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aviationfiction · 7 years

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XIX

Autumn Dupont

It’ll get better.

This is a new beginning for you.

Though it may hurt now, ultimately, you will realize that it’s for the better.

Now is the time for your personal growth.

Some people believe that holding on and working on it is what makes you strong; sometimes it’s letting go that is the strongest act that one can do.

I’ve heard it all.

I have pages and pages of a marble notebook filled with the many different quotes and words of advice that I’ve been given in reference to divorce from Dr. Jill, my parents, Issac, and friends. Though I didn’t do it out right, I eventually laughed at every single one of them for loosely offering advice for a circumstance that none of them have gone through. Human beings tend to believe they’re expects on every situation when it has nothing to do with their life and livelihood. There’s an arrogance within that. It often comes into play when life is good on their end. For that reason, they can happily assess your incompetence or shambles of a life, to figure out where not to go wrong in their own, and finally to offer you a charade of advice. It’s always from their perspective; what they would and wouldn’t do if they were in your shoes. It’s rare to have someone step outside of themselves and actually view what’s happening to you from your eyes; to feel the pain and severity of the situation and finally, to understand the hardship. I’ve flipped through those pages endlessly, reading every single piece of advice I decided that a mental note was enough for, and none of it soothes me or has prepared me for what I am facing today. It hasn’t aided in the much needed closure I don’t believe I’m ever going to get. Instead, I’ve been left internally conflicted and confused because I’m not sure if what I’m feeling is the correct way to go about this. I’d love to have the divorce party, where my friends and I cheerfully toss back endless amounts of alcohol, dance to our favorite tunes, and verbally trash every single trait about my husband. If not that, I’d love to sign those papers and walk out of there in my high heels feeling liberated and confident in the decision that I personally made for the betterment of myself. I’ve imagined it all by letting it play out like some heavily directed alternate universe scene out of a dramatic sitcom but my reality is anything but that.

I had a session with Dr. Jill yesterday evening and we discussed the stages of heartbreak that she swears by. Though she admitted there are different therapists and psychological doctors who will pan out anywhere between five and ten stages, she lives by the lucky number seven. We spent nearly three hours discussing these stages with no regard for her paid time or my much needed breath of fresh air from the intensity of her office. First, I’d been desperate for answers. Actually, I still am desperate for the necessary words or even excuses to fill in these holes that I have. The demise of my marriage has been a difficult puzzle to piece together on my own and the other party involved has been no help in bring it all to perspective. According to Andreas, it’s my fault. It’s the only way he’s made sense of our beginning, our middle, and finally, our destructive ending. I’ve yet to truly debate anyone about it; just myself. It’s a conversation that my mind has with itself when I first wake up in the morning and as I lay awake in bed at night tossing and turning with a dire hope to sleep, so the bitter thoughts will temporarily cease. The denial was strong; stronger than I needed it to be. Shane’s death heightened it. The stroke was my wake up call. I don’t know why, but when I hit the wooden floor of my parent’s entry hall clutching my head while my surroundings blackened, I knew right then and there that Andreas wasn’t returning to me. It wasn’t the arguments over the phone that ended in him angrily hanging up on me, my rants about the death of my sibling to guilt him about his neglect, or my deteriorating mental health. It took my mind and body suddenly feeling like I was on the brink of a young and sudden demise to understand we were irrevocably broken.

Bargaining? Oh I did plenty of that. Suggested marriage counseling? Check. Worked on myself? Check. Attempted to figure out what I wasn’t doing right? Check. Hell, I even worked on my appearance. I did my best to tackle every possibility there was to fix us and came up short. We haven’t relapsed. At one point, I wished we did. I desired for us to foolishly allow ourselves to toss our emotional sorrows aside and to get caught up into the physical aspect of our love, so we’d have no choice but to confront what tore us apart at some later point. He didn’t need my body anymore. Amber came into the picture to fill every physical void he was experiencing and seemingly has done a much better job than I ever could have. The anger I feel is beyond what woulds can ever express. It has taken me on this roller coaster ride of mental and physical responses to what’s happened. I scream, yell, cry, and blank out. I’ve punched a few things; knock over plenty of delicates. I’ve ripped pictures and even thrown the rings a couple of times. Dr. Jill has always told me that my anger is empowering because it is within those moments that I step outside of Andreas and realize that what I feel matters just as much. I stop worrying about what wasn’t right for him and acknowledge what hadn’t been right for me and all the hurt he’s inflicted upon me. It’s not victimizing. I don’t want to be a victim. It’s a reminder that I may actually deserve better and possibly more than I was given. Within the anger, somewhere in there, I’m telling myself the truth. I’ve come to accept this. I’ve surrendered. I’ve withheld this divorce for long enough and dragging it along is no longer beneficial for my emotions or childish thoughts of revenge. We’re not meant to be and though it’s taken quite some time for me to come to terms with that; I have. It’s painful to let my connection to my husband go but it’s far more painful to contain it with an idiotic hope that somehow it’ll all work itself out.

It’s over.

We’re over.

Love’s over.

Late last night, I was assured of my choice in a blush toned figure fitting pencil dress that I keep in the back of the closet for those days of necessary professionalism, but the high eighties Miami weather convinced me to leave it lying in my garment bag. Instead, I opted for a fairly new pair of acid washed, blue denim, cut off shorts I purchased from the California based revolutionized brand Runwaydreamz. The holes, rips, and frayed styled could easily scream hipster poser at Coachella, but with my elongated legs and caramel skin, they were a nice choice for the scenery of this beach front hotel. My choice of a top was an ode to my brother. Shane had a love for vintage t-shirts and created arguably the most ridiculous collection of them. He’d lay around his apartment using rags soaked in Clorox to bleach various parts of them and would use razors to intricately cut rips, holes, and fringe type of styles into the material. As his little sister and favorite muse, I reaped the benefits of either stealing them out of the closet that was specifically for them without a verbal lashing or he’d run around the city grabbing shirts for the both of us to create matching masterpieces that we’d go out in. He made this Motley Crue top about four years ago, here in Miami, after we spent the morning running around visiting numerous thrift shops. By that night, I was wearing his bleached, distressed, and slashed up creation while tossing back Jamaican rum and tooting my tail end up towards the ceiling as we danced to reggae, soca, and kompa classics at some little hole in the wall spot in Little Haiti. Now I’m wearing this top as an armor; a piece of him to cling to me and console me through what I wish he was here to hold my hand for. A mixture of tough and soft love; the soft often edged out the tough and he happily basked in his position as my earthly protector from all. Though it’s just threads of fabric, it’s a representation of the embodiment of him being threaded within me; within my soul. Knowing that should be enough to hold me up as I sit before two lawyers and my husband.

