Scream For me

It feels strange to share this moment with someone. A moment where we’re both so vulnerable, sharing things that we don’t share with anyone else. Especially since we’ve only known one another for a short period. I wonder if she feels what I feel. I wonder if she’s running from her feelings of losing her fiance and using me as shelter from them. It’s a thought that makes my stomach turn.

“Hey, what are you thinking?” She places her hands on either side of my face.

“Nothing.” The guilt of my growing feelings for her starts to rear its ugly head, a new feeling on its heels… resentment. Will I grow to resent Daphne for replacing Mira? Is that what I’m trying to do, replace her? I know it doesn’t make sense, but my brain won’t let me get around the thought.

“That doesn’t sound very convincing.” She’s staring at me, waiting for a response that I don’t give. “Did I say something? Is this because of Mirabelle?”

“What?” My eyes snap to hers. “Why the fuck would you bring her up?” My tone instantly grows sharp, making her flinch.

“I-I just thought since we were talking about our past and-”

“Did I mention her at all? No.” I stand up, moving her off me. “She is none of your business and I’m not interested in discussing her with you.” I hate that I’m reacting this way but it’s like I can’t stop it.

“But you can mention my fiance?”

“When did I mention him?” I almost spit the word him.

“Yesterday, you said you didn’t know I had a fiance after I told your parents about him. I’m not trying to pry about your late wife; I was simply asking if your instant mood change had something to do with her if I said something wrong that offended you.”

“Can we just drop it? I’m not interested in bonding with you over the fact we both lost someone.”

“Fine.” She sits back down, crossing her arms over her chest and looking out into the vast darkness.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” I soften my tone, “it’s just that there’s a difference between losing your wife and losing a fiance.”

“Excuse me?” She turns to look at me, her scowl deeper than before. “How is that not offensive?”

“Because it’s not the same, Daphne. We were married for several years; we have a child together.” I don’t know what point I’m trying to prove here but I’m only digging a deeper hole.

“So what, our love wasn’t as ‘real’ as yours because we didn’t have a legal document saying so or a child? That is absolute bullshit!” She stands up, pointing her finger at me, tears pricking her eyes.

“I’m just being honest about how I feel,” I say, attempting to defend myself even though she’s right. This is bullshit and coming from a place of anger and frustration with myself. Frustration because I can’t just admit to myself that I’m falling in love with this woman. Frustration at the fact that more than likely, her love with Carson was more real than mine with Mira.Content (C) Nôv/elDra/ma.Org.

“You know what,” she says, shaking her head, “I hate hearing that. Masking cruelness in the name of honesty is such a cop-out. I’m going to bed. Good night.” She turns on her heel and walks down the deck as I hang my head in shame.

I step toward the edge of the deck, grasping the railing. I look up at the inky sky filled with twinkling stars, my heart feeling like it’s about to rip through my chest. I’m terrified. Terrified that I wouldn’t know how to be there for Daphne the same way I didn’t know how to be there for Mira.

“I’m tired of fighting for your leftover attention, Wes. I’m tired of begging for scraps of your time. I feel like I’m merely a pretty object in your life that you can pull down from the shelf when you need it. I feel like I’m on the outside of your life looking in. I’m supposed to be your partner and I’m not. I’m just a prop.”

I remember one of the last fights we had before she got sick. She begged me to try harder. She told me that she was falling out of love with me and I could see that she was falling in love with someone else.

“I’m trying so hard to stay in this, to love you, but I can’t keep trying. I can’t force it anymore.”

“What are you saying?” I search her eyes for something, anything, but they stare back at me… empty.

“You know what I’m saying.”

“Is there someone else?” She doesn’t answer me; she doesn’t have to.

“Who?”

“Don’t do this. Just choose Wes, either me or your business. I’m tired of competing.”

She shut the door of the bathroom and that was the last night we slept in the same bed. I never asked her about the other man again. I found a love letter from him but after only a few lines, I stopped reading it. I saw the evidence of unfaithfulness, the hidden phone screens, and the sudden girls’ nights that didn’t end until the early morning hours.

Nobody knew, not even my parents, that we were on the verge of divorce when she was diagnosed. Nobody knew that she was having an affair either. I didn’t blame her; I still don’t. I’m the one who ran her into the arms of another man. But what I can’t decide is if I made a mistake by not letting her go to him. I was by her side while she was sick, up until the very end. I never knew who the other man was; she never told me. I don’t even know if she broke it off when she got sick or if she even told him that she was dying.

I live with so many regrets, but the truth is, if I had to do it all over, I still don’t know what the right way would have been to handle it. I hang my head. I can’t do the same thing to Daphne. She doesn’t deserve for me to take out my unresolved issues and anger on her. She did nothing wrong.

I slowly make my way through the boat, down the hall till I reach her room. I knock softly but there’s no answer. I open the door. The room is dark. I kick off my shoes, crawl into bed beside her, and pull her into my arms.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” I whisper against her ear as she pulls my arms tighter around her.