Chapter 35
Rachel
In all of my rage, I don’t go very far.
I’ve only been driving for five minutes before I pull over and park to steady myself.
I can’t pretend it’s safe for me to be driving in this state. And where would I go, anyway? I won’t lie to myself and say I can drive to Gander and book a hotel room, because I’m not going to leave Cayce and Corey behind like that without giving them an explanation.
They deserve better from me.
The heat of humiliation creeps up my neck and into my cheeks. Karan’s entire family likely knows what happened, if they didn’t see it outright. Who knows what they’re going to think of me when I go crawling back to that house?
Whatever. It’s not my problem anymore.
But, it kind of is. I actually give a fuck about these people. Fourteen years entrenched in Karan’s life have allowed me to build unshakable bonds with his family.
Stop it, Rachel.
If I’m to survive the next 24 hours, I can’t start thinking about how much I love Karan’s family. And, for that matter, I can’t keep thinking about how much I still love Karan.
Oh, God.
I have no idea how long it takes before the nausea and dizziness pass. An hour, maybe? Two? However much time has passed, I’m nowhere close to being in good shape, but at least I’m able to drive.
I’m going to go back to that cabin. I’m going to have a talk with my boys; they don’t need to be privy to all the details, but they do need to understand that I love them so, so much. And that we’re going to see each other at home. Mommy’s only going away for a few days.
Then, I can camp out in Gander in the first vacant hotel room I find until our flight back home.
I keep running that plan over and over in my head when I park in Jocelyne’s driveway and exit the car.
But I pause before I head to the door. I still need to think of something to say to the adults in the room.
Maybe that I’m sorry, and that I need some space, and that I wish them all a happy new year.
Yeah. That’ll work.
My nerves are frayed by the time I make it to the door and come inside. A quick scan of the main room shows me that everyone except Karan and the twins are staring back at me.
Did he already leave? Did he take his own rental car and chase after me with the boys in tow?
No. He would have seen me parked on the side of the road. Or we would have crossed each other if he left in the last five minutes.
My gaze flits to Martine, who’s busying herself by wiping down the counters.
“Where are Cayce and Corey?” I ask, doing my best to level my tone and appear normal.
As if any of this is normal.
“Oh, sweetie, are you okay?” she asks, not answering my question.
Jocelyne and Anjali both walk up to me.
“We were worried about you,” Anjali purrs. “You know this is still a safe space for you, no matter what’s going on, right?”
“Thank you,” I quickly reply to address Anjali before immediately turning back to Martine. “My boys?”
“Oh, those boys!” Martine exclaims. “I love them more than the world, but they can certainly be a handful sometimes, won’t you agree?”
I narrow my eyes and put myself on guard. “What happened?”
“Oh, nothing too alarming, don’t you worry yourself about that, sweetie.” Martine waves me off and keeps wiping the counter down. “In fact, I’m pretty proud of myself for how I handled that.”
“Martine, where are my sons?”
“Cayce is in Jocelyne’s room, and Corey is in mine.” Martine smiles up at me. “They just wouldn’t stop fighting over one particular toy, so I sent them to timeout separately.”
Every instinct in my body screams. The room starts spinning, so I grab hold of the counter to keep myself steady.
My poor boys. They must be going out of their minds right now with anxiety, and no one’s with them to help them co-regulate their big feelings.
I breathe through my nose and shut my eyes.
This isn’t the time to escalate things. Maybe Martine doesn’t know how deep their separation anxiety goes.
I just need to let her know that this type of punishment isn’t acceptable, especially if she’s going to be watching over them to help out Karan while I’m not there.
I place both hands against the counter and lean forward, then lift the corners of my mouth to appear as non-threatening as possible. The last thing I want is for Martine to take this personally or hurt her feelings.
“Hey, Martine,” I start, attempting to slow down my staccato heart. From its point of view, I’m fighting for my life. “So, isolating the boys like that really isn’t ideal.”
She stops wiping the counter and looks up. I’ve got her attention.
“They get really anxious when they’re alone, and how are they supposed to deal with their big feelings if they’re locked up alone like that?”
Martine’s brow furrows. “So how, exactly, would you have had me handle it?”
