The Ground Rules: Undone (13 page)

Gwen studies me with curious eyes. “What don’t you understand?”

I blow out a breath. “Bridget. She blew out the fire,” I tell her, not believing my own words. “She took care of everything. Weston won’t be pressing charges. Gabe will be fine.”

Gwen lights up. “That’s great. What are you so freaked out about?”

I don’t understand. I was sure she would bury Gabe. The man beat the crap out of her husband, her children’s father. And I’m sure she has the power to ensure he’s kept behind bars.

Maybe Bridget cares more about Gabe than I’ve ever thought. Maybe it’s not just about a good time. Maybe she has deep feelings for him. Perhaps she loves him? I can’t bear the thought. I’ve never thought about Gabe and Bridget. I’ve always preferred to think of the two of them as not quite real, like characters from a reality show. Could there be more than I thought between them? Gabe has told me he doesn’t love her, has no feelings for her beyond the physical. Could he have been lying?

“Can I get you anything?” the woman from the desk asks. “Would you like a cup of coffee while you wait?”

I look up at her, stunned by her kindness. I’m sure she’s seen me crying and is trying to help out. I will take anyone’s kindness right now. “Yes, I would like that. Thank you.”

Gwen and I wait for what seems like eternity. I call Caroline’s parents, explain there’s been an emergency and ask them to keep the girls for the night — it’s already past their bedtime. Her parents are on board but seem concerned. I tell them everything is fine. I can’t exactly tell them the whole story. I can’t tell them Gabe is in custody because he beat the shit out of some guy for impregnating me, all in the context of a naughty sex swap scenario. After all, our neighborhood is nice and classy.

Finally, Bridget, Gabe and a police officer make their way to the front desk. I jump up and practically throw myself at Gabe. He pushes me away softly, with nothing in his eyes but contempt. I take a step back and watch them as they sign some papers.

“I won’t be coming home,” he tells me, his words hard as steel. “Ever.”

I watch him follow Bridget out.

And I know we’re done.

CHAPTER NINE

This was his crime, not yours.

W
hen I get home in the middle of the night, I bury myself under the covers of my bed. But it seems so cold and empty without Gabe. He’s so large and usually splayed across our king-sized bed. There’s always a limb, a hand or a foot touching me and I love that — that small bit of physical contact. I miss it now. What I wouldn’t give to have just the tip of his pinkie toe touching mine.

I slip on some sweats and a t-shirt and rush to go get the girls at Caroline’s. My heart is beating, like I’m half expecting them not to be there. But Gabe would never do that. He would never take them from me.

As soon as they see me in the front hall, they both jump up on me.

“We had so much fun, Mommy,” Claire tells me. And I’m so glad they have no clue what’s going on. They have no idea our family is completely unraveled. And I vow to keep them in the dark a little longer. I don’t want to tell them their lives are about to change, not just yet.

Chloe pipes in, as giddy as her sister. “We watched a movie and had popcorn, and we played Barbies this morning.”

“Is everything okay?” Caroline’s mom, Danielle, asks with a cocked brow. “You said there was an emergency.”

I sigh. “Yes, uh…Gabe was in an accident in the city last night,” I say, blatantly lying.

Chloe’s eyes grow wide. “Is Daddy okay?”

I stroke her hair. “Yes, Daddy’s all right. He’s staying at the hospital for a little bit, just for tests and stuff. But he’s perfectly fine, baby.” Now I’m lying to my daughters too. It seems I’m lying to everyone.

“Oh God,” Danielle says. “Was his nice truck wrecked to bits?”

Oh shoot.

Lying is definitely not my thing. I don’t think I’m clever enough. “Um…” I stammer, in a bind. “Amazingly, the truck is fine. Just a few nicks. It’s in the shop right now and it’ll be as good as new.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it.”

“Well, thanks so much for looking after the girls. You folks are awesome. I’ll pay Caroline handsomely.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. She had fun. We all did.”

“I insist.” Seriously, a few extra dollars is the least of my concerns. Unfortunately, I have much bigger problems to worry about.

I walk aimlessly around the small gift and flower shop, not sure what to get for him. Unfortunately, there are no cards for ‘I’m sorry my husband beat the shit out of you because I’m carrying your baby’. I settle for a generic ‘Get Well’ card. I flip through all the cards which all seem so uninspired to me. Finally I settle on a card with a picture of the ocean and a sunset. Not exactly original, but I know how much he loves the ocean. I want a card that says everything I want to tell him; how sorry I am to have messed up his life, and how much I wish for his happiness, even if he chooses to no longer be part of my life, and how much I love him. I do truly love him.

I make my way to the flower shop counter and consider my options. There are so many beautiful bouquets but they all seem so feminine. What do you get for a man who’s just been beaten? I’m sure he doesn’t exactly feel very manly, or strong. It must have been humiliating for him. I’m so happy no one saw it. I’m so glad I didn’t see it. The aftermath must have been humiliating as well — his employees finding him lifeless and bloody. But thankfully, as is my understanding, he was unconscious at the time. I’m sure he’s not looking forward to going back to his office. He must despise Gabe. He must hate me. Why didn’t he press charges? He must know about the baby. Bridget knew, so by extension, he must know. This is not how I wanted him to find out. There are so many questions I want to ask.

I decide on a pretty arrangement of bright purple tulips. With their straight lines and minimalism, they are the most masculine flowers in the shop, and the contemporary clear square vase adds an edge of class.

