10: ONYX

I hold her tight because I don't know what else to do. It's been a rough couple of months for my wife and me, and I wish that I could turn back the hands of time.

Meadow has been forlorn and distant since the evening of her attack, refusing help or counseling.

In silence, she struggles with panic attacks, depression, and nightmares. She thinks that I don't know about the panic and anxiety, but I do. She hates that I watch her closely so I pretend not to just to make her feel more confident.

Whenever I bring up to her that she needs counseling, she shuts me down. She's forced me to shut everyone else out because she believes the two of us could get through this together. Yet, she hasn't allowed me to help her at all. What she hadn't considered was who would help me through?

"Baby, tell me what can I do? I need you."

Last night, she allowed me to make love to her. In fact, she initiated it which was a shock to me.

She turns away from me and buries her face into the pillow. I heave a sigh and wrap my arm around her, but she shrugs me off.

"Go away."

"I'm not going away, Meadow. I'll be here for you until the end."

"I want a divorce, Onyx."

My heart seizes inside of my chest.

"What?"

She turns over and stares at me.

"I'm unhappy."

"I'm trying to get you help, baby. Tell me what you need. Anything, and I'll do it."

"Onyx, it's not just the attack. It's everything. I haven't been happy in this marriage for a long time."

"Where is this coming from, MJ? That's not true. We were both happy before the attack."

"No, I wasn't. I put on a smile for the world and tried to hide my misery from you. It's clear we don't want the same things, and I'm tired of pretending we do. I want out," MJ mumbles.

I get out of bed and pace back and forth. My heart can't take anymore because I've given this girl everything. Where did I fail her at? I've been a damn good husband and provider.

A thought occurs to me, and before I can explore the logic of it or rationalize it, emotions take over.

"Did you know him?" I ask.

"What?" she mumbles with her face planted in the pillow.

I can't stop now that I've let it out.

"Did you fucking know the guy who did this to you?"

My fists ball up, and my nails dig into my palms.

Meadow sits up in the bed, her hair wild and all over her head. Her eyes are crazed and her lips are puckered in a sour expression as though she's ready to fight.

"You bastard! How could you say something like that?" she shouts. "He was an addict!"

"None of your actions are making sense to me, okay? I'm trying to explore every option, and that was a thought that popped into my head. You reported it to the police, but when they called you back in to look at some potential suspects a couple of weeks later, you refused. You won't tell your family or friends—"

"I told Kaia, okay!"

"You won't tell your parents. You won't leave that studio and let me get you another better and safer place. It makes no sense why you're acting this way unless you knew the fucking guy!"

She grabs a glass from the nightstand and throws it at me. I duck but it doesn't stop the barrage of other items to come; an alarm clock, a cell phone, a bottle of perfume. Then, she opens the drawer and begins flinging other items at me.

I duck, but something cuts me on the cheek. I run towards the bed and tackle her onto her back, wrapping her tightly in my embrace. It doesn't occur to me what I'm doing.

She fights, kicks, and screams, "Let me go! Let me go!" I continue holding her, hoping that I will calm her fury because if I don't, I'm afraid she may start attacking me again.

This time the fight dwindles out of her, but not the way that I'd like. She starts crying, and her eyes are filled with panic as she cries, "Please! Please don't hurt me! Let me go."

It enters my mind that she may be reliving the attack all over again since I've got her pinned down, and she's helpless. Shit!

I let her go and get off the bed, backing up slowly. Meadow curls into a ball and begins trembling.

"Meadow," I say, returning to her and rubbing her back. "Please forgive me. I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to scare or hurt you."

"Get away from me!" she screams. "I hate you! I fucking hate you!"

When I don't move instantly, she turns over and starts clawing at me. I get the message, and I'm out of here.

None of this makes sense, but this is more than I can handle right now. My emotions are too raw and I don't want to do or say something I might regret later. I can't live like this anymore.

***

The vibe is extremely relaxed tonight. The music is low and mellow, and rather than taking my normal seat at the bar, I sit at one of the fireplaces in the room. There are two club chairs with a low-slung table sitting between the fireplace and the two chairs.

The seating arrangement is private and doesn't give a perfect view of the bar or the dance floor in the other room. It's more personal and designed for private conversations.

I don't have any expectations of that tonight, but I don't feel like being at the bar either. I've only been here fifteen minutes, and I'm on my second drink before I hear her voice behind me.

