12. Old Wounds and New Pains
twelve
Old Wounds and New Pains
Dean
When Emma texted me that she was seeing a friend for coffee and told me not to wait, I didn’t know why I got curious. It didn’t feel like a coincidence that this was happening on the same evening after I reminded her that our marriage was open. The thought somehow troubled me, even though it was me who had made the rules.
The idea of following Emma after work had been floating around the spaces of my mind for the rest of the day. But when it was time to wrap up my final meeting, shut my laptop, and get off the chair, I didn’t think I was actually going to go through with it.
Yet, there I was, texting my chauffeur to go home.
Down in the underground corporate parking lot, I took a key to one of my spare cars parked there for emergencies and told the attendant not to expect it back before tomorrow.
As soon as I assumed my position behind the wheel, I punched in the name ‘Dee’s Café’ and let the navigation screen guide me.
Why was I doing this? Had my grief been so powerful as to alter my judgment, warping the concepts of right, wrong, and flat out embarrassing? Or was it some brand of curiosity that urged me to know the woman everyone thought I’d married a little bit better?
But shame . Shame was gnawing through my insides as I reminded myself that I was driving down the busy streets of New York to spy on my assistant. Feeling like a disgusting creep, I wondered if I had ever reached a lower rock bottom in my life. The answer was a glaring negative.
Shaking my head as I took a right, I thought of how nobody would even believe me if I’d told them what I’d been doing. Dean Allen, the tech billionaire known for his unmatched coolness, was following his personal assistant around town. They wouldn’t believe it. They would certainly laugh and shrug it off like some sick tabloid lie.
Only I knew the pathetic reality of my situation, and yet, it didn’t stop me.
Since Dee’s Café was fully exposed through its massive glass windows, I parked the car in a side street, away from the eyes of anyone sitting inside. Next, I walked along on the sidewalk, peeking in with quick glances until I saw her there.
There she was—Emma, sitting at a two-person table in the center of the café, with none other than Kyle. Bites that resembled jealousy started eating up little bits and pieces of my thoughts, darkening them, poisoning my head while disorienting it all at once. Jealousy was no regular friend of mine, but I knew what it tasted like, and that alien bitterness was right there on the tip of my tongue.
Perhaps the one thing that made me linger was the expression on Emma’s face. Or more accurately, her side profile as she leaned forward, enunciating something at Kyle’s recoiling expression. She suddenly raised her hands in the air, then lowered them abruptly to grab onto the side edges of the table as she leaned back in her chair. Shaking her head, she looked away while it was now Kyle’s turn to point a finger, looking agitated.
At that moment, the two women sitting right behind Emma got up and left, and a waitress went to clear up the table. I didn’t know what drove me to immediately leap inside, quickly claiming the free spot before someone else did.
With nothing but mere inches separating our seats, I could now hear Emma’s voice clearly in the midst of the bustling noise. I knew it was risky, since all it would take was for her to turn around.
“You gave me your apology. You wanted me to say; ‘ you’re forgiven ,’ and I did. What more do you want from me?” she asked, frustration dripping from every syllable.
“You don’t mean it . You can’t possibly forgive someone when you’re clearly still so mad at them!”
“Yes, I can.” She huffed loudly. “Kyle, you need to understand that I forgave you the moment I realized that you weren’t well. You didn’t hurt me on purpose. I mean, sure, at times I felt you were lucid enough to understand how much your actions were hurting me… but… I know you couldn’t help it.”
“Oh, great. Now you’re patronizing me.”
“Patronizing you? You had an illness, for God’s sake! And I stuck by you, hoping that things would change. What position do you think I hold to patronize you? Do you know what I am now? I’m now the one who’s sick!”
“Em—”
“No, let me finish!” She raised her voice an octave. “Do you realize how pathetic you made me? Of course not! Because you think you can come here and throw your apology in my face and all will be well. Well, it’s not!” She paused. “Do I carry on like a normal person on the outside? Yes. But did the therapy I tried to get after you work completely? Absolutely fucking not! Kyle, just because I don’t complain or shout, it doesn’t mean that I’m fine.”
“Well, then, tell me! Maybe I can help—”
“How? Help how? How do you think you can do that?” she quickly said. “Right now, I’m with who’s probably the best man I’ve ever met in my life—”
“Great! I’m happy for you!” His tone, however, wasn’t happy at all.
