Life Plus One Read online

“We’re married. This is it for me,” I say, my voice cracking from disuse. It’s 2 a.m.

  “Why does that sound like a death sentence when you say it?”

  “It was the right thing to do.” I roll to face her.

  Her face is lit with moonlight. Her blond hair cascades over her shoulders in long waves. She looks ethereal—a figment of my imagination. A woman I should be worshipping. Not getting used to the idea of loving. A small smile appears on her full lips.

  “I’ll get there.” I grin back and lay my hand on her stomach.

  I asked her father for permission after I asked Norah for her hand in marriage. He knew right away she was pregnant. Norah is in career mode. Nothing would force her from that path except for one thing. “It’s not an arranged marriage, Ben. You shouldn’t have to try,” she replies, laying her hand on top of mine. “When did you see Harper last? That’s why you’re so sad.”

  “Seeing Har—her isn’t a good idea and you know it, Norah. Don’t say stupid shit like that. I’m doing what I think is right. What I want.”

  “At my expense. I don’t want a marriage like this. You remember when I met your parents and they ended up talking about her? After, I told you I felt like I knew her even though I’d never met her?”

  I nod. I can’t think of Harper let alone see her or talk about her.

  “Because you are so entwined with her you’ll never disentangle yourselves. I don’t want to be the interim wife you married to keep your intent pure just to have this crash and burn later on when you realize Harper is marrying someone else.”

  Jealousy, heavy and green, enters my chest and forces my heart to beat quicker. Norah is right. She’s always right when it comes to Harper. “I love you. She can do what she likes. Can we get some sleep now?” I rub her stomach when the baby kicks.

  “She’s awake. I can’t sleep when she’s beating on my ribs.”

  I chuckle. “I guess I have you to thank for this deep, middle of the night, conversation, huh?” I say, lowering my voice for the baby. “Go to sleep, baby Robin. Let your Mommy get some rest.”

  Norah laughs. “We haven’t decided on her name yet.” Pulling my face up to look at hers, she says, “One last thing.” It scares me when she looks this deep. It makes me feel like she can see inside my soul, like she knows all of the promises I give her are dependent on something neither of us can control.

  “Huh?” I ask, swallowing hard.

  “Don’t let me be the last to know. Not like last time. When you go back to Harper, give me some notice so I can prepare myself. Get my life together. For me and for her.” She rubs her stomach.

  I grimace. “That’s sick. Don’t talk like that. How can you live like that? One foot in and out of the door. Both of my feet are here. With you. Our life.” I pat her belly for good measure.

  Her eyes get glassy and it’s accentuated by the blue light pouring in the window. “Your heart is most definitely on the other side of the door. Feet don’t matter.”

  She wiggles her cold toes against my legs and I jolt. I pull her into my arms and hug her close. Pressing a kiss on top of her head, I close my eyes. “I made the first right decision of my life the day I married you.” It’s not a lie. All those times in my past I could have had Harper are my cross to bear and it’s painful to watch Norah deal with my mistakes. “I love you guys.”

  The fucking mirror catches my eye when I open my eyes. This isn’t a bottle of lotion prickling my skin, this is a motherfucking ghost haunting my soul. “Try to get some sleep. I’ll sing the lullaby Robin likes.”

  Norah nods against my shoulder and sets her head on the pillow. I scoot down, so my feet are hanging off the bed, and sing the song I created for the baby. My voice is low and raspy, but she stops kicking as soon as the first verse is out.

  Robin bird, Robin bird, I’ll sing to you so sweet.

  You fly in the sky and you’re mine always to keep.

  Robin bird, Robin bird, you were born to soar.

  The clouds and the sun aren’t enough, you want more.

  Robin bird, Robin bird, the stars and the moon are too far.

  Stay with me here for a while, but always be who you are.

  Robin bird, Robin bird, I’ll give you my all.

  Robin bird, fly high. Soar free. Never fall.

  “We can name her Robin,” Norah whispers into the dark.

  Sliding back up to my pillow, I cradle her face in my hands. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll be gone when you wake up,” she says, smiling. “I have to check on a patient at five a.m.”

