40. Liam
40
LIAM
A drenaline courses through my veins as Darius and Jackson stare at me with twin expressions of bewilderment. I practically ran here to meet them, forcing myself not to think about what just happened. Thrusting the memory of Whitney’s gutting silence out of my mind.
“What did you just say?” Darius asks, even though I’m pretty sure he heard me the first time.
“I want to pay for Jackson’s college tuition,” I repeat. “I want to give him a scholarship. The Luke Monroe STEM Scholarship.”
“Did you just make that up?” Darius asks.
I shrug, smirking slightly. “Yeah, but it sounds legit, right?”
Jackson hasn’t said a word. He’s just sitting on the bench beside Darius, his expression thoughtful.
“What do you think?” I ask him.
He shifts. “I don’t even know if I’m going to college. I don’t even know if I’m gonna get in.”
“You’ve submitted, right?”
“Yeah, but I still have to finish my Columbia and NYU applications.”
I go to speak, but Darius cuts me off. “You can’t just pay for all our shit, Liam.”
How can I explain this feeling? This clarity.
“I know it’s unexpected, but I have to do this. This is what I’m supposed to do with the money. I know it.”
Darius shakes his head, glancing over at Jackson. Then he sighs, sounding somewhat resigned. “If this is what you want to do, I’m all for it, but we’re not the ones you gotta convince. It’s our dad you have to win over, and I have a feeling he’s going to toss you out on your ass when he hears this plan of yours.”
I rub the back of my neck, my nerves spiking. I’d anticipated that their father might be apprehensive about the idea. He doesn’t know me at all. If some stranger showed up at my house and told me he wanted to pay for my kid’s education, I’d probably take it as an affront to my pride or an indictment of my parenting skills. I don’t want him to feel like I’m judging them, even if I am sticking my nose into their business.
“It’ll be a challenge, but if you guys are with me, I think your dad will see this as a good thing… eventually. There are absolutely no strings attached. Neither of you owe me a single thing. He might be resistant, but I hope he’s on board, and if he’s not… ” I hesitate, unsure if I should say this next part. “Jackson, you’re almost eighteen. It won’t necessarily be his decision.”
Darius shakes his head. “If we go behind his back about this, he’ll be livid.”
“I don’t want to lie to my dad,” Jackson mutters. “I want to talk to him.” He stands up, patting his thighs. “Come on.”
I blink. “You want to go talk to him… now?”
He shrugs, glancing at Darius. “Why not?”
“Alright.” I stand up, clasping Jackson on the shoulder. “Let’s do it.”
The tension in this room is so intense, it’s almost unbearable.
To start off with, Mr. Cooper and I did not get off on the best foot. It started when I reached in to shake his hand and instead spilled his beer all over his shoes, and it only got worse when I accidentally stepped on the tail of Lulu, their dog, who emitted a yelp so sharp and heart-wrenching that I wanted to shrivel up and die on the spot.
It didn’t get much better once I opened my mouth; after I explained that I recently came into a large of sum of money and wanted to fund Jackson’s undergraduate education with it, Mr. Cooper had one thing to say:
“We don’t take handouts.”
His tone left no room for arguments. Luckily for me, I’ve been dealing with Darius long enough to know that his sharp tone is likely a front for deeper feelings.
Now, I’m sitting across from Mr. Cooper while Jackson and Darius float around the kitchen nearby.
“Sir, please let me explain before you say no.”
He nods and crosses his arms, his expression betraying nothing. He might be a tougher nut than his kids to crack. So I start talking. I tell him about Luke, about the kind of person he was, and how I’ve spent the better part of last year trying to carry out his life’s wishes, only to realize that what Luke would have really wanted was for me to be happy.
After I finish my speech about both the intellectual and fiscal value of higher education, Mr. Cooper uncrosses his arms and stares at me. Jackson and Darius have joined us in the living room, eyeing their dad with curiosity.
He glances at Jackson. “You want this?”
Jackson hesitates, but then he purses his lips and nods. “Yeah, Dad. I do.”
He tilts his chin down, his expression thoughtful. He looks at Darius, his jaw set. “What do you think?”
“Me?” Darius echoes.
“Yeah, dipshit. Who else?”
Darius smirks. “Never turn down a check,” he jokes, but then his gaze turns serious. “Jackson’s got a shot, Dad. He’s got a real shot.”
Mr. Cooper nods and meets my eyes, his gaze unwavering. “Alright,” he says eventually. “I have conditions, though.”
