Torn

Chapter 7

Your Call

It’s still early in the morning when I find myself at the beach. I park a few miles from the house I used to share with Ben and remove my Converse so I can feel the grainy sand that usually comforts me, but once again it doesn’t. As I walk along the shore, the tide rolls in and splashes of cold water prickle my skin. So many thoughts are running through my head. First and foremost: What the hell just happened?

I’m drawn to the water and wade in further and further until I am almost knee-deep. The salty air blows on my face and I take deep calming breaths wishing away the pain and turmoil I can’t seem to handle. As tears trickle down my cheeks, the salty scent of the sea air seeps into my nose. I stop and sit down in the cold water, now barely below my chin. Then I dive under and never want to surface. Life seems so tranquil down here.

When I come back up I make my way to the sand and just lay there. The beach is very quiet. Birds chirp peacefully as they soar overhead. I close my eyes willing myself to stop crying. I can’t even figure out who I’m crying for—Ben, River, myself?

I must have drifted off because suddenly I can hear small children playing nearby and feel the hot sun beating down on me. I get up and wipe as much sand off me as I can and then make my way back to the car. Looking behind me, I see the footprints I left vanishing as people jog by without a care in the world, and I wish I had that same carefree feeling, the feeling I had just last week.

I grab my sneakers and sweater at the beach entrance—the only dry things I have. I take my keys out of my Converse and shove them in my jeans pocket. I pull my sweater around me with shaky hands, try to shake the sand from my hair and hurry to the car, my head swimming with the unknown. I break into a sprint to get there, my bare feet crushing against the stones beneath me, but I don’t even care. I’m almost gasping when I reach for my keys. Leaning my head against the steering wheel, I try to figure out what to do, where to go. Glancing over at my phone, I just want to hear his voice, so I turn it on and check my messages.

There are four—Grace, Serena, Aerie, and an unknown caller, but none from River. I’m not surprised. I’m mad as hell at him for not telling me what he knew, for making me doubt his trust, but he was just as mad at me for going to see Ben. I’ve never seen him like that. I’ve never seen me like that. I listen to the messages—Grace telling me to turn around and talk this out, Serena asking if I’m all right and telling me she’s here for me if I need to talk, Aerie yelling into the phone to call her now, and the unknown caller, Ben, begging me to come back. Ben—the voice I hadn’t heard in so long until yesterday, the voice of the man I loved unconditionally, the voice of the man whom I had always trusted.

My eyes are stinging and my thoughts are even more of a jumbled mess than they were before I got to the beach. I stare blankly at the traffic as it rushes by on the now-busy Pacific Coast Highway. My heart thumps out of my chest as I turn the engine on and jerk into the lane of traffic almost haphazardly. I skid to a quick stop at the first traffic light. I am driving way too fast, but my head is swimming with memories. Cars are honking for me to move as the light turns green. I accelerate as fast as I can and head to the only place that comes to mind right now.

When I pull up in front of the yellow house with the white picket fence, the FOR SALE sign still occupies the front yard. The place is neglected, in need of some tender loving care, but still, right now, it is my refuge.

Needing dry clothes, I call the only person I can. She answers immediately and forsakes the niceties. “Where the hell are you and what’s going on?” she yells into the phone. In a much calmer tone she quickly adds, “Are you okay, Dahlia?”

She obviously already knows Ben is back, and I take one deep breath and contemplate what to say. “Aerie, I need some help. I’m at my house here in Laguna. Can you please bring me some dry clothes?”

I’m surprised when all she says is, “Sure, I can. I can be there in less than twenty minutes. Will you be okay until I get there? Grace called me this morning and told me everything. Dahlia, she told me Ben’s alive.”

“Aerie, let’s talk when you get here, okay?”

“Okay Dahlia, I’ll be there as soon as I can. I love you.”

I hang up the phone without another word and toss it into the console, open my door, and walk up the path to the house. A house I lived in with Ben, a house I mourned him in, and a house where I was close to giving up when life was breathed back into me by River. Now everything seems distorted, confused. When you trust someone and they break that trust—what does it mean? That’s what I have to figure out, that’s why I’m here—so I can think.

