CHAPTER 17
*PRESENT*
“Messing it up”
Maya
I told my husband I was going to be the one planning our date. We decided to plan it for Friday night, and after much thought, I knew exactly what could be a date that my husband would love.
Just as I was turning off my computer, Sophia opened the door with a worried, frantic look, and I knew my chances of ruining my date with my husband had increased significantly.
I didn’t even have to ask. She spilled everything out in the fastest, least clear way she had ever spoken. It was the worst day for this to happen, but there was no time to even worry about it.
Mr. Musk-Smith had had the wonderful idea to write a letter to the public. A letter that we didn’t approve of and made our case ten times harder, because even though he tried to apologize to his soon-to-be ex-wife, he sounded like the narcissistic asshole that he was.
He had just showed the public that he was exactly how they thought he was. We never were able to control the narrative, but we tried to not give more ammunition to the public.
I wanted to hit my head on the table.
Stupid, selfish asshole.
My alarm had sounded exactly fifteen minutes ago, telling me it was time to get home if I didn’t want to mess up our date.
I was debating between saying fuck it and leaving without thinking of the repercussions, or calling my husband to tell him I was messing up the very first thing that we agreed on in our process to improve our marriage.
Could I still get there on time?
“What was he even thinking?”
Sophia asked angrily for the hundredth time.
If I left, Sophia would be the one having to respond for my team, even if I was still punished for leaving.
These days, she seemed less calm and collected and more frazzled around the edges. I could relate.
I called Aaron. He picked it up at the third ring.
“Hi, my love,”
he sounded so happy. “Hi, Maya. Can you hear me?”
His tone changed to a worried one.
“Yes, sorry. I—”
This was so messed up. “Aaron, I—”
“Are you alright?”
That got me out of my stupor.
“Yes. I’m fine, it’s just that something happened in the office and I don’t know if I will be able to get there on time.”
“Oh, I see…”
The disappointment was clear in his voice.
I wanted to tell him everything, make him understand me, but the truth was I had still failed him. Again.
I bit my cheek while passing my hands through my hair.
“Maya, don’t worry. We can reschedule.”
“I’m sorry. I really wanted to go on a date with you. I had everything planned and—”
“I know, my love. I mean it. Focus on whatever happened, and we’ll go on a date soon.”
Tears welled up in my eyes. My throat closed, and for a moment I thought I would start sobbing in my office.
A loud rumble surprised me.
“What’s that?”
I inquired. He made a sound in the back of his throat, noncommittal, and I wanted to demand an answer face to face. “Aaron,”
I said louder than I intended.
“You mean the sound?”
“Yes! Is that your motorcycle?”
I didn’t even breathe, waiting for his answer.
“Yes, why?”
he asked nonchalantly, like he didn’t get my whole body being on alert, alarms starting to sound in my brain.
“You’re riding your motorcycle again? Since when?”
My voice failed me at the end, and the question hardly passed through my lips.
“I never stopped,”
he replied softly.
How could I have missed it?
It wasn’t that he was hiding it. I had assumed he had stopped after that horrible day. I had never told him I didn’t want him riding, but the days that I passed through our garage, the motorcycle was covered with its black cloth and—
Did I imagine the dust on top of it?
My husband didn’t lie, so I must have imagined all of this. My brain conjured images, spiraling my anxiety.
“Maya, do you hear me? Are you still there?”
I gulped and tried to think of some sort of reply. The rumble stopped.
“I came to work on it, but I’ll let you know as soon as I get home, okay, my love? I’ll be extra careful,”
Aaron said in the soothing voice that he used with kids that were throwing a tantrum. “Breathe, baby.”
I nodded, trying to even out my breath and calm my heartbeat.
“Do you want me to leave the motorcycle here and walk home? Or maybe take a ride?”
I shook my head. “It’s fine,”
I said in a raspy voice. “Just be careful.”
One heartbeat. “I love you, Aaron.”
“I love you, Maya. I will call as soon as I get home. Or do you prefer it if I text you?”
