Sex and the Social Network (24 page)

Monday morning came way too soon.
BZZ … came the sound of a text. I didn’t want to look, but I couldn’t stop myself. It was Todd.

TODD: Hey, gorgeous. How’s my favorite fuck buddy?

I felt sick to my stomach. Why wouldn’t he just leave me alone?

GABBY: Hey, Todd. How are you?

TODD: I’m awesome! I had a great time on Saturday night. Come meet me tonight for a little while.

GABBY: No, I really can’t, Todd. I can’t see you anymore at all. Please stop texting me.

TODD: WTF, babe? Come over tonight after work or else…

Tears began to form in my eyes. Oh, no. Please, God, please tell me he is not still blackmailing me.

GABBY: Or else what?

TODD: Or else I promise you will regret it.

I knew denying Todd was a dangerous choice, but saying yes to him felt even more so. I was done; I couldn’t bear to look at him ever again.

GABBY: I don’t know what else to say, Todd. I’m not sure why you want to hurt me, but I am not meeting you tonight, not ever again.

TODD: Babe, you’re killing me. I don’t want to hurt you. I want to make you feel good. :)

GABBY: Fuck off. Don’t text me. Don’t call me. Just leave me the hell alone.

TODD: Okay.

What? Had Todd really just conceded? That was too easy. I let out a big breath and just had to hope and pray he would leave me alone.

❧

Luckily, work kept me busy on Monday, so I didn’t have time to wallow too much in my own sorrow.

I spent the
day catching up on the weekend’s emails and putting together a presentation for Wednesday’s staff meeting. I threw myself into my work, and it wasn’t until I went out to do errands at lunch that I even thought about Todd and Floyd. I felt sick thinking about the “game” we played and how viciously, how cruelly Todd had treated me.

By the time I got back to the office, I could barely see straight. I needed vodka. I needed to not remember what happened. I didn’t have any in my desk, and I didn’t have time to run out for any either. All I could do was throw myself back into my job and get through the day. I could drink when I got home.

Monday night was an ordinary night in the Clayton household. It was, that is, until it wasn’t. It was an evening of roast chicken, wild rice, and broccoli. It was an evening of two kids, two parents, and a sweet dog, Roxie. It was an evening of pure, suburban perfection.

After the kids were tucked in bed, Steven went to play on Facebook for a few minutes b
efore we sat down to watch TV and eat some ice cream. I went into his office to ask him how much longer, and his face was all twisted.

“Gabby, why is Todd Roberts sending me an email?”

My knees started to give way. It took everything in my body not to collapse. My legs felt like lead, but somehow I managed to walk slowly over to him. “I don’t know. Weird.” My voice cracked.

Steven opened the email and read aloud.

Hey, Steven, this is Todd, Gabby’s friend from work. Hope you enjoy this video as much as I did.

After the short message, there was a link to a video called “hotmilfywives.” Steven clicked on it before I could stop him and there, on his computer screen in his office, in our house, was a video of me fucking Todd and Floyd.

I froze, unable to talk or move or even cry.

“What the fuck is this? Gabby? What the hell is this? Is this some kind of joke?” Steven had lost all control and was yelling as loud as I had ever heard him.

I wanted to look away, but I was transfixed watching myself suck Floyd while Todd did me from behind. I listened with horror as I moaned, as they laughed and carried on with their hootin’ and hollerin’.

The son of a bitch had videotaped Saturday night, put it on a porn site, and sent a link to my husband. What kind of person does that?

“Sleep in the guest room, you sick bitch. And tomorrow I’m calling Frank; he’s the best divorce attorney in the city. We are OVER!”

I didn’t even try to protest; I deserved everything he said and all that was coming to me. My life would never be the same, and the devastation was more than I could process.

In the bathroom cabinet, I found some sleeping pills and took three. There was no sense in staying awake; no nightmare could be worse than the hell I had made of my life.

❧

The next morning I woke up to Kerri and Katie climbing on me and kissing me awake.

“Mommy, Mama, wake up. What’s wrong? Why are you sleeping in here?”

My sweet little darlings, I didn’t deserve th
eir love. “Hi, loveys. I don’t feel well, so I slept in the guest room so I wouldn’t get Daddy sick.”

Kerri looked up at me with her huge doe eyes. “Okay, Mommy. You better go back to sleep then. Daddy said he’d take us to preschool today.”

I brought my girls closer to me, squeezed them so tight, held on to their little hands.