As I unlock the front door I hear the wind chimes that used to welcome me home and enter the almost-empty house. I see the few pieces of furniture left—our oversize sofa where it always has been, the coffee table, and the two chairs. The rug is gone, the lamps were broken during the break-in that destroyed nearly everything, and anything left was moved into Grace’s attic or to River’s house.

Shivering, I pull my knees up on one of the chairs and just sit there, trying not to think about Ben, but that’s all I can focus on. Remembering my life with him.

Before I know it, I hear pounding on the front door and Aerie is yelling, “Dahlia, are you okay? Why is the door locked?”

I hop off the chair, not even remembering locking the door. As I walk I glance at the old key-shaped holder Caleb rehung after the break-in and Ben’s keys are still hanging there. For some reason they make me feel uneasy. As soon as I unlock the door, Aerie swings it open, hurrying past the threshold with coffees and a bag in one hand. She looks almost as disheveled as me, in sweatpants, a T-shirt, her hair in a ponytail, and yoga shoes. I’m surprised because she never goes out looking so un-put together.

Grabbing the coffee tray from her hand I blurt, “What the hell happened to you?”

“Me?” She eyes me up and down once before continuing. “What happened to me?” She drops the bag to the ground and seems unable to talk for a few seconds. “What happened to you? Where have you been? Why are you soaking wet and covered in sand?” Her questions continue but I tune them out, really wanting to sip the hot coffee and strip off these wet clothes. Realizing I don’t want to talk about any of it, I almost wish I didn’t call her. She takes the tray from my hand and sets it on the floor, then immediately pulls me to her and hugs me as hard as she can. We both stand there, me almost a head taller than her, and I can’t help but cry.

She pulls back and looks at me. “I have been worried sick about you. Grace called me at six this morning assuming you were headed to my house. Then as the hours ticked by and you didn’t show up we all started to worry.” She wipes the tears from my face before wiping her own. When she brushes the sand from her clothes, I can’t help but laugh.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to get you dirty.”

We both laugh and the Aerie I know is back, the take-charge Aerie. “Where have you . . . you know what, let’s get you changed first, you’re shivering, and we can talk after.”

She starts leading me down the hall to my bathroom, like I don’t know where I’m going, and I follow her like I need to be led. Once we reach the bathroom she pulls out some sweatpants and a sweatshirt from the bag and lays them on the counter as she starts to unbutton the shirt I have on—River’s shirt.

Gently placing my hands over hers, I tell her, “I can do it. I don’t need help.”

Pushing my hands away she says, “Just let me do it, let me help you.” I move my hands and she continues to unbutton the wet shirt. A moment of comfortable silence passes. Then she says in a soft, concerned tone, “I’m sorry, Dahlia. I really am.” I know she isn’t apologizing for helping me get undressed.

Suddenly it hits me, the last time she did this was when she came to see me the night Ben was killed. I remember now, she removed my black cocktail dress that night because I couldn’t. Then she tossed it on the corner chair, where it stayed for a long time. “Aerie, this isn’t like then,” I pause and motion to where the chair in my bedroom used to sit. “I’m not going to fall apart like I did before. Sure I’m confused, but I know the situation is completely different.”

Pulling my arms out of the shirt, I point to the two items on the counter and ask, “Is that all you brought? No underwear?”

Staring at me a little too long she says, “Dahlia, I had no idea why I was bringing you clothes. I didn’t think to grab a bra or a pair of panties. Why are you soaking wet anyway?”

“I needed to escape all the chaos so I decided to go for a swim. You know swimming always clears my mind.”

“In your clothes, Dahlia? Really?”

“Yes, in my clothes.”

“You know that is not normal? Right?”

I shrug.

She shakes her head and takes the shirt from me that I just stripped off. I unhook my bra and throw it in the sink. She stares wide-eyed at the huge purple bruise that seems to have morphed from my side to the front and back of my torso.

“I’m okay, Aerie—really I am. I’m not going to fall off the deep end.”

I slip my arms into her USC sweatshirt and pull it over my head. She grabs the hem and pulls it down for me and I let her. Then she pulls my hair out of the hood.

