Winter Blues (12 page)

18

Reid

I’m frozen in a shell of denial. Locked within the confines of my car while lord knows what is playing out in there. I contemplate going and finding them in the a
ct, interrupting them, but I don’t want any more of a visual than I already have. Besides, I think some deluded part of me is still clinging onto the hope that this is all in my head.

That hope is shot point blank in the chest and left in the street to die when I see Darlene leave
The Nest
with Blue’s arms wrapped around her. His poisonous lips are at her neck and she’s giggling as they turn the corner. I should follow them, I should call them out on this, but the force of what I have just witnessed has welded me into my seat.

She was giggling
.

I can’t remember the last time I heard her giggling.

I throw my head back against the headrest as I work through what I have just seen. It’s no use. I can’t see anything but red. I get out of the car, slamming the door with effortless aggression. I walk in the opposite direction to them, pounding the pavement with heavy steps until my prayers are answered and I find a bar.

Midnight has been and gone and so the bar is quiet. Not that I care. They have alcohol and that is exactly what I need. I need it to clear my clouded mind, ease the tension that is shackled to my entire body, or maybe just to knock me out so that I can find some relief in sleeping.

“Whiskey and lot’s of it,” I say, slamming down a fifty on the bar and taking a seat. The bartender doesn’t question it. Filling my glass with two fingers of whiskey and leaving the bottle close by.

I flinch at the sound of country music rattling through the speakers. When I look around it looks as though I have stepped right into Darlene’s Texan dream. Fucking great.

Time begins to blur and I start to measure it in how many glasses I have drank. Around the seventh I have found the courage to go and confront Darlene.

The walk home is long and staggered but it gives me the time to work on what I’m going to say. I’m going to try not to call her bitch, for one. Then I’m going to tell her to leave. No, I can’t do that because she’d go straight to him and the thought of her in his arms makes me feel sicker than another glass of whiskey would.

I’m going to tell her that she is never to see him again. Not if she wants to remain part of this marriage. What if she doesn’t though?

Oh, God
.

I lean against a wall, prepared to hurl as the prospect of her leaving me rattles around my aching head. I hold it in, making it the rest of the way home without even remembering how I did it.

The apartment is dark, cold and uninviting when I finally manage to unlock the door. I turn on the light, thinking that I will find Darlene curled up in her chair. She’s not. Then I remember that she still thinks I’m not due home until tomorrow. I guess she has been making use of the bed.

Oh shit. Is he in there with her?!

Racing down the hall, the red haze back and burning brighter than it ever has, I clench my fists in preparation for the oncoming fight. Opening the door with as much restraint as I can, I scan the bedroom for the pair…

…
but all I find is Darlene.

She’s curl
ed up in our bed. On
my
side of the bed.

She’s wearing
my
t-shirt. The last t-shirt I wore here.

And h
er arms are wrapped around
my
pillow.

She’s playing the role of my adoring wife as she sleeps, at least.

I want to wake her, I want to get this whole sorry mess discussed now because I know that it is only going to get harder, but there is something about her that stops me. Her features are pinched, even when the rest of her body is relaxed. Around her eyes is a little red and there is a tissue balled up next to her open hand.

Has she been crying? Does she cry, after all?

I’ve seen her cry only once in our seven years and that was at our wedding, and even then they were tears of joy and they were polite, elegant tears.

I can’t be certain that she has, but regardless, her intense vulnerability right now has me turning around and heading for the sofa. We can handle this tomorrow. I’m technically still in New York until then so I can go in late for work, if at all. I guess it depends how it all pans out. I drift into an unnatural sleep bought on by booze, looking to escape the nightmare that is my life.

Darlene

He’s here.

Why’s he here?

I wasn’t expecting him back until this evening. His hair is disheveled but that’s not unusual. What is unusual is the fact that he’s completely clothed and he stinks of booze. The only thing more potent than the harsh liquor is my ever increasing guilt. Reid’s presence before me is a stark reminder of what I am gambling by playing this sordid game with Blue. It was never easy, but confronted with Reid and everything that he represents it completely belittles my reasons for permitting this affair. I blanch at the word affair, struggling with the terminology as if that
alone is what makes the act a terrible thing.

