Just a Number(127)

So, that’s out. Even though I’m not in the mood to hear a chorus line of “I told you sos,” I decide to call my sister. She’s always been a good listener, even if she does tend to remind me of my stupidity from time to time. Most of the time, she’s not wrong.

Pulling the car into the nearest parking lot, I grab my cellphone and call my sister. While I know I am in for a lengthy lecture, I also know Julia is the right person to tell me exactly how much of a prick I’d been. I already know I have some shit to work through on my end before I can hear Amelia out. I need some much-needed advice from a third party who isn’t as directly involved as everybody else.

“Hello?” Julia sings into the phone.

I clear my throat, trying to keep the tone steady, keep the upset from my voice. “Hey, Jules.”

“Oh, God,” she whispers. “What’s wrong?” She’s always been able to see through my bullshit.

“Can I come over?” I sigh, running my fingers through my hair nervously as I replay the fight with Amelia in my head. I go over what I’m going to tell Amelia when we do talk. I will admit to my insecurities and promise her that I am seeking help on how to overcome it. I remember how she claimed I was unrecognizable when I attacked Justin, and she’s right. I had become someone I didn’t want to be, and it had frightened her. That’s not something I ever want to happen again, and I know it stems back to what happened with Gretchen. I saw red and reacted, and I know now that’s not right, nor is it healthy. That’s not the man I want to be, and it’s not the man Amelia deserves.

“I really need to talk.”

Julia stammers for a minute. “Uh, y-yeah, of course. Come right over. I’ll just change out of my gym clothes.”

“I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”

“See you soon,” she says softly. “Drive safe.”

We hang up, and I pull back onto the street to head over to my sister’s apartment.

When I arrive, Jules buzzes me into the building, and I head upstairs. I’ve barely lifted my hand to knock when she opens the door, her eyes searching mine for answers. I let my gaze shift behind her, finding Stephen standing in the hall.

He nods once. “You going to let him in, sweetheart?”

Jules shakes her head. “Oh, right. Duh.”

I step inside and take off my jacket, hanging it in the hall closet.

“Coffee?” Stephen offers, and I accept silently as we walk into the kitchen. Jules and I sit at the small table, and Stephen joins us, placing my coffee in front of me.

I stare into the cup, watching the few bubbles pop as the coffee settles. The room is silent, but only for a moment before my sister breaks it.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or were you waiting for me to ask?” she inquires gently.

“I was…trying to figure out where to start.”

“Is it about Amy? Is she okay?”

“Amelia is fine,” I assure her.

Julia’s eyes narrow, and she tilts her head to the left. “Then why do you look like someone’s just kicked your puppy?”

“I don’t have a puppy, Jules,” I say with an aggravated sigh.

“I know that, dummy. It’s a metaphor.”

“It’s pretty twisted.”

Julia groans, slapping her palms on the smooth oak tabletop. “You’re avoiding the issue, Owen. What’s going on?”

Nervous, I lean forward and rest my forearms on the table, preparing for this inevitable conversation. Keeping my focus on the intricate wood grain, I confess what happened the night before. Julia and Stephen listen intently the entire time, even letting me get through the argument we had this morning, too.

When I finish, Julia slumps back in her seat, crossing her arms in front of her and biting the inside of her cheek contemplatively. She’s silent for a moment as she assesses the situation, when, finally, she nods. “Look, Owen, your actions, while rash, are completely understandable. You just learned that your wife was cheating on you, so of course you jumped to conclusions. Most men would.”

“Right, but that’s not the kind of man I want to be, Jules. It’s not the kind of man Amelia deserves. Because of what Gretchen did, I’m insecure. Even though I know Amelia has never been unfaithful to her past partners, I can’t seem to give her my trust. It isn’t fair to her for me to constantly be on edge, wondering where she is and who she might be with.”

“Acknowledging the problem is the first step in fixing it,” Stephen speaks up, sounding more like my old therapist than my brother-in-law. “What happened to you when you saw the two of them dancing together?”