Page 43

“Happy Birthday, Ava!” I sing to my very sullen and quiet child, as Katya places a homemade chocolate cake ablaze with fifteen trick candles directly in front of the pouting birthday girl.

Ava eagerly leans forward on the table, wishing her little heart out that we’ll just shout gotcha! Then remove all her restrictions, and just go back to how it was before. Her tiny blonde eyebrows knit in concentration as she expels all of the air in her lungs… much to her great disappointment, the flames live on.

“Ah!” I shout, chuckling at the poor girl’s crestfallen expression. Ava truly looks like a pouting angel– a fallen angel turned demon. “No matter how hard you wish, it isn’t coming true, Monster. Just as no matter how hard you blow, those candles aren’t extinguishing.”

Fed up and not in a good mood– but when is a teenage girl ever in a good mood? –Ava wets her fingertips in her water glass, then systematically snuffs out all fifteen candles… without uttering a single word.

Ignoring Ava’s antics– as we all have learned to do –Katya cuts up the cake with some very attentive and not-so helpful toddler plate-holders.

Three months into her three-year imprisonment, Ava has said nary a word to any of us. She hasn’t spoken to me since our Daddy is a disrespectful bastard venting session.

Ava is strong-willed, the combined child of Katya and me, so we can’t expect anything less than bullheadedness, strong convictions, and an iron will.

But I can scent Ava’s bullshit from a mile away. I give her six months before she cracks the silent treatment, then realizes the boundaries we’ve all set into place are for her benefit. In the past, I’ve pulled this manipulative trick many a time– Ava’s just perfecting it.

Every single day, I prove my worth to my daughter by not giving in or giving up, by maintaining firm boundaries, by showing Ava how much I cherish her. A schedule, firm rules, an open mind and heart, unconditional love, and clear consequences for her actions are to teach Ava I will follow through and my word can be trusted.

I’ve learned an apology or an I love you doesn’t count if you don’t have the actions to back up the words.

Ava is warming up to me, but still as silent as ever.

For Ava’s birthday celebration, we’re sitting around Shadow Haven’s dining room table. It’s just the immediate family, because to expect Ava to be social is like expecting a serial killer not to kill.

It’s just Cort, me, Katya, and the kids– Zane, Ava, Azrael, and Marcus Zane. Ava has had no outside contact with anyone who isn’t her immediate family or our guards when she isn’t at Hillbrook. She works with the Jessups before and after school. Ava’s sole entertainment are her siblings and the Jessup teenagers, who are respectful but don’t like Ava much. Torian often visits, because Zane and he are usually a packaged set. The charming lad actually has Kat’s seal of approval, and he’s the only one who makes Ava laugh.

Ava is angry that she’s spending her fifteenth birthday without her partner in crime. Spyder isn’t allowed unattended in the house, even though she’s a relative. Since Spyder is older, she doesn’t attend Hillbrook, which means Ava never gets to see her.

While Katya doesn’t live here, we’ve all agreed on a set of rules and a firm schedule that are abided by at both houses. Rules that don’t just pertain to Ava. Family rules. So far, it’s kept us from tearing out throats.

The most difficult rule for me is how Marcus, Regina, and Spyder are not allowed to cross Shadow Haven’s threshold if Katya, Ava, or the twins are on the premises. When Katya holds a grudge, she’s a force to be reckoned with that is far stronger than Ava’s silent treatment.

In Kat’s defense, the man tried to extort sex from her, the woman tried to kill her, and the girl released an exposé at our daughter’s behest, when Katya is a private person who wants no dirty laundry aired in public.

No Spyder, because Ava and Spyder do very bad things, feeding off one another, until they feel invincible. Those acts they later come to regret, when it’s far too late. I actually wholeheartedly agree with Katya on this rule.

With a pair of jealous sisters-in-law both pregnant, Katya has somehow found herself stuck in the middle. One is her next-door neighbor, while the other is the mother to her stepson.

Gretchen has struck up a friendship with Katya, needing pregnancy advice, since it’s been seventeen years since her last birth. Katya has even started sharing prepared meals with Gretchen, Boyd, Torian, and sometimes Zane.

It’s the first time Crestview drive feels like a friendly community, instead of a prison filled with relatives and enemies.

The jealous sort, Faith is suddenly in need of advice too, since she’s a sneeze away from giving birth.

