His Wounded Light (15 page)

Up to this day, I don’t know how to describe how I felt. My chest hurt. I felt sick to my stomach. I was so wracked with jealousy and anger that I could not and would not think straight. I marched directly to the front desk and demanded to be given his room number. Everyone looked at me like I was crazy. When that was unsuccessful, I quickly dialed her sister, Alicia’s, number. She answered on the third ring.

“Hello?” I totally didn’t care that it was past midnight. Way past her bedtime. It was very thoughtless of me, really, considering that she had young children.

“Alicia. I just saw her.”

“Who? Jesse, is that you? Are you okay? It’s the middle of the night.”

“Your sister. I just saw her. He was hanging all over her. It looked so disgusting, like they were about to have sex in front of everybody.”

“Where are you?” she asked calmly.

“At the Four Seasons. Why are they here? Why are they going upstairs to the rooms?”

“Jesse. They just got engaged.”

“Engaged to what?”

“To be married.” There was no hesitation in her voice.

“What? It’s only been twenty-nine days, Alicia! What are you talking about?”

She chuckled involuntarily when she heard me mouth off the exact length of time we’d been apart. “What I said. He proposed tonight. They’re getting married.”

“No. Goddamn it. No. Call her cell phone for me, please. Tell her to come down to the lobby now!”

“What? Are you crazy? I’m not going to do that! Go home and get some sleep and call me in the morning.” She hung up the phone before even hearing whatever else I planned to say.

I stumbled around among faceless people, planning my next move. Images of her naked in his arms plagued my head, causing me to run out into the parking lot to vomit. I heaved into the phone as it rang in the middle of my ordeal. I knew it was Ryan looking for me.

“I can’t make it,” I said hoarsely. “Something came up. Leave without me.”

I pressed END even before Ryan could react, ran back into the lobby, and headed straight for the bar on the second floor. It was surprisingly empty, maybe because of all the other events going on in the hotel.

“Scotch on the rocks, straight up. Bring me three.”

It didn’t faze the bartender at all to fill three orders all at once. I downed my drinks and kept to myself. That laugh. It rang in my ear. The images of her in that dress; that guy enjoying her skin. That used to be me. She swore that it would always be me. I didn’t understand how she had room in her heart for someone else when it used to be filled with me. My mind was rambling. I needed to do something but I didn’t have a clue. Very quickly, the drinks turned from three to six to nine.

“Why do you hate me so much?” the girl in the long pink dress asked. She was back, searching the hotel for me, no doubt.

“You, again? Didn’t I tell you to leave me alone?” I slurred my words as I strained to keep my thoughts intact.

“Why? It’s not like you’re busy.”

I had to laugh at that one. I stood up abruptly and held on to my stool to overcome a head rush. I placed a $100 bill on the bar and grabbed her hand.

“Where are we going?” she asked innocently as I yanked her arm all the way towards the parking lot.

“You know where.”

We arrived at my car and I opened the right side door to let her in. She smiled at me and slid inside, waiting for me to enter from the driver side.

I did, leaning back on my seat and unzipping my pants. I didn’t have to say a word. Her lips were on me in a flash. I closed my eyes and imagined it was her. No one felt like her, touched like her, loved like her.

“Issy!” I yelled as I came inside pink dress girl’s mouth.

All I remember was waking up alone. The blinding sun further exacerbated the pounding of my head. I looked down and saw that I had zipped myself up at some point during the night. I started the car up and headed home to take a shower. “It’s not over,” I said to myself. The biggest fight of my life was just about to begin.

I’m not sure how word had spread so quickly, but I could tell by the sad looks on their faces that my family knew about it as soon as I walked into the house. My mother followed me around as I walked into the kitchen to get myself a drink.

“Jesse, where have you been? You smell like alcohol.”

“I’m going upstairs to take a shower.”

“You can still fight for her, you know. It’s not over until she walks down that aisle.”

“I know, Ma. That’s what I intend to do.”

Minutes later, I was out the door and on the way to Alicia’s house.

“Jesse, come in,” she said warily as she opened her front door.

“Is she still at the Four Seasons?”

“Yes.”

“It’s nice to know she’s having a blast,” I commented icily, intentionally taking a stab at Isa’s virtue.

“That’s not fair. If that was you with her, you wouldn’t have a problem with it. She deserves him, Jesse. He’s so good to her.”

“It can’t be over for me. I’m not letting her go,” I announced loudly.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to make her see what she means to me.” I kissed Alicia on the cheek and walked back to my car, leaving her with a worried look on her face as she leaned against the door and watched me drive away.

***

“I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together again and tell myself that the mended whole was as good as new. What is broken is broken—and I’d rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken pieces as long as I lived.”

