Sail (Wake #2) (8 page)

Vacation was a crazy idea. From the outside, it may have looked like I was trying to run away from my responsibilities, but that wasn’t how it felt. It felt like finally running toward the biggest one. I’d hurt Casey so many times, over and over, and by God if he wanted to fly off somewhere with me for a few days, I saw no reason to deprive him anymore. I’d resisted being with him on so many occasions, most of which never worked out for either of us in the long run. I was breaking that habit. Not just for him, but for me. I wanted to spend time with him. I craved it.

I knew the months ahead would get a little hectic. My job. His job. Everything my impending divorce would bring into the picture would be a challenge. It was going to be nice to start the year off on a good note, though. A better note. A truthful note. A Casey note.

I daydreamed of sandy beaches and relaxation the whole day as I worked.

I’d been working on a new identity for a restaurant called The Clover, a traditional Irish establishment that hadn’t done a thing to their menu, or any other part of the place, for over thirty years. My latest version of their menu went through last approvals by the owners without a single hang-up. They loved it and I was glad. I was happy to see months of work finally pay off.

Shane picked me up from the office and we headed to the house. Initially, I’d thought Grant would be at work. It was still early in the evening, and I was shocked seeing his vehicle in the drive at that time of day on a Wednesday. I hadn’t been back since everything happened and my car sat there, too. Parked where I’d left it last year.

Had it only been a week?

“You ready for this?” Shane asked.

“I told you, if this is weird, you don’t have to come in. I know you’re friends.” I felt sour about putting Shane in that position, but he’d offered more than once to help. Although I didn’t have many things, having him there helped. I wasn’t quite so alone.

“You’re my sister, Blake. Grant and I got along because you were together. He’s an all right guy, but you’re what matters here. To me. To Mom. To Dad. Don’t worry about it.” Then he chuckled under his breath. “It is kinda funny that he helped me move out of
my
house when Kari and I split. Now I’m helping you move out of his. It has a karma-ish feel to it, don’t you think?”

“I don’t think that’s funny,” I told him. His attempt at making light of the situation for my benefit didn’t go unnoticed, but I really wasn’t looking forward to going inside. In terms of karma, I was the one who was in for a double dose.

“Oh, it’s funny. Kari was a bitch,” he pointed out.

Then he slapped the steering wheel and turned off the ignition just as my dad pulled in behind us. We hopped out and marched up to the door. It was about to get awkward and I silently prayed it would start raining so we’d work even faster. But no. Of all days, it was sunny and mild for January in Seattle.

“Are you sure about this, Blake?” my dad asked, carrying a box full of other boxes and packing materials.

“Yes. I’m sure.” I was sure. Sure it was going to suck. I just needed to be kind. After all, I was the adulterer. I’d broken our marriage vows. I was the villain in the situation. The least I could do was be sensitive. “Do you mind if I go in first?” I asked them as we stood on the porch.

“No, that’s fine. You go in. Let us in when you’re ready,” prompted my dad.

Had I mentioned that I love him? I kissed his cheek and fit the key in the lock letting myself in.

The house was quiet, except I faintly heard the shower going upstairs.

What were the rules? Could I go up there? Should I wait outside with them for a few more minutes? One thing was certain, it didn’t feel like I lived there. It wasn’t my home. I didn’t feel loss or like I was making a bad move. I only felt sad I’d wasted a lot of people’s time and put them in this position.

I wanted it over with and to get what I needed, at least for the time being. The essentials. Clothes. Sentimental things, although after reflecting, there weren’t many. The job probably didn’t require both my dad and brother to help me with the few things I wanted. And there wasn’t much sense moving everything to a storage unit, just to move them to an apartment a few weeks later. But I had a lot of clothes and shoes—things like that—which I would need in the meantime.

And my mugs.

I trekked into the kitchen at the back of the house, and saw what a mess had become of it. Dishes were piled up. There were take-out boxes on the counter and, above all, the room reeked like a hot trashcan. Compulsion overcame me. The offending receptacle was full, so I emptied it and placed the first bag outside the back door. A second filled up rather quickly and I put it out with the other.

I hurriedly ran the water hot to rinse the dishes and loaded the washer as my family waited outside. In ten short minutes, the state of the wrecked room improved a lot.

Hearing Grant come down the stairs, I shut the dishwasher and started it. Then I waited for him to find me.

“Hi,” he announced when he wandered toward the racket I was making in his kitchen. He was freshly showered, but oddly he didn’t look clean. His hair was messy, his face had a week’s worth of stubble, and dark circles were visible on the undersides of his eyes. I gathered he’d spent his time drinking from the quantity of bottles I’d thrown out. Grant in a crisis was not the Grant I knew.

“Hi,” I said. Guilt bubbled inside me and surfaced. How quickly I’d forgotten the sensation of it, but in an instant, its force coursed through me. I’d hurt him. “Are you all right?”

“Are you really leaving me?” he asked point blank.

I tried to be strong, though I didn’t feel strong. I felt terrible. “Yes. Did you get my email?”

“No. I haven’t checked my
email.
”

“Why didn’t you call me back?”

“I don’t know,” he huffed. He was agitated.

“I’m sorry.” I leaned against the counter and my hands held onto the stone against my back. “I don’t know what to say.”

“How about you’re done fucking that guy and you’re coming home?” He stalked closer to me. “How about you tell me how you could lie to me for so long? How about you tell me why you did it? Huh, Blake. Just tell me!” He’d never raised his voice to me in the past, but to be fair, I hadn’t behaved like he expected me to either. He was shouting at that point and only feet from my face.

I bowed my head and took it. I deserved it.

