Alana
HE’S MARRIED.
What. The. Fuck?
I sit up and wrap my arms around my waist. My hands are clammy and my throat goes dry at his words. The Darien I know is not a liar and has always been upfront with me. I don’t recognize this man, the man who took me out for my birthday, demanded that we start dating. Never once has he showed signs of being married, for Christ’s sake. I’ve been here every damn day. Is this a sick joke? He lowers his gaze to the beige ceramic floors. Oh my God, he is serious.
My heart can’t take another ache. Tears burn in the back of my eye sockets, and I try to swallow the lump clogging my throat.
On autopilot, I throw on my ugly Christmas sweater and jeans I wore earlier. He grabs my elbow, and I snatch it away and say, “Don’t. Touch. Me.”
He takes a step back, and I head to the door as fast as my feet can carry me, but Darien stands in front of it, blocking the doorknob. Bastard. “It’s not what you think.” His voice is low.
“Tell me what I think, huh? That my boyfriend tells me that he is married. That he is cheating on his wife, and I’m a mistress. Because that’s what the hell it looks like to me!” I slap my palm across his hard chest, but he doesn’t flinch.
God, I must be an idiot. Do I have “stupid” written on my forehead or something? Or do I come with a stamp that attracts assholes? I bared my soul to this man, told him about Cole. I shared my secrets and insecurities and became vulnerable, and he’s doing the exact same thing to his wife that Charles did to me. He is the biggest asshole I know.
In my eyes, he is no different than Charles.
“Oh my God, you made me a Rebecca!” I need to get away from him fast. He folds his arms across his chest.
“Shut up. Don’t you ever say that shit again!” The vein on the side of his neck pops.
“You did, Darien,” I whisper as tears spill down my cheeks. I don’t even bother to wipe them.
“I haven’t been with Mia in two years, Alana.”
“Bullshit,” I say, grinding my teeth.
“I’m not lying, I was divorcing my wife before you came in the picture.”
“I don’t believe you.” Why should I? He lied to me the whole time, and he was never mine from the beginning. He belonged to someone else.
Is Darien his real name? Does he have any kids I don’t know about? That explains the late-night calls and shit.
“Come with me to the mediation on Thursday,” he pleads.
I ignore his question. “Why didn’t you tell me in the beginning?”
“Didn’t think our relationship would go anywhere, but when I saw you the second time at the strip joint, I just knew you were mine. Thought about you so much I began stalking you, showing up at your job and lying that Gunner told me to pick you up. Never meant to hurt you, Alana.” He rubs my cheek with the pad of his thumb, and I flinch under his touch. “When we were at the boathouse, and you told me that you liked me, and I felt the passion between us, I knew I couldn’t stay away from you. Not going to stay away from you.”
He presses his lips to mine, and I stand there like a statue. Pulling away, I can see the hurt in his eyes.
“Come with me Thursday so that way you won’t think I’m lying,” he says, swallowing hard.
He searches my face for answers and I say, “I need time to think and process this.”
Reluctantly, he sidesteps and I turn the knob on the door and leave, with a crack right down the middle of my heart.
Whoever came up with that dumbass slogan, “Follow your heart,” needs to be shot. Seriously, every time I follow my heart, it always ends up in the hands of some liar and cheater. My heart is stupid, I tell ya. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. It does dumb flutters when I like someone. It tells me to look past people’s faults, even though my smart brain tells me not to. It tells me to let go and forgive when it knows that it has been shit on.
The sun peeks between my floral curtains, lighting up my room. Dust motes float in the fluorescents, reminding me that I need to clean my room. I’m up too early for my liking. I stare at the Death Note poster hanging above my desk. I didn’t get much sleep last night, tossing and turning in the purple cotton sheets of my bed that feel so foreign because I haven’t spent nights here recently.
Rolling out of bed, I throw on a pink sweater and white sweatpants and head to the kitchen. As I grab the cup of coffee from the counter, Crystal walks in with her hair looking like Freakazoid. Lavender, thin hair sticks up like a peacock, and her big round belly peeks out from under the blue long-sleeved shirt. Black thick jeans fit loosely around her waist. She found out that she is having a girl, so I’m going to ask Gunner to have a baby shower at his place. Our condo is too small to fit everyone.
“You’re home?” she asks, grabbing a mug from the chestnut cabinet and pouring herself a cup.
“You’re not supposed to drink coffee while you’re pregnant, preggo,” I say before taking a sip from my mug. The steam tickles my nose.
“I can have one cup of coffee,” she whines and perches on the high black stool at the breakfast nook. “Did you tell Darien you are hanging out with me today?” A smile is plastered across her face. My heart aches at the mention of his name, and I want to grab a bag of chocolate chip cookies, crawl under the sheets and hide from the world.