Looking troubled, with a frown evident on his beautiful face, he stirs before relaxing back into the
sofa. I wonder if he is as affected by our problems as I am. I don’t think he’d ever resort to cheating. No, that is for the weak. But maybe whatever we are going through is eating at him too.

Feeling the need to go a little way in repenting my copious sins, I begin making breakfast.
I go all out, making Reid’s favorite omelet, laying on bacon and sausage too. I’m just making coffee when I hear him stirring. When I turn and look, he is bent over his knees, his head lodged firmly in his hands and he lets out a low groan. He’s hungover.

“Hi,” I call cheerily from the safety of the kitchen. He looks like he is going to barf any second. I may join him. All I see when I look at him is my own disgusting mistake and it’s sickening.

Turning to look at me, he groans again, as if reminded of how shitty he feels. He doesn’t even offer a smile, let alone a greeting before he stalks off to the bathroom. I’m a little bothered by his discourtesy but then I remember how I felt after my fling with tequila the other night, so I leave him be. When I hear the shower running I keep our food warm until he finishes.

Padding into the kitchen on bare feet
, he looks at me properly for the first time this morning. His jaw is tense and his smoky, green eyes are full of mystery as he regards me intently. I feel shy under such scrutiny but push through it.

“You came home early?” I ask, pointlessly.

He nods.

“I made breakfast. Your favo
rite.”

He nods again.

I’m starting to worry. Placing my hands on his chest, I recoil a touch at the rapidity of his breaths. “What’s wrong, baby?” I ask, panic creeping into my tone. His face tightens as he looks away and a shuddering breath echoes from the solid confines of his chest. Is he going to cry? Oh no, what’s happened?

My hands reach up to guide his face back to my own, stroking the roughness of his neglected jaw. Then, it dawns on me. A hand flies to my own mouth as I realize just what could cause this reaction in him. “Oh my, it’s your grandparent’s, isn’t it? Reid, what’s happened?”

His eyes finally meet mine and they soften. Shaking his head lightly, he opens his mouth to speak before closing it again. He takes a steadying breath and I prepare for the worst. “They’re fine. I’m fine. Just hungover.” He presses his forehead against mine and I relax at his words, looping my arms around him in relief.

“Jesus, Reid!
You had me scared.”

He doesn’t apologi
ze but he pulls me tighter, wrapping his arms around me as if we have been apart for months rather than days. I guess, in some respects, we have. I’m still a little confused with his demeanor but I can’t deny how happy being in these arms makes me. I breathe in his freshly showered scent and feel a lump form in the pit of my throat. I’ve missed this so much.

“Our breakfast will be getting cold,” I mumble into his shirt. He pulls away, nodding, before he takes a seat at the dining table. I suddenly feel quite alone without his warm body pressed against mine so I make quick work of getting breakfast and coffee to the table.

We eat in an awkward silence. Reid tries his best with his food but I guess he’s still feeling a little nauseous. His head hangs low throughout breakfast as he toys with the food on his plate. He looks completely disinterested, in both his meal and me.

“
When do you need to be at work?” I ask, hopeful.

He shrugs. Oh, why is he being difficult?

I try again. “I was thinking, maybe now that this deal with Clarks is done, we could go away this weekend? Ya’ know, like we planned before?”

He stops rolling his food and looks at me. He regards me coldly for several l
ong seconds then gets up from the table. He’s collecting his things from before him when he tells me, “It’s not going to happen. I’m still busy with work and I don’t think it’s...
practical
going away right now.”

“What about next week? I’m sure we could both use a break.”

“What do you need a break from exactly?” he snaps. “You’re not busy. You’re hardly in demand, right?” His words are mean and cold but they don’t even compare to what I find in his eyes. I begin to stutter a response but he walks out, leaving me with an internal chill.

Any hope that I had in working through this itch is dwindling fast. I can see it dimming before my eyes like the very candles of this table. My belief that we have the strength to fight this is flying away like a startled bird. Faith in a relationship can only be present when both parties want the same thing. It doesn’t look like we do. I know my actions of late haven’t exactly proven my devotion to us, but I still believed that eventually we would recover. How can we recover when both of us have given up in one way or the other?

