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10
Lucas
My mind is spinning in what feels like a hundred directions all at once. A couple of years ago, I watched a documentary on the Titanic. I remember wondering what went through the Captain’s head in those last moments when he realized there was no saving his ship. When he stood there, helplessly watching it sink into the icy depths. That’s what I’m feeling now. That look on Alexis’ face told me everything. She’s not stupid. She knows. I’m at a loss for what to do besides calling her over and over. She’s not answering. She never ignores my calls. I want to go back in time and make different decisions. Try to be strong enough to tell Monica to go to hell. But that’s the problem. Even if I could go back, I don’t know if I’d be capable of making different decisions. I’m fucked up and I’m deluding myself if I think otherwise.
***
The sound of Eric’s hand slapping on the desk startles me from my thoughts. “Are you even listening to me?” His eyebrows are drawn together, a puzzled look on his face. When I don’t answer, he sits back with a sigh. “Okay, spill. What’s going on with you? You’ve been off for a while now.”
I don’t know what to say. Eric’s been by my side since Uni. We share the same views on life and the same work ethic, and I don’t want to admit what I’ve done. I don’t want to lose his respect.
“I just have a lot on my mind.”
“Everything okay at home?” Of course he would ask that. Business is doing well, so he knows that’s not the problem.
“Could be better.” I don’t want to smile, but I try anyway. I know it falls flat when his puzzlement turns to a frown.
“You want to talk about it?”
I shake my head, pulling the McClellan file towards me and closing it. “Nah, it’s good. Would you mind flying solo today? I need to take off early to sort out some things.”
“Sure, man.”
“Thanks, I’ll owe you one.” I hand him the file.
His voice stops me at the door. “Hey, let me know if you want to grab a few beers.”
With a chin nod, I’m out the door. I still don’t know what I’m going to do, but I have to do something.
***
Alexis’ car isn’t in the driveway when I get home. She should have been home by now. When, once again, she didn’t answer her phone, I called Satin and Style, and June told me she’d already left. Maybe she got held up, and I beat her home. I move to throw my keys in the bowl but freeze, my muscles locking in place. My mind is trying to deny what it’s seeing, but it can’t. Panic starts a slow simmer in my gut as I take in her wedding ring lying on top of a photo that makes me want to retch. My hand shaking, I reach out and pick up the ring. Clenching it tightly, I look around wildly. I want to find her, force her to put it back on where it belongs. But it’s futile, the silence mocking me with its emptiness.
Reality crashes into me, twining with panic, and my legs give way. Oh God, what have I done? I hardly register my knees hitting the floor. Grabbing the photo, I clench it in my hand, forcing myself to look at it. Willing myself to feel the pain Alexis undoubtedly felt when seeing it. At this moment, nobody can loathe me more than I do myself.
With a cry, I crumble it into a ball and hurl it as hard as I can, not noticing when it bounces harmlessly off the wall and comes to a stop. I need to find her. I need to fix this. Wrenching my phone out of my pocket, I dial her number. It goes straight to voicemail, so I leave a message and send a text. My fingers are shaking so much I have to correct almost every second word.
Lucas: God, Alexis. Where are you? Please, just answer your phone.
Getting up, I dial again, but once again, it goes straight to voicemail. I’m about to call Lizzy’s school when I’m hit with the memory of her telling me she’d booked us a weekend away. Surely she wasn’t planning on still going? I storm up the stairs, and my worst fears are confirmed when I see a suitcase missing. Frantically I try to remember if she mentioned where, but I draw a blank. God. I was such an asshole, I hadn’t even asked for details. Sinking down on the bed, I shoot her another text.
Lucas: I beg you, don’t do this. Tell me where you are and I’ll come. I’ll get in my car right now and I’ll come
Seconds ticking by feel like hours, and helplessness sets in when she doesn’t answer. I shiver at the feeling. Years ago, I promised myself I would never feel this way again. I need to feel in control, and everything is slipping through my fingers like grains of sand.
Lucas: I’m going fucking crazy over here. I’m scared shitless right now. I need to know that the two of you are safe
Hours later, I’m lying on our bed, wishing as all hell that this is a nightmare and I’ll be waking up at any moment. I’ve called anyone I could think of that might know where Alexis has gone, but I’m shit out of luck. The thought of Alexis out there—somewhere—hurting is a festering wound slowly pumping poison through my body. The thought of me being the one that caused that pain makes me want to curl up and die. She’s going to leave me, is a refrain going round and round in my head until I want to scream my hopelessness to the roof.
I knew, I fucking knew, that what I had done was an unforgivable sin in her eyes.
Yet I did it anyway. I put my fucked up needs front and center, gambling with my life, and now I’ve lost. Everything. I knew her dad had done a number on her. I knew she hated him for how he lived his life. And I was there when he died and saw what it did to her. She is a prideful and stubborn creature, and she hides her pain well, but I know her like the back of my hand. I saw the pain of him dying without her getting answers or closure. And now I’ve betrayed her in the worst possible way.
How could I have been so careless? I controlled every interaction with Monica—the where, the when, the how. I initiated contact. Not her. I made it clear that she wasn't allowed to call me and could only reply when I sent her a message. That way, I could keep it on my terms and keep the ugliness away from Alexis.
So why did I not block her? Easy. I panicked.
Bringing my phone up to my face, I text again, even though all my previous ones have gone unread.