Kerri squeezed my hand back. “Mommy, I want to hold your hand forever.”

“Aw, honey, me too.” I had to fight back the tears.

Her eyes got wider and misty. “Mama, I want to hold your hand forever… that way when you die and go to heaven I can
go with you.”

I grabbed my little Kerri and hugged her tighter than I ever had. My heart hurt so much. How could I feel so much joy and so much pain at the same time? How could love be something so pure and wonderful in the eyes of my sweet daughters and something so warped in someone like me, someone who’s had her heart and soul trampled on time and time again?

I kissed my darling girls and held them close. I loved my two little angels more than life itself.

Steven popped his head into the room. “Hey girls, go down and grab your backpacks. I have to talk to Mommy for a minute.” The girls skipped out of my room without a care in the world.

“I spoke to Frank this morning and told him about our situation. He said I have an open and shut case, and if I want full custody of the girls, he has no doubt I’ll get it. And that’s what I’m going to do. Our kids don’t deserve to have a whore for their mother, and you sure don’t deserve them.”

I was sobbing. I knew Steven meant what he said and would punish me by taking my girls.

“Pack a bag, bitch. I’ll arrange for your other stuff to be delivered to wherever you end up.”

“Steven, please.” I begged him. “Can you please just give me a chance to explain?”

“No. There is absolutely nothing that you can say that will make me forgive you or ever understand what you did. We have two beautiful girls, a house, a home, and a life, one I thought was pretty fucking good too! There is nothing you can say that will explain why you chose to throw our marriage and family away just to have sex with two men.”

“It wasn’t like that. Please,” I begged him.

“I have to go to work now. Some of us actually care about how the normal world operates. Like I said, I want you out by the time I get home. Don’t make this difficult. I’ll tell the kids you went to your sister’s for a while.” And with that, he closed the door behind him.

Despondent doesn’t even scratch the surface of how I was feeling. I lay in the guest room bed for an hour before I made myself get up. I dragged myself to the bathroom; the cold trave
rtine tile on my feet sent shivers through my battered body.

I hated Todd. I hated Steven for not letting me explain, but I hated myself more than an
yone or anything in the whole world. My girls were my life, my everything. Steven would take them away from me; he’d meant what he said. Without my girls, I didn’t want to live.

Suddenly, I felt better. There was a way out. The idea of losing my girls, my husband, my life, the thought of my friends and family finding out: it was just too much to bear. My life had already been so full of pain. I just wanted the hurt to be over.

The medicine cabinet was full of narcotics. Steven had some leftover OxyContin from his car accident, and I had half a bottle of Percocet from when I had knee surgery.

A bottle of Evian was on my nightstand, so I grabbed five Oxys and took a huge swig of water to wash them down. I wondered how long until I’d feel sleepy, how long before the pai
nkillers could numb the pain in my heart.

Twenty minutes passed and I barely felt anything, so I popped three Percocets. I went i
nto my bedroom, grabbed a few photo albums off the bookshelf, and started looking at my beautiful girls. Katie was such a chubby baby and always smiling. Kerri had the biggest, bluest eyes and came into this world looking like she had been here before. I threw down the album, grabbed a frame off the shelf, and brought it back with me into the bathroom.

Okay, ten more Oxys and a few swigs of vodka, and my body started to realize I meant business. I felt light headed; I knew my time was limited. I didn’t want to chicken out, so I quic
kly filled the hot tub. Rosemary bubble bath always helped me relax.

My iPhone had over a thousand songs to choose from, but I knew which one would be playing for my final act. Thank you Mom, for introducing me to Broadway, to my favorite musical of all time, Les Misérables.

I set my iPhone music to repeat “I Dreamed a Dream.” Tears started streaming down my face. Quickly, I grabbed a pen and paper. I had to tell my girls how much I loved them. I left the note on my bed and hurried back into the bathroom. I was getting so sleepy.

I dreamed a dream in time gone by

When hope was high and life worth living

I dreamed that love would never die

I dreamed that God would be forgiving

I climbed into the tub with the bottle of vodka in one hand and the pills in the other.

Then I was young and unafraid

And dreams were made and used and wasted

There was no ransom to be paid…

My tears were coming so fast I didn’t even try to stop them. Flashbacks filled my foggy mind: my uncle raping me, Todd and Floyd laughing at me, abusing me, sucking the life out of me.

