chapter
10
There’s no loyalty among friends.
That’s all I could think as I peered out the peephole of my hotel room.
My husband was standing on the other side, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. He had bags under his eyes, his pupils were pierced with redness. And he was here, outside Room 316. The only way he’d have known I was here was if Yvonne had opened her big mouth.
“I see you looking at me,” Clark said. “Open the door, Savannah, please? You said we could talk.”
“I lied. Just like you did when you claimed to love me.”
“I haven’t lied to you, Savannah. I do love you. With all my heart,” he pleaded.
“What do you want?” I shouted. “How did you convince Yvonne to sell me out?”
“She knows how much I love you,” he replied.
I was going to kill Yvonne. I sighed, then said, “Clark, go away. I don’t want to talk to you.”
He stared like he was trying to see through the door. “So, are you just going to stay holed up in this hotel forever?”
“I’m going to stay here until I’m ready to leave,” I yelled.
“Then I’m going to stay here until you’re ready to talk to me.”
I peeked out of the peephole again. “You’re going to be waiting a mighty long time.”
“Cool,” he said, taking off his jacket and setting it on the floor. I was surprised that he wasn’t at work. He was the director of the Boys & Girls Club of Houston, and I knew they had a big event today. The fact that he was here and not there spoke volumes.
I peered down until I couldn’t see him. “I’m going to call Security,” I yelled.
“And I’m going to make a scene, and you know you don’t like scenes,” he replied.
I waited a few moments as I gathered my thoughts. I liked it here. The last thing I wanted was to get kicked out. Finally, I leaned back in toward the door and said, “So, you’re just going to bully me into talking with you?”
“That’s what marriage is, Savannah. You don’t run from your problems. You stand strong and face them head-on,” he announced.
“Don’t preach to me about what marriage is,” I yelled back through the door. I inhaled, trying to calm myself down. “Just go away, Clark.”
“Nope,” he replied. “I’ll stay right here until you hear me out.”
Clark could be so headstrong. He was strong, period. As I stood by the door, my mind raced back to the only time I’d seen him falter.
My husband was living under a cloud of grief. I understood because it had been my home for months. But still, I tried to do what I could to bring him out.
“Clark, maybe you should go talk to someone,” I told him one day after he’d been sitting on the patio smoking a cigar for three hours.
“Not now, Savannah,” he replied, not even looking my way. “I just want to be left alone.”
Instead of doing what I’d been doing since Rob’s death—closing the door and going back into the house—I walked outside and sat next to him on the patio sofa.
“I miss Rob, too,” I said.
Clark was silent.
“But it’s like you told me, at some point you have to move on.”
With a slow turn, he looked at me and frowned. “Really, Savannah? It’s been a month, and your answer is to just move on? You think you can just say get over it and all is well?” he snapped. “You, of all people, know it’s not that easy.”
“No, you know that’s not what I’m saying.” I was trying to recall all the things he had said to me to pull me out of my grief, but over the past month it seemed as if everything I’d said had been the wrong thing, so I remained hesitant to push him.
“I was just thinking—”
“Can you give me some time, please?” he asked, cutting me off.
I let out a heavy sigh. I knew his irritation wasn’t with me, but with his struggle to deal with Rob’s death. I just hated that he was shutting me out of the healing process.
The sound of Clark singing “At Last” brought me out of the past. My stomach fluttered against my will. That was the song that had been playing when he proposed. And we had our first dance to the song at our wedding. It was our song.
I shook away the thought.
No! I screamed inside, trying desperately to push away the memory. Clark and I no longer had a song. And he could be stubborn, but so could I. He could sit out there all night for all I cared.