Waking Charley Vaughan (3 page)

“I have to go,” was all I could say. I hated that the words came out sounding like a question. I needed force, but I had none. There were so many emotions going on inside of me that I couldn’t successfully process any of them. The only recognizable feeling was the deep desire to vomit. I hadn’t eaten enough to actually do it, but I could tell my body wanted to.

I could not let myself cry. I allowed only that fact to be my focus. I would not focus on my fiancé, the restaurant full of people, or the dissolution of the future I’d been mentally planning for so long. 

“Wait,” he pleaded as he grabbed my arm. I tried to pull it away but he was stronger than I was. I couldn’t break free.

Matt-- a tall, sturdy man with a handsome face-- just stood there with his deep blue eyes locking onto mine. They were almost pleading, but more than anything, they were embarrassed.

“Did you sleep with her?” I tried to make my voice sound stronger—somehow fierce, but instead, it gave away every bit of weakness and shock I was feeling at that moment.

As I waited for him to answer me, I remember thinking about how ugly he looked. The man whose beautiful blue eyes and bright, dimpled smile had once made it difficult for me to even form words in his presence, looked so weak—so pathetic—that it was hard to even remember how it used to feel to look at him. The drunken butterflies that had once danced in my stomach had been hit with a paralyzing sobriety. I stood there, staring at him, waiting to hear something—anything that could change the way I felt.

“I messed up” is what he finally said. His tone was sadly earnest. “I messed up so big, and I am so sorry.” I could see the sheen of tears filling his eyes.

I glared at him, my vision going red. I hadn’t needed him to answer my question, but when he did, fury, pain, and what felt like raw heat surged through my body.

“You’re damn right you messed up,” I sputtered, not even loud enough for him to hear me. I wanted to scream the words at him until my voice gave out, but I didn’t have the energy. I wish it had been some internal strength—some sense of being the bigger, better person that stopped me from screaming at him right there in front of a restaurant full of people, but it wasn’t. It was the shock of it all that stopped me from making a scene. More than that, it was the crippling fear eating away inside of me. The voice in my head, telling me that this was my fault:
my mother’s voice.
I didn’t know how to respond, so I said nothing.

“Babe,” he cleared his throat. I could see this was hard for him. It was difficult to have to address such an embarrassing issue in front of so many people. Image was everything to Matt Anderson, and I knew he was trying to figure out how to spin this so he could look better. Normally, I would help him. I was always good for offering a defense to something mean he’d said, or some important thing of mine he’d forgotten. I couldn’t bring myself to defend him then.

Let him suffer,
I thought bitterly.

“Babe, I am so sorry. You have to let me explain. This wasn’t how you deserved to find out. I never wanted it to be like this. I didn’t want it to even happen in the first place.” With that, Kelly’s face took on an indignant expression. He had hurt her feelings. She didn’t seem to care that she had slept with my fiancé, but she was hurt that he hadn’t stood by her or said he was glad he had done it.

“I don’t have to let you do anything,” my voice was colder, but still weak. My eyes bore into his. “I hope she was worth it,” I said softly. “I hope she was worth losing someone who loved you.”

“You’re angry, okay. I get that. But don’t be so dramatic.” He kept looking around at the other patrons. We were very much making a scene, and I could tell he was uncomfortable. “Don’t start using
love
in the past tense. You can’t just throw everything away within minutes of finding out. You need to think about it. You’ll change your mind. You can forgive me. ” There was a note of hope in that last part, almost as if he was asking. I stared at him, making a conscious effort to keep my face blank.

“Charley,” he said in a low, sing-song tone as he stepped closer to me. He took my hand into his, but I pulled it away fiercely, placing my hand on my scarf instead. 

The room was silent as I stepped back from him once more. Despite my efforts, my eyes were so full of tears that everything in front of me was a blur. One blink and the dam would be broken. I wouldn’t let him see that-- not this time.

I headed for the front door of the restaurant. Matt didn’t follow me out. He didn’t try to chase me then, but I knew he would be at my apartment later. He’d be full of apologies, and full of reasons that I should forgive him. And, like an idiot, I would fall for it. I always did.

I stood in front of the restaurant for a minute, a steady stream of tears flowing down my cheeks. I heard the door to the restaurant open and close, and footsteps behind me. I froze.

“Charley?”

I exhaled. The voice belonged to Sara. I turned to face her, making no effort to hide the tears. “How long has he been cheating on me?” I cried.

She walked closer to me and held her arms out. My lip quivered, and I took a deep breath before collapsing into Sara’s arms and sobbing. In a short time, I achieved the type of sob a petulant toddler reaches after a massive tantrum. This left me sniffling uncontrollably at random intervals.  After a minute or two of this, I pulled back and looked up at her. “I need to get out of here,” my voice still sounded as if I were crying.

Sara looked at me, and I felt even worse. Her eyes were full of pity. I had hoped to avoid this look. It was why I had rushed out so quickly, and yet, here I was; and Sara was looking down at me with a look that said, “Poor, Poor Charley”. I hated that look, but if it had to come from someone, I could handle it most from Sara.

“Let’s go,” she said sternly, placing one arm around me as we walked toward her car. On the way to hers, I noticed what had been responsible for her initial mood change. Matt’s car was parked just a few spots away from Sara’s. His was easy to recognize because of all of the personalization he’d done. His shiny, too large wheels were always what let me know I was looking at his car. I peered down at the chrome wheels, remembering the day he’d bought them. He’d been two hours late to my birthday dinner because he had been driving around showing off the new, thousand dollar wheels to all of his friends.

If I had been paying attention back then, those wheels could have been my warning to keep away from a guy like Matt. If I’d been paying attention tonight, they could have warned me that I was about to get my heart stomped on.

“Stupid wheels,” I muttered.

