14. Weston
Is it fucked that I hope she is pregnant?
I want her to be mine, but I know trapping her with a pregnancy is the most irrational and fucked-up thing to hope for. I search her eyes, trying to determine if she caught on to the fact that I’m offering. If she told me she wanted to get pregnant right now, I’d do it.
“That’s a good idea,” she says. “I’ve been on birth control in the past and it’s worked just fine with me. I’ll, um, call my gynecologist when I get home.”
I kiss her again, then swing her legs around so she can rest against my back. I wrap my arm around her, placing my hand against her belly. I feel her relax against me and I close my eyes, imagining what this would feel like… forever.
“Can I ask you something personal?”
“I don’t think it’s necessary to ask me that after the conversation we just had.” I chuckle and she sits up, turning to look at me.
“Your parents have been very nice to me, your mother in particular, but you and your father…”
“Yes?”
“You don’t seem very close?”
I’m not surprised she picked up on that. “No, we’re not. We get along fine for short periods of time and as long as we’re sticking to business topics, but that’s about it. Things were different when I was younger, but that all changed some time ago.”
“Are you an only child too?”
I nod. “I am. I didn’t realize you were?”
“Yeah, my mom had a horrible pregnancy with me so the doctors said no more. Can I ask what changed with you and your dad?”
“My parents married when they were both young twenties. My mom told me that they were like Charles and Diana, only my mother was Charles and my father was Diana.” She gives me a confused look. “My mom was in love with someone else. He was her childhood best friend; they dated in secret from the time she was around fifteen.”
“Why in secret?”
I hesitate, not because I don’t want to tell her but because it sounds so ridiculous and made up. “Both of my parents come from money, old money, especially my mom. Their families didn’t marry just anyone; they needed to be from the same class, I guess you should say. I know it sounds like elitist bullshit and it is. Pierce, my mom’s boyfriend, was the son of their family chauffeur which is why they kept things secret. She actually threatened to run away and end her life if she couldn’t be with him, but he convinced her to marry my dad so she did. I guess he told her that it was the only way they could be together because if they ran away, her family would disown her and he couldn’t be the cause of that.”
“Oh my God.” Her hand covers her mouth. “It sounds so tragic and heartbreaking.”
“It was but my mom never stopped seeing Pierce or being in love with him. I guess she tried for a few months, but she kept finding her way back to him.”
“Did your dad know?”
“I think so but he didn’t have a leg to stand on because he’s the definition of a womanizer. He had a different woman in his bed every month. For the first decade or so, he was discreet about it, but then he just didn’t give a shit anymore. That’s when things changed between us. By the time I was about ten, I knew what he was doing. I saw the way people talked, the way he embarrassed my mother with zero regard. Pierce ended up getting really sick when I was around twenty and he passed away. My mother went into a deep and awful depression. Truthfully, I didn’t think she was going to come out of it. And my father, he took it personally. He made life hell for her, had zero compassion.”
“What? Why?”
“I think because he realized that it wasn’t just an affair. Pierce was my mother’s one true love and my dad couldn’t compete with that. I think he realized that my mom never loved him and probably never would.”
“But how could he be angry after all the women he slept with?” She looks so upset and rightfully so.
I shrug. “My guess is because of power and control. My dad has resented my mom for coming from a much wealthier family than his. I think it was his way of asserting dominance over her when he cheated. He never loved the women he fooled around with, but knowing my mom loved Pierce made him angry. For about two years our home was hell. I truly thought my mom would either die or get a divorce, but one day it was like it all changed overnight.”
“Why?”
“They went to counseling and my mom said she told my father that he had two choices—either stop all the cheating or leave. I think he realized he didn’t want to have my mother’s family as an enemy, considering their power and wealth in Chicago, so he stopped. My mother said that he hasn’t had an indiscretion since. I’m not sure if that’s true or not, but as long as she believes it, I guess that’s what matters.”
“Wow… wow.” She shakes her head. “I feel so bad for your mom. I know she’s an incredibly strong woman, but I didn’t realize how strong. Did she just decide after Pierce died that she was going to make the best of a bad situation with your father?”
I nod. “I’m sure it had to do with her reputation, her family’s wishes, and the fact that I was in the picture. I think she believed that staying together for my sake was more important than her desires or needs, even though I was grown.”
“I’m so sorry.” She presses her hand against my chest and I reach up and grab it, bringing it to my lips.
“What about you? Are you close to your parents?”
Her eyes shift from mine. “I was.”
“You don’t have to ta?—”
“No, it’s okay. I never talk about it with anyone actually. Xana knows because she’s been there, but Carson passed away right after my mother did so he wasn’t there to be my person, my shoulder to cry on.”
Shit. Tears fill her eyes.
“My mom was diagnosed with cancer. She had zero symptoms, was super healthy and active, and then one day she felt a weird pain and it was terminal, just like that. She died less than seven months later, and then four months after that, Carson was in a tragic car accident and died on impact.”
“Oh, Daphne.” I wrap my arms around her. “I’m so sorry.” I hold her for a moment.
“Sorry, that wasn’t your question.” She lets out an awkward laugh, wiping away a few tears. “I was super close to my parents growing up. My parents were kind of the exact opposite of yours, as much as I hate to put it like that. They were high school sweethearts, soulmates, always laughing and kissing and just so happy. I didn’t think my dad was going to survive losing my mom. He became a shell of himself. I barely recognized him, and then three months after we buried my mom, he was engaged to one of her nurses and moving to Florida to get married and start over.”
“What the fuck?”
“Yeah, that was my thought as well. I was devastated and blindsided. I felt like he betrayed my mom and even though he swears that nothing was going on while she was still alive, it just didn’t make sense to me.”
