Unashamed (24 page)

Chapter 14

In the week prior to my return home, my nerves unsettled me into a constant state of nausea. My stomach was constantly churning with worry and anxiety, and it became difficult to eat.

Zelda, Douglas, and Patty called daily with questions about flight information and to ask about my general well-being because they loved me. I’m afraid, however, this description oversimplifies things. It doesn’t register as a problem until you realize that this was a minimum of three separate phone calls typically lasting thirty minutes apiece, which would have been fine had they left it at that. But, it was multiple calls from each individual person who just wanted to chat, verify flight details, or simply say goodnight. Between the truth that needed to be told and the calls, my anxiety level peaked for the entire seven days. Guilt over everything weighed heavy on my shoulders. I prayed for an impossible prayer to be answered—more time.

I don’t blame any of them, though. It had been six months since I’d left Las Vegas, so, naturally, they were excited for me to return home.

When I told Doug that my intention was to spend my first few days in Vegas with Zelda, he was beside himself. If that wasn’t disgraceful enough, I asked him not to say anything to Patty. She was expecting me a few days later and didn’t even know I was in town. Doug was deeply disturbed by all of it.

“What are you doing, Emma?” he questioned. “This is so stupid. I told you to get your shit together.”

“I know. I just can’t come home right away. I’m sorry.” My voice was sheepish and guilt-ridden, but I didn’t know what else to do.

Zelda received me at the airport. Not my husband of nine years or my girlfriend of two and a half. Even after returning to the City of Sin, I couldn’t bring myself to be honest. In my brain, prolonging the inevitable justified a few more days of critical thinking. I was right, but it wasn’t the kind of productive thought process I needed. It was mindless conversations with Zelda and meaningless sex, which was just another procrastination tactic.

After two nights Zelda took me to a designated parking lot where I’d prearranged a ride home with Douglas. She argued with me the entire ride there.

“You can’t keep doing this shit. You have a husband, a girlfriend, and me! Where the fuck do I fit in and how do you think this shit makes me feel? I’m sick of all this sneaking around. I don’t deserve this!” She yelled while trying to drive safely by overcorrecting with the steering wheel.

“I know, Zelda. I’m going through some fucked-up shit right now, and I’m trying to figure it out.” My eyes and head sulked to the floor. Truth be told, I didn’t care about anyone but Doug and how this was all going to play out for him.

“Figure what out? That you are a lesbian? I think they know! You just need to tell them and stop playing all of these games with people. I can’t believe I’m dropping you off in a fucking parking lot so your husband can take you home to your
girlfriend
. Do you know how fucked that is?” She leaned her head on her hand that was supported by the driver’s window after she parked in an empty space.

I didn’t know what to say next, but luckily I didn’t have to speak at all because Doug was prompt as usual. Without inflection in my voice I said, “That’s him. I gotta go. I’ll text you.”

“Yeah, whenever you can sneak away. I’m always on hold, waiting for your call.” She put the car in reverse to prepare for the moment I removed my last bag from her car. She was obviously not planning to stick around, and I couldn’t blame her.

“I’ll figure this out, Zelda.” My assurance was all lies as far as she was concerned.

“Whatever. You sure know how to fuck with people’s minds.”

I certainly deserved that and felt myself sink into the strange realization of an oncoming depression. Or was it ongoing? I grabbed my luggage and rolled it through the parking lot to the back of Doug’s car, where he welcomed me and loaded my bags. Zelda quickly left before she had to see me greet him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. I think she knew that it was over between us and that the past two days had been an escape from everything and that this was our unofficial goodbye.

It was awkward at first, but, after a mile into our ride home, we started to reconnect. The famous Vegas skyline passed as we chatted with a little more ease. Doug stopped for gas as I sat in the passenger seat, staring out of the window, contemplating my life. My head was swirling as if it was drunk with lies. There was nowhere for me to hide anymore; the time had come. I wondered when the right moment would present itself.
Maybe when the day blows over, we can have a heart-to-heart conversation and I can come out of the
closet as quickly as I had on the phone with my family.

After a quick stop for gas, Douglas returned to the car. He began telling me a funny story as we made our way to the main road. I laughed at the things he was saying until he finished, and I did a stupid and terrible thing.

“…then I told her about my ‘lesbian’ roommate like you are gay or something…if she only knew…” He snickered, completely unaware of the turmoil in my head.

Without warning, words fell out of my mouth like verbal diarrhea. “I don’t think you know how gay I really am.” It was unedited, without thought and absolutely no censoring or regard for how it sounded. The words just spilled from my lips and, once they were out, I froze.

His eyes searched mine for the punch line to the joke, but all he saw was conviction and sincerity. We held each other’s stare for what seemed like an eternity, and then, when it seemed like the awkward moment couldn’t get any more uncomfortable, the light turned red as if Jesus Christ himself was shocked at what I had done. It forced us to stop and have separate unspeakable thoughts mere inches from one another. We were trapped in the car and trapped within our individual minds. It was indescribable tension unlike anything I have ever experienced.

With one shameful, mind-blowing, and insensitive sentence I tactlessly and accidently came out of the closet to my husband. This was not how it was supposed to happen. Inwardly, I cringed at how thoughtless I was. Had I been able to slam my head into the dashboard without humiliating myself further, I would have.

Gradually, fierce pains began to spread all over my body. It felt physical, but they were psychosomatic. My brain hurt, but it wasn’t a headache. My chest hurt, but there was no clog. My breathing felt laborious, but I didn’t suffer from asthma. I physically felt the pains because I had hurt the one I loved most. Succumbing to emotions that I didn’t even know existed was the result of the battle between my psyche and the venom that spewed from my mouth so carelessly. Blood exploded through my veins as fear of an unknown future possessed me. Then, my body became utterly exhausted as it gave up and shut down in an attempt to be numb. It felt as though the burst of emotions damaged the wiring in my body rendering me unable to function. The only thing I desired in that moment was death. I was ready to surrender myself to God.