Oddly enough, Kat and Faith have found a bizarre frenemy relationship for the sake of the children. Faith is allowed to go anywhere unimpeded, with unlimited access to all the kids, as long as she offers Katya the same respect in return.

“Ava’s secretly happy.” Zane readily supplies as Katya passes out slices of cake. “Silent or not, you can’t hide from your big bro, little sis.”

Ava opens her mouth, then shuts it. Worried she’ll reply, she shovels in her chocolate cake. No doubt it’s killing her not to point out how she and Zane have an agreement– he’s only allowed to call himself the big brother from Christmas to March. As soon as they share the same age, there’s no more big or little allowed to be voiced.

Ava must be going batshit with the need to point this out. Ha!

“Don’t let Ava fool ya.” Zane keeps it up, acting like the world’s most annoying big brother. “Ava can’t keep her trap shut at school. She loves it when I follow her around.” Zane flashes us a sarcastic smirk.

Being an empath does not mean a saint– Torian and Ava are equally terrorized by Zane, all for their benefit, of course.

Always no-schooled, Zane agreed to graduate from Hillbrook. Not because Torian pressured him, but because he wanted to take care of his little sister. In all honesty, I think Zane was worried Ava wouldn’t have any allies, so he sacrificed his sanity for her.

“Does Ava talk to you at school?” Kat asks more than out of curiosity– she’s been terrified for Ava as well.

While I worry over Katya, how she bottles up her emotions and never lets them out, Zane assures me Katya is very calm and even. Resolved.

I was surprised to learn Katya and Zane get along very well, to the point he visits her to watch science fiction movies and television shows. The 100 has become a weekly addiction for them. When interrupted, they get grouchy.

Zane snorts at the ridiculousness of believing Ava is quiet in her natural environment, then he apologizes for being crude. “Oh, Ava ignores me too, except when she’s calling me a traitor for narking on her. But it’s not me who’s supplying the intel, as I’ve told her time and time again.”

“Who?!” Ava barks out, causing all of us to laugh in surprise.

Just as a brother should, leave it to Zane to get beneath Ava’s skin after we’ve tried for nearly three months straight. I couldn’t even get Ava to yell at me when I accidentally on purpose dumped a glass of iced water over her head. The closest we’ve come to a reaction was when Cortez squirted her with chocolate syrup– Ava cracked a smile that instantly turned into a grimace.

“Ah, I can answer that,” Cort says with great pleasure. “Niel.”

“The fuck?!” Ava hisses my turn of phrase, so I don’t bother reprimanding her. “I avoid him.”

“And Hillbrook is so large that you can hide out and not be seen.” All attitude, Zane sounds just like his mother.

“I’m behaving,” Ava grudgingly mutters, as if behaving is murdering her soul. “Quit spying on me.”

“It’s my job, and one I take very seriously.” Pinning his sister within his intense stare, Zane narrows his eyes. I recognize how he’s trying to get a read on Ava’s emotional climate, much to her annoyance. “One that you’re secretly happy I have.”

“God!” Ava groans dramatically. She forcefully expels her breath, causing her white-blonde bangs to billow in her self-made breeze. “I hate how you do that.”

“Oh, that you do,” Zane blandly retorts.

Laughing, I just watch their exchange, loving every second of it. This is normal, reminiscent of the Ramirez household. No doubt similar to how Katya and her big sister behaved. It’s amazing to hear my daughter, even if she’s bickering with her brother.

Normalcy.

Genetics and the four-month age difference aside, Ava and Zane are complete opposites in every way, yet look and behave as twins.

Never in my wildest imaginings did I think this was the life I could lead. Zane’s under Shadow Haven’s roof half the week, sometimes more. He even visits Katya when his siblings aren’t there. He’s a better watch keeper than any parent could ever be– poor Ava. I’d pity her if it weren’t for the fact Zane tells me his constant badgering makes Ava feel safe, which in turn makes Ava behave.

Katya and Cortez share a secret look– the bond they’ve developed over the past few months, as they co-parented with the finesse of prison wardens, is astounding. I think they could micromanage this family during a nuclear holocaust, followed by a zombie apocalypse.

I feel excluded from the bonding, but it’s not about me, or so I forever tell myself when I’m feeling jealous. It’s for the good of our family.