“Call me, please,”
I said in a small voice.
“Alright, my love. Bye.”
“Bye,”
I said and the call disconnected. My black screen served as a mirror; I looked nothing like myself. Wide, scared eyes. Pale skin, worried lines.
I exhaled and put the phone down, my head low. I thought at one point someone opened the door and tried to talk with me, but I might have imagined it because after ten painful minutes, I was alone when my phone lit up, and with that, my spirit.
Aaron’s elated smile from our wedding illuminating my screen, signaling my husband got home safely. I answered the phone, and his greeting made my eyes water.
I tried clearing my throat, but no sounds could escape my mouth.
“Maya, you’re scaring me. I’m coming to your office.”
“No,”
I said too quickly, too intense. “Please, stay at home.”
I hung up.
***
AARON
“Is Maya alright?”
my brother asked when my wife hung up.
“No, she’s not,”
I said slowly, trying to get a grip after the revelation. He got up and went to the door, grabbed the keys, and rushed to get out of the house.
“What are you waiting for? Let’s go pick her up.”
I shook my head.
“I fucked up, Niko.”
I felt his warm hands removing my own from my face.
“I’m sure you didn’t.”
I looked up, and my brother looked at me with a little sad smile. “I’m still not used to you cursing,”
he joked. A beat passed. “What’s going on, Aaron?”
“We have been having problems, and I realized that I’m part of the problem. I didn’t truly understand what Maya was going through. I mean, I know she was in pain, but instead of trying to help her, I took a passive role, thinking she would get over it by herself.”
I couldn’t look at my brother. “I rationalized that she’s an independent woman who prefers to have her own space and time when she has to face her demons. I left her alone when she needed me the most.”
A sob came out, and my brother put his hands on my shoulders.
“This is good, Aaron. Now you know the problem and can fix it.”
“You don’t understand. I cried to her the other day. I put more pressure on her shoulders and forced her to go to therapy with me.”
My voice was anguished, my breath uneven.
“I’m sure you didn’t force her.”
“I was more worried about our marriage than her. I was playing the victim while I should have known she needed me to be strong.”
“You need to get all out, but I’m not going to sit here and let you drown in self-pity.”
I laughed humorlessly. “I did it again! This is not about me; it’s about her. She almost had a panic attack just hearing the noise of my motorcycle. She thought I’d stopped using it, and once she realized I hadn’t, she—”
“Aaron, two things can be true. Maya can be having problems, and that can result in your marriage having problems.”
“Yes, but I should have focused on her. I shouldn’t have let her get here with so little help. I need to show her that she can count on me, that she can lean on me and do whatever she needs to get better without having to worry about my feelings or our marriage.”
“Are you two going to therapy right now?”
he asked, and I just nodded. “Then that can be something you two talk about there.”
“I don’t know if we should stop going?”
I looked to my brother finally and found him deep in thought.
“You know I’m not good at relationships.”
I frowned, ready to start a debate about it. “It’s true, little brother.”
I rolled my eyes. I hated that nickname. “Don’t give me that attitude, I’m trying to help.”
He sighed. “I knew something was happening between you two, but as I told you at the barbeque, you two are going to be okay.”
“You still don’t understand. I know our marriage will survive, there’s no other option, but my wife is in pain. In so much pain that a rumble almost sent her into a panic attack. She asked me not to move from home instead of trying to help her.”
I pulled my hair. “She was so worried about our date.”
He sighed. Kept quiet while I sorted through my thoughts. I needed to find a way to show her she didn’t need to worry about me.
“What if…”
my brother started next to me. “This might be the worst advice that you have ever received, but”—he cleared his throat—“instead of telling her not to worry about your marriage, you could use it as an excuse to get closer to her. To help her.”
I closed my eyes and made a mental list of pros and cons of this new perspective.
I could show her that we’ll be fine while trying to get to the end of how much she’s suffering.
I grinned at my brother.
I had to plan the way to help my wife.