Chapter 17

Claire

Two weeks later...

I walked across the room slowly, ignoring the faint pain in my right foot, pleading with my body to keep moving.

So close....so close...

I took five more steps and collapsed onto the sofa once I made it to the other side.

My therapist clapped and handed me a cup of water. “Very good, Miss Gracen!” She was beaming. “That was two hours of walking! You are going to be strolling down that aisle with ease! Has your fiancée been letting you do a little more on your own now when you’re at home?”

No...

I told her yes, but Jonathan hadn’t let me do much of anything. He’d taken an extended vacation from his company so he could tend to my every need. He even had a replica of our bedroom built downstairs so I could get to it—via the wheelchair I didn’t really need to use.

I’d tried to convince him that the pain wasn’t that bad and that I really didn’t need physical therapy, but he refused to listen and he refused to let me go to work. He had my staff come over during the day time and we all worked in various rooms. And whenever I had an appointment with a client, I hosted it outside by the pool.

As far as the recommended exercises I was supposed to do, he was always ready to help me complete them. Even when it took me an hour to walk across the room without wincing, or when I cried for half a day because I couldn’t do the shoulder routine right, he was patient and encouraging.

“How long do you honestly think it’ll be until I can run again? And can you please write a note telling Mr. Statham that I’m fully capable of getting around without that damn wheelchair? I’m not taking it home with me today...”

She smiled and pulled a pad out of her pocket. “Of course. You can probably jog in four months...Running?” She shook her head. “We’ll talk about that when I see you again. I’ll be right back with your progress chart.”

My cellphone rang and I held it up to my ear without looking at it. Jonathan always called right after my session was over.

“I need a few more minutes,” I said. “I’m waiting for my progress chart.”

“Claire...” It was Ryan.

I hung up.

My phone rang again and I answered it, thinking it was Jonathan.

“Please don’t hang up, Claire.” It was the asshole again. “I’m...I’m so sorry that I pushed you—I never meant to hurt you like that...Please believe me.”

“I don’t. And I really hope you’re out of town because there are lots of people looking for you right now.”

He sighed. “I just want to let you know that Amanda is recovering from her surgery very well.” He paused. “Phase two was a week ago and it was risky, but it actually worked.”

“Well, good for her and good for you. Try not to push her out of the window. Goodbye.” I hung up.

He called back but I didn’t answer. Then he called two more times before I finally put my phone on silent.

I was about to call Jonathan and tell him I’d be outside, but Ryan sent me a text: “One of your employees mentioned you being at St. Francis...She’s in the same place...Room 2323...I won’t be there so you won’t have to talk to me—or see me...Just tell her hello. That’s all I’m asking...”

**

I wasn’t sure what made me change my mind, but there I was in line for a visitation pass, considering coming face to face with the woman who’d drastically altered my life.

The bright lights and taupe walls were triggering memories of years past, years when Amanda would be bedridden for the entire summer, when I would bring her teddy bears and catch her up on all the gossip she’d missed from the first week of high school classes.

It always used to pain me to see her body connected to numerous tubes, but I’d never let my concern show on my face. I always told her that “This time is the last time. You’ll never be in this room again.” And after we graduated high school together I’d believed those words were true.

“Next!” The woman at the security desk motioned for me to step forward. “I need your license and your parking ticket from the garage for verification. If you caught the bus, I need a separate form of ID.”

I handed her my license and my therapy card.

“Who are you here to see, Miss Gracen?”

“Amanda Meadows. Oncology.”

“Amanda Meadows?” She shook her head at her screen.

“I’m sorry.” I cleared my throat. “Amanda Hayes. She’s married...”

She nodded and filled out a green ID badge before handing it over to me. “Visiting hours are over at nine unless you’re given special permission by the doctors on that floor. Keep your ID badge on at all times. You’ll get your license back once you return it. She’s on level twenty three. Next!”

I slid my purse over my shoulder and walked to the elevators, taking a deep breath.

Why am I doing this? I don’t owe her anything...

Before I could talk myself out of seeing her, the elevator doors sprung open and I forced myself to step inside. It took several minutes before I reached the twenty third floor; the car seemed to stop on every level and everyone who stepped on was pre-occupied with whatever conversation they were having on their cellphones.

“Twenty. Three.” The elevator system’s speaker droned out and I pushed my way to the front to step off. 

I looked down on my ID badge where Amanda’s room number was written and headed to the left. Each room I passed had cards and ‘Get Well Soon’ messages taped onto the door frames.

Room 2323....

I stopped directly in front of the door, forcing myself not to wince as her name—Amanda Hayes, stared me right in the face in red writing.

I knocked four times but there was no answer. I shrugged and decided to walk away, but I heard a faint “Come in.”

I hesitated, wondering if I should face her or not.

I twisted the handle and stepped inside. When I rounded the corner, her eyes immediately met mine.