"It must be my lucky night," she says in that raspy voice of hers.

I turn around, looking over my shoulder with a smile. "What makes you say that?"

"Running into you here of all places outside of work, it must mean something special," she says, smiling. "Is this seat taken?"

"Reserved especially for you," I find myself saying.

Her company is a welcome reprieve from my tormented thoughts.

"Oh?" she smiles and tilts her head to the side.

Sharla has grown even more beautiful with the passing years, and she's now confident in her sexuality; something she didn't possess in the past. I'm not sure why I notice these things because I shouldn't.

She glances at my drink and pronounces promptly, "Rum and coke. The man has great taste."

Tilting my glass to her and giving a subtle nod to the waiter, I reply, "Excellent taste."

She smiles again as I turn to the waiter, "Please add whatever she would like to my tab."

Sharla orders the same thing that I'm ordering.

"I've been thinking about you this week," I say.

"Oh really," she says, smiling at my drink and then unsubtly crossing her leg as her skirt hitches higher.

Clearing my throat, I reply, "We've done a wonderful job going global, but I've been considering expansion in a different direction."

"I'm listening," she says before sipping her drink.

"Someone propositioned me about building a hotel in Las Vegas. An architect drew up the designs. He wants to build it himself, but he needs backing. We've been talking about this for a few months, but it's become more real as time passes. I've got the funds, and he's got some of the money. Now, I need someone to pull together a team of people to work on this for me. We have our external consultants, but I'll need various human resources from marketing, corporate solutions, financial services, property management, IT, sales, legal..."

"Asset management, capital market, leasing," she finishes for me.

"Exactly. I need you to vet each person, and while I prefer to look internally for the members of this team, but if they're not a good fit, then you can look outside of the company, too."

"Wow! So, Neha..."

"Has her hands full with another project. I've discussed this with her already, and she's impressed with the work that you've been doing."

"So, was it her who suggested me?" I hear the disappointment in her voice.

"Yes, but I agreed with her wholeheartedly. I have no reservations about working with you on this project."

"Good. I thought this was going to be difficult at first."

"What's that?"

"Us working together. I didn't want you to underestimate the talents that I bring to the table just because of how things ended between us."

"I'll admit that I was tempted to at first, but I don't operate that way. Not when it comes to business."

"Good. So, to the beginning of a beautiful work collaborative?" Sharla says, holding her glass up.

"So beautiful," I reply, clinking her glass and meeting her gaze over the rim of my glass as we drink.

By the time we finish talking, I feel more relaxed than I've felt in ages. She announces that she has to leave because she has to prepare for our board meeting early the next morning.

I walk her to her car, accept the hug that she gives me, and leave, too.

***

I'm wired and not ready to return home yet. I wasn't ready to say goodbye to Sharla either. The conversation was good and light, the laughter easy and genuine. It reminded me of how things used to be between us.

I know that I should be heading home, but I'm not ready to go there just yet. Every day brings a new argument, a new reality, and a new heartbreak between Meadow and me.

The more that I think of home, all I can see is Meadow's screwed-up face, and all I can hear is her screaming, "Get away from me."

I drive for an hour and a half before I decide that I need to talk to someone. I aim the car in that direction putting more miles between myself and home than I have a right to.

I think about Sharla and wonder if she's heading home to anyone. I don't like it when my mind goes down those paths, but I can't seem to help where my thoughts lead me these days.

Everywhere that I turn, I see black. My wife won't let me help her, and she doesn't trust me enough to open up to me anymore.

Our arguments are out of control and create a greater divide every time we have one. I miss her. I miss the talks that we used to have, the way that we loved one another, shared jokes and discussed our future. We debated on politics, finished each other's sentences, and fed one another.

All of that is gone; a distant memory that I take out to remind myself that the woman I once shared a bed with is the same one who used to be my best friend. Now, the sex is cold and empty, and she barely participates.

I climb up the stairs of the old brick building and ring the buzzer. I ring it several more times before the door pulls open.

"You look like you got hit by a fucking MAC truck. Come in," my cousin Shepherd groans.

"Thanks, Shep."

"Want a beer?" he asks.

I nod. "Where's Caleb?" I ask of his little boy who is usually always by his side.

"Asleep where all little boys should be at ten at night."

"And Mak and the twins?"

"Chloe's in the nursery sleeping peacefully. And Mak is asleep with Chrissy," he mumbles. "She's been colicky all week so keep it quiet."

