Page 14 of Saving Ren
Too scared to look up, I cover my mouth with the back of my hand and stare down at the floor in an attempt at hiding my tears, but there’s no controlling the movement of my shoulders as my stomach heaves out a sob.
“Lauren?” sounding panicked, Jemma says my name.
The noise from the bar drifts away, becoming just a dull collection of sounds from somewhere far away. I still don’t look up.
I’m not ready.
Not ready to say the words.
Not ready for the sympathetic looks I know will come my way.
I’m the fixer, the solver of problems. I’m never the broken, the one to fall apart, and admitting that’s what I’ve become causes physical pain in my chest and belly.
For a few seconds there’s total silence. Drawing in a breath, I look up. My eyes shift from the blue, to the brown, then to the blue-eyed gazes of my friends. As a collective, they move. Lou puts her arm around my shoulders; Jo and Jemma stand either side. All of them positioned to block anyone else from witnessing my very public meltdown.
“I fucking knew it! I’ve thought for months something was wrong, but every time I’ve asked. . .”
“Jem!” Jo snaps.
“Sorry, but this is bullshit. She’d be the first to have one of us spilling our guts and the first to try and put things right.” Jemma’s eyes move from Jo to meet mine. “Cut the crap, Lauren, and tell us what the fuck’s going on. Are you sick? What are you hiding?”
“Am I going to need a cigarette for this?” Jo asks.
My lips rattle together as I let go of a long breath. “I thinkI’mgoing to need a cigarette for this,” I admit.
“Come on, I've got smokes,” Jo says, pulling her case from the wallet hanging from her wrist.
We follow her out to the veranda, which is the designated smoking area, and all but Lou light up a cigarette.
None of us are really smokers. We dabbled when we were at school, but when Jo fell pregnant, we all stopped, only for each of us to start again at various stressful times in our lives. Now, it’s mostly a social thing, when we all get together and drink too much, or right now when it’s a combination of all three.
Positioning ourselves around a table in the corner furthest from the doors leading into the bar, I stand with my back to everyone but my friends, and smoke in silence.
Taking in a long sip of the drink I’d grabbed from the tray Jo had set down, I stub out my cigarette, draw in a deep breath, and speak my truth.
“I’m leaving Jay, and I’m going to need your help to do it.”
My statement is met with silence, and I take a moment to study the expressions on my friend’s faces as they process my news. They don’t look shocked, with brows either raised or drawn together, it’s more like confusion they convey.
“What?” Jemma asks with a nervous laugh.
“Why?” Lou questions quietly.
“What did he do, Lauren?” Jo’s tone is cold and hard, sending a chill right through me.
I lick my lips, fold my arms across my chest, take a look around the decked area we’re standing on while taking a long moment to arrange my words.
She knows how much I love my husband. My friendsallknow. My marriage was the one they each aspired to have. For the almost twenty-seven years we’ve been together, Jay has been my best friend. Right alongside these women, me and him have grown up together, raised our boys, and successfully run two businesses. It’s been a joke amongst them all that even after all these years, we still fuck like rabbits. But now I have to explain how that all ended some months ago, that things have changed, and that idyllic life I once was living, has for me, become a living nightmare.
The hardest part though. The part that kills me to admit, is that I’ve let this happen. There was nothing I could do the first time he put his hands on me, but I’ve allowed the hair pulling, wrist grabbing, and cheek squeezing to escalate into what unfolded in my kitchen last week.
Finally returning my gaze back to where my friends huddle together waiting on my explanation, I talk.
“Things haven’t been good for a while now, months, a year almost.” I shrug and explain. “I don’t know how, why, or when it started, but something changed. You all know what me and Jay are like, we’re screaming abuse at each other one minute, ripping each other’s clothes off the next.”
I take another sip of my drink, expecting one of them to comment, ask a question,something, instead, they remain silently watching me.
I place my glass back on the table, and in an attempt to hold myself together for what comes next, I wrap my arms around my middle.
