Damage Done (28 page)

"Mom!" he begged,
"God, can't it wait until we get home? I missed you, too, geez."

He strapped himself in and she relented, instead reaching
over to tousle his hair and squeeze his hand where she knew his little friends
wouldn't witness it.

"How was your day,
bud?"

"It was alright, but
Mom, you know that boy who got hurt at the football game and the helicopter
came and picked him up, did you know that he's going to die?"

"Where did you hear
that?"

"Ethan's mom told him
that Daddy couldn't save him and that he's on a machine, but they're going to
unplug it," Hunter rushed, his face a maze of emotions.

She turned to watch the road, hoping he hadn't sensed the
anger she felt over her children being brought into adult conversations. It was
her job to expose her children to these subjects in a safe and healthy way, and
now she'd missed her window.

Another consequence of procrastinating and putting off
things that made her anxious.

"Yes, buddy, I did
know. Daddy tried really hard to do everything he could to help him, but
sometimes no matter how much we want to make everything better, sometimes we
don't have the tools or the power to fix what's broken. And I'm sorry you had
to hear about it from Ethan, do you have any questions you would like to ask me
about it?"

"Well, why is he going
to die?"

"Your dad died!"
Lauren interjected, eager to have a place in the conversation and still too
young to understand the concept of death.

All she'd known of death were the stories she'd heard about
Rachel's father, about the house and his leaving it for them before he went to
Heaven. That, and what she knew about the neighbor's cat getting run over a few
months earlier, which had ended in an epic toddler meltdown.

"Yes, Lauren, my dad
died and went to Heaven," Rachel said with as much normalcy as she could
manage before returning to Hunter and the confusion he must be feeling over
adult topics being discussed in the school yard.

She should have prepared for this.

"His body just wasn't
strong enough, bud, and his brain isn't working anymore. Sometimes our bodies
don't always know how to fix themselves, and that little boy," she slowed
to stop from choking up, and wiped the tears making their way down her face.

Rachel renewed her strength so her kids wouldn't feel
afraid or worry about why their mother was so affected, "Michael is that
boy's name, and Michael was just too hurt, bud, so his body can't fix him. So
he's going to go to Heaven soon."

Hunter took in everything
she'd said and he turned to look out at the trees passing by the window,
silent. She'd never been churchy, they hadn't given their kids a lot of
religion because they weren't really believers themselves. But she understood
that children needed to feel safe, to feel like there was a power greater than
themselves that could protect them and give them comfort. And she didn't have
any other answers.

"Do you have any other
questions about it, Hunter? It's okay to have questions and to feel confused or
sad about it."

"Well, I mean," he
stammered, turning to look at her again as she drove towards their home, the
home she would soon destroy in order to start her life over again, and then he
asked, "but what if Michael isn't ready to go to Heaven? Won't he miss his
mom and dad?"

***

She’d worked all day to gather
her courage, a Saturday spent cleaning the house and playing tea party with
Lauren. She wanted Dylan. And she wanted Kenneth to smile again, to be happy.
Even if that meant his being with someone else, there was somebody out there
who could be for Kenneth what he needed them to be.

He deserved to be loved in that surreal and nameless way,
it wasn't any fairer for him to settle than it was for her. It had been more
than two weeks since she’d seen Dylan, she wouldn’t wait any longer.

She waited in the kitchen for him after the kids had fallen
asleep, he finally came in from work and walked quietly to the fridge, pulling
out something to drink.

“I need to say this and I
don't want to argue or fight,” she told Kenneth, “I want a divorce.”

She sat shaking in her
chair, watching her pen draw nervously on the paper as she waited for him to
say something, but he hadn't. She forced herself to look up at him, and he took
a long pull from the soda bottle, watching her from the fridge.

“I want you to stay here as
long as you need to, until we figure out the details,” she continued, “And I
won’t ask you for anything. I want you to have the kids as often as you want,
we need to make it an easy transition for Hunter and Lauren. I want to tell
them together.”

He reached into the fridge
and set the soda on the shelf, searching for something else so he wouldn’t have
to look at her.

“Kenneth, say something.”

"I thought you said you
didn't want to argue or fight," he said, "What else is there to
say?"

He left with his apple then,
walked quietly down the hall to his room and shut the door, leaving her to her
shaking pen and her fear that she'd handled it the wrong way.

Her cell rang and she stood to dig it out of her purse.

“Did you hear?” Sarah asked,
“They took him off the life support.”

“I’ll call you back.”

Rachel hung up, staring at
the bottle of unopened wine. She grabbed her purse and flew out the door.

***

The doorman let her upstairs
and she banged on the apartment door, wishing she’d changed before she came,
she was still wearing the strapless summer dress she’d worn around the house
all day.

The radio blared inside, it took ages for him to come to
the door. Dylan threw the door open, bare chested, his hair hanging limply
around his face. He held a glass in his free hand, and stood unblinking as he
stared at her.

"Well, if it isn't the
girl who ruined my life,
” he laughed,
“Come on in, Rachel, I'm having a party!"

"Dylan, are you
alright?" she asked, stepping inside hesitantly.

She set her purse on the table
and followed him into the living room, it was cluttered with beer bottles.

“Dylan, I’m sorry about
Michael.”

“No!” he yelled, “You don’t
get to talk to me about Michael!”

She reached nervously for
the rubberband on her wrist, popping it several times and then reaching to pull
her hair into a ponytail. She had no reason to be nervous, this was Dylan. He
wouldn't hurt her.