—Margaret Mitchell

Well, I’m here to report that nothing worked. Not the gifts, not the cards, not the poem, not the flowers. The wedding was still on. In fact, the date was even moved up. I couldn’t believe it. Hearing about the accelerated date was enough to push me over the edge, especially after I spent the last two weeks enduring a grueling walk down memory lane while creating that scrapbook. I felt like a wimp, all emotional and bleary-eyed about the years we had spent loving each other.
How? How did she forget me so easily?
I was home alone at my parents’ house the Sunday I wrote the poems and letters for delivery at her office. I had to rummage through the boxes in the garage to find all the little treasures that I had saved over the years we were together. The day was flooded with thoughts and visions of her; it felt good to bury myself in it after denying her for so long. I distinctly recall sitting down on top of the stairs and reminiscing about the little hallway that lead outside our bedroom door and into the bathroom. I thought of the afternoon two years before when I’d pushed her against that wall and made love to her while my family watched television in the adjacent room.

I watched her each and every day when I delivered those gifts to her office. I watched her every evening from my car, figuring she was working late because her lover was on one of his business trips. I could see her clearly as she walked out of the building, sometimes with a group of co-workers, other times alone. She looked nervous as she glanced around the street before getting into her vehicle; somehow I knew it was because she expected me to be there.

On a Wednesday night, I followed her to D Marks, where she met Betty. I spied from afar, imagining what they were discussing, watching as they spoke in hushed voices, their facial expressions serious. This may sound heartsick, but I was so turned on by just watching her sip her wine and savor those chips. I missed her so fucking much.

The last day I sent the flowers, I received a call from her sister, Alicia. An angry one.

“Jesse, stop what you’re doing. It’s making them fight. I don’t like seeing my sister unhappy like that. Just stop it!”

“Honestly, Alicia? I’m glad she’s unhappy. Tell her I’m miserable and that I’m going to get her back.” I hung up the phone and threw it across the room. I needed to go to Plan B, but Plan B involved my family members and I didn’t have much time to spare. I called for a meeting that very same day, in the evening, knowing that I had to wait for my one brother to arrive home from work.

I think they all knew why I got them together. We sat at the kitchen table making small talk, the dialogue dying down as soon as I cleared my throat to speak.

“I’m going to ask Isa to marry me,” I blurted out.

No one looked surprised. I said it so matter-of-factly that it came out as if I was just discussing my day with them.

“Son, she’s already engaged to be married,” my father reminded me. His kind eyes penetrated mine and I felt the empathy he had for what I was going through.

“I know, Pops. I’m going to propose to her now, before she walks down that aisle.”

Silence.

And then extreme surprise when my entire family, sisters included, began clapping wildly, cheering me on. My mouth turned up into a smile. Never in my life had I felt so much support for something that was so hopeless. Or hopeful.

“When are you going to look for the ring?” my younger sister asked.

“Tomorrow. I have the funds, so I can buy something right away. Would you like to come and help me choose one, Kerry?” I dotingly placed my arm around my sister. She loved Isabel so much.

The woman that I loved spent many afternoons here helping my sisters with their homework and keeping my parents company while I was at my Student Council meetings. She was a special part of our family for seven years.

“Yes! Can we go after school?” she asked excitedly as she wrapped her arms around my waist.

“I’ll pick you and Mama up tomorrow afternoon. I have a ring in mind. I’ll make the calls tomorrow morning.”

And the rest shall I say, is history.

After the incident with the gifts, Isa hardly went to work. I waited for her in the evenings, hoping to be able to speak to her, but I was told that she had taken a leave of absence in preparation for her wedding. Her security detail was also ramped up. That fuckhead Ailey had a bodyguard with her every minute of every day, so there was an entourage of followers wherever she went. I couldn’t get to her; my calls to her sisters were left unanswered.

I was running out of time. The wedding was mentioned in all the society pages of the national newspapers. Everywhere I turned, there was talk about her bridesmaids, her sponsors, her dress, the upcoming guests, etcetera ad nauseam. I even tried to contact her old friends from high school, people in the bridal party, asking them for help. No one called me back. I was inconsolable; I drank myself into unconsciousness most nights during the three weeks leading up to her wedding. Nothing in my life made any sense. I had to get to her sisters, no matter what the cost. I was committed to this mission even if it meant sitting outside in my car to wait for a chance to see her.

I arrived outside her house a little past five in the afternoon the Friday before the wedding, knowing that they would have to leave for the dinner soon. Her mother’s house was located on a main street right across from the high school that she attended. Some event was going on at the school that allowed me to park in relative obscurity among the many other cars lined up along the sidewalk. I sat in my car and occupied myself with music and a book, waiting for them to appear. I was so paranoid that I would miss her, so keeping my attention on a book wasn’t really a good idea for this purpose.