NOTE: The title of this chapter was inspired by a line in the song "The End", written and performed by The Doors.
(See first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)
Chapter 14: "Laughter and Soft Lies"
"Oh, Caitlin. What are we going to do with all this?"
The four year old sat on the living room floor, surrounded by mountains of gift boxes and shopping bags. "Hide them from Daddy?"
"Yes." Olivia nodded, gathering several of the errant boxes into a neat stack. "We'll hide them from Daddy in the back of your closet." She sighed, one that segued into a yawn as she sat on the sofa. "Let's just rest a minute."
She leaned back, watching as Caitlin stacked the boxes into a bridge she could crawl under. The sun had just gone down, hazy light that caught on her daughter's blond hair. Shadows began to grow, sprouting from the dark corners of the room. "Caity, press the button to make the tree light up."
"Ok!" she exclaimed, jumping up with a purpose. Boxes tumbled in her wake as she crawled beneath the fir tree, the lights springing to life as the sound of pounding on the front door reached them. "Daddy!" she shouted, crawling out and running to the door.
"Caitlin! No!" Olivia shouted, pushing herself up as the four-year-old pulled open the heavy door. She hurried over, putting herself between Caitlin and the front door.
Two of the guards held a man back, pushing him away from the door as he shouted, "No, damnit! Let me through! I need to talk to Gregory Richards! Let go!"
Olivia bent down, awkwardly scooping a sobbing Caitlin into her arms. The screaming man looked up, locking eyes with her. "I know you!" he shouted, straining against the guards. "I need to talk to you about your husband! There's things you need to know!" Her lips pressed together, recognition dawning as he shouted, "I'm Cashlin Russell's husband!"
"Wait!" she exclaimed as Caitlin pressed her face into her neck. "Wait! I know him!"
One of the guards turned back, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Richards. But we have our orders."
"But I know him," she insisted, shifting Caitlin tighter in her arms. "We'll speak here. Stay if you must."
The two guards made eye contact, silent communication until they lessened their grip on Jack Russell. "Watch yourself," the first guard growled warningly. "Watch yourself."
Jack shook them off, glaring angrily at the first guard then the second. He smoothed his hair back and took a deep breath, stepping towards Olivia. She eyed him carefully, smoothing the hair on Caitlin's head. "Just a moment," she said softly, turning back into the house where she deposited her daughter on the floor. "Caitlin."
The four year old looked up slowly, her cornflower blue eyes filled with tears. "Don't cry," Olivia whispered, crouching down and kissing her cheek. "It's all right, darling."
Caitlin's arms flew out, wrapping around her mother's neck and squeezing tight. "He shouted," she sobbed.
"Yes, he did." Olivia cupped her face, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "But I need to speak with him now."
Jack Russell flinched under Caitlin's suspicious gaze as Olivia continued, "You run up to your room and make a pretty picture for Daddy. Stay there until I come get you, alright?"
Caitlin nodded, slowly pulling her arms away from her mother's neck. "Ok, Mommy," she said softly.
Olivia stood slowly, watching her daughter walk away and begin to climb the stairs. "You've scared my child half to death," she snapped, turning back to Jack Russell.
He extended his arms, surrendering. "I'm sorry," he explained, taking a step closer to Olivia. "That was not my intention."
She eyed the two guards standing at attention at the end of the walk. "I'm sorry too. I don't remember your name."
"It's Jack. Jack Russell."
She nodded. "I'm Olivia. What exactly was your intention, Jack?" she asked. "Gregory's not home."
Jack's eyes darkened at Gregory's name and he sighed heavily, his breath shaky with unbridled anger. "Does he often work late?"
She cocked her head, folding her hands on the crest of her pregnant stomach. "Sometimes. Doesn't your wife?"
He chuckled, shoving his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. "Sometimes," he agreed, a pained expression clouding his eyes. "Sometimes." He looked down at her stomach for a long moment before slowly raising his eyes to her. "How long you folks been married?"
The question threw Olivia and it took her a moment to respond. "Five years this past November."
Jack nodded. "That's a nice long time. Cashlin and me…we've been married for a just a few months."
