The Battered Heiress Blues (15 page)

M
y choice had become a poison, killing me slowly from the inside out. I talked a big game with Henry, but whom was I kidding? I didn’t want to live without him, but I had my pride too. He broke his promise. If I didn’t take a stand now, I would be the fool who realized, after twenty years, that our life was built on broken pledges and small little deceptions that just seemed harmless at the time.

As much as I didn’t like the things he said to me, there was some truth in his assessments. He was always the person I turned to when times got tough. This wasn’t out of some necessity on my part. I was a strong and capable woman. I could solve my own problems; but sharing them with someone I loved made the difficulties seem more bearable. Falling into his arms and having the ability to let my guard down, and just relax through the stress, made finding a way out of the darkness easier.

I’d never given much thought to being destroyed by the one person I loved most in the world. Then again, I never let anyone, besides Henry, close enough to hurt me. Since my mom’s death, I had become a master at internalizing every sorrow, every bitter disappointment, and every lonely moment. They were my burdens. I categorized them by affliction and moved on. The problem with hiding my emotions was that, eventually, I lost myself altogether. I’d forgotten that the sorrows and disappointments made me strong- that my mistakes and failures provided an opportunity for me to learn. When I chose not to feel my way through life, I had nothing to give others. That fact had become painfully evident with his departure.

Henry was the first man to ever cast light into those dark areas. His first sweet smile stopped me in my tracks. After dropping my books outside of the library, he came to my aide. His hand fell on top of mine as we both reached for the fallen books. He didn’t apologize for our touching. Instead, his hand lingered. It made me feel uncomfortable- like unchartered territory. Then, he spoke.
Here’s your book
never sounded so sexy in his British accent. He effortlessly grabbed my arms and pulled me to my feet. After insisting that he walk me back to my car, I was informed that I was required to take him to dinner as a thank you- repayment for services rendered. Henry was disastrously charming. I never stood a chance.

We sat in that restaurant for hours, listening and talking with one another, until the wine made me brave enough to kiss him. It was the most delicious and sensual kiss I had ever experienced; slow and intense. That one kiss ruined me for every other man I would ever meet. He was my
Tru
North- an internal compass- my way out of the fear that had handicapped me since the day I let my mom go. The kiss released a confidence in me that made me shine. I was audacious again. I was his Jewel.

Our life together was exciting. He was always full of surprises. When friends were complaining about their boyfriends being disinterested, I couldn’t empathize. Tru was the boyfriend that would scout out a place in the park to hide champagne and strawberries ahead of our date. We didn’t lie around letting life pass us by: we explored the city; we traveled to Savannah; and we spent breaks in London with his mom. He wasn’t afraid to let me in. I had an all access pass to his life and I was slowly learning to let my guard down.

Our physical relationship came on quickly; partly because we were so taken with one another. I was worried that we were rushing intimacy, before a strong foundation could be built, but we were so easy in the other’s company. Our undeniable chemistry was backed up by a hefty dose of respect and trust. We weren’t the couple making love in the dark- the more lights the better. It was important to both of us to connect not just through touch, but with our eyes. I wanted to see his mouth when he spoke the words that melted my heart. We conveyed an acceptance of the other person’s body just as it was, regardless of our own personal warped sight.

We spent long afternoons, naked, wrapped in sheets, discussing our future. We talked about children and splitting our time between New York and Savannah. I would do pro-bono work and he would start his own law firm. We passed the Georgia bar and started to look for suitable office space in Savannah. Our dreams were becoming a reality. But dreams change.

I’m not sure at what point money became an equal object of his desire, but we suffered due to his relentless pursuit for power. To this day, I’m certain that my father enticed him, like the devil, offering water to a man burning in hell. He probably made Henry feel that he wouldn’t be worthy of me until he had made something of himself. I’ve never understood why Henry couldn’t see himself through my eyes.

Now, sitting on the upper veranda, having watched his car drive away- my heart was heavy. My eyes were full of tears. I could lie to Henry, but not to myself. I knew in losing him, I lost the best part of me. He brought that out. Sure, I could wake up and move through each day unscathed, but moving forward meant learning who I was without him. I knew that I would have to become my biggest fan again- to fall in love with my own singular qualities.

I had the night alone to dwell on his departure. Kate returned in the morning. She wanted to know what happened, word for word, but I felt it best to honor Henry by not assigning blame. She assured me that our split was temporary and that cooler heads would prevail, but I had my doubts. She didn’t hear the things that we said to one another. Words tend to take on a life of their own. I couldn’t forgive him for implying I facilitated Connor’s death and I’m certain my finger pointing made him less apt to apologize. We were at an impasse.

I urged Kate to stay out of our fight and she reluctantly agreed. I didn’t want to lose a lover and a best friend in one week. As much as she loved me, Henry was her brother- her blood. The less I shared with her the better.

10

T
hree weeks had passed with no communication. I’d kept my sadness under wraps fairly well, putting on a cheery face when others were around. If Kate was speaking to Henry, she wasn’t letting me in on it. Maybe this was at his request or maybe she was being merciful to me. Either way, there was a hole in my heart that I couldn’t seem to fill with shopping or redecorating.

