18. Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
Sam
T rying not to make a sound, I tiptoe into the house, hoping not to wake my mom or Erica. Also, secretly hoping Erica isn’t awake because I’m not sure I can look her in the eye right now.
Ever since Maria and I spent the afternoon together, my mind has been in a haze, unable to focus on anything else. I shouldn’t have met her. Mom thought it would give me closure. It didn’t. I got no answers as to why she left me in the shed, and Maria didn’t offer any. And I didn’t ask.
Instead, it opened a part of my heart that I thought I had closed with Erica. It wasn’t until I held her daughter that I almost lost it. But then I remembered the promise I made to myself … to never cry over Maria again.
Brielle’s wails began as soon as Maria stepped away, as if she sensed that her mom was gone. The loud cries stabbed my heart. I made a pathetic effort to console her, of course, but it didn’t work. So, I made the last-minute decision to pick her up.
My nerves were in overdrive as I reached into that obnoxious stroller thing. With gentle hands, I lifted her to my chest, adjusting her blanket along the way. Something about cradling her, knowing she was half Maria’s and not mine … not ours . The realization did a number on me. Brielle is gorgeous and everything I pictured when I would think about Maria and me starting a family. A girl that would look just like her and a boy who would look just like me .
Maria took longer than I thought, and before I knew it, Brielle was asleep in my arms. I rocked her and hummed a lullaby my mom would sing to me. She was out like a light.
Gotta say I was quite proud of myself.
I should have laid her back in her stroller, but I didn’t. I continued to stare at her, taking in her delicate features, watching her sleep without a care in the world. Her eyes fluttered as she slept. But then reality came crashing down around me. I can’t get attached to this baby.
She isn’t mine.
Maria walked out of the bathroom just then, with bloodshot eyes, and I knew she had been crying. I’m pretty positive she saw me with Brielle, and it affected her like it did me. We stood there, time standing still as we exchanged a silent, lingering stare. The unspoken words and feelings hanging in the air.
Once we parted ways—and awkwardly, at that—I called Ricky, and I hung out at his place until right now. He didn’t ask questions. He’s known me long enough to recognize that something was off. I called Erica and told her that Ricky and I were going to hang, and she understood. Apparently, she and my mom were having a great time, which made me happy since that was the focus of this entire trip.
Somewhere, more than likely this afternoon, my focus changed.
On light feet, I walk into my old bedroom, and lying asleep on my childhood bed is my wife. She looks so peaceful and gorgeous. Her clothes are crumbled up on the floor. Yet there is one thing that stands out in the room.
The smell of alcohol.
Knowing my mom, she went to bed right after she and Erica got home. She is not a night owl but will be awake at the butt crack of dawn tomorrow. So, this makes me wonder what Erica did, or where she went, after my mom went to bed.
After brushing my teeth and stripping down to my boxers, I pull back the covers, but then something catches my eye. Erica’s water bottle resting on the nightstand, half full. Or half empty, depending on how you want to look at it. I need to know if my suspicions about what she was drinking when we arrived are valid.
Other than Erica’s soft snores, the room is eerily quiet, as I grapple with my decision. I won’t be able to sleep until I'm sure. While making my way around the bed, I curse under my breath as my toe meets the unyielding bed frame.
Dang it!
I’ve stubbed my toe, and the sharp sting is forcing me to clench my teeth. The motion must have stirred the bed because Erica moans and turns onto her side. Motionless, I stop, my body tense, as I pray for her to stop moving and fall back asleep. After a few moments, she does, and I cautiously move forward and reach her side of the bed.
I grab the bottle and unscrew the top, smelling it, then taking a quick sip.
Vodka . I knew it.
While placing it back, I consider discarding it. But then she would know that I discovered it, and I need to proceed with caution. Our marriage may not be what it was in the beginning, but I care deeply for her, and I want her to know that I am on her side and want to help.
I tip-toe over to my side of the bed and get in, the mattress sinking in with my weight as I turn to face my wife. The sudden movement jolts her awake, and she slowly opens her eyes. “Hey,” she whispers, “when did you get in?” As she leans in closer, her warm breath skates against my skin before I plant a gentle kiss on her lips. As I breathe in, I detect the unmistakable odor of alcohol.
“Just now. Did you and Mom have fun?” I ask, trying not to let my disgust and disappointment show.
She nods. “We did. After she went to bed, I got a cab and went to Dexter’s to hang out. That place is great.”
I stare into my wife’s eyes, and they are glassy and lacking focus. Drunk eyes. Sad to say, I have seen them in her more and more lately.
“Hey, I forgot to ask you. Am I the first girl you’ve ever had in this bed?” She slurs her words and shimmies her body to get closer to me.
I bark out a laugh. “Why are you asking me that? ”
She shrugs her bare shoulder. “Oh, I don’t know. Just wondering if Maria was ever in here.”
“Of course, Maria has been in my childhood bedroom.”
She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. Has she ever shared this bed with you?” she asks as she bites her lower lip, waiting for my answer. An answer I will not give her tonight and risk a fight.
“It doesn’t matter, sweetie. That’s my past.” I need to say it out loud to convince myself more than her. “It’s late. Go back to sleep.”
I move my hand to her face, caressing her soft cheek. I could always count on this woman to go above and beyond for me. Our marriage is happy, and I’m content. But none of that means it’s working. Something has changed along the way. And I know what it is.
Her drinking.
I look into her eyes and search for a glimpse of what I see and feel when I look at Maria. But it’s not there. I know that after I moved to Atlanta and tried to move on, I said I was fine. But after spending time with Maria today, I know the truth of the matter.
It’s like Erica is a placeholder. I realize that sounds harsher than it should. I love Erica in my own way … but she isn’t Maria.
Being with Maria today, one thing became glaringly clear: I will always love her. And I shouldn’t. I know that. It’s not right. I mean, our attraction should have faded over time. So then why does it feel more powerful?
And look, I am a good guy. I may love Maria, but I would never act on it. Not when I’m going to bed every night with Erica and Maria is cranking out kids with Nate.
But I can’t let her go. So if that means friendly correspondence back and forth, like before, then so be it. Erica drifts back off to sleep as I play this over in my head. With this new choice, I can’t help but feel a rush of excitement and a surge of energy.
So I march back down to my mom’s study and start the computer up. And before I know it, my fingers are flying over the keys, talking to Maria again.