Desperately Seeking Epic(70)

I didn’t answer him right away. Instead, I busied myself getting two Ibuprofens and putting two slices of white bread in the toaster. I desperately needed something in my stomach.

“Was it Marcus?” he finally asked when I didn’t respond.

“No. He didn’t help though,” I mumbled.

“The separation papers?” he questioned.

Meeting his gaze, I decided to give him the truth. Well, most of it. “Twenty-five years ago today my parents were killed in a drunk driving accident.”

All the color drained from his face.

“I don’t remember them. But . . . it’s still a sad day for me.” I studied his expressionless face. Did he know? Did he know it was his uncle that took my parents’ lives? I really couldn’t tell. His lack of any response could mean many things. Maybe he did know, or maybe he didn’t and he just felt sorry for me.

“My soon-to-be ex, Kurt, had the separation papers delivered today, of all days, of course,” I continued. “Then Marcus decided to act out against me. So I got drunk. Something I usually don’t do.”

“Shit, Clara,” he sighed. “Did the guy that hit them die too?” Out of all I said, he was centering in on my parents.

My throat tightened. He didn’t know. He had no idea what his uncle had done. Anger rose up inside of me. Marcus and Paul thought Dennis was such a great guy. He’d left them this adventurous legacy with this notion that he was a good man. He’d moved here and hid from his past. They didn’t know him at all.

“He was forced to go to rehab. Some probation.”

I wasn’t sure what I expected Paul to do or say. What could he really do or say? Stories like mine sucked dick. They’re sad and it’s hard to spin it with a bright side, which was what everyone wanted to do when they heard a heartbreaking story like mine. I had no expectation of him. He could have said nothing. I wouldn’t have taken it personally. After all, we weren’t really friends. He owed me nothing. So when he approached me and encircled me in his arms, I was shocked. So shocked in fact, I let my arms hang limply at my sides as he squeezed me.

“The way a hug works,” he began, his chin resting on the top of my head, “is both parties wrap their arms around the other. See how I’m doing it?”

I rolled my eyes where he couldn’t see. And slowly, I wrapped my arms around him, too. A second later, I melted into the hug, burying my face into his chest. I couldn’t recall when the last time I’d been hugged was. Like, really hugged. Paul and I may have shared some awkward, lightning-quick one-armed hugs, but nothing like this. Probably when Ally and Vanessa left to head back to Texas months ago was the last time I’d been really hugged. Wow. I was pathetic. I realized that. And alone. So, so alone.

Pushing away from Paul, I wiped under my eyes. I wasn’t crying. I was tougher back then. But my eyes were a little moist. “Thanks for the ride, Paul. Sorry I ruined your night.”

“You didn’t,” he assured me. Liar. But I let him slide on it. “You want me to make some dinner?” He looked around my kitchen for signs of food that could be cooked, which there was none, so he didn’t look long.

“I really appreciate it, Paul. But I think I just want to be alone now.”

“Oh, uh, sure,” he sputtered, shaking his head. “Right.” I walked him out onto the porch and we said good-bye. He climbed in his truck and was gone in a flash.

When I went back inside, I stood at my counter, munching on dry toast as I scanned the separation papers. Kurt was pressing me. He’d offered me way less than half of our assets. My lawyer was ready to pounce him for such an insult. Now, his new tactic—he would seek a payment for the skydiving business. I’d inherited it while we were still married and he claimed he was entitled to part of its value. He was going all out.

In our last conversation, Kurt had informed me that he’d ‘made me.’ He told me if it wasn’t for him, I’d have nothing. Apparently I owed him everything.

Not going to lie. That hurt. To have my contribution belittled was like a kick to my face. I’d walked beside this man while he’d pursued his dreams and ambitions. I’d loved him even when he was insensitive, selfishly putting himself first. Maybe I wasn’t perfect, but I’d loved him and gave him my all. I was loyal, and there is no one on this earth that would have fought for or beside him more than me.

No one.

Not even Daisy, the future mother of his unborn child.

There in those few pages was the end of my marriage. Summed up and written in cold, unfeeling terms and sentences. Not a trace of the love, laughter, joy, tears, and contentment we’d shared was included. Now it was broken down by numbers and the legalities of who got what. I felt so jaded. I felt robbed. I’d given so much to this man and this was how it ended, so callously?