Leaving Amy (Amy #2) (2 page)

Was he this broken up about us? Did he go and cry to Violet that we were over? Did I? I think I just sat there for a while with a confused look on my face. Like the people you see in movies wearing a straitjacket. Why couldn’t he have just driven some place different tonight? Why did I have to be home? I can’t deal with this. I don’t know how. One more week and he couldn’t have found me here. I’d safely be tucked in at Mark’s house. At Mark’s house…would I ever think of it as my house, too?

He sat up and looked at me with all the intensity of trying to figure out if I was speaking Japanese or English.

“What?” I asked.

“Amy, are you blaming my affair for the reason we broke up?”

I cleared my throat.
Are you kidding me?
Wasn’t the brown-haired, skirt-hugging bimbo, standing over his hospital bed, gushing over him, the reason we broke up? I needed a second. I’m pretty sure I’d diagramed this one correctly in my head. What else was to blame?
Who
else, for that matter?

“Amy, we were practically strangers the last year we lived together.” Suddenly he had sobered up from his five shots at the bar. “We hadn’t had sex for six months. I even spent my birthday on a business trip. When I got home, you handed me an envelope with a gift certificate in it for the golf course.” He situated himself to the edge of the sofa and gestured with his hands. “I don’t even play golf, Amy.”

Suddenly feeling on the defense, I raised my voice. “I was giving you a new hobby, Wesley. Forgive me for trying to spice things up in your life. The sport of television-watching was putting a few pounds around your waist.” So it was a cheap shot; I instantly regretted saying it.

“Golf? You think golf spices up things, Amy?”

Okay, so now that he said it like that, it certainly didn’t. But, I was grasping at straws with how to make him happy. Marion, from work, said her husband always came home from playing golf a happier man. I just wanted Wesley to be happy again.

“Let’s face it, Amy:
we
were the reason our marriage ended. Violet was just the next step in making it final.”

More than a slap to my face, his comment punched my gut, too. “Oh, really? Well, I wish I was privy to the knowledge you’d moved on. It would’ve been nice to have had that told to me instead of reading a note on the stupid refrigerator that you didn’t love me anymore.”

He inched closer to me, raising his index finger almost within inches of my face. “Now you hold on one minute. I never said I didn’t love you anymore. Short of you cutting out my heart and handing it to me on a plate, I would never stop loving you.”

Well, well, well.
That certainly took the wind out of my sail. My gun was empty of ammunition. Why would he say something so stupid? So utterly stupid. Did this mean he still loved me? Because until a few seconds ago, I never allowed myself to define what I felt about Wesley. I didn’t have to. He was out of my life. Someone else’s problem. Somewhere else.

Currently, however, he was now here, in my living room, in my face. Throwing around a finger, saying he loved me. Or was I just reading more into it than what it was? He was just lonely and confused. Who wouldn’t be with all that extra hair and crazy outfit? I swallowed hard and resurrected my self-assertive posture. “What did you come here for, Wesley?”

“I’m sorry, Amy.” The hinge on his neck broke again, leaving it to hang between his shoulders. His imposing finger joined his others and held on to his other hand.

“It’s over, Wesley. Let’s get past it. We both were at fault, but you more so for having an affair behind my back. At least I never gave up on us. That night you wrecked, I was home waiting for you in this godforsaken lingerie I’d bought at the mall. You would’ve gotten a laugh if you’d seen me come through those doors of the hospital, pulling closed a trench coat I’d pulled from the closet on my way out the door.”

He looked up and grabbed his mouth. “You didn’t! Amy! You bought lingerie for me?”

“Wesley, you missed the point that I was wearing it in public.”

His eyes changed. They were full of sober sincerity when he looked at me now. “I’m just touched that you bought
and
wore lingerie for me. I know how you think it’s trashy to see girls in those kinds of things.”

“My mother taught me that. I was just self-conscious of what I looked like in it. I never thought I’d be pretty in something that showed so much of my body.”

His hand roamed over to my knee and rested on it. “Amy, you’re beautiful.”

