8 Weeks

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter 27 - Cal

I always loved spending time with my family,the way we joked with each other, the love that was always in the room, and the laughter that inevitably filled the house. But sitting through dinner tonight was unbearable.

I was so apprehensive, worried about what Shelly wanted to talk about. I mean, I had a good idea of what she wanted to talk about, but it was the first time since we started our dates that she seemed to want to. I couldn't help but be worried about what she wanted to say. I only hoped that she wasn't going to try and back out of the last three dates.

I needed that time ...

I knew that at this point, Shelly wasn't ready to forgive me or change her mind about wanting a divorce, and I couldn't handle the thought of her giving up without giving me the shot we'd agreed upon.

I physically, and emotionally, could not handle even the thought ...

I tried to smile and laugh with everyone, but I knew my mom was watchingShelly and me carefully. Especially after she came back inside after talking to Shelly. I wondered what they'd had to say to each other, and my imagination was rampant with possibilities.

Scott could tell something was wrong too, and when we went to the kitchen to put candles on the cake, he pulled me to the side.

"Everything alright, bro?"

"I don't know," I whispered to him. It always seemed like my mom heard everything, and I didn't want her coming in the kitchen to batter me with questions. "Shelly asked me to come by later to talk."

Scott clapped his hand on my shoulder.

"Let me know if you need anything, and try not to let your anxiety show..."

"I was trying not to," I countered.

"Well, your acting sucks," Scott replied as he lit the candles. "Don't quit your day job."

That got areal grin out of me, so I whispered, "Asshole," as I carried the cake out, which earned me a glare from my mother.

Once the cake was devoured, we didn't have to stay long, because Craig had made plans to meet up with some of his friends. So, Shelly and I made our goodbyes rather quickly, and after promising my mother that I'd come by in the next few days, I followed Shelly to her house.

I didn't jump right out of the car after I parked; instead, I took a few minutes to try and calm my nerves. I looked up and saw Shelly waiting for me at the door, "Quit being such a pussy," I muttered to myself, then took a deep breath and got out of the car.

I followed her wordlessly into the house, and back into the kitchen. She motioned toward the table, so I walked over and grabbed a seat.

I wondered momentarily if I'd ever see any part of the house other than the kitchen.

"I'm so mad at you," Shelly said softly. The sound of raw pain in her voice made my stomach clench. She sat and looked at me, her face shuttered. "I need you to tell me everything that happened that night."

I looked at her for a moment, wanting to make sure she was sure that this was what she wanted. When I met her stony glare, I took a deep breath and began to recount that night in Vegas.

"We started at the craps table. We spent a lot of money and had a lot of free drinks in about an hour. We skipped dinner. I don't think we meant to, it just kind of happened. We went from Bellagio to Paris, and then took a cab to the other side of the strip. We would stop and gamble and have some drinks, and then we ended up going to a club..I guess it was the lack of food and the insane amount of shots we did at the club that really fucked me up. Once we said that we were celebrating Scott's bachelor party, everyone was buying us shots. I was trashed before midnight."

I paused, my stomach in turmoil and my palms starting to sweat, but Shelly just sat there watching me silently,almost as if she was trying to separate herself emotionally from the conversation, so I continued on.

"I remember telling the guys I had to go, and they kept ragging on me, calling me a pussy, a lightweight, and whatever else they could think of to try and get me to stay, but I was too fucked up to care. They said they got me in a cab, and told the driver where we were staying.They even gave him some cash ... I don't know. I don't remember anything from that point on." I wrung my hands and stared intoShelly's eyes, which were starting to tear up.

"When I woke up, I was naked and in bed with the worst hangover I'd ever had. I couldn't make it to the bathroom, so I puked in a trash can by the desk in the room. I don't know how long I threw up, but I heard the toilet flush and looked up, expecting to see one of the guys walkout, but it wasn't one of the guys."

"What did she look like?" Shelly asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Shelly ...it doesn't matter," I said, desperate for her to stop. I didn't want to hurt her more than I already had.

"It matters to me," she replied. "What did she look like?"

"She was blonde. Tall and blonde," I responded, my voice laced with regret.

"Where did you meet her?"

"I don't know."

"But you had sex with her."

"I don't know, Shel."

"Maybe you didn't have sex with her then, if you can't remember," Shelly asked, and I got a glimpse of hope through the tears that were falling down her face.

"We were both naked, Shelly. And although I don't remember meeting her or having sex with her, it's the only logical conclusion that I can come up with." I was sure my face reflected the regret that was filling my heart.

"So we'll never know ... Not for sure," she surmised sadly.

I reached out my hands to hers, then took them back when she flinched.

"No," I replied softly, although my entire being wanted to scream out loud.

It was like we were back to square one. Back to the night of our anniversary,like the last five weeks didn't matter. I was crushing Shelly allover again. "I don't think I'll ever know for sure."

Shelly nodded, then brought her hands up to wipe her face.

"I need you to go now."

My heart dropped, and I wanted nothing more than to take her in my arms and hold her until both of our hearts were whole again.

"Shelly,please ..." I started, but the look on her face stopped me. I stood up, but stopped and asked before leaving, "Will you still see me onSaturday?"

"I'll let you know," she replied, then brought her haunted gaze to mine. "I'm so mad at you," she said again.

"I know," I replied. "I'm sorry."