His Only Wife (2 page)

Porter

Brin’s beauty lies in her simplicity. She doesn’t need makeup, a fancy hairstyle, or skintight clothing that leaves nothing to the imagination. She’s just…Brin.

Thank God.

We could walk into a room crowded with beauty queens, all slathered with makeup and stuffed into sequined ball gowns. And Brin in her thick cotton sweatshirt, those pants she calls leggings, a pair of worn leather boots, and no makeup on her face, she’d still be the most beautiful woman in the room. No contest.

“What are you thinking about?” Brin asked from the floor of our home. She sat cross-legged behind our coffee table, her fingers working a pair of scissors through a piece of construction paper. Her blond hair tumbled past her shoulders, and a laid-back smile crossed her lips as her eyes narrowed in curiosity.

As she studied me, I wondered how long I’d been daydreaming about her. Truth be told, I did that often, just stared at her, wondering how I got so ridiculously lucky. Guys like me didn’t end up with girls like Brin. It just didn’t happen.

“You.” I wiggled my eyebrows, deliberately making her uncomfortable even though my answer was completely honest, and she blushed immediately. I loved whenever her cheeks turned red. It never got old.

“No, seriously.”

“Seriously,” I insisted, leaning forward and placing my elbows on my knees. “Whatcha working on?”

“Jenny needs twenty-five leaves for the bulletin board. We’re making a giant tree to represent autumn. Each leaf will have a student’s name on it.”

“Isn’t that
her
job?” I asked, referring to the teacher Brinley assisted in the classroom. Blue Spruce Elementary had been so satisfied with Brin’s work as a study hall supervisor that they’d offered her a position this fall as a teacher’s aide. She’d been thrilled to accept the position, and was working hard to be worthy of it.

Brin raised her shoulders, the wistful smile on her lips causing a dimple to form on her cheek. I loved that freaking dimple. “I volunteered. Besides, you know I love this stuff. It keeps me busy.” She looked down, focusing her attention back on the thick orange paper.

I reached over to run my hands down her silky curls, then patted her gently on the back. “I get it. You can’t help yourself.”

“And what do you mean by that?” She placed the scissors on the table, giving me her full attention.

“You take care of everyone else. It’s what you do.”

She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “Hardly.”

Even after a year of living together in our small house, dozens of miles away from the compound, Brin still wrestled with her demons. She didn’t regret walking away from Lehi Cluff or the compound. But since the day she chose me over that life, she’d struggled with leaving her sister wives behind to pick up the pieces of her departure.

Knowing that she wasn’t completely capable of taking my compliment, I eased myself down to my knees to sit next to her. I brushed her hair from her face with one hand, pushing it to the side, then pressed my lips to her silky cheek.

“Always.”

Her eyes watered and she looked up at the ceiling, breathing in deeply to keep herself from crying. I, on the other hand, was practiced at controlling my emotions. When you were raised in a community like ours, you learned that one person’s feelings didn’t hold much water and should be swept under the proverbial rug. Unless, of course, that person was the head of the household.

We were trained to suffer in silence.

But not anymore.

Brin and I made a pact a long time ago. Brutal honesty. There would be no secrets, no things left unsaid. In the first few months living together, it led to several outbursts and arguments that lasted well into the early morning. Whenever that happened I’d sleep on the couch, clutching my sobriety chips and resisting the deep ache inside me that demanded a chemical fix to ease my pain. And once, it led me to a relapse. One I’d never quite forgiven myself for, even though Brin promised that she had.

Those first few months tested us, challenging our patience, our loyalty, and our desire to make a life together. And I’m proud to say we came out on the other side. We were together. We were happy. And we were better than ever.

“If you need to cry, it’s okay. We talked about this, no martyrs in this house.” I poked her side with my finger, knowing that if I egged her on, she’d take the bait. I knew my girl.

Brin stared at the floor, a look of guilt on her face as she spoke. “Will I ever stop feeling like this? Like I left them all behind?”

She was, of course, referring to her family—her mother, sisters, nieces, and nephews. But the pain in her eyes was for two very specific people: Aspen and Rebecca, two of the six sister wives she left behind, the two who took up a permanent space in her heart and mind. Even though Rebecca turned on her, Brinley couldn’t tear her from her heart. And Aspen, who at her own request left the Cluff family to live on another compound in Texas, was like a sister to Brin. Aspen had made contact a handful of times with Brin through letters. She and her children were adjusting to a new life with a new family. But the letters had become few and far between, and I knew that Brinley was worried Aspen had forgotten about her.

I, however, knew that was impossible. Aside from the occasional letters, I received simple text messages from Aspen, who still carried my old piece-of-shit cell phone with her. Simple texts to let us know she was thinking about us in our new life in the outside world.

“They’re grown women, every single one of them. And they’ll be just fine. You can’t save them, Brin. They have to do it for themselves.”

