Differences | Demi Lovato

11

Demi

Eventually Wilmer and I moved into a more comfortable position.  I laid on my back while he was on his stomach, our faces just inches apart.

"I know this is weird to say..." He murmured, as I raised one eyebrow. "But you really are beautiful."

"Why is that weird?" I laughed, and laced my fingers with his. "But thank you."

"I don't know why it's weird... sometimes I feel like I'm you're cheating on Wilmer with me. It's like you're someone else's wife in a way."

I bit my lip and sighed. "I hadn't thought about it like that... mainly because you're still so much like you."

"How?" Wilmer's eyebrows raised in interest, and I couldn't help but smile.

"Just your mannerisms... you make the same expressions at the same moments... you've got the same heart as you used to. I mean there's differences, but not as drastic as I thought there would be." He nodded slowly, the furrow in-between his eyes deepening. "Like this." I laughed, reaching up and smoothing the line with my fingertip. "You always have this line here when you're thinking or stressed out."

He smiled and nodded. "It's just surreal to think about, and if I think about it too much I get panicky. I mean... we have kids."

I bit my lip and sighed. "The doctors said they shouldn't see you until you get your memories back, but it's just... Mia's so young. She's always been a daddy's girl. She absolutely adores you, and she won't be able to understand you not remembering her. I don't want it to do more damage than good, but I also don't want not seeing you to do damage."

Wilmer sighed and the line was back, his eyebrow hitching together. "I could pretend?"

"Pretend?"

He shrugged and nodded. "Just for a visit... I could pretend to remember."

I chewed on my lower lip, thinking it through. "I honestly don't know how that would affect her. I don't know how well it would work."

"Yeah, you're right. I don't want her to get even more confused."

I sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "Don't take this the wrong way... but it's times like this I wish your memories would just magically come back. You would know what to do. You always knew what to do."

"Well you're doing pretty good."

I lifted one eyebrow and smiled at him. "Don't judge a book by it's cover."

"So talk to me." He propped himself up on his elbow to look at me. "You can do that, you know."

I smiled and mimicked his pose. "I don't want to make you sad though."

"You won't." He tried to reassure me. "Trust me."

"I just... I don't know how I'm feeling." I looked away and sighed. "You're you, but you're also not you. I've never really been good at being without you." I bit my lip and took his hand, bringing his fingertips down to the white lines that scarred my wrists, the tattoos only partly covering them. "Sometimes it gets hard for me."

His eyes traveled down, and I watched his eyes widen. "Demi..."

"I haven't in a very long time." I murmured, watching as he softly stroked the slightly raised marks. "But this... It hasn't been this hard to resist in a while."

Wilmer looked up at me, and for a split second I could see the old Wilmer in him. Then the confusion was backing his eyes, and the reality came crashing down.

"I had a lot of.... issues, when you met me. I was seventeen, a rising star in the industry. I did more drugs than I could count, and drank away every night. When I met you... something in me wanted to change. I wanted to change so I could be good enough for you. I used to throw up after I ate. It was something I learned from my mom and the girls at my school. You were... like a breath of fresh air after breathing in black smoke for my entire life." I picked at my nails and sighed. "I don't want you to think this is on you or anything. It's just... ever since the surgery it feels like the smoke's getting back in. Every day is harder to breathe."

He pulled me into his arms as I began to cry, but his touch only made me cry harder. I curled into him, the way I would've done with the old Wilmer. My hands searched for a tighter hold on him than the one I had, finally settling for a death grip around his waist. He held my head against his chest, his chin resting on top of my head.

"Demi... I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault." I choked out, burying my face into his neck. I was too far gone to care about the boundaries I had set for myself and how I acted around this new Wilmer. I was tired of being cautious. I was tired of pretending that everything was okay. I wanted my husband back. I wanted the Wilmer that I had spent the last twenty years with back. "I just don't know what to do. I don't know if I can do this, Wilmer."

He gently moved his hands down my hair, trying to soothe me in whatever way he could come up with. "Do you want me to go?"

I inhaled slowly and looked up at him, biting my lip for a moment before I nodded. "I'm sorry. I just need to think through things. I need to focus on myself... just for a little while."

"Okay." He leaned down and kissed my forehead. "I'll go, then."

I sat up with him, but grabbed his arm when he went to stand. "Wait." Wilmer looked down at me and I put my hand on his cheek, leaning up to press our lips together. "Stay with me tonight." I whispered against his lips. "Stay with me, please."

Wilmer's eyes were tortured and conflicted, but he nodded, surrendering as he laid back, allowing me back into the comforting circle of his embrace. We stayed like that for a long time, both of us sinking into each other, both of us not wanting to let go of the other. He was still Wilmer, his grip on me was the same, the way my heart reacted when he looked at me was the same. I didn't want him to leave but at the same time I didn't know how I could keep going like this if he stayed.

I must've fallen asleep, because when I opened my eyes again, the room was dark and I was alone in the bed, my arms wrapped around a pillow instead of Wilmer's waist. Rubbing my face, I stood up and walked out of the room, my eyes finding the soft yellow glow of a light in the crack of the door to Wilmer's office.

"Wilmer?" I pushed open the door a bit and peeked inside. He was sitting at his desk, staring at a paper clipped pile of papers. "Hey, are you okay?" I pushed open the door the rest of the way, and Wilmer's head snapped up. My heart dropped into the stomach as his face filled with anger and he stood up. "What's wrong?"

"What kind of game are you playing at?" He snarled, causing me to take a step back.

"What? I'm not playing any game."

A malicious chuckle left his mouth. "You've been playing with my fucking head this entire time." He shook his head and tossed the pile of papers he had been reading. They hit me in the stomach and fell to the floor, spreading out all over the floor. "It's probably a good thing I leave." He picked up a black bag off of the floor I hadn't noticed before.

"Why are you doing this?" I whispered, my hands beginning to shake at the thought of him laving me for good. "What is happening? Is this about what I said in the bed?"

"No." He snapped, walking forward until he was in my face. "You painted a pretty good picture huh? Two kids, picket fence, all happy? Didn't think I'd find out about the fact that I wanted a divorce!"

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-Rachel