It is easy to remember the first times.
These mark a turning point in people's lives and remain vividly recorded in their memory, as if they were high-definition images that flow smoothly in the library of their memories.
The new is special and unforgettable, precisely because it marks a change. A before and an after.
The previous expectations, the illusions, the surprises, the unexpected twists, the first sensations, the excitement, the joy, the sadness, the euphoria, they all make that moment especially memorable.
Addison can still remember to this day the terrifying fear she felt when she rode a bike for the first time without training wheels. That initial fear when her father let go of her and she had to start pedaling on her own. The impending feeling of falling quickly replaced by the joy and satisfaction of achieving balance. She also remembers the burning pain of that first fall against the pavement that scraped her knees and left her first scar. Her first badge of achievement imprinted on her skin.
She remembers the first time her father taught her to mix alcoholic drinks at eight years old and serve them like a professional bartender in short-necked glasses. She can taste the bitter flavor of that first scotch whisky she accidentally tried at a charity dinner with Bizzy's book club, or the tannic taste of the first wine she drank at Christmas at her uncle's house, where she swore never to drink it again. And years later she broke that promise in high school.
She doesn't forget the mix of excitement and fear the first time she rode a roller coaster with Archer. The weightless feeling as she dropped in free fall, or the adrenaline that flooded her veins at every turn, nothing like the feeling of butterflies fluttering in her stomach at the moment of her first kiss. Or that first kiss with the right person.
Addison will never forget the tears welling up in her eyes when she saw herself in the mirror wearing a medical gown for the first time, or how her skin tingled the first time a patient called her Doctor Montgomery, after bringing her first baby into the world through natural childbirth.
The excitement she felt hearing the baby cry was very different from the thrill she felt the first time she operated alone. She performed an appendectomy in front of a gallery full of on-call doctors and residents watching expectantly as she opened the abdomen of a living person for the first time. Because it was very different from the first time she took a scalpel and dissected a cadaver in medical school. The flesh of cadavers is usually firmer than that of a living person due to the lack of blood circulation and the post-mortem rigidity that occurs after death.
The first times often tend to be memorable. The difficult ones to remember are the last times, because most of them happen without people realizing it. They are like small flashes that fade quickly, getting lost in the tangle of everyday events that make up daily life.
The last times, for the most part, are unconscious and go unnoticed. People don't really know they are doing something for the last time until they stop doing it.
Addison doesn't remember the last time she rode her bike through the vineyards of her house. Nor the last time she visited an amusement park with her brother. She doesn't remember the last time she went on a roller coaster, or the last time she ate a colorful cotton candy. She doesn't remember when was the last time she wore those annoying dental retainers she had throughout high school.
She doesn't remember the last drink she made for the Captain, nor when was the last time she accompanied him to teach neuroanatomy at the medical school. Or what was the last charity event she attended with her mother.
She doesn't remember when was the last time she drank a glass of red wine reclined on the couch in New York, or what was the last meal she ate at the red stone house, nor when was the last time she walked on a sunny afternoon among the trees of Central Park. Or the last time she got on a ferry in Seattle.
She simply stopped doing those everyday things, without knowing she was leaving them behind.
And at that moment, as she scraped off with a spoon the thin layer of cream that had formed on the surface of her –now cold– hot chocolate, Addison wondered how those last times with Derek had been when they were still married.
Of course, it wasn't the first time she had thought about it. During the first months of divorce, she constantly thought about it: the first and last times. Especially the last ones, because she still found it hard to accept that, indeed, they were the last and would never happen again.
The last time they ate together in the Manhattan dining room. The last time they went on a holiday to The Hamptons. The last time he pushed her into the sea. The last Christmas or the last time she saw her in-laws. Their last anniversary. Their last outing as a couple. The last time he told her he loved her...
...Or the last time they made love.
She had wondered several times how that moment had been. Even though she had some blurry images of their encounters in the trailer, she never managed to remember clearly how or when it had been the last time.
Had it been good? Had it been a failure? Did they have fun that time? Had he said something at the end? Did they fall asleep in each other's arms?
She couldn't remember. Those had not been good times. She constantly lived in fear that Derek would cheat on her with Meredith and... it finally happened. And during the days following their separation, she had no space in her brain to think about memories. She was shattered. She felt like her life had ended the moment she found those panties in her husband's jacket pocket.
Those intense and overwhelming emotions she had experienced at that moment clouded her memory, causing the last times to fade over time.
And now, the bad—or the good, depending on how you looked at it—thing was that she was going to remember perfectly the last time with Derek. Because she knew that this time had indeed been the last.
