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Authors: Susan Ward
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and it makes dread move through my veins. There is only one
reason Alan would lie to me.
“How did you find out?” I whisper.
He shakes his head, eyes locked on a vacant space
in the room. “Is this really where you want to take us today, love? We’re
moving forward together. As friends. A good thing. Why take us back there?”
He looks as discomposed as I feel. Apprehensive.
Grim. But I can’t brush this under the carpet between us, though every cell in
my body warns that I shouldn’t take either of us back to that part of our
history. Alan is here. We may never be face-to-face again, and staring at him,
I am also positive I won’t ever have closure, not on this, unless I see this
through.
I take a moment to organize what I need to say
into a semicoherent speech. I make a snap decision. I move from my chair to
sink down beside him on the sofa. Close, but not touching.
“I know you just lied to me two minutes ago. You
didn’t go to Jack’s to tell me you loved me. That’s a lie, Alan, but I know you
lied because you don’t want me upset or anything. But I’m the one who decided
to discuss this. You don’t need to protect me from this. And I want to know who
told you about my abortion in April after we broke up and what you came to
Jack’s to say to me. I want to know. I want you to tell me today.”
Alan’s face snaps toward me. I’m not sure what
I’m seeing. “What the fuck are you talking about, Chrissie?”
The earth falls away beneath me. He didn’t know.
“I thought you knew,” I say, my voice breathy and
toneless.
His eyes are rapidly flashing as if he’s trying
catch up with my words. He looks almost in shock.
“Oh fuck. Damn it, Chrissie. Is that why you
called me so many times after Malibu? You were pregnant?”
I stare at him, mute.
“Damn it, answer me.”
I nod.
His eyes are blazing in a way I’ve never seen
before. I can’t look at him. Just feeling him beside me is almost unbearable
because there is something raging through him that I’ve never felt before in
Alan.
“Oh fuck,” he exclaims on a shuddering growl that
makes me jump. “This is all my fault. If I’d called you back you wouldn’t be
married to Neil now. If I hadn’t been so angry. If I had known…oh fuck.”
He seems unable to finish the train of his own
thoughts. When I finally look at him, he is sitting elbows on knees, face in
hands. I can’t begin to decipher what’s pulsing through him, what this reaction
is. It terrifyingly consumes the air around us both. The room is painfully
pulsing with Alan.
His eyes, burning and intense, lift to fix on me.
“Is that why you went back to Neil? Don’t lie to me, Chrissie. Is that why you
married him? Because I was a first class asshole and he was there for you? Tell
me the truth, damn it. Is that why you married him?”
The way he grinds out the words turns my insides
numb with fear. “It doesn’t matter,” I say after a long while.
His eyes flash. “It will matter to me for the
rest of my life.”
The force of his voice makes me jump again. And
his eyes. There is too much to see in them, even though I don’t understand
everything I’m seeing.
He seems shocked. Alarmed. Horrified.
I start to cry.
He lets out a deep, long, shuddering breath.
“Don’t cry, Chrissie. Please don’t cry.”
The tears come stronger. This conversation has
deteriorated in a way I didn’t imagine. I am breathing heavily, hurt, acutely
aware I’ve unleashed something tormenting and ugly in Alan, and that I’ve
probably fucked up even having a friendship with him.
My wounded eyes fix on him. “I didn’t know you
didn’t know. I assumed you did, that that was why you came to Jack’s party. I
would have never brought this up if I had known you didn’t know about the
abortion. I’m…sorry…”
I can’t get any more words through the lump in my
throat, and after a minute or two of my only getting more discomposed, Alan
pulls me against him, his face in
reason Alan would lie to me.
“How did you find out?” I whisper.
He shakes his head, eyes locked on a vacant space
in the room. “Is this really where you want to take us today, love? We’re
moving forward together. As friends. A good thing. Why take us back there?”
He looks as discomposed as I feel. Apprehensive.
Grim. But I can’t brush this under the carpet between us, though every cell in
my body warns that I shouldn’t take either of us back to that part of our
history. Alan is here. We may never be face-to-face again, and staring at him,
I am also positive I won’t ever have closure, not on this, unless I see this
through.
I take a moment to organize what I need to say
into a semicoherent speech. I make a snap decision. I move from my chair to
sink down beside him on the sofa. Close, but not touching.
“I know you just lied to me two minutes ago. You
didn’t go to Jack’s to tell me you loved me. That’s a lie, Alan, but I know you
lied because you don’t want me upset or anything. But I’m the one who decided
to discuss this. You don’t need to protect me from this. And I want to know who
told you about my abortion in April after we broke up and what you came to
Jack’s to say to me. I want to know. I want you to tell me today.”
Alan’s face snaps toward me. I’m not sure what
I’m seeing. “What the fuck are you talking about, Chrissie?”
The earth falls away beneath me. He didn’t know.
“I thought you knew,” I say, my voice breathy and
toneless.
His eyes are rapidly flashing as if he’s trying
catch up with my words. He looks almost in shock.
“Oh fuck. Damn it, Chrissie. Is that why you
called me so many times after Malibu? You were pregnant?”
I stare at him, mute.
“Damn it, answer me.”
I nod.
His eyes are blazing in a way I’ve never seen
before. I can’t look at him. Just feeling him beside me is almost unbearable
because there is something raging through him that I’ve never felt before in
Alan.
“Oh fuck,” he exclaims on a shuddering growl that
makes me jump. “This is all my fault. If I’d called you back you wouldn’t be
married to Neil now. If I hadn’t been so angry. If I had known…oh fuck.”
He seems unable to finish the train of his own
thoughts. When I finally look at him, he is sitting elbows on knees, face in
hands. I can’t begin to decipher what’s pulsing through him, what this reaction
is. It terrifyingly consumes the air around us both. The room is painfully
pulsing with Alan.
His eyes, burning and intense, lift to fix on me.
“Is that why you went back to Neil? Don’t lie to me, Chrissie. Is that why you
married him? Because I was a first class asshole and he was there for you? Tell
me the truth, damn it. Is that why you married him?”
The way he grinds out the words turns my insides
numb with fear. “It doesn’t matter,” I say after a long while.
His eyes flash. “It will matter to me for the
rest of my life.”
The force of his voice makes me jump again. And
his eyes. There is too much to see in them, even though I don’t understand
everything I’m seeing.
He seems shocked. Alarmed. Horrified.
I start to cry.
He lets out a deep, long, shuddering breath.
“Don’t cry, Chrissie. Please don’t cry.”
The tears come stronger. This conversation has
deteriorated in a way I didn’t imagine. I am breathing heavily, hurt, acutely
aware I’ve unleashed something tormenting and ugly in Alan, and that I’ve
probably fucked up even having a friendship with him.
My wounded eyes fix on him. “I didn’t know you
didn’t know. I assumed you did, that that was why you came to Jack’s party. I
would have never brought this up if I had known you didn’t know about the
abortion. I’m…sorry…”
I can’t get any more words through the lump in my
throat, and after a minute or two of my only getting more discomposed, Alan
pulls me against him, his face in
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