“Autumn, it’s mom.” She’s the only person who calls and announces her title and relationship just about every single time as if her name and number aren’t stored in my phone book or her position in my life hasn’t been engraved into my being for twenty six years. Occasionally it’s funny, but today, I am in no mood for my mother or her sometimes intentionally annoying antics.

“Hey.” I glanced between the black and white classic Converse All Stars and the Sophia Webster sandals resting on the bed and opted for the sandals. The black, pink, and orange cameo effect on the knotted cage shoes is a perfect pair with the shorts and vintage tee. Their vertiginous height would further enhance my legs.

“Where are you honey? Lauren and I landed about forty five minutes ago and we’ve checked into the hotel. We’re going to change and I figured we could catch an early brunch. Heather’s bridal shower isn’t until later on and we’re starving. What do think?”

“That sounds nice but I cannot join you. I’m extremely busy. You two go ahead and enjoy yourselves.”

“Surely you can take an hour of your time to spend it with your mother. I’m not negating your time consuming tasks but come on. I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks. I’d like to have a meal with my child.” I listened to her huff as a bit of guilt slithered through my frame. Between work and this divorce, she’s accurate about us seeing less of one another but this is what she wanted. I’ve been living in her home and under both she and my father’s care for about two years now. After my release from the hospital, I’ve been cooped up in my second floor bedroom, wallowing in depression and boredom, for far too long. Dr. Jill has been my only escape and I had nothing to say to the woman for quite some time. My mother’s been nudging and persuading me to pick up and move on with my life; to let Andreas go and become anew again. Now that I’m officially working towards that, she’s questioned my job, my whereabouts, and now, how I’m using my time. She’s arguably the most backwards person I know.

“I can’t. Maybe another time? Possibly tomorrow if you’ll still be in town.”

“You gave me the same excuse when you came home two days ago.”

“I had to get ready to travel down here. You cannot fault me for that. You’re not being fair.”

“Okay. I apologize. I just miss you that’s all. It’s what us moms do. I worry. I’ll let you go and I’ll see you at the shower. Okay?” The defeat in her tone heightened the guilt within me as I finished pulling up the zipper on my right foot sandal. They older I’ve become, the harder it is to censor myself and cater to her need to shower me with her endless affection and meddling. Maybe it’s not my age but rather my circumstances. Affection is just not what I need right now; it’s not what I want.

“Okay.”

“I love you honey. Lauren says hi.”

“I love you too. I’ll see you later on.”

I tossed my phone on the bed; leaving her to end the call and quickly headed in the bathroom to apply another coat of the gold shimmering and warm peach Yves Saint Laurent lip gloss I grabbed out of Sephora in the city just yesterday afternoon. I went on a last minute and extremely panicked shopping run for a dress appropriate enough for today’s festivities. I thought I’d be able to nab something out of my closet and be satisfied with that. There wasn’t anything that particularly grabbed my attention so Glen happily drove me from store to store until I found an entire ensemble for this afternoon. Sephora was my last stop. I needed to grab another bottle of my favorite Armani Luminous Silk Foundation. The additional lip glosses, tubes of lipstick, and mascara was just me spoiling myself for the hell of it and upgrading the mediocre make up collection I have in my parents home.

While heading in the direction of the suite’s door, I tossed the lip gloss in yet another bag I’ve taken out of my mother’s closet. This time it’s her pink vintage Chanel bag that I’m praying I return back to it’s original place on the wooden shelf before she can ever notice it’s missing. She’s given me permission to borrow whatever I like…unless it’s vintage. I’m sure to earn her infamous glare if she notices that it’s gone.

“Excuse me.” I stepped out of the elevator and picked up my pace as I neared the doors of the Mandarin’s entrance. I bid the doorman a proper thank you as I exited and immediately slid into the already opened back of the awaiting SUV. He’d been waiting for me for about twenty minutes now. I’d taken far more time than needed flat ironing my hair. I thought about it curling it but the Miami humidity would have ruined it as soon as I stepped out into it.

“I’m heading to two six six five South Bayshore Drive.” As the driver closed the driver’s side door behind himself, he glanced at me through the rear view mirror and nodded his head with a small smile.

“That’s about fifteen minutes away from here ma’am. Traffic is down. We should be there shortly.”

“Thank you.”

I was looking forward to him forewarning me about a bit of traffic or even abruptly running into a bit of it on the way there. I’ve stalled myself with the flat ironing and I needed yet another interruption to mentally prepare myself for what’s to come. I’ve rehearsed lines, coached myself into avoiding all possibilities of crying, and mentally beat myself down to a pulp so Andreas wouldn’t be able to do it to me. I’ve run down every possible emotionally insulting, dismissive, and unreasonable comment he could verbally slap me with and I meshed the tears in with the running water immersing from the stainless steel shower head as I cleansed myself. The last time I had a genuine meltdown over that man, I woke up with tubes all over the place and the reddened eyes and distraught expression of my mother’s beautiful face. I will not give him that power once more. More than anything, I will never do that to my mother again. I will never forget my father tensely describing how her piercing screams rang out throughout their entire home as she clutched my body in her arms and wailed to God for my life. She pleaded and offered him all, including her own life, in exchange for mine. My father described what seemed like a shell of himself as he watched the paramedics wheel me out of the house. Though I wish I could have seen it myself, he described a frantic Issac who used his boisterous voice and intimidating demeanor to nearly bully the hospital’s staff and two of it’s board members to make sure the best of the best were in charge of my care. Their promises didn’t stop him from calling friends and friends of friends who could reach out to some of the best neurologists in the country. Even when I was awake and just about completely alert, it didn’t stop him from walking the hall giving orders as if he were recently appointed the Chief of Staff. I don’t live for them but I do take their love into consideration. Enough is enough. I’ve exhausted all of them, including Heather, with this part of my life. I no longer have the will power within me to further it.