I stood there completely frozen, taken aback by her ghastly appearance. Her skin was pale, her eyes seemed yellowed, and all of her hair had been shaved off. She didn’t look anything like the woman I’d seen in the catering store.

I looked next to her bed and spotted a full, brown wig hanging off the nightstand.

“Claire?” She croaked as she slowly sat up. “I didn’t think you would actually come to see me...”

“Me either.” I kept my distance. “I heard your surgery went well.”

She nodded. “Yeah. It did.”

“Well, good for you...” My eyes veered towards the flower arrangements that were sitting on her window sill. They were all red roses—polo style. The exact same ones Ryan used to give to me when we were married.

“Would you like to take a seat?” She cleared her throat. “If you’re not too busy that is...”

“Actually, I am.” I took a step back. “I’m not even sure why I came here in the first place...I wish you well with everything and—good to know you’ll be well in the years to come...Goodbye, Amanda...” I turned to walk away, but she mustered a throaty “Wait!” from her lungs.

I paused and barely looked over my shoulder.

“Please, listen...If you find a small—however small it may be, part in your heart that would forgive me for what I did to you, what I did to us and our friendship...I would really appreciate it. I’m trying to really fix my life and work on being more positive so I...I would just like a clean slate...”

“A clean slate?” I slowly turned back around. “Is that what you said?”

She gave a weak nod. “I don’t want this to weigh down on my conscience anymore...There are some days that the very thought of what I did...It makes me so sick that I can’t stomach it and I literally vomit or cry myself to sleep...It’s been years and I still can’t get over it. I want you to know that I really am sorry, Claire—for everything I put you through.” She paused. “I know we can’t be friends again—and as much as I wish that that wasn’t true, I just...I just want to be able to have a clear conscience again—to go a full year without waking up in the middle of the night thinking about what happened... ”

I took a deep breath and tried to swallow down the bitterness that I’d felt for years, that disgusting taste of betrayal. But it was still there—sour as ever, and sick or not, she was still a bitch.

I strolled over to her bedside and looked her right in her eyes, tempted to squeeze her oxygen bag until she begged me to stop.

“It should weigh down on your conscience every day.” I hissed. “Every. Fucking. Day. Every time you look into his eyes—the ones I used to tell you about, remember? How they look gray in the summer time and green in the fall? Every time he’s lying on top of you and you have to look at that tattoo on his chest—the one that reads “Claire” but can’t be removed because that small keloid is right underneath it, you should feel like shit. You don’t deserve a clear conscience, Amanda, and you’ll never get a clean slate from me. Ever.”

“Claire—”

“No.” I didn’t give her a chance for a rebuttal. “I want you to know that I am engaged to the man of my dreams—the man of my fucking dreams. He is everything I could ever want in a man and so much more than Ryan could ever be. And even though I had to lose Ryan to find him, I didn’t need to lose him the way that I did—the way you took him from me.”

“I’m sorry...”

“You ruined my happily ever after, Amanda. And it wasn’t a one-time thing either. This was going on for months! Behind my back! How could you even live with yourself back then? How could you smile at me and hang out with me knowing damn well that you...” I couldn’t look at her without getting angry, and I suddenly felt my hand twitching. “You let me hang out with you with no fucking remorse whatsoever—you just let me go about my life as if nothing was going on. But the whole time you knew! You knew what the fuck was going on and you just—”

Before I could complete the slap of the century, I felt someone grabbing my wrist from behind and holding it still. Jonathan.

I saw Amanda squinting her eyes shut as if she were still waiting for my hand to connect with her cheek, then I slowly turned around to face Jonathan.

His eyebrow was raised and the look on his face was one of confusion, uncertainty—disappointment.

“Step outside, Claire.” He wiped a tear away from my face. “Now.”

I didn’t even bother looking back at Amanda. I wanted to remember her face how it was seconds ago for the rest of my life.

Cowardly bitch....

I stepped outside and headed into the ladies’ restroom next door. Frustrated, I leaned over the sink and splashed my face with water over and over again.

“I really didn’t mean to push you...” Ryan cleared his throat, startling me and forcing me to turn around.

“Stay the hell away from me, Ryan. I’m not in the mood for any more of your bullshit and you’ve caused enough trouble. Go comfort your wife.” I strolled past him, but he grabbed my elbow and pressed me against the wall.

“Listen...” There were tears in his eyes. “I didn’t expect you to come see her, but thank you. Regardless of if you forgave her or not, I think you coming here meant a lot to her. And to me.”

“You really do need professional help...” I tried to move away, but he was pinning me against the door.

“For the record, it was just lust, Claire—what she and I had. It eventually grew into love, but...”

“I honestly don’t give a damn about you or her. I don’t know how many ways I can possibly say it, but if you could just...” I looked at his arms and darted my eyes to the door. “Just let me go so I can leave.”

“Not until you listen to me.”