I couldn’t move.
How was his hand controlling my ability to breathe in and out?
I’d never once felt uncomfortable with Wesley. Somehow not even when I accidently tooted in the car on the way to the movies that one time. I just shook my head and smiled, knowing he’d heard it but would never give me grief about it. I had enchiladas and beans, for goodness’ sakes. No one is perfect when it comes to beans and gas!

“Well, I’ve got packing to do. And Mark is on his way over here.”

I stood up and hoped he’d do the same. Instead, he broke down. His face buried in his hands, he wept. I knelt and took him into my arms. All of the discomfort of his visit disappeared when I saw him crying. Jim Beam-scented air puffed from his mouth as he spoke into my chest.

“I screwed up, Amy.”

Slightly rocking him like a baby, I smoothed back his coarse hair. “
We
screwed up, Wesley. But life goes on. You’re going to be fine.”

He pulled back and looked at me with hurt in his brown eyes. “I’ve lost everything. Not just you, but Violet took all my money and I haven’t been able to find her.”

I backed up from him. “What? What do you mean she took your money? Certainly you mean the money in the checking account. Not your money in the trust fund? Tell me you didn’t give her access to that, Wesley.”

We had a deal from the beginning: Wesley kept his trust in his own account and I kept mine in my separate account. At one time I had an account for Ashley, but she burned through that years ago.

His eyes shifted back to the carpet. I saw a small tear crawl down his cheek and he wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

“How much are we talking?”

“Well let’s just say, the bank has no need to send me a statement anymore.”

My eyes nearly popped from their sockets. “Wesley! There was fifty thousand in there, last time I saw the statement.”

“That’s not the half of it. I put that into an account with Violet after I signed for a restaurant, a new car, and a one-year lease on a house in Nevada.”

I didn’t know how to shut my gaping mouth. In none of my thoughts about wishing Wesley a ping of weekly hurt for cheating did they include him going down in financial ruin. I shook my head like a parent does when their child confesses to spending their last dime on a piece of gum that loses flavor in ten seconds.

“What are you going to do?”

He pushed himself back into the cushions of our still shared sofa and spanned his legs wide apart again. “Well, let’s see. I spent the first two weeks she left me in a stupor on the floor in the kitchen. When I finally came to consciousness from my drunkenness, I didn’t have far to grab a box of cereal and eat it. I needed to maintain my strength, you know.” He looked at me briefly, puckered out his lower lip and shook his head up and down. “Then, about week three, I called Jeff and asked to come back to work. Thank God I didn’t completely mess that up. I never checked back in after my medical leave. As far as he thought, I was still recuperating.

“I saw Margaret in the store a couple months ago. She asked how you were. I said fine and left it like that. I pretended to be running late so she wouldn’t ask anything else. I didn’t want to go there with her. Not in public, at least.”

I sunk back, matching his broken posture.

Jeff and Margaret are husband and wife and were dear friends of Wesley’s father and mother. Jeff was an attorney in our dads’ law firm. After our dads died in the plane crash, Jeff became sole owner of the firm and kept Wesley on, hoping one day that Wesley would take his law board exam and take over his dad’s position. Years later, it remained open in the air.

“Thank goodness. As far as everyone is concerned, I was pretty banged up from the accident and now I’m back to work. It didn’t hurt that Jeff’s been occupied with something personal that’s taken him from work. He’s none the wiser of what’s been going on and I haven’t breathed a word of it to anyone there. I don’t need that right now. At least I took my problems to Nevada and kept them there.”

I snapped back up on the edge of the sofa frame. “What? Jeff and Margaret still think we’re…that we’re? No one still knows that…” I couldn’t say it.
Why was this happening?

“It turns out it’s the only thing I did right by not saying anything. You wouldn’t believe what he called me into his office yesterday and said, Amy.”

I waited with bated breath. “What?”

He pulled himself out of the contour of the comfortable chair. This looked serious as he took a breath before saying whatever it was.

“He said that there’s a second trust.”

“Huh?” I heard him; I just wasn’t sure what it meant.

“It seems that Dad, in his infinite trust that I wouldn’t be a total screw-up, had a trust for my thirtieth birthday. But the contingency was that I had to be married for at least five years to get it. Of course, it also stated that if I was partner in the law practice, more was waiting for me, but I certainly can’t fake that.”