That last time which should never have happened.
"It's been a long time since I saw you and your husband around here. Rumors say you moved," said Catherine, the owner of The Haven, gently approaching Addison, who had been sitting in front of the window for at least two hours. She had always been a very attentive and loving lady with her customers.
"Oh..." she gave a small sideways smile, "I'm afraid it's true. I have moved."
"Where do you guys live now? Is it far from here?"
"Kind of... I live in Los Angeles... and Derek in Seattle."
"You and your husband live in different states? How is that?"
"It's just that he's no longer my husband..." she said in a whisper, diverting her gaze to the frozen chocolate cup. No matter how much she tried, she didn't have any appetite that day. "We have been divorced for six years..."
It still felt painful to admit it out loud, even though it wasn't the first time someone asked her innocently about him.
Unlike marriages, divorces are not announced. They are not celebrated. There is no special ceremony to let people know that they are no longer together. So divorce news—especially for people not so close—continues to spread over the years. They are like expanding waves that take their time to reach everywhere.
"Really? Yesterday I saw you so close, so complicit, as you have always been..." the lady continued, "He looked at you so lovingly, he never took his eyes off you..."
Addison simply smiled, pressing her lips. Yes, it was true. He looked at her attentively, as he hadn't looked at her in years... but it wasn't because he was in love, but out of pity. Or so she thought. Because every time a tragedy happens to a person, the people around them have an unconscious need to observe them.
"It's been years since I was in the city..." Addison said changing the subject, "we only came for my mother's funeral. He only came to the funeral."
"Oh, I'm so sorry."
It was the umpteenth time she had heard that phrase in the past few days and it still felt forced, automatic. Meaningless.
"Thank you..." she responded in the same way, automatically. It was the predesignated response in her message box.
"I'm so sorry, really. I didn't mean to make you feel bad with my out-of-place comments. It's just that I saw you together and... Forget it. That doesn't matter. I imagine the immense pain you are going through right now for your mom. The loss of a mother is... it's really the worst. I'm so sorry."
And at that moment and for the first time in the day, the memory of her mother sent shivers down Addison's spine. She felt extremely guilty for not even thinking about her. The sincere apology of that lady she barely knew made her realize how selfish she had been by focusing solely on her problematic love life.
Derek had been the center of her thoughts since she saw him leave her room that morning, leaving her plunged into a deep sadness very different from the one she should be feeling at that moment for Bizzy. For her deceased mother.
"Addison?" a male voice suddenly sounded behind her shoulder and forced her to turn around to look at him.
~•~
The worst phrases said in the history of humanity were driven by anger.
Anger is an overwhelming and impulsive feeling that clouds the mind. It is a powerful weapon that blocks empathy and knows perfectly how to enhance a word to hurt, to go straight to the most painful place in a person's heart. To cause irreparable damage.
And after every storm, calm comes. Clarity arrives. Reflection arrives. Remorse and guilt arrive. That guilt that wishes to have the ability to invent a time machine to undo the disasters caused by anger.
That's how Derek felt at that moment while he watched the gray clouds from the airplane window. He was deep in thought about his actions, with a heavy burden of guilt and remorse for what had happened that morning.
He remembered with shame every word he had shouted at Addison, every gesture of contempt he had shown. He remembered her teary eyes and trembling lips, making a great effort not to break down in tears in front of him.
He felt the bitterness of allowing anger to control his mind and his actions, leading him to say barbaric things. How had he reached the point of no return where his words had done more harm than any sharpened dagger? How had he dared to call her a whore at her most vulnerable moment? How had he been so wretched to her when she had just lost her mother?
Of course, he was angry and disappointed with her. Her relationship with Sam Bennett seemed absurd and wrong in many ways.
Sam had been his classmate in medical school and in the hospital residency in New York. They had shared long study sessions in the library. They had played basketball for years at the university club. They had vacationed together, celebrated holidays. They had managed to be close friends for a while, even if geographic distance eventually wore down the relationship down.
And at the same time, Sam was Addison's best friend's ex-husband. She had been their wedding godmother. She had brought their only daughter into the world and was even Maya's godmother... How could she betray Naomi like that and not feel remorse? How had Naomi accepted that bizarre situation? Why was Addison getting involved in a conflicting love triangle for the second time? Why did she need to ruin her friendships? Why did she have no morals?
She clearly wasn't acting right. But that didn't give him the right to react that way. Addison was right, he was no longer anything to her and he couldn't claim anything from her after the divorce. She was a single woman and could date whoever she wanted, even if that included his ex-med school colleague and her best friend's ex-husband.
