If I Break

May 9th, 2011

"Lauren, sweetie?"

Raven's voice wakes me up. I open my eyes and see the sky is dark but lit with stars. I've fallen asleep on the patio couch, waiting for Cal to come back.

"What time is it?" My body is stiff. I sit up to work out the kinks in my back. "Is Cal back?" I grimace, trying my best to keep the urgency out of my voice. I feel anxious; butterflies are lining my stomach again.

"I'm sure he'll be back soon and that everything is fine." Raven unsuccessfully tries to sound confident.

I can't even hide my disappointment. I'm too tired to try to play the role of a happy and content wife. It isn't even worth it after the show Cal and I put on for her neighbors.

"Can you think of why he wouldn't tell you what happened?" she asks.

I roll my eyes. If only I could think of a reason other than he doesn't want to.

"Lauren, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?" she asks, taking a seat beside me.

Okay, here it comes. "You're going to ask it anyway, aren't you?" I reply sardonically and make room for her to sit beside me.

"I don't mean to pry, but, honey, something doesn't seem right with you both," she says softly. Her tone is eerie and sensitive, the tone people use when approaching an unpleasant subject.

"What makes you think that?" I say sarcastically. I immediately regret my snide remark as she looks down at her feet, defeated. "I'm sorry, Raven."

I sigh and look into the distance. I'm angry and frustrated, but it has nothing to do with her. She's done nothing but show concern for me, and I have no right to patronize her like that.

"Sweetheart, it's okay," she says, squeezing my hand supportively.

I feel tears in my eyes. God, I hate this. I hate that she can still read my face and that she can bring whatever emotions I'm suppressing to the surface.

"Honey, don't cry," she says before wrapping her arms around me into a long, warm embrace.

I can feel myself breaking down. I hug her back, tears flowing down my cheeks.

"It'll be okay, sweetheart," she says, stroking my back.

"I-I don't think it will."

"I knew something was wrong when I first saw you. I was hoping it wasn't this." She pulls a Kleenex out of her jacket pocket and hands it to me, taking a seat beside me as I wipe the tears from my face. "Is it another woman?"

"I don't know what he does. He's gone so much. Honestly, though I may be in denial, I don't think it's another woman or women. Then again, Cal would never let me find out; he's too smart for that," I say undecidedly. I think back to the night when we had a huge fight about my theories on why he's gone so much, when I first became tired of his frequent disappearances, and how that fight ended and led to the pattern we have now.

"Well. What is it? He doesn't hurt you, does he?" Raven asks worriedly.

"No!" I say quickly. "That's not it at all. Cal has never hit me, pushed me—he even hates to argue. He always just leaves. That's the problem."

"Well, honey, sometimes it's best to leave, especially if he has a bad temper. A long walk..."

I knew she wouldn't understand. She'd probably think I was silly or overemotional if I told her how I really felt. "I don't mean it like that. It's more than that. Cal, he's..." I exhale. I can't even say this out loud without sounding like an oversensitive idiot.

"Lauren, you can tell me anything," Raven says reassuringly.

I go to stand at the railing on the other side of the porch. If I tell her this, I can't look at her. "When we first met, it was like... it was like I was dreaming. He was this handsome, mysterious, rugged, intelligent man. All that I could ask for. I'd never felt as attracted to anyone as I was to him. My hormones took control and left my brain behind." I look awkwardly at Raven, who has a small smile on her face.

"Go on," she says, clasping her hands.

"It was like I wasn't living in the real world. It was just us. In the real world, I wouldn't just go with a guy I barely knew without asking any questions. But with Cal, I basically knew nothing about him, and I didn't care. Because though I didn't know facts, I thought—well, I felt like we were connected. I told him things I'd never told anyone." I reflect on my many nights in bed with Cal, when I revealed all my soul, his eyes on me as if I were the only person in the world.

"God, his eyes... those eyes are what I fell in love with. They're what make me forgive him a thousand times over." I wipe the leftover tears on my face. "How can our marriage work if he doesn't trust me? Today just proves it, and it's not just today. He rarely tells me how he feels. He leaves when he's angry. And then he comes back and thinks everything can be fixed with a good fuck!"

My jaw drops as I realize what I've just said. I look at Raven, feeling embarrassed, but I see that she's not. She's listening attentively.

"I-I just don't know how to get through to him. I don't know how to make him open up. He won't let me in. I used to try so hard, then I got sick of being turned away or shut down. Today was just a reminder of that. If he doesn't trust me, can you imagine the secrets he has? If he gets to pick and choose what I get to know and not know, I'm more of a child than a wife." I take a much needed breath.

"Well, from what you've told me, his job is confidential in nature. That would explain—"

"It's not the job!" I interrupt her, shaking my head defiantly. "It's something else. I can feel it. Whatever happened today..." I trail off as I catch sight of the black Porsche pulling up to the driveway.

Raven walks over to me, puts both hands on my shoulders, and looks me straight in the eye. "What's in the dark, will always come to light." She gives me a reassuring smile before pulling me into another hug.

She then withdraws into the house, and I turn my attention to Cal getting out the car. His face is expressionless, and he glances at me as he slowly climbs the stairs.

"I don't—" I begin, but he holds a hand up, stopping me mid-sentence.

"I'm not doing this with you tonight. If you want to fight, stay out here and argue with yourself," he says disdainfully.

I look at him standing there, expressionless. As if I'm the one who likes to fight and argue all the time. As if I didn't sit on this porch for hours after he left, worried about him, waiting on him to come back safely.

I think of how he has the nerve to stroll up as if he didn't fly out of here like a bat out of hell after kicking me out of his car. I want to throw a fit and yell at him and not stop until he tells me what's going on. A part of me wonders if everything earlier was an act, an excuse to get away. Maybe the answer is obvious—he's a cheating bastard.

Yet, when I think of him earlier, how his eyes pleaded with me, how he was distraught and vulnerable, and that one moment when I saw the panic and worry I'd never seen before, I know he's genuinely struggling with something. I fight every urge to smack him across the face. Instead, I hug him. I hold him close for a long time. Tomorrow, I will need answers. I'll demand them. I can't go on with him like this. Tonight though, I know he needs me, even if he doesn't say it.