I thought of you when I woke up this morning and I’ve contemplated on whether I should send this or not for a couple of hours. My conscious won the battle. I wish you all the best today. Let me know if you’re okay later, please.

My fingers tapped along the screen of my phone and it was my turn to contemplate if I should say anything to him. My pain won the battle as I clicked the lock button and slid it back into my purse. Thoughts of Dante seized my brain as soon as I checked into the Mandarin yesterday. This has become my go to hotel whenever I’m in Miami since meeting him and I’m reminded of the time we spent together together watching the moonlight dance along the Biscayne Bay. Whenever I go to and from the entrance, I cannot refrain from flashing back to the evening he was standing there waiting for me. Because of the incredible time he showed me at Palmeiras, I’ve booked the beach club for Heather’s bachelorette party. We parted on somewhat of a confusing note after such a sublime time in Paris, but it was necessary to minimize any further assumptions or confusion we may form between one another or at least on my end of what has already crossed the line of professionalism. I miss him and that should be forbidden within itself. With every conversation and moments spent exploring some location in the world I’ve never experienced before, I bask in how cultured he is and it heightens my avidity to learn more from him. The glances into his penetrating almond shaped brown eyes and his overall striking countenance entices my body in manners that leave me mentally abashed. His mannerisms and demeanor reek of power, control, and a confidence in who he is that serves as a representation of his masculinity and leadership within his manhood. His allure nearly has me in a choke hold and my internal battle against it has resulted in nothing more than multiple loses.

Issac would not only fire me but he’d verbally rip me to shreds of nothingness if he picked up on even the slightest hint of Dante and I being anything beyond employer and employee. He’d then turn it into yet another example of me being an impulsive, irresponsible, and childish “rebel” and further feed into my family’s quiet thoughts about my lack of self control and responsibility. I’d be the subject of company gossip and never escape the unwavering scrutiny about the perks I am sure to be receiving in exchange for me possibly sleeping with one of the company’s wealthiest clients. Rachel would scold me for having followed in the footsteps that she warned me about. Lastly, I’d have to berate myself for treading into uncharted waters once more. To expect a different result this time would be absurdly foolish.

“Ma’am. Your destination is just one building down.” He interrupted my chain of thought as he pointed towards the window and I nodded my head as I secured my bag over my shoulder.

“You don’t have to get out. I got it. Thank you.”

The warm air was the perfect contrast to the chills running down my spine as I neared the front entrance. Upon my entry, the cool central air blew at me with an unexpected force as soon as I stopped at the wall directory to search for the appointed floor of suite twelve zero four. The elevator ride up was filled with the churning of my stomach and the spinach omelette I forced myself to eat for breakfast began to reappear at the very end of my esophagus. I could barely subside the contents from threatening to completely come up into my mouth. As the ride came to an end and the metal doors slowly pulled themselves apart, my feet began to drag themselves down the hall. The sound of my heels scraping the marble caused a faint ringing in my ears. I could only wonder if my purposeful lagging aggravated the receptionist who leaned over her desk to find the source of the noise. The smile on her face caught my attention but her greeting never registered. As my eyes landed on the woman comfortably waiting in a leather black lounge chair, my stomach suddenly dropped to the heels of my feet and my throat tensed until it was tight enough to bring me to the brink of suffocation.

The future Mrs. Andreas Scott Harrington sat back in her seat staring at the double doors of the conference room with a visible expression of incertitude. As her fingers danced along her extremely protruded belly, a soft sigh slipped past her lips and finally, she turned to find me within her presence. She froze, as her glistening skin suddenly flushed into a hue of pink and her brown eyes widened in unison with her mouth falling agape. My expression remained blank as I glared at a small piece of the puzzle that is my pain. Beyond Andreas’ actions, I’m disappointed in her as a woman. It’s her stubbornness and willful blindness about her participating in the demise of my marriage that urges me to slap the shit out of her on my worse days and leaves me shaking my head on my calm ones. I cannot fathom how she isn’t capable of hypothetically putting herself into my shoes and fearing that she too will be on the other side of this happy life she believes she’s created with him one of these days. Does she believe that the universe and the way this world turns will always work out in her favor? Will their recklessness have no consequence? The bliss clearly isn’t forever; or maybe that’s just my story.

“Mrs. Harrington you’re right on time. Everything is all set up in the conference room. Mr. Harrington arrived just a few minutes ago.” I nearly choked at the sound of my marital name and the grimace on Amber’s face sparked my own. Suddenly I felt like nothing more than a forgotten about possession on Andreas’ memorabilia shelf in his office within our home. We both belong to him. The man has his wife and pregnant mistress within the presence of one another as he sits in a conference room anticipating himself finishing off the shattering of one of our hearts. Though I didn’t expect to see Amber lingering around awaiting this entire process to be over, I am not surprised that she made the decision to attend. What intrigues me about this woman’s presence is her lack of glee. There’s a tension radiating from her dainty frame that wasn’t so apparent when we crossed paths in my kitchen. The confidence has receded and the questioning look her eyes holds a tale that I have no interest in knowing.

“Thank you.” I bid the tiny woman a small smile as I walked ahead and for the first time, I didn’t hesitate. I entered the conference room and closed the door behind myself; ending Amber’s determination to burn a blazing hole into my back.

“Ah. She finally arrives.” I glanced over at Sorrell Trope who held a smirk on his face that I wasn’t expecting to see. He’d been very displeased with my method of handling this divorce ever since our first meeting with one another and I only furthered his aggravation and disappointment whenever he’d plan out new strategies to make sure I left my marriage with a bank account filled with Andreas’ earnings.