“Do you believe him?”
She chews her lip. “I do, even if it sounds like I’m just in denial. I don’t think he would do that. He said he’d never been alone like that; he’d always had my mom, and the nurse, Tina, had lost her husband in the last year so she could relate. When I lost Carson, I didn’t react that same way. I didn’t run into someone else’s arms so to me, it didn’t make sense. I do realize that he and my mom were together for decades and that it’s more normal than I realized when someone loses their spouse of many years.”
“How are things between you now?”
“Better. It’s not the same but we’re working on it. I sent him a postcard from Paris and I told him I would call him when I get back from here. I have yet to go to Florida and see his new place. I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”
“I can understand that.”
“Does that make me selfish?”
“No, not at all. That makes you human.”
It feels strange to share this moment with someone. A moment where we’re both so vulnerable, sharing things that we don’t share with anyone else. Especially since we’ve only known one another for a short period. I wonder if she feels what I feel. I wonder if she’s running from her feelings of losing her fiancé and using me as shelter from them. It’s a thought that makes my stomach turn.
“Hey, what are you thinking?” She places her hands on either side of my face.
“Nothing.” The guilt of my growing feelings for her starts to rear its ugly head, a new feeling on its heels… resentment. Will I grow to resent Daphne for replacing Mira?Is that what I’m trying to do, replace her? I know it doesn’t make sense, but my brain won’t let me get around the thought.
“That doesn’t sound very convincing.” She’s staring at me, waiting for a response that I don’t give. “Did I say something? Is this because of Mirabelle?”
“What?” My eyes snap to hers. “Why the fuck would you bring her up?” My tone instantly grows sharp, making her flinch.
“I-I just thought since we were talking about our past and?—”
“Did I mention her at all? No.” I stand up, moving her off me. “She is none of your business and I’m not interested in discussing her with you.” I hate that I’m reacting this way but it’s like I can’t stop it.
“But you can mention my fiancé?”
“When did I mention him?” I almost spit the word him.
“Yesterday, you said you didn’t know I had a fiancé after I told your parents about him. I’m not trying to pry about your late wife; I was simply asking if your instant mood change had something to do with her, if I said something wrong that offended you.”
“Can we just drop it? I’m really not interested in bonding with you over the fact we both lost someone.”
“Fine.” She sits back down, crossing her arms over her chest and looking out into the vast darkness.
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” I soften my tone, “it’s just that there’s a difference between losing your wife and losing a fiancé.”
“Excuse me?” She turns to look at me, her scowl deeper than before. “How is that not offensive?”
“Because it’s not the same, Daphne. We were married for several years; we have a child together.” I don’t know what point I’m trying to prove here but I’m only digging a deeper hole.
“So what, our love wasn’t as ‘real’ as yours because we didn’t have a legal document saying so or a child? That is absolute bullshit!” She stands up, pointing her finger at me, tears pricking her eyes.
“I’m just being honest about how I feel,” I say, attempting to defend myself even though she’s right. This is bullshit and coming from a place of anger and frustration with myself. Frustration because I can’t just admit to myself that I’m falling in love with this woman. Frustration at the fact that more than likely, her love with Carson was more real than mine with Mira.
“You know what,” she says, shaking her head, “I hate hearing that. Masking cruelness in the name of honesty is such a cop-out. I’m going to bed. Good night.” She turns on her heel and walks down the deck as I hang my head in shame.
I step toward the edge of the deck, grasping the railing. I look up at the inky sky filled with twinkling stars, my heart feeling like it’s about to rip through my chest. I’m terrified. Terrified that I won’t know how to be there for Daphne the same way I didn’t know how to be there for Mira.
“I’m tired of fighting for your leftover attention, Wes. I’m tired of begging for scraps of your time. I feel like I’m merely a pretty object in your life that you can pull down from the shelf when you need it. I feel like I’m on the outside of your life looking in. I’m supposed to be your partner and I’m not. I’m just a prop.”
I remember one of the last fights we had before she got sick. She begged me to try harder. She told me that she was falling out of love with me and I could see that she was falling in love with someone else.
“I’m trying so hard to stay in this, to love you, but I can’t keep trying. I can’t force it anymore.”
“What are you saying?” I search her eyes for something, anything, but they stare back at me… empty.
“You know what I’m saying.”
“Is there someone else?” She doesn’t answer me; she doesn’t have to. “Who?”
“Don’t do this. Just choose, Wes, either me or your business. I’m tired of competing.”
She shut the door of the bathroom and that was the last night we slept in the same bed. I never asked her about the other man again. I found a love letter from him but after only a few lines, I stopped reading it. I saw the evidence of unfaithfulness, the hidden phone screens, the sudden girls’ nights that didn’t end until the early morning hours.
Nobody knew, not even my parents, that we were on the verge of divorce when she was diagnosed. Nobody knew that she was having an affair either. I didn’t blame her; I still don’t. I’m the one who ran her into the arms of another man. But what I can’t decide is if I made a mistake by not letting her go to him. I was by her side while she was sick, up until the very end. I never knew who the other man was; she never told me. I don’t even know if she broke it off when she got sick or if she even told him that she was dying.
I live with so many regrets, but the truth is, if I had to do it all over, I still don’t know what the right way would have been to handle it. I hang my head. I can’t do the same thing to Daphne. She doesn’t deserve for me to take out my unresolved issues and anger on her. She did nothing wrong.
I slowly make my way through the boat, down the hall till I reach her room. I knock softly but there’s no answer. I open the door. The room is dark. I kick off my shoes, crawling into bed beside her and pulling her into my arms.
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” I whisper against her ear as she pulls my arms tighter around her.