“I can’t believe you fucked me over like this. And for that guy? What the hell,
Betty!
”

My lip quivered a little. Then I was comforted by the sound of the front door opening and my dad calling in with, “Blake, are you okay?”

I looked into Grant’s eyes and they were red and glassy. Hot tears spilled onto my cheeks and I quickly swiped them away. A cocktail of empathy and anger built in my body. I had no reason to be angry with Grant, but the way he was yelling flooded me with defensive adrenaline.

“I’m fine, Dad,” I assured, making sure to speak calmly.

“He’s here to help you?” Grant asked, nodding, a sarcastic grin forming on his tempered face. He was shocked and something in his eyes flared to life again. “Ha. This is rich. What lie did you tell him?” He tracked into the dining room, which opened into the front room, where my dad was just inside the door.

“Grant, stop,” I urged, but the crazed look on his face told me he wasn’t going to.

“Hey, Phil,” he said brightly like he was welcoming him into a party. Then Shane came inside too. “Oh, and Shane is here. Is Reggie out there too? Did you all come to help Blake? Did she tell you what’s going on? I’d love to know what story she fed you.”

I stood in the doorway watching. I knew what he was doing. He was trying to hurt me. And, frankly, that did piss me off. I was so thankful I’d told my family and they were there backing me up, because in that moment I needed it.

Grant wasn’t a violent man, well until the last week. And it wasn’t like he’d been brutally violent with me, per se. However, the words coming from him were intended to cut me deep, but I was armed with the truth. Finally, that bitch was on my side.

“It’s just us. We’re here to help Blake pack up a few things. That’s all,” my dad said as he pulled his arms through his jacket and took it off, laying it over the back of a chair nearest him.

“So what did she tell you? What lie? Was I mean to her? No. That can’t be it. Wasn’t providing for her? No. I sure as hell bought her this house. Let’s see—”

Shane interrupted, “I think that’s enough, Grant.”

“Oh, maybe she told you I was fucking someone else. Was that it?” He turned to look at me for confirmation of his accusation. It was lucky for him I’d never seen this side of him before we were married. Or maybe not. At least then he wouldn’t be going through a divorce. I wouldn’t have even considered being his wife had I witnessed how ugly he could be. There never would have been a Blake Kelly.

“I told them the truth,” I said. “Everything. They know
everything.
”

He laughed. “One should be so lucky. When are you going to tell me
everything?
When is it my turn? When’s the next showing of Blake the True Story? I don’t want to miss it.”

My dad interjected, “Come on, Blake. You wanted to get some of your clothes. Let’s go up and get them.” He didn’t feed into Grant’s hostility. I never wanted a fight and the three of us knew that wasn’t Grant’s normal behavior. He was mad, and rightly so. But my dad was right, that wasn’t what we were there for. We were there for my shit and that was all. There was nothing else in that house I wanted. I had never really lived here. I had never really
lived
with Grant. We had…co-existed. Yet, he’d been happy with that? How is that possible?

I went back into the kitchen and opened the cabinet to search for my mugs. I couldn’t leave them now. Not after almost two years and countless nights of drinking wine from them while dreaming of Casey. Even though their writing had all but weathered away, the words were scored in my mind. I was trouble and he liked it. Those mugs were mine.

When I found them, I wrapped the mismatched pair in a plastic grocery bag. Heading upstairs, I noticed Grant had taken a seat at the table with his head in his hands. It was a miserable sight. I detested seeing what I’d done to someone who I’d sworn to love, but my sympathy couldn’t change it. Hell, it couldn’t even change the way I felt about him when I’d tried to make it.

Didn’t that count for something? Didn’t
trying
my best to be with him add up to anything to anyone? It didn’t seem like it. So what was it all for? I’d carelessly thrown away so much time.

Packing a closet in a hurry is pretty damn easy. Just grab an armful, lift and drop crap in a box. After we filled what boxes we had and they’d loaded them in the truck, I retrieved some of my things from the office and packed up my laptop bag with items I used when I worked from home.

I reflected as I stepped down the stairs and realized I didn’t care about much else within the walls of that house. Would we split up the furniture? Would we divide the flatware and dishes? I didn’t give a shit about any of it. He could have it all.

I carried out the last few things I wanted to Shane’s truck and told him I’d be right back. I needed to say something to Grant. I wasn’t sure what that was, but I hoped by the time I got where he was still sitting, it would be the right thing.

It turns out, the right thing for me was, “I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m seeing a lawyer. We’re getting a divorce.”

To those words he looked up, but his vision lacked focus. “You don’t even want to try?”

“I’ve been trying for a really long time, Grant. I truly have.” Speaking those words, out loud to him, opened a floodgate inside me. He wanted the truth, there it was. Saying it to his face was pivotal.

It felt like my two halves were being stitched back together into one, like I was taking my heart back.

“Am I really that bad? I don’t get it,” he said, picking at the edge of a place mat my mother had registered for us and we’d received as a wedding gift.

“Grant, it’s more that I shouldn’t have married you in the first place. That was one of my biggest mistakes, because we should have been friends. Not husband and wife.”

I took a heavy breath and smiled through tears that flowed like overfilled ditches during a spring rain. I let them go. In a weird way, I needed him to see them. Deep down I wasn’t a monster; I gained no pleasure out of his despair. But I didn’t love him, not like I vowed I would.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wedding rings and set them on the table. They weren’t mine and I hadn’t earned them to keep.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. Then I left.

Grant and I were
over
in my mind. More
over
than when I had sex with Casey the first time in the Ashcroft Hotel. More
over
than the countless times I’d prayed Casey would turn up in a city I was working in. More
over
than when I’d cried heartsick tears at our wedding instead of joyous ones. We were done.

The tremendous burden I’d been carrying lessened.

I was closer. I was getting there.