Katya and I are nowhere near where we were, but I think that’s a good thing. We’re stronger in a way we never would have reached otherwise, but weaker in the ways we used to be strong. Our foundation is being rebuilt with trust, respect, and honesty, not fallacy and the lies we told ourselves.

But then again, I realize our past strengths were fictitious, and now we’re firmly rooted in reality. It’s a new era, where I can appreciate the harsh truths, even if it hurts.

“Ah, look at MZ!” Ava giggles, face turning pink from pleasure. While she’s ignored anyone over the age of twenty, the twins have gotten the brunt of her attention. Ava’s a chatterbox, and she uses the little ones as her outlet.

Channeling our Cookie Monster, Marcus Zane has chocolate cake smeared all over his pudgy face, reminding me of Cortez when we were little. Our love of sweets is genetic– Cort, Zane, Ava, and the twins can’t live without desserts.

Marcus Zane is not a chatty kid. We’re lucky to get a sentence out of him during the day. It’s his natural disposition, not the way Ava is slowly murdering us with silence. I remember Zane being that way too, and Faith assured me that was the case. So when MZ speaks up, we listen.

“Puppies!” Azrael beats a dead horse– as in, I hear that word fifty times in an afternoon. It’s maddening, and considering I deal with insanity by trade, I would know.

“Why in the hell has Azrael been saying puppies incessantly for the past week straight?” I demand of anyone who will answer. “It’s the only word I’ve heard out of her mouth.”

“I have no idea,” Cortez drawls, but his answering smirk calls him a liar. I don’t need my lie-detector son to tell me that. “I’ve set up the croquet set in the lawn. It’s a gorgeous day for early March. We should go play a few rounds.”

“Nice deflection, Cort.” No one is willing to answer my question about Azrael saying nothing but the word puppies all week.

“YAY!” comes from several sources, so I know croquet is what we’ll be doing, no matter what.

I turn to a healed yet still weak Katya. “Would you sit with me on the patio while they play? If you’re uneasy, we can call Roarke and Caleb up from the man cave.”

Katya and I have an uneasy truce between us. After listening to both my wife and our daughter, I understand why and acknowledge it. I no longer force my will upon Katya. Every conversation or interaction we have has been initiated by her. If I wish to speak to Katya, and it’s not about the kids, I wait until she comes to me.

My life has been about rebuilding the trust I hadn’t earned before. Trust I demanded then betrayed. I accept the consequences of my actions. To do otherwise would undermine what I’m trying to show my children. As an adult, as a parent, I’ve decided to lead by example.

“It’s perfectly fine, Ez. Really.” Katya’s lips curl into a genuine, relaxed smile. “Gunner has been gearing up for March Madness for weeks, betting on the opposing teams of Roarke’s favorite, simply so one of them wins and one loses. When a game is on, I worry the house could be robbed blind and Gunner wouldn’t move an inch.”

“Caleb was always a sports fanatic.” I offer Katya my arm, silently praying she’ll take it. Months after her surgery, she’s still a bit weak. It wasn’t the missing spleen that did her in– it was the slow-healing fissure in her pelvis. The downtime messed with her stamina and muscle tone.

“Thanks.” Katya sweetly whispers, placing a slight pressure on my forearm with her palm. Ever hesitant to touch me, I’m surprised Kat took what was offered.

Cort winks at me as he disappears out the portico doors to the patio, with a trail of four kids in his wake.

“Puppies!” shrieks in a high-pitched tone from Azrael’s mouth. So piercing, it causes Katya’s steps to falter.

“Az just ruptured my eardrum.” Tugging at her earlobe, Katya sounds serious, but judging by her grin, she’s teasing me. “I can’t wait until Azrael grows up some, hoping the pitch of her voice softens. But at the same time, I want to stop time and keep her this tiny.”

“I swear…” I draw out, turning to smile at Katya. “That child is obsessed with invisible dogs. Maybe they’re her imaginary friends.”

“You should see her bedroom at my house.” Katya’s green eyes widen as she gestures above her head. “Filled to the brim with stuffed animal puppies. Our daughter is not breed specific– she wants one of every kind.”

Face alight with amusement, Katya stops mid-stride as we cross the threshold outside. My momentum propels us until we come to a standstill on the patio. Mouth gaping open, Katya looks out over the lawn.

