The Space In Between (4 page)

Picking up the box of black hair dye, I looked at the new
Meg Ryan,
You Got Mail
haircut I was sporting. The clock on the bathroom
wall ticked loudly behind me, reminding me that time was still moving forward
as I stood still. I looked at the clock, which said it was a little before
midnight, and the streets of New York City were still alive. The sounds of
sirens blaring made my skin crawl, and I watched the wicked window inviting the
winds into the apartment, blowing the curtains with the crisp, autumn
freshness.

I let out a sigh and began to overdose my hair with the dark
ink, which ran down my face. I watched as the clock struck midnight.

I STOOD OUTSIDE our New York
Apartment and waited for her to answer the door. I would be lying if I said my
heart didn’t skip a beat when I saw her. She looked amazing. Fuckin’ A, she was
gorgeous. She smiled brightly and invited me in. “No, I just wanted to drop
this off. You got my mail?” I handed Iris my key to the apartment and watched
her disappear to retrieve my mail.

When Iris returned to the porch, she handed me my letters
and sighed. “Come on, Cooper. Let’s talk. When did you get out?” I didn’t
listen and turned to walk away. She was pretty much begging for my attention,
“Seriously? That’s all I get?”

Turning back to her, I studied her stomach; she had to be
about five months pregnant and she was starting to show. “Yeah, Iris. That’s
all you get.”

I could feel my mind going back to the night I found out she
was pregnant. It was hard to focus on the moment before me and I was about to
lose it when I saw her and her stomach standing in front of me. I reached into
my coat pocket and squeezed the stress ball I’d become accustomed to carrying
around with me. Fuck. I shouldn’t have come here.

“It’s just, when you called I thought you were coming home…”
she whispered. She had a bit of hope in her eyes, hope that I would give her
the hug she was desperately in need of, hope that I would forgive her, and hope
that I would come home.

What home?
I thought to myself. I hadn’t had a home
in quite some time and didn’t want Iris to get the wrong idea. “I said I was
coming to drop off the key and pick up my mail. That’s all.”

Her hand reached out and grabbed my wrist. I raised an
eyebrow, “You don’t want to do that, Iris.” She let go instantly. Looking down
the street, I saw a few people with cameras snapping away at me. First, I was
shocked. That was until I looked up to see Iris and realized how gorgeous she
was. Even more beautiful than normal. High heels on to answer the door and not
a hair out of place. “You called the paparazzi?” I questioned.

She glanced in their direction and back to me, whispering
between her teeth. “If you come inside, we can talk. They’ll get their pictures
and we can figure out where to go from here. You’ve been all over the tabloids
since your…” She cleared her throat. “Since your
vacation
.”

“Unbelievable.” Stunned. I was fucking stunned by the
actions of my twisted wife. “I’m done, Iris.”

I turned, choosing to walk in the opposite direction of the
paparazzi, leaving a desperate woman standing there. The last thing I heard was
her voice hollering down the street, towards me I assumed. “Okay! Love you.”

How did we get so messed up? I swore there was a time when
we were happy, but that was a long fucking time ago.

IRIS WALKED INTO the living room
wearing a tank top and panties. I smirked as I sat editing pictures from a
photo shoot over in Paris. “Let’s go to bed.” She offered. I kept working; I
had to get the edits to the magazine by the end of the week. She walked over to
me, sliding between the desk and I. Wrapping her legs around my body, she
rubbed her face against me. “Bed. Please?”

“I’m almost done…” I explained as I tried to peek around
her sexy body pressed against mine.

Her hands rose to the air and her eyes lit up. I stopped
peeking around her and allowed myself to take in the beauty of my wife. My
hands lifted her tank top off and I rested my head against her stunning body,
delivering her a few kisses.

“Bed?” I offered and she laughed lightly.

 As I lifted her up, she snuggled her head into my
shoulder and kissed my neck. “I’m pregnant.” My walking came to a halt, and she
looked me in the eyes. “We’re pregnant.” She didn’t cry, but she was happy. I
could see it in her face, and she could probably see the joy in mine. We had
tried so fucking hard for so long and we were officially pregnant.

I covered her lips with mine as we continued onto the
bedroom to celebrate our new beginnings.

I COULDN’T HELP but roll my eyes
behind my sunglasses as I strolled down the streets of Manhattan with Kyle, my
manager and best friend. He was rambling off nonstop about something or other,
but I wasn’t really in the mindset of listening to him. As we walked past a
newsstand I cringed, seeing my and Iris’s photo plastered on the cover. Most of
the time, the headlines were extra insane. Total bullshit. But this time, some
read ‘divorce,’ ‘mental health clinic,’ and ‘cheating scandal.’ They were spot
on. Then again, whenever some famous couple had a fight, it was a divorce and
cheating scandal with a sprinkle of crazy. So Kyle informed me to lay low and
ignore it all.