But the tigers come at night

With their voices soft as thunder

As they turn your hope apart

As they turn your dreams to shame

I replayed the horror of seeing Steven watch the video of me on his computer and the absolute hatred and disgust on his face. No amount of pain was as great as hearing him tell me that I had to leave and that he would take my girls from me. My sweet, sweet angels. I picked up the frame and looked at their smiling faces. I kissed the frame. “I love you, Kerri. I love you, Katie. Please know Mama is always with you. I’ll be with you forever.”

I had a dream my life would be

So different from the hell I'm living

So different now from what it seemed

Now life has killed the dream I dreamed.

I could barely keep my eyes open; sleep was calling my name. I knew it was almost time. I wanted it to be over already, so I took five more Oxys and a big swig of vodka. I prayed to God, if there was a God, to take care of my girls, to help them forgive me, to help them know that my love would always be with them. And then I closed
my eyes for the very last time.

I thought what Maria was going through was horrible until I got the kind of phone call no one ever wants to receive. It was after ten o’clock when my cell rang, kind of late for a school night. It was my friend Amy.

“Liz, listen. I have some really sad news. Can you sit down?”

“What’s wrong?” I felt a knot in my stomach.

“There is no easy way to say this. Gabby committed suicide this morning.”

The phone fell from my hands. Oh my God, no! Not Gabby. I grabbed the phone off the floor. “Oh my God, why? Where? How?”

“Apparently, she took a bunch of pain killers and vodka and then got into her hot tub.”

“Why? Why would she do that?” This couldn’t be happening.

“I don’t know all the details, but I heard a rumor that she cheated on Steven with Todd Roberts and he found out.”

I felt sick to my stomach. I knew all about Gabby’s affair with Todd; why hadn’t I done more to try and stop her? “Oh my God, that is so sad. Poor Gabby, why didn’t she talk to anyone? What about her little girls?”

“I don’t know, Liz. Sorry, I don’t have any more information. But I thought you would want to know.”

“Thank you for calling me, Amy. If you hear anything else, please call me.”

I hung up the phone and just sat there. Gabby had killed herself. How could anything be so bad to have to make that choice? I sat on my couch and sobbed; it was so dumb, so tragic.

The next day I got an email from Steven.

Hi Liz,

I know you were one of Gabby’s good friends, and I know she looked up to you. The funeral is tomorrow at St. Joseph’s Church at 10 a.m. If you could please tell her friends that you know, I’d appreciate it. Also she left this note. I’m not going to share it at the service, but I think she would want you to read it.

Thanks,

Steven

My Dearest Loved Ones,

I am so sorry I had to go. I made some horrible choices that I knew I’d have to live with, and I just couldn’t go on. Living without my girls would have been a fate worse than death. St
even, I don’t blame you for wanting to take the girls. This is just easier, no divorce attorneys and messy battles. They will hate me less being dead than being a whore who abandoned them.

Please kiss them every day for me. Tell them how much I love them and how they were my everything.

I love you all forever. I pray you will forgive me.

All my love, now and always,

Gabby

Tears were streaming down my face. Poor Gabby, poor Steven. I couldn’t imagine the hell he must be in. My heart broke for their little girls. I had never met them, but their pictures were plastered all over Gabby’s cubicle. Her face lit up every time she mentioned them, and I knew she loved them more than anything. I couldn’t believe Gabby was really gone.

How could I not have seen this coming? Why hadn’t I listened to Gabby’s cries for help? But much like when people are drowning, they can’t shout for help. They’re mostly submerged under the water, sometimes too weak to even wave their hands to get your attention. They bob up and down, gasping for air, frantic beneath the water. All the while looking safe on the surface—to anyone who might be looking—until they can’t fight it anymore, and they stop kicking and slip away. But someone has to know the signs, to know what that struggle looks like, to recognize it so they can try and rescue them.

Maybe we were all drowning in our own way, frantic beneath the surface, gasping for air, hoping something or somebody will notice and rescue us.

Maybe what my friend Rebecca said was true: “We all live in quiet desperation.”

The day of Gabby’s funeral, it was miserable out, cold and rainy. Very fitting for the mood of the day. The church was packed, and I was happy to see so many people had come to honor her life. I had been to a few funerals before, but this was the saddest I had ever attended. Gabby was so young and her death so senseless.

Maria and Julia were there, and I was thankful they had come. They had only just met Gabby at my party, but they knew she and I were good friends. I wanted to scream at them and say, “Look! Look what can happen when you cheat. You need to stop right now!” I knew my words would fall on deaf ears. So instead, I squeezed their hands and hoped they would feel my love and concern for them.