“I think we need to get those tangles out, I’m going to grab a brush out of my purse. I left it in the car. I’ll be right back. Will you be okay?”

“Yeah, of course.” And then as she leaves the room I call after her, “Hey, you don’t have any toilet paper in your car, do you?”

She laughs a little and says, “No, but I have Starbucks napkins. I’ll bring you some.” And with that she leaves me in the bathroom to change out of my now partially dried and stiffened jeans. Her sweatpants are way too short on me and soon I’m just staring at myself in the mirror. Memories of the girl who lost her fiancé are reflected back to me. I clutch the counter and close my eyes—I am not that same girl. I am much stronger. I will not fall back into a depressed state. What happened this morning cannot happen again—this I know. Jumping into the ocean to escape all the madness was simply a momentary lapse in judgment. Right?

Opening my eyes I take a deep breath and exit the bathroom. I glance over at the bed in the room I never wanted to be in after Ben died and try not to think of the pain and suffering his death caused me—and for what?

Back in the entryway, I grab the drinks, and go sit in one of the chairs, blocking out all thoughts of Ben. Aerie comes in a few minutes later.

“Thank you so much for this.” I raise my large paper cup in the air.

“Yeah, well I thought you might need some and I grabbed myself a tea while I was at it.”

When she says the word tea, I think about River and the first morning we spent together . . . when I wasn’t sure if he was a coffee or tea drinker. How relieved I was that he drank coffee.

She comes over to me and the memory dissipates as she tries to brush the knots out of my hair but can’t, so just ends up twirling it into a messy bun and securing it with the elastic she removed from her wrist.

“Always prepared.”

“I try to be,” she says, grabbing her cup and sitting in the chair next to me. She looks me up and down. “You know, we can go to my place and you can take a shower.”

“No, I really just want to stay here.”

She nods her head and we both sit quietly, sipping our drinks until I break the silence. “What else did Grace tell you about Ben, other than he’s alive? . . .” I start to speak the truth but the words sound strange, not real, and I can’t even complete the sentence.

“All she told me was that Ben was involved in something dangerous and had to leave for his safety and . . . ,” she pauses before adding, “. . . and for yours, Dahlia. But she didn’t feel comfortable discussing anything else and I didn’t push her.”

Frowning, I say, “I can see why. It’s a crazy story and honestly really hard to believe.”

“Why? Do you think he’s lying to you?”

“No. I don’t. It was just a lot to process and then he said something that set me off and I kind of exploded.”

“What did he say?”

“He told me he made the choice to leave.”

“What do you mean he had a choice?”

“He got himself into a bad situation and instead of talking about it, and us facing it together, he left.”

“Dahlia, did you stay to let him finish?”

“I tried, Aerie, I did. But I couldn’t listen to him anymore. You know what I went through when he died and to hear he made a choice . . .”

“Can you at least try to forgive him, so you can move past this and get some closure?”

“No! No! I’m not going to forgive him for what he did. I can’t!”

I’m unable to distinguish whether what I just said annoys her or saddens her, but from the slight downward curl of her lip, I’d have to go with saddens. We stare at each other for a long while and I know she’s being cautious with her words.

“Do you think you should sit down and listen to everything? I don’t know what he did, but I know he loved you and I’m sure the choice wasn’t easy.”

Not able to hide my irritation I tell her, “Don’t you get it, Aerie?—that’s just it, talking to him again won’t change anything.”

We share silence for a few more moments.

She raises an eyebrow. “I know it won’t, but I think it will help you better understand why he did what he did.”

Wow. She understands more than I thought she did.

I pause for a minute trying to understand why she’s pleading Ben’s case. When I think I’ve figured it out my face flames with skepticism and disbelief. “You don’t think I’m going to just jump out of my relationship with River and back into Ben’s arms? Do you, Aerie? Because it doesn’t work that way.”