For the next hour, the four of us discuss the scholarship. Mr. Cooper insists that part of the deal means that I can’t just cut the check and run. Not that I was planning to, but it’s nice to know that they actually want me to stick around. Mr. Cooper also tells Jackson that he has to get a part-time job to support himself during school. I guess he doesn’t want him getting too comfortable. I don’t peg Jackson as the type to slide by and take the easy route, but I respect that his father wants him to have a good work ethic. It’s late when I finally decide to leave, satisfied that everyone is on-board and happy with the decision. At the door, Jackson gives me a tight, quick hug, barely giving me a chance to reciprocate, while Darius just punches my shoulder with a smile.
I head back to the apartment, buzzing. My skin feels like there’s an electrical current running through it. Energy and excitement pulses through me. My mind is a swirling jumble of thoughts.
What now? What’s next for me?
Whitney.
Her name drifts through my mind like a siren calling out to the sea. I can’t wait to see her face when I tell her about all of this. I owe everything to her. Everything good in my life comes back to her.
My wife.
By the time I get back to the apartment, I feel like I’m high. I’ve got a woman who I love and a life that is finally starting to feel like it’s mine again. I turn my key into the lock and let myself into the apartment, which is silent. I glance around for a sign that Whitney is home, finding nothing. As I cross to the kitchen, my eyes catch on a stack of papers sitting on the counter.
Glancing down at them, I blink. Once, twice. My mind whirs and slows, as if unable to accept what I’m seeing.
Petition for dissolution of marriage.
No.
This can’t be right.
There must be some mistake. Whitney wouldn’t do this. Even if she decided that things were moving too quickly or that she didn’t want to see me anymore, she wouldn’t do it like this. She’d talk to me. She’d tell me.
“She didn’t want to be here for it.”
My head snaps to the couch, where Caroline sits with a pitying frown on her face, her hands pulled together in her lap. My gaze flickers back down to the divorce papers, disbelief filling every part of me.
“Where is she? Whitney!”
“She’s not here. She thought it was better this way,” Caroline says.
I shake my head. “I don’t believe you. Whitney wouldn’t do that.”
“I’m so sorry, Liam. I really thought you two might make it work, but she’s more like me than she wants to admit. She wanted me to give you this and to tell you that she’s sorry she can’t say it back.”
Caroline holds out her palm, and when I see what she’s holding, my hand comes up to my chest, as if bracing for a physical blow. The excitement that was just rushing through me is nowhere to be found. Instead, all I can feel is an emptiness that threatens to swallow me whole.
Whitney’s wedding ring. She took it off.
This isn’t happening. This isn’t real.
My mind flashes back to that night in the kitchen, the feeling of her hand in mine as I slid the ring back over her finger.
“Promise you’ll never take it off again.”
“I promise.”
My heart seems to go cold. Numb.
Hollow.
Of course she doesn’t want to be with me. It’s taken me months, months, just to figure my shit out. I’ve been moping around here with no direction, no clue what I wanted. From her, from myself. It was stupid of me to think that someone would rely on me. She’s got her salon. That’s what she wanted all along from this arrangement, and now that I’ve sorted everything with Jackson, I suppose I have, too. Except not really. Because all I want now is to hold my wife in my arms one last time. I’ll beg if I have to. Get down on my knees and plead with her not to leave me. To let me be a better man for her.
What kind of woman wants a husband like me? I don’t know why I thought…
My hands tremble as I stare down at the reality in front of me. The knowledge that my marriage is over. That this is what Whitney wants. Nausea churns deep in my gut and for a moment, and I’m sure that I’m going to throw up. Instead, I take a deep breath and force myself to glance around at the apartment. At my home.
Not my home.
Not anymore.
I can feel it. The shutting down. My teeth clamp shut, a shudder running through me. Blinking back tears that threaten to break through the surface, I squeeze my hands into fists. My body feels all wrong. Out of place.
“I’ll give you a minute,” Caroline says before placing the ring into my shaking hand and slipping down the hallway.
I can’t let myself stay in this apartment for a second longer. I glance at the stack of papers again, my chest cracking open, my heart nothing but an empty shell. Forcing my hands to move, I pick up the pen, flip to the final page, and close my eyes. The image of our names side-by-side on that damned piece of paper burns through me like a bolt of lightning. The weight of the world pressing down on me, I have no choice but to click the pen, take a deep breath, and sign my name on the dotted line.