“No, not great, Kyle. The opposite of great. That man, with all the feelings that I have for him right now, stands oceans away from me, and I forgot how to swim.” She paused, inhaling sharply. “It doesn’t matter how attractive he is to me, or how much I l— care for him… I can’t let myself go completely. I can’t be with him the way that I’d like to. Before you, I had no fear of this. I didn’t worry. Back then, I could’ve walked up to him and just… went for what I wanted.”
“That can be reckless.”
“Ha! You think?” She stopped. A moment lingered between them, while the aftermath of the emotion in her voice filled my heart with sympathy. “Kyle,” she said calmly. “I don’t want to stand in the way of your recovery. And I’m happy that you’re getting the help you need. But for the sake of logic, please don’t expect me to give you a pat on the back and say that we can be anything to each other anymore. I can’t have you in my life, not even as a friend, because the very thought of you reminds me of the price I had to pay for having once loved you. The price I’m still paying, on the expense of any future love.”
“But if he loves you—”
“He respects me,” she strained. “Which is far more important than love at this point. He respects me and maybe even needs me… and I’m struggling to be there for him, struggling to keep the demons of my past—of what you did—from burning him with me. ”
Deeply touched and at a loss over what to do next, I knew I’d heard enough.
When an overworked waiter finally came to take my order, I thanked him with a smile, put down a tip for letting me sit here a while, and got up and left the café.
Alone in my car, I didn’t know what to make of what I’d heard back there. Did Emma really have feelings for me, or was her speech merely a tool to make Kyle feel guilty? Driving away, I pondered the latter possibility and was fully convinced that she had all the right to do so if she pleased. That man might have been unwell when they were together, but now that she was still dealing with the damage he had caused, three years later, what did he expect?
What would any man in his place expect?
The solid roads and weeping skies gave my gaze places to wander, while my thoughts roamed through flashbacks of our night together.
The look in her eye when I inched closer, holding her tightly. Her trembling chin. Her recoiled figure on the sofa.
She was scared of me.
“Say the word, and I’ll leave you alone.” I had said.
When she said, “No,” her hands had leapt to grab my shirt, as if afraid that if she hadn’t, she would get up and run away.
When she had whispered, “If we’re pretending I’m your wife, how about we believe it for one night? Show me how that would be,” she really meant to say, “Treat me like I’m a part of you. A part you promised to love and to hold, in front of God and everyone else. Take care of me the way you would take care of your real wife. Don’t hurt me.”
And when she, again, said, “I’m your wife. Talk to me like that,” she was actually saying, “Put my heart and mind at ease. Speak softly and kindly to me, and don’t make me regret this. Be sweet to me, the way you would be to the mother of your unborn children. ”
My heart ached for Emma and the great lengths she’d traveled to have one night with me, conquering her fear. For the first time since mom had passed away, I wished she were here to guide me. I couldn’t speak of this to any of my friends. And even if I could, they wouldn’t know what to tell me. Only Pearl Allen had the wisdom of her years and the heart of a woman to know what I should do.
As I approached my estate, seeing the massive mansion grow bigger in the distance, I wondered if I, too, was falling in love with Emma. From a completely rational angle, developing feelings for her would make perfect sense. She was the woman by my side through all of this. The death of my mom, the agony of silent grief, the quiet nights shared without complaint. Of course, my heart and mind would crave more of that.
And my soul was now pained by the reality of what she was going through.
Getting into the house, I saw Helen carefully pack the dinner she had prepared. She looked up and smiled. “Mr. Allen! When I didn’t hear from you, I figured you had already eaten.”
“That’s fine, Helen. Thank you. Please keep it packed, I’m not hungry right now.” I continued to walk toward the stairs.
“And Mrs. Allen?”
“Uh—Yeah, she’s out with a friend. Keep hers there, too. She might be hungry later.”
“Alright. Is there anything you need?”
Placing my foot on the first step, I shook my head. “Thank you, Helen. Have a good night.”
“You, too.”
There was no way I was going to sleep yet, nor was I interested in being social. My mind was on fire, and I couldn’t persuade myself to do anything of significance without seeing how Emma was doing first. Since she was still out, I changed out of my work attire and put on something more comfortable—a pair of joggers and a tee.
In my study, I picked up the novel I had started a couple of days ago and settled in my favorite recliner, propping up my legs and trying to relax as I pulled out the bookmark.
Once again, every sentence was twice as long, since I was only reading with half a mind. The words flowed, but all meaning eluded me. A page that should have taken five minutes took fifteen.
By the third page, and with great focus, I was starting to get into it, forcefully immersing myself in the world of the story and the character of the protagonist.
And before I knew it, there was finally a knock on my door.