  “Sleep well,” I reply, kissing her forehead. “I’ll call you when I get up. I’m leaving for Arizona mid-morning.”

  Norah nods, rolls over, sighs contentedly, and falls asleep in a matter of minutes.

  ++++

  Tahoe is next to me, grumbling about his gun. Our Pelican Cases that contain all of our equipment are being loaded into our private plane. “Motherfucking thing isn’t sighted in properly.” He’s eyeing the scope.

  “Looks like you won’t be killing anyone today,” I joke. We have multiple guns, but we all have a favorite. I’m at ease this morning—existing in the area of mental Harper blocks. “What are you thinking? Twenty-four hours tops?” I’d really like to be home for the weekend.

  “Who knows? They said there could be a few quads,” he says, grinning.

  I realize it’s quite wrong of me to be disappointed, because that means it will take longer, and I don’t even care. At this point, this is merely a job. One I enjoy for the moral benefits and the brotherhood. The excitement and thrill isn’t too shabby either.

  I’m screwing around with my kit, a pair of pliers in my hand when my phone buzzes from my pocket. Pulling it out, I see it’s my mom asking me to call her when I get a chance. She wants to have us over for dinner. The plus about this whole fucking mess is no one except Harper and I know exactly how atrocious the start was. My parents were shocked as hell when I said I was marrying Norah. They softened when they realized she was pregnant—that I was manning up. My father clapped me on the back and gave me a smile that looked more like a grimace.

  Harper’s parents were more upset. I think her mom even cried. She excused herself to the kitchen after I mumbled the words. It made my stomach hurt. She looks like Harper. She knows Harper. The pain transfer was evident. This is how Harper truly feels about my marriage. Not proud. Sad. Horrified that our bad fucking timing really did screw any chance we ever had for happiness. I text her back that hopefully Sunday we’ll be over for dinner.

  She texts back that Harper is going to be there, too. “Fuck!” I yell.

  “You scared me, pussy. What’s the deal?” Tahoe barks.

  Macs and Smith, two other SEALs, walk by and shake their heads at my outburst. Macs mumbles something about getting my shit together. Shit ruins missions. Ask any SEAL. As elite a force as we are, we’re also only human. With lives and loves, and pregnant wives we aren’t in love with, will probably never be in love with. We have friends we’re in love with that we’ll have to be around for the rest of our lives even though it shreds our souls.

  Groaning, I tell him. As quietly as possible. “It’s complicated,” I finish the story.

  Tahoe grins, his toothy white smile seeming more like a kill face than a comforting gesture. “You have the least complicated issues of any of these fuckers. You realize that, right?” He nods around to our brothers. We all have our share of highs and lows, but at the moment I don’t see how any of them can compete with the utter shit show that has become my life.

  I pocket my phone. “You’re insane. I married her. I’m fucking married.” Remember what I said about repeating the mantra? Obviously saying it out loud doesn’t work either. It still tastes like chalk.

  “I don’t know why you went and did that,” Tahoe says, cradling his gun in his lap, cleaning it before he packs it away. “A rash solution to a bad decision.”

  “What’s the bad decision?” I ask, narrowi
ng my eyes. He knows more about my situation than anyone else. I think it’s because he keeps his relationship such a secret that him meddling in all of ours seems natural. He’s a Yoda. A killing machine masquerading as a love whisperer.

  “Letting her go,” he says, meeting my gaze. “That’s one you’ll never live down. It’s 2017, you don’t have to marry your baby momma anymore. You be a father. I don’t peg you for a deadbeat. You have some religious hang-ups I’m not aware of?” he asks. It’s an honest question. He’s trying to understand.

  Shrugging, I say, “It seems crazy to even me. The thing is, doing the right thing regardless of cost is sort of my thing. It’s why I’m not already married to Harper with a basketball team of kids right now. I joined the Navy instead of going to college with her. Do you know how many times a day I think about what could have been? How happy I’d be right now if I’d made a different decision? Then feel guilty for thinking it because I love my job. And I love my baby girl.”

  “How’s that fair to Norah?”

