Page 93 of Ripple Effect
When I do, I toss my bags onto my bed. I grab my sketchbook and head out onto my balcony. Slowly, I sit in the lounge chair to relax. I flip to the last page and lay the tip of my pencil to the paper. As I take in the terra-cotta roofs of Funchal, my hand begins to capture vignettes of the details and scale of the artwork I saw today. I make notes in the margins of the colors and textures that grabbed my focus.
After an hour of doing this, I flip the page. Deliberately, I open the door to all of the pain. I draw a man with his head lowered to a beautiful woman with curly hair. His face has just lifted from hers, and there’s a smile on his face.
My heart aches when I study the image I drew. There’s a closeness between them, something indescribable I never picked up on before that moment. As the familiar pang begins battering my heart again, I drop my hand to my stomach. We’re forever linked now. I have to deal with what I saw and process it. Forcing myself to look down, I study the image of Cal and Iris I drew. What else was hiding right before my eyes all these years we were married?
The pain of realizing I was lied to prevents me from listening with an open heart to Cal now. But if I’m honest, it’s not just because of this; Cal and I never had the level of open communications we should have. If there was something that needed to be said, we said it. We never held back when it came to all of the important things, but maybe, and this makes my chest want to explode, Iris could get him to say the little nothings, the things he needed to say but didn’t know how.
And right now, I need to let him know I’ll always love him regardless of if he loves someone else. Because he doesn’t know it yet, while I want to be his everything—because that’s what he is to me—I need him to be able to give his child more.
So, I turn on my phone. I take a picture of what I just drew. Opening up my text message, I type the greatest truth when it comes to love and the greatest lie when it comes to my happiness.
If Iris can make you this happy, then I wouldn’t be the woman who loves you if I didn’t step aside. We’ll talk when I get home, but I hurt because I heard your heart beneath mine for so long and I didn’t listen to the fact it wasn’t beating for me. I’ll always love you for what you gave to me, Cal.
I press Send before I can stop myself. Then I shut down the phone to get ready for dinner. I need to figure out what to wear since it’s formal night. Even though I’m not hungry at all, I figure I’ll manage to swallow down enough to satisfy what I need to for our baby. It will all taste like sawdust to me anyway.
63
Present Day
Elizabeth
“What was your reaction when you got that text, Cal?” Dr. Powell asks my husband.
“If I knew where she was, I would have figured out some way to get to her,” Cal growls. His hand holding mine is almost white with tension. “There I was sitting on my hands waiting for her to come home to tell her the truth, and here she was trying to tell me it was okay if I didn’t love her anymore.” Cal glares down at me.
“I didn’t know,” I say helplessly.
“Was I still breathing?” he counters.
“Yes.”
“There’s your answer, Libs. If I’m breathing, then it’s because my heart’s still pounding. And it only beats for you.” Cal lifts our entwined fingers and rubs his lips over my knuckles.
I’m lost in the sensation until there’s a discreet cough. Dr. Powell’s smile has faded. “I hate to move on.”
Cal stiffens next to me. I lay my head against his shoulder. “It’s okay,” I whisper.
A low rumble starts deep in his throat.
Dr. Powell holds up his hands in surrender. “It’s difficult to discuss,” he begins.
“You’re not the one who will catch her staring out windows, remembering. I should have protected her. I’m the one who will gladly hold her through any nightmares this might induce. But every time, I want to slam my fist into the people who want to dissect what happened from start to finish. This is our life.” Cal’s frightfully calm. “What right do you have to more of it?”
“Cal.” I lean into him and lay my head on his heart. His lips come down and kiss the top of my head.
“Why don’t you start, Cal?” Dr. Powell says quietly. “Pick up from where Libby left off.”
He holds me tight against his chest. “I’d just received her text and called Sam and Iris into my office to discuss it.”
64
Calhoun
Year Six – Five Years Ago from Present Day – October 22 1349 Hours EST
I’m still clutching my phone in my hand when Iris and Sam close the door to my office. Without a word, I hand my phone to them. Until this moment, there was never an all-consuming panic I might not get my wife back.
Until now.
