Chapter Twenty-Three (Michael POV)
Seems like this is the day for confrontations.
But as I pull the car into the driveway and notice Jane's car at the curbside and then Jane herself sitting on my mother's front porch the last thing I want to do is talk, especially to her. There are a myriad of emotions that go through me at the sight of her and the least of them is happiness. Honestly, seeing her again fills me with dread. And though I've been expecting her visit ever since I ran into Rogelio four days ago, I still don't feel prepared to face her.
I am not in the mood to hash it out with her right now because I expended all of my emotional energy this afternoon when, against my better judgment, I went to see Lorena. My conversation with Sin Rostro left me unsatisfied and even more desperate for answers. I wasn't expecting Lorena would be able to provide me with actual perspective but I did hope she could fill in the gaps that Rose had left behind. I also wasn't expecting to feel so vulnerable in her presence either but when I saw her again it felt like my legs had been kicked out from under me.
"I didn't think you would come," she says, sliding into the empty chair across from me, "Thank you."
She wears the standard prison issue and her appearance is haggard and worn. She looks like she hasn't slept in days and I can detect a fine tremor in her hands when she places them on the table between us. It's clear that this past month has been hellish for her. I condition myself not to care. Even when she asks in a tremulous tone, "Have you heard from Marcel at all?"
"He's safe, Lorena. I made sure that he went into protective custody after you were arrested."
"Thank you so much," she sighs gratefully, practically wilting in relief with the news, "You have no idea…" She buries her face in her hands briefly. "I've been so worried about him."
"I'm not heartless, Lorie."
There must be a flicker of censure detectable in my words or my expression because she says, "But you think I am, don't you?" When I don't answer because my feelings are plainly visible on my face, she fires, "Well, if you think I'm so horrible why did you come here at all?"
I lean back in my chair and regard her with a cool expression, hoping to appear calmer than I feel right then. "I almost didn't," I tell her, "I still don't know why I did."
"Maybe you don't hate me as much as you think," she reasons.
"Nah. Not that. I hate you quite a lot actually. I'm just trying to figure out your angle."
"Or…maybe you wanted to give me the opportunity to explain myself," she maintains obstinately.
I don't bother to argue that conjecture with her because I suppose there is some truth to it. I know all too well how it feels to be cut off without a chance to defend yourself. The frustration and helplessness you feel almost eats you alive. I don't want to do the same thing to Lorena that's been done to me, even if part of me thinks she deserves it.
"So go ahead," I invite her tersely, "Tell your side of it."
"I've been working for Sin Rostro since I was 25 years old, ever since my father was killed."
"Oh great, so you've made a career out of being a duplicitous fraud. Good to know."
"Do you want to hear this or not?"
Her obvious irritation with me only heightens my irritation with her but I concede her point because, ultimately, she is the one with all the answers and I did ask. "Fine. Go ahead."
"It's not like I had much of a choice," she snaps, "I could do what she wanted or I could die. Those were my options. I chose the lesser of two evils.
"I never intended to care about you at all, Michael," she tells me, "When Tim and Ralph called me for help the plan was to drop by for an occasional check-up and be on my way. I didn't want to get involved any deeper than that but, when I saw the condition you were in, I knew I had to."
"Right. You cared so much but, you did absolutely nothing to get me out of there."
"I couldn't! But I did everything else I could to protect you!"
"Please spare me. You knew they were beating the hell out of me every chance they got!"
"Because you wouldn't break, damn it!" she cries, banging her hands against the table for emphasis. The loud crack reverberates throughout the sparsely furnished visiting area and Lorena receives a warning glare from the guard on duty. She takes a few moments to calm herself before she continues. "They'd work you over again and again because you would not give up. That's why they kept on you and that's why I kept coming back. Someone had to keep your stubborn ass alive!"
I cross my arms defensively and glare at her. "Of course. That was the job."
"You were more than a job to me, Michael."
"Don't be such a martyr, Lorena. I don't buy it. Maybe all you really did for me was prolong the torture. Maybe I would have been better off if they had killed me." It's not the first time I've had the thought but it's the first time I've said it out loud.
"That's crazy. You don't know what you're saying."
"No. I do. You didn't do me any favors so you can stop patting yourself on the back."
