that love was enough to fix us.

  ***

  I woke up to the sound of Derek’s intercom buzzer. Derek was next to me, still naked, tangled up in his bedsheets. I cursed as I picked up my phone. It was almost seven thirty and I had two missed calls from Pamela. Before going to bed, Derek told me he had no plans to turn his phone back on anytime soon due to harassment from overzealous reporters.

  Shaking Derek roughly, he still remained unmoving. Finally, I kicked him hard enough to leave a bruise. He opened his eyes and stared at me groggily. My irritation with him faded when he gave me a slow, seductive smile. His eyes wandered down to my bare breasts. I rolled my eyes as I pulled the sheet to cover me.

  “Derek, your parents are here,” I screeched in a panic.

  “Oh shit,” he said drily. “I’m not allowed to have girls sleep over. Can you sneak out the window?”

  I groaned. “How’s it going to look to them? Hurry up and get dressed. I’ll try and pull myself together and come down in a few.”

  He gave me a quick kiss on my forehead. “Stop worrying, they like you. They’ll be happy you’re here.”

  I sighed, falling back on the bed. In the cold light of day, I wasn’t sure how to feel about sleeping with Derek again. He was in the midst of an existential crisis, probably not an ideal time to have sex with your ex-girlfriend. And how would his parents take my presence? They had rushed here from England to help their son recover from hearing the news about his murdered fiancée being killed by her lover. Maybe last night was a mistake.

  But then, after putting on a T-shirt and cotton shorts, he came back to the side of the bed to kiss me. He wasn’t simply kissing me because that was the gracious thing to do the morning after. He kissed me like he found his home once again.

  “Don’t hide up here,” he said, likely reading my mind.

  “Fine,” I huffed, cranky over the idea of facing his parents. I wasn’t even sure how to present myself. Was it worse to come down after a shower? Or make an appearance with the smell of lust still lingering to my skin?

  I decided to shower because I rationalized my concerns were all in my head. They were here to help Derek get through something terrible. I wasn’t a miracle worker. Yesterday had been perfect, but I wasn’t sure that would be enough to make him release his pain over Emily.

  My two clothing choices were to redress in my outfit from yesterday or wear one of Derek’s shirts. With our height difference, his shirts would fit like a dress. I hoped the shower and lots of borrowed deodorant from Derek would let me look fresh in day-old clothes.

  I glided into the kitchen, plastering an Alyssa Carmichael smile on my face. The Walshes each gave me enthusiastic smiles in return. “Alyssa, how lovely to see you!” Derek’s mother hurried in front of me, pulling me into a tight hug. When she pulled away, she gave me a once-over like she couldn’t quite believe I was in front of her.

  “It’s so good to see you too. Sorry I missed you. I had come over to help Derek clean for your visit, and I ended up completely filthy. Derek was kind enough to let me shower before you arrived.”

  Derek burst out in loud laughter. His mother startled at the sound, turning to face him. I gave him an annoyed look when her back was turned away from me. He gave me a faux, innocent one in return. “What? You didn’t actually think that story sounded believable, did you?”

  His mother swung back to face me, her eyes wide with excitement. “What’s going on? Are you two…?” At least she appeared happy, which made me feel less guilty about the night before.

  “I don’t know,” I said uncertainly. It didn’t seem like the right time to decide our future.

  Derek picked up on my discomfort. “Mom, please don’t scare off Alyssa. She may make a run for it any second if you keep embarrassing her.”

  Derek’s mother gave him a pout. “I was only asking because I was happy she was here. Will you be staying? Taylor is sending over bagels for us.”

  “I actually should go. I have class in a couple of hours. It’s online, but I’m supposed to log in for a live lecture.”

  “Oh yes, Derek told me you’ve started the nursing classes. I’m not sure if I told you, but I had thought about majoring in it too. Problem was I could never stomach the idea of giving someone a shot. I was sure I’d do it wrong and an air bubble would kill them right then and there.” Derek and his father laughed affectionately; his mother was so charming. Derek and his father were the serious, quiet ones, while she brought the light into their lives.

  “Just give us a sec,” Derek said to his parents as I scooped my purse off of the counter. With a quick goodbye to them, I followed him into his office. After shutting the door, he looked at me. He was gauging my mood, probably noting the emotional exhaustion after the last twenty-four hours.

  “I have to talk to you about something,” he said, not meeting my eyes.

  I squirmed, even as I said, “You can talk to me about anything.”

  “My parents…” he started while my back grew rigid, surprised because I assumed he wanted to talk about our relationship or possibly the lack of one. “My parents want me to go away.”

  “I’m not sure I follow.”