 He set his bottle down next to the chair and walked
towards her.

"Stop!" he yelled,
"Don't do that! You're not allowed to come in here, dressed in that, and
tease me all seductively, reaching up to let your hair fall down or whatever
you're doing."

She wanted to support him,
but he was drunk, she turned to leave, "You're drunk. We'll talk tomorrow."

"Oh no, no, no,"
he said, reaching quickly for her arm to stop her, "I am drunk, but you’re
the one who showed up, so let's talk, Rachel, come in here and sit with
me."

"Dylan, let's not do
this when you
’ve been drinking, please.
I'm tired, I only wanted to see if you were okay."

He stared down at her, the
smell of alcohol heavy on his breath. She stared back defiantly, determined to
leave and continue this conversation when his head wasn't clouded with liquor
and grief.

"No, pussycat, we'll do
it now. Come sit, I've saved the best seat in the house for you," he said,
leaning over and picking her up with ease, as if to carry her over the
threshold.

He sat with a thud on his leather sofa and held her in his
lap, draping an arm across her legs to keep her from leaving.

"Dylan," she said,
annoyed, "This isn't you, you're drunk and hurt and angry and I
understand, but let me up so I can leave.
”

“Am I scaring you?"

"No, you're not,"
she said, "Now let me up, I'm leaving."

He settled his arms in a little tighter, his eyebrow shot
up, his head cocked to the side as he studied her face.

"No, I'm not letting
you leave. I want to ask you something."

"Just ask me already, I
want to get up."

"Why were you with that
guy in San Antonio?"

"I don't know,"
she said impatiently, this wasn’t the time to discuss it, “Because I was sad, I
needed an escape."

"Were you fucking him?"

"I didn't start fucking
him until after I thought you’d left me, Dylan. No, I wasn’t fucking him
then."

He watched her, nodded his
head, "So, you fucked him later?"

She sighed, tried to push
his hands from her waist and legs, her annoyance rising, "Goddammit,
Dylan, let me go."

"Or what?" he
laughed, "You're going to break up with me again?"

She stopped trying to break
his hold and looked into his gentle and handsome face.

"I'm sorry for hurting
you."

"No, you're not. You
blame me," he said. "You only remembered the bad between us, you
never were able to focus on the good. That's what's wrong with you, you love to
be miserable. You believed your mom because you expected bad things to happen.
And now you won't leave him to be with me, because you love to be miserable."

"That isn't true,"
she argued, "Or I wouldn
’t be
here."

"Oh, it
’s true, when things aren’t going your way, you race
off in search of an escape, right? Then you run right back to being miserable.
That guy you started fucking was an escape, right? And then you ran right back
to being miserable."

She started yelling, angry
then, pushing at his hands again to release her, "That isn't true, I wish
I had an escape, I was desperate for an escape, I was desperate for something
good that would keep me grounded and hopeful and fearless and happy. I didn
’t come here so you could treat me like shit. And you
don’t have to understand why I started fucking him, you can look at me like I
was an idiot, and judge me or hate me or whatever you want, but you have no
idea what I lived through. Yes, I fucked him! Yes, it was an escape, I did it
to forget about you, and I don’t care if it hurts you! Is that what you want to
hear?”

He released her and she
walked to leave, she stood near the kitchen shaking with anger, a lifetime of
never feeling heard bubbling to the surface at the opportunity to say all the
things she'd never had the chance to say.

She was a new woman now.

His eyes narrowed and he
bolted from the couch, then standing over her, he asked through his teeth,
"Is that why you fucked me again? To forget about your miserable life? And
when you're done you'll run back home? Am I your new escape?"

She held her breath and
considered what to say next, holding her ground in front of him as she steeled
herself to maintain control, not to cry or flee, or freeze up.

She reached up defiantly to pull her hair back into the
ponytail, recalling how he'd told her not to do it when she'd first walked in.

Rachel was done answering to him, or Kenneth, or her
mother.

"Yes, Dylan, that’s all
you are, my escape," she said cruelly, “I needed a release from the misery
and you gave it to me.”

His eyes filled with fury
and his hands went to the back of her neck, pulling her mouth to his. When she
reached up and shoved at his shoulders, he released her and she turned to
leave. But he gripped her tightly from behind, pulling her close to him, his
body crushing against hers. A strong hand found its way inside her dress to her
breast and his breath came hot in her ear.

"You need a release,
Rachel?" he growled.

"Let me go,
Dylan!" she yelled, confusion flooding her senses when her body responded
to the lust in his voice.

"You said you needed an
escape, I'm going to give it to you," he threatened, his body pressing
against her as he walked forward, pushing her towards the wall in the kitchen.

She reached out blindly to steady herself and he held her
tightly to him as he fumbled for the top of her dress.

"Dylan!" she
yelled, angry at her body's reaction to his mouth against her neck, "I
don't want to do this!"

But she did. He pressed her
hard against the wall with his weight and held her breast as he slid a rough
hand down between her legs, pushing her legs apart until his fingers found her
wet panties.

"Yes, you do," he
growled, "You're wet as fuck, stop measuring your self-respect by how you
want to get fucked, Rachel, I know your pussy, it
’s screaming for me."

The hand on her breast rose
roughly to her throat until he cupped her delicate jaw and his index finger
found its way to her mouth, settling between the soft lips. She bit hard but he
didn't flinch, her hands scrambling back to try and push him off of her. He
gripped her panties and yanked them down.

"Dylan, get your hands
off me," she said, twisting, trying to turn and face him.