"I made it possible for you to get back to your wife, didn't I?"
"If you're waiting for a thank you, don't hold your breath!"
"I don't want a 'thank you!' I want you to stop painting me as the villain!"
"If the shoe fits…"
"You loved me once. And I loved you. I still love you. Don't act like that doesn't mean anything to you."
"Not here to talk about that," I evade defensively, "I want you to tell me why she did it. What was she after in the first place? Why did she hold me captive for so long? What's her endgame?"
"Haven't you figured that out yet? It's so simple it's actually funny. She wanted to destroy you and Rafael Solano and she knew, eventually, one of you would give her the ammunition to do it."
"What ammunition?"
"She was always going to go back to him, Michael. You knew that already. It was only a matter of time."
The conversation plays itself again and again in my head in a sickening loop when I cut the ignition and climb from my car. Jane continues to wait on the porch when I do and I can tell, even from far off, that she is fidgeting nervously. I warily close the distance between us. I come to a stop when we are about ten feet apart. It's not a huge amount of space but, right at this moment, it feels like a gaping chasm. We regard one another in uncomfortable silence for several seconds before I finally break it.
"What are you doing here, Jane?"
My tone is flat and curt and I can tell from her expression that she doesn't know what to make of it. "I…I thought we should talk," she stammers.
"Um…you're about a month too late for that."
"I know I haven't been fair to you these past few weeks."
"Is that acknowledgment supposed to mean something to me?"
"You're angry with me," she discerns in an almost startled tone.
"Nope. I'm not angry." But even as I make the denial, I am trembling with barely leashed emotion. I am angry. I'm angry that she chose to show up now, after so much time has passed, when I have only just begun to regain my bearings. I'm angry that this conversation that I practically begged her for is now happening when I don't even give a damn anymore. I'm angry that she can still make me angry. But I don't tell her any of that. Instead, I say, "Just wondering what you want."
She glances behind her nervously, as if she's hoping for backup before turning to address me again. "I spoke to Rogelio the other day. He said you have your memory back."
"I do," I confirm without further elaboration, "You probably would have known that if you had listened to any of my messages."
"I know. I'm sorry. After what happened with Rafael and what I heard you say to Lorena, I was hurt and confused."
"What I said to Lorena…" I frown with the mention before belatedly recalling the moment she is referring to. "Well, that didn't mean anything. You misconstrued the situation. There's nothing between Lorena and me," I tell her but I refuse to elaborate further because, at this point, it's not important, "As for Rafael…I regret that day. A lot. I wish to God it had never happened and I've been working every day since to make sure it doesn't happen again."
"I'm sorry you had to deal with it alone," she murmurs.
I lift my shoulders in a careless shrug. "I got by. I survived five years on my own, Jane. I'm fine."
She briefly averts her eyes with a tearful sniffle and it's a very small consolation to know that my veiled dig hit its mark. "I was wrong, Michael. I shouldn't have shut you out like that and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I did."
"It doesn't matter now."
"Of course it matters," she chokes ardently, "I was really upset and I made a rash decision because I was scared and I regret that! But you were like a completely different person that day, Michael. I didn't know what to do or what to think."
"Neither did I. That's not who I am, Jane…or who I ever was. And if you don't know that…"
"I know that!" she rails sharply, "That's why I've been so confused. Even though I know the timing wasn't the best with Billy's funeral and everything, I thought things were going well between us that day. I don't know what happened after that, Michael. Tell me what happened."
"Rose happened. It was Rose," I tell her with a surprising lack of emotion, "She messed with my head a lot when she was holding me. Or, I should say, her hired goons messed with my head a lot. But it was on her order."
"So you remember all of it then?" she prompts in a tentative tone, "You remember everything that happened to you?"
I gesture for her to seat in one of my mother's outdoor chairs and then I take a seat as well. "I took the LSAT and I was feeling pretty good," I begin when we are both situated, "I was in line to retrieve my stuff when I started to feel sick. I think I must have passed out because I don't remember anything much after that. When I opened my eyes again, I was in an ambulance but it wasn't really an ambulance because there were these two guys with me who threatened to kill me if I gave them any trouble.
