Authors: S. Moose

Interrupted Vol 1 (5 page)

Henry’s phone beeps, and he looks at it. “Cam, something came up with Martin. I’ll drop you off and head back. I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

“No, I
want
to talk, Henry!”

“About what?”

“You’re cheating! I saw you with your whore the night of the gala. I know you’ve been cheating on me, but then you were back to being the man I fell in love with. Now, since I’m not pregnant, are you going to go cheat on me?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie!” I scream, letting go of my emotions. Banging my hands against his arm, I scream for the truth. “Just tell me!”

Henry jerks the car to the side of the road, grabbing my arms and shaking me. I push him away, but he doesn’t move. His strong arms get tighter around my arms, squeezing, trying to control me. I spit in his face, screaming for him to let me go.

“Calm down, Cam! It was a
one
-time thing, and I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry!”

“No! It’s not enough. I need to know you’re not going to cheat on me again.”

“Stop. All right. Do you understand me?” His hand lets go of my arm, but he grabs my chin, smirking at me. “
I’m
the man in this marriage.
You
do not tell me what to do. If I wanna fuck someone else then I’ll fuck someone else. You do your part, and I’ll keep buying you whatever you want.”

“I want a divorce!”

“Too bad, Sweetheart,” he smirks, pushing me against the seat, quickly getting on top of me.

“Stop! Stop!” Using everything in me I try to push him away, but he’s too strong. His mouth devours mine as he holds down my neck and pulls down his shorts. His other hand yanks my dress up and rips off my panties.

“Henry, stop!”

“You want this,” he mutter, sliding his fingers in my pussy. “You may think you don’t want this, but feel how wet you are.” Before I can say anything he slams into me, thrusting in and out. “Tell me you fucking want this.”

“I want this,” I whisper. “I want this.”

Holding back the tears, I tell myself not to cry. I can’t cry. I don’t cry. Crying shows weakness, and I am not weak. It doesn’t matter what’s going on in my life or how I feel. Throughout the years I’ve learned to shut down during stressful situations and keep it all to myself. I’ve let someone in before and it left me vulnerable, as if my heart was pulled out of my chest and stomped on several times. I don’t let very many people in. I have a few close friends from high school. I’m not popular. I’m not the greatest with conversation. I’m simply me, Cam Ellison — wait, VonWart. I’m the girl waiting for the rain to come back.

DAYS GO BY, and I’ve been working endless hours, keeping myself busy so I don’t have to think about what’s going on with my life. Henry’s been gone, away on business so he says. I’m turning into the pathetic woman I told myself never to become. Alone in her bed, watching the sun rise and fall, hoping for a revelation, but never getting one.

Picking up the half-f bottle of wine, bringing it to my lips, I drink until the final drops are on my tongue. Picking up the bottle from my nightstand, I take a handful of sleeping pills, not enough to be dangerous, just enough to sleep for a while. Drifting in and out of consciousness I finally close my eyes and forget about everything.

The bed sinks in, and I feel a warm hand brushing my hair away from my face. I will myself to wake up, but decide against it. I’m dreaming. I smile, touching the hand of a man I don’t know. This isn’t Henry. I know Henry’s hands. These hands are familiar. Maybe it is Henry, and he’s trying to be a better man and husband.

Lips are on my cheek, and I feel his hand resting on the other side of the bed. He smells delicious. What’s that cologne? It’s nothing I’ve ever smelled before.

“I love you,” the voice rings through my head. I know that voice. Forcing my eyes open I look around the room, but it’s just me.

“Impossible,” I mutter, reaching for my phone and ignoring all the messages. I dial Beverly’s number and tell her to get over right away.

Jumping in the shower, I wash away all the crap I’ve been going through these past few days and breathe in and out. This isn’t happening. This isn’t possible.

By the time I’m in yoga pants and a tank top, Beverly’s at the door. I unlock it and am met with a slap on the arm with yelling.

“You had me worried sick! What the fuck is wrong with you!”

“I heard Ayden’s voice! He’s not dead! He’s not dead!”

Beverly looks at me, and then Dylan walks in. They look at each other and then back at me. I know I sound crazy and it doesn’t make sense, but I know Ayden was here.

“Babe,” Beverly starts to say, pulling me into the kitchen. “I know you’re going through a lot with Henry, IVF and Ayden, but babe, he’s dead. Ayden’s gone.”

I shake my head, “I heard this voice.” I grip the marble counter top, closing my eyes, remembering the moment on my bed. Was I dreaming?

“Cam, we’re here, and it’s gonna be okay,” Dylan chimes in, putting his arm around me. “It’ll be okay.”

The next night, as I’m resting on the couch watching
One Tree Hill,
the door opens and in walks my lame-ass husband. He busies himself in the foyer and kitchen before walking in the living room.

