Unhinge

“And you believe that?” I sputtered.

  “Of course I do. I mean, you’ve clearly been unhappy for a while.”

  “How would you know?” I snapped.

  “Well, I have a pair of eyes that work perfectly fine. It’s clear something is wrong with you!”

  “For legit reasons that you don’t even know about!”

  “Tell me,” she urged. “Maybe I can help.”

  “It’s none of your business and no, you can’t help.”

  My mother crossed her arms. “Now calm down. I didn’t come here to get into a fight with you.” She stood up and walked around the island, her hands outstretched for a hug. I took a step back. My heart was thumping so hard, I could barely breathe.

  “He told me you expressed to him that you weren’t happy in the marriage.”

  Of course he did.

  “He loves you dearly. My God, he was a wreck when I talked to him.”

  I dragged my hands through my hair and took a deep breath. I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. Everyone else around me saw this wonderful man. No one ever saw the side I did. He hid it so well that I looked like the liar. I looked like the villain.

  “You have to give your marriage a chance.”

  “You shouldn’t hand out advice when you don’t have the full story.”

  “Enlighten me, then. Fill in the blanks.”

  “Will you believe me?”

  She hesitated. Just for a second, but long enough to show that she probably wouldn’t. She saw my life, my marriage as a trophy she could tote around and show off to her friends, and if I told her just a small bit of how I was feeling, she’d do everything in her power to talk me out of it.

  “I’m beginning to think I married a complete stranger.”

  “Victoria, that’s ridiculous. You—”

  “Can you let me finish?” I threw my hands up in the air. “You’re so quick to correct me when you don’t even know the full story.”

  “Fine. Keep going.”

  “As I was saying, I think the man I married isn’t what he seems.”

  “It doesn’t matter!” She couldn’t help herself. She had to give her opinion. “You stop at nothing for the people you love the most.”

  Wes would stop at nothing until he captured my soul and put it in a glass jar.

  “And I know you love Wes,” she said.

  “I love the side of him that’s good,” I admitted slowly. “Yet, unfortunately, even when that side is out, I can’t help but wonder when the bad will creep back up.”

  “Victoria, you are a married woman. You made vows.”

  Based on how my mother said the four-letter word, it sounded sacred. A consecrated moment of promises you should never try to escape.

  “So do you want to tell me what’s going on inside that mind of yours?” she asked.

  Seconds ticked by. My mother waited for an answer while I stared at my half-eaten bagel as though it held all the secrets to my problems. I thought of the brief note he left on my pillow the next morning. I thought of how Wes and I lived at cross purposes, where he assumed “sorry” made the slate clean and his long hours provided me with comfort that made me happy. And I thought of how I had moved out of the master bedroom and into the guest bedroom, refusing to let Wes touch me or be in the same room as him, all in a last-ditch effort to protect myself.

  “He’s been stressed with work, hasn’t he?” my mother prodded.

  “Yes.”

  “Honey, everything is okay. Arguments are going to happen. It’s inevitable. But that doesn’t mean you should run and hide. You have to face each problem head-on and you have to do that together.”

  “It’s not that simple. None of this is.” Nervously, I licked my lips. “There’s something wrong with him, Mom. I mean, something seriously twisted,” I said.

  “Victoria, that’s just your imagination. You’ve—”

  “It’s not my fucking imagination!” I dragged my hands through my hair and fought the urge to tug at the strands. God, I really felt like I was going crazy. “You haven’t seen him when he gets all angry. It’s beyond anything I can explain. He turns into a different person!”

  “Victoria,” she said calmly. “Listen to me, okay?”

  Slowly, I met her eyes.

  “It’s a constant battle to keep your head above the water. If you try to work past this, the two of you will make it to the other side.”

  My mother has always believed that every challenge has a solution if you try hard enough. But this wasn’t a challenge. It was a living, breathing nightmare.

  “And what happens if we don’t?”

  She looked me in the eye. “Then at least you know you tried.”

  There was nothing I could say to that.

  “I have to get going.” She stood and gave me a weak smile as she hugged me. I was in such a state of shock that I stood frozen, like a block of ice.

  When she pulled back, she looked me in the eye. “Why don’t you look through the box I gave you?”

  I frowned. “Old memories aren’t going to help me.”

  “You’re wrong,” she said softly. “They help all of us.”

  We walked toward the front door. My mother opened up the box she had brought over. She pulled out a photo album, looking ready to take a trip down memory lane. I had no desire to join her; I was still reeling from our conversation.

  She flipped through the first few pictures before she pulled out a photo and handed it to me. It was of me as a little baby. “Why are we looking at this?”

  My mother plucked the picture from my hands. “Maybe you two should consider starting a family.” She brushed her thumb across the glossy surface of the picture. “Having you and your brother was the best thing I’d ever done and brought your dad and me closer than I ever thought possible.”

  She had no idea that we’d been trying for a child for a while. I had no desire to tell her either. So I nodded my head and followed her to the door, yet all the while, my heart was breaking apart.

  When the door closed behind her, I leaned against it and closed my eyes.

