As soon as I opened the door, I knew who it would be. I don't know why I didn't think of it when the doorbell rang in the first place – I shouldn't have even touched the knob. He was standing right there, with all the features I'd seen in her photographs.
I flinched back instinctively, ready for a punch. None came. My hand was still on the door, and I was compelled to shut it right in his face, but something stopped me. I looked closer at him. He looked... a mess. Like he'd been taken apart and put back together again. His jeans were worn at the knees, there were dark circles under his eyes and lines on his face I hadn't seen in even the most recent of photos. Despite the similarities, he wasn't the same man in the photographs. I waited for him to say something first.
"Please, don't close the door on me," he begged. It was as though he was the one who had done wrong. It was pathetic. "Please, I'm just trying to keep my family together."
I remained motionless for a second, and then stepped aside, watching him walk out of the daylight into the shadows of my room. I could've opened the blinds for him, but I decided not to. I just switched on an old lamp besides the equally old sofa he'd settled down on, and sat opposite, facing him. Again, I let him speak first.
"I'm sorry, I... I know this is sudden, but... I need to know – why?" His speech was as broken and fragmented as his appearance. "When you knew that she was married, why didn't you break it off?"
I think about the answer for a moment, but then something sparks in his eyes, something I recognize, something that makes sense to me. Anger. He's angry, like I'd expected him to be, like he should be. I'm glad – it's easier to deal with than the pathetic, broken man he'd been before.
"I have half a mind to – to get violent, you know?" he says before I can reply to his question. He's sitting on the edge of his seat, hands clasped tightly on his knees. His whole body posture is tight, his shoulder blades rubbing his cheeks.
"When I think about you touching her -" he has to stop for a second to take a breath. "Oh, Jesus. And – and you have children, too. How can you do that to them? Imagine what they think of you. You're a monster, you know."
The words don't affect me the way he wants them too. I know they're just a product of his anger, and I don't take them personally. I know what I've done, I know the consequences, and I've made peace with that.
I watch him visibly calm down, taking deep breaths and wiping his hands across his face. He still sits in the same posture, and he has an energy around him that lets me know he's not quite done yet.
When he next speaks, his voice is quiet. "Listen, that isn't what I came here to say. Look, I just – I need you to back off. I know you're still talking to her. I'm trying to rebuild my family, I'm trying to fix what you broke, and -" Another deep breath in. "You're not helping by staying in her life."
I gather myself for a second. I know what I want to say. I'm ready to say it. I'm just not sure he's ready to hear it. In fact, I'm entirely sure he's not ready to hear it. But I'm going to say it anyway.
"You know she doesn't love you anymore, don't you?"
He draws back, like I've shocked him. For the first time since he'd walked in here, I feel pity for the man.
"She wouldn't have... got with me if she still loved you. You know that, right? I know that's hard to hear but-"
"But she meant it." He says it so quietly, I almost miss him saying it and talk right over him.
"What?"
He looks up at me, and there's something desperate in his eyes. "She used to call me 'husband'. She meant it when she called me that. She used to whisper it to me in bed, she used to tell me that she'd always be there for me. I know she meant that."
I shake my head a little. "Dude, listen to yourself. She used to."
"I know. I know. I wish I'd never heard her say any of it." He sucks in air, and for a moment I think I see tears glittering in his eyes. "'Always'", he mimics. "Why did she say 'always'? Why did she make it sound like a promise? And why did she break it?"
I don't know what to do. I'm sitting as much on the edge of my seat as he is. Our knees are about a foot away from each other. I wring my hands for a moment whilst he sits with his head bowed, and then reach out one hand and hesitantly place it on his knee.
"Hey, man, I -"
"No!" he shouts, and he jumps up with a sharp jolt. He's back to fuming again. Jesus, this guy is all over the place.
"This is your fault! I've met with your family, you know. Your wife and your children. I know you left them - they're as wrecked as I am. Your kids don't have a father, your wife has lost a husband – and me? You're taking everything from me. You think you can just make off with my wife? And you know we were thinking of having children, I asked Madelyn, she told me you knew! You've ruined my chance – our chance – at having a family! How can you sleep at night, knowing how many lives you've ruined?" He laughs bitterly, turning away from me. "Oh yeah, with my wife."
"James -"
"She's mine, you hear?!" he screams back, whirling around to look straight at me. I'd stood up after his speech, so we're face-to-face now, looking each other straight in the eye from across the sofa. "We made vows! She's mine! You stole her, but she's mine! She loves me! We're married! That means we stick together through everything, okay? She does love me! You said she doesn't but what do you know? You can't know that, you've seen nothing of our lives, she loves me!"
He'd flailed the whole time he spoke, his hands getting dangerously close to my old vintage lamp. He was getting hysterical, his eyes glinting in a disturbing way, and I was beginning to worry about more than just the furniture. I strode around the sofa and straight towards him, getting a firm grip on both of his arms.
"James. You're getting hysterical. Calm. Down." I keep my gaze steady, and watch as that manic light slowly fades from his eyes. "Breathe. Just breathe."
He did. He took about a dozen deep breaths in, and then out. I waited through each one, still with his arms in my grasp, breathing along with him. There was something hellish in his eyes I couldn't look away from. I let go after the eleventh breath, and he dropped his gaze from mine, looking straight down at the floor.
Finally, after a few more seconds of silence, he pushed past me and headed for the doorway. His shoulders were slumped, his breathing slow, and he was more broken than he had been when I'd first opened the door to him this morning. His footsteps sounded oddly heavy on my carpeted floor. I swallowed once, opened my mouth, then shut it. He reached for the handle.
"Love's funny, isn't it?" I say just before his hand touches metal. He pauses, and his head turns a little, but he doesn't move away from the door.
I sit on the back of the sofa and stare down at my hands whilst I speak. "Sometimes love just – fades. There isn't any warning, no notice. And you know, when it's gone... it doesn't come back. Not in the same way."
I throw my head back, stare at the dirty white of my ceiling. I'm not looking at him, so I don't know how my words affect him, but he hasn't opened the door yet.
"Truth is, James, there's nothing you can do. It's never going to be the same way as it was when you were making those vows. And... there's nothing you can do to stop her loving me, or me loving her. She's happy when she's with me, and when I'm with her... I don't know. I feel alive." I drop my head and finally look at him. He's in the exact same position as he was before. "I'm sorry."
His fingers touch the knob. Light streams into the room, is blocked by his form, and then they're both gone.
