Page 19 of Sangria

I don’t want to say it’s been a long time since I’ve had a meaningful conversation, but that is what it felt like tonight. Everything that Levi and I discussed had a different depth to it. He told me about his ex-wife, which of course prompted my big mouth to open and spill about Van being an epic douche. Levi didn’t look at me like I was damaged, but he did offer to be there if I needed someone.

And maybe I do need someone. I don’t necessarily mean him, but someone to talk to. The idea of going to a therapist, though, doesn’t sit high on my priority list, especially being here. One leak to the press and the vultures will descend and invade my life. They have a way of turning something that should be positive into something negative. The last thing I want is to be labeled with a stigma because once that happens, it’ll stay with me forever.

The disturbance in my stomach eases up a bit when my house comes into sight. Seeing it darkened doesn’t do anything to dissipate the unease I feel wondering if Van is inside, waiting for me. I suppose I am somewhat childish by avoiding him, but honestly, what am I going to say? There is no way in hell I’ll ever tell him that it was okay for him to cheat or that I forgive him. To me, that action, of taking another into your sacred space, is unforgivable. Never in a million years would I think that Van would do that to me, but clearly I was wrong.

As soon as I press the button that will open my gate, two photographers appear out of nowhere and start snapping pictures. One yells my name and quickly follows up with a question about Van. I’m tempted to roll down my window and ask them “what about me?” but playing the ‘woe is me’ card has never been my forte.

When the garage door starts to lift, the rock that was in my stomach is back with a vengeance. Van’s car is in the garage like it belongs there. He knows that I don’t want him here so the fact that he is, really twists the knife he’s stabbed in my back even harder. I had hoped to end my day on a high note, but that doesn’t seem like the case now.

I wait in the driver’s seat until the garage door is down and the voices from the photographers are all but non-existent before I find my way into the house. It’s dark except for the colors flashing on the television.

“Where ya been?” I jump and place my hand against the wall to steady myself. Van is sitting at the dining room table, and I imagine he’s staring at me. Only after I press the button on the wall do I see him and his red-rimmed eyes.

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s my house,” he says even though I’m shaking my head.

“You should leave, Van. We have nothing to discuss.”

He picks up the papers that are in front of him and clenches them. “We have everything to discuss.”

As hard as I try, I can’t hold back the tears. Unfortunately for me, Van mistakes my weakness as a sign that I’m willing to let him hold me. Once his hands reach for me, I’m pushing him away. “Don’t touch me,” I tell him as I stagger back.

“Zara, you have to let me explain.”

“There is nothing you can say to change what I saw you doing, Van. Nothing. So how could there be an explanation? Are you going to tell me that you fell into her? That you’d think I’d be stupid enough to believe that? I saw the look you gave me when I interrupted you. You were pissed off that you couldn’t finish.”

“You don’t know that, Z.” His voice is weak and lacks the confidence he usually has.

“Are you for real, right now? Of course, I know it because I know every single expression that you have. I’ve seen that face before.”

I brush past him and head upstairs. He follows, which I knew he would, causing me to immediately regret my decision to leave the main floor.

“Zara, you need to hear me out. She means nothing.”

“Ah,” I scoff as I turn to face him. “Means nothing, huh? So you’re still banging her? You disgust me, Van. You must think that I’m naïve or so desperate for you to love me that I’m willing to believe your bullshit. Even after I caught you, you went back and finished the job.”

“Zara,” he says, reaching for me, but I pull away.

“Get out, Van,” I say as I walk into the room we once shared and into the closet. He still has a pile of clothes hanging in the closet, and I promptly start pulling them down.

“What are you doing?” he asks as I set an armful down on the bed.

“What don’t you get?” I ask, facing him. “You cheated. You destroyed our marriage with a single act and every day since I question how long you’ve been unfaithful to me. I throw up thinking about how you’ve put me at risk for diseases. My heart breaks at the betrayal that I never thought you were capable of. You did this, Van. Not me.”

“I’m sorry, Z. I am. I want to stop, but I think I’m sick. I think I have a sex addiction.”

“Well, you better seek help before your dick falls off,” I tell him before I head back into the closet. “I don’t know what you expect from me, Van, but you knew that cheating was a hard limit for me and yet you did it anyway. You know what Darian and I went through when my dad did this to my mom, how it hurt that he could throw his family away like that. I have never been more thankful that we don’t have children as I am now.”

“You don’t mean that, Z.”

“I do,” I say as I hand him a pile of clothes. “I can’t imagine going through this with children. It’s bad enough that the band is suffering because of it.”

“The band. . .”

Van pauses, and for a brief second, I think he’s about to tell me that he’s quitting. But calmer thoughts prevail, and while this would be what I want, the timing is wrong. We’re about to embark on a tour in a few months and losing Van would definitely hurt the band, but he is replaceable.

“What about the band?”

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