“Hello.” I couldn’t force a smile or even muster up the strength to wave at any of them as Mr. Trope pulled out a seat for me on his side of the table. The set of eyes that I’d fallen head over heels in love with were observing my every move as I sat deliberately across from him. My internal challenge to avoid making eye contact with him already failed twice and I’ve only been in the room for less than a minute. He made it no easier by never breaking his gaze and nearly placing his hands towards the tips of my fingers as they rested on the table. The four stacks of papers and the two personalized pens to the right of the table caught my attention as a breath of air slowly flowed past my lips. They’d need my signature about a million times before this would be all over with.

“Hello Autumn. We haven’t met in person but I’m Raymond Rafool, Andreas’ lawyer. I’ve been in constant communication with Mr. Trope about the proceedings and the negotiating between both you and Andreas. You two opted out of continuing to go to the mediating sessions and there were no court appointed sessions that were legally required to attempt to move both you and Andreas towards a final resolution on the issues that stand between the two of you. There were no marriage counselors involved and if there were, they have no standing in this proceeding or any ones prior to this final step. There are no children involved so custody, visitation, or child support is not relevant to this proceeding or the settlement involved. In going back and forth between you two, there have been no issues in which you two absolutely cannot come to an agreement with one another on so there is no need for a trial. Honestly, that’s a good thing, because not only does that prolong this process but it is also costly and the results are less predictable depending upon what the circumstances of both parties are. Mr. Rafool have drawn up the legal paper work necessary to dissolve your marriage and we’ve both carefully looked over each document to assure that everything is absolutely the way you’ve requested.” His words were going into one ear and directly out of the other as I twirled my thumbs around one another endlessly and stared at the window directly behind Andreas. The blind shield my eyes from the world but I took it upon myself to imagine what was happening outside. Thoughts of half naked women cheerily skipping or skating down the sidewalk while immersed into lighthearted conversations about their activities about the night before and young men childishly howling in the direction while walking along in their summer garb; a few with surfboard strapped to their backs; was far more interesting to think about than this.

“Autumn.”

“What?” The harshness in my voice nearly startled me just as much as it did everyone in the room as I gave Andreas the attention he called for. In his usual fashion, he widened his ocean blue eyes at me and slightly shook his head in disdain for me answering him in such a manner. He always hated for me to snap at him or raise my voice though he often did it with me. Our shouting matches often became a competition for the two of us with me working my hardest to win. There were days I’d challenge myself to see just how quickly I could get him to walk away from me or walk out of our home in anger. I had to find the fun in my misery.

“Did you hear what Mr. Trope said?” I hadn’t even noticed he’d slid one of the stacks of paper in the middle of the table and he’d placed a pen in front of both and Andreas and I.

“Autumn. I know what we spoke about many times over our phone conferences and while I do understand how assured you are in your position, Andreas brought a second possibility to the table that he’d like to discuss with you. Well, we all will discuss it. You don’t have to agree to it. It is your legal right to refuse. Mr. Rafool handled every single detail precisely and I spent the last couple of days going over every single detail to make sure it is proper and fair.”

“What the hell did you do?” I turned to look at my husband again. I can’t stand to do another month, week, or even a day of this nonsense. I refuse to. I no longer have the will power to mentally prepare myself for every blow this gut wrenching process forcibly takes on my mind and heart.

“I want to give you twenty million dollars.” He leaned forward, with his elbows resting on the table, and he glared into my eyes in that all too convincing look he’d give me whenever he was either offering me false hope about something I wanted from him, bidding me a promise that he knew he’d break without ever considering it, and lastly convincing me to consider or do something that worked out in his favor far more than it did in mine. With his seniority in age, education, professionalism, and finance, he would always operate in a manner that reeked of him believing that he knew what was best for me without him ever verbally saying so. Initially, I didn’t bite back. I enjoyed having a man taking the lead and making sure I was in a good position without me ever having to request it but it also became my enslavement to his mind and deceptive behaviors.

“Twenty million dollars? You’ve gone from twelve to twenty? Seriously?” I laughed out loud as his jaw tightened. He tosses around these estimates and prices to buy me out of this situation with no regard for what all of this actually means. I’ve heard the commentary from media personalities. I’ve read around about the large sums divorcees have gotten from their significant others and I’ve seen the lavish lifestyles that they’ve living but I can only wonder if that clears their conscious of all of the hurt and anger that had to happen in order for them to attain it. Is that what it all comes to? Is that supposed to be redemption for all the damage on his end? “No.”

“No? What do you mean no? You’re being senseless and you’ve been behaving that way since we began this process.” He knocked his knuckles on the table hard enough to draw three sets of eyes on him and I aloofly sat back in the chair with a shrug of my shoulders in response to what is most likely going to turn into a verbal attack on my intelligence, character, and personality.

“I don’t want your money. What part of that don’t you understand? You had me sign a prenuptial agreement because your obsessive and controlling mother dropped numerous hints into your ear about it and I did so without a fight. I didn’t question it. I even did so without a lawyer which is damn near illegal. I wasn’t thinking about your money before I signed it, when I signed it, and I’m certainly not thinking about it now. Keep it Andreas. You’ve earned it. It’s yours. It’ll be far more beneficial to you than it is to me. You don’t have to pay your way out of this. I’d just like to sign these papers and go. Let’s do what we originally came here for. Fuck all of these extra negotiations. This is a divorce. It’s not a business deal.” As he stood to his feet, his lawyer oddly stood along with him and he bewilderingly stared at Andreas as he walked around to my side of the table and pointed at the double doors.

“Can we have the room please?”

“What?” Mr. Trope questioned him in confusion and Andreas continue to point at the door.

“Can you two step outside. I’d like to speak with my wife in private.” My eyes widened and a sarcastic chuckle followed as the word “wife” echoed in my mind repeatedly. I haven’t heard him use that possessive term in quite some time and if I’m lucky, I’ll never have to hear him or anyone else ever use that word in reference to me again once I exit this building today. I failed at that position. I didn’t live up to the standard of what it means to be a wife and he never gave me the chance to redeem myself. At this point, I don’t even know what it means to be a wife nor do I ever want to know. I don’t ever want to be here, in this position again.

“Okay. Raymond, let’s give them some privacy. We’ll be right outside.”