The pain in her eyes lessened slightly, and she leaned in to place a soft kiss on my lips.

“I know you’re right, but I just can’t get them out of my head.”

I shrugged. “Maybe you’re not supposed to.”

“You think so?”

“I do.” I nodded with confidence, running my fingers through her hair. “They were important to you, and they always will be.”

“You know who I thought of last night?” Brin wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve. When I shook my head, she said, “Jorjina. I wonder, you know, if she’s still around.”

Jorjina Black, the mother of the prophet, was an older woman Brinley had worked for in the months before she left the compound. Their friendship was inexplicable, but intense. The bond they created in their shared experiences was one that, even after everything she told me, only the two of them could ever truly understand.

“I’m sure she is. She was one tough lady.”

“That’s for sure. I just wish I knew how she’s doing.”

“Unfortunately, we don’t have a choice. Once you’re out, you’re out.” I clenched my teeth after that statement, knowing that my bluntness was sometimes hard for her, but she nodded.

“I know that, and I don’t want to be anywhere but here. You know that, right?”

I chuckled under my breath. “Of course. You can miss people from your old life. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I just feel bad, I guess. Like if I miss them, it means I love you less.”

I shook my head decisively as I ran my hand up and down her arm, trying my best to comfort her. “Nah. It just makes you human.”

Brin’s lips brushed against mine again. I’d never get tired of her kisses.

“Thank you.”

I smiled with narrowed eyes, not sure why she was thanking me. I hadn’t done anything. “For what?”

“For knowing me so well and loving me just the same.”

“I could say the same to you, couldn’t I?”

She shrugged, brushing away my question, but I wouldn’t accept that answer. Brin had stood by my side as I battled my demons, through my relapse, and she’d stand with me through all the possible relapses that could occur in the future. Her devotion and support—they kept me afloat. And her unconditional love was the greatest gift anyone had ever given me.

“Look at me, Brin.”

Her eyes locked with mine as tears welled. “I know,” she whispered.

“I’ll never stop loving you. Do you know that? No matter what this life throws at us, I will love you.”

The corners of her lips turned up, but the smile didn’t reach her forlorn eyes.

“We have to let them go,” I said softly, “but it doesn’t make us bad people. It doesn’t mean we abandoned them. We made a choice—to be together, to be happy. And that’s what they want for us. Aspen, Jorjina? They wanted nothing but for you to be happy…on your own. I promise you that.”

“I know you’re right, I do. Sometimes it’s just—”

“I know. It’s hard to let go.”

“Exactly.” Brin wiped the fresh tears from her face, soaking the cotton fabric of her sleeve. “How did I go from cutting paper leaves to sobbing all over myself?”

“It’s your secret talent, I guess.” I winked at her, rubbing her back again before reaching for the scissors and handing them to her. “I’ll let you get back to it.”

“I’m a mess, aren’t I? Thank God I don’t wear makeup. It’d be all over my face.”

Red splotches sat beneath her puffy eyes. Her sleeves were curled under her fingertips, giving her the appearance of someone much younger than her twenty-five years. Brin wore her vulnerability like a brightly colored sweater, one she pulled tight to her body. And I loved her for it.

I loved her vulnerability, those splotches on her skin. I loved that even after so much time away from the compound, her heart still ached for those she loved. I loved that her ability to love was boundless, even after all she’d been through. It was all of these things that made her Brin. It was all of these things that made her the most gorgeous person on the planet.

I leaned in and kissed her forehead. “You’ve never looked more beautiful.”

And it was the truth.

Porter

My hands gripped the worn wood of the lectern, just as they did every Tuesday evening at the local Mormon church. Don’t even get me started on how fucked up it was that my Narcotics Anonymous meeting took place in the basement of an LDS church. A place that I would never step into, if not for complete desperation in my addiction. God apparently has quite the sense of humor. If he were a human, I’d probably want to have a beer with the guy.

“My name’s Porter, and I’m an addict.” The words left my mouth quickly and without hesitation. I’d been attending meetings for more than two years.

The small crowd watching me with upturned faces replied in unison as they always did. “Hi, Porter.”

“When I first started coming here, I hated all you happy people, all of you who kicked your habit a long time ago, who came out on top of your addictions and compulsions. I never wanted to admit that I needed you. I never wanted to admit that I needed others to get clean. I thought I needed my girlfriend, my job, my house. But I didn’t think I needed you.”

I paused and took a deep breath. “After six months, though, since my relapse, I know it—I
need
you. I need all of you. Because without you, I’m not sure I’ll make it to seven months. I know some of you are sitting in your seats, thinking about getting loaded. I know that because that was me. Hell, it’s
still
me sometimes. Every time my car breaks down or I have a fight with my girlfriend, I sit in these chairs and I think about getting high. But it’s a hell of a lot better than sitting in my old apartment, loaded off my ass and thinking about getting clean.”

