To Hell and Back (18 page)

It’s only about five minutes before the two girls burst in the door of the diner and look around. They see me and head straight to my table. I stand up and find myself in a group hug with the two women. Sara whispers in my ear, “Don’t worry, Brie. It’s all going to be okay.”

Daisy seconds that with a whispered, “Definitely.”

They pick up my bag and phone and walk me out to the car.  Neither of them says anything, for which I’m grateful.  I climb in the back and stare out the window.  Every bone in my body is completely exhausted, I close my eyes and just feel the vibration of the car’s movement as it carries us toward the Brighton Hotel. 

The next moment, Sara is gently shaking me awake and they’re bringing me inside the building. We take the elevator to the 7
^th
floor and I notice nothing around me as we walk to the room.  The ache I felt earlier has dulled and the numbness is taking over completely.  Daisy sets my things down on a table inside the hotel room and Sara shows me to a bed.  I climb in, fully clothed, to what is probably the most comfortable bed I have ever been in and I have only a second to appreciate that fact before the exhaustion carries me away again.

Carson

What in the hell just happened? I sink down on the top step of the stairs outside the trailer and set my phone beside me. This is the first time I’ve stopped my manic attempt to contact Brie since I poured a very drunk Madeline into a car headed back to the hotel. The car I called before Brie got here; the one that showed up too late. I don’t know how long Brie was here before she opened that door, but it couldn’t have been more than five minutes. If I ever wondered how long it takes to potentially ruin someone’s entire life, I now know the answer. Five minutes.

I’ve called Brie more times than I can count.  Somewhere in the middle of it all, I talked to Daisy.  I’ve only stopped calling now because I know Brie is safe.  Daisy just sent me a text, letting me know that Brie is with her tonight.

My chest feels hollow and it’s hard to breathe. Brie is my air. How do you breathe when your oxygen has been cut off? The pain that radiates up through my chest is intense. It seems to stem from a part of me that, until now, has been intangible. It’s as though I’ve been ripped open and made aware that it is possible for my very soul to ache.

It feels like hours later when I rise stiffly from the small, metal step and turn to open the door. The trailer is dark except for the bedroom light. I put myself in Brie’s place for a moment. Coming through the door after what I hope was a great night with her friends, she finds the place almost completely devoid of light. I struggle to remember my exact words to Madeline. I put my hands to my forehead, squeezing my eyes tightly closed, trying to remember precisely what Brie would have heard. Her pale, stricken face spoke volumes. Her trust in me was shaken to its roots by what her eyes took in tonight.

I can’t blame her. I’m hurt that she didn’t give me a chance to explain, but I also understand. As far as she knows, the truth was right there in front of her with its legs wrapped around me and its lips on mine.

***

Last night seemed to last an eternity. The time ticked by slowly, only speeding up when I managed to doze off for a few moments before waking abruptly again. I couldn’t bring myself to sleep in our bed without her, so I opted for the small couch instead. As uncomfortable as it was, I’m fairly certain I would have gotten even less sleep had I been lying next to her pillow, breathing in her sweet scent for the entire night.

I thought about every moment I have spent with my angel. The day I met her, the first time I looked into her eyes, the first time I heard her laugh. There are a million things I love about her; a million reasons why I can’t let this relationship die. I’ve fucked this up royally with my stupidity; I’m scared that this might be the end of us.

It’s now seven and I decide that’s plenty of sleep for everyone I need to talk to. I pick up my phone and text Tom, asking if he can meet with me as soon as possible. It turns out he spent last night in his trailer after staying late with the editing crew, so five minutes later he meets me outside. His red fleece pajama pants and plain white t-shirt are a strange contrast to the designer clothing he’s usually wearing.

“What’s going on, Carson?” he asks warily. 

“I fucked up,” I tell him bluntly.  “Brie found me with Madeline and she took off.  It’s a mess.  Madeline has to go, Tom.  She
has
to.  I can’t have her here after this.”

I fill Tom in on last night’s events and his eyes widen as I spill every dirty detail of Madeline’s visit. 

“Well, hell, Carson. I don’t even know what to say.”