The lump in my throat is back and my eyes burn with their traitorous tears. I draw my knees up onto the chair and wrap my arms around them in a desperate attempt to find comfort. Last night was the first time I have cried in years and it appears the gates have been opened and they have yet to shut. Either that or my life has grown so pitiful that tears are going to be a standard part of it from here on in.

As they fall from my eyes I swipe the tears awa
y but it’s too late. Reid is standing, facing me with a look of disbelief that only makes me cry harder, and swipe harder.

“Why do you look so surprised? With enough pressure behind it the dam was bound to eventually break,” I bite, rolling my palm up my nose to wipe in the most unladylike of ways.

“Why now though?” he asks, recovered enough from the shock to blast me with his steely stare.

“Because you’re so cold, Reid!
You’re so cold you’re winter. I feel like I’m lost in the longest winter ever and spring is nowhere in sight. I’ve lost all sense of who I am by moving here to be with you, but now I’m losing you too. I’ve been holding onto the hope that we’ll make it through this, but day by day that hope is thinning and now, now I feel like we’re down to the last thread. I don’t think I’m strong enough to watch it break.” I stifle a sob as it implodes in my chest, holding it in with my hand fixed tight over my mouth. Needing to do something, anything, I take a deep breath and proceed to take my plate and mug into the kitchen, sliding past Reid as he stands there in a daze.

“Is this all my fault?”
he asks, his voice weak.

“No, Reid, it’s nobody’s fault. Or maybe it’s my fault. I don’t...Oh, Reid, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

The painful sobs are uncontrollable as they seize every part of me. I cover my face before sinking to the cold floor of the kitchen. I just want to curl up into a ball and teleport myself across the country, turning back the clock on the way.

“I didn’t reali
ze you felt like that, not to that extent anyway,” Reid says, as he slowly steps closer. “I guess I never truly took into account how hard this was for you. I’m s...”

“No, please, I don’t want to hear you apologi
ze. I couldn’t bear it.” I look up at him to shake my head but he’s falling to his knees before me. He shuffles closer so that he is eye level with me and I see my own upset reflected in him. His eyes are glossy with unshed tears and his jaw is twitching with contained emotions.

“I need to get out
of here. I just need a time out for a minute. But, please, promise me that you won’t break the thread while I’m gone.” His voice is a mere whisper, but it shoots right through my heart. I hold back another stream of tears until Reid has left, his running shoes in hand.

19

Reid

I pound the pavement harder, faster
, than I normally would, needing to burn off the hangover, the energy, the upset. I had to get out of that apartment before I fell apart in such a fashion that it would have been impossible to piece me back together again. I’ve never felt emotion like that before. I mean, I
physically
felt them. A weight hung in my chest making it almost impossible to breathe. My legs were weak as all of my strength was contained in holding it together. I felt sick to the point where I could taste it. I can’t even attribute these feelings to one thing. They are the combination of a dozen things, all resulting in my world falling apart.

I found it almost impossible to look at Darlene this morning because I was so goddamn angry with her, and then the anger cowered away. She smiled and I felt like she had pulled out my heart, held it in her hands and kissed it, reminding me that she owned it no matter what.

Then to see her cry…

God
.

I’d have preferred a crippling kick to the gut. It was the most painful thing I have ever experienced, and that pain doubled when I reali
zed that I had caused the tears. I knew that I’d neglected her somewhat but I had ignored the responsibility under the belief that I had to because of work. I shouldered her with the majority of the blame because she was the one making it so difficult, when all along she was struggling. I should have seen, or we should have at least been in a place where she was able to tell me how she was feeling. But I guess the less she saw me the less comfortable she was in admitting her upset, especially when I know how terrible she felt at not being able to find a job.

However, even if I can understand the decline of our relationship does that mean that I can accept her infidelity? The thought of her leaving is unbearable, something I’m not willing to let happen. So I have to confront her. And then what? She’ll choose me because it is the decent thing to do. She won’t be basing her decision on what she really wants but what seven years toge
ther dictates she should do. So if she chooses me how will I know that she won’t be tempted to leave again?

If her love for me is waning then someone even more tempting than Blue might pull her away for good. I don’t want her choosing me out of duty, but because she loves me more than she has ever loved anyone, because she can’t imagine being without me, because it would tear her apart to sleep anywhere other than our bed.

