Rhythm (20 page)

That’s when he starts to cry, rocking back
and forth in his chair.

“You don’t deserve me, Rhy. We need a divorce
because you don’t deserve me.”

“What? I’m confused. The whole time we’re
talking you made it very clear that
I
messed everything up,
that I’m the one to blame here. I get your point. I understand now.
But why would you say I don’t des—”

“Lola’s pregnant,” he says, almost a
whisper.

“I know. I’m the one who’s always with her in
all her check-ups because that dumb of a guy who knocked her up is
a coward who doesn’t know how to take responsibility. Wait, why
would you change the sub—”

“I’m the father.”

No. No. Nnnnooo.

I am in an ocean. I am in the middle of it.
I swim and swim. Until I feel the weight on my feet. Something’s
pulling me down, down, down. I find something to grab. But I can’t
see anything. It’s dark. I’m blind. I thrash my arms. I don’t have
arms. Then my legs are gone, too. Little by little, the ocean is
consuming me. I can’t breathe. My lungs are filled with water. I
feel happy. I’m going to die and I feel happy. No more hurts,
worries, pains, fears, no nothing. I am free. Finally.

I wake up, heaving.
It’s just a dream
,
I tell myself.

“Rip, you okay, baby? It’s just a dream.
Don’t worry. It’s just a dream.”

I stare at him to check if he’s really here.
Grant. Grant is here.

I’m about to ask what happened, but I
remember everything.

Lola’s pregnant.

I’m the father.

And the car colliding with a tree.

I’m ready to shout, to wail, to throw things
at him, but I can’t. It’s like my body’s restrained.

Grant watches me, rubbing his neck in
frustration. “What’s happening? Someone tell me what is happening
with her! Please!” he begs.

“She’s in a shock, Mr. Peterson. You have to
calm down. It won’t help her seeing you like that,” a doctor tells
him patiently.

“Seeing me like this? She’s not even
blinking! Do something! Please, do something!”

“We’ll have to ask you to come outside, Mr.
Peterson.”

“I don’t want to leave her. I’m not leaving
her.”

He grabs my hand and kisses me on the
forehead. “I’m sorry, Rip. This is my fault. I’m so sorry.”

Two men assist him outside.

And then everything went blank.

Grant

I can’t forgive myself if Will and Alexa will
lose their mommy. I’m stupid crazy thinking that telling her is the
right thing to do, but I guess it is. The moment I went to our home
and saw Ben, I realized how stupid my idea was, and my resolve was
to make the first step: be honest with her. I just wish I didn’t
let her drive when she’s upset.

“Hey,” Lola approaches.

I acknowledge her with a nod.

“Any updates?”

“She already knows, Lola. I told her. That’s
why she’s here. I did this to her.”

She joins me in my grief and cry.

“I’m sorry, Grant. I never wished for your
family to deal with this kind of drama,” she sobs. “I hope she
forgives me. I don’t know if what I did to her is even forgivable,
but . . . I just hope.”

I don’t answer. I don’t know how to comfort
her because I myself need it very badly.

“Mr. Peterson, she’s awake. You can go to her
room now.”

“I’m sorry, Lola. I don’t think she’s ready
to see you yet. Well, both of us, for that matter. But I need to
see her. I’ll let you know if she asks for you.”

She nods. “I understand.”

I will give everything and anything to remove
the look on Rhy’s face. She’s pale as paper towel. She’s staring
blankly. She’s in so much pain.

“Hey, Rip. How are you doing?”

She doesn’t stir. Does she even hear me? I
don’t know, but I will tell her everything I want to say.

“Rhy, I’m very sorry for causing you so much
pain. I lied. I still love you, Rip . . . so much. I asked for a
divorce because I didn’t think you deserve someone like me. You’re
right. I’m a coward. When I learned about Lola’s pregnancy, I want
to run. I don’t know what to do, but that’s beside the point. I’ve
sinned against you, my wife, and I thought that by asking for a
divorce, it would be easier for you. When Lola and I did . . . it,
I felt that our actions were justified. I blamed you for what I
did. I believed that it’s your fault why I was able to do it. You
may have some decisions or actions that made me blame you, but no,
Rip—you’re not the sole person to blame. We are a team, and I
forgot about that. I don’t want to play the blame game now. We’re
in this together, Rip. Together.”