“I haven’t forgotten,” I lie, putting on my poker face. Dumping the stale coffee into the sink, I go to the coat rack and shrug on my black coat with the fur on the hood that I bought at Forever 21, and wait for Crystal to wobble to the door.
“Let’s just get this over with,” she murmurs, sliding on her thick white coat and her knee-high boots, and we both stroll out the door.
Outside, snow sprinkles slowly from the sky, and it coats cars, buildings, and streets, creating a winter wonderland. People bundle in their coats, strolling on the wet concrete to their destination.
As cars drive past us, the chilly air smacks me in the face.
Crystal’s car is in the shop, so we are relying on a taxi to take us to Babies ‘R’ Us. We stand at the edge of the curb, putting our hands in the air, flagging down a taxi.
“Alana Underwood,” a voice says behind us. We both turn our view to a stocky old man with sprouts of silver hair coming from his scalp. The black suit he is sporting looks a little too big for his frame.
“Yes, sir,” I say, waving my arm in the air.
“I’m Tristan, your driver. Where would you like to go?” He opens the door to a jet-black Maybach. Holy shit. Those cars are expensive as hell. Gunner owns a few. I look at the guy and back at the car, and arch an eyebrow.
“It’s courtesy of Mr. Darien Casey.”
I stand there like a statue and a teenager wearing a black beanie bumps my shoulder and turns around and says, “Sorry.”
I turn my view back to Tristan.
“Ma’am?” Tristan says.
Crystal wobbles to the car like a penguin and says, “You don’t have to tell me twice.”
I want to turn down the offer, but Crystal is already in the car, strapping on her seatbelt and smiling like she won the lottery. Haven’t told her Darien is married yet. I’m having a hard time wrapping my mind around it.
As I pull the seatbelt over my body, I admire the interior. Cream leather seats that recline and brown trimmings on the seats. A flat television covers the back of the passenger and driver seat. “Wow. Your boyfriend knows how to spoil a girl,” she squeals.
Boyfriend? Haven’t decided if I want to break up with him. Crystal hits a button on the side of the door.
“My butt is getting warm,” she sighs in relief.
The driver pulls off onto the icy road.
“Where would you like to go, ma’am?” Tristan asks, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.
“Babies ‘R’ Us,” Crystal answers for us.
My fingers are itching to text Darien and thank him for the ride. He deserves a thank you.
I whip out my phone, tap my fingers on the screen as I fire off a text.
Me: Thanks for the ride.
D: You’re welcome. Are you still pissed off at me?
Me: I’m hurt, Darien. Not pissed.
D: I’m sorry, sweetheart. Come over tonight so we can talk.
Me: Can’t.
D: Are you coming to the mediation?
I ignore his question and tuck my phone back into my Harley Quinn purse and glance out the window. The tall buildings flash by in a blur. Honestly, I don’t know if I want to go to the mediation with him. He could be telling me the truth about him divorcing his wife. Is he getting a divorce because she doesn’t want him? Or was it his choice? If I can get a clear understanding of their relationship then maybe that will determine if I’m going to be with him. Gunner knows him better than I do, and Gunner would kill him if he knew that Darien was with his wife. Gunner wouldn’t approve of our relationship.
The driver stops in front of Babies ‘R’ Us, and I tell him that we will be an hour.
In the store, I grab a purple buggy and we throw in a few baby outfits, diapers, wipes. We pick out a chestnut bedroom set with Little Mermaid décor, sheets, and drapes.
“Alana, what’s going on?” Crystal asks, pushing the buggy. It’s the day after Christmas and sales are through the roof. Everyone in the store is acting like a wild animal. Two women fight over a box of diapers. I don’t know why Crystal picked this day to go shopping.
“What do you mean?” I ask as I pick out a baby high chair.
“Are you sad because of Cole? If thi—”
I wave my hand, shutting her up. I might never get over Cole’s death, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be there for my friend. “No. Darien and I got into a fight last night,” I say, biting the inside of my cheek.
“About what?” She stops, leans against the handle of the buggy, breathing in and out. “God, the baby just kicked the shit out of me.”
“Do you need to sit down?”
She shakes her head and pushes the buggy.
I let out an exhale and say, “Darien is still legally married.”
Reality hits me like a ton of bricks. I feel like I’m in a fake relationship.
“No way. Shut up!” Crystal frowns. “Do we need to do an A and C mission again? We can put Kool-Aid in his tank.”
“It’s not what you think.” Geez, I’m repeating what he said to me.
“What is it?”
A lady opens up a register, and we hurry up and rush to her line. The cashier asks us if we found everything we needed and we both say yes.
“He said they have been separated for two years and that he has to meet with her Thursday to finalize the divorce or something like that and he wants me to come to prove to me that he is not lying.”
When Charles and I were going through our divorce, we didn’t divide assets. I told him that I didn’t want anything from him. Let him have the house and the two cars. I took all my names from the bank accounts. When he broke things off with me at the bistro, I never set foot in our two-story home again. Too many horrible memories.