"I don't remember all the details of the ride because I think they must have been drugging me along the way but when I woke up, when I really woke up, I was in that cell. At first, I didn't understand what was happening to me. Everything was fuzzy. Sometimes I thought I was dreaming. Other times, I was sure they were going to kill me but they didn't. They just held me there.
"I knew that you thought I was dead and I hated that. I hated that I'd caused you that kind of pain but I couldn't get back to you. I couldn't escape. There was no one to help me. And those men…they taunted me about that every day, taunted me about you all the time. They terrorized me, starved me, beat me, pretty much made my life a daily living hell until one day they weren't there anymore and somehow I ended up in the hospital."
Jane regards me with a stricken expression. "Did…did they let you go?"
I shake my head. "They're dead. Rose had them killed and then she had Lorena feed me that line of bullshit about saving my life. She's been my handler this entire time and I didn't even know it."
"Oh my God, Michael. I thought she cared about you. Why would she do such a thing?"
"Same old story. 'I was protecting my family,' blah, blah, blah. Bottom line is, she knew what she was doing and she made a conscious choice to keep me from my family every, single day."
Throughout the entire retelling of my ordeal I've been strangely calm, rote, almost detached from the experience, like I'm recounting a story that happened to someone else. In many ways it had happened to someone else because the Michael I used to be did die in that cell and all that is left of him is the battered mess I am now. The Michael I've become is numb to the painful reality of it all. But Jane, on the other hand, is clearly reliving every horrifying detail.
She is looking at me with an expression that borders on agony. Her cheeks are streaked with tears. Her fists are crammed against her mouth to stifle the whimpers that escape her lips. I suspect that she wants to throw her arms around me in that moment, that she probably would if she didn't know for sure that I would reject the attempt.
When she finally speaks, her words are hoarse, so faint that I almost can't make them out. "So, how…how does Lorena fit into all of this? I know she was…was your 'handler.' Is that why Rose hired her? To keep an eye on you?"
"Her job was to keep me alive. I was no good to her boss if I ended up dead. It would put a crimp in Sin Rostro's whole master plan. And so that's what she did. She kept me relatively healthy while I was in the cell."
"So it's true? Lorena really was involved in your kidnapping. She didn't just lie about what happened to you? She was in on the whole thing?"
"Yep. It just goes to show you what a lousy judge of character I am. First Nadine, then Susanna and now Lorena. It's a wonder I don't have worst trust issues than I already do."
"None of that is your fault, Michael. Nadine and Susanna were your partners. It made sense that you would trust them and Lorena… You thought she saved your life. She took advantage of you. She used you and she's the one who should be ashamed. Not you."
"I'm not ashamed. I'm angry. I'm so furious that I can't even breathe sometimes. Mostly at myself though because I should have known better. There are no guardian angels. You have to take care of yourself. Lesson learned. The only person I can count on to watch my back is me."
"That's not true," she whispers, "You can count on me, Michael."
I snort a disbelieving laugh at that avowal. "You have got to be kidding me with that!"
Even though she must see that I'm not relaxing my guard, she digs her heels in anyway. "Stop it! I know you're mad but be fair! I didn't suddenly stop caring about you! I've thought about you every day for the past month."
It's difficult for me to check the impulse to roll my eyes but I manage. "Yeah, I can tell. The endless phone calls were overwhelming."
She yelps my name in dismay. "Come on! Give me a break! Do you blame me for running after what happened at Billy's funeral?" she cries, "You were out of control that day! You tried to kill him!"
"So I've been told over and over."
"It's like you were possessed! My mom had to knock you out with a dictionary!"
"Heard that too."
"So then you know that it was bad!"
"Yeah, I know! But you couldn't let me explain it?" I challenge bitterly, my mask of indifference slipping in a haze of anger, "You couldn't hear me out just once?"
"And if I had, could you have explained it?" she retorts, "Really, Michael?"
My bravado fizzles just as quickly as it flared because I know she's right. I was out of control that day and while I still don't remember the details of what happened exactly I do know that those events landed me in jail. I am currently facing an assault charge because of what I did. I don't blame her for being afraid. I know she had valid reason to be so. But I can't ignore how easily she turned her back on me and, for that reason, I won't let her into my heart again. I can't. No one has ever hurt me that way she has and I'm having a hard time seeing past that pain.