"Sir, would you like something to drink?" a friendly voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts. It was a flight attendant offering him a drink halfway through the flight.
Derek thanked the courteous gesture and accepted a glass of scotch whisky that provided some relief. The drink burned his throat, but not as much as the remorse he felt for his past actions. He had been a jerk to Addison. He had made her cry after holding her in his arms, promising to be there with her in her pain.
Perhaps what had really bothered him was not Sam, but the fact that she was with someone other than him.
~•~
Addison was sitting quietly in the passenger seat of Archer's car. It was already night and they were heading back home after she had spent most of the day by the window of The Haven. She didn't even know why she had gone there in the first place. She just wanted to escape from the burgundy walls of her room that brought back bad memories of what had happened the night before. Even though the memories and thoughts followed her anyway, making it impossible for her to even taste a drop of the hot chocolate she had ordered.
She was surprised and grateful to her brother for caring about her and going to look for her in the midst of an early snowstorm, but neither of them had said a single word since he started the car.
"How did you know where I was?" she asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence between them.
"You're predictable."
"Am I?"
"Yes. When we were kids, you always cried when I hit you and ran to accuse me to whichever babysitter was on duty."
"That's not being predictable."
"To me, you're predictable because I've known you for forty-three years. I know that you get in a bad mood when it rains and you have to wear rubber boots that don't match your designer dresses. I know you hide a spare copy of your house keys behind the third pot at the entrance, because leaving it in the first pot would be too obvious. I know you only wear jeans when you're feeling down. I know you have more pairs of shoes on a single shelf in your closet than kitchen items in your whole house. I know you only enter the OR if you have a scrub cap with some detail in blue tones because you believe it's a color that brings you luck."
Addison was starting to get emotional listening to her brother's words. Perhaps it was the first time in her life that he had treated her with so much affection.
"I also know that your juju on a bad day is a cheap hot chocolate from a vending machine at some hospital. Just like I know you hide in a cafe away from civilization to conceal the fact that you slept with your ex-husband."
"What? How do you know that?"
"Your face says it."
"My face says it?" she repeated, incredulous. She could feel her cheeks beginning to redden.
"No. But being unfaithful is part of your nature. Having your ex-husband sleeping at your house was an inevitable temptation."
"That's not how it really was, I..."
"Listen, I'm not judging you, Addison. I'm the last person who could judge you. Trust me," he laughed ironically.
She remained silent for a few minutes, thinking of an appropriate explanation. Even though her brother might not be interested in that explanation. He didn't really judge her.
"Sometimes, people adrift, broken by pain, let themselves drown..." she began, "They hurt themselves, sink, go deep into the ocean simply to disappear, to escape their problems. They don't think about the consequences because they're not thinking about anything else. Pain occupies their entire brain, overshadowing any critical thinking... Pain makes people stop thinking."
"Yeah, yeah. You gave me that same speech from a motivational book two nights ago. Get to the point."
"I don't know what the point is. I'm looking for a reasonable explanation for what I did. I could blame alcohol too. Maybe if I had been sober, I would've acted differently, but..."
"You're never completely sober."
"I don't know, Archer! I think... deep down, inside that little invisible box where I had forced myself to lock Derek away to get over him... there, in that small hidden place somewhere in my heart... I..."
"Stop using so many ridiculous metaphors. Just say you wanted to have sex with him. You wanted to do it."
"I wanted to do it..." she admitted, not only to him but to herself. She admitted to herself for the first time that she had wanted to do it.
"Fine," he said, parking the car in front of the entrance of the mansion.
"Is that it? Aren't you going to scold me for doing it?" she asked, unfastening her seat belt.
"No."
"Then what was all that speech you gave me at the beginning? Didn't you want to get to something with all of that?"
"Addison, it's just sex. We all use sex as a way to escape from problems. Stop overthinking it."
"I'm not overthinking. I cheated on Sam!"
"Let him get over it."
"Just like Derek got over me cheating on him?" she sarcastically laughed. "Technically, I'm in this position because he never got over it. We got divorced because of that!"
"Derek is a whiny baby," he said, getting out of the car. Addison also got out from the other side.
"What am I supposed to do now?"
"Don't tell Sam you slept with your ex. It's simple."
"Of course it's not simple!"
"Was Sam here?"
"No, but..."
"Did anyone who knows you see you last night? Did anyone see you two exchanging bodily fluids in your room?"
"No..."
"Then there's no way he knows. Don't tell him and move on with your life. It's not that difficult."
"But I know I did it! Derek knows what we did!"
"Are you worried about Derek or are you worried about Sam?"
"Sam..."