  Deep down I knew there was no amount of sorrys, no gifts or child that could ever bring Wes and me back together again.

  July 2014

  “What do you think about this one?”

  Sinclair peered at the flower. “The black rose?” He shook his head. “Too dark.”

  I brushed my fingers against the deep purple petals. “I kind of like them.”

  “You’re supposed to be helping Renee make a bouquet for a wedding, not a funeral.”

  We were in Renee’s flower shop. It was downtown, in the heart of Falls Church. It was a quaint little place with a green and white striped awning that had seen better days. The front door was painted black, with chips of paint flaking off around the doorknob. A bell was looped around the door handle. People seemed drawn to its exterior, and curious to step into a place that looked like it had been there for decades. When the weather was warm, plants and bouquets would be displayed right outside the store.

  The shop was Renee’s pride and joy, and the fact that she trusted me enough to let me run it, even for two hours, was shocking. The first thirty minutes I fidgeted behind the cash register, completely clueless about what to do. Sinclair showed up an hour ago. He was just as clueless as me and we made a useless pair.

  The weather was bleak. Rain clouds came in and thunder rumbled in the distance; only one customer had walked in.

  “This could be for a wedding.” I gathered the long-stemmed roses and held them out to Sinclair. “Here’s your bouquet. I wish you well in your future failed marriage.”

  Sinclair lifted a brow. “I don’t know how she does this shit. I’m getting high off all these flowers.”

  “She has a talent, that’s for sure.”

  “Apparently you do too if she lets you help her create her bouquet masterpieces.”

  I shrugged and went back to trimming the stems of some black roses. Sinclair was still dresse
d in black pants and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The logo of his construction company was on the left side of his shirt. He’d been here for an hour and showed no signs of leaving soon. It was fine by me. I loved when he was around, which lately was a lot.

  We started talking on the phone just days after Wes and I moved into our house. They were quick conversations that became steadily longer. Soon we started to email each other.

  He never came to my house. Instead I would spend time with him at Renee’s shop. It was our meeting place and I cherished every second; without him something malignant lived in me, slowly killing me. Around him, though, I came alive. I could breathe.

  I could be.

  It was hard to believe that I had met Sinclair only nine months ago. It felt like it had been longer. We talked to each other with such ease. He never looked uninterested in what I had to say. It felt amazing to know someone was listening to me.

  During all this, we never did anything inappropriate. We knew there was an invisible line between the two of us that neither should cross. But I was inching closer and closer to that line and it was getting harder and harder not to cross it.

  “Why are you all dressed up?” I asked him.

  “I had a meeting with a potential client. A huge house out on Bellamy Road.”

  “I could be getting a new neighbor?”

  He grinned and my stomach twisted. “You could, but nothing’s set in stone.”

  I bit down on my lip to hide my smile. I loved that Sinclair was confiding in me. When I asked him how his day was going, he didn’t shrug his shoulders and slam his office door. He didn’t narrow his eyes and ask what my angle was. He told me the truth. Someday, in the near future, I hoped I could do the same with him.

  Gathering the stems, I tossed them in the trash. “How did you live with her growing up?” I asked over my shoulder.

  “Oh, it was a nightmare.”

  “Really?”

  Sinclair nodded and grinned devilishly. Already I could see the mischievous brother he was to Renee. “Her room was always spotless. Every single thing had a place. Everything. If anything was ever moved from its designated area the world was over.”

  “And your room?”

  “Fucking disaster. It drove her crazy. When she got in trouble, she never got grounded or had things taken away. No, our mom would make her hang out in my room.”

  Resting my elbows on the worktable, I smiled and leaned in closer. Both Renee and Sinclair had this…spark about them. Instinctively, people were drawn toward them, anxious to hear the next words that slipped from their lips.

  “Poor Renee,” I commented.

  “Not poor Renee,” Sinclair quickly replied. “More like poor world. Or poor Sinclair!”

  I grabbed the broom leaning against the wall and swept the floor for the millionth time; honestly, this place was immaculate. “It’s probably a good thing that we met as adults then,” I said.

  “Why?”

  “She sounds like she’s always had her life put together. Whereas mine has been…scattered.”

  “Really?”

  I nodded. “I was the youngest. I was carefree and wild. If things got done, they did. If something was wrong, then just figure out a way to fix it. I switched my major so many times in college I lost count. I wanted to dip my hands into everything, ignoring the fact that it was impossible. It drove my mother crazy how relaxed I was. It still does.”

  “You sound more like a free-love hippie than the ‘youngest child.’ ”

  I gave him a look over my shoulder and continued cleaning up. “All I’m saying is that she would’ve taken one look at wild Victoria and run in the other direction.”

  “Doubtful. You probably looked beautiful then, just as you do now.” He said the words so quietly that at first they didn’t register. Kind of like a whisper—it took a second to process.

  My head lifted and I found Sinclair looking me straight in the eye. I didn’t see regret or embarrassment. He meant every single word. My stomach twisted tightly from the intensity in his gaze.

  We were quickly veering past the normal bounds of conversation into a place we had no business being in.