"Yes, I know. Gregory and I were guests at your wedding."
Something changed in Jack's eyes as a gust of wind rippled through the trees. "I suppose he would've been," he muttered, causing Olivia to frown.
"Why are you here?" she asked softly. "What do you want?"
"What I want…" he trailed off, turning away from her. "I never get what I want." He glanced back quickly, his eyes burning. "Except Cashlin. I got her."
Olivia shivered against his unrelenting gaze as he continued, "I've loved her since we were kids. I- I can't be without her. I need her."
"I'm not sure I-"
"I need her more than he does."
The two guards glanced over as Olivia froze. "What?" she gasped.
"Your husband. He doesn't need Cashlin." Jack swallowed, gesturing to Olivia as he explained, "He'll listen to you. Tell him to end it with her."
The breath rushed out of Olivia's lungs, creating an odd croaking noise in her throat as she pressed her hand into her chest. "You've- you're mistaken. Gregory-"
"Is having an affair with my wife!"
Olivia shook her head, slowly. "No," she replied shakily. "Gregory would never-"
"Gregory did."
The simple statement rang in Olivia's ears, turning her heart as the muscles of her stomach constricted. "Gregory…would…never…" she repeated blandly, her words dying as Jack picked up a large envelope that until now lay discarded and forgotten on the ground.
He brushed the dirt away, holding it out to her. "Here."
"No," she snapped, grasping her hands together tightly. "I don't want it."
"Take it," he insisted, grabbing Olivia's hand and forcing her to take the envelope. "Look at it! Look at them!"
"Get out," Olivia hissed, throwing the folder down. It flew into the house, sliding across the tile of the foyer. She looked past him, speaking to the guards. "Get him out of here."
The guards shot forward, grabbing Jack and pulling him back. "Tell him to end it with her!" he cried urgently, meeting Olivia's eyes. "He's got you, your daughter, your new baby. He's got it all! All I've got is her!"
Olivia turned away, slamming the front door shut as Jack's shouts faded away. Her chest heaved, a million and two thoughts racing through her head. She swallowed hard, sucking air into her constricted lungs and willing the pervasive nausea away. The living room became a swirling vortex that sucked her in as she squeezed her eyes shut, choking back a sob.
He'll listen to you…Tell him to end it…Look at them…He's got it all…
It couldn't be true.
The thought vaguely ran across her mind as her eyes lowered to the envelope lying on the floor. She hadn't wanted it. That much was true. It may turn out to be the only truth in this wretched day, she thought as she reached down for the package.
It was heavy in her hand as she walked into the living room, shifting it from one hand to the other. She was Justice, weighing the scales of her own fate. A fate that unfortunately was already decided.
Olivia unfolded the envelope, lifting the flap as she peeked inside. Her hands had a mind of their own, pulling out the photographs and rifling through them slowly. She stared at each picture, the images forcibly committing themselves to her memory. She lifted a shaky hand to her mouth, knowing she could never look at the desk in his office again.
His hand here…her lips there…their bodies writhing in unison…
Bile rose in her throat as she paused on photo. Dark, inky images bled together except that it struck a chord in her. A chord of familiarity. The pile of photos slid off her lap as she flinched, seeing the way his hands reached for her.
He kissed his whore the way his kissed her.
Her face crumpled as she leaned forward, her head spinning. When he kissed her like that, she knew he wanted her. Wanted her in the way his hands cupped her face, drawing her mouth closer to his. Wanted her in the way his lips found hers, eagerly seeking the lips he knew so well. Wanted her in the way they could lose themselves in oblivion when their bodies met.
Wanted her.
Wanted his whore.
She threw the picture away angrily, watching as it fluttered to the ground with the rest. Her heart pounded against her chest, thundering in her ears as she looked up. A photo of herself and Gregory looked back at her. Smiling faces gazed back at her, taunting her with their happiness. She shrieked an unintelligible curse as her hand made contact with the frame. It flew off the table, landing on the floor with an ugly crack.