“Believe me, I know. I also know this puts you in a tough position. I wouldn’t ask this of you unless I felt I truly had no other choice.”

“I’ll figure this out, Carson. You go do whatever it takes to get Brie back and let me worry about Madeline. Brielle is a good girl, Carson. She doesn’t deserve to have her heart trampled on like this.”

“I love her, Tom.  I love her so much and I just hope that’s enough.”
 

Chapter Eighteen

Brielle

Before I even open my eyes, I feel the pounding headache residing behind them and I groan. I reach my hand out for Carson’s side of the bed and find it empty. The fabric feels strange beneath my hand and I finally pry my eyes open to see that I’m not at home. This isn’t my bed, these aren’t my sheets – it takes me a moment to put together what all of this means and then, in a flash, the memories of last night flood back.

The door to the room opens and Daisy enters, Starbucks cup in one hand, brown paper bag in the other. “I picked you up a latte,” she tells me, “and a bagel from this great place across the street. If there is anything else you want, we can get it, but I thought this would get you started.”

Sitting up fully, I straighten the covers and take the cup. Patting the bed next to me, I take a sip of the hot, delicious beverage and say, “Thanks, D. This is perfect. All I really still need is some Tylenol and an explanation.”

“Tylenol I can help with. Carson will have to do the explaining. I don’t know the details of what happened, but he was crazy with worry last night when I talked to him. He promised me that whatever happened wasn’t what it seemed.”

“You don’t even know.  What I saw – it made me question everything.  They were alone in our bedroom, D. 
Our
bedroom.  Madeline and Carson.  She was all over him, body wrapped around his and lips practically eating his face.  I want to think it’s some crazy misunderstanding, but I know what I saw.”

“Damn, Brie.   I don’t even know what to say.  I just can’t imagine Carson doing something like this.  He loves you so much, everyone knows that.  He’s never been interested in Madeline.  Never.  You should hear the way he talks about you, the way he lights up.  When he asked us to plan a girls’ night with you, he seemed so excited and genuine.  I just – I don’t know what the hell was going on last night, but something isn’t right.”

“I can only hope you’re right,” I shake my head at her. “I feel so sick every time I picture her face. She was smiling at me as I just stood there, watching them. She looked like she knew she had already won.”

“That devious bitch.  She poisons everything she touches,” Daisy sneers.  “I…”

Whatever she was going to say is lost as Sara comes into the room carrying my purse and phone.

“I thought you might want these,” she says softly. “How are you doing?”

I start to speak, but I’m interrupted by Daisy, who growls, “She’s doing pretty well for someone who got run over by The Little Madeline That Could.” She turns to me, “You let me know if you want us to take her out.”

I laugh out loud at the seriousness on her face.  I love my friends so much.  I could never picture these two ladies hurting anyone, but it’s somehow sweet that she would offer. 

I look down at my phone and see that there are no more missed calls from Carson. The brightly lit screen tells me that it’s just after nine, meaning it has been several hours since his last call. I feel the smile fade from my face as I look up. “I guess he gave up,” I tell them weakly. “There are no more calls.”

“I texted him last night to let him know you were safe, Brie,” Daisy admits. “I told him you were here and sleeping. I’m sure he just wanted to let you rest.”

“Maybe,” I muse. As if on cue, the phone comes to life, vibrating in my hand. I stare at it for a moment, not sure whether I want to find out what he has to say just yet. Reluctantly, I press accept and bring the phone to my ear.

“Angel? Brie, are you there?”

I sit silently for a moment, knowing that once I say something, it begins.  There will be explanations and decisions coming that I’m not sure I’m ready for. 

“Yeah.  I’m here.”

“Brie, you just need to know that I love you. I would never do anything to hurt you on purpose.”

“Carson, I – “

“Brie,” he cuts me off. “Let me come to you. I need to see that you’re okay and I need to see your face when we talk. I need you.”

“I’m with Daisy and Sara, Carson.  It’s their place, and…” I trail off as I see my friends waving frantically at me, mouthing that it’s okay.  “I guess you could meet me.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, Brie. I love you.”