It was tough to ignore it as the paparazzi scooted down the
streets of New York with us, hardly giving us enough room to breathe. I was
tired of all of this shit. Pulling my baseball cap lower, I cussed under my
breath and continued walking.

“I told you not to go see her,” Kyle scolded me. I informed
him of the mail exchange between Iris and me, and let’s just say he was less
than pleased. “I mean, seriously. If this is going to blow over, we gotta
communicate. You understand?”

My silence was enough to make him realize I was out of it. He
softened his tone, patted me on the back, saying we should grab a bite to eat.
The paparazzi’s questions were echoing in my ears. “Hey, Cooper! Over here!
Where’s Iris?” “Coop! My man! Can we get an exclusive?” “Where have you been?
We heard you took a trip to a mental health clinic after your breakdown at the
bar a few months ago. Are you crazy? Tom Reed?”

When I heard Tom’s name I snapped my head up, rage running
through me. Turning towards the cameras my eyebrow cocked up.
Tom Reed. Tom
Reed.
None of the paparazzi’s lips were moving. They weren’t asking about
Tom Reed at all. My fucked up mind was just dishing out some more reminders of
my messed up life.

The paparazzi drew in closer. My body tightened up. I was
caged in by the wild animals chasing me. They wouldn’t let up. And that feeling
I’d felt when Iris told me she was pregnant started creeping back into me. This
was after all, her fault. She was the reason why they wouldn’t leave me the
hell alone. She was the reason…

“Unclench your fists,” Kyle whispered harshly. I didn’t even
know they were clenched. Relaxing my fingers, the fist format faded. Kyle
smiled brightly for the cameras as he poked me in the side and delivered me a
confirming grin. I took the order, smiled towards the cameras, and waved.

I was so happy when we sat inside the restaurant. One thing
they weren’t allowed to do was follow me inside.

“My cousin is having a Christmas party. I got the invite
when I picked up my mail from Iris.” I cringed when I said that. Even hearing
her name from my lips made me sick.

“You have a cousin?” Kyle asked. I rolled my eyes and
thought back to the proper invitation I had received. It was very fancy, the
words written in beautiful cursive. The perfect shades of reds and silvers. A
perfectly tied bow at the top.

“They asked me to be the photographer.”

Kyle laughed so hard he almost spit out his food, but he
managed to choke it down. “Fat chance. What, do they think they can use your
services whenever the hell they want? Get real.”

It was true people had a tendency to try to use me once I
made it big, but I didn’t see my cousin’s family as those types of people.
Within the past five years, my uncle Wayne had created a brilliant ‘As Seen On
TV’ item that sold like wildfire and sent him to the outskirts of the small
town he’d raised his family in.

Uncle Wayne made twist-on caps for beer and soda cans that
kept one’s drink safely covered during outings to sporting events, parks,
picnics, or whatever the hell people did outside. Needed to be outside? Uncle
Wayne had a cap for that. They came in different colors. Some kept items
chilled, some had inserts for straws, and let me be the first to say I had no
clue why the hell people would buy them.

But my uncle had somehow hit it big, and he wasn’t afraid to
live large. Therefore, they could have any experienced photographer at their
holiday party, and the fact that they wanted me was kind of a compliment. But I
hadn’t really spoken to them since the accident with my parents…

Kyle swiped a few fries from my plate. “I see you got your
shoestrings back.” He laughed unnecessarily loud at his stupid joke. I chose to
ignore the comment. He continued asking questions about my last few months
spent in a mental clinic to ‘regroup.’ “Come on. Tell me what it was like
there. Was it like that one movie with Jack Nicholson?
One Flew Over The
Cuckoo’s Nest
?”

“Fuck you, ass. It turned out to be a nice place. There were
actually a lot of nice people there. I met Jesus.”

He choked on the water trying to go down his throat. I got a
laugh out of that. “Excuse me. What?”

I looked at him as if he were crazed. “You know, Jesus?
Jesus Christ? Really down to earth guy. Deep, too.” I pulled out the stress
ball in my pocket and showed it to Kyle. “He actually gave me this to help me
deal with my issues.”

Kyle was becoming uncomfortable as I watched him shift
around in his chair. It wasn’t surprising—anything that wasn’t money or sex
made Kyle uncomfortable. “We should really talk about the next steps for you.
How to rebuild your image after this small mishap.”

I agreed 100%. I emailed him earlier with a road map of what
I wanted to do. He hadn’t mentioned anything about it, so I figured I should
bring it up. “What do you think of my idea?”

“I think it's fucking ridiculous. That's what you get for
being around other crazies for so long.” After spending time in the clinic,
Kyle assumed my new idea was the wacky medicines wearing off. “So as I said
before, we should talk about the next steps.”

I informed him I didn’t want to talk about
his
next
steps for me, but he didn’t care. “Cooper, you are at the top of your career!
This little slip up isn’t stopping people from wanting to work with you! BIG
people! Our type of people! You make millions each year, and there’s no reason
for that to change.”