“What?” I murmur near Kat’s ear, worried the ease of our conversation closed her off to me. Understandably, we haven’t had a very easy time of it. Ever polite, we discuss our children and work. Nothing more.

“Look–” Kat points in awe, followed by a soft expulsion. “Holy fuck!”

“Oh, Christ,” flows into snarling a bunch of inappropriate profanity. “Cort has finally lost his fucking mind.”

Before us in the lawn, our children and Cortez are frolicking like pagans around a fire… and that fire is a mass of wiggling black and brown puppies.

For the past week, Azrael hasn’t been speaking of invisible dogs. She’s been feeding, and playing, and loving on these very real Dobermans.

Four Dobermans to be exact.

Collapsing into the nearest Adirondack chair, I’m utterly flabbergasted. No endurance, Katya immediately takes a seat next to me. Speechless, we just watch in awe as Cortez and the kids roll around the lawn with four very large puppies.

“I’m not cleaning up their monstrous shit!” I shout toward Cortez, who just flips me off in reply, glowing smile never leaving his face. Watching Cort and the kids and the wiggling puppies, I just have to smile at their infectious cheer.

“They’re also not sleeping in our bed!” I call out again. Cort just nods his head, not listening to a word I said. No doubt there are dog beds in our room right this second. “They’re sleeping in my bed, aren’t they?” is muttered out the side of my mouth to Katya.

“Most definitely.” Katya gives me a very girly giggle that has me grinning in reply. “Cort will always do what he wants, when he wants, and get what he wants.”

“Don’t remind me,” is a grumpy mutter. “Kat–”

“No.” She quietly admonishes, then pats me on the hand so I don’t get my boxers in a wad. “I need to say something first. I want you to understand why I didn’t fight for you. It wasn’t because I didn’t think you were worth it. It was because it wasn’t my fight to fight– it never was. You’ve always belonged to Cort and him to you.”

“Hearing you say that just about kills me. You get that, right?” is roughly torn from my chest. I’m barely keeping my shit together, because this is that talk– the final one. “You must hate us.”

“I want to,” Katya sincerely answers. “But I can’t find it in me to hate any of you. Even Marcus and Regina. I don’t hate them or blame them– as much as I hate admitting this, I’m petrified of them.”

“You shouldn’t be,” is sympathetically said. I reach over to Katya, and even though I fear she will push me away, I place my palm over top of hers, where it rests on the arm of her chair. The faint smile that curls Kat’s lips has my thumb rubbing soothing circles against her soft skin.

“My fear isn’t irrational, Ez.” Katya chastises me, but it holds no real weight. “I fear what Marcus and Regina are able to do with the power and affluence they hold. They’re delusional in the fact that they believe themselves nothing but good, as if they aren’t subject to the human condition like the rest of us. They are flawed. They are good people, but they’re more than capable of bad, just like we all are.”

“I will admit they have a flawed narrative playing out in their heads that justifies their actions. But I don’t think you have any reason to fear them.”

“You weren’t in my foyer while I was getting my ass beat, Ez.” Katya’s voice quivers with very real fear, and I realize I just discounted her feelings yet again, after I promised to never do that again.

“You weren’t in my office while Marcus was telling me I lived a lie for four years. Laughing how he thought I’d make Cort jealous and draw you two back together. He laughed about our children, thinking they would never be born, but clearly it was a dream come true for Cort, as if I were nothing but an incubator of a surrogate. You weren’t there when he told me to go home and leave you and our children behind, as if they didn’t need their mother.”

“Jesus Christ,” slips out before I can stop it.

“You weren’t there when Marcus said he’d find me a fuck buddy if I didn’t want him to fill the role, laughing about how you and Cort didn’t desire me. As long as I left you and Cortez, Marcus would leave me alone. I just– I don’t think time will heal these wounds, Ez. I don’t hate or dislike them… they just terrify me.”

“I can tell that was difficult for you to acknowledge.” I draw myself back, because I was letting my inner therapist out to play, which means the conversation wouldn’t feel real to Katya, as if I’m analyzing her. “I’m trying to place myself in your shoes, so I can understand how you feel. I’m not going to lie– it’s difficult for me to see it as you do, because of how much I love and respect Marcus and Regina. But looking through your eyes, I understand.”

