Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
Alex
“Baby, you’re bleeding…”
And then I wake up. My room is still dark, but morning feels close.
I flip over the phone that I’ve started keeping on again, and check the time. 5:17. Delta readjusts in the bed at the disturbance.
I’m up and thinking about her, half wishing I could go back to the dream just to see her again.
I open the messages app and reread some of the last text messages she sent me.
Em
Have I told you you’re the best husband lately? Because you are.
My stomach rolls, but I can’t stop myself from going to the photos app because, apparently, I’m choosing to hurt myself this morning.
There aren’t many of her, but I have a few.
The first one is her standing at our cove.
It’s just the view of her from behind, with her arms spread out as the sun rises.
The second is her lying on the couch with Delta. There’s one of us at the football game. And then the only other photo is from our wedding day.
I forgot how fucking gorgeous she is. That’s not true, I didn’t forget, I just try hard as fuck not to remember.
I try not to think about her long legs. I try not to remember her first time.
I try not to fantasize about her tight cunt that had only ever been mine.
Try not to fantasize about that fucking mouth.
No.
I try to push it all away because letting her go was the right thing. I still think that even as my whole body yearns for her.
Still holding my phone, I hover over her contact for a long time. Wondering what would happen if I just…call. Would she send me to voicemail? Decline?
No, I won’t call. As I set my phone down, my thumb accidentally bumps the call button. Fuck!
It’s already ringing. Should I hang up? Should I see if she’ll answer? Why would she?
“Hello?” Her voice is enough to bring me to tears. It’s soft and doesn’t hold any anger or venom like the last time she spoke to me. “Alex?” Shit. Fuck, I don’t know what to say.
“I don’t know. Probably just an accident that he called. It’s still early on the West Coast,” she says to someone else in the background before sighing then hanging up.
Who was she talking to?
Early on the West Coast? She wasn’t on the West Coast?
Emma didn’t have…friends. Not on the West Coast, and definitely not on the East Coast… Oh fuck, Fuck. FUCK!!!
She was with him.
She was with him. I don’t know if jealousy is the prevailing emotion or betrayal, which is rich coming from me, I know. I want to call back. I want to ask if she’s happy now. Or happier? Had she been happy with me at all?
I wait an hour before finally texting.
A
Sorry about the pocket dial this morning. Didn’t mean to wake you if I did.
Em
I was up. I’ve been meaning to call anyway.
She had?
My divorce lawyer needs a copy of the prenup.
Visceral. Pain.
A
Sure, I’ll email you a copy.
I don’t need anything for a settlement, just so you know. It should be entirely painless. Just sign the papers type of thing.
Entirely painless? For who?
Whatever you want, it’s yours. Even the house in Spearhead.
The bubble of three dots appears before disappearing again. I wait, hoping. Is there anything I could offer her that would bring her back my way?
No. Thank you, though.
Take care.
Take care? She may as well have slapped me in the face.
I can feel the doom spiral starting up, but instead of giving in, I heave my ass out of bed. It feels like I’m actually bleeding out as I drag myself to the kitchen.
“Woah, who pissed in your Cheerios?” Matt asks, standing at the refrigerator door, looking at me. I flip him off.
“Why are you up so early?” I ask, and he stares back at me like I should get it.
“I don’t sleep.” He looks away, maybe in shame. Embarrassment too. Yeah, I for sure got that.
“Right.”
I start the coffee, and he pulls out yogurt.
Both of us sit, staring out the breakfast windows into the backyard when Connie walks in.
“Look at this, bright and early, no less!” Today is not the day for Chipper Charlie. “Hey, kiddo, I need you to drive yourself to therapy for the next couple of days.”
“Sure. What do you have going on?” Maybe he finally made a move on hot yoga teacher Linda, whisking her off for a romantic weekend. It tracked that the only person getting laid in this house is the 70-year-old.
“Just a little bit of surgery. Nothing major.” I practically spit out my coffee. Matt actually does choke.
“What the fuck, Dad?” Matt asks.
“What kind of surgery?” I ask.
“Just uh,” he pauses to stretch out his back, “just having part of my colon removed.”
“I thought we said–” Matt starts to protest.
“I’m not doing chemo again, so this is what I’m doing. End of discussion.” It’s hardly the end of discussion. Matt feels the same.
“No, Dad. We talked about this, and everyone on the team agrees that another round of chemo would be the most beneficial.” How many rounds had there been?
“Colon cancer?” I finally ask. Matt ignores me, Connie nods. How had I missed it? Connie hadn’t catered a wellness regimen to kick my ass; this was his pre-existing wellness regimen.
