KNOT: A Wake Family Novel (51 page)

Nora—Monday, June 7, 2010

A
t the time, I’d considered going to a hotel instead of his condo but didn’t. I hadn’t known when Reagan would be home or if he’d want me there. Maybe it had been a mistake to go to him, but when he called, it wasn’t within my power to decide.

He needed me.
I went.

The only two things I knew were: he’d be home, and I’d be there waiting. Although I’d wanted to go to Seattle, I wasn’t sure I could ever face his family. Not at a time like that.

No. He didn’t need another thing to manage. I couldn’t imagine the anxiety he was feeling. I’d only add to it.

When he arrived at his condo, I hadn’t expected him to be so different. So tired and rung out. Maybe it was the whole thing with his sister—and rightly so, if that were the case—but it felt like more.

He was only
almost
Reagan. Like half of him had been cut away and was missing.

No matter how big the fight or how good the moment, he’d always felt like Reagan to me.

He’d changed. It bruised me inside thinking I didn’t know him anymore.

As I checked into the Harbor, I replayed our latest fight. All through dealing with my fucked up reservation, riding the elevator up, and even as I laid there in the bed, I heard him say he’d been with someone else.
The past week.

I hadn’t been with anyone—hadn’t even considered it. The idea never came to me to have sex with another person, let alone a couple. My body was dormant without him.

My legs and arms spread across the cool sheets, and once again I understood heartache. I knew the pain. The destruction. The realization that I’d made such a huge mistake that I’d never erase it. Never forgive myself. It made me care about little else.

Time wouldn’t heal it. It was something I’d have to live with. A grief that wouldn’t pass. Even beautiful stained glass church windows wouldn’t comfort me.

We hadn’t talked about other relationships in our emails for a reason. It was too dangerous.

I’d often wondered if he was dating someone, but if that were the case, wouldn’t she have been there for him? Wouldn’t he have called her?

Was he merely sleeping around? Because, from the way he’d said it, it seemed so.

He said it didn’t work, yet that wasn’t the part that cut the most. The fact he tried was destructive enough.

I’d try to forget him, too.

Take a nap.

Shower. Dress. Heels.

The hotel bar was perfect.

Good. New bartender. Maybe I wouldn’t see anyone I’d worked with.

“Cabernet, please,”

Get a refill, then another.

“I’m just passing through town, too.”

His eyes were brown, like someone I knew.

Refill. He’s buying.

Fuck sleeping with a couple.

Maybe some new memories with one, single other man could hide the ones that haunted me.

Smile.

He’s not funny. Laugh anyway.

I could do this.
He
did this.

Just because it didn’t work for him didn’t mean it wouldn’t work for me.

“You’re a cop?”

That made him safe enough. I guessed.

What did I care anyway?

Refill.

“Divorces are hard.”

I don’t even care if he’s lying.

“No. I’m alone.”

More phony laughs. More insincere smiles.

Was he buying my act?

His hand on my leg.

Don’t smack it away, Nora.

He’s nice enough. He’ll do.

His room, not mine.

Lights off.
Perfect
.

Condom.

His body was strange against me. I was taller than him.

He didn’t use his tongue when he kissed.

Like I give a fuck.

He didn’t hold me tight enough. I still felt Reagan’s grip.

“Vivian, I’m about to come.”

I supposed I shouldn’t have lied about my name.

It was morbid, but I was drunk.

Lesson learned.

He came. I faked.

I didn’t bother with my shoes and left.

I sat in the chair in my room and realized that fucking bear knew what he was talking about. When would I ever just believe him?

I called him from my bed after I took a drunk shower to wash the cop off my skin.

He didn’t answer. Good for him.

I left a message because it felt like the braver thing to do. Reagan always loved hearing when he was right anyway.

“I fucked some guy tonight. Maybe you were right. It didn’t fix a goddamned thing.”

He didn’t answer the next day when I called or the day after that.

I emailed Jekyll and Hyde to let them in on the whole ordeal. That account was more like a diary than anything else. Somehow, it nearly felt satisfying getting it out.

I could have switched my flights, but I didn’t, and after days of drinking and ordering take out, waiting for my flight back, I resigned to the notion that things were never going to change.

Maybe there was some part of me that wanted him to come find me, but even that bitch knew he wouldn’t. He knew where to look.

Against my better judgement, I called him one last time before I left. At that point, who they hell knew why. Nothing made any sense.

