I push up and brush off the foam, before padding into the bathroom. The little room is filled with steam. Sean is standing silently in the shower with his head down and the water beating over his neck. I can see his outline when I walk in. He doesn’t move or look over at me.
I make sure the doors are locked and pull open the curtain. He won’t meet my gaze. “Sean?”
“I shouldn’t have done that.” His voice is level, even. There’s no hint of remorse even though his words were an apology. He’s shutting down, and locking me out. I won’t know what’s going on inside his head if I don’t jump in now. It might already be too late.
I don’t know what to say so I start talking. “You don’t have to fix everything by yourself. We made a mistake.”
This makes him glance up at me. The water runs down his cheeks and shoulders. There’s no expression on his face. I can’t read him at all. There’s no clue to what he’s thinking other than his words. “It was my error, not yours.”
I step into the shower with him. “Maybe it wasn’t a mistake. Maybe it was something else. I liked it last time—the time in the elevator. The feelings were similar, but this time they derailed. I don’t understand why.”
Sean closes his eyes and turns away from me. He rinses off and tries to step out, but I grab his wrist. I flash my ring at him. “I’m going to be your wife, remember? We take chances together and when they don’t work out, we fix them. This didn’t work. I need to know why.”
Sean doesn’t look at the ring. He just stares at me with that arrogant look in his eye, like he knows but won’t tell me. “No, you really don’t. We won’t do it again, so put it out of your mind.”
He tries to pull away, but I don’t let him. “Sean!”
“Avery, not now. Don’t push this. Leave it alone.” The steadiness in his voice is gone. There’s a slight tremor, a warning note to let me know not to push him, but I have to. I can’t let it go.
“Just tell me.”
“You don’t need to know.”
“Like Hell I don’t! Do you even know what I just gave you? You owe it to me! Tell me what I did wrong!” I’m yelling in his face, ready to cry.
Sean’s shoulders square and I know I won’t get an answer from him. I turn on my heel quickly and drag the curtain closed, before pressing my forehead to the wall. The tile is cold against my skin and the water disguises my tears. I don’t sob, but I can’t stop the rest. It feels wrong.
A moment later the curtain opens. Sean’s voice is soft. “It wasn’t you, Avery. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m—I
fucked up.” I turn slowly, but avoid his eyes. My arms are wrapped around my middle as the water pounds over me. Sean continues, “Sometimes I can’t sort between the past and the present. I don’t want to hurt you, and the truth will hurt you more. I don’t want to say the rest. I mean, I don’t think I should.”
I lift my chin and meet his somber gaze. Shaking my head, I press him, urging, “Let me in.”
“Not this time, Avery.”
“You were somewhere else. I was someone else. If you say it, if you admit it, it’ll stop. Purge your soul, Sean. Just do it. Whatever I’m going to imagine is going to be worse than what you were thinking anyway.”
Sean just shakes his head and turns from me with his jaw locked tight. Whatever past he was reliving, it terrified him as much as it terrified me.
The rest of the afternoon passes slowly. I try not to think about what happened, but the box is still in the room and it reminds me. I close the lid and shove it to Amber’s side of the room before laying on my bed. We’re waiting for death to come knocking. I wonder how mental I am that I don’t care. My life is so out of control, so completely messed up, that I welcome the knock. I won’t jump off a ledge or anything, but I hurt so much… I just want it to stop.
Sean doesn’t say much. He’s upset with himself, of that I’m certain. He’s on my computer, doing God knows what, when he finally asks me, “Were there more videos from the sexting client that weren’t deleted?”
My eyes cut across the room to the little desk, and I sit upright on my bed. “Yes. Why?”
Sean’s lips are pressed together. “Come see.”
“I don’t care.” I stay on my bed and lay back down. So what if another video of me is out there? That’s the least of my problems at the moment.
“I need to know if it’s a copy or if this was from a different time.” Sean’s voice is tense.
I push up and walk over to him before glancing past his shoulder at the screen. Sean presses play and I don’t know what I’m looking at. It’s very dark, too dark to make out faces, but I know it’s me. The floor of my stomach drops. “I didn’t record that.” As the video continues, I see me having sex with someone, but there’s no face—just a naked back. He’s in my room, on my bed, slamming his hips into mine. My hands fly to my mouth as I try not to scream because I don’t remember doing that at all. “Who is that? Where’d you find this?”
“It’s online on some no name website with a low ranking. It doesn’t seem like he’s used it yet. Are you sure you didn’t do this? I mean, I know you had other clients. You don’t have to spare me, Avery.”
I smack the back of his head. Sean winces and turns quickly before I can do it again. “No! I’m not a goddamn slut! I know who I slept with and I don’t know who that is. I haven’t had sex with anyone in this room, besides you.”
“I had to ask. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Sean makes a copy of the video and hits replay, watching the damn thing over and over again on mute.
I finally ask, “What are you doing?”
He doesn’t say anything for a while. When he turns around he says, “This is me. Someone edited it and put in a different guy.”
“How can you tell?” I look at the video over his shoulder.
“There are a few spots where he didn’t take out my hand. See?” Sean stops on a frame and I can make out his ring on his finger between the bed sheets. “Fast forward a frame or two and it’s gone.”
“How’d you even find this?” I’m staring at the screen wondering who would make a fake sex video of me, but that’s the question I ask.
“The IP address matched an email I received a while back. The letter was nice enough, but it just seemed off. I’ve been digging around looking for more to pop up, but nothing did—until now.”
“Do you think it’s Henry?” I ask nervously.
Sean shakes his head. “Does it look like Henry?”
“It wouldn’t have to be him in the video.”
