Leap (24 page)

“Mack, are these your friends?” The soft feminine voice takes me aback. Mack looks to his side and places his arm on the shoulder of the tall, voluptuous, stunning woman I’m familiar with. Not because Mack has dated her before, but because she’s the person who comes on my television every night at eleven.

“Aliza Davenport, let me introduce you to Owen Decker and Corrine Blanchard.” Aliza Davenport, the eleven p.m. anchor of the same news network that Mack is a correspondent with.

She extends her hand to me then to Owen, and it lingers in Owen’s hand longer than when she shook my hand.

“Pleasure meeting both of you. So how do you know Mack? Are you journalists?”

Mack speaks for us. “No, Owen is a defense attorney down in D.C. We went to BU together and Corrine and I grew up in the same neighborhood on Long Island.” No mention of my reason for being here. Just that I’m from
his
neighborhood. I shoot daggers at Mack and speak for myself.

“I’m a staff photographer for Metro Magazine. I’m here to receive an award.”

She returns with just a fake smile and a slight nod.

“Yes, Corrine is a photographer.” Cockily he tells her, “She’s quite talented, Aliza. From what I can remember.” His attitude makes me grab a hold of Owen’s hand, and I squeeze it till he quietly winces from the pain.

Like a classy woman, she politely replies, “Oh, how wonderful. Congratulations.” I thank her.

“Mack, we should be getting to our seats. They’ll be serving the first course soon. Pleasure meeting some of Mack’s friends. I hope we can chat again later.”

Before she has a chance to step away, Mack wraps his arm around Aliza Davenport’s tiny waist whispers something in her ear. She smiles and nods and walks away. Nauseous doesn’t even explain how I feel. Jealous isn’t even a strong enough word.

Owen steps a little closer to Mack.

“That was so uncool, man. Corrine didn’t deserve that. What are you trying to prove, Mack?”

Calmly, he says, “Step away from me, Owen. I have nothing to prove except that I’ve moved on with my life and it is what it is. Why don’t you tell
me
what you're trying to prove coming here with her?”

Owen takes one small step back and grasps my hand. “She needed someone and I wanted to be here for her. She needed me.” A smug look appears on Mack’s face, and he smooths the lapels on his tux.

“Are you sure it’s not the other way around, man. She didn’t need you. You needed her to want you. You’ve always wanted Corrine.”

Owen grabs a glass of champagne off the tray of a waiter passing by and hands it to me. Just the thought of drinking makes my stomach burn. The acid that’s inside is already churning.

“Maybe I have, friend. But she doesn’t want me. She never has. I’ve always been the stiff competition for what she really wants, Mack. Which is a shame for me and loss for you.”

I cringe and step away from both of them. I placing the champagne glass on a nearby table, only to knock it down in the process, making it shatter in a million pieces onto the exquisite marble floor below. The room grows quiet and all eyes are on me. My hand clenches my stomach and the air is nowhere around me. I feel the walls of the massive place shrinking all around me as I face Mack and see the horror on his face. My jaw drops. I have no words. Owen said them all for me. Too many words. Words I should have told Mack myself. Instead these two play the roles of who has the bigger cock. And I choke out “Excuse me.” I take off like Cinderella down the large staircase like she did leaving the Prince’s castle. But I’m not Cinderella, and this is no fairytale. The worst thing that was ever said, or that could ever happen, happened. I need to escape from this city. It causes nothing but suffering. I hail a cab whose drab, yellow color blends in with the undertones of the rotten streets that pave this hellhole. I need to go home.

PRESENT DAY

W
hen I think of all the things leading up to this moment, I know I wasn’t prepared for it. No matter how many times someone told me about the possibilities, I didn’t want to believe that this could have been the turnout.

The only light in my parent's living room is the glow from the television. I sit here as everyone else sleeps. Haven is upstairs in my room, snuggled beneath the covers without a care in the world except for liking boys and getting a pimple. She has no idea what is happening and what could be the conclusion to this nightmare.

Hundreds dead. A small village where they were keeping Mack was bombed. The last time we heard something about him, he was still there. Lt. Commander August called to tell us that they’re doing whatever they can to find out if Mack was moved before the bombing occurred and if there were any survivors. When the news of the attack came, we all did our best to go about like nothing was happening while Haven was around. We attended her softball game. The stares from bystanders were uncomfortable, but my dad told several people at the game that Haven knows nothing and please don’t discuss the events around her. They all seemed to understand, apparently. We had to give Jocelyn a Valium and she stayed home. We told Haven she had a migraine.

My dad ushered Haven off the field as soon as she was finished with her game. My mom took me home, and my dad took Haven out for ice cream. We checked on Jocelyn, let her sleep and went to my mom’s to switch on the news. The phone rang nonstop. Owen called several times while I was at Haven’s game. He was the first to call my mom's house. He was getting on the first plane out of D.C. to come here. Grace called and asked if Haven knew anything. When I said no, she told me that Jesus would want her to know that her daddy was with him now. I told her to go fuck herself and I hung up on her. She didn’t call back. Lizzy came over and held my hand. The details were so sketchy. We just watched the aftermath on the news.

When Haven and my dad came home, we shut it off. She asked where Jocelyn was several times. Excuse after excuse is what we gave. Jocelyn was heavily sedated. We wanted to leave it that way. The house was so quiet except for Haven, who went on and on about her class trip to go whale watching next week. We tried to put on brave faces. Me especially, because I needed to protect her from what may be. I made her take a bath, and she read
Charlotte’s Web
out loud. The sound of her voice gave me comfort. She asked why everyone was acting weird. I told her she was being silly and that everyone was just exhausted. As I covered her up with the sheet and blanket, I warned her no TV. She could listen to music but not to put the TV on. It wasn’t a request. She asked me if I was coming up soon to sleep with her, and I lied and said yes. I kissed her freckled cheek and told her how much I loved her.