“We only had four years and we’re getting a divorce. Certainly you can’t fake that, either, Wesley.” I was a bit relieved and saddened at the same time. It was out of my control, but I felt this was his dad’s way of screwing him over from the grave.

Mr. Whitfield never made it easy for Wesley. He always called him a momma’s boy and that he’d probably end up in an apartment, gaming all day, letting some woman take care of him. The Wesley I knew never gave him any reason to say those terrible things. I wasn’t sure why there was so much animosity between those two.

“Technically, but this past year, while we’ve been…whatever, counted as our fifth.”

Lights came on in my brain. This was the reason for Wesley’s visit. The reason he had to stop off and drink himself courage to come over and ask me to lie in order for him to get what was owed to him. What did it matter? As much as I felt betrayed as his wife, I didn’t wish him to suffer for eternity for it. Obviously he needed it now more than ever.

“What do I have to do? Go and sign a document or something?” I shook my head and let out a sigh, as if it was an inconvenience to do it. But truthfully, it wouldn’t kill me. What would signing a paper cause me? He deserved something bad for cheating on me, but not from his father. And hadn’t Violet already taken care of that mission? He was penniless, in a bad lease, owner of a bad business deal, and now needed some living room furniture to replace all of it I had taken. Oh, and let’s not forget most of the dinner plates, treadmill, and towels and washcloths.

The tension in his back released and he let out a sigh. “Oh Amy, you don’t mind agreeing we’re still married?”

“Well, like you said, technically we are. You’ve refused to sign the paperwork making it official.”

I stood up and grabbed the basket of clothes, carrying them to another chair. I felt this time together had to end soon. Mark would be home any minute. I’d just sign the paper and have Wesley out of my life again. And knowing he was not in financial distress would let me sleep better at nights.

“Where is it?”

“Where is what?” He stood up and pulled his pants down that had ridden up on him while sitting. “I can’t believe you’d do this for me. After all that’s happened.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t see your dad holding this back from you just because we didn’t make it.” I stood in front of the mirror and pulled my hair out of the ponytail. I took out a lip gloss from my purse that was sitting on the floor and glided the pink across my lips. “Did you bring the paper with you or do I need to go to the office to have it notarized? I really hate to speed this up, but I’ve got Mark coming over with dinner. It wouldn’t be cool if you were here when he arrived.” I pursed my lips, trying to talk while applying the color.

“What are you doing?” He walked closer to me.

“I’m getting ready.”

“Ready for what?” He stood against the wall and crossed his arms, looking at me with arched eyebrows.

“For dinner.”

“Isn’t he just bringing takeout? You’re not even leaving the apartment, Amy. You never wore lip stuff when we’d eat.”

I closed the gloss and threw it back in my bag. “Well, you never bought me a restaurant, a new car, and cheated with me on your wife.” I smiled a snotty smile at him and winked. “So, I guess we’re even for not doing things that we used to.”

“Touché.”

“Now, give me the paper so I can sign it so you can leave.”
I can
’
t be burdened any longer with your unkempt appearance. It
’
s not my problem anymore. It
’
s not my problem anymore.
Repeating the mantra helped with my determination to get him out of there.

“What paper?”

“Whatever I need to sign to say we’re still married.”

He scoffed, throwing his head toward the ceiling. “It’s not really a paper.”

I stopped mid-stride from the living room to the kitchen. “Well, what is it then?”

He cleared his throat and coughed quietly into his balled fist. His expression changed from at ease to seriousness. “You remember what’s coming up, right?”

“Wesley, I don’t have the time to play a guessing game. What do I have to do to ensure your money?”

He rushed to me, clasping his hands in pleading fashion. “Amy, you have to come.”

I swung around and almost bumped into him. His liquored breath lingered in the clean air around me. “Come where?”

“It’s my birthday on Friday. You know we always go to the cabin with Jeff, Margaret, and the others for Thanksgiving. They’re expecting us. And if we don’t go, Jeff will know something is up and he won’t sign over the trust to me.”