The Last Exhale Part 33

I step forward, gently place my hands on her face.

She puts her hands on top of mine and steps forward until our lips touch.

63.

SYDNEY.

"You know you've made my life h.e.l.l, right?"

"Stand in line."

"I'm here now."

The woman I once considered my best friend stands in front of me with no intention of stepping down anytime soon. I'll stand here with her all night if I have to. "Rachel, you need to take this up with your husband. Michael was the one driving the car."

"You just had to do it, huh? Just had to cross the line."

I was wrong. I won't stand out here all night and defend my actions. I chirp the alarm to my car, reach for the door. Rachel shoves her body in front of the handle, makes it hard for me to go anywhere. "Really now?"

She folds her arms across her chest. "Why'd you do it?"

I toss my portfolio and purse on top of the car. Since she's determined to get in my business, I do the same to her. "Why did you?"

"This isn't about me right now, but since you want to know. It's as I told you. I cheated on Michael long before we got married."

"Cheating is cheating."

"Gosh, Sydney." She pushes herself off my car, leans on hers. "Don't you see you've messed up my life?"

I feel myself on the verge of being belligerent right along with her, but I'm in front of my office. This wasn't the time or place for a confrontation. She's here now, said what she's had to say. I lower my voice hoping she'll follow suit. "How was I supposed to know? I've tried to reach out to you. You won't return my calls, you won't reply to my texts. I don't know what you don't tell me."

She runs a hand through her blonde hair, holds a lock at the tips. Picks at split ends, then folds her arms back across her chest. Her voice now a whisper.

I strain to hear, so I move closer to her. Lean against her car next to her.

"We were so happy when we found out. Now I just don't know."

I'm lost. "What did you find out?"

"Michael's termination sent him over the edge, he's started drinking. He's out late at night at these random bars, keeping company with random people. He's a different man. He comes home drunk, throws stuff all around the house."

Though I don't feel like any of Michael's misfortunes or the amount of beers he has at night has anything to do with me, I tell her I'm sorry anyway. Apologize to her, because that's what friends do when the other is hurting.

Her eyes meet mine briefly. "How am I supposed to raise a baby around that kind of behavior."

"Hold up. You're pregnant?"

"Michael was so happy when he found my positive pregnancy test hidden in his lunch box. He ran around the station holding it in his hand. Eric videotaped it with his cell phone, sent it to Michael. He sent it to me. I cried when I saw it." Her eyes well up as she reminisces.

"When was this?"

Her hand grazes her still-flat belly. "A couple of months ago. I'm ten weeks."

"Eric never told me."

"He probably forgot. It was the same week they lost Bragg. I'm sure it wasn't intentional."

I try not to let my hurt show. She's my best friend, at least she used to be. Outside of her husband, I thought I would've been one of the first ones to know. "Why didn't you?"

Her mood changes, she loses the joy in her voice. "Don't make this about you."

"I'm not. I'm just surprised you hadn't told Katrina or me."

"She knew."

Okay. Seems like everybody knows everything but me. Was I so distracted with whatever was going on with Brandon and me that I wasn't paying attention to what was going on around me?

"Here's something else I bet you didn't know. Kat went back to her ex-husband."

"Why on earth would she do that?"

"Because of you."

"Wait, now. I may be to blame for a few things, but that, I will not take credit for."

"Well, it's the truth. She said he may have trouble being faithful, but he's a good father. Her son needs him on a consistent basis. She knows him, is used to him. Bringing another man into the home to help raise her son wouldn't be right. She said your cheating showed her that there really isn't much better out there, so why not take him back."

"That's stupid. I'm not going to accept that."

"Of course you wouldn't, Sydney. You know, all these years I never realized how selfish you are. You have a good man, but that isn't good enough. You have a good job, two healthy kids. A mother and father who love you. You've got a lot that a lot of us don't have, but the moment you feel unfulfilled in your marriage, you go out and ruin the lives of everybody else."

"Don't. Don't do that." I move back across to my car, and hop inside. Shut the door so hard it sounds like it caves in. I feel myself shaking as I try to put the key in the ignition. How. Dare. She.

Rachel knocks on my window as I put the car in drive. In her hands is my portfolio and purse. I roll down the window just enough for my things to fit through. Before pushing them in, she says, "You don't have to take responsibility now, but at some point you will have to face the consequences of your actions."

If only she knew, I already am.

Kennedy greets me with a tear-stained face the moment I walk through the door. I swear someone has a hit out on my sanity.

"Mommy, Mr. Carter's not coming back to school." The pout on her face tells me this has changed her world, even though there's less than three weeks of school left. "I have to have a new teacher."

I run my hand down her disheveled ponytail. "Aw, honey. I'm sorry."

"It's all Daddy's fault. I hate him and Uncle Mike."

"You don't mean that." I squat to her level, turn her to face me. "Sometimes things happen that we don't have any control over. Don't blame your father or your uncle." I want to tell her to blame me. That would only make matters worse, though. I pull her into me, give her a tight hug, rub her back, comfort her any way I can.

Through sniffles, she asks, "Can I have some ice cream?"

"Sure, honey." Lord, it's too early for this child to be an emotional eater. "Where's your brother?"

"Daddy's giving him a bath."

"Put one small scoop in a cup for him."