As the door closed behind the two older men, I hoped Andreas would return to his seat but instead he stood, towering over my frame and roughly breathing over me as if we’d already been fighting for fifteen to twenty minutes like we usually do. Before we could make it past a longer time frame than that, he would have already locked himself in his den or grabbed his car keys and left out for a couple of hours; sometimes even for the rest of the day or night. I’ve spent more nights alone in our bed than I’ve spent cuddling with him because of the team being on the road, him traveling for business, or our feuds. I grew so accustomed to him not being in the bed to the point of it sometimes being uncomfortable when he was along side me. As the distance continued to grow between us and within our marriage, I found myself sleeping on the edge of the bed whenever he’d join me. Though our king size bed was sizable enough to keep a decent extent of space between our bodies, he had the tendency to roll into the middle of the bed and just about on my side, so being on the edge kept me away from him. I don’t sleep in the bed with anyone at all now and yet I still sleep on the very edge because of my habits with him.

“Getting me alone isn’t going to help you convince me to take that settlement. You constantly talk about how stubborn I am but here you are not taking no for an answer. Now who’s the stubborn one?” I purposefully pushed my chair back to garner some space between he and I. As he backed away, I quickly stood up and stepped away from the table.

“Because I want to help you.”

 “Bullshit. You want your conscious clear. That’s really what this is all about. You want to be able to walk out here knowing that you made sure I was alright, so you can move on with your life without guilt tripping over everything that happened to get us to this point. I wasn’t perfect but we’re not going to stand here and play like the blame balances out. Your part in this is far bigger than mine. You think that you can pay me to make this right?” With a sigh, he ran his hand down his face and shook his head in clear frustration. He couldn’t possibly feel any more frustrated than I do.

“This isn’t about me. This is about you. You have to start over and get back on your feet and you cannot do that with nothing. You’re currently residing with your parents. Don’t you want to be able to move out? Do you have a car in New Jersey because if I remember correctly, you don’t. You’re going to have bills to pay. You want to go back to school. Universities aren’t free. Graduate degrees aren’t free. You need the basic necessities and so much more beyond that. Instead of being stubborn, do this for yourself. Do this for the sake of your own happiness.”

“So that you can know and say that you’re responsible for it? This isn’t about me, it’s because you. I don’t care how you try to map this out. If I walk away with that settlement, literally anything that I do you will accredit to yourself and I don’t want that. I want to be able to say and know that I earned it, whether I have to struggle and bust my ass to be able to have it. I don’t want your charity Andreas.” As he took steps towards me, I took more than enough steps backward to leave me nearly on the opposite side of the room. The frown on his face was harsher than my own.

“You’ve been married to me for six years. When the hell have I become that arrogant? I have never thrown anything back in your face. Are you kidding me?”

“You didn’t have to say it. It was your actions. How don’t you understand that? Your demeanor said it all. I am beneath you. You have done and accomplished far more than I ever have. You are the bread winner. I was in a position of dependency which allowed you to damn near run all over me whenever you saw fit to do so. I had to stay in my place on so many decisions that you made for the both of us because I was merely your stay at home wife. That’s not arrogance. It’s control. You had all of the control and I’m not going to allow you to control my subconscious by doing this. I’m tired Andreas. I have fought for you, I have fought for our marriage, and I’ve fought to save myself in the midst of all it and I’m mentally exhausted. I reached the point of physical exhaustion and had a stroke. Stop fighting me. I don’t want to fight you anymore. I’ve given you so much of myself and now I’m giving you one final request. Give me something. Let me walk away with a peace of mind.”

“You don’t feel like I’ve given you anything in these past six years? Nothing?” For the first time in the past couple of years, I saw a glimpse of the kind hearted man I fell in love with during the final teen year of my life. Those beautiful eyes softened, the hardened expression on his face dissipated, and the undeniable charm that I immediately latched myself to on the evening we shared our first cup of coffee together in our favorite little cafe swarmed me and thickened the tension radiating between our souls.

“Lessons. I learned so many in these past six years. Our glory days were beautiful. It’s almost laughable to look back on that timeframe and then to fast forward to where we are now. It’s unbelievable but I should have known better. The signs were there. You didn’t want this. Your hesitance, questions, and fears were all there and I tuned it out; you did too. All of this isn’t on you. As I said, I have my part in it. I became so addicted to you and the love. I couldn’t slow down, turn back, or let it go. I believed you’d continue to give me a never-ending emotional high until the end of my days and I should have never given you that much responsibility. I put too much on you. I pressured you. You just didn’t put a stop to it. You saw all of this coming from the very beginning and you didn’t stop it. Our relationship turned into this speeding train and we finally crashed; leaving fatal damage. I learned a lot about myself. I have some growing up to do; certainly. I don’t have it all together and I need to work on myself for a while. I have quite a bit to figure out. You took care of me. I cannot deny that. I was housed, fed, clothed, and I had the finances necessary for leisurely fun but I don’t think you considered me to be your wife, Andreas. I was a responsibility; a bill. I don’t want to become a twenty million dollar bill. Take the money and put it into a trust fund for your unborn child. Just let this go. Please.”

Silence fell between the two of us as we solemnly stared into one another’s eyes. The minimal strength I’d mustered up earlier gradually began to unravel as my eyes began to ache and fail the battle. The stinging followed with a flush of salty water and the stream began to flow down my face with no sign of halting. A knot formed in my throat at the sight of the sea of blue suddenly being surrounding by a hue of red. As weakness entrapped him, he suddenly glanced away and gave me his back to see. His head seeped lower with eyes panning to the floor and his confidence faded into the abyss.

Without a second of hesitation, I opened the door and signaled for our counsel to return to the room. There was nothing more either one of us needed to say to one that mattered, would change our fate, or would heal the gaping scars we’ve left on one another over the years.

Our fate is sealed.

“We’ve chosen to go with what we originally settled on.” Andreas made the announcement of our final choice as I pulled a piece of tissue out of the box to the left of me and dappled the corners of my eyes. It became a pointless task as my abdomen tightened and another set of parting tears rapidly cascaded down my face.