I take a seat on the bench, and stare at the blank card.

My cell rings, the familiar tune jolts me out of my zombie-state.

“Hi, Mirella,” Gwen says. “I’m just calling because we can’t find the Princess Monopoly game. Do you have any clue where it might be?”

“It’s at the top of the closet, in the entry hall. How are things going?”

“They’re great. We just came back from the park and now we’re ready for some lemonade and a fun game of Monopoly.”

I smile. “Thank you so much, Gwen. I love you.” Gwen has been so great through all this. I can’t possibly thank her enough.

“I love you too. Have you seen him yet?”

“Not yet. I’m just trying to write a ‘get well’ card but I have no idea what to write.”

“Just write it from the heart.”

I sigh into the phone. “Easier said than done.”

“And Mirella…”

“What?”

“I’m sorry about all the bad things I’ve said about him. He seems like a decent guy…not making Gabe pay and all. I’m sorry this happened to him.”

“Me too.”

I’m so sorry.

For everything.

Love, Mirella

It’s all I can think to write. Although I know I could probably write him a book, with all the things I’d like to say to him.

When I get to the hospital reception, I encounter a frenzy. There’s a young woman with three kids in tow at the front desk. And there’s also a large multi-generational family speaking a foreign language. The place is pure chaos. When I finally get to speak to the receptionist, she tells me I won’t be able to see Weston. She gives me this spiel about hospital policy and security and confidentiality.

I’ve got nothing to work with. I have no clue where he is. I imagine he was probably brought into the trauma unit, and later moved somewhere else. All the info I could get from Kathryn was that he was fine, bruised up with a broken nose, a broken rib and a head injury. She told me he’s staying in the hospital an extra day, and will be back at the office soon.

I could just wait a day to see him. But I need to see him now.

We desperately need to talk. I wonder why he hasn’t called me. He knows I’m carrying his child. Maybe he’s not in a position to, or healthy enough to call. Perhaps Bridget has forbidden him to ever speak to me again.

Or maybe he just doesn’t give a shit.

To not call and leave me hanging, leaving me to wonder, is the cruelest thing he could do. But I’m convinced that he’s not purposely trying to be cruel.

I stand by the counter, in tears. “Well, could you at least give him these on my behalf? His full name is on the card.”

Her face softens as she studies me. “Give them to me. I’ll see what I can do.”

I’m in no state to drive when I leave the hospital. I’m still all shaken up, in sobs. I take a seat on a bench next to a small elderly man who eyes me with pity.

“You’ll be fine, love,” he says.

I want to tell him I won’t be. He has no clue.

I sit there for the longest time. The small elderly man eventually leaves, replaced by a mother and her small daughter. The girl asks her mother why I’m crying. The mother shushes her and tells her it’s because I’m sad. She wipes her daughter’s nose and hands her a small container of Goldfish crackers and a juice box. The duo is then replaced by a sullen teen with messy long hair who doesn’t even acknowledge me. I like her the best. I can finally cry in peace.

When my phone rings again, I roll my eyes. The last thing I want to do right now is explain to Gwen how to make a basic lunch for the girls.

I swallow and blow my nose one last time before I answer. “Hello.”

“Hello, Mirella,” he says. His voice is soft.

My heart seems to stop for a good five seconds.

“Mirella?”

“I’m here, Weston,” I breathe. “I’m here.”

I can hear him breathing. “Mirella, why didn’t you tell me?” His voice is uneven, jagged. I’m not sure but I think he’s crying, or trying hard not to cry.

The sound of his voice completely does me in. “I wanted to tell you,” I cry. “I didn’t want you to find out like this.”

“How did this happen? How could you let this happen? I trusted you.”

“I was sick, Weston. I was sick and…” It’s no use. It’s too complicated to explain and the damage is already done. What does it matter the reason?

The softness in his voice is gone and his words are hard when he says, “How could you be so irresponsible?”

I feel anger rise within me. My stomach seems to harden as I feel a blush travel to my cheeks. How dare him. “You’re the one who… that night in New York. You didn’t… it takes two to tango, Weston. Don’t put this all on—”

“Did you want this to happen?”

“What?” I snap. “Yes, I wanted to completely mess up my life. I wanted my husband to leave me. I wanted to be doing this kid thing all over again.” I’m yelling and the sullen girl is sure paying attention now.

“You didn’t even come to me. Gabe told me you were already in the second trimester.”

“I wanted—”

“I’d wager you didn’t even consider your options. You didn’t even consider where I stood in all this.” His loud stern voice is shrill in my ear. “You didn’t even care, you selfish, selfish woman.”

“I’m sorry.” It’s all I can say. He’s broken me down. I’m like a lifeless ragdoll with a missing eye, tossed in the corner.

“I don’t want to hear it,” he says.

“I’m sorry I got knocked up,” I cry. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry Gabe beat the crap out of—”

“That was his crime, not yours.”

“But still, I’m so sorry he hurt you.”

“He didn’t hurt me, Mirella,” he tells me, his voice eerily even, “…he humiliated me.”

My heart sinks at the thought of Gabe’s actions. “Why didn’t you press charges?” It’s the question I’ve desperately wanted answered since I found out.

There’s a long sigh at the end of the line. “Because…because I didn’t want to hurt you, Mirella. And to hurt him is to hurt you. The last thing you need is your children’s father behind bars. I suspect you have enough problems as it stands.”

I cry into the phone. “Thank you,” I say, the words a high-pitched whimper.