Sara gave me a slight push, encouraging me to move forward and toward her car.

As we walked, I watched as the street lights cast our shadows onto the pavement. Sara’s was long and fluid, just like her real body. In the shadows, our height difference seemed so small. I stood there watching our pavement twins, wishing I could trade places with mine. Beautiful, and graceful, sprawled across the parking lot—free from the agony of being flesh and blood.

Sara’s Honda beeped loudly in response to her key FOB, and it startled me out of my revelry. She gestured for me to get in before she slid into the driver's side seat and started the car. Once I was settled inside and the seat warmers had kicked in, I realized how cold I had been while standing outside.

Sara pulled the car onto the street and headed toward my apartment. Before I could react, she started in. “Okay,” she breathed, and began rapidly, “My brother is an idiot. I had no idea. I swear! I mean, I saw his car, and that’s why I was distracted. I honestly thought maybe he just loaned it to a friend or something. I was not expecting to see him there with that…that skank! If I’d known sooner, I would have done something. I would said
something…
”

“I know, Sara,” I cut her off. “It’s OK.” It wasn’t, but it also wasn’t her fault. I wasn’t about to take it out on her.

“I don’t really know if I should go home,” I told her. I hated to idea of staying anywhere other than my own place, but I also hated the idea of dealing with Matt tonight.

“Do you want to stay at my place?” she offered.

“I don’t know,” I told her. “Let me think about it. Either way, I need to stop at my place to get clothes and stuff.”

“Exactly what I was afraid of,” she mumbled, rolling her eyes.

As upset as I was, I couldn’t help giving her a small smile. I wondered if this would be harder on her than it was for me.

At around 10 o’clock, Sara turned the SUV onto my street, and parked in front of my building.

“Matt is my brother,” she said finally. “I love him, but I also love you, and what he did to you was wrong. You deserve better. That being said, I know you, Charley, you aren’t going to be able to move on without some closure. Eventually, you’re going to have to talk to him. Until you are ready for that, I have no problems playing bodyguard. So please don’t try to keep me out of this. It’s too late. I’m in it.”

I wasn’t really surprised she had taken my side in this. She and I had been close since that day we literally ran into one another on campus. Instead of grabbing a quick coffee, we’d spent the entire afternoon talking. It was strange to find out how much the two of us had in common.

She’d been the one to introduce me to Matt. She never really wanted me to go out with him. She told me from the beginning that he was a jerk, but I ignored her. I’d fallen in love with his kind eyes, and sweet smile from the moment I met him. Yet, some part of me had probably always seen this coming. That part of me that knew that it was too good to be true, and that guys who are jerks to everyone else, will eventually be jerks to you, too.  

I looked at my best friend and smiled weakly. “Thanks Sara,”

“Always, Midge,” she replied. “Should we go get some clothes and stuff for you?”

“Actually…” I began, and Sara sighed.

“I knew it,” she said sadly. “I knew you weren’t really going to stay at my place. Why won’t you ever let me help you?” her voice was annoyed and a little sad.

“It’s not that,” I explained. “I just think…maybe I
should
be alone right now. It’s a lot to process, and I don’t want to drag you into my crazy head right now.”

Sara rolled her eyes. “You make zero sense right now. You know he is just going to show up here.”

“I know. I don’t have to answer the door, though.”

“You will,” she said, sounding sure. She was right and we both knew it.

“I don’t know, Sara,” I sighed. “I just need to be alone for a few hours to process. Just give me a few hours to decompress. I’ll come to your house after I’ve had some time.”

This seemed to appease her slightly. We argued over details, but finally agreed upon my sleeping at her apartment for the next two nights if she would agree to give me some time alone to process the events of the night. She said she’d try to hold Matt off as long as she could.

“Thanks,” was all I said as I started to get out of her car. As I was fishing in my massive purse for my keys, Sara got out and walked around to the sidewalk where I stood. “Come here, Midge,” she said again. She wrapped me up in her long arms once more. This time my cry was shorter, and less powerful. I was already so exhausted.

“You’ll be better off,” she spoke into my hair, her chin resting on my head, “you deserve so much better. I’m just sorry you had to find that out like this.” She gave me one last squeeze before holding me out at her arm’s length.

“I better see you crashing in my guest room when I get up in the morning!” She gave me one last squeeze before she turned and headed back to the car.

              When she was gone, I took a few more seconds to breathe, and calculate my next move.

As I was calculating, a familiar song began to play, the sound emanating from the same oversized purse I’d just rescued my keys from. “Dammit,” I spat, and began digging for the phone. It was Matt’s ringtone, and if I didn’t answer, I knew he’d be there before I had time to plan my exit. I sat my bag down on the steps in front of my building and rummaged until I found the little black cell phone, still vibrating and loudly proclaiming that Stevie Wonder just called to say ‘I love you’. I rolled my eyes and pressed the “answer” on the screen.

“What?” I asked, exhausted. My voice sounded stuffy, but not weepy. I figured it could have been worse.

“Charley, we need to talk. I’m on my way over to your apartment now. We have to talk this out,” he spoke quickly, trying not to give me a chance to cut him off. I did anyway.

“Matt, I don’t want to talk about anything right now,” the thought of facing him reenergized me. I started to panic. I couldn’t face him then. Not after the humiliation, and not while I was this hurt and this angry. I needed an escape.

“It’s too late, Charley. I’m coming over. I’ll be there in ten.
Please don’t leave
!” He was upset, too. I knew he needed to talk, but I didn’t care about what he needed. Not right then. Not after what he’d done. I snatched my purse off the steps and fumbled with my keys. I needed to get in, and be out in 10 minutes. He was still talking as I ran up the stairs to my door at the top of the 3rd landing.

“Charley?” I heard Matt say in my ear. I hadn’t been listening to much that he’d said.