“Hello,” he said to my utter disbelief. I knew he was probably at work, but I didn’t care. I’d waited as long as I could. My flight was leaving that night.

“Hey.”

“Are you back home now?” He sounded more himself, hitting me with a question right off the bat. It was encouraging.

“Still in Chicago. I didn’t think you’d answer. How’s your sister? Is
she
home now?” What I really wanted to ask was
do you want to come to my hotel and have sex with me
. The fact he was no longer the last man to kiss my lips or touch me made me ill.

“Yeah, she’s doing considerably better. Thanks for asking.”

“Good, so how are you?” I sucked at small talk with him. Nothing I said was ever small enough. Every word I used always had some sort of attachment to it.

“You know me. I’m good,” he lied.

“Well, I’m glad everything worked out. They had a rough road.” I was happy his sister was healing from whatever happened. I didn’t have all of the details, but it sounded horrific. I can only imagine how much it killed Reagan to see her hurt.

“Listen, are you going to be around for a while?” He spoke quickly, and I heard the tell-tale blip of something over the phone line.

My flight was in seven hours. “What’s a while?”

He huffed, annoyed as usual. “Ten minutes? My sister is calling.”

I didn’t want to fight anymore.

“I don’t know.” Why couldn’t I ever leave him alone?

“I’ll call you back in ten minutes, Nora. If you can’t talk, don’t answer. It’s that simple.” His tone was reminiscent of when it all began. When I hated him bossing me around and prying. It’s strange, the things you miss when you care about someone. But he wasn’t my Reagan anymore. We were acquaintances.

I needed to accept that.

“Bye,
Reggie
.”

When I disconnected our call, I knew he’d call back in ten minutes. It was just his way. I watched the time tick down and waited. Ten minutes, six hundred seconds in full. It didn’t ring.

I’d never known him to be late for anything.

I hoped his sister was okay, but mostly that he wasn’t ignoring me again. Then again, for his sake and mine, maybe if he was, it was finally for the best. Withdrawal from him was always a nasty bitch.

My phone rang, and an old thrill ran through me. A phantom feeling from the past.

“Well, well. That was longer than ten minutes,” I teased. “Did you lose track of time?” I couldn’t resist.

He paused, then cleared his throat. “Well, it was either not call and possibly miss you while you’re still in town—or call.”
Late.
He didn’t say late, but I heard it.

“Look at you meeting me half way.” Exactly how all of it started.

He countered, “That’s not what this is, and you know it.”

“Our place?” He knew where to find me, where he found me the first time.
The Harbor Hotel.

He groaned, and I could hear the words he said through his clenched teeth. “Ten minutes?”

“Don’t be late this time.” I hung up before he could argue.

Although it had only been a few days since we’d been together, and not like the months that normally separated our rendezvous, he was ravenous with me. Missing was the way he used to want me to look at him. He didn’t try, and neither did I.

He bent me over the wooden table the television sat on. He didn’t even take off his shirt. He’d simply pulled his pants down and lifted my skirt.

The way we needed the other’s body wasn’t about romance anymore. We craved each other like a person needed food or water. When you’re hungry enough, dry toast will do. If you’re parched, you’ll drink from the tap. Much like any other rudimentary bodily function, that was the way we were.

He still brought me to climax after turning me to face him, although there was less vigor. No pomp and circumstance. No playing, no exploring or teasing.

That was what we were left with, but it was still enough.

“Harder,” I cried. I wanted to feel him between my legs for days to come. He obeyed and fucked me like I asked. Hard. Deep. Brutal. Just like us.

He didn’t cry out my name when he came, he only pressed his chest against mine and found his breath.

“I’m so fucking sick of this cat and mouse game. Do you think this was finally the last time?” he asked. He pulled out of me, and I slithered to the floor.

I looked up at him and confessed, “I always pray it is.”

Then, he replied, “So do I.”

When my eyes met his, I knew without a doubt he was telling the truth. It was excruciating. My pain couldn’t be hidden.

I wept, heartbroken all over again, and he left before I could even say goodbye.

Reggie—Monday, June 14, 2010

I
didn’t wait for her tell me to leave. The decision wasn’t hard, I wanted her to see me go. Additionally, I made my exit before I joined her on the floor. Deep down, I wanted to.

I had to put a stop to it. We weren’t going to fix what we’d broken.

When she’d left me the message about fucking some guy when she’d been drunk, it had affected me more than she knew. I’d never expected her to be careless—not like that.