  “My parents think it’s a good idea for me to get help. I guess to talk to someone. I don’t know. I saw a therapist after Emily was murdered, but I haven’t gone in almost a year.” He still wouldn’t look at me and I realized it was because he was embarrassed, ashamed over the weakness he believed to exist in himself. He continued, “They have concerns about the drinking too. Pamela has told them things and I guess I haven’t exactly been good about hiding that there’s an issue either. They want me to check into a treatment program.” Words died in my throat, so he filled the silence. “Pamela found an opening in a center in New York. The program can last anywhere from two to four months.”

  His look was expectant as I continued to remain silent. Finally, I managed, “And you want to know what I think?”

  “Of course, I do. My gut is telling me not to go. The thought of fucking leaving you, Alyssa…I mean, I don’t even know what I am to you right now. But what if there’s a chance I could be better for you? Like there’s another Derek that could exist if I just found a way…”

  “Found a way to let her go,” I said roughly.

  He shook his head. “No. This isn’t about her.”

  “Derek, you’ve been through a shock. I don’t expect you to turn off your feelings for her. You may feel…betrayed by her actions, but that doesn’t mean you have to hate her to love me.”

  “Alyssa, before we move forward, I want you to know I’ve been in love with you for a long time. My love for you has absolutely nothing to do with her.”

  “I love you too and that’s why I understand you need time to get over her.”

  “But I feel what I had with Emily wasn’t the truth. Did you ever hear about Picasso having a pai
nting layered over another painting? It makes me think of Emily and me. I only knew the top layer, the pretty picture she wanted the world to see. But beneath it was the truth, a more honest, albeit uglier version of our relationship.” His breath was ragged as he continued, “And I want to go back in time and tell myself to wake the fuck up. Like I spent all these years being in love with someone who wasn’t even real. Loving someone who despised me—”

  “I don’t believe she hated you, Derek. That’s not possible because I know you. And how could anyone hate someone so good inside? People don’t cheat because of a flaw in another person. People cheat because something isn’t right inside of them.” I felt the truth because I had accepted Jake would’ve cheated on me no matter what. I didn’t have to be thinner, prettier, or more outgoing. He would’ve never remained faithful regardless. “Your relationship may not have been perfect, but there was still love there.”

  “But why do I feel so different with you? Like I didn’t have to change. I didn’t have to be a better person, a more social, charismatic person.” He took my hand in his, closing his eyes tightly. “You accepted me, flaws and all. And loved me anyway. You didn’t need to change me to love me. Did she love me or did she love my potential?”

  His words gave me hope and clarity. I wanted to tell him to stay with me. We could pretend nothing outside of us existed. But my love was never selfish. I couldn’t be the one who took, even though it would cause me hurt. He needed more help than I could give him alone. And I had to rely on my faith to believe one of the reasons he wanted to get better was to come back to me. “You should go,” I whispered. “I think your parents are right and you know they are too. That’s why you’re asking me.”

  He leaned down; his forehead pressed against my own. “But how can I leave? Last night was—”

  I don’t let him finish. “The start of a new chapter.” I scrunched up my face. “I was going for a book analogy, but not sure I like the sound of it. How about we say it was an ellipsis.”

  “An ellipsis?”

  I nodded. “Yes, you know dot, dot, dot. It may be an abrupt ending, but there’s more to come.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Three months later…

  Derek had no idea I was coming to pick him up. He had made arrangements through Pamela, but she called me with a change of plans. She claimed it was because she didn’t want to be caught dead at that “little rehab center where my most profitable author has been drying up.” But despite her brashness, Pamela cared for Derek more than she’d ever let on.

  Derek’s parents had brought him to a treatment center on the same day they flew in. Although I hated him leaving, I felt like it was right. He needed help, and I couldn’t heal him with my love alone. I wanted him to have his own strength, so that when we were together again, it’d be forever.

  Derek wasn’t allowed his phone while in the program. Communication with the outside world was limited because the patient had to concentrate on his or her recovery. Minimal calls were permitted, but Derek never felt right calling me from the public phone, surrounded by patients, limited to ten-minute conversations. After his second week in treatment, we decided to write each other letters instead.

  I had wanted to visit, pleaded with him in my letters, but he refused every time. He said it would be too depressing for me to visit, the sadness too likely to permeate what should be a blissful reunion. He said I was too empathetic and it would hurt me too much to leave him after a visit. He wasn’t wrong, so I waited impatiently, putting all my feelings down on paper.

  I wrote to him like I was keeping a diary. I didn’t censor myself and was finally honest in a way I hadn’t been since we were merely A and D. I told him about how he had changed me in the best possible ways. He had proven my worth should never be decided by people who thought me worthless.

  I admitted I missed him, but loved him more. Loved him enough I wouldn’t rush him to come back to me.

  And he wrote me beautiful words, confessions that might be impossible to speak aloud, admit face to face. But I had known that about him, he was a born writer, always able to express himself better on paper. He was honest about everything—including Emily.

