All In

21. Chapter 21

Chapter twenty-one

Sam

A s I shut the door behind me, the tension builds in the air, and I suck in a deep breath. Plus, I don’t want this confrontation to wake up Mikey.

I glance at the ring again, wanting to snatch it off the bed. Erica looks so desperate right now, I’m not sure she wouldn’t do something with it. Like flush it. I turn to face her. “Erica, let me explain—” She immediately starts reading from the letter in her hand.

“— I was with Cara for a whole year, and she never made me feel what I felt for you.” She lays it on the pile, searching for another one. “Who in the heck is Cara?” she asks, head down, hysterically flipping through papers and envelopes.

The fact that we never once talked about Cara is proof of how little we truly know about each other. And how we never should have gotten married in the first place.

“Erica please, let’s—”

“A-ha!” She finds the one she was looking for. “Here it is! This one is great, it says, or you say, ‘ All I know is this, if you were my wife, I would want you to be just…you. There’s no one better.’ ” She tosses the letter and starts frantically searching for another one.

With no defense here, I run my hand down my face in frustration. I’m at a loss for words, unsure of what to say or do .

“I got it!” She grabs the one she was searching for and shakes it as she stands to face me. “This one is my personal favorite. Especially since you wrote it just six hours ago.”

I step toward her to grab the email, and she yanks her arm away, moving from me as she does. The crunch of Maria’s letters coming from underneath her feet.

She gives me a piercing glare, then reads. “It says, although, you already know this, ‘Do you think about what could have been? Or is it just me?’ ” She peers at me with furrowed brows and eyes brimming with tears. “And of course, let’s not skip her reply. Let’s see what she says in return, shall we? But again, you already know.” The snarky side of her personality is coming out in full force. “She says, ‘I do. I think about it every day.’ ”

“We aren’t married anymore, Erica. What I wrote in an email hours ago is none of your business.” I know it’s a weak defense. I know. But I need to say something. Anything.

She takes two determined steps towards me. We are face to face now. Her chest is heaving from anger. “What about the others, Sam? Hm?” She cocks her head to the side. “The emails you wrote to her while we were married? What about those?”

I can’t look her in the eye because she’s right. With a heavy heart, I turn my head up to the ceiling and release a long, weary breath.

She shakes her head in disbelief, crinkles the email up, and heaves it onto the bed. It lands right next to the black velvet box. Erica whips the ring box off of the gray comforter and grabs my wrist, shoving it into my hand. “Here, take it. This shouldn’t be tucked away in a shoebox under a bed. Go give this to the love of your life. I’m sure she thinks about you every day!!”

With that, she steps around me, grabs the doorknob, and yanks the door open as it slams against the wall. She storms out of the room and starts making her way into the kitchen. I open the box, and the ring is staring back at me. Relief floods my body.

It’s still here .

I couldn’t part with it. The ring I went into debt for, just because of how Maria looked at it that day in the mall. The one I never had the chance to give her.

The box snaps shut as I close it. Setting the ring box down on the bed with a groan, I take a second to scan the floor. Sixteen years of letters and emails litter the carpet. Taking a brief moment to regain my composure, I am immediately greeted by the sound of glasses clashing and the pouring of liquid.

Marching into the kitchen. I’m ready to deal with this once and for all. Not just the letters and Maria, but Erica's drinking. Her love of the bottle ended our marriage. Yes, I shouldn’t have been communicating with Maria. That’s on me. But even if Maria wasn’t in the picture, I know for a fact that our marriage would have ended. Erica always chose booze over Mikey and me.

I stand there and watch her fill a rocks glass with whiskey, a healthy four finger pour, and down it like it’s water. She unscrews the cap of the whiskey and before she has a second to pour, I grab the glass.

“You are not having any more to drink. We need to talk about this.” Her large purse sits open next to the bottle. Which means she brought this with her. Since I don’t trust her, I never keep alcohol in the house.

“Okay, great,” she slaps her hands down on the small kitchen island. “Let’s talk about it. Who in the heck is Cara?” Her eyes are wide and wild, and her hands are shaking.

This is what she wants to begin with? This woman will always confuse me.