I tried to keep busy in an effort to distract myself from the overwhelming sense of loss I was feeling. I took on the task of cleaning the house from top to bottom, scrubbing the old hardwood floors on my hands and knees, while continuously replaying our argument over and over again in my mind as I scrubbed. The
What ifs
began to creep into my thoughts:
What if I didn’t say this or that?; What if I said I love you back and left it at that?; and What if I didn’t place blame at his feet- the man that always stood by me
? When I was alone, my game face disappeared. I discovered that the hurt was hiding just under the surface, available to me at a moment’s notice.

I finally halted my assault on the wood, long enough to have a good cry and a loud scream. One scream turned into another and I found myself at my bedside table looking at the man in charge of my misery. Before I had time to make a better decision, the frame flew out of my hand and hit the dresser mirror. I pulled the picture out from under the broken glass and tried to tear it, but something within me couldn’t do it. Hope was still lurking around. I hate hope.

Kate had been spending every other weekend with Gabe, when Mattie was away at his mom’s house. My home was feeling more like a bed and breakfast, but I didn’t mind. Sure, I was a tiny bit jealous. They were happy. Their conversations were precious. They had chemistry. I had sour grapes. I was working on my attitude.

Four weeks passed and no cards or calls. I started calling Henry’s home phone when I knew that he’d be at work, just to hear his voice. I never left a message and hoped that he wasn’t checking his caller ID. We were playing chicken. I wouldn’t be the first to surrender. This was all a test.

Kate was undergoing a test of her own. Gabe’s mom had come down to spend the month with him and Mattie. She was worried about making a good impression, but I knew that Kate was a hard person not to like. As it turned out, she could have been on the FBI most wanted list and Momma Martin would have still adored her. Gabe had moped around for so long that his showing interest in any woman made Ms. Martin the happiest mother in America. Seeing Kate with Mattie sealed the deal for her. She and Kate had become fast friends which in turn made Gabe happy. Everyone was happy, but me. I was starting to get on my own nerves.

Kate had been under the weather for several days. In caring for her, I’d become sick as well. I was surprised that Gabe wasn’t coming down with it, considering all their kissing- in front of me- like teenagers. We quarantined ourselves in my room, away from Mattie. Ms. Martin made us some delicious chicken soup to cure what ailed us. We were a sight. Luckily, our fevers cycled together. We threw the covers off and replaced them at precisely the same time. We were the cleanest sick women in the history of the world. Since we couldn’t breathe, we’d spend most of the day and night in my steam shower, wearing our bathing suits and drinking Gatorade. I was selfishly enjoying being sick with her since we rarely saw each other anymore. We reminisced about college life and had many healing laughs. She began to improve and left me. That was becoming a recurring theme.

I was starting to get over my head and chest cold, but my stomach had other dastardly plans. Most everything I ate came back up looking exactly the same as when I ate it. I was withering away and felt weak. Kate wanted to call Henry and tell him, but that was ridiculous. I obviously needed to reign in my need to be rescued. She did the next best thing- she called Tommy. He threatened to come for a week if I didn’t go to the doctor. Considering my options, I agreed.

Gabe called and made an appointment with a physician he knew in town. I didn’t have much choice about accepting his charitable act, but I wasn’t about to let them accompany me as they had hoped. I called back and changed my appointment to an earlier time.

I took a shower before leaving for the doctor. I considered drying my hair and applying makeup, but I just couldn’t bring myself to put forth the effort. I threw on a pair of sweats, my flip-flops, and was out the door. My head was pounding. My stomach was killing me. This virus should have already run its course.

I followed Gabe’s directions and managed not to get lost. After parking, I sat in my car deciding whether or not I really needed to go in. The only thing that made me get out of the car was the fact that Gabe would check up on me. Plus, Kate had made herself in charge of filling my prescriptions. She probably wouldn’t buy that he didn’t write for any medicine, with how I looked.

The office was crowded. People were coughing. I could just picture their germ droplets landing on my face which made me queasy. The chairs were made of fake tan leather slings and were extremely uncomfortable. I signed in and took the only seat left. I was sandwiched between two men. One was wearing a bottle of cologne and the other kept sneezing. I quickly filled out the three pages of paperwork, hoping that it would expedite my exodus into the promised land of the back office. The doctor now knew everything about me that I did. I returned the clip board and was about to collapse in the chair when the nurse called my name.

She led me to a room and instructed me to put on a gown and get on the examining table. I didn’t. I couldn’t see the point of removing my clothes when I was already freezing. I laid it back on the table and sat in the chair against the wall. She returned to take my vital signs and gave me that look. I had joined the ranks of the other sick and uncooperative patients making her job a nightmare. After jamming a long cotton ball on a stick down my throat, she regurgitated the answers I had written down on the questionnaire. She gave me a cup for a urine sample, instructed me where to leave it, showed me to the restroom, and told me to go back to the exam room when the task was completed. It was a lot of information to remember, but I complied, hoping to make it on the good patients’ list in case she had to give me an injection.

The doctor came in, and thankfully, was not handsome in any way. No one needs a hot doctor seeing their bodies, especially when they’re sick. All doctors should be ugly. He was nice. After the exam, he left the room to get my strep test results. He came back in with a smile on his face which made me feel more at ease. He could write me a script and I would be on my way.

“Ms. Spencer, when was your last menstrual period?”

“I’m not sure. I just lost my son in June.”

“You haven’t had a period since then?”

Whoa. Wait one minute. It was the end of August. Holy shit.