On my way out of the kitchen, I trip over Forrester's water dish. Water tips out, spills into his food dish. Now I'm jacking up the cat's life. I bend over, pick both dishes up. Pour the food in the trash, the water in the sink. Rinse them both out. Dry the food dish. Instead of more hearty nuggets, I grab a can of tuna from the cabinet. Before I can get half the can open, he comes running in the kitchen. As fluffy as he is, his belly beats him in here. His deep meow sounds like he's gargling hairb.a.l.l.s.

Once I finish giving our fur-child his dinner and fresh water, EJ nearly tramples over the dish as he slides into the kitchen in socks and Spiderman pajamas. "Mommyyyyy."

If I hear "Mommy" one more time tonight... "Watch out, EJ."

Kennedy sets his cup of ice cream on the island and scoots the barstool out. "You have to sit here and eat it."

His eyes light up. "Ooooh, we should put some chocolate chips in it."

Kennedy goes to the pantry. Before she can add the extra sugar to her brother's dessert, I intercept the bag.

He hops down from the barstool, slides over to me. "Noooo, Mommyyyy."

Why me, Lord? Why me?

"What's all this ruckus down here?" Eric Sr. shows up just in time.

Our daughter grabs her bowl of ice cream and huffs out of the kitchen.

"You really need to talk to her," I tell him.

"And say what?"

"Something." I shut the pantry door. Glance at EJ sitting at the island digging in his ice cream, apparently no longer concerned about chocolate chips. "You've got five minutes, then upstairs you go."

I don't bother saying anything else to my husband before walking out of the kitchen.

His steps follow close behind mine. "You go somewhere after work?"

I take my heels off before I hit the stairs. My feet thank me as the coolness of the hardwood brings them back to life. "No, why?"

"Thought you would've been home earlier."

"Had an unexpected appointment." I peep in Kennedy's room to make sure she's okay. She's sitting on the floor, her ice cream melting away on the floor next to her. A notebook nestled in her lap, pencil moving at a steady pace. Again, I say to Eric, "You need to talk to her."

"Were you with him?"

My stomach knots up. All of a sudden I have the urge to hurl, let everything come up out of me like it did weeks ago as I ran through my mother's neighborhood. A few hours ago, my best friend blamed me for s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up everyone's life. Now my husband wants to pin every missing minute on me being with another man. Is this the world I've created?

"I take that as a yes," he says as he follows me into our bedroom.

I close the door behind him. "No, Eric. It's a no. I was at work."

"You should've called."

The expression on my face scares me. Can see myself in the mirror in the corner of the room. One of my eyebrows is raised so high my head throbs. If I get any more tense, it might just attach itself to my hair line. "I was a few minutes late. Don't make something out of nothing."

I grab a nightgown from my dresser, take it in the bathroom behind me. Cut the shower on, let the water rinse me from head to toe. Rinse today's stress from me.

Eric's standing by the window in our room when I make it out of the bathroom. The moon has his attention. He doesn't hear my footsteps. Doesn't hear me walk out of the room to check on the kids. He's in the same spot when I come back in.

I pull the sheets back to the bed, proceed with my nightly ritual. Slather petroleum jelly on my feet, slip on a pair of socks. Cut the lamp off next to the bed.

"Mom says I should divorce you." My husband breaks the silence, his eyes still on the moon.

"Your mom says a lot of things."

His exhale lets me know I'm right. The last time his mom said something, I found out about a visitor he never wanted me to know about.

I close my eyes, search my thoughts. Don't have to delve too far. Seems like every thought, every feeling is on the surface. "You know, we both had plenty of opportunities to turn away from each other. We never misled each other, we just chose not to acknowledge the truth, like it was going to disappear." I let my words do their best to saturate the thickness in this room. "Now we're presented with another opportunity. Tell me what you want to do."

"My mom said we need to call it quits."

"You've already said that. I want to know what you have to say?"

"I don't like the way I feel. When you're gone, I think you're with him. I'm here all day until I pick up the kids. All day, my mind is on where you are." A hint of aggression mixes with insecurity.

I release an annoyed sigh. "At least your suspension is almost over and you can go back to work."

He turns in my direction. "That's not the point, Sydney."

The moon peeps through the blinds and casts its blue glow against his skin. His brows are furrowed, lips balled up like tiny fists on his face. There's nothing I can do to rea.s.sure him I'm busy selling houses when I'm not here. If I had a video crew following me around all day, he'd continue to swear I was up to no good. Infidelity plants a seed that absence makes grow.

"I have one of the most dangerous jobs there is. When I strap that gun to my belt every morning, I need to be focused on what I'm paid to do, what I swore to do. I don't have the luxury to think about what's going wrong in my marriage, who my wife is with, what she's doing when I'm in these streets. If my thoughts wander, that's it. If I make the wrong move, I can lose my life or cause one of my brothers to lose theirs. You put the wrong number down on a contract, that can be fixed. Can't bring a life back once it's gone." He flexes his gun hand. Opens and closes his palm, spreads his fingers. Does that over and over. "It shouldn't be like this," he says.

I flip the covers off, swing my legs to the side of the bed. Cut the lamp back on. Sit up straight and look my husband in the face. "You're right, it shouldn't be like this. It never should've been like this. We were scared to do anything about it before. What are we going to do about it now?"

He breaks my stare, lets his eyes roam the room. He walks into the bathroom. Warm water mixes with cool water. The toilet flushes. He comes back out. "My parents have been married nearly forty-two years."