“I dated Cara off and on after Maria and I broke up.” She bobs her head, taking in the information she is hearing for the first time.

“Why didn’t you tell me about her?”

“Seriously, Erica? This is about Cara? After what you found, you want to talk about a relationship that didn’t pan out?”

She leans over the counter and looks me square in the eye. The closer she gets, the more I can smell the whiskey on her breath. “I want to talk about everything,” she says through gritted teeth. She pulls back. “Did you love her?”

“Who? Cara?” She nods. I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to soothe the headache I can feel coming on. “On some level, yeah, I guess I did. ”

“But not as much as you loved Maria.” She raises an eyebrow.

“No. Not as much as Maria.”

We stand on either side of the island, squaring off, neither one of us talking. I take her in. The rise and fall of her chest, her dilated pupils, her thinner frame, and her pale skin. She is a far cry from the woman that captivated me that day in the brewery. The one who made me want to throw caution to the wind and make an impulsive life choice that I am now deeply regretting.

“Did you love me as much as you loved Maria?” There it is, the million-dollar question. The words come out soft, as if it pained her to ask it. More than likely, it did. Her years’ worth of insecurities about Maria bubble to the surface with that question.

I lower my head and shake it in disbelief because if I give her the answer she is searching for, she won’t like it. So, I deflect. “How did you know that box was under the bed?”

She throws her hands up in the air. “That’s the answer to my question? Come on, Sam.” I don’t say anything in reply.

She rounds the island and marches into the living room. I follow her, the smell of alcohol lingering in her wake. She turns to face me, hands on her hips. “Fine. I saw you putting papers in it a few months back. I decided to leave it alone. Give you your privacy since we aren’t married anymore.

“But something ate away at me. My gut was telling me I should look. So once I got here tonight, I got up enough nerve and, well … let’s just say I was blown away.” She pauses. “You always told me that she was your first love. Which is fine. But you didn’t tell me you proposed.”

“I didn’t. She broke up with me the night I had planned on asking. And why does this matter now, Erica?”

She purses her lips into a fine line, and her whole body is tight and wound up. “Why does it matter?” She pauses for a quick second. “Because I still love you, Sam, and you know who didn’t break up with you? ME! I didn’t break up with you,” she jabs her finger into her chest. “I married you!!!” she screams.

“Shhh, you are going to wake Mikey!” I implore in a soft whisper .

She points to the hallway, ignoring my plea about our kid. “Those letters and emails, Sam. Those were between two people who are in love. Look, I get the ones that were from when you dated and before we met, but what hurts is that you kept them the whole time we were married. Why? Why keep them?”

I’m trying hard to think straight. Do I tell her? I owe it to her, the mother of my child, the woman I once shared a life with, to be honest with her.

“I kept them because Maria was a huge part of my life for a very long time. I would have married her if she hadn’t ended things. My formative years will forever be linked to her.”

“And you went and saw her when we went to your childhood home?” I look away. “You didn’t think I had a right to know that you went and met up with your ex. And not just any ex, the love-of-your-life ex?”

“You’re right, I should have told you.”

“Tell me the truth, Sam.” She gets closer to me, and she is in my face again. “Why did you meet her? Why did you write to her?”

I stand there and stare my ex-wife in the eye. Searching for the woman that I met and fell in lust with. And I realize that she is gone. Long gone. I lost her a long time ago to the bottle. I’ll answer her question. But I have a few of my own.

“Because I will always love her.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, her palm comes into contact with my cheek. Flesh smacking skin echoes through the air, tossing my head to the side, leaving a sting.

I let out a huff and rub my face. I look at her, and she raises her chin, proud of herself. And honestly, I deserved it.

“Yes, I love Maria. And I always will. But I need to ask you, who or what are you in love with, Erica? Because I know it wasn’t me. Or your son.” I decide right here and now that it’s time we have this conversation. She knows why we split. But we never had an open and honest discussion about it. Now is as good as a time as any.

She takes in a sharp intake of breath, obviously shocked that I have turned the tables on her. “Every single day.” I march back into the kitchen, grab the bottle of whiskey, and hold it out to her. “You choose this over Mikey and me. Every single day.”

