Unforgiven(54)

“What the fuck,” I mumble to myself as I pick up and open the box. I remember her buying this box of condoms when she was sick and on antibiotics, but we never used them. I count nine condoms from a ten-count box. My stomach flips and my heart sinks. I put the box back in the drawer and close it, hard. The lamp that sits on the table shakes and eventually falls over, crashing to the wood floor.
“Matt,” Jess asks quietly from behind me. “Are you okay? Did you find pills?” I turn quickly and find her leaning against the doorframe.#p#分页标题#e#
“Did she mention she was seeing anybody?” I don’t know why I ask. I honest to God think it’s best not to know the answer to that question, but somewhere deep inside, I need to know.
“She didn’t say anything about seeing anyone.” She walks toward me tentatively. “Did you find something?” I stare at the piles of clothes, shoes, and purses on the floor of her bedroom and lose myself in thoughts of her with another man. I nod my head.
“Yeah, a box of condoms—one’s missing.” Jess’ eyes open wide and she purses her lips, but she doesn’t say anything, “And this picture of her and some guy drinking wine.” I fling the picture at Jess, who catches it and glances at it briefly. Her eyes widen in what I presume is recognition.
“Matt, none of us can be upset about anything we find. We’re nosing around through her personal items, and I know it’s for good reason, but it’s still her personal stuff,” she says with sympathy in her eyes. “I did things with someone,” she looks over her shoulder and out into the living room where Landon is searching the media stand, “when I wasn’t with Gabe. I can’t confirm she did anything, but you can’t be angry with her. You’re not together.”
“I am angry, Jess. I’m fucking irate,” I scream at her. “She let another man touch her.”
“We don’t know that.” She raises her voice back at me.
“What’s going on?” Landon asks, stepping into the bedroom.
“I need some fresh air, that’s what’s going on,” I say, pushing past both of them.
I spend the next hour sitting on a lounge chair, sweating my ass off on Lindsay’s patio. It’s amazing how quickly the decisions you’ve been struggling to make come to you when you’re angry. I beat myself up for not agreeing to come with Lindsay when she asked me, but instead, I rejected her pleas and she left anyway—alone.
I peel my sweaty body off the thick-cushioned chair and into the retreat of the air-conditioned condo. Landon and Jess sit on the couch talking while Jess folds a pile of clothes, setting them on the coffee table in front of her.
“Hey,” Landon says as I close the patio door behind me. Both Jess and Landon watch me hesitantly.
“Hey,” I reply somberly.
“You okay, man?” Landon asks.
“Been better; not gonna lie.”
“Matt, she loves you,” Jess says. “We talked about it. This entire decision was based on her needing to do something just once in her life for herself. She set career goals for herself and you know she’s one to give everything she has once she’s set her mind on something. She didn’t realize it was going to destroy everything she loved. She hates her job, she hates Phoenix—she hates herself.”
I nod my head before turning to Landon. “I’m going to grab my bag from the car and catch a cab to the airport. It’s probably best that you and Jess talk to her without me.” I clench my jaw and choke back my emotions.
“Matt, you have to see her,” Jess begs me. “Don’t leave without seeing her.”
“Honestly, Jess, I’ve seen enough. She has clearly moved on. You two and whatever his name is—the guy in the picture—can take care of her,” I say quietly before walking away—for good.




 
 
I wake up and try to talk, but am suddenly scared when I realize where I am—in a hospital, alone, with a tube down my throat. As I try to remember how I got here, a doctor and nurse finally come in to remove my breathing tube and answer all the questions that have been going through my head. My fingers brush against the large bandage on my forehead, but it’s the throbbing headache that really gets my attention. It’s a combination of feeling like I’ve been hit in the head with a baseball bat and the worst hangover I’ve ever had. They quietly disappear with promise of returning soon and I let the gravity of my situation finally settle in.
I rest my arm on a pillow to keep the IV from tugging at the delicate skin on my arm. It’s then I feel the warm tears form in my eyes and slide down my cheeks, pooling in my hair, which rests on the foam hospital pillow. I roll onto my side and sob for everything I’ve done to get me to this point. My stomach aches with hunger and turns with disgust all at the same time. This is truly my rock bottom.