“Thank you for saying that, Ezra.” Sighing heavily, Katya looks out over the lawn, where the kids and Cort are playing with their new puppies. “I’m trying my damnedest for our family. I want you to know that. I’ve met with them out in public– it was only twice, but it was a start.”

“Oh! That must have been–” Unable to put my thoughts into words, I ask Katya the one question that’s been plaguing me. “Why Spyder? I get how Ava leads her astray, but why dislike my sister so much?”

“I don’t.” Katya quickly replies with conviction. “Spy is a beautiful, intelligent, sweet, young woman. I split Ava and Spyder apart for their own good. Together they turn toxic. They both need to grow up and see how they’ve behaved was wrong, before I think it’s a good idea for them to be around each other. If anything, I’m protecting Spyder from Ava. Family get-togethers are a controlled environment– private bedrooms with internet access…”

“Recipe for a national disaster,” I readily supply. “The newest YouTube sensation to go viral.”

“Exactly.” Katya gives my hand a squeeze before disconnecting our contact. “I want you to know that I’m happy for you both. Truly happy.” She gestures toward a radiantly smiling Cortez. “If that isn’t proof of what your life was meant to be, I don’t know what is.”

As Kat’s words seep into my mind, I watch the scene before me play out. Our four children are playing, laughing, bonding. Angry at the world, Ava still finds it within her heart to not only embrace her younger siblings but to teach them right from wrong. Zane and Cort chat while wrangling three puppies, while Ava teaches the twins how to handle a puppy that’s bigger than what the Mistress and Master of Whittenhower Estates will be when they’re full grown.

“How are you, Katya? How are you, really?” I hesitantly ask, fearing the true answer.

“I’m surviving, Ez. It’s what I’m good at.” Katya readily replies.

“I’m glad you’re surviving, but that’s not what I’m asking. How are you? I want you to live life to the fullest, not just endure it.”

“Physically? I’m at ninety percent. I’m not sure if I’ll get back to where I was. It’s hard, and Gunner is pressing for me to start his exercise regimen. Emotionally? I’m more resolved than anything. I have my moments where privacy is a must, because no one should see me when I hit a low. I’ve put all of my effort into my job, my home, and my kids. What more do I need?”

“Not to sound creepy, but um… what about intimacy?” is stammered, fearing Katya’s reaction.

It doesn’t matter who you are, how old you are, or how traumatized you are, we all crave the need to connect to another human being on a deeper level, and I don’t mean on a sexual level. True intimacy. Just a touch or a kind word, knowing someone understands and accepts you as you are. That’s what I fear for Katya– Kat closing herself off even more than she already has.

“And?” Kat draws out just to torture me.

“I-I-I–”

“I’m picking on you, Ez.” The brat smirks at me. “Intimacy and I are strangers, both with myself and others. But don’t go pitying me– it’s how it needs to be right now.”

“Why?” I demand. Realizing I shouldn’t control Katya by making demands, I soften my voice, then ask what I really want to know. “Why does it have to be all or nothing?”

“I’m not comfortable talking about this with you, Ez.” Katya’s voice quivers from a wealth of overwhelming emotions, and I almost back off. I just give her a look, pleading with her to allow me to understand.

“What do you want me to say? That even if I found someone I was attracted to, I would never trust them enough to let them touch me? Do you want me to say that it wouldn’t matter if I wanted them, because they’d never want me back? Because that would be true, Ez. So to answer your unasked question… no, I’m not having sex with anyone, including my own hand. It’s not worth it for me. If I go forever without it, that’s fine.”

My greatest fear is being realized. Katya was one of the most sensual people I’ve ever known. To cut herself off from her sexuality is tragic. There is no one to blame but myself, going all the way back to fifteen years ago on that hiking trail. My actions have written themselves on the very fabric Katya is formed from.

“Don’t you mean you avoid intimacy because it’s safe?” I’m unable to shut off the intrinsic part of myself that makes me perfect for my profession, especially when I’m having one of the most important conversations of my life. “Don’t answer that, Katya. I apologize. It just came out.”

“Yes, it’s safer for me if I don’t go there.” Katya answers me anyway, then pins me with her unflinching green stare. “Ez, who the fuck in their right mind would ever want me like that?” Shocked at her own outburst, Katya blushes crimson with tears glistening in her eyes. “Strike that. I never said that. Just don’t do me any favors, okay?”

“What favors?” I ask out of confusion.