  I don’t hate Emily. But I’m not in love with her either. I can’t hate her because she brought you to me. So, if I did believe in some sort of afterlife, I would hope you were her way to make amends. Because I now know what I had with her was never real. I can see the fissures I never acknowledged before. But denial was always safe. Denial kept me from believing of her dishonesty, of living in a fantasy world where I was the one to blame for her death. Hating myself was simpler than hating someone I had thought I loved.

  But did I love her so much or love the way she made me feel? Because I never felt like that, like I fit in. I preferred being inside my head, inside my stories. And when I was with her, she just glided through life, made everything feel so effortless. Drew me out of my shell.

  But how do you choose a lie over the truth? I could’ve lost you, lost a love that was so pure it seemed more likely to be a deception than the actual lie. And maybe you can never forgive me for that.

  Reconciling his feelings about Emily was an important part of our future because I wouldn’t pretend any longer. I had always told him his grief was his own, that he had to choose when to move on.

  Most of his letters were love letters to me, reassurances that what he felt for me was powerful.

  Each day, I feel like I’m getting closer to being with you and that’s what I hold onto. Reliving all my mistakes has been hell, but also provided me with clarity. I need you, Alyssa. All I dream about is us together.

  I love you as A. I love you as Alyssa Carmichael. And I love you as Alyssa Carter. Don’t ever doubt that these three things are real.

  I kept the letters in my purse, bringing them everywhere. If I was having a bad day, I’d take one out, letting his words wash over me. Because I needed to believe in them, believe in him. We never held faith in happy endings, only tragic ones, but maybe two broken things could become whole together after all.

  Outside of the treatment center, on the day of his discharge, Derek walked out of the brick building and spotted me immediately. I expected him to look angry, annoyed I’d come to the place he never wanted me to be. But he didn’t look that way at all. He looked like the world had melted and we were the last two people standing.

  I was relieved he was moving, striding toward me, because my knees felt weak. I had been picturing seeing him again for months, but the actual moment felt overwhelming, like I could collapse with release. Every emotion I’d been holding in since he left felt ready to burst out of me. He must’ve felt the same because he dropped his duffel bag at his feet and lifted me off of the ground. While setting me on the hood of my car, he cradled my face in his hands. He looked at me, not shy in his exuberance, grinning, his eyes electric with emotion. I was a mirror certainly because I couldn’t stop smiling, reveling in that no amount of time would ever lessen the potency of what we felt for each other.

  “I am so,” he breathed out, but then stopped to kiss me. He kissed me hard, desperate, not getting enough of me to sate him. “I am so fucking happy to see you.” Then, he was back to kissing me again.

  “Derek, we’re in the middle of a parking lot,” I whispered, breaking apart from him for a second.

  “I don’t give a fuck,” he groaned, then went back to owning my mouth.

  “Derek, you’re impossible,” I admonished while catching my breath.

  He moved his head back, taking a minute to drink me in, look me over as if I were the most absolute precious thing to him. His eyes were shining as he gazed back at my face. “You look beautiful and you’re wearing the shirt we met in.”

  “I remember how much you love my yellow shirt.”

  “I do. I love everything about you.” We moved into each other at the same time, locked in a deep kiss, his tongue slipping erotically into my mouth. Kissing me passionately enough I was star
ting to fall back onto the hood.

  Setting my hands on his chest, I reluctantly pushed him off, so I could get upright again. I didn’t dare look if we had any witnesses to us making out on the hood of my car. “Let’s go to your house, so we can be alone.”

  “Alyssa, are you crazy? I can’t wait three fucking hours. Do you think there’s some bushes we can pull in behind?”

  I burst out laughing. Damn, it felt good to have him back. “We haven’t been together for three months and you want to have sex behind some bushes?”

  “Oh sorry, love,” he said. “But we’re near the mountains, right? They gave me my phone back at discharge. I’ll look online to see if we can find a romantic cabin nearby.”

  Before I could argue, he tossed his duffel in the back seat and was on his phone in the passenger seat. I started my car, hoping he didn’t notice when it blew out a large cloud of smoke from the exhaust. “Perfect,” he said, grinning. “There’s a campground with cabins ten minutes away. I’ll put the address in the GPS and then we can head there.” He paused, then said wryly. “I mean as long as we can make it there in one piece with oil leaking and exhaust spewing out of this car.”

  “You were about ready to christen this car, buddy,” I reminded him with a wink.

  “True,” he said with a nod. His grin was wicked as he looked me over. “I’m going to apologize now because I won’t be lasting the first time. I plan to have you against the wall, fucking you like I haven’t had you in three months. But I’ll take care of you the rest of the night because I missed the taste of your pussy too. I’ve wanted it so bad. I’ve been dreaming about how I will lick you—”

  I swerved, narrowly avoiding the curb out of the parking lot. My cheeks were burning as I hissed, “Christ, Derek! I’m driving. Do you want me to get in a car crash?”

  “Sorry, no, we can’t get in a car crash because that would ruin my plans, my very detailed plans I have for your body and not just for your pussy—”