Applause erupted inside the room. I wasn’t looking for applause, but of course it felt good. It felt satisfying to look upon the tiny sea of faces in that church basement. My fingernails dug into the itch that taunted me from my neck.

“I, uh, I want to ask my girlfriend to marry me. I want to spend my life with her, and I’m fucking terrified, guys. If she says yes, I’ll be the happiest man on the planet, but I’ll be even more afraid of letting her down. Like that contract that binds us somehow ups the ante. And if she says no?” I paused again, feeling a chill run down my spine. “Then I know I’ll want to use. And if I use, how long will it take me to snap out of my shit and come back here? Either way, guys, I need you.”

Applause erupted again within the small space. A woman named Mae wiped tears from her eyes as she nodded and bit down on her bottom lip. She pitied me, of that I was sure. But it was more than that. She understood. She could relate because in one way or another, she’d been there herself. I’d come to depend on those looks of understanding from the members of my NA group. They understood my actions, my mistakes and screw-ups, and my desire for a better life for myself and Brin. They understood because they wanted it for themselves, as well.

“That’s all I really want to share tonight. I just—I really love her, guys. I love her and I’ll do anything to make her happy.”

I bowed my head slightly toward the group before returning to my seat. My sponsor, Jesse, patted me on the back. “Well said, son.”

At sixty-four years old, Jesse Goodman was missing several teeth, had a goatee filled with gray, and what white hair he had left could seriously use a trim. He was the kind of dude that people would cross the street to avoid. In fact, he was scary as hell. But he was also my sponsor. And a damn good one. No one had been there for me like Jesse had…

• • •

When I’d relapsed six months earlier, I’d called him from my cousin’s apartment. I had been shaking and stoned out of my fucking mind, hysterical, and totally convinced that Brin would leave me when she found out. Despite the early hour, Jesse had calmly asked me where I was and picked me up thirty minutes later.

When I managed to get my tweaked-up ass inside his car, he dug his fingers into my shoulder and peered into my eyes. “Look at me, son.” When I reluctantly met his eyes, he spoke slowly, enunciating every word. “This isn’t all that you are.”

“Yes, it is.” My gaze darted away. “I’m a fucking loser.”

“One day you’ll hear me. But until then, I’ll say it as many times as necessary.” He paused, took a breath, and spoke those words again. “This isn’t all that you are.”

I wanted to believe him. Desperately, I wanted to believe that I was more than my addiction. But I couldn’t. “Fine, okay. Whatever.”

Jesse sighed. “Let’s get you home.”

“I can’t go home. Brin, she’ll throw me out.” My eyes were wild, looking frantically at everything and nothing. Tears formed hot trails down my cheeks, and my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. I pressed them into my pockets, hoping to control them, but they twitched uncontrollably. My brain was frazzled, and since I was coming down from my high, I knew I was approaching rock bottom.

“You and I both know that’s not true. Don’t make assumptions, Porter. Now, tell me what happened. How’d you end up here?”

“We, uh, we had a fight. This morning. A big one.”

“Wanna tell me what the fight was about?” Jesse watched the road but his voice was calm, soothing, and I found myself rambling on as he drove us to my cottage.

“Just some bullshit, ya know? She gets like this sometimes when nothing I do is good enough and nothing I say is the right thing, and it’s like this fucking shame spiral. I mean, fuck, I’m not making any sense, am I?”

“You’re fine, son. Go on.”

He pulled into a Starbucks drive-through, quickly ordered me a cup of black coffee, and handed it to me before continuing to my house. I stared reproachfully at the steaming liquid in the cup I held; it was the last thing I wanted.

“It’ll help you get back to reality, Porter. Drink.”

I ran the fingers of my free hand through my scalp, again and again until my fingernails broke the skin. The pain soothed me, and slowly I took sips of the hot, bitter coffee. My nerves buzzed beneath my skin as I continued with my story about Brin.

“She’s just so perfect, ya know? I mean, for fuck’s sake, Jesse, I have no goddamn business being with a girl like that. She’s just—she’s a fucking angel.”

Jesse snickered, and without even thinking, I slapped him on the chest.

He shot me a harsh glance and lowered his voice as he said sternly, “That’s enough, son. You don’t strike me. Not in my own car.”

“Sorry, man.”

He eased his fierce expression and looked back at the road. “Tell me more.”

Tears filled my eyes as my brain focused on the one person I loved, and how terrified I was to lose her. “What if she wakes up one day and knows, man? What if she knows she can do better than a fucking junkie whose parents never loved him?”

Once the sobs began, they couldn’t be stopped. I dropped my coffee cup into the cup holder and pressed my head into my hands, screaming into the heat of my joined palms.