Her eyes flash to mine. She sets her tea down and walks over and kneels in front of me, grabbing my hands. In a low voice she says, “Of course not. I know it doesn’t work that way and no one expects that at all.” Then she squeezes my hands tightly. “I know you love River. I even set you up to meet him to begin with because I knew how you felt about him. We’ve talked about that. This isn’t about choosing one guy over the other. It’s about listening to and maybe even forgiving a man you’ve known your whole life. Not ruling it out. That’s all. I’m not saying this for him, but for you, for your own peace of mind. I know you, Dahlia—this will drive you crazy.”

That wasn’t at all what I’d expected to hear. And although I understand her intentions, I know forgiveness isn’t in me right now.

She sighs and then shrugs. “Maybe try looking at the situation from his point of view, that’s all. Just think about it.”

I nod. “I’ll try but that doesn’t mean I’m going to forgive him.” With that, she stands up and goes to sit back in her chair.

Looking down at the coffee cup still in my hand, I swirl it around. “River and I got into a fight after I saw Ben this morning.”

She says nothing. Fuck me, she knows that, too. I can tell immediately because she stands back up and paces the room, avoiding my intent stare at all costs.

“Aerie. What do you know?”

She doesn’t answer and I stand up and walk over to her. “Aerie. Tell me now.”

“Dahlia, I think I should let River explain.”

“Well River isn’t here right now and he isn’t talking to me anyway. So how about you explain.”

“Fuck!” she says and she never says fuck so I know it’s bad.

She walks to the window and pulls her phone out of her pocket then dials a number. “Serena, are you almost here?” she says and after a few moments she hangs up.

I gape at her. “What’s going on here? You called Serena already. Why?”

“Dahlia, please calm down. We didn’t want to tell you right away about the attack because . . .”

I cut her off. “Did you always know Ben was alive? Did you know this whole time?”

“Jesus, Dahlia. No! No! I knew nothing about that, I swear. God, I would never have let you go through that if I had known, none of us would have. What I meant was we knew who attacked you, but that’s all.”

I study her face, trying to understand. “We? You mean all of you knew? Not just River?”

“Dahlia, please let River explain this.”

“No Aerie, I want you to explain the ‘we’ to me now.”

She sighs as if resigning herself to a fate worse than death as she slumps back in the chair and picks up her cup. She takes a few drawn-out sips before talking. “The night before you were attacked, Grace was notified that Ben’s shooter was released. Caleb found him and chased him out of your house. He was worried that guy would come after you. Grace tried to call you, Serena tried to call you, and Caleb tried to call you. They all left you messages but you never called them back. Serena tried again in the morning and River answered. They told him everything that had been going on, but it was too late by then,” she stops for a few seconds as I continue to glare at her in total and complete shock.

“Go on. So why not tell me? I don’t understand.”

“Dahlia, we remember how you were when Ben died, and none of us wanted to bring that pain back on you. Grace wanted to tell you in person so she asked River to wait before saying anything. Then you two decided to go get married and not tell anyone. I questioned River’s decision to not tell you first, but in the end I decided I’d rather see you happy than risk what might happen if we dredged up those sad memories.” She stands back up and walks over to me.

I try to absorb all this information. Is there anyone I can trust? Wanting to put the pieces together, I run out the door to my car and grab my phone from the console. Back in the house I glance at the screen and see three missed calls. I immediately scroll through my voice messages. There are none from five days ago. River must have deleted them. I shake my head and throw my phone across the room. I can hear the sound of destruction as the screen shatters, but I don’t care. I don’t need it. He hasn’t even called me, but Unknown Caller has called another three times.

I sink to the ground and pull my knees to my chest. “I can’t believe he hasn’t even called me since our argument this morning.”

Aerie comes to sit next to me and looks at me questioningly. “Who? Ben?”

“No! Not Ben. I told you I don’t want to fucking talk to him. River. River hasn’t called me.”

As I’m speaking, I hear the door open and look over to the foyer. Serena stands there with a bag of Chinese takeout in one hand and a bottle of vodka in the other.

“Maybe you should call him? You’re the one who slapped him and left him at Mom’s,” she says when she walks into the room and sets down the bag on the coffee table.

“How do you know that?” I know I’m staring at her, but I can’t help it.