I need her to feel how she felt before we entered winter. I need to find spring so that I can guide us back into the sun. I need to win her back without resorting to guilt. I need her to see that I am the best thing for her and that my love for her excels anyone else’s.

And when I’m sure of her love, of our love, I’ll tell her to choose.

I’m burning from exertion rather than anger by the time I head back. I’m prepared for what is going to be the first step of a long climb, but damn, the view will be amazing. To get back what we once had will be worth this heartache, it will be worth the effort to come and it will be something to be proud of.

In times gone by we were the couple that everyone was jealous of. We were so obviously in love and so undeniably tied to each other that it just made sense to seal that love with marriage. Nobody thought that a marriage born out of a college fling would ever survive, but we proved them all wrong.

We will prove them wrong again.

I want back that insane passion and uncontrollable thirst that I had for Darlene, and more than anything else, I want her to feel the same way. 
             

The apartment is quiet when I
get back, but I know exactly where to find Darlene. Sitting in her chair with her knees bent under her chin. She diverts her eyes from the grand window to present me with the most honest look of dejection I have ever seen. Her reflective blue eyes are burnt pink and her cheeks are flushed. Wet hair hangs forlornly on either side of her face, dragging her features into a gloomy shadow. She regards me cautiously as I make my way to her. I’m equally as cautious. I’m resolute in my decision to win her back but I’m unsure that she’s going to let me.

Silently, I take a seat on the coffee table before her. She straightens up, bringing her feet to the floor. Our knees almost touching and our eyes locked in a wordless exchange, we stay this way for some time before I stop over
-thinking what needs to be said and just go with my gut.

Lifting my hand, I hold it upright between us. Immediately she seems to relax. Much to my relief, she does the same with hers, bringing them together with a little reminiscent sigh.

We don’t do pinkie promises. Pinkies are the smallest, most insignificant part of the hand. When we make a promise, it is with everything.

Skin to skin, our palms and fingers sit. “I can’t promise that you won’t have to face any problems again, but I can promise that you won’t have to face them alone. I’m going to be there every step of the way with you, if you’ll let me. Promise me that you won’t give up on us and that you’ll accept my love and learn to love me again.”

Shaking her head, she shuffles forward a little. “I do love you, Reid, that’s not the issue.”

“Promise me,” I insist, not believing anything other than our kissing hands.

Exhaling heavily, she confirms, “I promise.”

As if on cue, my phone calls from the other room, alerting me to the fact that work will have to factor into our promises, but it won’t dictate our marriage anymore. Of that I will make certain.

Closing my fingers around Darlene’s, I bring our enclosed hands to my mouth, breathing through our fingers as I relax in the feel of her skin against my lips. “I’m going to go into work this afternoon, but when I get back it’s going to be as if the last few months have never been. Deal?” She nods her head and I can see that she’s working hard to curtail her emotions.

She fails.

A single tear rolls down her face. I pull us together before taking her head in my hands. I kiss away the tear and make a secret promise to myself that I will never again make her cry.

The faintest trace of hope accompanies me to work despite the heaviness that sits on my chest. I’m still hurting from the discovery of her...affair, but I have to believe that after this morning’s promise we can move on from it. Our problems are not behind us but they are at least out in the open where they can be studied and resolved. I am happy in the belief that we can make this work, and that above all else, Darlene wants to make it work. She hasn’t just given up.

I acted
on my own promise to ascertain a deduction off my working hours by speaking with senior management today. I explained that in order to perform at my best I needed to feel my best and with my work life intruding so much on my marriage I was beginning to struggle. I walked away with not only an agreement to compromise on hours but also the promise of securing me an assistant to help with the workload. I’ve never had an assistant in my life! I guess bringing in some big names has granted me more stature than I thought.

Stepping into my office
, feeling encouraged after said meeting, I find a text message from Darlene awaiting me.

-I forgot to tell you. I’ll be going out tonight with a friend. I won’t be late though. Promise x-

My phone is almost victim to a head on collision when I fight the urge to throw it at the wall. I want to believe that her text message is exactly how it is, but knowing what I know I can’t help but believe that it is a feeble excuse for time with him.

Blue
.

I hate how she signs off with a promise.

She clearly knows nothing of the word.