I haven’t seen him eat a cold cut, or have more than half a beer since I started staying here. His meals are consistently 70% greens. He’s active, walking, swimming, and lifting. He’s staving off father time as best he can.
“Does Brit know?” I ask. Matt nods reluctantly. That’s what they’d been talking about that day. It made sense. “Does everyone know?”
“Hardly,” Connie says. “It’s not something I need the world to know about, okay? I’m still here, I’m still kicking. Just, you know, I also have cancer. A very slow cancer.” I felt like I was just getting Connie back…
“What does Brit think about surgery? Silas? What’s his say?” I ask, trying to crowdsource Connie’s cancer treatment.
“My health isn’t a democracy, boys,” he reminds us. “This is what I’m doing. You can both drive me, and one of you can even hold my hair if you feel the need to do that, too.” He’s joking. He’s fucking joking about having a part of his colon removed.
“What a shitty morning this turned out to be,” Matt says as he scoots his stool back.
“That’s a little on the nose, son.” He’s still joking. Unbelievable.
When Matt shoves the yogurt back in the fridge, Connie stops him with a hand on his cheek. They share a moment, both with watery eyes. Then he pats him, and Matt leaves us.
“What’s got your panties in a bunch?” Constantine asks, taking his spot in the breakfast nook.
“Emma. And I just found out you have cancer?” Where to start?
“Have you heard from her?” He asks, hopefully bypassing any conversation revolving around him.
My nod is slow as I run a hand down my face. “She just needed a document for her divorce attorney.” The words taste sour against my tongue.
“Ouch.” Connie looks at his watch. “Before 7:00 A.M.?” He whistles.
“It’s not 7:00 in New York,” I say, staring into my coffee, wishing it was a black hole that would swallow me.
“Double ouch,” Connie says, shaking his head.
“Yup.”
Gina walks into the kitchen, huffing. She sets a tray of drinks and a bag of bagels down, and says, “I swear to god, if you two are in bad moods today, I can’t. I won’t, O thíos. Matthias just–”
I turn around fully, and she sees my face.
“Aww, fuck! What happened to you?” Gina asks, Connie laughs. He’s running a fucking halfway house for his own amusement.
“Don’t worry, won’t take it out on you, Gina.”
“Yeah, right. I swear, you men PMS harder than any woman. I’m taking a personal day, best of luck to you all.” She kisses her uncle on the cheek before walking out of the kitchen with her head held high in her five-inch heels.
On the day of Connie’s surgery, I wake up in a cold sweat. I can just feel it. It’s that gut feeling that precedes a shit storm. It’s only 5:00 A.M., but I get dressed and take Delta for a quick run.
The chilly October air pushes against my face as we lap the neighborhood for a second time. Every time I think the feeling has abated, we take a break, and the feeling comes flooding right back.
After four miles, we head home when Delta looks pissed I forgot his water bottle. Carl is already at his station for the day, and he gives me a sympathetic head nod.
“Big day for the big guy, huh?” He asks.
I don’t like the look on his face. He’s too worried.
“Yeah,” I say, continuing to walk towards the house.
“Alexander!” Carl calls after me. “Miss Britain is here. She just arrived ten minutes ago.” God love Carl.
“Thanks for the heads up,” I tell him.
When we crest the top of the inclined drive to see the fountain, as promised, Brit’s Range Rover is parked beside it. She’s talking animatedly, probably on the phone with the girls.
I knock on her window, and she startles.
She starts to roll it down, and the second she does, it hits me. The smell of her perfume.
She’s here.
I step back from the window as Jess leans forward from the passenger seat.
“Didn’t know you’d be here,” my tone is sharp, pissed that Brit would bring her here. For this.
“Matthias texted…” I raise an eyebrow. I had texted, too, but she left me on read. “And I felt like I needed to be here.” Brit, I understand, but Jess? Why the fuck did she need to come? Unless she wanted to?
“He’ll be happy to see you,” I say, letting her decide who I mean by that. The fact is they would both be happy. Connie and Matt. “Gonna get showered, make sure he doesn’t eat anything. You coming in?”
“Is Gina here?” Brit whispers.
“No.”
“Okay, then, yeah.” She steps out of the car, and Delta immediately goes to jump on her.
“Off,” I command, and when Brit turns, she reveals a bump.
“When were you going to tell me about that? Congrats.” She blushes, looking down at her stomach, then rubs it affectionately.
“Thanks. I guess I would have told you when you started talking to me again.” With Brit out on the driver’s side and Jess getting out on the passenger side, she whispers, “No drama with her today, okay?” Is she fucking kidding? I’m not the one…