Chapter 23 #2
Lincoln nods and steps back, his lips pressed between his teeth, leaning against the doorway to give me space to pass.
I don’t say anything as I move toward him, fully expecting him to speak first.
“Sorry I blew up your phone,” he finally says.
This makes me pause. Shrugging my shoulder, I hold the bag with both hands in front of me by the strap as it hangs down in front of my knees.
“Why did you do it, Lincoln?”
The question just hangs there for a while. Shaking his head slowly, his lips still folded tightly together, his voice remains hoarse. “I don’t know. I was horny.”
“You were horny,” I say, as if this is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. But now that I know I’ll probably never see him again, I might as well get everything out into the open.
“I was stupid. I gave into temptation. You were right about everything, and I don’t deserve you, and I’m not going to pretend that I do. I’m not going to sit here and cry for forgiveness because I know that you’re not going to forgive me. I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I… I don’t deserve it.”
He bites his bottom lip, his gaze drifting somewhere above my head before his watery eyes settle back on me. Even though he’s pressed against the doorway, I notice his left leg shaking, just slightly, like his whole body is anxious and trying not to fall apart.
Swallowing, he opens his mouth and hesitates before saying anything. “I thought that… I never imagined that we’d be here… and it’s all my fault.”
“Well I hope she was worth it. You guys can be together now,” I say, knowing full well I’m fishing.
“I don’t want her.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“I haven’t talked to her since that day.”
“Has she tried to contact you?” I ask.
He nods. He looks like he has nothing left to lose, like he’s hanging on a frayed string that he’s been cutting into. So I want to quell every single piece of my curiosity just for the sake of closure.
“If I ask you… things… would you be honest with me?”
“I’ll tell you everything you need to know. Everything you want to know.”
“Why didn’t you do that before?” I question.
“Cuz I was scared that I would lose you,” he chuckles sarcastically. “A lot of good that did, right?”
His voice is so tired. Might as well bite the dog’s ass. Dropping the bag on the carpet at the top of the stairs, I stand on the other side of the threshold of the door, my right side up against the frame while he leans on his left, facing me.
His arms are folded around himself now, hugging his own body, holding himself together like he’s trying to self-soothe.
Blinking once, I look up at him slowly, noticing how small he looks despite how tall he is.
“When was the first time that you slept with Sarah?”
He licks his lips, tears gathering in his eyes again. Lincoln swallows hard, staring down at the carpet at his feet, anywhere but at me. But then he forces himself to look up, meeting my eyes.
Maybe he figures he owes me that much.
“Th-the day after I dropped her at her apartment,” he says, his voice cracking slightly under the strain of simply speaking.
“You mean…” I start, emotions threatening to spill over once more, wounds that barely begun to coagulate. I take a deep breath, my body threatening to break into a quaking mess. “The day that she called you to pick her up from her ex?”
“Yeah, the day after that,” he answers quietly.
I scoff, almost laughing to myself. “The day…”
Breathe.
Breathe.
“…the day after you made love to me… right after that day when you went back into work?”
Lincoln’s whole body shivers. “Uh… the day after she wasn’t feeling good, so I took the shuttle with her to her apartment… and I… um—” he licks his lips, trying to stave off tears. “She told me how she felt about me.”
“What do you mean how she felt about you?”
“She said she had feelings for me. That she touched herself to me.”
My heart shatters into a million pieces all over again. I don’t want to be affected by this, but my body is still wounded and hurting, and every word he speaks is another betrayal.
“I… I was… I told her I did too.”
“You told her that you touched yourself to thoughts of her too?” I ask, a lump in my throat.
“Yeah,” he says, meeting my eyes momentarily before looking back down at the ground. A tear from each eye spills down his face before he breathes in, trying to steel himself, using his forearm to wipe them away.
“She was saying how… we shouldn’t… pass work… um…”
“-Was that the first time?” I cut in.
“That was the first time we had sex. But the first time I kissed her was before that.”
I sway, almost fainting. “That night you came home—” my breath comes out hoarse. “When you came home really late and you said Tom dropped you home… was it really Tom that was with you?”
“Yes. But I was late because… I was with Sarah.”
“Why.”
“We had a little bit to drink and… she made out with me. I made out… I made out with her,” his voice breaks, his face crumples, his head bowing to the ground.
Lincoln sobs quietly, looking like someone just kicked him in the stomach.
“So you stood there and lied to me.”
“I didn’t want to hurt you. It didn’t mean anything and it was an accident, so I didn’t want to… I didn’t think it was… I… I didn’t want to blow up our marriage because of something stupid.”
“If I had done that with a co-worker who you knew liked me, would you have wanted me to tell you?” I challenge him.
“I mean… it’s not something I want to know, but yes, I would…” he chokes, swallowing loudly. “I would want you to be honest with me.”
Tears spill from his eyes as they land on me.
“But you thought that I’m not owed that courtesy, right?” I tremble.
“You are owed so much more.”
“Clearly not, Lincoln. Do you love her?”
It makes me feel a lot better when he instantly shakes his head and vehemently says, “No. For everything that happened, I can say that with confidence and with truth. I do not love her. I honestly don’t even like her at this point.”
“Give it time. You’ll be all right,” I say, gathering myself and regaining my composure before taking my luggage.
At the top of the stairs, I watch him swallow hard before he finally speaks again. His voice is quieter than before, almost hollow.
“Gabby… I wish you the best in life. I really do. And I’m sorry, even though I know my apology doesn’t mean anything. You’re out of my league. You always were. I hope you’ll find happiness, and I hope what I did to you doesn’t… keep you from it in the future.”
The words sting, not because they’re cruel, but because they’re true in the worst way. He steps aside so I can pass, and I make my way slowly down the stairs, dragging my luggage as the wheels thump against each step. He follows behind me like a shadow.
At the bottom, when he opens the front door for me, his hand brushes the small of my back. The touch is light, barely anything, but he jerks his hand away immediately, almost like it’s blasphemy to lay a finger on me.
“I know this is a lot to ask but… and if you don’t want to you don’t have to.” His voice breaks, barely holding itself together. “But could… can I hug you one last time?”
The look on his face is devastating. Sadness, regret, longing: every emotion I wish I could unsee. And God help me, everything in me wants to give him that hug. For him. And for me. I want to hold him. I want to feel him around me again, even for one second.
But that would destroy me.
I plaster a sad smile on my face, something soft to ease the blow, something that makes him think I might say yes.
“No,” I breathe out.
Then I turn on my heels before I can change my mind.
Walking toward the rental car, I can see from my periphery the way his head drops, his shoulders sinking under the weight of everything he’s done. The porch light behind him spills out onto the sidewalk, casting him in a pale glow while the rest of the world is darkness.
Keep it together.
Do not cry in front of him.
Don’t do it.
I open the door, sit down, shut myself inside, and start the engine. My throat is burning. I force a smile, one that cracks immediately, then put the car in drive.
In the rearview mirror, he’s still there.
Still standing in the threshold of our home.
Still in the light.
Still crumpled.
Still despondent.
My face does the same.
My grip tightens on the steering wheel until my knuckles ache, and the moment the car rolls forward, the first shrieked sob tears out of me.
I can’t ever go back there.
I can’t.
-??-