There’s nothing more I can think of that I
want to say. Besides, she’s still in shock. I think what she needs
is rest, not some confessions.

“Rest, my love. I’ll never leave you
again.”

Rhythm

Once in a while I hear voices—of Grant,
Alexa, Will, Lola, Mama, Papa, Olivia, my siblings, Isaac, Walter,
Sam, the doctor, some nurse. I hear them, but when I wake up—really
wake up—I only remember bits and pieces of what they’ve been
talking about.

Like now, I know that it’s been five days
since the accident because I hear Grant talking with the twins.
Will and Alexa are making a countdown how long I’ve been
‘sleeping’.

“Daddy, today’s Mommy’s fifth day of
sleeping, right?” Will asks.

Grant replies softly, “Yes, that’s right. She
needs to sleep more so she can be Super Mommy once she wakes up.
You like that? A Super Mommy?”

“I like that, Daddy!” Will exclaims.

“How about you, Alexa?”

“If she becomes a Super Mommy, she will not
cry anymore?”

I hear Grant sighs. “Maybe. I’m not sure,
honey.”

“Okay, play time you two. Let Daddy rest with
Mommy. Come on, guys.” Lola guides the twins outside.

Lola.

She stops and glances at Grant—then at
me.

Did I say her name out loud?

“Rip, you awake now?” Grant asks, his voice
full of hope.

“Lola,” I say. My voice is gruff.

They look at each other.

“What do you want, babe? I’m here.” Grant’s
voice seems to be pleading.

“Lola,” I repeat. I lay my eyes on her and
don’t remove it until they both get what I mean.

Grant leaves with the kids and Lola . . . she
doesn’t know what to do. She fidgets as she walks towards me.

I signal for her to take a seat and wait for
almost an eternity before I speak.

“Why?”

She babbles, saying, “I’m very sorry, Rhy.
There’s no acceptable reason with what I did to you. I will
understand if you don’t want me in your life anymore. I really
will. Just hear me out. I don’t really know that Grant will ask for
a divorce. We’re not in a relationship, I’m not a mistress—” She
sobs some more. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to protect myself. Call me
anything you want, but . . . Rhy, I’m so sorry.”

“How many times?”
Do I really want to
know?

She gives me a once-over to check if she
heard me wrong.

“Rhy . . .”

“Just tell me. How. Many. Times.”

“Once,” she murmurs.

I pfft.

“Okay, twice.”

“You really have the nerve to lie to me now?
How many times?”

Her face reddens. “Several.”

“Several . . . like HOW MANY FREAKING TIMES,
LOLA?”

“Okay! You really want to know? Six. No. Make
that seven. There,” she raises her voice to appear confident, but I
can see her whole body shaking.

“When did it start?”

“Rhy, you don’t have to do this. You’re only
twisting the knife that I stabbed you with. Don’t make this hard
for you.”

“For me or you?” I challenge her. “You will
not leave that chair unless you tell me everything. You owe me that
much, Lola. That much and more.”

“Fine. You want it, you’ll have it.”

I brace myself for the pain I am about to
inflict myself.

Lola

“In a minute,” I have a date with Cale and
this is different. I think I might have found my own Grant.

I open the door and see Grant instead.

“Hey, Lols. I’m sorry to interrupt. You seem
to be leaving,” he slurs.

“Oh, no. It’s okay. What is it? Is everything
good with Rip?”

He doesn’t answer right away. “May I come
in?”

“Sure. Want something to drink? Water?”

He nods.

I type a quick text message for Cale.

Sorry. Got caught up with some Rip
issues. See you tomorrow?

I get a quick reply.

:( Aw. Tomorrow then,
beautiful.

“Here, drink.” I offer him the water. “What
is it?” I ask for him to open up.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Mind if I
crash here?”

“I don’t, but your wife definitely will. I’m
her best friend, yes, but I’m a girl, in case you missed it. It’s
not proper for a married man to be crashing in an apartment of some
single lady.”

“You’re not some single lady. You’re
Lols.”

