Page 134 of The Cost of Forgetting You

March 20th, 2015

When I arrive home, light is spilling onto the front yard, painting the grass a dull yellow. I shut off the car, but I remain seated long enough to second-guess my resolve. Long enough to see Lucy’s headlights as she passes. To worry for her, before guilt steals that from me, too.

I force myself to get out. I put one foot in front of the other, but I don’t hear a single step. My ears are crowded with the rush of blood evacuating my face. My shoes are on one second, and then they’re off. I don’t register discarding them in the pile by the door. The door creaks as I push inside. Shudders closed behind me. I follow the sound of reality television into the living room, half-blind thanks to a blur of white-hot shame clouding my vision.

I find Kimberly there, curled up in the corner of the sofa with a throw blanket draped haphazardly over her knees. A half-empty glass of white wine glistens on the side table. I pause for a moment, but no sound comes from the back of the house. Delilah’s not home yet. There’s still time.

I swallow hard. “I need to talk to you.”

Kimberly doesn’t look up from her show. “About what?”

“Could you look at me please?”

She huffs a breath but tears her eyes away for a heartbeat. It’s long enough. Whatever she sees on my face grabs her attention. “What’s wrong now?”

My airways are closing. My stomach is inside out. I try to speak, but the words won’t come. Only tears. Sticky, hot tears that I wipe away as quickly as they fall, but there’s always more to replace them. I give up eventually. They soak my face, my throat, the collar of my shirt. I’m sodden by the time I manage to yank each mangled word from my lips.

“I kissed someone else.”

Her face is perfectly blank for a moment. It shatters when she rolls her eyes. “Good for you, Henry. I couldn’t care less.”

“W-what?”

She groans as she reaches for the remote and pauses her show, then untangles herself from her blanket to rise from the couch. She takes her time straightening the navy-blue cotton shorts and matching top she has on. When she faces me once more, her expression is one of cool indifference. “If you think jealousy is the way you’re going to get me to stay, you’re sorely mistaken. We’ve been over this. I’ll stay through next school year, but when Delilah moves out, I will too.”

My mouth opens. Closes. The tears slow to a constant drip. “I’m not trying to make you jealous, Kimberly. I’m trying to tell you I fucked up. Trying to have an adult conversation about it.”

Her gaze flickers over my face. Scans the length of my entire body. She takes a step closer. Curls her nose as though she smells Lucy’s perfume coming off me in waves. When our eyes meet again, hers are wide. “Who? Who did you fucking kiss?”

I know. I know it shouldn’t matter. Not after everything she’s said, everything that’s happened over the last year. Over the last seventeen years. But seeing her anger, knowing I deserve it for once, rips my heart out and shreds it in one fell swoop.

I cast my eyes downward, unable to watch the wound open when I whisper, “Lucy.”

“WHAT?” She steps forward, plants her hands on my shoulders, and shoves. “You better not be fucking serious. Lucy? Of all the people in the world you could screw, you picked her? I knew it. I damn well knew from the day we got married and you couldn’t keep your fucking eyes off her.” She pushes me again. Steps back to look at the whole of me in absolute disgust. “How could you?”

I throw my hands up. “You said you were leaving.”

“I haven’t fucking left yet! Damn it, Henry, you had one more year. One. More. Year. You couldn’t keep it in your pants till then? You don’t think you owe me that much?”

“I didn’t…we didn’t… It was a kiss, Kimberly. I swear.” My brow furrows. “I’m telling you because I know I fucked up, and I’m sorry I disrespected you. But we’ve been over for a very long time. You made that incredibly clear.”

“We’re still married, Henry!” She swipes a candle off the end table and throws it my way. I dodge it, barely, but hear it shatter on the hardwood behind me. “You expect me to believe you didn’t fuck her? You’re a fucking cheat! I gave up everything for you, and this is how you repay me?”

This time it’s her wineglass, the contents of which soak my feet upon landing. The smell of alcohol burns my nose. My foot stings. I glance down to see a small shard of glass sticking upright in my skin, right behind my big toe. A drop of blood leaks from it like a rusted tear slipping over my skin.

Good, I think. I deserve this. Because she’s right. We are still married. I made a promise to her, and I broke it. All I can do now is try to minimize the damage.

“I know, Kimberly. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” I flatten my palm against my heart, mostly to reassure myself that it’s still there. “Whatever you need from me, you’ve got it. I’ll quit my job. I won’t be near her. For as long as you stay, I’ll be loyal to you and to this marriage. But we’ve got to figure out a solution that doesn’t hurt?—”

“Mom? Dad?”

The words die on my lips. Kimberly is frozen with her hand around a picture frame. In it, she and I are smiling. Delilah is standing between us, large Mickey ears on her head. It’s the only family vacation we ever took. One of the happiest memories we share.

A snarl twists Kimberly’s face. She holds up the frame, gaze fixed over my shoulder. “Delilah, if you learn one thing from me, let it be this.” She slams the frame on the floor. The sound is like a clap of thunder in the small house, startling everyone but its maker. “Don’t waste a minute of your life on any man.”

I glance over my shoulder. My daughter, the light of my life. My kindred spirit. She looks stricken. Her narrow face is pale, eyes wide. Her light brown hair flows wild and unruly from her crown. A sprig of grass sticks out from behind her ear. But what eviscerates me is her gaze, which flicks from her mother to me, unsure of who to trust.

Her whole life, I’ve tried to be the constant. The steady hand through the storms of her mother’s moods. The person she can depend on, no matter what. How could I have let her down so monumentally, that I’ve now taken that away from her? I’m the rug stripped from beneath her feet, and I’m watching her free-fall before my very eyes.

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