I sighed. If my legs weren’t so stiff, I would’ve attempted to break free and run for the door, but I knew there was no way I’d get past him.

“Ryan...” I sighed again for emphasis. “There are priests all over this city who are willing to listen to your problems for free. Find one of them because I don’t have the time.”

“I would like a second chance with you, Claire.”

The earth fell away at my feet and I lost the ability to speak. I was shocked. Blown Away. Disgusted.

“You heard me...” He brought his face close to mine. “A second chance. You and me. It can be calm and easy again. I know it because that’s who we were.”

“The moment I lost you I felt empty,” he continued. “I had no idea that you would pack up and leave the way you did. I mean, just because I said that I’d always had feelings for Amanda, didn’t mean that I didn’t have any left for you. I was just...in a tough spot in my life. I thought you would at least reconsider the divorce, but you just...You filed the very next day. I wasn’t expecting that...”

“Ryan...” I barely managed. “Stop it...Stop it right now.”

“Everything happened so fast...Months later you moved all the way out here and you just cut me off like I was—”

“Worthless? Pathetic? Full of shit?”

“You were just angry.” He pressed his thumb over my lips. “And you had every right to be...But people make mistakes Claire...I tried making it work with Amanda. I did the right thing and I married her but...All we ever did the first year and a half was talk about how guilty we felt over what we did to you.”

I tried my hardest to block him out. I didn’t want to hear the rest of this. I didn’t care.

“You know I never meant to push you down those steps...” he said as he cupped my chin. “And even though your new fiancée got me fired and blacklisted me from every single firm in Pittsburgh...I think that you and I could rebuild what we had in Pittsburgh again. I have enough saved up and I really believe that. Amanda is talking about divorce for the fifth time and I think she finally means it...Can’t you see? Our lives weren’t worth much without you in it—which is exactly why you should take me back. I know how badly you’ve missed me, because I’ve missed you, too.”

I felt my eyes widening as far as they could go. This was a painful sight to see, but for some reason I couldn’t look away.

“What the two of us had was special...” He caressed my cheek with the back side of his palm. “It was something I’ve never felt before. All these years I’ve wished that I could go back in time and change what I—”

The next thing I saw was a fist connecting with his jaw. It took me several seconds to realize that it was Jonathan and he was punching him, so hard that I heard his bones cracking.

Ryan tried to fight back, swinging his fists in the air, but Jonathan sent a fist straight into his eye—knocking him against the wall.

I thought he would leave him alone—that he would allow him to suffer with a bloodied eye and a cracked jaw. But he stepped closer and jabbed Ryan in the ribs again and again—until he slid down to the floor, murmuring—pleading for him to stop. Unconvinced, Jonathan stood over him and punched his face repeatedly, until he couldn’t utter another word.

I clutched my chest and gasped at the ugly sight in front of me: Ryan was curled up into a ball with his eyes swollen shut, bleeding all over the floor.

Calm as ever, Jonathan walked over to the sink and rolled up his sleeves, taking all the time in the world to wash his hands. When he was done, he grabbed a paper towel and dried them as if he hadn’t just beat someone to near death.

He looked into my eyes as he took out his cell phone. “Greg? Yes. I’m on the twenty third floor. Women’s restroom. Could you get someone up here to help Mr. Hayes down to the ER, please? He’s in desperate need of assistance.” He paused. “I’m taking Claire down to return her ID badge and we’ll meet you in the garage. Have Sean take my car home. Thank you.”

He hung up and slipped his arm around my waist, walking me out of the room. There were no words between us, no glances either.

I wasn’t sure how I made it downstairs, or how long it took to get my license back, but the next thing I knew I was sitting in the back seat of the town car, watching the streets rush past in the window.

As we were approaching the expressway, I turned to face Jonathan. “You almost killed him...”

“He put his hands on you,” he said. “He’s lucky I didn’t.”

I swallowed and sat silently by his side, still in shock at the scene that had unfolded in that bathroom. I had no idea he was capable of beating someone that terribly.

“Did you really have him fired...And blacklisted at every firm in Pittsburgh?” I whispered.

“No...Every firm in the country.”

Silence.

“You didn’t hit Amanda...” My voice was shaking. “Did you?”

“I’ve never hit a woman, Claire.” He looked into my eyes. “And I never will...I told her that you weren’t interested in being contacted by either one of them again, and that I didn’t want my future wife to have any more sleepless nights due to their interference.” He lifted my hand and circled his thumb around my knuckles. “I paid for her surgery since it might be a little harder for them to afford since Ryan isn’t working, and I’ll have the hospital bill me for his injuries as well.”

I was sure there was still fear in my eyes, because he cupped my face in his hands and pressed his lips against mine. “I’ll hurt anyone who hurts you, Claire. Anyone.”

I nodded and he pulled me up against his chest, stroking my back with his fingertips. “You’ll never have to worry about either of them again.”