Damage Done (23 page)

"You're fucking with
me."

"No, I'm deadly
serious."

"But you're not
freaking out or fanning yourself or popping Valium or crying. You have to be
fucking with me."

"Jake, I'm not fucking
with you. I just gave you the short and sweet of why I wasn't at that meeting
yesterday with my mom and Neil."

She threw another chocolate in her mouth.

"So, wait. Your mother
told him you had an abortion?" he asked, leaning forward, his fingers to
his temple in distress.

"Correct. Mother told
him I had an abortion.”

“Oh my God,” he whispered,
“You were right, your mother really is the devil, I’m sorry I never believed
you. Did you tell him about Brent?”

“No."

Jake sucked in sharply and
whistled, "Rachel, why didn't you tell him what happened?"

"Because I didn't know
how to. I mean, how do you lay that much more nasty business on a man who is
watching the only son he's ever had lie hooked up to life support, waiting for
the Reaper to come and take him? When you're seeing each other for the first
time in sixteen years?"

"Holy Mary Mother of
Madonna, Rachel. This is just- what are you going to do?"

"I don't know. Kenneth
and I haven't been working for a long time, Jake.”

“No, you haven’t,” he
agreed, “But he’s the father of your children and you’ve been married for
twelve years.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious. I
don't even know what to think. I don't care right now. I'm just ready to be
happy again."

"Rachel," he began
as soon as she went quiet, "It's not going to be that easy."

"I know it's not going
to be easy, but you asked me, and I'm telling you. I don't know, Jake,"
she said defensively, "Listen. Yesterday when I went to pick up Lauren, I
didn't feel obliged to run anybody over for taking their sweet time loading
their kids in the car. I feel fine. I'm not nervous, I'm not worried. I'm sad,
yes, but I love Dylan. I've always loved Dylan. Kenneth is a wonderful father,
but he's a shitty husband. He doesn't love me, Jake."

"Rachel, that's bullshit."

"It's not
bullshit!" she yelled.

"Don't yell at me, you
slut!" he yelled back, "I'm trying to help you. You need to slow
down. You need to take more time to consider what's going on here. You've been
married for twelve years, Rachel."

"Look," she said,
lowering her voice, "He hasn't touched me in a year, and to be honest,
when he touched me before that, it was never that great anyway. He won't talk
to me, he doesn't even look at me, our marriage is over. And for sixteen years
I've thought that the one man I really loved, the first man I ever loved, left
me and I've hated him for it. And I've wondered what was wrong with me that I
could never forget him, never let him go. I thought I was crazy for thinking we
had this special thing, I thought- "

She started crying, she didn't want to cry, "I thought
it was me, I thought he never loved me, and that I was just this stupid girl he
fucked and left because he got me pregnant. And now here he is telling me it
wasn't just me, it was real, that I'm not crazy. Don't I deserve to have that
back? Am I supposed to walk away from that? What am I supposed to do,
Jake?" she yelled, "Tell me what I'm supposed to do!"

Jake walked around to sit on
her desk, "I'm sorry, Honey. You know I'm here for you, no matter what.
But you need some more time to think over what's happening here. You can't just
reshuffle your life because you had coffee and sex with an old boyfriend."

"It's not just
that," she sniffled, "I'm serious, Jake. My marriage is over. And I'm
sad about it, but it's just a fact. It's been over for a long time. And I can't
let go of Dylan, I just can't. Every part of me knows that he's supposed to be
in my life. But I'm not in a hurry. I know I need to put myself first. To be
honest, right now I'm more concerned about my kids and about how I'm going to
confront my mother and Jameson."

"And what about
Kenneth?"

"Kenneth is strong, he
will be fine."

"Maybe down the road,
but you have no idea how long it will take for him to recover. He's not going
to take this well, Rachel."

 "Maybe he won't, and
I'll have to deal with that. But you have got to support me. You're the only
person who understands that I never loved him the way he wanted me to. You've
got to support me in this, Jake."

"Fine. But slow down,
killer," he said, waving his hands, "We'll deal with your marital
suicide later. First things first. You've been itching to dump this gala on me
for weeks, so let's get that out of the way. Now ask me nicely. Say, 'Jake, I
really need you to put your Oscar worthy event coordinating skills to good use.
Save my ass, be my superhero. Take over the fundraising gala.' Say all of those
things and then I want you to kiss my boot."

She laughed and reached for
a tissue to wipe her nose, "I don't know what I'd do without you, Jake,
please take over and put your superdiva party planning skills to good use,
dearest arrogant, borderline narcissistic best friend of mine."

She grabbed both of his
hands to kiss them.

"Ewwww," he said,
pulling away, "You've got boogers all over you! Go wash your face, and
then go home. You need to talk to your husband. Tell him you're spending the
weekend in Gretna, you need some time to figure this shit out. If he tells you
he has to work, then Mark and I will take the kids to Six Flags or something. I
need to see how he handles the little demons anyway before we get much more
serious."

"I love you, Jake.
Truly. You're an angel, I don't deserve you."

"Hey, go wash your
face. You save me every now and again, I can return the favor just this once."

***

It was Friday, she hadn’t
heard from Dylan, and she hadn’t told Kenneth she was going to Gretna for the
weekend. She'd need more time to solve the riddles of her unhappy marriage. And
more time to balance being a mother to children who were healthy and well while
Dylan faced losing the only child he'd ever had. Rachel was still a master at
compartmentalizing, at putting things in the back of her mind to deal with
later. She needed to go home and load her stuff in the car, and she wanted to
stop and buy some new paints, it was time to find herself again. Her cell rang
on her desk.

"Kenneth, are you okay?"

"Yes."