“I’m home.” I nod, not responding or caring. “Can you talk to me?”

“No,” I respond without any emotions. “Watching OTH.” He looks at the TV and lets out a sigh.

“Well, if you don’t wanna talk, I’m going out.”

“Okay, that’s fine. I knew this wouldn’t last,” I huff.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means.” Turning to face him, I tell myself to stand strong. “Make sure you wrap it, and don’t come home late. Actually don’t come home at all.”

“You’re getting on my fucking nerves, and I need space away from you.”

“Well, you had a week, and I guess you really were at a convention, huh?”

“I fucking was, Cam! I made
one
damn mistake.” I scoff again. Once a cheater always a cheater, I think to myself. “You wanna know what?”

“What?” I mutter.

“I want a fucking child, Cam. We’ve been going through this, and I’m fucking tired, all right? I get it and I understand your pain, but fuck. It should work and since it’s not, then I don’t know.”

“What don’t you know?”

“If we should stay together.”

And that’s all he says before I get up and push him, knocking him off balance. We stare at each other, neither of us saying a word. “Then file for divorce because I’m sick of you, too!”

“Whatever; I don’t need this shit.”

“Good. Then go! I’m sure your next whore will love riding your small dick.”

Henry doesn’t say anything. Instead he rushes out the door, slamming it, causing the paintings on the walls to shake.

Alcohol. I need alcohol to numb all the shit going on in my life. Alcohol to escape and find the smallest piece of something to make me feel again.

Looking through the stock of liquor bottles, I select an unopened bottle of
Grey Goose
. Twisting off the blue cap, I pour some in a martini glass, with a dash of dry vermouth and olive juice, topping it with a few olives. I smile sweetly, raising the glass in the air before bringing the much needed drink to my lips. His words hit me harder than before.

I’m broken. Plain and simple. Since I can’t give him kids, he’s going to go somewhere else and get what he wants.

When I look around the house I imagine children running around filling the air with laughter and “she did it” or “I’m telling on you!” Drifting in and out of reality, I try to pull myself together and accept the harsh truth. I can’t feel like this anymore. I can’t. Everything inside me screams to feeling wanted and comfort. I want someone to hold me in his arms and tell me it’ll be all right, but it’s just me in the house. I can feel myself pulling away from reality and back to a place where I sail through life without feeling too much. If I go back there, who knows when I’ll come back or if I’ll want to come back?

Settling on the couch, I bring my legs up and tuck them under myself. Above the mantel there’s a large, framed picture of Henry and me from two Christmases ago. We’re both smiling in the picture with his arm around my waist. Those were the happy times, times when I felt the intense love from him. Now, that intensity is gone. I have no idea what’s going to happen to us.

Today marks the death of our marriage. I don’t know who my husband is anymore. Replaying Henry’s actions in the car starts to give me a headache. This man I call my husband isn’t my husband. He’s a stranger to me, someone I should love, but don’t. Since he’s cheating on me, I guess it’s something I have to accept.

Me:
Can you come over?

Beverly:
Sure will! What are you up to?

Me:
Drinking for one…

Beverly:
Coming over now!

I sigh, putting away my phone. Placing it on the kitchen counter, I go to the sink and wash the dishes to keep busy before Beverly comes over. These mindless tasks are just that — mindless. My phone vibrates against the counter. I turn off the faucet and wipe my hands before looking at who is texting me.

Sharp:
Eighty hours?

Me:
Yeah, I know I’ve been working a lot. Just need to stay busy.

Sharp:
Is everything okay?

Me:
Yeah.

Sharp:
I don’t like liars, Camila.

Me:
Not lying, thank you very much =)

Sharp:
Okay. Have a nice night.

I’m about to type ‘you too,’ but there’s something pulling me to tell him what’s going on. Sharp and I have never crossed the lines, and I’m not sure if it’s smart.

Me:
My husband is cheating on me. He just left, and I think we’re about to get a divorce.

Sharp:
Fuck him. He doesn’t deserve you, Camila. Don’t waste your time.

Me:
Thanks, Sharp. I’ll be fine after a few bottles of wine, haha.

Sharp:
Well, be careful. Have a nice night.

Me:
You too.

And I will have a good night and I’ll be fine. I’m so tired of feeling like shit. I need to get a hold of my life before I lose control. Fucking fate and destiny. Those two are ugly and mean bitches. You think they’d want people to be happy and in love, but as soon as two people find their reason, it gets stolen and you find yourself in the corner of your bedroom, rocking back and forth. You’re never able to sleep and stopped eating. I lost twenty pounds and looked unhealthy. Everything I wanted was gone in the blink of my eyes.