"Then you shouldn't give a damn what Derek knows. He's your ex, he lives like 1,000 miles away from your city. It's not like you're gonna run into him by chance at the supermarket or on your private beach."
"I don't wanna lie to Sam..."
"Withholding information is not lying."
"Technically, it is. Concealing the truth is lying."
"Technically, you're a compulsive cheater. It's okay, you inherited it from your parents. Learn to lie or start closing your legs," he shrugged and walked straight to the entrance door. She followed him trying to keep her boot heels from sinking in the snow.
"I'm not a compulsive cheater..."
"Derek, Sam, the cop..." he said, counting on his fingers.
"How do you know I cheated on Kevin?"
"I didn't. I suspected, and now I know. He deserved it anyway. I was embarrassed seeing you with that loser," he laughed as he hung his coat on the hallway coat stand.
"God, Archer. This conversation's not helping me at all. You're not giving me a solution!"
"I didn't say I was gonna help you."
"No, but..."
"At least I made you realize that the problem you have is stupid. Really, a serious problem would be if your lesbian mother committed suicide because her assistant died, can you imagine that?" he said sarcastically, walking towards the stairs.
Addison sighed as she watched him go up. Even her brother, the most narcissistic, indifferent, and selfish person she knew, cared more about Bizzy than her.
~•~
Derek had landed on the West Coast at six thirty in the evening, three hours earlier than in Connecticut.
The cold and rainy weather of Seattle welcomed him, enveloping him in a melancholic yet familiar atmosphere as he descended the metal stairs of the plane.
The hustle and bustle of the airport and the constant coming and going of passengers seemed not to disturb his concentration. With determination, he headed towards the baggage carousel where he soon spotted his black suitcase among the sea of bags and luggage belonging to other passengers. He quickly grabbed it by the handle and left the terminal, heading towards the taxi that would take him to Mark's apartment.
Once there, Derek's room was filled with a heavy silence as he closed the door behind him, as if he had brought along the tension he had left behind at his previous destination. With mechanical and precise movements, he placed his suitcase on the floor next to the bed and began to unpack his clothes, which had become a mess in his haste to leave the house that morning.
In the midst of wrinkled shirts and disordered pants, an unfamiliar fabric caught his attention. A garment that did not belong to him and that he clearly did not remember packing when he packed his suitcase. Carefully, Derek took the garment between his fingers and felt a knot in his stomach as he recognized it. It was Addison's bra, which had gotten caught in his clothes when he quickly picked everything up from the floor in his rush.
Damn. It seemed that he and that bra had something in particular because in Connecticut it had been present in his thoughts the entire time and now... now it had traveled with him to Seattle. It was as if the universe was conspiring to remind him that he could not escape his bad decisions.
Derek closed his eyes as he caressed that black lace fabric. It was still as soft and delicate as the night before, when he had taken it off her chest. A sigh escaped his mouth as he brought the garment close to his nose. It still had a gentle scent of vanilla and jasmine. It still smelled like her.
"I thought you were going to a funeral..." Mark said, peeking through the door with a smug smile. Of course, pulling out women's underwear was a way to summon him.
"I did go to a funeral," he said, quickly moving the garment away from his face. He hadn't felt Mark come into the apartment.
"And that bra? Was it part of the black dress code?"
"Of course not."
"Whose is it?"
"It's none of your business," he said without looking at him, continuing to take clothes out of the suitcase.
"Did you get it on the flight? Were you in the VIP section of the plane? Was it a hot flight attendant?"
"No."
"Oh, wait... do you have a double life?"
"What are you talking about, Mark? It's Addison's!"
"Wait a second, is that Addison's bra? Why do you have Add...?" Derek turned to look at him. "Oh, shit. You had sex with Addison!"
Derek didn't respond. There was no need to, Mark knew that embarrassed look on his friend's face confirmed it. Of course he had.
"You had sex with Addison and stole her bra? Seriously, you have a problem with stealing your lovers' underwear."
"I didn't mean to..."
"Is it some kind of perverted kleptomania? Do you need to go to a support group?"
"What? No! I mean... I didn't want to have sex with Addison!" he exclaimed indignantly.
"I imagine, it must have been a small sacrifice to get her lingerie..." Mark said sarcastically.
"I'm serious. I didn't travel with the intention of having sex with Addison! It just... happened."
"The same thing happened to me when I traveled to Los Angeles last year," he laughed.
"What are you talking about?"
"Nothing. Forget it."
Derek breathed out in frustration.
"I was supposed to go to Bizzy's funeral, be at the service, and return to Seattle the next day. But everything started to unravel when The Captain practically forced me to stay at his house."
