A Tragic Heart (15 page)

“Come on, Taylor, let’s go!” he says in a forceful tone.

“No. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

I can tell she’s afraid, and so can he. He plays off of her fear. “Taylor, please. I don’t want to argue. I think we just need to talk—in private. We have to figure this out.”

I can tell he is getting angrier and I don’t like it.

“Not now, Mason. Right now, I don’t want to figure anything out with you.” She’s trying to keep strong.

“Taylor, God damn it! Stop making everything so damn difficult!” he says, pulling her by her already bruised wrist as she hollers in pain.

This isn’t Mason. I don’t know this person; but worse, I don’t like this person. I pull Mason away from her so this won’t go any further. “Mason, you need to go—now!” I say, sternly but calmly.

“Peyton, stay out of this. You have nothing to do with this!” he responds.

“I do when it’s my place! Look, I’m not trying to fight or anything. So, how about you leave now and I’ll let Taylor go when you’ve calmed down?” I say, trying not to come off as the bad guy in this situation.

Taylor gives me a please-don’t-make-me-go-back look and I feel horrible.

“Bring her by no later than seven!” Mason orders, giving her a disapproving look.

Thank God he has no idea what we spent the past night and the beginning of the day doing. I know now we’ll have to keep it a secret. I see Mason to the door and lock it behind him. I turn around to see Taylor standing there with her arms folded and tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Taylor, but you’re going to have to go back,” I say, with plenty of regret in my voice.

“Peyton, please don’t say that,” She says in an almost inaudible voice.

I walk up to her, place one hand on her waist, and touch her face. “Hey, we’ll just give it all some time to turn down a few notches,” I say, hoping that things will actually begin to calm down.

“But I don’t want Mason anymore. I know this may be wrong and sound way too fast, but I want you. I want to be with you. I thought last night was just me doing things out of anger, but when I realized that I didn’t regret it, I knew it was real. I know I made the mistake of moving too fast with Mason, but this time I know it’s right,” she says. “I acted on impulse in my relationship with Mason, but I acted on my heart with you. I took a chance with you and I think I hit the jackpot this time. So please, Peyton, don’t make me go back. You said yourself that you refuse to let anything happen to me.” Her eyes fill up with tears, and I feel her pain all too well.

“Listen, Taylor, we will be together. We just have to play it smart. It wouldn’t be right if you just leave Mason now and come to me. You said yourself that it would make both of us look awful. Take whatever it is you can take and then leave. If he hits you again, call the police, and then call me right after, and I will be there.” It’s hurting me to tell her this, but it’s the only way. “Mason’s not going to give up on you so easily right now, and it would make circumstances rougher if he’s angry with both of us at the same time.”

“So if we can’t be together now, when will we have our chance? Either way, Mason isn’t going to be happy with us,” she says, seeming bewildered.

She has a point. But knowing Mason, I knew waiting would be better.

“Right now, Mason is in a terrible place. He’s being forced to father a child with a girl he doesn’t love or care about, he’s two inches away from losing you, and he feels like his life is over. You leaving him for me isn’t going to make anything better; it will only make it worse. True, he’ll be angry when you do decide to leave. But hopefully by then he’ll already be coping with his life changes. So until then, no kissing, touching, or flirting with each other. We have to make it seem like we are just friends.”

This is going to be hard, but she agrees to the idea. We spend the last few hours together as if we aren’t going to see each other again. By six thirty, Taylor is on her way back to her place. I pray to God that she’ll be okay. I also hope that my plan will work out for the best. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

Taylor

I
walk into the apartment, and there he is. Mason Dale Taylor, the man I once loved, sitting in the living room, obviously waiting for me to come home. It is exactly six forty-five in the evening, so there should be no argument over the time I’m getting home. The only thing I can think of is my plan to be with Peyton; that is all that gives me the strength to deal with Mason. I stand across the room from him, trying not to get close. I am confused about what to say to him.

“What do you want to talk about?” is the only thing that comes to mind.

“Us,” is his reply. “I don’t like where we are going. And I know that most of it is my fault, but I want us to get better; like we were before.”