“Okay. We’ve placed a sticker that says sign here next to every single place that needs your signature. Once you’ve placed your signature on all of the documents, you’re done here.”

My fingers reached for the maroon pen as Mr. Trope slid the packet directly in front of me and I spent just a couple of seconds staring at the first page of our ending before I began to sign page after page until I finally reached the very end. In one final step, I slipped my hand into the silk pocket inside of the Chanel bag and retrieved the two rings I donned on my left hand ring finger the past six years and carefully placed them on top of the packet before sliding it in his direction.

His eyes set on the rings and finally, on me. He then slightly nodded his head as I stood up and used the back of my legs to push the chair away. He opened his mouth to speak but his words remained stuck in his throat while I placed the strap of the bag over my shoulder.

“Goodbye Andreas.”

Those were the final words I said to my ex-husband as I exited the room and his life.

“All of the gifts go right over there on that corner table with the lavender lace.”

My eyes panned over the sea of pastels covering just about the entirety of the villas backyard space and I nodded my head in content of what Janice and I had done to appease Heather on one of her many special days. Though she slyly scolded me every now and then for slacking on my maid of honor duties, little did she know, her mother and I had been going back forth over multiple phone calls, text messages, and e-mails to get this bridal shower together in a timely manner. We already had the color scheme figured out. Heather is by far the most feminine woman I know. She basks in whimsical shades and gleams at all things dainty. What we couldn’t agree upon for a few weeks was the theme. We bounced around from website to website picking apart what has been done before and eventually settled on one of her favorite pastimes as a child: a tea party. The vintage materials and pastels as well as the outdoor setting were my ideas. We envision lacy umbrellas, tons of garland, glitter, personalized desserts and tea bags, tulle table skirts and pastel tissue tassels. Though she’ll tell you it’s cliche, her favorite flower is the rose so we made sure one of the best florists in Miami collaborated with the decorating team to cover every single area of the dreamy garden in peach, yellow, salmon, cream, lavender, and pink roses. The two murals of her childhood to adulthood and of her engagement photos were her mother’s added touch and mine was a table specifically dedicated to cosmetics since that’s her field of work. Whatever touches the guests needed to do to their make up before stepping inside of the photo tent would be at their disposal and if they arrived barefaced, the table would serve as tons of fun. There’s a candy bar, an actual bar for alcoholic and non-alcoholic cocktails, and a station filled with many desserts; my favorite being the cake pops shaped like teapots. We weren’t absolutely sure if we’d be able to pull this off flawlessly but I must say, we’ve been proven wrong. Heather’s been squealing and waltzing around since the event started.

“You look amazing Autumn. I love what you’re wearing. Also, long time no see.” Adrienne wrapped her tiny arms around my waist and I politely pulled her in for a hug. It has been quite some time since I’ve seen her. Usually we’d greet one another at the home games and share a small conversation before heading to our seats. Andreas and I also attended she and Chris’ wedding. At this point, she’s more of Heather’s friend than mine. I never mingled with the wives of the players much but now that she’s becoming one of them, she might as well form a few friendships.

“Thank you and yes, it has been a while. How are Chris and the children?”

“All is well. The kids are sprouting non-stop and don’t get me started on those little personalities. Trinity is five, Jackson is two, and Dylan just turned one.”

“Wow. Trinity is officially in school now.”

“Yes. She’s in the kindergarten and is loving it. How’s everything been with you?”

“All is well.” That’s the only response I could muster up while I silently prayed that she didn’t make this extremely awkward by treading into my personal life. The last person I want to speak about is my ex. You don’t have to hear it from me to be familiar with the story. The details of my divorce settlement are already circulating around the internet and the ink hasn’t even dried on the papers yet.

“Good. I’m glad to hear that. You make sure you keep in touch. You have my number. Whenever you’re in town, lets grab a bite to eat or head out to shop a bit.”

“Will do.” I most likely won’t. Actually, I know I won’t.

“And save that dress for me.” I nodded as we shared a small laugh over my choice of attire. The nude and mahogany Zimmerman dress wasn’t exactly the look I had in mind for this bridal shower but it was the perfect shade of nude to blend in decently with the pastels and most of all, it was cut and created in a manner to be cool enough for the Miami weather. I favor the Christian Louboutin pumps and all of their intricate laser detailing far more. If anything, they’re the stand out piece.

“I’ll do that too. It was great seeing you Adrienne.”

As I jealously eyed the open bar, I took yet another sip of the passion fruit flavored tea I’d been holding in my hand while silently wishing it would give me the side effects of loud giggles, overly done touchiness, and carefree vibes as the alcohol is already doing to the guests. Instead, I’m left with dry mouth; a side effect of the Lipitor I’d taken before I left the hotel. They can care less about the puffed pastries, the strawberry and cream tea sandwiches, the prosciutto crostini with fennel slaw, or the smoked salmon and egg canapés. They’ve been drinking and mingling since their arrivals while showering Heather with alcohol influenced marital advice; most of it being about sex. I even overheard Lauren spilling a bit of gossip about she and Issac’s spicy bedroom life, which nearly left me regurgitating the mixture of salmon, mayonnaise, and herbs. I internally cringed and nearly felt like an adolescent as all the women, including Janice and my ever classy mother, chimed in on intimacy and I took a vow a silence while the yard full of married women bestowed their expertise on Heather. Despite the topic, I’m pleased that she’s having this moment to speak with women who’ve gained more than enough experience to be offering sound advice. I didn’t have that and honestly, I didn’t want it. I dived in head first, believing that I’d figure it out along the way and didn’t need the support or guidance from anyone. I was fooled.

“I sent your father a photo I snuck of you today and he said that you remind him so much of myself when I was around your age. I think so too but you’re just so much more stronger and beautiful.” As she sat along side me, she ran her long fingers through my hair and planted a kiss on my cheek. The glow on her face matched the nude pencil dress she chosen to wear for the afternoon; most likely designed by Victoria Beckham. Our matching wasn’t intentional nor was it surprising. We tend to think alike in the fashion department from time to time. I learned all of what I know from she and Shane.

“He always says that.”