  I shake my head. “It’s not. It hurts her more than me because she knows. Dude, every day I wake up and she’s in my bed I think how lucky I am she agreed to marry me.”

  “She’s either stupid in love with you or just stupid,” Tahoe replies. “If she knows you’re in love with another woman she won’t be surprised when you tell her you don’t want to be married. You’ll be a good dad regardless. So many of these guys have kids from other marriages that they make work. Your morals and obligations don’t change because your love is aimed at a woman who isn’t her mother.”

  “I need to get over Harper.”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  I’ve thought long and hard about this and the only way to not love Harper Rosehall is to be indifferent. “Not think about her,” I reply. “Or look at her. Blame her for this mess in the first place.”

  Tahoe chuckles and it sounds like tits cutting glass. “Some moral high ground you’re on. Blaming her for your indecision. I take it back, you’re more fucked up than they are. Keep up the twisted game. Soon your daughter will be here to see it. That will be fun.”

  “Fuck you, Tahoe.”

  Closing his case, he stands to walk toward the plane. Over his shoulder he says, “You only get one ride, bro. Make sure it’s one with horsepower.”

  I board after him and fall into my own row. The window shades are up and shining morning light. I close them to darkness. Deep down I know how wrong I was to marry Norah. Harper didn’t stop it. She watched me commit the treasonous act without a word. The engines start and I take out my phone. I should text Norah. Or even my mom to respond to her last message. I text Harper instead. See you at dinner Sunday.

  The gray bubbles pop up as she goes to reply, but it disappears as she deletes what she was going to say. I write her a message in notes, but don’t send it.

  You loved me enough to let me break my own heart.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Harper

  Heartbreak tastes like bad curry and vomit laced with battery acid. Despite what everyone keeps telling me, I won’t get over this. I work to merely forget the wedding even took place. Ben doesn’t call or text and I talk to his wife more than him. Every time I see her with her rounding belly containing Ben’s child it’s like an electric current of envy. I want her stomach. Her baby. Her life.

  I made my choices and he made his, and even if they’re bad choices, Norah made hers. The day she married Ben she was well aware we were still in love with each other. It’s sort of morbid. Like a Shakespeare play where everyone dies, including the animals. She wants to change Ben. Or change his feelings. She says he’s excited about the baby and I believe her. He’s always wanted a bunch of kids. He was never the boy to shy away from playing house with me. He was a great dad to my baby dolls. Guess that’s all I’ll ever see him father in my life. Bad curry. Battery acid.

  My stomach roils. I look out the window of my new house. It’s a new construction build that cost more than I ever thought I’d be able to afford. I’ve saved for so long it was a beautiful moment that I could finally show something for my years of hard work. It’s not anything grand, but it has a porch that wraps all the way around the house and hardwood floors. My voice echoes off the walls when I speak on the phone and all of the bedrooms except mine are void of furniture.

  Marcus came over when I moved in. I almost didn’t open the door when I saw his face through the peephole, but Martina was over helping me decide what to do with the back patio, so I was confident enough to deal with him. He apologized, and he didn’t make a move to step over the threshold. He looked sincere, and for a moment I thought maybe I could be with him again if he asked. Like, maybe I could erase the horrible night he accused me of loving Ben more than him. Maybe if I married Marcus, I could go back in time and rid myself of the torture I feel at the thought of Ben and Norah in bed together. In their marital bed.

  I’m not an idiot, and in the end, I know nothing is going to take away the pain. Not even a DeLorean can fix my heart. I thanked him for stopping by and made small talk about his family. His brother is still living with him in our old place and his parents still ask how I’m doing. He made a point of telling me he saw Ben and Norah’s marriage announcement in the newspaper online. I wanted to ask if he was stalking it to see when I married Ben. I kept the catty thought to myself. I smiled, acted like I was happy for Ben, and excused myself back to Martina.

  He hasn’t come back since. I got a research job that pays well and he stayed at the college as an assistant professor. Martina heard through the grapevine he may head back to the northeast when his contract is over. I hope he does. The chapter is over and dead. Even as I closed the door on him, my cheek burned like fire, reminding me I made a good decision in stonewalling him. Martina is over again this morning before work. She’s helping me make some final decorating decisions, and I think she’s worried about me being here by myself.