He has nerve, telling me that he wants us to “get better” when he’s the one who caused it all. He chose to cheat on me and he chose to hit me.
I didn’t do this
. At least that’s what I’m trying to convince myself. I build up the courage to sit next to him. “Mason, we can try, but we’re not going to get back like we were. I don’t think we ever can. Too much has happened. And with the circumstances that were created, our lives will never be the same.”

I can tell he doesn’t like what he’s hearing, but it’s the truth and it’s hard for me to lie about it.

“I know I screwed up in more ways than just one, but Taylor, if you could just give me a chance, I think we can make things really close to the way we were.”

He’s vulnerable, so I don’t want to shut him down. And he honestly looks sorry. This is a gigantic change from the Mason I just saw a few hours ago at Peyton’s. I’m starting to think that Mason is the bipolar one; not Peyton.

“Mason, you’re scaring me,” I have to confess. “One minute, you’re yelling and hitting me and the next you’re telling me that you are sorry and you want us back to the way we were—it’s like you don’t even know what you want anymore. And when you promise to make it up, you don’t even try. Mason, I don’t know you anymore.” I stand up and lift my shirt to show him the scars and bruises he left on me. “You see what you did, Mason? The Mason I knew—the Mason I married—would never do this. But something happened. I don’t know who you are and quite frankly, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of who you’ve become, who you may end up being, and what will happen if I stay. How do I know you won’t kill me, Mason?” I stand there with tears falling from my eyes. A part of me still wants Mason, but I know my heart isn’t in it anymore.

“I would never kill you,” he says softly.

“How do I know that, Mason? I bet you never thought you would hit me, either. I bet you would’ve told me a few months ago that you would never cheat, or get another girl pregnant, or throw me against a wall!” I say, my voice rising.

He stands up now, facing me. I am scared. I’m not ready for another fight. Maybe he’ll kill me this time. Maybe I’d be thankful.

To my surprise, he hugs me; and then he cries on my shoulder.
And I feel terrible
. Without thinking about it, I hug him and cry with him. I guess this is what we both need.

“I’m so sorry. I know I’ve said this a lot, but I never meant it—any of it. I didn’t mean to blame you for anything. I never meant to hurt you,” he says through his tears.

This made me hug him tighter and suddenly I look into his emerald eyes and see the sorrow I’ve been looking for all this time. “Mason, it’s okay. Really. I know you’re sorry and I forgive you. I’m sorry for not trying harder to understand. It’s both of our faults
.” I think I mean it
.

I don’t know what comes over me, but I kiss him. Maybe it’s the tears, or maybe the confession, or maybe I do still love Mason.
I kiss him as if we are sharing our last kiss. He puts his arms around my waist and then lays me down on the couch. He never once takes his lips off of me. He begins kissing my neck. Maybe it’s a reaction or maybe it’s hormones, but I say it.

“Mason, I love you so much.”
And I don’t think I am lying
.

***

“Mason, what time is it?” I ask in a tired voice.

“Seven fifty,” he answers, almost asleep again after looking at his watch.

We let our hormones get the best of us; which makes everything even more complicated.

“Shit, Mason!” I yell, now alert.

“What?” he asks, now also alert.

“I had a counseling session at seven thirty—I’m late!” I say, getting up and putting my clothes back on.

“Counseling session?” he asks, puzzled.

“Yeah—the hospital made a referral to a center not too far from here and I have to go—I guess I can call and tell them I’m late and I’m still coming,” I say.

“Yeah, do that,” Mason says, yawning.

I quickly call, and the receptionist answers the phone.

“Hi. My name is Taylor Caldwell and I had an appointment at seven thirty. Is it possible for me to still come? I had an emergency, so I’m running a bit late.” I have to lie. The only emergency I had was Mason on top of me—but in a good way this time.

“Hold on one second while I ask,” she says into the phone.

I wait until she comes back before going outside to my car.

“Um, yes, Ms. Caldwell—oh, I’m sorry, Mrs. Taylor.” For some reason, I cringe at the thought of her calling me that. “Dr. Rayner says it’s okay for you to come in, since she’s running late with another patient.”