"I'm not the loud one. That's you," I snort.

"Looks like you've had a few already. You blasted?"

"Nah, wish I was."

"So, I guess this is the part where you tell me what's had your underwear twisted in a knot these last few weeks?" he asks, pulling a couple of beers from his refrigerator.

I drop down on the couch and prop my feet up on his table. He comes by and kicks them off before handing me a beer and then going to the other side of the room to plop down in the recliner.

"You know Mak would kick both of our asses if she saw your feet on her table."

"Yeah, I know."

"So, what's up? Awfully late for a visit."

I sigh and contemplate if I want to share this or not. If there's anyone that I can talk to, I know that it's Shep. He's the black sheep of the family and the surliest person that I know, but he's also non-judgmental and the best person at holding secrets that I can think of.

I can't continue to hold this inside of myself with no one to talk to. It's driving me insane, and as much as I want to talk to Meadow, she's shutting me out. I almost let it out to Sharla tonight, but I can't betray my wife like that. Besides, I barely know Sharla anymore. She's just easy to talk to, is all.

"Meadow was robbed and beaten at gunpoint," I say.

Shepherd spits his beer out and leans forward, choking.

I pull my hand over my face and look back up into his red one. He coughs several times before he says, "You mind running that by me again?"

"I don't care to."

Shaking his head, he asks, "What the fuck happened?"

I tell him everything that I know and bring him up to speed all the way to our latest argument.

"Fuck! That explains it. Mak's been saying that Meadow keeps rescheduling their brunches and that, lately, she hasn't been responding to her calls or texts that much. She's been thinking that maybe she's been super busy with her studio, but she said it wasn't like her to at least not text. Then she'd started wondering if she'd done something to offend her," Shep explains.

"Nothing like that. I'm sorry, and please...I know you'll tell Mak, but ask her to keep it between you and her. MJ would kill me if she knew I'd told you."

"Say no more. Have they caught the bastard?"

"No."

"So, what're you gonna do?"

"I was out driving around asking myself the same thing. I have no idea what to do. She's pushed me away, and shit, I don't know. If I find him, I swear I'll murder him with my bare hands."

He snickers and then says, "Sorry. I can't imagine ‘Pretty-Boy,' kicking ass."

"When it comes to Meadow, I'll do anything."

He nods. "I can believe that. You and Kostas are one and the same when it comes to your wives," he says of our Greek cousin.

"As we should be. I'm sure you're the same."

"Protective but not insanely so. Mak's capable of kicking my ass."

I laugh, knowing that's true.

I take a swig of my beer, and he turns the TV on to a boxing match.

"I want her to get a new studio in a safer neighborhood, but she doesn't want to. We've got to move because I think we need a fresh start altogether. That house is heavy with her depressive spirit," I say after a couple of rounds.

"Where?"

"Out of the neighborhood. I think that's the only way we'll start healing."

His bushy eyebrows go down, and he nods his head. "I can see that if it happened close to home. Home doesn't feel like home anymore. It's no longer a haven. While your neighborhood is safe, her studio is only a few blocks away in a relatively unsafe neighborhood."

We watch the rest of the match in silence except for the occasional jeer at the referee or tip to one boxer or another.

When it finishes, Shep says, "You know where the guest room is at."

"Thanks, man, but I'll be heading home. I can't leave her there alone overnight. She may not feel safe being home alone."

"All right. Just come through any time you need to," he says, giving me a fist bump.

"Thanks, man. And if you don't mind—"

"Hey, I don't like our family enough to share shit with them."

We both laugh, and I admit, "I know that's the truth."

I check my phone that I left in the car all night, even when I was at 3rd Level. I turned it off and put it in the glove compartment.

There are three missed calls from Meadow and a text message.

Meadow: Just checking to see if you're coming home or if I should put the alarm on.

I call, but she doesn't answer. I feel like such a bastard. Flooring the Porsche, I head back to the other side of town, praying everything's all right. I call her two more times but she doesn't answer.

By the time that I arrive home, I go into the bedroom and check on Meadow and find that she's sleeping. After my shower, I climb into bed and curl around her.

"Stop," she says, and I know that she wasn't asleep after all. "Could you just...not in here? Not tonight."

"Yeah," I say.

I get up from the bed and head into the guest room. I have no idea that this is setting the course for things to come.