"Not that day," I admit in a softer tone , "That day I was a mess and I didn't understand what was happening myself so I definitely couldn't have explained it to you."
"And now?"
"Now I know that Rose wanted me to hate Rafael. She used the resentment I already harbored for him against me. She spent those years having her men groom me to go after him."
"What? Why?"
"Because she wanted me to kill him. She wanted to send me back to you and then watch as I destroyed us all. She used me as a weapon against the person I loved the most."
"Oh my God, Michael…"
"And I knew something was off with me for weeks. I talked to my therapist and he seemed to think it was normal but I didn't feel right."
"What do you mean?"
I pause to carefully formulate my reply in my mind before I speak again. "I was feeling a lot of animosity towards Rafael, having these really graphic dreams about hurting him, killing him even," I confess, "Every time he was around, the feelings would grow stronger and stronger. It was like I blamed him for everything bad that happened to me, even though I knew that most of it wasn't his fault."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"You couldn't have helped me even if I had," I sigh wearily.
She nibbles at her lip and I can tell by her expression that she doesn't know how to refute that statement. Instead she asks me, almost tentatively, "Do…do you still feel that way…like you hate Rafael, like you want to hurt him?"
I can detect the fear underlying her words and it makes me feel sick to hear it. I don't want her to be scared of me but this is the legacy that Rose Solano has left us to carry. It's always going to be between us because how will she ever be able to fully trust me again? How will I ever trust myself? Yet another reason why Jane and I are better off apart.
"I don't know. I'm still trying to sort through everything Rose did to me. I don't know how I feel about much of anything anymore."
Jane slumps back in her chair with a long, serrated exhalation of breath. "My God…I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe that Rose could do something so twisted. I mean I know she's psychotic but this is just beyond. Why? I don't understand why."
"Because she hates us," I reply simply, "She blames us because she lost Luisa and went to prison, especially Rafael. She has it in for him. She wanted him to lose everything because she lost everything. That's why she waited until you guys were involved again. That's why she held onto me for so long. She wanted to release me at the perfect moment, when it would do the most damage…when you were in love with him again."
Jane shakes her head in denial, her eyes welling with fresh tears. "No. Don't tell me that. Don't tell me that she kept you locked up this whole time for that!"
"She knew you would go back to him. You always do."
She stares down at her hands, which are fisted in her lap. "Michael, please…"
"And don't mistake me here. I'm not angry that you moved on. I'm glad you did. I would never want you to mourn me forever. I've always wanted you to be happy, Jane. But did it have to be him? I can't get over the fact that it was him yet again."
"He's Mateo's father."
"Even more reason for you two to keep gravitating back together, huh?"
"Stop it! Rafael was there for me when I was going through hell after I lost you! He kept me sane, Michael! Don't make me feel guilty!"
"Maybe you feel guilty because you ultimately chose the guy who came between us," I remind her sharply, "We almost didn't get married because of him! Excuse me if I don't nominate him for sainthood! You left me to be with him! You wanted him! We were together for two years and then he showed up and it was over! You walked away like we were nothing. And now, here we are, right back in the same place again."
"Michael, no! This is not the same thing! That's not how I feel anymore!"
"You don't know how you feel, Jane!" I retort angrily, bracing myself against comforting her when I see her tears even as I feel my own burn in my throat, "It's me then it's Rafael then me again then him! You've gone back and forth between the two of us for years now and I'm over it. I'm tired. I don't care anymore."
I'm not sure how much of what I'm saying to her is based on my actual feelings and how much of it is based in fear. Part of me is sick to death of the Rafael run around and just wants to be done with it. But a bigger part of me is terrified. I don't know what lurks inside of me right now. I don't know what I'm capable of and if I were to hurt her or, God forbid, Mateo that would devastate me. I could never get over that. And I can't take the chance. Until I can feel confident in myself again, I won't risk it. So I say things to her that I might have normally kept to myself, things I hope will ultimately drive her away.
"You want to be with him, Jane?" I demand of her, "Go with my blessing. Be with him. Just leave me the hell out of it."
"I don't want to be with him," she intones with an almost haughty air, "If I did, I would be with him right now. But I'm not. I'm with you, Michael. I've always been with you."
"We both know that's not true."