My dad waited for me outside my door and helped me down the steps. When I came down, Jocelyn was there. Still in a fog but watching the smoke and the rubble on the screen. The helicopter views of the scene. Refugees running through the streets crying and screaming. Inside I was doing the same. Owen came in on the 9:10 from D.C. and took a cab right from JFK. I had him on one side holding my hand and Lizzie on the other doing the same. Not a lot of words were spoken. The phone rang a few more times but they were colleagues of Mack’s checking on me. We tried to get Jocelyn to drink some coffee but she wanted no parts. Eyes glued to the doom because all you could do was stare at the screen. Hoping and believing that Mack was not in any of those buildings that were blown up. Keeping my faith that Mack somehow got away. In my head, I just kept telling myself;
he got out. He got out. He got away. He wasn’t there.

It’s three a.m. now. Lizzie went home. Owen is asleep on the sofa across from me. Dad is in his easy chair. Mom is sleeping at Jocelyn’s to keep an eye on her, and I sit here. Looking at the same scene over and over again. And I pray. I pray so hard that things will be different in the morning. I have to believe that things will be different, but I’m so afraid to close my eyes because that would mean if I slept, a new day would come quickly, and I’m afraid of what exactly would be different.

MACK & CORRINE ~ THE NIGHT OF THE AWARDS GALA

I
n an evening gown, I find myself on the Long Island Railroad on my way to my parent's house. Drunks stare at me like I’m a high-priced hooker. Don’t they know a high-priced hooker wouldn’t be on the LIRR at eleven p.m.? Owen tried to call several times on my way, but I didn’t pick up. How could he say those things to Mack? Now he knows. How could I be so stupid? Owen sent me a text.

Corrine, I’m so sorry. I know you don’t want to talk to me but just let me know where you are and if you're ok. I stopped at your apartment and you weren't there.

I contemplated whether to answer him, but I can’t fully blame Owen. He was angry with Mack. He just wanted to stick up for me.

I’m fine, Owen. I know you're sorry but I need to be by myself.

Another text comes a second later.

Ok. Call me if you need me. I’m so sorry, Corrine. Forgive me.

Forgiven, Owen.

I power down my phone and rest my head against the raggedy headrest. I look out the window and see the towns pass by. At each stop, an announcement is heard overhead telling riders they have arrived at their destinations. When I arrive at Long Beach, I take my body and exit the train but not without whistles and catcalls. I ignore them and head down the steps from the platform. I can smell the sea air, which is different than smells of Manhattan.

I take a cab to my parent's house. I’m not walking the five blocks in four-inch heels.

My parents are in Albany visiting my Aunt Abby. Jocelyn is in the city watching Haven. My parent's house is dark as I find the hidden key under one of the planter boxes on the back porch. I switch on the entryway light and look around at my childhood home. It’s my home. It smells the same as it did when I was a kid. The wood floors beneath my feet are worn but have character. I dim the entryway light and lock the door. I slip off my heels and hang them from my fingers as I travel up the stairs to my room. I’m tired. Tired in my head, tired in my heart. Tired of thinking about loving someone who I thought was my world and could possibly love me in return. How could I be so fucking wrong? How?

I slip into my room and pull the cord on my old bedside table lamp. Everything in this room seems so old. On my old desk are pictures; on my wall, my diplomas hang. On another wall, a framed collage of different pictures I had taken of landscapes over the years. All black and white. Something about black and white. Between is gray, but you can’t always stay in the gray. Sometimes you have to choose. I’m choosing me. I’m the white, and the black is the life I had with Mack and Haven. I used to think if I stayed around and helped him raise her, he’d see me in a different way. He’d see past me being Rinny and see that underneath her was Corrine. A person who loved him for all the good he produced, and all his faults that came with him being the person he was. He would accept me and love me for me being me. He’d love me as a man loves a woman and see me as a mother to Haven. The girl I’d give my life for. I would do anything to protect her. Taking a bullet for her wouldn’t even do it. I’d bleed for her.

I change into an old BU t-shirt of Mack’s I found in a drawer. I take it out and bring it to my nose. It smells like both of us. The faint scent of whatever fragrance he wore last mixed with whatever I had on as well. I slip out of my dress and guide the t-shirt onto my body. I stand in front of the mirror behind my door when I close it. Who am I? I have to find myself. The only way I’m going to do this is if I get out of New York. I need a fresh start, a new beginning. I need to take care of me and think about me. Learn to love myself and not what I can do for other people. Trying to please people and doing for others is what I’ve been doing all my life. I sound like a monster. I know I do, but I need to be selfish. I’ll get another job in another city, in another state. I’ll drink more, eat bad, and spend money. I’ll do all the things everyone has ever told me not to do, and I’ll enjoy it.

I lie back on my old bed and smell the clean sheets I know Mae put on this morning. Even if I only sleep in this bed a few times a year, I know that woman changes the linens on this bed every week no matter what. This feels so safe to me. I’m tired. As I pull the cord on the lamp again shutting it off, I throw my arm above my head and tuck it behind. I look up and see the very faded glow-in-the-dark stars. They’re almost gone. Just a few remain. Over time, I’m beginning to discover that things fade. Things change. I never thought it would for Mack and me. I thought he’d always be in my life. Never gave thought to not being here for Haven. It was never an option for me. Now it has to be. It will kill me, but like those decaying stars, sometimes a light must go out and a new one has to be lit. For me, it’s that time.