Recalling Reality

Chapter 35

It is hard to wake up in the morning after realizing that you completely destroyed a man's life by doing the worst thing imaginable to him. I hate myself. I hate my very existence. But, what can I do to change the pain I caused Shane? I can apologize, but no matter how sorry I am, I still can't erase the past. I can't undo my doings.

He is silent. And I understand. I don't push him to talk to me, because I've done enough. But, I am scared he is going to suggest that we get a divorce, and he moves out. After all, it is what "we need to talk" means.

I still can't catch my breath and I am pacing the living room hoping he suggests that we just put all this aside, and try to rebuild what we had. Because we sure did have it all. Since that weekend of staying in the paradise, I knew I wanted him to be my forever.

As for Ryan, I just don't understand it. I mean, yes, we talked, we had some pretzels at the mall together, he helped calm me down after the humiliation I faced. Though, sleeping with him, it just doesn't seem right.

The letter suggests that I did. And we had a secret we kept. And that secret was plain as day in his written words. I did call him once again, but still, straight to voicemail. He still wasn't talking to me.

What if Shane confronted him about it, and he's agreed never to come around me, or talk to me again? Clearly, Ryan and I were friends, but he just seemed like the type that would never just disappear like this. There had to be more to this story than I knew. If I lost part of my memory, then I had to be missing more to this whole thing. There had to me... pictures. There were pictures all over the house, so there had to be some more that I could use to try to remember why the hell I did what I did.

Downstairs is where I saw all those books. Well, that I hoped were photo albums. And just as I step in the rug, my foot slides across the damn tiles and skate into the damn shelf. I get my feet under me, and I pick up that rug, and throw it across the room. Then, I retreat to my basement. I must find these answers.

When I get to the photo albums, I realize they are not photo albums. They are leather bound classic novels that I have stored away. But, there must be something here that can lead me to remember. And tell me why I admitted to having an affair.

I understand that if I did, I did. But the more I think about it, something doesn't seem right about it. I loved Ryan. I can honestly say that I did, but I don't feel, in my heart, as if it was the kind of love I hold when I look at Shane.

There is something here, but where? Where could it be? I have to find it before I lost Shane. If Ryan isn't going to talk to me, then I have to put the pieces together myself. I can't lose Shane over this.

I need to know for myself. I need to know the truth for me.

I searched the basement living room, but there isn't anything that tells me any more than what I already figured out. My office, nothing. There is nothing but the novels I wrote, and that are... What are they even about?

I pluck the first one off the shelf, dating back to right after my brother's wedding. And right away, I notice that it's dedicated to Ryan, for all his help getting me into the writing again.

And that is when it started. Each book after that, I've dedicated to him. Why would I dedicate my novels to him? I had Shane. Without him, I probably wouldn't be anything, from what I could recall of the time I do remember.

"What are you doing?" Shane walks into the office and I glance around seeing the room a mess. My books are scattered on the floor, and photos are all over the place.

I swallow hard, and my heart picks up some speed as I take in the havoc I've created and hadn't even noticed. "I'm looking for something."

"What, Hannah? It's almost midnight. What can you possibly be looking for?" His brows are pinched in the middle and he is angry at me. If I were him, I would be angry with me, too.

"I need to figure this out." I push the stack of books to the side and crawl over to the desk. There has to be something in there that I am missing. I dig through the bottom drawer where the letter was, and take out each item, checking it over and over again. Notebooks, papers, slips of notes, and junk, junk, and more junk. Nothing that tells me anything.

Snatching my cell phone off the top of the desk, I find Ryan's name in the contact list and press the call button. Once again, I am greeted with his answering message. "You need to call me now. If you don't, never, ever come over to my house again. I am serious, Ryan. You better call me."

A curse breaks through Shane's lips as he pushes himself off the doorframe. "Did you just call Ryan?"

"Something isn't right, Shane. I need to know." Dropping the phone on the floor, I shove the desk drawer shut and start on the next one.

"Hannah, you need to stop. Right now."

"Something isn't right, Shane. I know it's not. And I need to talk to Ryan." My eyes are filling with tears and I am getting sick of being the sappy one who is always crying. I've always hated crying. And now, it seems that I have been doing nothing but crying.

"You need to just stop, Hannah. Pick up the room, put everything back. There is nothing that can every change it. Now, just stop. Stop thinking that whatever you do will fix what happened." He reaches for my hand, but I pull away. If I did have the affair, I didn't want him to ever touch me again. I didn't deserve it. I didn't deserve anything.

"You don't understand. I need to talk to him, because... this isn't right." As much as I don't want to, my sobbing is breaking free and I am struggling with a hard covered journal that was tucked away in the drawer. "How can I destroy everything, Shane? How can I..."

I open it up and some photos fall out. Photos that I don't ever recall seeing.

One was of just Quinn holding a beer and smiling. His looks older than the last time I've seen him, when he said his I Do's. His hair peaked a little more in the front, and some glitter stands had multiplied. But, he looked just as happy as I've known him to be, especially when he'd found someone he fell in love with.

The second one was Ryan and Quinn standing beside each other, holding up their beers and their arms around each other. There was snow on the ground, and a blazing fire in behind them, but nothing that didn't look like a party.

I tuck them back in the book with the handful of others that I didn't bother to look at. Knowing I would never be able to talk to him, or see him again, was too much to bear right now. It just made the pain worse, and more knives plunge into my chest and gut.

"It happened, Hannah." He releases a loud breath of air and steps back. His hands rest on his hips and the fatigue shades his eyes. "I don't understand it either. But, it happened, and there is not a damn thing that anyone can do to change it."

"But... If I just talk to him..." I sit back with the white wall behind me, and I pull my knees to my chest. "I can figure out why... this doesn't make sense. Shane, I love you too much to hurt you like that, and I don't understand why I did. I need to know why I would do that to you."

He turns his back to me and runs his fingers through his darker blond locks. His hair is longer than he usually keeps it, but I am sure with the recent events, the stress keeps him from thinking about his hair. "You will not get any answers from him, Hannah. Just... Just let it go."

"How can I let it go when it doesn't seem right, Shane? Why should I live with knowing I have... I slept with Ryan..." My stomach clenches hard, and whatever contents were in there, lift up. I lurch forward and everything comes out. A hand wraps around my hair, holding it out of my face for me, and I sob even harder.

"He will never answer your calls again. And he will never, ever come around again. He is gone, Hannah." His voice eases and his free hand presses down on my back. "As much as I hate that bastard for sleeping with my wife... For ruining my life... He's dead, Hannah."

I look up, through all the tears and the pain, just to see the devastation in those once, beautiful blue eyes. And what comes forth is a man who lost a best friend, someone he's known most of his life, and the person who was there for him when he almost decided to take his own life after finding out his girlfriend was sleeping with his own brother.

"There is no talking to him to get whatever answers you think you need. He's gone. He didn't survive the accident." His voice cracks as he tips his head and a tiny sob sneaks out. "He never woke up."