His Wounded Light (17 page)

What happened afterwards will replay in my head over and over again for the next few years. It was the best night of my life and the worst night of my life. She didn’t have to spend the night with me, but she risked being accused of cheating on her fiancée to hold me for a few hours, to thank me for the time I spent in her life.

I knew it was over after she stopped me from touching her. After all, it wasn’t like her not to want me. She no longer needed me to fill her up the way she so desperately craved in the past. She talked me through her feelings, how it happened, how and why she chose him over me. It was the best night of my life because she made sure I knew that she was mine and only mine for the past seven years. That night, she was no longer mine. Her heart was gone. She had given it to someone else.

I hated myself for falling asleep when the morning came and she had to leave. I didn’t argue with her then; I didn’t beg her to stay. Her mind was made up and she was ready to promise herself to him. I sank into hopelessness as soon as she walked out that door, and for the next eight hours, I cried tears of regret. There were so many words I had yet to say to her but she was gone and there was no turning back. I still believed that she loved me. She told me herself as we lay together that night. Was it her sense of commitment that made her think she had to go through with the wedding? Her desire to be accepted by her family? By her grandparents? I needed to tell her that all that didn’t matter.

That’s why I showed up at the ceremony.

When she begged me to let her go because she loved him and only him, it was clear that leaving her would show the world just how much I truly cared.

It was the worst night of my life. She took her light away from me forever.

I just had to set her free.

***

“My mother groaned, my father wept, into the dangerous world I leapt.”

—William Blake

I couldn’t believe I was there. In Chicago. On the 9th floor of a hospital maternity ward no less, staring through the glass of the nursery at a beautiful baby boy. He was swathed tightly in a blue and white blanket, an obnoxious “Baby Ailey” label displayed prominently on the top corner of the bassinet. I think that’s what you call those little clear bucket things they put babies in. It said that he was born at seven pounds. How did that thing fit inside my poor little Issy’s body? I started to play a game in my mind based upon the fact that the baby was bald.
He could be mine.
What if his hair turned out to be brown instead of blond?

“What the fuck?” A low booming voice interrupted my thoughts. “Cain! What the hell?”

I didn’t react. “How is she?” I asked as if we were two old friends catching up on life.

“What are you doing here, Cain?” He came up to me and pushed me back with his fists. “Get out. You’re not welcome here.”

Did I really expect any less from him?
I brought my face close to his and muttered under my breath. “This is a public place, Ailey. Anyone can be here. Now get away from me before this gets ugly.”

He calmed down a bit shortly after that. I’m sure it’s because he wanted to know what I was really doing there. He walked towards the door to the nursery, hesitated, and then turned to address me. “Why are you here?”

“I had to see her. I was in LA on business and Ali said she was having a difficult labor.”

“Twenty-eight hours. They finally performed a C-section.” He glowered at me, his eyes cold and steely as he held his shoulders back and took a stand. “You can’t see her. This is my life, Cain. Don’t fuck with it.”

I don’t really know why I flew all the way there to see her. I freaked out when I heard that she was in labor and that the baby was suffering from distress. My impulse was to run to her despite knowing that she had a husband who loved her and who would do anything for her. Ailey’s reaction was expected. Hell, I’d do the same if she was my wife and her ex showed up after my son was born. I didn’t push it, I just bowed my head and left. But not before I saw him enter the nursery and gently cradle his son in his arms. He bent over to kiss his baby’s forehead and my breath caught at the sight.
He has her baby. She will never leave him.
And as I walked towards the elevator, away from the long hallway with glass walls, I saw her. What others may have seen as a tired and drawn new mother wearing the ugly green hospital gown, I saw as the most radiant and serene woman in the world, one who wore a big smile as she approached her husband and their new child.

“Jesse, tell me, are you in Chicago?” My mother had left me three messages which were urgently delivered to me by the front desk as soon as I returned to the Palmer House hotel.

“Ma.” I answered, evasively. I paced the room looking for the bar key to pour myself a drink.

“Don’t ‘Ma’ me, Jesse Lorenzo. Are you in Chicago?”

Oh my God. She hasn’t called me that since I was eight years old.

Found it. I opened the bar and pulled out a mini bottle of vodka. “Yes.”

“Why? Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“She was in distress during labor. I had to see her.”