  It was then that I realized Sinclair had listened to every word I said. Better yet, he seemed interested. My husband didn’t. Even from the beginning, conversations always circled around Wes. He would listen to me talk but it always came back to him in the end. And maybe I’d known that all along. Maybe I’d told myself I was okay with that.

  But I had to admit, it felt amazing to be heard.

  Sinclair cleared his throat. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course,” I replied as I set the scissors down.

  “Did you work before you got married?”

  I paused, my hands hovering over the vase. “I was a nurse.”

  “But not now,” he stated flatly.

  I nodded. “Wes and I wanted to start a family.”

  Wes and I? What a joke. The more time that passed, the more I realized that Wes could spend the rest of his life childless and be perfectly fine.

  “But not anymore?” Sinclair asked.

  “Not anymore.”

  Sinclair leaned against the table, watching me carefully, as if I were a puzzle piece he couldn’t seem to click into place. “Do you miss being a nurse?”

  “I do.” My voice was quiet even to my own ears. This should have been a moment where I quickly changed the subject, but my lips parted. “I worked mostly in the emergency room. It was crazy most of the time. Sometimes I would be so exhausted at the end of the day I would lay my head on the pillow and pass out. But there was always something new each day. It was never dull.”

  “You really loved it.”

  I smiled very faintly. “I still do.”

  “Then go back.”

  I lowered the scissors and looked at Sinclair beneath my lashes. “I wish it was that simple.”

  “Of course it’s that simple.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s—” Abruptly I stopped talking. Frustration was starting to creep into my words. It was impossible to explain the situation to him. He wouldn’t understand. No one would understand.

  “I’m not trying to make you angry,” Sinclair said after a beat of silence.

  I slumped over the table and rubbed my temples. I wished I could tell him the truth. “I know you’re not.”

  He stood up and walked around the table. His shoulder brushed against mine. Heat. All heat. It was enough to make me feel like I was going up in flames. Or maybe that was my body reacting to him. Not even with Wes did I respond that way. I wanted to shift my arm away but I couldn’t. It was amazing to have all these feelings brewing inside me.

  “I would say I’m trying not to pry into your life, but that’s not true.”

  Instead of answering, I kept my head down, staring at the oak table.

  “I’ve watched how he is with you….It isn’t right.”

  Sinclair rested his elbows on the table and looked into my eyes and leaned in so close, our faces were mere inches apart. The guise of friendship slipped from his eyes, only to be replaced with blatant desire. Goosebumps broke out across my skin.

  “You deserve better,” he said gruffly.

  I nodded, the only thing I could do. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t speak.

  What was this between us?

  I’ve loved.

  I’ve liked.

  I’ve lusted.

  But none of those feelings came close to right now.

  I knew that Sinclair felt this…this connection between us too. His brows slammed together as his gaze made a game of going between my lips and eyes. On his tan neck, I could see the fluttering of his pulse.

  It was beating just as hard as mine.

  Sinclair moved closer. And I did the craziest thing: I leaned in too. But I didn’t feel like I had a choice. I couldn’t remember the last time a man actually looked at me and didn’t see me as his to own. I wanted t
o be honest with Sinclair and tell him just that. My mouth opened.

  “Sinclair, I—”

  Right then the shop bells sounded as the door opened. I jumped away from the table like it was on fire.

  “Okay, I’m back,” Renee said, out of breath. She carried two large brown bags. Her steps were quick as she made a beeline to where Sinclair and I now stood with a healthy distance between us. “That took much longer than I anticipated.”

  I crossed my arms and then dropped my hands to my sides. I crossed my arms again. I couldn’t stop fidgeting. I couldn’t stop sneaking glances at Sinclair. He had stood up. His hands were on his narrow hips. He stared at me, his gaze unflinching.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said to Renee just a little too loudly. “Everything was fine.”

  She dropped the bags onto the table and glanced at me curiously. Her eyes flitted between Sinclair and me. “Was it too crazy here?”

  “One customer.”

  Renee whistled. “Sounds like it was a packed house,” she replied dryly.

  I could feel Sinclair’s eyes on me. But Renee was already on to me. There was no way I was looking in his direction. I pointed to the bags. “What did you get?”

  “Oh!” Renee clapped her hands excitedly and reached into the bags. “After my appointment, I went to the farmers’ market. I found this beautiful flower that I know you’ll just love….”

  She continued to talk. Her mouth moved up and down but I couldn’t latch on to a single word. I looked over her head, to where Sinclair stood. With my eyes I pleaded for him to not push what almost happened.

  “…I think I’m going to try and make it a weekly trip,” Renee said. She flipped through her calendar, and stopped short. Her face turned pale. Her elbows landed on either side of the calendar as she stared down at it. “Shit, shit, shit, shit.” Renee dragged her hands through her hair.

  I tried to peer at the schedule but her arms covered it. “What’s wrong?”

  “I forgot to drop off flowers.”

  “For?” Sinclair asked.

  “A client. I completely forgot. Jeff and I had a date night all planned out for tonight.”

  “I’ll do it,” I blurted out.

  Renee looked visibly shocked. “What?”