“You should go! Find out the scoop on what’s going on. If he invited you to go, then he must not be lying about the situation.”
The cashier scans the items, and the total comes to seven hundred dollars and twenty-three cents. Since I’m the godmother, I pay for everything. Tristan dumps the stuff in the trunk, and we get into the car.
“It’s the lying I don’t like, Crystal. If he lies about something this big, he will lie about something else. That’s how all cheaters start off.”
Charles used to lie all the time just so he could get some ass from Rebecca. Smeared lipstick and faint perfume on his clothes and he told me that it was ketchup and fabric softener. Too depressed to use my head, I let it go. Man, I was such an idiot.
“He’s not Charles. Yes, he lied, but in the beginning, you weren’t tryna be with him, so why does it matter?” She rubs her belly and frowns.
I rest my head on the back of the seat. “I feel like our whole relationship was a lie and, to be honest, it never felt like we were using each other for sex.”
“Alana, you’re expecting to have a perfect relationship, but in reality, not all relationships are perfect. I mean look at Clarence and me, we had a messy start, but we are trying to work things out.”
Shocked, I feel the lines deepen on my forehead. “Wait a second. You and Clarence are speaking again?”
She gives me a mega smile, flashing me the gap between her front teeth. “He apologized for abandoning me, and we decided to start over. I love Clarence, we’ve been together for a year and I don’t want to give that up. So you should give Darien a try.” She pats my knee.
My heart feels like it has been through a grinder, and right now, I don’t know if I can face Darien.
I whip out my phone from my bag and send Gunner a message.
Me: Why didn’t you tell me Darien is married?
Big Bro: ?
Me: You didn’t know he was married???
Big Bro: Yeah. Thought you knew.
Me: NO.
Big Bro: He’s divorcing Mia. They haven’t been together for a couple of years.
Guess he was telling the truth. Huh? That doesn’t change the fact that he didn’t tell me about it.
Me: Why are they divorcing?
Big Bro: You should ask him yourself. Do I need to kick his ass? Did he hurt you?
Me: No.
Big Bro: Good. I like Darien.
Me: Something must be wrong with him if you like him.
Big Bro: Lol. He’s rich and knows how to treat a woman.
I smile at that text message.
Me: I’m having a baby shower at your place for Crystal, I’ll hit you up when I’m ready to throw it.
Big Bro: OK. Cool.
After dropping Crystal off at Clarence’s house, I tell Tristan to drive me to Woodland Cemetery. Normally, I visit Cole on holidays and birthdays, but with Mr. Adam being sick and everything blowing up with Darien, I haven’t had a chance to visit. I stroll through the cemetery as snow covers my black Converse. The wind blows, making the crisp air colder.
Warm fresh tears spill down my cheeks. I wish I could say that the pain goes away and it gets easier, but it doesn’t. Every time I’m out here, looking at my son’s grave, I’m filled with a dull ache in my heart that will never go away. The hole in my chest grows bigger and bigger and reminds me that I failed as a mother.
The first three months after his death I used to come out here every day, telling him stories, giving him updates on my life, but I stopped because Charles said it wasn’t healthy. Now my feet come to a halt at the gray marble grave site. Taking my numb fingers from my pockets, I wipe the snow from the top of the tombstone. Geez, I hate the fucking cold. No matter how many layers of clothing I wear, I still freeze my tits off.
The tomb says, “Cole Charles Tucker.” That was my married name before I got it changed back to my maiden name. I wipe the tears from my eyes.
“Hey, Cole.” I choke out the words. “Sorry I didn’t come by yesterday. My friend’s father wasn’t well, and he wanted me to sit with him at the hospital. Hope you are not mad at me.”
Silence falls, and the chilly breeze tickles my cheeks. Birds chirp loudly. The sun hangs high in the sky, but not enough to get rid of this godawful cold. I blow warm air into my hands and rub them together.
“Guess what? Grandma married Harold, can you believe that? I’m happy for her, and I hope you are.”
No matter how much I speak to him, he is never coming back. My chest tightens and aches with a pain that I’m familiar with. I miss him so much.
“Anyways, I hope that Grandpa Cole is taking good care of you and I miss you so much and love you.” I grab the small Paw Patrol stuffed animal from my brown coat and place it next to the frostbitten lilies. “Merry Christmas, my bumblebee,” I whisper, blinking back the tears that are overflowing like a waterfall. I wrap my arms around the tombstone, pressing my right cheek against the icy stone until it burns.
“I-I-I’m s-o-o s-s-orry I-I failed you. S-so s-sorry I couldn’t save you. I failed you as a mother, and I wish I could make it up to you.” I swallow the lump the size of a basketball in the back of my throat. “F-f-orgive me, p-please.” I kiss the tombstone.