“He does. He knew that you’d be somewhat of another version of myself when I found out I was pregnant with you. I didn’t think I’d ever have a daughter but a blessing came when I least expected it. My little girl.” Another kiss followed her response and I withheld the sigh I so badly wanted to let out. I love her dearly, but the affection isn’t helping. If anything, the hugs and kisses from these guests and my tender mother were breaking me down. I’ve been swallowing knots in my throat, quickly patting my eyes dry, and forcing smiles on my face since I walked out of that lawyers office and the difficulty to keep myself together is worsening.

“Hm.”

A few seconds of silence fell between us as she buried herself into her thoughts and suddenly she solemnly leaned her body toward mine.

“Autumn.”

“Mom, please don’t. Please.” I’ve omitted a lot from her, including my coming down her to finalize my divorce. I left her with the truth that I needed to be here for the preparations of this bridal shower but withheld everything else. I got myself into this alone and I didn’t want to hold anyone’s hand as I got myself out of it. She’s helped me more than enough and I love and cherish her for it. There is nothing she could have done for me earlier today nor did she need to be there to face him or my struggle.

“Okay.”

I left her at the table before she could press the issue again and to distract myself from my inner most thoughts, I began the Bridal Pictionary game Janice and I planned out. We split the guests into the two teams, with myself being on Heather’s and Janice being apart of the opposing one and we nominated one person from each team to be the designated artist. From a bowl, we pulled out phrases related to weddings and spent sixty seconds guessing for each turn. Our team took the lead until a tipsy Heather couldn’t figure out what was supposed to be a picture of her jumping the broom. Luckily, we won the Bridal Shower Bingo. The gift opening portion of the afternoon may have been the best part. To watch the bashful expressions on Heather’s face with each piece of sexy and provocative lingerie she held up for us to see was my highlight. Though I enjoyed watching her nearly fall out of her chair at the sight her most desired Tiffany holiday china my mother and I purchased as a joint gift, it was her facial expression when she held up the flimsy pink Agent Provocateur playsuit and the rose gold pasties I’d gotten to go with it. It was by far the worst of all of the sexy attire she’d been gifted and I took pride in that. It was payback for all of the moments she’s made me uncomfortable around some guys or said something extremely outlandish in front of my mother or brothers.

“So, I want to hug and kiss you and kick your ass all at once. All of this was so incredible. I can’t believe I ever slightly doubted you. You always come through for me. A tea party? Yeah, you’re my soulmate for sure.” Heather wrapped her arms around my waist and tightly hugged my frame from the side as she buried her face into the side of mine.

“I forgot to tell people everyone to wear those ugly hats that the white women wear at their tea parties but overall, I think it all came together well. I’m glad you enjoyed it. I can tell. Your breath reeks of vodka and cake.”

“I wish you had some vodka in your system for the bomb I’m about to drop on you.” As I turned to look at her, she grimaced in preparation for whatever annoying or bad news she had to give me. She’s never been great with bearing bad news. In most cases, she’ll avoid it until she cannot do it anymore and this is most likely yet another one of her cases of doing so.

“Mario invited Andreas to the wedding and you know that the RSVP comes with the option of a plus one, so of course he’s bringing Amber.” I can only imagine the whispers and stares when we’re all in the same room of two hundred guests, who are all familiar with our story whether it’s because they personally know both he and I or because they kept up with it via some credible gossip blog or sports site. I’m going to have to become an actress; outshining the likes of Viola Davis in her craft the entire night while also doing my best to keep my grudge holding mother from verbally lashing him until he combusts into a pillar of dust. We’ll avoid one another of course, or maybe he’ll purposefully greet me and pretend like we’re friendly despite our bitter parting. Either way, though I expected this to happen, I didn’t want or need her to confirm it.

“I figured. That’s his coach. Why wouldn’t he invite him?”

“You’ll be okay?”

“Sure.” No, I won’t, but it’s not my wedding. It’s Heather and Mario’s day and I’m willing to compromise just about anything for her wedding to be perfect. I love her enough for that.

“Oh and one more thing.” I finally let out that sigh I withheld at the table as I sat with my mother and she gave me a reassuring squeeze to let me know that this wouldn’t be as bad as the first.

“Please don’t tell me that he’s the best man.”

“No. He’s not. I was going to tell you that I changed your dress. I didn’t like the other as much, so I got you another one. You’re going to love it.”

“Heather.”

“Oh shut up. You hated the bow on the other dress anyway. This new one is sexy. It’s Elie Saab and it falls right in line with the different shades of pink concept that I wanted for my bridesmaids and maid of honor. Wait until you see it. Actually, why don’t you come and spend the night with me at the house tonight so that you can try the dress on. I’ll have Mario pick up Chinese from that place we love so much when we’re drunk, we’ll actually get drunk, and I’m thinking movies. We’ll do our favorites.”

“We’ll see.”

“Hey! It’s my day and if I want to have a slumber party, then you have to agree to it.” I thought about it for a couple of seconds and eventually nodded my head. She’s somewhat correct.

As quickly as she planted a kiss on my cheek is as quickly as she squealed and ran in the direction of her final surprise of the afternoon; Mario. We invited him to come at the very end of the bridal shower to brighten her day even more while also giving commentary of thanks to both he and Heather’s family and friends for coming out to celebrate their up and coming nuptials. As I looked on at the two, the idea was a brilliant one. The love radiating between the two as they stand wrapped up into one another’s arms and sharing kisses like they’re the only ones in the room is good enough proof that all of this is deserved and worth it. Most would say it’s too soon to tell but those two are going to go the long haul. They’re going to be just as in love when they’re old and grey with children and tons of grandchildren keeping them busy. She deserves this, they both do, but I’ve been on her comical, bumpy, and sometimes stubborn journey to find this kind of love and it’s finally proven to be worth it. A part of me feels like I’m losing her but overall I’m excited to see what comes of this. I’m looking forward to becoming a God mother.

Autumn, are you okay?

