“I did dig and I assure you he’s very married.”
He’s trying to pull one over on me and I’m not buying it.
“I don’t believe you.”
Nervous energy slaps me into a fully awake state of mind.
“Check your email. It’s all there. I sent it all over to you this morning.”
“Do not call me anymore, for any reason. Do you understand? If you do I’m filing harassment charges against you and I don’t give a damn if you’re the police or not!”
I hang up and slam my phone down on the bed before getting up to grab my laptop. As soon as I open my email account James’ email is the first one I see. I click on it and open the attachment.
I read it, and re-read it, over and over again. Dawn and Brisban are still married. How can that be? Unexpectedly, I feel sick to my stomach. I rush into the bathroom and fall to my knees. Bile rises in my throat and my gut twists into knots. I throw up and cry at the same time. As soon as I know I’m not going to be sick anymore I brush my teeth and wash my face. I feel like I’m living a real life nightmare. My doorbell rings and I nearly jump out of my skin. I’m so emotional and on edge I almost feel like calling Janette and asking for a Xanax. Hopefully, that’s her here now. I shuffle across the floor in my baggy pajamas and open door without thinking to look to see who it is. That’s how out of it I am.
Brisban.
Oh God.
Air in. Air out.
Just breathe.
“Hi.”
One word.
One voice.
One man.
And I nearly falter, forgetting everything that’s transpired in the last 12 hours. To say I’m rendered speechless would be the understatement of the year.
“I’m sorry for showing up like this but you never responded to my texts. Dawn gave me your address. I hope that’s okay.”
Am I Alice and is this a dark rabbit hole where ex-wives—who are really wives—give booty call girl's addresses to their not so ex-husband?
“Can you please say something? Anything, please.”
The words fall out of my mouth before I can even register them with my ears. “You’re not divorced.”
He doesn’t look surprised or worried. “No, not technically.” His composure doesn’t waiver and the confusion grows.
“What does that mean?”
He motions inside my house. “Can I come in? I’ll tell you what it means. I knew when James saw me with Dawn last night he would do this. I came straight to you when I couldn’t get you on the phone. Just let me explain.”
My stomach flip flops, but not in a good way. I turn and run toward the bathroom. “I’m going to be sick…again. Don’t follow me.” I grip my stomach with one hand and hold the other over my mouth as I try to get to the toilet. I make it just in time. Again, I get up and wash my face and brush my teeth. My reflection in the mirror makes me wince. I look awful. He’s never seen me like this before and I’m mortified.
“Are you okay back there?” He yells. Padding down the hallway I find him still standing in the doorway. I never told him he could come in so he hadn’t. My heart melts a little and I motion for him to come in.
“You can come in.”
He shuts the door behind him. He looks exhausted, wearing the same jeans and shirt he had on last night. It looks like he never went to bed.
“You need to get some rest, Brisban. You didn’t need to come and explain yourself to me.”
His presence in my home feels oddly comforting despite the circumstances.
“I do have to explain. I want to explain.” His words are laced with desperation and all I want to do is hug him.
“Okay. Would you like something to drink? Coffee?”
He shakes his head. “No, I’m good.”
“Those circles under your eyes say otherwise.”
A light shrug of his broad shoulders and he says, “I’m tired but coffee can’t help this kind of tired.”
I sit down on the sofa and he sits in the wingback chair across from me.
“Dawn and I never finalized our divorce because there was no death certificate for our daughter and insurance issues got tied up in court. Dawn and I never could agree on things, therefore it was never final. I wouldn’t accept Willow’s death so I refused to finalize anything in regards to assets that would ultimately go to her. Dawn wanted everything over and done. Even though I always knew deep down she was gone, I wouldn’t let it be said out loud and, if I agreed to her terms, it was me saying my daughter was never coming back.”
Guilt parades through my head and tears prick my eyes. “I’m sorry for your loss.” I don’t know what else to say. What do you say in a moment like this anyway?