"What's going on?"

He still hadn’t told her about the paperwork he’d been
served, and she wasn’t sure she cared, but something had to have been wrong for
him to be calling her.

"Nothing, I
’m going out with Max later, I can’t find my wallet.”

“And you’re calling me
because?”

“Have you seen it?” he asked.

“No, I haven’t,” she said,
and gathering her courage, “Listen, what was that paperwork Henry Lowe brought
you?”

“Just crap with work, I've
got to submit an affidavit about what happened that night at the game."

"Is it a civil suit?"

"No, it's just the
licensing review board, I think it's just a formality because I wasn't on the
clock. I've got to talk to a lawyer."

"Alright," she
hesitated, "So, can I do anything? Do you want me to have Jerry call you?"

"I don't fucking know,
Rachel, yes, have him call me," he said, annoyed, "Or just text me
his number, I'll call him."

She knew he was under more stress than usual, and he'd been
cold and distant for a long time now, but his attitude lately had just gotten
more and more impatient and uncivil. She was tired of pretending she didn't
notice.

"Fine, Kenneth. I'll
text it to you. I'm going to Jake's house in Gretna this weekend, are you on
call or will you be home to be with the kids?"

"Are you serious?
You're going out of town and leaving me and the kids?"

"Yes."

"Fine, whatever. Yes,
I'm on call, but I'll get it covered."

"You don't have to do
that, Jake offered to keep the kids."

"So Jake isn't even
going to be there? That's awesome, Rachel."

"Yeah, it is awesome.
So I'll tell Jake to keep the kids. See you Monday."

She hung up feeling a lot
less guilty about having fucked her old boyfriend and wanting a divorce,
wishing she'd been assertive enough to walk away years ago. But then she
wouldn't have had Lauren, or maybe even Hunter, and she couldn't imagine what
her life would have been like without them. They had to be her focus.

***

The pressure was lifted from
having to worry about the gala, and she needed to concentrate on how to
minimize the damage to the kids as she prepared to pursue a divorce. She was
angry she hadn't considered it before, that it had taken Dylan coming back for
her to put that card on the table. It wasn't fair to Kenneth, or the kids. Her
father's affair had destroyed her, and she'd sworn to protect her kids from
that kind of heartache. She was a walking cliche' of a woman trapped in the
divorce cycle after vowing bitterly never to repeat her parent's mistakes.

It was too late to confront
her father, but she'd need to confront Savannah, if for no other reason than to
cut her out of her life, to protect her kids from falling victim to her
mother's diabolical bullshit.

She was eager to get to Gretna that afternoon. After she'd
stopped for some new art supplies and thrown her stuff in a beach bag, she
pulled off the gravel driveway and texted Dylan.

Going to Jake's house in
Gretna. Need time.

She stopped at a little
farmer's market on the way out and grabbed some eggs and produce, a few things
to make a salad. There was no telling what Jake may have out there, the house
stayed unoccupied most of the time. A nice old man worked the register and
helped her pick through the tomatoes, chatting about the weather, he wished
they'd had more rain over the summer.

Rachel listened to him talk
about the impact of the drought on Texas agriculture and found herself
wondering if he'd ever lied to his children or deceived someone he loved. Was
he an honest man? Had he ever been in love? Broken a heart? Maybe he was a vet.
Maybe he'd left some young lover pregnant in a time of war and hurried home to
the wife who waited patiently for him to finish out his tour. Had he ever told
his wife? Had they ever heard from the child he'd fathered?

He put her supplies in a
large brown paper sack and smiled as he wished her a pleasant afternoon. She
pulled away still fantasizing about what his life must have been like. How many
other women get lost in themselves thinking about the lives of total strangers,
unable to focus on their own? She had to stop finding excuses not to make
decisions or hold herself accountable.

An hour later, she pulled
onto the narrow dirt drive and began the long trip from the road to the house,
winding along the driveway shadowed by pine trees until the sun finally
reappeared and the enormous country getaway came into sight.

Jake's grandfather built the home for his new wife in the
early fifties, a time when modernism had been the new trend, but he'd had a
love for classic architecture and preferred the timeless appeal of this French
Acadian behemoth.

Carefully planned
wildflowers swept over the cobblestone sidewalks, and lilacs hung low from
their baskets below the windows stretching across the house. The hydrangeas
were finally succumbing to the fall, but a landscaper must have been out
recently, the gardens were still well manicured.

She grabbed the beach bag and the paper sack of supplies,
making her way up the stone sidewalk towards the front door. She set it all
down when she hit the porch and dug around in the large potted jasmine for the
tin box with the key. She'd only been out here a handful of times, she set her
bags on the counter in the kitchen and made her way around the rooms, flipping
on a few lights and familiarizing herself with everything.

Rachel had two immediate goals, the wine rack and the
antique record player.

The wine rack was easy
enough, she settled on a trusty pinot, but had to dig around for a corkscrew.
There was one hiding in the back of a drawer and she set the open bottle on the
counter to breathe while she made her way into the living area where she'd seen
the music console, a vintage mahogany cabinet made sometime in the fifties, a
huge heavy piece. She lifted the lid hiding the record player and carefully
blew inside to get rid of any dust that may have made its way in. There was no
need. The entire house was immaculate. She sifted through the shelf filled with
old albums and 45's, lingering over a few before deciding on an old Roy Orbison
album her father had loved.

Roy's voice filled the room,
singing about dreams and lost loves, and she poured a glass of wine thinking it
was a bad choice. She hadn't wanted to reflect on any more time past, she needed
to look forward, not back. But she stuck with it anyway, and rinsed and
prepared her fresh vegetables while she tried to relax, forcing her mind to
slow.