“Have you been drinking?” I sniff him.
“Right. And that’s the more reason you need to go home. I’ll call
Rip and tell her to fetch you.”

“No. Please don’t, Lols. I’ll shut up. Just
let me sleep. Besides, Rip’s not home. She’s working. As
always.”

I analyze the situation first before saying,
“Fine. Couch okay with you?”

He bobs his head up and down.

I prepare the couch and let him sleep.

“Can you walk? It’s a short distance from
here.”

He nods.

Yes, he can walk
with
assistance.

When we’re in front of the couch, he’s
already half asleep, so I guide him slowly. But he’s too heavy; I
find it hard to untangle myself.

“Rip, I’ve missed you,” Grant murmurs then
kisses me.

No. No. No. “Grant, let me go. I’m not Rip!”
I try so hard to free myself, but he has a death grip on me.

“Rip, baby, let’s make love. It’s been a
while, don’t you think?”

“No, we’re not making love because no, I’m
not Rip!” I shout at him. “Grant, get your hands off me!”

His hold on me softens, and I run away from
him. I look at him from afar and see that he’s already asleep.

I hope he doesn’t remember this tomorrow.

I quickly go to my room and lock my door.

That didn’t happen. Nothing happened. I
repeat this mantra over and over until sleep consumes me.

I wake up to the sound of alarm clock then go
straight to the kitchen and prepare a coffee. My day always starts
with a cup of coffee.
Hmm . . . delicious.

A sound makes me turn around.

Grant.

And his mouth is gaping.

Oh, shoot!

I drop the cup of coffee and run for my life.
How could I forget that he’s here? And I’m naked! I always sleep
without clothes, and . . . oh, my word! He saw everything!

I am startled by Grant’s voice. “Uhm, Lols?
Sorry about that. Are you okay?”

When I don’t answer, he adds, “I think you
stepped into some of the broken cup. Are your feet okay?”

I peep at them and notice that my right foot
is bleeding. I want to say, “I’m okay,” but I can’t deal with
blood. “Help me with my foot, will you? It’s bleeding.”

“Sure.”

I put on a robe and let him in.

“Here’s the first aid kit.” I give it to him
casually.

He works on my foot and when he’s done, he
prepares to speak.

“No, Grant. Don’t you dare tease me about a
while ago. That’s not very funny.”

“Uh . . . I just want to apologize—for last
night.”

Of course, he didn’t forget.

“No worries. You were drunk.”

He shrugs.

This is kind of awkward, if you may ask. I’m
in a robe sitting in my bed, and he’s still holding my foot.

I’m about to remove my injured foot from his
hands when he kisses me, and I surprise myself by kissing him
back.

“Grant, what are you doing? What are
we
doing? This isn’t right. You have a wife and she happens
to be my best friend.”

All the while I’m talking he’s looking at me
as if not a single word I tell him registers.

He kisses me again. I kiss him back. Again.
Even if I’m not experienced, I know that this will lead to more
than just a kiss. But I let him.

Rhythm

“That was the first time, and if I remember
it right, it’s the day after your anniversary. The night he came to
me was your anniversary and he said you were at work—as
always.”

I am as composed as I can be that I am a
little bit worried. Isn’t this the time I should go UFC with
Lola?

“The other times?”

She tells me every single detail because I
forced her to. I don’t realize until now that I’m not only a
detailed kind of person. I’m a detailed kind of masochist.

Without further ado, here are the dates they
ruined for me:

November 26th - after our 4th year
wedding anniversary; 1st

December 26th - after our 8th year
Christmas together since we became a couple; 2nd

March 14th - after Grant’s 26th
birthday; 3rd

October 5th - after Alexa and
Will’s 4th birthday; 4th

November 9th - after my 26th
birthday; 5th (and most probably the day Lola got
pregnant)

November 26th - after our 5th
wedding anniversary—their ‘anniversary’—the day after Grant asked
for a divorce; 6th and 7th (a parting gift, I believe)

I want to punch myself thinking about those
dates. I remember how workaholic I was during those times, and the
occasions preceding those dates? I’ll admit. I was never
home—except for our 5th anniversary. Never. So to think that they
did it?
What did Grant tell me one time? Justified. Yes.
They’re actions are justified—in a twisted kind of way.