I put the phone down and take a deep breath. I rummage through my purse for some pain reliever tablets and swallow them down with a deep drink of my latte. It’s only then that I look back up to my friends and admit, “I’m scared. This could be a misunderstanding. It could be, and I hope to God that it is. But, then again, this could be the end of everything I’ve come to trust.”

The girls reassure me that I have them no matter what and then gather their things to head out for a while. At first, I’m reluctant to see them go, but they convince me it will be better to have space to talk to Carson without an audience.

I don’t really have an appetite, but I nibble at the bagel Daisy brought to fill the time while I wait for Carson.  I’m sure it’s really good, but it kind of tastes like sawdust at the moment and I give up in favor of my coffee drink.  If chicken soup is Jewish penicillin, then I think coffee is mine.

Every hair on my body stands up when there is a knock at the door. I pull the covers back and move stiffly as I stand and straighten last night’s rumpled outfit. The twenty feet or so between me and the door feels like a million miles. This feeling of dread is familiar. Every time Hank came home, every time he came into the room, pretty much every time I saw his face, I felt like this. This time I’m not afraid of being physically beaten, but there is still so much pain. What I feel now is almost worse. I never wanted to feel helpless or unwanted again. I need to know that the trust I have in Carson isn’t misplaced. I need to know that there is someone out there who won’t hurt me.

I open the door and step back, letting Carson into the suite.  He awkwardly shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and makes no move to touch me.  One part of me is relieved; I’m not ready to feel his touch.  It confuses and intoxicates me, and I need to think clearly right now.  The rest of me hurts like hell.  He could just be giving me space, but it still feels like rejection. 

I take a moment to look at the man standing before me.  He looks exhausted and completely miserable.  I’m unpleasantly surprised at myself when I feel a small ripple of joy at his apparent suffering.  If he had shown up looking like he hadn’t spent the night in Hell as I had, it might have pushed me over the edge.  Even so, I try to shrug off the unwelcome feelings. 

“I don’t know what to say,” I begin. “I want to think the best of you. You’ve earned my trust and I haven’t forgotten that, but I also can’t forget seeing Madeline’s lips on yours. I can’t forget her, in our bedroom, sitting on top of you. What the actual fuck, Carson!” I let out the last bit in an explosion that has been building up since he stepped into the room. Last night I was sad and tired and hurt, but I can’t cry another tear right now. I can’t be the victim to another fucking person. I need to know what happened. I need to know in this moment that I’m not a complete idiot, giving my love to someone whose heart was unavailable to me in return.

Carson takes a step back at my outburst. We both know it’s out of character for me to speak that way, but life has kicked me one too many times and I’m ready to kick back if I have to.

“Angel, I swear to you on my own life that there is an explanation for everything you saw. If I’m guilty of anything, it would be not taking care of this situation effectively the first time. Before I say anything else, I want you to know I talked to Tom this morning. He called just before I got here and told me Madeline is definitely out. We have a meeting with the producers in the morning to discuss her replacement.”

Carson has barely taken a breath since he began speaking. He almost seems winded from the rush of words he just put out there, and it’s all I can do not to take him in my arms. The residual anger from my earlier outburst leaves me strong enough to resist, though, and I find that he hasn’t really told me anything, for all his words.

“That’s all great, Carson.  Good for you, good for him, good for Madeline and whoever else.  But can I be selfish for just a minute and ask you,
what about me
? What happens now, Carson? Do you tell me why my eyes were wrong last night? Or should I be okay with everything I saw because it doesn’t matter now that she’s gone?”

“Oh, Brie, of course not,” he says and steps toward me. “Can we sit? I’ll tell you what happened and you can decide what happens next. I’m right here with you. For as long as it takes to tell you every single thing you want to know, I’m yours. And after that, I’m yours as long as you will have me.”

I grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator and we sit at the small dining table.  I take the chair across from his and wait for him to begin.  My hands roll the bottle back and forth between them almost without my input, all of my nervous energy focused on the motion.  Whatever Carson says next can make or break us.  I silently pray that there will be an us at the end of this.