As I retrieved my clutch bag from the table, I thought about an answer to Dante’s question as it remained in my inbox unanswered and the trembling of my hands answered for me. Early today, I quickly signed those papers and left out of there because I couldn’t bare to watch him walk away from me again but it didn’t make much of a difference like I thought it would. He’d already done that early on. I thought celebrating Heather would temporarily cease all thoughts of him but being surrounding by everything that represents love and unity only served as a continuous kicks in the back and vicious slaps to my face. Not even the medication is helping this.

“Hey. Are you okay?” Lauren grabbed my shoulder and stepped close enough to close the gab in between us. As she used her hand to gently caress me, I stared at my sister-in-law who I’ve refused to connect with in a manner that neither one of us expected. For the first time ever, I appreciated her.

“Yeah.” She could sense the lie but she didn’t push it. Instead, she nodded her head and finally stepped back.

“Tell my mom I’ll see her later. I’m heading out.”

“Back to the hotel?”

“Yeah. I didn’t sleep much last night and I’ve been up since early this morning. I’m tired.”

“Can I check on you later? Or I can just send your mom if you want.” The hesitance in her tone softened my approach with her yet again.

“Sure.”

“Me?” Her eyes widened as she pointed at herself and I gave her a head nod to reassure what I meant.

“Yeah, sure.”

If I’m going to change, I have to change my approach overall and I’ve taken the wrong steps with Lauren. She’s never done anything wrong to me and yet I’ve sort of used her as an outlet for my unresolved issues with Issac and the ones beyond him. I’m not sure how severely I’ve hurt her or if even hurt her at all but I won’t do it again. She’s family and I need to treat her as such.

While sitting in the back of the chauffeured SUV, I began another session of patting and wiping at the corners of my eyes. This time I wasn’t working hard to preserve my make up. I finally let the tears ago. Now, I just want to keep the stains of mascara off of my dress.

No.

I gave him the honesty that I’ve yet to falter on thus far.

I figured that you wouldn’t be. No one is okay after something like that. Are you still at Heather’s bridal shower?

As the rays of the sun began to slowly disappear into the sky, I glanced out at the beauty of the sunset and did my best to bask in it’s serene nature.

No. It’s over with. I’m heading back to the Mandarin.

Somehow, I could picture him sitting back in his posh office, clothed in a Tom Ford three piece suit, while glancing out of his large windows at the unparalleled New York City skyline. The visual eclipsed the sunset. The sense of tranquillity that rushes through me whenever we’re in one another’s presence or connecting through some means of communication is by far the most confusing and yet addicting feeling I’m currently facing. I barely know this man and yet I’ve already fooled myself into believing that it doesn’t matter.

You want to talk about it?

Well of course you don’t want to talk about it. You probably don’t even want to think about it even though you can’t help but to do so. We always wish the hardest parts of our lives could just erase themselves from our mind once we’re in the midst of the aftermath but it never works out that way.

He’s accurate.

Wishes don’t always come true.

I learned that the hard way.

They don’t because wishes are desires without an attempt. You’re going to be okay. Soon enough, you’ll believe that and knowing you and how much of an intelligent, strong, and hard working person you are, you’ll began to work on actually attaining what you wish for. For now, stop going through this alone and lean on someone. You need that.

I paused and reread all of his words of encouragement, including his accuracy towards the very end.

What makes you so sure that I’m going through this alone?

I never mentioned or even alluded to that when speaking with him.

Because you shut me out. I’m sure I’m not the only one.

I glanced up as the SUV came to a halt. We ran into the traffic that I was wishing for earlier. The city failed me.

I apologize. I just had to get my mind right. You understand that, right?

I’m sure he does. He rubs me as the type of person to do the same thing whenever he needs to figure things out.

I do. There’s no need to apologize. I’m not holding that against you. You can’t get through this on your own and you don’t have to. Start opening up about this beyond Dr. Jill. Everyone may not experience the same hardships but we’re human so we do have the capability of understanding.

This man has become my own personal Buddha or motivational book. Like Shane, he always has a logical answer to everything. I don’t know how he does it.

Lately I’ve been around you far more than anyone else. I think my mother’s slightly jealous and she doesn’t even know you.

I know she’s scolded Issac for giving me that job. She won’t say that she hates it but I know she does.

You want to take some time off?

Absolutely not. I can’t bare sitting up in my bedroom anymore. I’ll go insane.

No.

I kicked off my pumps for comfort and tossed both of my legs up on the backseat. Suddenly, the traffic didn’t matter.

Well, my shoulder’s ready then. I play basketball a lot but I suck at working out so it’s kind of soft. You can talk my ear off, cry, slob, sneeze or whatever else. Now snot is gross but you get one pass for that. Just one.

For the time time today, I let out the most genuine and loudest laugh I could muster up. I don’t think I’ve ever slob, sneezed, or blew snot on anyone but the thought of embarrassing myself by doing it to him tickled me.

I don’t slob or drool. I’m not snotty either. No need to worry about that.

As I imagined doing it, I giggled even more. I’d never.

Well then the shoulder’s yours.

I smiled. I know I’ll cry again today, tomorrow, and for some time to come but it feels so good to just freely smile right now.

Thanks for letting me rent your shoulder.

Now I can see him walking around his office as he texts me, effortlessly turning his charm into words as he types away on his iPhone’s screen. His blazer is most likely resting on the back of his chair and his broad shoulders are standing tall.

Rent? No take backs. It’s yours to lean on whenever you need to. So I guess that means you own it.

My head fell against the window as I read that text three times, prompting the driver to glance back at me through the rear view mirror. He’d officially thrown me off course; off track. Whatever you want to call it.

Okay, well thanks for letting me have your shoulder.

I’m not sure if I’ll actually lean on it, but it’s nice to have the offer extended and it be genuine. He’s a great person and he continues to prove that time and time again despite our differences.

You’re welcome. I’m here if you want to talk. I’m here if you don’t want to do that as well. Alright?

I nodded my head as the thoughts of Dante in his office slowly vanished. I returned my attention to the horizon, allowing the last of the faint rays to illuminate my face before the faintly twinkling stars took over the skyline. Peace surrounded me and suddenly my shoulders didn’t feel as heavy. The weight of my burdens temporarily subsided.

Alright.

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