"I bet he forced you to sleep with his daughter."
"I mean, Amelia had booked a hotel. I should have gone to the hotel... instead I stayed there. In one of the rooms in her house."
"Until you ended up in her room. Things happen, right?"
Derek shook his head, impatient.
"Addison kissed me first. She... was so... you know how Addison is when it comes to her parents and her emotions. She tends to suppress them, she tends to avoid them, to pretend they don't exist. She spent the whole day in autopilot, attending to guests with a fake smile that didn't reflect any emotion. I could see her falling apart from the pain but she was still there, holding a champagne glass in her hand. Delivering empty, memorized speeches. My blood ran cold just seeing her there trying to hold it together. I pushed her to let it out, to release the repressed pain inside her and... she kissed me."
"I see."
"And yes, I know it was an impulsive kiss. I showed interest in her and gave her the security to let go, she didn't really want to kiss me. But that damn kiss... I don't know, it was the starting point for me to start reconsidering my feelings towards her. Being there with her, in her house, with her family, spending time together in Connecticut like we used to before, visiting places that used to be ours... I don't know, Mark. Maybe that made me start looking at her differently."
"So you had sex..."
"So we had a few drinks, we argued and... yes. We had sex. And it was great."
"So... are you in love with her?" he asked mockingly. Derek hated that he could never take anything seriously.
"Of course not."
"You talk as if you were in love."
"I'm not. Addison is in a relationship."
Mark let out an involuntary laugh. It was a bit funny, wasn't it? She was still cheating.
"She's with Sam," Derek added.
"With Bennett?" he asked incredulously.
"Yes."
"Damn."
"And I told her she was a whore."
"Oh, man."
"I shouldn't have done that, it's just that... I don't know, Mark. I..."
"You fell in love with her again," he insisted.
"Maybe deep down I never stopped loving her..."
"Ouch."
"For a moment, I thought I could've a fresh start with her again, but..."
"But she's still sleeping with your med school friends," Mark laughed again.
"Yes. And fury burned through my veins, it was a suffocating sensation, it was disappointment, anger, helplessness... I insulted her. I hurt her. I gathered all my clothes from the floor and left her house telling her I never wanted to see her again."
"And you stole her bra."
"I didn't mean to... it was under my clothes. I didn't realize when I took it."
"And now you want to see her again..."
"No. I don't know."
"You wouldn't be like this if you didn't want to see her again. If you didn't feel guilty..."
"Maybe."
"Apologize to her. Tell her you were an idiot."
"Are you kidding? She won't forgive me."
"Try."
"Even if I try, what would be the point? She's not going to leave Sam. She's not going to be with me. It doesn't make sense for me to put her through this because of my confusion."
"Is it just confusion?" he said, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
"Probably."
"Call her and apologize."
~•~
It was midnight in Connecticut, and the cold outside continued to seep through the fogged windows of Addison's bathroom. The snowstorm had stopped, leaving behind a frozen calm that enveloped the atmosphere.
She had been submerged in the bathtub for a few hours. The water had cooled and was not even comforting her, but she refused to leave that refuge. Derek's words were playing in her mind in an endless loop, squeezing her soul.
"You slept with all three men in our group. Congratulations, quite a record!"
"With you, easy sex is always guaranteed, if you don't even make the slightest effort to keep your legs closed!"
"I want to leave and never see you again in my life!"
"Whore!"
Now her tears mixed with the icy water of the bathtub, and guilt invaded her once again. She was still crying for her ex-husband and not for her mother.
"A serious problem would be if your lesbian mother committed suicide because her assistant died, can you imagine that?" her brother had said to her earlier.
It wasn't a competition, or an obligation to cry for her mother, but... why was the situation with him affecting her more than Bizzy's death? Why had he come back after so many years to continue torturing her?
She hated him for that. She hated him for stealing the spotlight in her thoughts. She hated him for disrupting her priorities and always remaining in first place. She was supposed to have enough pain to deal with, without having to carry a new one that she hadn't even imagined six years after the divorce.
She sighed and got out of the bathtub. Her skin was already too wrinkled and starting to irritate from the amount of foam she had added to the water.
In the distance, she could hear her cellphone ringing on her nightstand, but she had decided to ignore it. She didn't want to talk to anyone or read any messages.
Her attention was focused on the mirror in her bathroom, which reflected to her a picture of a large purple hickey above her left breast that she hadn't noticed earlier. It was a clear reminder of the previous night, in case she forgot.
"That son of a bitch," she muttered angrily as she wrapped her body in a towel and walked out of the bathroom door.