“Dahlia, Mom saw the whole thing. She saw you and River at your car and saw you drive away. She called you to come back home, but you wouldn’t answer.”

“Serena, so much has happened in the last day, I’m doing the best I can. I’m just not ready to talk about it yet.”

“I get it, Dahlia, but what you don’t understand is that by avoiding the issues you’re just causing a bigger rift between everybody. You need to stop running away and face what’s right in front of you. You might actually be surprised by the outcome.”

I drop my head into my hands. I don’t even know how to respond because there are so many issues. It’s not that I’m running; it’s that my faith in Ben is shattered and talking to River seemed pointless at the time, we were both just too mad. Serena takes my hand and pulls me over to the sofa to sit next to her. We’re facing each other as she says, “Dahlia, I know you don’t want to talk about this, but you need to know what happened this morning.”

“I have enough to think about, I don’t need to hear more.”

I start to stand up and Serena reaches for me. “Wait, you need to hear this. After you left this morning, Ben and River were yelling at each other in the driveway. River lunged at Ben and they started fighting. It took Mom screaming at them for them to stop.”

“Oh my God, I never thought, I just never even thought about them seeing each other, let alone what would happen if they did.”

Serena gives me a look and scolds me. “You would have known if you’d have answered your goddamn phone.”

“I’m sorry but I just don’t know what to do here—with Grace, River, Ben, I’m so angry, so upset, and confused. I really don’t want to talk about them right now.”

Aerie walks over to where my phone lays broken on the floor and picks it up. “Well, you don’t have to worry about them calling you because you no longer have a phone.”

To avoid tears, I mumble, “Well at least I won’t be checking for calls that never come.”

I stand up and head for the table. Serena jumps up, grabs my arm, and shouts so I can’t ignore her, “Dahlia, grow up. You slapped him and left him standing there.”

I turn to her in shock and scream back, “I know I did!”

“Well what did you expect?” Then taking a breath, she says in exasperation, “Dahlia, you need to get your shit together.”

“I know I shouldn’t have left him there, I get it, but I also know we both needed time to calm down.”

Serena rolls her eyes at me and says, “Your decision.”

“Well my decision right now is to eat this Chinese food and have a drink. Then I’ll worry about what to do next.”

Serena stands there shaking her head and Aerie just looks at me not knowing what to do with me at this point, and I get it because frankly, I don’t know what to do with myself, either.

So I do the only thing I can right now—I grab the bottle of vodka. Ripping the plastic off, I unscrew the top and take a long chug. Then I wipe my mouth with my hand as I endure the burning sensation traveling down my throat. Serena stands there with her hands on her hips. She’s completely no-nonsense just like her brother, but I try to set that thought aside.

“Fuck, Dahlia, I have cranberry juice and limes in the car, could you wait a minute?”

“No I can’t. I don’t care about mixers right now. I just want to stop thinking about all this madness.” Lifting the bottle in the air I make a toast. “Here’s to making dumb decisions and not always being able to own up to them.” With that, I burst out laughing and then start crying. I take one more sip from the bottle.

Both of my best friends come over, Aerie grabs the bottle and says, “Here’s to never being able to keep a boyfriend because you’re just too damn picky.”

I raise my hand as if holding a glass and say, “Here’s to not being picky, but to waiting for Mr. Right.”

After she downs a healthy dose of vodka, she hands the bottle to Serena. Serena takes it and holds it in front of her. “Here’s to being a shitty parent. May your sons never get into the kind of trouble that you can’t help them out of.”

What? I look at Serena and know this isn’t the time to ask but I wonder what’s going on with Trent. I need to comfort her so I raise my imaginary glass again and say, “Here’s to moms who do everything they can to help their children.”

It’s now that I realize these women have their own issues. And I should have been there to help them like they’ve helped me. How do I not even know what’s bothering them?

I grab the bottle and make another toast. “Here’s to always listening to your friends and understanding their issues.”

Once all of our feelings are out there, we spend the rest of the afternoon eating Chinese and drinking what’s left of the 750ml bottle of vodka before we all pass out. The three of us are careful only to talk about Serena and Aeries’s lives and never say the name Ben or River.