Between Octobers

May 3rd

May 3rd

Four long weeks. It had been four excruciating weeks since I'd walked out of his hotel room, and I was still trying to make sense of it. That's twenty-eight lonely nights spent crying and reflecting, and twenty-eight days spent speculating with my brother and Lily. All the what-if's and suppositions led to one defining point—I was a fool. Always have been.

I had yet to tell Evan about the baby. I told my brother, Aunt Rose, and Pastor Tony. Lily told Maria. Everyone knew, except Evan and Marcus. Telling Marcus was as good as telling him.

My brother sided against me. Ronnie said I had no right to keep this tidbit from Evan and I couldn't convince him that I didn't intend to, but simply could not fathom a way to face him. I wasn't sure I was strong enough to see him and then watch him reject me. Us.

Evan had made no qualms letting me know where he stood in terms of reconciliation. My initial reaction was anger, but the words hit like a cannon firing at close range. I couldn't run from the impact and was sinking fast.

My cheeks burned hot as I wiped the loose hair from my face and pulled it back into a messy knot.

"What am I going to do?" I asked the marble slab, sitting in the cool, green grass. Solomon didn't respond. Well, he was probably lecturing me for only waiting a year before I met and married someone else. And I'd always had an innate ability to block out criticisms. Still, that ability was being put to the test.

I'd tried to keep my humiliation from Lily at first, ignoring her impatient questions and answering without answering. I'd tried to make her think my coming home so soon was no big deal, that everything was fine. Of course, she went right to the internet. Her inquisition intensified when she heard his next film was put on hold. Then she heard the funding fell through. She wanted to know when Evan would be back. I told her I didn't think he would be, and blubbered the sickening details. I held out for twelve whole hours.

I heard he was at a rehab clinic in Arizona. She was keeping tabs on him—must know how badly I wanted to know what he was doing.

Every problem is a blessing in disguise, Sol used to say. Sure didn't feel like it.

Ronnie liked to say that life had a way of working itself out. I was nowhere near the 'work-out' portion of my thought processes, still deeply entrenched in mourning the death of my barely begotten marriage and the loss of my new best friend.

"Why do I allow things to happen to me? Why do I never take control of anything?"

What was it about me that made Evan think he could treat me any way he wanted? He was sorely mistaken if he thought I'd be bought with a few words of remorse. But he wouldn't even admit it! He wouldn't even say, 'Yes, I screwed up.' I couldn't forgive him if he wouldn't cop to what he did. It wouldn't matter so much if I were the only one to pay for my mistakes, but the boys loved Evan, too. 

What I'd give for the courage to look him in the face and say the words. At least then I could try to imagine moving forward. But I knew myself and the power he held over me. I may start out angry but, were we to come face to face, I would cave, probably apologize for blowing everything out of proportion, and then hate myself for it later. Evan would think he didn't have to respect me because I didn't respect myself.

If only I could carry the assertiveness I had with my kids over to other areas of my life. But with my boys, there was a clear course of action. I could see each choice and where it might lead. There was always a definite right and wrong way to handle each of them, according to my principles and their personalities. I saw a destination, a way to get them where I hoped.

With Evan, I was always flying blind.

What did I hope for? What terms would I be willing to accept from Evan? The first question was the easiest. I hoped we'd have a healthy, happy baby. I wanted all my children to be well-adjusted, honest, admirable men of faith. And I wanted to be with Evan. Of course, I cared about what happened. But not as much as I should have, certainly not enough to stay away. He seemed to care even less than I did, and that infuriated me.

Was she so beautiful, so desirous, that he was willing to risk us? Or was I of so little value to him that he simply didn't care? There were no answers to be had, so long as he was denying everything.  Did he expect playing stupid was enough to convince me? Love may be blind, but it wasn't deaf and dumb! I wondered where he met her. Probably through Stevie. That much I could believe. Sheri told me he was bad news. She said he was a prick. I wondered if Sheri really knew the truth like Evan said, or if he was counting on her to cover for him.

Should I ask her? The question was consumed by fury. How dare he put me in the position to have to resort to a third party! 

Images of things I didn't want to see filled my head. I imagined him kissing and touching a faceless woman the way he touched me. The same way he acted when filming with Gretchen. I wondered if it was her. Had he whispered the same sweet words—lines? How long was it going on? One time, the whole time? Did he love her, too, or just not me? Is this what he did—how he got his philandering reputation?

If he didn't love me, he should have said so. He never should've asked me to marry him. 

I looked back to the gray headstone. "Why do I want to believe him instead of the evidence?"

I wanted to call Lily. I needed reassurance that I was not on a hormonally-charged tirade. That I was not overreacting to a simple misunderstanding, like Evan had wanted me to think. I know what I saw and I wanted it verified. Again.

As if she heard my thoughts, Lily's number flashed on my cell's caller ID. Relief coursed through me, until I heard the tone of her voice.

"You need to come home, right now." 

"Why? Is Maria—"

"She's fine. It's . . . oh, this is bad, Grace. I'd rather wait until you're here to tell you."

"Why?" Knowing me the way she did and hearing her grave tone, she was probably right. I'd probably be happier if whatever it was remained a mystery, but asked her to tell me anyway.

"You're going to freak out. It's not even me, and I'm freaking out for you. Grace, you have to pick up the kids and come home. Now."

I'd already patted Sol's headstone and was on my feet, running for the Jeep. Lily was never cryptic. Whatever secret she held had to be bad. Really, really bad.

"Lily, just say it." 

"Are you sitting down?"

"Lily!"

"There's a video on the Internet . . ." Maybe she was expecting me to ask but I couldn't form a question without more information. "It's Evan—"

"What did he do? Is he sober?" I steeled myself beside my Jeep, knowing this was it—the defining piece that would determine which direction I'd go. With him or without him.

"You're in it, too."

"What?"   

"I think it came from when you went to visit him on set." She paused again. "You guys are in his trailer. It looks like it was taken from outside, through the screen on a back window. It's kind of grainy, but it's—well, obviously you thought you were alone."