“She loves you, Porter.”

“And what if she stops? What then?”

He chuckled as he reached out to awkwardly pat me on the shoulder. “I ask myself that every single day. That’s how you know you’ve found the right woman—I’ve loved my wife for forty-seven years. And every single day, I’ve worried that one day she’ll leave me, that she’ll realize I’m no good. But guess what, son? She doesn’t. Because she loves me just as much. Do you love this girl the way I love my Audrey?”

“Yes, sir. I don’t think I’m capable of loving anyone else the way I love Brin.”

“Good. So, here’s what’s gonna happen. When we get to your house, you’ll sleep this off. Tomorrow, you’ll find a meeting,
any
meeting.”

“Our meeting isn’t till Thursday.”

“Exactly, but any addiction meeting will do. AA, OA, Shoplifters Anonymous, I don’t freaking care. Just find one. I’ll go with you, if you want.”

“Yeah,” I replied, wiping the tears from my chin. “Please.”

“You got it.”

We drove the rest of the way without talking, listening to the classic rock station on his radio. Jesse hummed along with every song that came through the speakers, occasionally drumming his fingers in time on the steering wheel.

When we reached my house, all of the lights were on. Brin was visible through the front window as she sat on the couch. Her cheeks were red and puffy, and one of her hands was clutching her other wrist. I knew what she was doing. Her fingernails were digging into the skin of her wrist, something she only did in moments of desperation and panic.

My heart sank at the knowledge I’d made her worry like that. I’d been gone for almost twenty-four hours, just enough time for me to get fucked up with my cousin Charlie and the four losers in his apartment, play a shitload of Diablo, eat an entire pizza, and pass out on his living room floor surrounded by dirty socks and empty beer cans.

I was a disgrace, and Brin deserved better.

When the headlights caught her attention, she jumped from her seat and ran to the front door. She threw it open and wrapped her arms around herself as she watched us from the doorway, her shoulders shaking as tears streamed down her face. When Jesse and I reached the porch, I knelt before her, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her close. She ran her fingers through my hair as she pulled me closer, choking loudly on her tears.

“I’m so sorry, Brin. So sorry.”

“Did you?”

She didn’t have to explain; I knew exactly what she meant. I looked up into her blue eyes, clouded with fear, and nodded as I grimaced, doing my best to hold my own tears at bay. “I’m so sorry.”

My sponsor’s gruff voice came from behind me. “He needs to sleep it off.”

“You must be Jesse,” Brin managed to say through her tears. “Thank you for bringing him home.”

“Of course. I’m sorry we had to meet this way. He’s a good kid.”

“No, I’m not,” I muttered into Brin’s nightgown.

Jesse left us on the porch, with me clutching Brin’s waist as she cried.

“I’ll never forgive myself,” I said over and over as Brin sobbed above me, her tears landing in my hair. “Please forgive me, Brin. Please.”

“Will you go to a meeting?”

“Yes. I will, yes.”

“Okay.” She sniffed. “You take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch tonight.”

I rose to my feet and shook my head vehemently, my hands flailing in the air. “No, I’ll sleep on the couch. I’ve put you through enough.”

She let out a defeated sigh. “Fine. I’ll be in the bedroom if you need me.”

“I love you.”

She turned, then paused before opening the front door. “I love you too.”

I knew part of her had wanted to leave that night. Part of her had wanted to give up on my sorry ass and never look back. But she didn’t, and I owed that to Jesse. If not for him, I probably would have stayed at Charlie’s for round two. Or three. And if I had, returning to Brin and to my meetings would have seemed impossible. I would have folded into my pain, my frustration, and my fears of losing her.

Since that night I owed Jesse my life, and I’d vowed to one day repay him for saving me when I was at my lowest point.

• • •

As the memory of that awful night faded, I did my best to focus on the next speaker. She was new, a tall woman with bright red hair. She stood at the lectern, her fingers trembling as she gripped its edges. She opened her mouth to speak, but words seemed to escape her.

Jesse tapped me on the shoulder, then leaned toward me. “Marriage is a big commitment. You sure you’re ready for that, Chief?” he asked in a low voice as he ran his calloused fingers through his goatee. Every once in a while, he called me Chief, as if he thought he was the shrink from
Good Will Hunting
.

“Yeah, I’m ready. It’s Brin. I think I’ve always been ready with her.”

I braced myself, expecting the old man to give me hell for such a sentimental comment. But it didn’t come.

“Well, congratulations.”

“She hasn’t agreed just yet. I still have to ask her. And I need to buy a ring.”

Jesse smiled. “Well then, you’ll let me know when celebration
is
in order. How ’bout that?”

I leaned back in my chair as another member of our group approached the lectern. “Sounds good, man. I can handle that.”

“All right.” He smirked, looking all kinds of satisfied with himself. “Get your game face on.”