"No. You're not thinking clearly at all," she reasons anxiously, "Everything that happened in the past and everything that's happening now is all mixed up in your head. I am not going back and forth between you and Rafael! I fell in love with him again when I thought I had lost you forever. But I have always wanted you. That's why I married you. And I told you what I wanted that day you took Mateo camping and that hasn't changed at all, Michael."
"Stop! Just stop!" I cry before she can say more, "I'm sick of having this same conversation, Jane! Aren't you sick of it?" I surge to my feet, thinking that I just want to get away from her but she tries to grab my forearm to stop me. I wildly wave away her attempt to touch me. "NO! It's like you're always telling me. Rafael is Mateo's father and that takes precedent over everything else! Obviously there's an undeniable pull between you two or you wouldn't keep going back! And you know what? Maybe that's the best thing that can happen, for Mateo's sake at least!"
"What are you saying to me?"
"I'm saying that Mateo wants you and Rafael to be together. He loves the idea of the three of you being a family and I love him so, you should do that. You should be with him."
She stares at me in startled silence. "You don't mean that, Michael. I didn't believe you the first time you said it months ago and I don't believe you now."
"I absolutely do mean it," I reply in a wooden tone, "This isn't me hiding from my feelings, Jane. I'm not running anymore. This is me being over it. So please, put us all out of our misery and marry Rafael already! Be a family with him. I won't be in your way."
"You're not in my way, Michael. I love you."
I throw up my hand as if physically staving off the intensity of her words. "I don't want to hear that, Jane. Stop saying it! Please. Please, don't make this harder for me. There's only so many times the Universe can prove to me that we don't belong together. So I'm letting go. It took me almost a decade but I'm finally ready to do it so, for the love of God, make it easy for me!"
"What are you talking about?"
"Every time we're together, there's a wrench. First, it was the pregnancy and then it was your feelings for Rafael and my insecurity, which is still an issue for me, then I died and you fell in love with Rafael again then I came back but I couldn't remember us so we still couldn't be together... The list goes on and on and on."
"I don't see it that way at all," she counters softly, whisking away the tears that fall on her cheeks, "I see the Universe putting us back together every time we should have fallen apart. You came to terms with my pregnancy. I recognized my mistake when I chose Rafael and, while you might still struggle with some insecurity, deep down you know that I love you. You know it's always been you. We got married. I found you again after five years of thinking you were dead and, against all odds and even with no memory, you fell in love with me again. That's not the Universe telling us we shouldn't be together, Michael. That feels a lot like 'meant to be.'"
She pauses then, as if there is something more that she wants to tell me but then decides against it at the last second. I watch as she struggles to compose herself and stamp down every urge I have to inch forward and comfort her. When she speaks again her words are so hoarse with tears that they are almost unintelligible.
"After all of that, how can you think for one moment that we don't belong together?"
"I don't believe in 'meant to be' anymore and being in love with you hurts too much, Jane," I mumble, my words thick with emotion, "I feel like I fight and I fight for us to be together and we always end up in this same place. I just want to try to move on. I need to know what my life looks like without you."
I dig around in my pocket for my keys then and edge around her to the front door, needing to put some distance between us quickly before her tears, and my own, wear down my determination. She hovers behind me as I struggle to slide the key into the lock. My hands are trembling as I do. I wonder vaguely if she can tell.
"Right now you're upset and I get it," she reasons from behind me, "It's a lot. You've been dealing with a lot on your own and you need some time to sort it through. I understand that. I can give you time." I twist the knob and push open the door. "Wait! Did you hear what I just said, Michael?" she asks when she recognizes my intent to leave her standing there.
"I heard you. I don't need time," I tell her, without turning back, "I need you to go."
When I step into the house and turn back to face her, she is gaping at me in disbelief. "You're not going to leave it like this between us, are you?"
"Actually, I'm reinforcing the decision you made a month ago," I reply coldly, "I don't want to see you again, Jane. I think it would be better if we weren't in each other's lives anymore. Please, don't come here again."
And even though it feels like someone just reached into my chest and yanked out my still beating heart, I find the strength to close the door. The last glimpse I have of her before I do is her beautiful face, the one that I have loved so much for so long, crumpled in an anguished grimace. I turn away from the door because I can't endure hearing her broken sobs and I don't want her to hear mine either.