“Okay. Thank you so much,” I say, before hanging up and getting into my car.

The doctor’s office isn’t too far from where I live; nothing in this town is too far from where I live. I rush, since I don’t want her
to wait any longer than she has to. I walk up to the sign-in desk to let the receptionist know I’m here. “Hi, I’m Taylor, the one who called not too long ago with the seven-thirty appointment,” I say as politely as I know how.

“Oh, hi. Nice to see you made it. Just fill out these forms and Dr. Rayner will be with you shortly.”

She must still be in session with her other patient. I sit down and fill out the forms she asked me to complete. It’s the usual: insurance and medical history. I finish in about ten minutes and hand it back to the receptionist. I’m about to sit down when the doctor and her patient come walking out of the door. I can’t believe it; her patient is
my
Peyton. I guess this is the psychologist he’s been seeing. It would make sense, since we both live in the same town.

“So I guess I’ll see you next week, Peyton,” the doctor says.

“Yeah, you will. Later, Kate,” he responds.

Kate
. He must be close enough to her that they are on a firstname basis. He turns around and he notices me before I can say a word to him.

“Wow—I guess you’re stalking me now,” he says in a playful manner.

“You’re not that lucky,” I say, admiring him as if it’s the first time we’re meeting.

I love Peyton and I can’t control what is happening inside of me.

He smiles at me and then tells me he’ll talk to me later while giving me the most wonderful hug. I have to let go because I swear I’m beginning to melt in his arms. The whole time, I forget the doctor is standing there.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Taylor Caldwell,” I say, reaching out to shake her hand.

“It’s okay,” she says with a smile, “I’m Dr. Rayner, but you can call me Kate if you’d like.”

She’s really nice and well mannered. I am already comfortable with her. I follow her into her office and sit down on the couch, as she suggests. It’s a very comfortable setting. Everything is so organized and neat. I guess it has to be; that’s the only way she can get people to spill their deepest, darkest secrets.

“So I see you know Peyton,” she says, writing something on her notepad.

“Y-yeah. He’s my best friend. He’s…uh…also my…um my husband’s cousin.” I struggle to get the words out for some reason. Possibly because I know Peyton isn’t only my best friend; he’s the guy I cheated on my husband with.

“Oh, really? That’s nice to know. He’s a very nice young man. Um, I’m sorry. How old are you?” she asks with a face that says, You are too young to be married.

“Seventeen.”

“Well, I knew you looked young. If you don’t mind me asking, how old were you when you got married?”

“I don’t mind you asking at all. That’s why we’re here, right? For you to get to know me better. I got married on my seventeenth birthday in July. It was a surprise to me also,” I say with a chuckle.

“Why did you decide to get married so young?”

I see where this is going. “Well, I don’t know really. I guess because Mason and I were in love. And there were people who doubted us, so we wanted to prove them wrong. He surprised me on my birthday and we had a beautiful ceremony—it was very intimate,” I say, looking down at my ring and remembering the good days that were only six months ago.

“What people doubted you?” she asks with a serious look on her face.

“My parents. They didn’t believe that we were really in love. They don’t believe in much that I do, though,” I say, still looking down.

“Do you speak to your parents much, Taylor?”

“Not at all, actually. The only one I speak to in my family is my older brother, Jackson. He’s the only one who gets me. I have a little sister, Kristen, but we don’t have anything in common except that we like to stay away from each other.”

“Kristen—how much younger is she than you?”

“Just a year and some months. She’ll be sixteen in March.”

“Why do you feel like she tries to stay away from you?”

“Because she’s the popular sister, and I only became popular because Mason Taylor took an interest in me. It’s sad—I know.”
I cannot believe how easily the words come out. I should’ve tried this therapy thing a long time ago.

“And Mason—are you two happy together?”

There’s the question. I knew it was leading up to this. The room falls silent for a few moments.

“Taylor?”

“Oh…uh…yeah, Mason and I are very happy,” I try to say convincingly.

“Taylor, are you telling me the truth? Be honest now. Everything you say here is confidential. No one ever knows what we speak about,” she assures me. “Are you and Mason really happy?”