“No, Henry Thomas had a crush on you. If he made this, he would have used his own image and made things more
visible. He would have emailed it to me to show off his trophy. This isn’t like him.” Sean stares at the screen for a while longer, silent.
I go back to my bed and lay down. My phone chirps. There’s a message from a number I don’t recognize, but I know it’s from Mel.
B SAFE. U OWE ME A STACK WHEN THIS SHIT IS DONE.
I text back.
K. IHOP IT IS.
I want to ask her where she is and if she’s all right, but I know better. This is safer. Some lunatic is trying to kill me. If they’re trying to clean up their mess, they’ll be after Mel too.
Sean doesn’t ask who I’m texting. Instead, he comes and sits next to me on the bed. He changes the conversation. “No sex for a while, okay?” His voice is too serious to be joking.
I don’t like it. I want my Sean back, the one that’s all smiles. “Okay, but what am I supposed to do with my camel-toe couch?”
He grins and bumps his shoulder into mine. “I need to work some things out, so what happened today doesn’t reoccur. Give me a little time, if you can.” Sean has his hands clasped in front of him and is looking down. His dark hair obscures his eyes and the slant of his shoulders lets me know how upset he really is.
“Sean, I love you. I’d give you anything and everything.” I put my arm around him, but he flinches. My smile fades as I take my hand back and slip it into my lap. “No touching? Sean, talk to me. Please
.” I can help you
. Those are the words I so desperately want to say, but I wonder if I can. What if I can’t and I just make it worse. Whatever happened today, whatever past he slipped into is a reality that he wants to erase. But the past can’t be wiped clean. There are no do-overs and the chalk outline will always be there no
matter how many times we try to wipe it away.
“One day, Avery, just not today.” He won’t lift his face. I think I finally understand what he means, although it isn’t what he says.
Whatever he did, whatever happened in the past, he can’t admit it to himself yet—so he can’t tell me. Not yet. “Okay, but I’m going to have trouble with the no touching thing.”
“That won’t last long. It’s the aftershocks.” He finally turns his head and looks into my eyes. “You’re amazing. I don’t deserve you. I know I don’t.”
I offer a lopsided smile and resist the urge to throw my arms around him. It’d be like setting off a bomb and he’s already covered in shrapnel. Why do good intentions turn to crap?
Stop it. Stop feeling sorry for yourself.
There she is, that voice within me—the part of me that’s sick of complaining and excuses—she’s the savage part of me,
comprised of a drop of animal instinct combined with raw rage that’s kept me alive this long.
Everyone steps in shit. They keep walking and it comes off. Move, Avery. Let Sean deal with his crap and you deal with yours.
My spine straightens and my voice is more certain when I speak. “We deserve each other. There’s no one I’d rather be with—ever. Get used to the idea, because I’m not changing my mind.”
We pull out Monopoly, the world’s longest game, and eat Amber’s bitch stash. It’s mostly chocolate and carbs. I’m starving, but Sean doesn’t want to order pizza or leave the room. No one saw him sneak in and he’s hoping the delivery didn’t mess up his plan.
As I stuff a Hershey bar into my mouth, I glance at Amber’s bed. “Where the hell is she?” Normally I’m glad when the roommate from hell is gone for this long, but she usually stops in and whines, before going back out. I haven’t seen her yet.
Sean moves his little silver shoe and goes straight to jail. His dark eyes lift to meet mine. “That feels like an omen.”
“Maybe we should pull out her Ouija board.” I glance at Amber’s bed again.
“I thought you said she didn’t come back every night.”
“She doesn’t, but it’s day time. Trolls have to hide during the day. It’s a state law.” I move my thimble and draw a card. “Fork over $50. I won a beauty pageant.” I strike a pose and giggle.
Sean tosses me the paper money. “This would be more fun with real currency. Who the hell wins $50 at a beauty pageant anyway? That’s like winning 50 cents.”
“Nah, you’d be out at least $450 on a dress. Unless it’s a birthday suit contest. I don’t think the Monopoly man hosts those kind of events.”
Sean sniggers and rolls. No doubles, so I go again while his shoe hangs out in the slammer. “So, what’s the plan?”
Sean’s eyes dart away from mine as he leans back on his elbow. “There is no plan.”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” I move a few spaces and pay $2 in rent.
Sean takes the money from me. “Wow, thanks for this. I’m rich.”
“Snob,” I tease.
“Am I so out of touch with reality? Very well, Miss Smith, where can I find boarding for $2?”
“There’s a lovely box that I’m subletting.” I hold out my arms like a game show hostess toward the corner of the box by Amber’s bed.
He tosses a little plastic house at me. I make a face and start to peg him with hotels. “That wasn’t nice, Mr. Jones!” As I say it, I take the bank tray, stand, and dump it on his head. All the fake money flutters around him. A $500 bill sticks to his shirt and another is in his hair.
Sean grins. “Now I feel better.”
I chuckle and wish that I could pounce on him and tickle him until he cries, but I keep my seat. I’ll have to wait until he’s ready to touch me again. I hate waiting. “Oh, good. Then here, have some real
estate too.” I lean forward and start tucking cards in his shirt and then put another behind his ear and then another in his pocket.
Sean grabs my wrist before I manage to touch him. He immediately realizes that I wasn’t going to touch him and drops my hand. “Sorry.”
I shrug. “Don’t be.” After a moment of silence, I add, “I won’t hurt you, Sean.”
He sits up and pinches the bridge of his nose, like he has a massive headache. “Avery I need to tell you something.”
Before he can say more, there’s a knock at the door. Our eyes meet and hold for a second before Sean jumps up and slips into Amber’s closet, again. It’s next to the door and slightly behind it. A second knock doesn’t come. Instead, the metallic sound of a key slips into the lock.