“Don’t you dare turn this around on me!”

“This bottle”—I slam it down on the counter—“has nothing to do with Maria or the way that I feel about her. This is all you. Should I have been emailing Maria? No. It hurt you, and I’m sorry for that. But your drinking is something we should talk about.”

“Right now?”

“Why not?” I shrug. “You were awfully eager to dive into my shortcomings at”—I look at the clock on the wall, finally getting the time—“four a.m. Let’s talk about yours.”

She stands there staring at me, and tears form.

“What are you accusing me of?” she asks in a whisper.

“You’re a drunk, Erica. Or I believe the technical term is ‘alcoholic.’ And it’s affecting your relationship with Mikey and ended our marriage.” I stop to take in a breath, my hand on my hips as I gawk at the tan Berber carpet, trying to gather my thoughts. I meet her eyes, and tears are streaming down her face now. “You know what? Forget about our marriage and relationship, which is over obviously. What about Mikey? You never hold him.”

She scoffs and starts storming back to the spare bedroom. I’ve hit a nerve. I’m hot on her trail, talking to her back as she walks. “When it’s your time, you don’t do anything for him!” I tick accusations off on my fingers. “You never bathe him, never spend time with him, never put him to bed, never eat with him, play with him—”

“ENOUGH!” she screams as she turns in my direction, pointing at me. “How dare you accuse me of not loving my son! I love Mikey!!”

“Do you? Because other than giving birth, how have you been a mother to him? I am basically a single father, Erica. And you know what? I love it. Because I love him!”

She walks over to the dresser, stepping on the letters, and grabs her jeans. With anger, she shoves her legs into the pants. “Great!” I throw my hands up in the air. “Where are you going? We need to talk about this and figure this out. ”

She’s now dressed with her coat on and running out of the bedroom. I follow her and watch her grab her purse and keys. I make a desperate attempt to snatch the keys from her hand, but she quickly evades my grasp. There is no way I am letting her drive because I have no clue how much she has drunk tonight. “Give me the keys, Erica!”

“Geez, Sam! I’m not going to drive! Give me some credit, will you? I’m going for a walk to … I don’t know … cool down. Also to get away from you!”

“And go drink, no doubt,” I accuse. And I mean every word of what I’ve said to her tonight. She needs to know how her behavior is affecting us.

After making her way to the door, she grabs the handle, and before she leaves, she looks back at me. “You know what, Sam, you’re free. Go be with Maria. Or Cara. It doesn’t matter anymore. Don’t wait up for me.”

“HAVE I EVER?!” I scream as she storms out. I watch her walk out into the windy night, and then I slam the door. My chest is rising and falling rapidly as I anxiously expect the sound of Mikey’s cries. Thank goodness my son can sleep through anything because our screams have been replaced with nothing but the hum of the furnace.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the whiskey resting on the counter. Walking over to the bottle, I yank it off the sleek corian surface, the glass cool to the touch. I drag my tired legs over to the sink and tip the bottle as the brown liquid waterfalls into the sink. I watch it spiral down the drain, a perfect reflection of the demise of my marriage.

After I empty the rest of the alcohol, I head back to the scene of the crime. I stand at the spare bedroom door’s threshold and look at the floor. It’s littered with Maria’s letters and emails. I get on my hands and knees and put the letters away. I have a feeling she sat here and read every single one of them. A heavy wave of guilt crashes over me.

I’m sure these recent emails hurt her. But I can’t explain this pull when it comes to Maria. I need her in my life, even if it’s only via an email address and as friends. Once I have them tucked away back in the Nike shoe box, I sit on the floor with my back resting up against the bed. I reach behind my head and feel for the softness of the black velvet box. It hits my fingertips so I pull it around. I open it, and the diamond stares back at me.

It slowly sinks in that this is the only ring I have ever bought for a woman. My ex-wife didn’t wear one. She never wanted to. As I look at the orange box sitting on the floor before me, I realize that its contents, along with this ring, held a greater importance in my life than Erica ever did.

I sit the ring back where it belongs. In the box, where I keep Maria.

The woman I will always love.