“Oh, Jesse.” Her voice is tinged with sadness. “What happened when you got there?”

“Ailey was in the nursery. I saw the baby. We had some words and then I left.”

“So you didn’t see her? Isabel?”

“I saw her from afar.” Her beautiful face flashed in my mind. My heart still hurt to think of her.

“Jesse. You have to give this up. Honor the sacrament of marriage, son. She isn’t yours anymore. Show some respect for her husband.”

“HER HUSBAND?” I raised my voice. “He stole her away from me and I have to worry about
him
?”

“You’re upset and being unreasonable. Listen to me. Take the next flight back to LA and leave that family alone. They’re a family now, one that you’ll also have someday. Please, leave her be.”

I wasn’t about to argue with my mother. I knew that everything she said was right and most importantly, I wanted to get her off the phone.

“You’re right, Ma. I’m sorry. This was an impulsive move on my part. I’m taking the first flight out tomorrow morning. I’ll see you back at home in three days.”

***

“I’m happy in a different way. I’m content. You can never replicate the feelings of a first love, Jesse. The passion, the elation, the sorrow, the pain. When it’s the first time, everything is so much more magnified. You feel like it’s the end of the world when you’re not together. A second love is more subdued. It’s more careful, more cautious. But it’s still love and when it comes with respect and admiration and friendship, it trumps passion and elation any time.”

—Isabel to Jesse, The Light in the Wound

“So, you’re not attending the signing tomorrow, right? You’d better tell me if you are, Jesse. I’d like to be there with her if you plan to go.” Alicia’s tone was stern and unconvinced.

“I’ve got a day trip to Macau all planned out and I can’t miss it, so no, I won’t be there. Don’t worry,” I said reassuringly. Another lie I had to make in addition to ten years of false pretenses. I had to do it. We were meeting to close on a franchising agreement between her mother’s company and my chain of restaurants. It was something that I really didn’t have to attend, but I’d be damned if I didn’t take this opportunity to come face to face with her. Alone. Isabel never liked surprises and she sure as hell wouldn’t want to be alone with me. She was going to be guarded and defensive and that was last thing I wanted her to be.

A few minutes before the signing, I stared blankly at the street from the glass window of my office on the 60
^th
floor, watching the cars and trucks go by, looking like ants on the ground. Minute and inconsequential. From high above the clouds of love, this was my reality without her. She was in the building by then—I sensed her, felt her presence. I was breathless and excited and nervous as hell. Once again, I was lost in painful thought as I remembered that last night. Her wedding. She was the most beautiful bride I had ever seen. Through the years, I took refuge in the fact that she looked beaten and sad even as she said goodbye to me. Her empty eyes gave me hope.

“
Run away with me, Issy. I still love you.”

When I saw her at her mother’s funeral after ten years apart, all I thought about was my need to grab hold of her hand, to touch her dainty fingers, those fingers that were once mine. She hadn’t aged a single day in ten years. In fact, she exuded a self confidence that made her all the more desirable to me. I missed her so much. If she only knew. Ten years later and I was still broken and dead.

Lord knows how much I tried to forget. Success is a funny thing. You can’t really enjoy it when you’re empty. Your heart is a bottomless sinkhole that swallows up everything and anything that it ingests and yet nothing can fill it. There’s no sense of accomplishment; everything is meaningless. Only her love can seal the drain in my heart. She’s filled his life for almost ten years. It’s my turn now. Why should I care about what the fuck it will do to him when
he
stole her away from
me
in the first place? He didn’t even give her time to catch her breath. He didn’t even give her a chance to forgive me.

The night of her wedding, I prayed with all my might that a natural disaster would reduce everything to rubble, that the end of the world would come and devastate everything in its way. The church, the country, him. Instead, the universe destroyed me. My desperate pleas were never answered. Unimportant things were thrown at me to make up for the loss of my life. They didn’t help.

Jesus. Didn’t I tell her not to transfer any calls to me?
I walked over to my desk to pick up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi, it’s me, Victoria.”

“Hey.” It sucked that this woman’s intuition was right on. All the time.

“Just calling to make sure you’re okay, Jesse. I know you’re seeing her today.”

“In a few minutes, as a matter of fact. I’m just going over the last minute details to make sure I don’t have any concerns—”