Standing from the sofa, she blindly looked around the room, the floor littered with the vile images. With slow and stilted movements, she gathered them together and placed them in a neat stack on the coffee table. Order was the only thing she had left. It was the only thing she could comprehend as her head swam, the images in her mind crashing into her broken reality.
Tears stung at her eyes, her fingernails embedding into her palm as a guttural sob escaped her throat. "How could he?" she whispered, her eyes falling on the fully stocked bar. "How could he?"
Wind whipped through the palm trees as Gregory stepped out of his car, carrying in the distant rumble of thunder. He looked up as thick clouds quickly moved across the night sky and fat drops of rain fell on his upturned face.
He quickened his step as he walked up the driveway to the front door, nodding at the guards as he passed. The beam of light he was used to seeing was dark, a flash of lightening instead lighting up the alcove as he pushed open the door.
The living was dark, plunged into a steady darkness as he dropped his briefcase on the floor and fumbled with the light switch. The lights burst on with abundance, bright light that stung at his eyes. "Liv?" he asked, stepping into the living room as his vision adjusted. "Why are sitting in the dark?"
Olivia looked up slowly, her spine ramrod straight in the chair. "The dark," she said slowly, meeting his eyes, "hides so many things."
He loosened his tie, not yet realizing the storm had moved indoors. "Were you hiding Caitlin's Christmas presents? You and Bette were going shopping today, weren't you?" he asked, leaning down to kiss her. He frowned when she didn't look up, her eyes steady as she gazed across the room.
As he kissed her forehead, he noticed the crystal glass and empty bottle of wine next to her. "Did you just open that? I thought Dr. Robinson said only light social drinking for you."
She chuckled into the goblet as she took a large sip of the Chardonnay. "My doctor isn't married to you."
His frown grew in intensity, deep lines wrinkling his forehead as he looked down at her. "You heard the doctor go on and on about those new studies. Alcohol's not good for the baby."
Her eyebrows shot into arches as she looked up, her eyes clouding as she snapped, "The baby? Is that all you care about?"
"I don' know what the hell's going on!" he retorted as she downed the last mouthful of wine. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"I am talking about you." She set the empty glass down hard, causing the flat bottom to snap away from the stem. Pushing herself up, she glared at him and hissed, "You."
The dam snapped. It shouldn't have been so easy to slip back into their old routine. The old ambivalence snuck up, creeping out from the dark shadows. He glared back at her, a weight pressing down on his shoulders as he snapped, "I'm not playing twenty questions with you, Olivia. I'm tired and I've had a long day."
She pouted, her face setting as she cooed, "Poor you."
Sarcasm dripped with every word and he turned away. "I'm going upstairs. Come find me when you're ready to talk."
Olivia's hand shot out, locking around his upper arm as she wrenched him back to her. "I'm not finished yet."
"Really?" he asked impulsively, barely recognizing the people they were becoming. "I didn't even realize you had started."
Her eyes hardened and she huffed, throwing his arm away. "Oh, go to hell." She spun away from him, reaching for the wine bottle's neck.
Gregory lunged forward, knocking the empty bottle out of her grasp. It fell to the floor, exploding in a dozen shards as he grabbed her shoulders forcefully. "You've had enough."
"I haven't even begun to have enough," she argued, shaking herself away from him.
"Enough!" he bellowed. "Just tell me what's wrong!" He lowered his voice, squeezing her arm as he pled quietly, "Tell me what I've done and I'll fix it."
"You can't fix this."
"I can," he insisted.
Her face crumpled, blue eyes falling as she spat out, "You…and your whore."
Her words echoed in his ears as his world came to a crashing stop. "What are you talking about?" he asked quietly, guarded.
"This!" she erupted, shaking off his touch as she reached for the stack of photos. She flung the photos at him, one at a time while continuing to yell, "This! This! This! THIS!"
Gregory stared down, watching the pictures hit his chest and flutter to the ground. He glimpsed them briefly before they fell, not that he needed to see them to understand. He understood in her sobbing, in the tears that fell from her devastated eyes and in the fists she pounded into his chest when she ran out of photos.
"Why?" she sobbed. Her pummeling fists came to a stop, resting defeated against his chest. "Why?"