“It was humiliating enough with Marcus.” Gulping, Katya turns from me, refusing to look me in the eye. “I swear to God, Ez. If you try to hook me up with someone– anyone –I’ll assume you paid them to give me the attention. Do I make myself clear?”

“What? I would never do that, Kat. Why the hell would you think I would?” I’m beginning to worry about her mental health at this point.

“I won’t make you promise, just leave my personal shit alone. We share a family, but we’ll never be friends, so my personal life shouldn’t be of any importance to you, Ez. Especially when it will never influence our children. Plus, my lack of social life is better for them– no need to worry about me not getting laid.”

“Katya, I think my personal life is your business.” Panicking, heart rate accelerating as anxiety threatens to take me under, I wish I could drill into Katya’s mind and yank her thoughts out. “ I want to be your friend .”

“Maybe it’s too hard for me to be your friend,” Katya mumbles underneath her breath. “Ez, it’s fine for you to move on without me. I could lie and say it doesn’t hurt. I could tell you I was never in love with you. I could tell you I still don’t love you right this instant. I could lie and say it doesn’t feel like someone’s hand is gouging out my heart.” Katya’s words and tone hold so much emotion, my throat constricts, to the point I nearly suffocate on my own tears.

One word pops out of my mouth before I can stop it– the only word that will take Katya’s pain away. “Caleb?”

“No, Ez. Don’t go there. Please,” she begs.

“Caleb wants you– you’d have to be blind not to see it. We share kids, Katya. They told me he shares your room. It’s hard to deny it when Caleb lives in your house but doesn’t have his own personal space.”

“We’re not like that Ezra,” Katya warns. “We’re friends. We trust each other. We respect each other. We enjoy spending time with one another. Yes, there is an intimacy in that, but it doesn’t mean it’s sexual.”

“You’ve had sex with Caleb.” I fight back jealousy and the need to shake the truth out of Katya. “I can sense it. I know it’s none of my business. Shit!” I hiss at myself for pressuring her.

“It’s private, Ez.” Katya hides her face in her upraised palms. “We both have issues we’re working through, where neither of us are in the right frame of mind to start something. I don’t know if I have a future with Gunner or not, but I don’t want to fuck it up before it begins.”

That’s the second time I’ve heard about Caleb having problems– once from the man himself and now Katya. This goes beyond the molestation, something from the present. The psychiatrist in me is clamoring to find out the truth, but the man I’ve become backs off and leaves Katya to her privacy.

“I know I’m not the cuddliest person in the world. I don’t sweetie, sweetie , and honey, honey people, or hug them for that matter. But to me, that’s fake. I know people see me as cold. But inside, I feel more than those people who kiss and cuddle, declare they’re soul mates yet break up five minutes later ever could. My words and actions have weight. I mean them, and I mean them forever.”

Too choked up to reply, I have to look away from Katya and the scattering of our family in the lawn. Gazing at the tree line, I cry. I cry to the background noise of our family’s happiness and Katya’s stifled sobs.

How can I simultaneously be so happy yet so sad? It’s wrong to feel as I do, to be so in love with one person while I dissolve my marriage to another. I always feel as if I’m spitting in Katya’s face after kicking her to the muddy ground, like I’m shoving Cortez and our love in her face, then rubbing it in. But haven’t we been doing that to her since day one? I believe we have.

That fact that this hurts so much, that I hurt so much for her is proof of how much I truly loved Katya. Proof of how much I still do. But the pain shows me how wrong it was, how doomed it was from the very start.

“You meant them, didn’t you?” I speak of the marital vows we made to one another.

I wholeheartedly believe that if I’d given this marriage a chance, Katya would have given me her all. Her everything. Forever. Katya would have been the perfect wife for me, but I didn’t want a wife, because I needed a husband.

“Yes, I did,” rings true in Katya’s tear-filled voice. “They weren’t some throwaway words I just said because the moment felt right. I was never the girly girl who was obsessed with romance. I wouldn’t have spoken the vows if I hadn’t meant every word. But–” she hesitates to gather courage to continue. “Neither of you meant your vows, at least not to me.”

Truly unable to dispute Katya’s claims, the words flow unbidden from my lips, words I’ve previously pondered but failed to find.

