Page 77 of When The Rain Falls

26ALL SUNSHINE

FINN

"Finn, can we talk?"

A week after the incident, we tried again while watching a movie at her place. Things had gone worse the second time. I couldn't get hard. No matter what I did. No matter what she did. She got frustrated and I saw the writing on the wall, so I left. I didn't vomit this time. But my stomach did anxious flips for the rest of the evening.

The next day, I took matters into my own hands. Everything worked just fine. The finicky bastard. It was a relief. But only slightly.

Now, we're sitting at my kitchen counter after a dinner of sushi. Nicole's been pleasant, but unusually quiet. I thought maybe she had a bad day at work. Until now. When she asked if we could "talk."

"Uh, sure," I say, running a hand through my hair nervously. We're standing on opposite ends of the kitchen bar. I had just been about to pull down some wine glasses.

"I need to tell you something. I've been trying to get the nerve all evening."

"What." I stare at her. It's a statement, not a question. I hold my breath as the next sentence comes out of her mouth.

"I slept with someone else," she says. I had not expected that. My fists begin to clench around the counter's edge.

"You what?" I ask, dumbly. We've never defined our relationship. We never talked about being exclusive. But I had assumed.

"It was a slip," she says. "With an ex."

"A slip? Really, Nicole? A slip? Like, oops, your dick slipped inside me?" I growl at her. Rage is building up behind my eyes. Behind my temples. My heart pounds in my chest.

"Finn. I'm sorry." Her eyes are apologetic. "But it's just that, well, you know." She gestures to me.

"What do I know?" Oh, I know. I definitely know. But I'm not going to make this easy for her.

"You can't," she says. "And sex is really important to me," she continues. "My job is really stressful. And I need someone who is less complicated."

Less complicated? Excuse me that I've lost my wife and have been slowly trying to rebuild my life. I've been angry a lot since Laurel's death. Angry at the world. Angry at life. Angry at love. For the past year, I've managed to keep things in check, with the help of medication. But right now, anger is raging inside me like a furnace. I haven't been this angry in a long time. This anger surprises even me. It's coming on so hot and so fast that my eyes are starting to lose their focus. I don't know what to do with it all. It possesses me. I'm completely at its mercy.

Laurel would never have cheated on me. That was the one thing we both agreed would never be tolerated. No coming back from. No forgiveness. A line that could never be crossed. But Laurel is gone. And I'm stuck in some second-rate life without her. A life where my girls don't have a mother. A life where everything is just a shadow of all the beautiful things I once had. A life where people cheat.

"Fuck, Nicole!" I roar at her. I slam a fist on the counter between us.

"I honestly didn't think you'd care." Her voice is almost taunting. She didn't think I'd even care? What does she think I am? Less of a person? Less of a man? My hands begin to shake and my vision goes dark in the center. The wires between my brain and body fully sever. One minute, the vase is on the counter in front of me, full of flowers I'd given Ruby after her dance recital. The next minute, the sound of shattering glass fills the quiet house. The vase is on the floor, a pile of broken shards scattered across the tile. Liquid pooling at my feet.

Nicole gasps. She steps back and glares at me. "Oh, real mature."

But I'm not done. My chest heaves wildly, still in the throes of it. I give a sharp punch to the wall behind me. Pain surges up my wrist. A framed picture of the girls falls loudly to the floor. The wooden frame bends and the glass cracks.

"You keep having your little tantrum, but I won't stick around to watch it." Nicole takes quick steps down the hall. The front door closes.

"Dad?" I hear Vivian shout above the roaring in my ears. Her little footsteps patter down the stairs.

"Viv, stop!" I yell out to her. But I'm too late. She takes the final step from the staircase and lands into the debris field from my anger.

"Ouch!" she says, jumping back onto the carpeted stairs. She takes in the broken vase. The hole in the wall. Then she looks at me. She can only see one thing. Because there's only one thing I feel. Pure, unadulterated rage. But there's something in her eyes, too. Something I hope to never see again.

Fear.

Fear of me.

She runs back up the stairs and I hear her bedroom door close.

"It'll be hard, but we'll figure it out. We have each other," I say to myself, echoing the very words I told Laurel all those years ago. Except I'm alone. Doing everything by myself. And making a giant mess of it.

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