“Well, typically, I’ll see which of the two seems the most upset, and I’ll—”
“You know,” Martine interrupts, her voice increasing in pitch, “here I was, really proud of myself for figuring this out on my own and handling it without a tantrum.”
She throws her rag in the sink and crosses her arms, continuing:
“I really don’t appreciate you coming here and attacking me like that.”
Thump-thump.
Ice fills my veins. I can hardly feel Jocelyne’s comforting hand on my arm. But I can’t lose control of this conversation.
I can’t lose control of myself.
I. Am. Not. Her.
Not my mother.
“Martine, I’m not attacking you.” Despite the turmoil storming within me, the words come out relatively calm. “I only want to let you know how we typically handle this with the twins so that you’re better equipped next time.”
“It’s always gotta be done your way, right?” Martine laughs without humour.
“Okay…”
Deep breath. Steady. Focus.
“I can see that I might have come at this the wrong way, and that you’re feeling attacked. I’m sorry, Martine.”
I’m not sorry, but I have to defuse this, not throw more fuel on the fire.
“So I’d love to do better next time. If there’s something I want to address with you about my sons, what would be a better way for me to approach it without hurting your feelings?”
“You could have just told me, ‘wow, good job, Martine, you really handled that well.’ That would have been just fine.”
“But…” I can feel the control slipping through my fingers, pressure building all around my skull and across my limbs. “That’s not constructive criticism. I’m asking, how do you want me to give you constructive criticism, Martine?”
“You don’t!”
“I don’t?” My jaw trembles. “So, you can behave however you want with my sons, and I’m supposed to say nothing? To just let it happen?”
“Rachel,” Jocelyne coos, her grip on my arm becoming tighter. “Let it go.”
“Let it go?” I forcefully pull away from Jocelyne’s grasp and turn to Martine. “Martine, if I can’t even have a conversation with you, if I can’t…”
Black spots take over my vision. The pressure gets worse. I might as well be trapped in a pressure cooker; there’s no air, nowhere for all the rage to simmer out.
If I don’t get out now, it’s going to boil over.
“You know what, it’s time for me and the twins to go.”
I turn around and scan the room for Cayce and Corey’s things, which are strewn all over the place. Toy trucks, dinosaurs, and pieces of costumes litter the cabin.
I’m doing this. I’m actually doing this. I’m taking the boys and leaving.
Still shaking, I stride towards the toys and start picking them up one by one.
“Rachel, what are you doing?” Martine stammers as she trails behind me. “You’re not actually leaving with them, are you?”
No one else says a word.
No one else except her gets in my space.
My already cramped, under-pressure space.
“Leave me alone, please,” I beg Martine, keeping my eyes on the items I’m trying to pick up.
My mind is going miles an hour, thinking of everything I need to grab.
Fuck, the boys are going to be so disappointed. I’m going to break their hearts.
But I’m not leaving them here with her.
“Don’t you think you’re being a little bit overdramatic here?” Martine continues, getting closer than she ought to, right on my heels, following my every step. “Just wait a minute, Rachel. Don’t leave like this.”
I approach a wall and pick up Cayce’s favourite toy—a big stegosaurus.
“Leave me alone,” I repeat, and it’s all I can do to keep the pressure contained.
“Rachel. Seriously.” Martine grabs my arm. “Just wait a min—”
At the contact of my skin, the lid blows over.
Every single shred of emotion stored in my body over the last hours, days—years—come ripping out of my bones—
I can’t control it—
LEAVE
ME
THE
FUCK
ALONE
DON’T
FUCKING
TOUCH
ME
Throat raw, hands sore—
Fuck, I must have screamed that out loud—
What did I do with my hands? What’s happening? How destructive is the fallout?
A flash across my mind—the wall. I slapped the wall, over and over, screaming at her not to touch me, and now she’s staring back at me like a deer in headlights, and everyone’s staring at me—
Oh God, oh God, no, no, no…
I bite the inside of my cheek, hard enough to taste iron, but it’s still not enough to ground me here, to give me back control, and so I crumble into pieces, sobs taking over the entirety of me.
“You’re fucking insane,” Martine utters, but the indignation barely makes a dent in the storm of emotions that’s driving me.
I can’t move, I can hardly breathe, and—
“You,” a deep, booming voice echoes from above, “do not get to talk to my wife like that.”
Karan.