Page 128 of Loving Wild
I let out a sardonic laugh and shake my head as I step away from him.
“You needed to know I’m okay?Nowyou need to know I’m okay? You didn’t give a fuck whether I was okay a few months back when you kicked the shit out of me, or that time you pissed all over me, butnow, now you care?”
He closes his eyes for a long moment, nodding before he opens them.
“I will never be able to put into words how sorry I am for what’s happened, but I am. I’m truly sorry. I’m getting help. I’m in a couple of programmes, and I’m getting help.”
Grabbing the handle of the bag, I lift it back to my shoulder, as I do, Jay reaches out for my hand and gently brushes his thumb over my fingers before dropping his hand to his side.
“You’ve stopped wearing your wedding ring,” he says quietly.
“I’m no longer married. Why would I wear it?”
He nods, and it strikes me then how much weight he’s lost. My husband has always been a big man. Tall and broad, even when we were younger. He played Aussie rules football to a fairly high level, as well as cricket, later golf, squash, and tennis. As far back as I can remember he’s gone to the gym at least three times a week.
He’s wearing a lightweight jacket over a T-shirt and jeans, and although I can see the broadness of his chest is still there, the weight loss from his face is noticeable.
“What happened?” I ask, hating myself for making him think that I care. But I do. Not about him. Not about us. I just need answers. I need to know why a marriage that was so good, for so long, somehow went so bad, so quickly.
“What fucking happened to us, to you, to suddenly do the things you did to me?” I ask, stepping out of the way of a couple pushing a pushchair.
I decide I’m not doing this standing in the middle of the hospital but need to remain somewhere public, where there are people around to help me if things become violent. There’s a small coffee shop to our left that has a couple of two-seater sofas facing each other. I collapse down into one, Jay moves to the other.
I don’t know how Ryder got into Gabe’s to get my clothes, but he made good choices. Leggings, my UGGs, and my Carnage hoodie are the perfect bumping into your violent ex-husband attire.
Dropping my bag to the floor, I tuck my legs underneath me and cross my arms over my middle in an attempt to stop my insides shaking so badly, keeping my phone in my hand the whole time.
I’m scared of my husband. A man I once trusted with my life, even here, in a public place, I’m scared of what he might do to me and my skin prickles with how sad that makes me, but I need details. Nothing he does or says can hurt me more than he already has. What I need from him now are answers.
“Explain to me, Jay. I don’t need your apologies, they mean nothing to me now, but I think I deserve an explanation as to what went so catastrophically wrong between us.”
He sits on the edge of the brown leather sofa, legs spread wide, hands clasped together between them.
“It started with coke . . . I . . . I don’t know how I can explain how quickly it all got a hold of me. I don’t know if it was depression, I don’t know, Lauren. I just needed something to lift me up. But instead of talking to you, going to a doctor, askingsomeonefor help, when one of the boys I play golf with offered me a line, I took it, and I liked the way it made me feel. I liked it so much, I asked him to get me some, then some more. Then when he didn’t come across, I drank to try and help myself sleep . . . and that’s how it went. Coke and alcohol, then I went to the doctor and asked for something to help me relax, and I added Valium to the mix.”
I stare at him in silence, this man I know so well, yet don’t know at all.
“How . . .” I shake my head trying to work out how to phrase my question when he answers it for me.
“I hid it well. That’s when I started pulling away. It wasn’t that I didn’t want you, I never fell out of love with you, never. Not even now.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Don’t do that. No.”
He nods, hopefully understanding that I do not need to hear that shit from him.
“It all just spiralled out of control. I thought I was on top of it, but it started costing me money. I used up all my lines of credit. I borrowed from friends . . .” he trails off as his brown eyes settle on me. “That’s when I became angry. I was so fucking angry, and I took it out on you. It wasmyfault.Iwas the one who fucked up. I had it all, a successful business, a beautiful wife, a beautiful home, a beautiful life, and I fucked it all up, and somehow, in my fucked up head, I decided it was allyourfault.”
My hand comes up to cover my mouth as I listen to him talk. I’m not sure if I want to vomit or sob.
“I tried to stay away as much as possible, but then when I did come home, you’d be . . . you’d be you. So fucking perfect, always looking good, the house immaculate, and I hated myself more. Every time I came home, as soon as I looked at you, I realised I was risking it all, and instead of asking for help . . .” I watch his lips and jaw tremble as tears fill his eyes. “Instead, I did what I did to you, and that just made me hate myself more.”
He wipes the back of his hand across his eyes, shaking his head as he continues.
“That Friday night you left, I thought . . . I laughed it off as you having a tantrum. Convinced myself it was nothing, then when I couldn’t find you, when no one would tell me anything, finding you became an obsession. It became my only focus.” He licks his lips and shrugs. “In my fucked up state of mind, you leaving me, leaving me and then finding someone else, moving on so quickly . . .” He continues moving his head from side to side, his eyes darting everywhere, and I’m terrified, so unbelievably scared that he’s going to launch himself at me that I sink further back into the sofa as he speaks. “You needed to be punished.” His words cut through my fear and I’m suddenly angry. Pissed off at myself for feeling even a little bit of sympathy for him. He came here, to the hospital, not knowing what kind of state I’d be in. After everything he’s put me through, he has no consideration how seeing him would make me feel, and I’m suddenly pissed the fuck off.
“Well, you certainly did that,” I grit out between my teeth, no longer feeling even a little bit sorry for what he’s been through.
“I did. You’ll never know how sorry I am for that.”