  “We’re going to fix you up with our friend Matthew,” Martina says, taking a sip of her coffee and tearing a page out of the Z Galleria magazine. She puts it in the stack with the other saved photos. “The chair in that one,” she explains, pointing to a chaise. “That was a definite. Buy it for the sitting room.”

  “I love that one,” I admit, taking the page for a closer look. “I’m not ready to date. God. The word is even scary. I don’t know men. I’ve only known one,” I tell her. “I didn’t even know Marcus after all those years of dating.” I’m starting to think I have something fundamentally wrong with me. I questioned myself in college, but now that I’m past that phase in life and should be on another level, I find myself floundering still. “Who’s Matthew?” I ask anyway. The prospect of having male company is appealing. I haven’t had sex since Ben, and I don’t want to think about that for fear of weeping in loss, or singeing from my toes up.

  She gives me the basics on Matthew, and he seems harmless enough. “I have dinner on Sunday at Ben’s parents’ house. They’ll both be there this week. I wonder how opposed he’d be to going out to dinner with me tonight or tomorrow and then accompanying me on Sunday.” I’m getting ahead of myself, but that’s a testament to my lack of dating.

  “I gave him your lowdown. I bet he’d be more than happy to accommodate. He’s a nice guy.”

  Nice. Those guys finish last. I don’t know any nice guys, so it’s probably time to try one out. I’m attracted to men who hit me and tear my heart into shreds by means of giving me everything one second and then stealing it away the next.

  “You have to be completely open, Harper. You’re ready?”

  “I have to be, don’t I?” I ask.

  Martina looks sad as she glances at me and then back at the magazine. She nods.

  I’m fine. “Give me his number and I’ll give it a go.” She opens her cell, scribbles his number on the corner of the magazine, and rips it out. “I’ll call after nine,” I say, looking at the clock. “He’ll know who I am?”

  “H
e’ll know,” she says, smiling. “This will be good for you. I hate the idea of you being by yourself so much. Come over for dinner tonight?” She stands, grabbing her purse. “You can help me make that recipe you were telling me about last week. Your mom’s.”

  “Yes,” I say. “That sounds perfect.”

  Martina hugs me, kisses my cheek, and leaves. I set my house alarm and head into the garage to leave for work. Only true, blue adults have coffee dates with friends before work because they wake up so damn early.

  My phone buzzes in my hand. Marcus. He’s not a person who uses his phone to make phone calls. He’s a text person. Answering quickly, I can tell by the pitch of his voice when he says ‘hi’ that something is terribly wrong.

  My heart sinks.

  ++++

  There’s always a first day and there’s always a last. I remember the last day in vivid clarity because it was my fault.

  After Marcus called me and asked me to come to the hospital I went. I’m not sure why, maybe I was feeling nostalgic after talking to Martina all morning. Perhaps it was the destruction in his voice, or pure stupidity for caring when I shouldn’t any longer. Instead of driving to my office in the city, I turned to go in the opposite direction. He didn’t give me any details on the phone, but no one can mistake terror when they hear it and Marcus was terrified. Darren was in an accident. That’s as much as I caught.

  There’s a hollow sort of feeling that accompanies tragedy. Even when it’s not your own. If you wear the empty like armor, you have a thin layer between you and destruction. It’s there for a reason even if you don’t realize it at the time. The day the attacks happened I had this same empty feeling. When my father told me my aunt died, I remember nodding, like he was telling me what he cooked for dinner. It wasn’t that I didn’t care, I cared deeply, but all my shock was used up. I cried myself to sleep the next night, and for a month after that, too. It was an emotional delayed response.

  The hospital is buzzing when I walk in—an unfamiliar destination that I try to avoid at all costs. After stopping by the front desk for a visitor sticker and a security screening, I head to the floor and area that Marcus directed me to. If the phone call was my first indication of how bad this situation is, the second is the heavily armed police officers standing outside of the room I’m supposed to be visiting.