"Liv-"
"Don't 'Liv' me," she snapped, wiping the tears from her face. "And stop lying to me! Tell me the truth!" Her head pounded, a lethal combination of alcohol and anger that throbbed painfully. "Why?"
Her crestfallen face shunned him into silence and he turned away from her as she asked in a whisper, "Why wasn't I enough?"
She turned away too, pressing her hands into her forehead. Silence bridged the distance between them, a dark and painful abyss that neither could cross. A flash of lightening lit up the room, drowning out the lamps as a clap of thunder shook the house to its foundations.
Leaning heavily against the chair, she muttered against the dizziness, "You made a fool of me. A fool. All the times you said you were working late. Every time you took one of those business trips. How you paraded me on your arm at her wedding-"
And then nothing.
Gregory wrenched around at the sudden silence, partially expecting to find her sprawled unconscious on the floor. He sighed gratefully, seeing her still upright but with her back to him. She gasped and he took a step towards her, concerned.
Turning slowly, she locked eyes with him, the ultimate betrayal reflected in her eyes. "You bastard," she hissed, her eyes narrowing as her hand twitched. She shoved the chair aside, the legs harshly scratching against the floor. "You lying bastard."
She came around the chair, fresh tears welling in her eyes. "We made love the night of her wedding," she cried, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. "We made a child. She was with someone else, so you settled for me?"
Gregory grabbed her wrists, holding them away from his shirt. "Don't do this," he said quietly.
"You wanted her and I was there! This isn't our baby," she spat out, twisting against him. "It's yours…and hers! She's who you wanted then, not me!"
"You're drunk." He tightened his grip on her as she shook her head violently.
"You are a liar!" She struggled against his grip as she shrieked, "Get off! I don't want you touching me!"
So he let go, still holding the air as she stumbled away from him. She sat down heavily on the coffee table, burying her face in her hands as her shoulders shook. They were quiet tears now, the hysterics of earlier gone and replaced by the broken woman he saw before him.
And he had done this to her.
He lowered his hands slowly, reaching out for her. His hand hovered tentatively over her for a long moment before he pulled back. His hand trembled and he shoved it deep in his pocket as he looked out the glass patio door. A bolt of lightening lit up the patio, revealing the hulking outline of one of Stanton's men. "How did she get past the guards?"
Olivia looked up slowly, her eyes glassy as she stood. "What did you say to me?" she asked softly.
"The guards had their orders," he began to explain. "Cash-"
"Don't. Don't you dare say that woman's name in my house." She sighed incredulously, angrily wiping the tears from her eyes. "I'm sorry to disappoint you," she snapped, "but she wasn't here. Her husband was. He'd like you to end it with her."
She chuckled ruefully as she looked back up at him. "He'd like me to keep you away from her. Imagine that." Her body swayed and she braced her hand on the arm of the sofa. "I only wish I had that sort of power."
She began to walk out of the room, letting go of the sofa. She hadn't taken more than two steps on her own when her knees began to buckle. He lunged forward, wrapping his arms around her as he drew her to him. Against her protests, he scooped her into his arms, wondering if it was just last night that she laughed when he did this.
"Stop," she said, squirming as he carried her up the darkened stairs. "I don't want you."
"You may not want me, Olivia," he said quietly as they passed Caitlin's room, "but you do need me right now."
They entered the room quietly, a flash of lightening leading the way to the bed. Gregory leaned over, lowering her still body gently to the bed. She rolled onto her side, drawing her knees as close to her chest as her stomach would allow.
The shoulder of his shirt was damp with her tears he realized, grimacing as his fingers brushed the wet spot. He looked down at her, silent tears glistening on her face as he pulled a quilt over her. He reached out, catching a lone tear on his finger as he whispered, "Olivia?"
She slid away from his touch and turned her face away. "Go away," she replied, her voice hoarse from crying. "I hate you."
He looked away as she buried her face in the pillow. He backed away from the bed, passing back through the shadows to sit on the cushioned chaise. "You should hate me," he whispered under his breath as her quiet sobbing echoed in the silence of the room.