“I acknowledge how my actions took your autonomy away. My actions left you reeling, feeling lost, confused, alone, worthless, belittled, powerless, and petrified. I affected the very fabric of your personality, by lowering your self-worth, self-esteem, and self-respect. I made you doubt yourself. I could list my crimes, but there is no need. I could apologize, but the damage has already been done, when nothing can ever undo or erase it, especially uttering meaningless words with no actions backing them up. I acknowledge how I was wrong in my treatment of you, and I realize you are my first true punishment. My ultimate consequence is losing you.”

Getting too choked up, it takes me several long moments to continue, because I can barely form words when all that flows from my lips are grief-filled sobs. “This is fucking killing me–” A violent sob wracks my body, no longer able to form coherent words.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I try to hold myself together, when what I really want to do is hold Katya. Ironically, Katya is hugging herself as well. Here we sit, side-by-side, staring out over our lawn as our family tries to ignore the permanent shift that is underway in our lives. This affects each and every one of us.

“I…” Katya coughs, trying to clear her throat so she can be heard. A few more starts and stops, then she’s finally able to speak an entire sentence. “I don’t want you to hurt for me. I need you to be happy. You have a lot to be thankful for, so never allow pain to muddle the future.”

“You should be happy too,” flows as a breathy whisper.

“Your being upset doesn’t make me happy, so don’t you dare play the martyr for my sake, Ezra.”

“Yeah, because there’s only room for one martyr in this family.” I try for teasing but end up crying harder. Ignoring the flood dampening my cheeks, I try to smile through the ache. The pain.

The loss of what should have, could have, would have been.

“Would it be easier if you didn’t see me?” Katya asks a question I’ve asked myself many a time. “I’m not trying to be a martyr. Our family needs everyone relatively happy, so if seeing me hurts you.”

“Does seeing me hurt you?”

“Yes,” Katya readily replies. “But it’s like aversion therapy. The more I see you, the easier it is to see you the next time– less heart palpitations.”

“Nice,” I draw out. “Using my own terminology against me,” is muttered in appreciation.

Grant’s letter pops into my head out of nowhere, and I finally understand what he meant by me having to become the man Katya needs me to be. With trust and respect, by my actions and words consistently matching, Katya will open up to me. As long as I don’t betray the honor of her trust, I’ll keep her forever, in whatever capacity she’s willing to share with me.

“I want to see you, Kat. I want to know you. I want to finally get to know the real you. I want you to get to know the real me. This motherfucking hurts, but I think you and I will be in a better place than either of us could’ve imagined.”

“Better as family and almost-friends than as reluctant spouses, you mean?” Katya speaks through her tears, but there’s a teasing lilt to her tone.

“Yeah, I actually think I meant it that way. I think we were destined to play a major role in each other’s life. We didn’t fit together before, but I think we will now.” I feel a surprising amount of sincerity and confidence, so much so, it shocks me with the rightness of my statement. Comforts me and dries the tears.

We sit for a while, neither speaking, but what’s left to be said? So very much to say yet it means so very little. Nothing will stop the inevitable outcome.

Nothing.

Finally looking at Katya for the first time since we sat, I stare into her honest yet pained eyes. “Ready?”

“It’s time.” She agrees with a quick nod of her chin, trying hard to hide her tiny sniffle.

“I think so too.” I admit as I pull the envelope from my jacket.

I knew today was the day, but nothing could have prepared me for this moment.

The signing away of our future together.

The finalization of our divorce.

The dissolution of our marriage.

The razing of our foundation, with the hope something stronger will be born from the ashes.

Heart pounding, I try to savor the last seconds of our marriage as I stare at my wife. Never will I be able to put this sensation into words– the emotion, the pain, the hope, the fear, the excitement… the pure love I feel for my wife in this very moment.

I’ll never be able to call Katya my wife again, and that thought alone kills something vital deep inside of me.

With my signature, Katya will become my ex-wife .

Legality aside, Katya will forever be my wife in my heart, for I will never take another.

Katya cannot say the same for me as her husband, for she will remarry– I feel it in my bones. I may be remarrying as well, but to a man who I will call husband.

For the rest of my days, whether Kit Kat likes it or not, because I’d meant those vows too… Katya Waters will forever be my wife.

“To what might have been…” I murmur as I add my signature.

Pen to paper. “To what should have never been,” Katya says with conviction as she ends our legal marriage forever.