They sat on either side of me and consoled me through my tears. I was grateful for their support and silently prayed their stories would have happier endings than Gabby’s.

The priest delivered a somber message. I wasn’t sure if he believed she went to Heaven or not. I know we’re not supposed to commit suicide, but what about God being the ultimate forgiver?

On second thought, maybe there is no God. A good and loving God
 would have stopped the abuse that led Gabby down this road. Hell, it's not like the Catholic Church doesn't protect priests that play grab ass with little kids.

It's all so backwards. They basically endorse pedophilia from their own. That attitude “told” Gabby that it was okay for her uncle to rape her. At least it would have been if he was wearing a collar. Goddamn hypocrites!

Poor Gabby had endured so much in this life; I had to believe there was peace for her on the other side.

The funeral was heartbreaking. Jesus fucking Christ, everyone around me was coming apart at the seams. One little loose thread and the world around me was unraveling. The room felt like it was spinning, and I just wanted it to stop. Maria and Enrique, Julia and Tyrone, and Gabby and Todd. Failing marriages, broken hearts, friends dead in the tub. How did we all get here? I felt like I was on a hellish merry-go-round. The web of lies and deceit had gone from steamy and sexy to deadly and dangerous. I wanted off . . . and I wanted off now.

A week after the funeral, life seemed to be getting back to normal, but work just wasn’t the same without Gabby. I didn’t realize how much I loved her Philly accent or her potty mouth. It was weird going through an entire day of work and not hearing at least one “fuck.”

Life went on; it always did. That was one of the craziest parts about death to me. Even on the most tragic day, the sun still rises and sets. But for those grieving, it’s like the world should stop, or at least pause for a little while. Because that’s what it feels like to them; their world, life as they knew it, would never be the same.

My heart hurt so much for Gabby’s little girls; to be raised without a mama must be so devastating. I hoped they would never know the truth about how she died. I hoped their dad could protect them from that because that is not who Gabby was. It was part of her story, but it wasn’t the whole story. I was afraid the wonderful person she was would be erased by the way she left us, and that seemed so unfair.

A few girls in my sorority had reputations for being promiscuous, and I’m ashamed to say that I’d looked down at them. What if the same thing had happened to them? I felt like an ass; just a few months prior, I was the
first to cast stones.

Gabby’s suicide and her saga made me realize that each of us has a story. Seeing life through my friends’ eyes gave me a whole new perspective. I promised myself that from then on, I would give people the benefit of the doubt, even for cheating. I wouldn’t judge people, not for leaving, not for staying and not even for doing it in the first place.

Mostly, people have their reasons, and whether or not you are privy to them or agree with them is beside the point. Nothing is ever black and white.

That night Braden was out of town, and I felt empty and lonely. I was trying to remember something Nick had written to me in one of his letters shortly after we broke up. I didn’t know what I was looking for, but I knew I would know when I found it. I took out my old memory box and rifled through it. A pressed rose, his fraternity pin, a card he sent with roses and dozens of letters. Maybe it was in the Valentine’s Day card:

Dear Liz,

I couldn’t let this special day go by without sending my love. It’s been a month since I last saw or spoke to you. I hope it wasn’t the last time. I hope you enjoyed the CD of songs I sent you. I hope you felt me inside your heart when you listened to it. Liz, you are very special to me and I miss you so much. Every night, I pray that you will come back to me.

I hope you still feel wonderful inside when you think about all the love and special times we shared. Not a night goes by when I don’t think about holding you in my arms, kee
ping you safe and warm and making you feel loved. The best memories of my life were the ones we made together. I want more than anything to feel that way again with the most amazing woman in the world; that’s you. I miss being able to talk to you and seeing your gorgeous smile.

Take a moment and close your eyes. Picture the first time we made love, the last time we made love, holding hands, cuddling, talking, our friendship, our love. You still feel the passion, don’t you? As do I. I wonder if you’re feeling the same. I hope you can still feel “Wo
nderful Tonight” the way I feel it in my heart.

But even if I’m not with you today and you are not with me, I hope someone sends you roses, takes you to an incredibly romantic dinner, and treats you with the most love, respect, and caring as I wish with all my heart that it could be me.

I will always love you. Call me if you’re thinking of me.

Love,

Nick

I got teary eyed, but that wasn’t it. Some other letter held the key to my mystery. I was about to read more letters when I heard Alexa crying on the monitor. It would have to wait.