Then the light turned green.

The Lord has a funny way of telling us that this too shall pass. The next fifteen miles were a blur, and the next thing I actually remember was walking behind Doug as we shuffled aimlessly up the stairs to Patty’s room.

“Honey, I’m home!” Doug yelled as usual. It was amazing how he was able to keep things together following the biggest verbal shit-storm. I guess he was numb as he processed everything. He entered Patty’s room first as if the world was spinning like usual. But every movement was heartbreak, and every sound from his mouth was crying. We had been together too long, and, when a person you’ve shared everything with, built dreams with, has an emotional break, you know. I most definitely knew.

“Hi, baby, surprise,” I said simply, without exclamation. Patty turned from her computer chair and sat in shock for a minute, then looked to Doug and back to me again.

“Oh my God. When did you get in?” Without moving her fingers from the keyboard, she remained seated as she asked both of us the question. The atmosphere in the room was extremely stale. In addition to Doug hiding his pain the best way he knew how, her reaction to my presence was less than enthusiastic; in fact, she never moved her fingers from the home keys.

“Doug picked me up. I wanted to surprise you.” The lies I told made a sickness rush through my veins once again.

“You shits. I thought something was fishy. Come here, baby, I’ve missed you.” Patty rotated the computer chair in my direction and opened her arms for me. We hugged and kissed as I fell into her warm, comforting embrace where I lingered longer than I deserved. It was a shameful place for me to want to be.

Once the hug finished, she was a little over the top with excitement from a festival she and Douglas attended with two other women; one of which was Doug’s current girlfriend. This excitement actually got her out of the chair so she could encourage me to see pictures they snapped. Doug seemed to have put up a wall because he relaxed and cracked a few jokes during my review of each photo. His ability to shut down emotionally amazed me. I envied his gift and secretly wished I could do the same.

Patty remained in this ring of happiness as she explained the outstanding concerts and the debauchery they experienced together. Doug participated in the exaggerated storytelling, complete with high-pitched laughs and fond explanations of memories. Perhaps, I thought, he doesn’t think I’m serious about being a lesbian. While mulling over a thousand little crazies in my head as my husband and girlfriend hovered over me, a fascinating fact became clear. Patty’s “friend” in the photos was her mistress. The saying, “a picture is worth a thousand words,” is an understatement. I was totally shocked that she would cheat on me, but considering the circumstances, my mouth was sealed. Despite my own infidelities and conflicted opinions about the stability of our relationship, it really hurt my fucking feelings.

Touché, my darling freckle-faced lover. You got me.

During a pause in awkward conversation I said, “Oh, guys, I’m going to write a book. I’ve already started. Do you want to read what I wrote so far?” I began digging in my luggage for the storage drive that held my rough draft.

“What!” Patty exclaimed as if she actually cared. It was a good theatrical effort though.

“You are?” Douglas crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head. I was unsure how to read that gesture, considering the previous chain of unfortunate events.

“What’s it about?” she asked with a minute level of interest as she continued to click through a few more photos on the computer.

“My life.” I handed her the device. She pushed it into her computer’s USB port as the three of us stood around waiting for it to load. When it did, she read the first few lines out loud. That’s when she finally took it seriously and with more interest.

“
Ode to the mighty dry hump!
What the fuck, you’re a dork.
The godsend to any little girl’s clitoral repertoire.
Ha! That’s funny!” Her genuine excitement finally expelled, which made me smile.

Patty and Doug laughed loudly. They always understood my humor. After a few pages, Douglas excused himself to retire, claiming he didn’t want to read any more until it was finished. Patty read the first few pages and closed the program because she, too, would wait until it was done. “I want to read…you.” She grabbed me and tried to get frisky.

“I can’t. I’m going to sleep with Doug tonight.” My arms gently pushed her away.

“What the fuck, why?”

“Because, I just came out of the closet and he is fucked up right now.” I tried to whisper and be heard at the same time.

Patty’s hands immediately went to her mouth, muffling her words as she spoke. “What? When, in the car? Oh my God, is he okay?”

“Hell no, he isn’t okay.” I tried to hush my tone. “I just flipped his entire world upside down, so I’m going to sleep with him tonight, all right?”

“Fine. I love you, baby. Everything is going to be okay.” She gave me a genuine hug, releasing some of the tension trapped in my body.

“I love you, too and, no, it really isn’t. I just ended nine years of marriage in the most fucked-up way possible. Give us some time.” We kissed each other before I walked out into the cold and uninviting hallway. I took a breath before opening his door.

In my husband’s clean and perfectly organized room, I shamefully undressed and climbed into bed without saying a word. It was painfully awkward. For a while, we lay together uncomfortably numb. My eyes swirled as I looked into the darkness. For the first time in our lives we were at a loss for words. I’m sure each of us opened our mouths in an attempt to speak but hesitated and decided against it. I know I did. Finally, when hiding the way we felt about the situation couldn’t be buried any longer, we lost all composure and cried.

I faced my wall and he faced his, our backs inches from the comforting warmth of the one another. We remained in this position, trying desperately to stop weeping; futile in our attempts. If one calmed for a moment, it only took the other’s irregular breathing to reset the vicious cycle of heartbreak. Each of us tried desperately not to hyperventilate. We flooded ourselves in rivers of tears, frozen with the question of what to do next.

He was the first to make a move, as I was too afraid to. He rolled over, grabbed me, and pulled me tightly into his arms. I twisted around to return his squeeze. As we wrapped ourselves in the other’s embrace, our pain rekindled and the tears once again flowed uncontrollably.