Part 1 (2/2)

”I know that looks bad, but there was a storm last night and cars on the road outside of the hospital were spinning out left and right on black ice. They actually ended up closing the road for a while. I called Nina to let her know I'd be spending the night there. Believe me, it was the last thing I wanted to do, and she didn't seem that upset over the phone. I thought she'd understand given the situation.”

Skylar pulled the baby off her breast and covered herself. Handing him to Mitch, she got up from the couch and proceeded to smack me lightly upside the head.

”What the f.u.c.k, Skylar?”

”I'm sorry. I just had to do that,” she said as she sat back down. ”Are you insane, Jake? Do you really think there are any circ.u.mstances under which it's okay to spend the night with your ex-wife?”

”I told you. They'd closed the road. It was impossible to get home.”

”I get it, but you can at least understand that even though you had no choice, Nina still has a right to be p.i.s.sed about it.”

I knew she was right. I had f.u.c.ked up.

Skylar continued, ”Still, though, something doesn't sound right. I could see her being upset, but why would she leave?”

”That's what I'm trying to figure out.”

”What did she say when she left?”

”When I walked in the door, she was waiting with her coat on ready to go. She said she needed to get away. I asked if it had to do with the fact that I slept at the hospital, and she came back with 'what do you think?' If I thought for one second she'd feel that way, I would have f.u.c.king ice skated home last night. I really didn't think it would bother her like it did.”

”Everyone has their limits.”

I nodded to myself, feeling like s.h.i.+t for hurting her. It had been almost eight hours, and I missed her so much. I just wanted to hold her and tell her how much I loved her and spend the rest of the night making love to her. But even stronger than that need was the ache in my chest, a deep knowing that there was something more to this than just my staying at the hospital.

Mitch returned from the kitchen with a beer. ”Man, forgive me for saying this, but I don't really understand how the h.e.l.l you do it.”

”Do what?”

”Go to see her like you do every week. I honestly don't think Skylar could handle it if it were me.”

Skylar rocked the baby to sleep. ”It's easy to say that, but people find ways of handling things when they have to. Lord knows, I've handled enough when it comes to us, Mitch.” She looked at me. ”You didn't ask to be in this situation.”

That was why I loved Skylar. She was wise. She understood that I didn't really have a choice. Sure, in life, we're free to do what we want, but when you're trying to do the right thing, there is only one choice. It's not always the easiest choice. Ivy was more like a child to me at this point than an ex-wife. She had no other family and deep down, Nina understood why I couldn't just abandon her, why Ivy needed the continuity of seeing someone who cared about her at least once a week. Nina had always put aside her own needs to allow me to continue to look out for Ivy within reason. That was one of the things I loved about my wife. But I also understood that it would never be easy for her, and I carried a lot of guilt about that. There were rules, though. Visits were only once a week on Sat.u.r.days, and if we had a family obligation, that would always come first.

Mitch took a swig of his beer then turned to me. ”Did Nina always know about Ivy?”

I bent my head back against the chair, thinking about the days when we first met and the can of worms he just opened up with that question. ”No.”

Skylar smiled at me. She was one of the only people we were still friends with who also knew us back then. ”Jake was still married to Ivy when he met Nina.”

Mitch looked shocked. ”Say what?”

I chuckled. ”You didn't know that?”

”No. I had no idea.” He put his feet up on the coffee table. ”I'd love to hear this.”

”I've heard Nina's version, but I wouldn't mind hearing yours,” Skylar said as she walked a sleeping Mitch Jr. over to a portable crib set up in the corner of the room.

I settled back in my seat and crossed my arms. ”How much time do you have?”

CHAPTER 2.

Past.

The lights of the city illuminated the night sky as I looked out of Ivy's bedroom window. This was always the most peaceful part of the weekend, when she would nap, and I would just watch her sleep before saying goodbye and boarding the late train back to New York City for the week.

Feelings of guilt always crept in right about this time because I'd once again be leaving her alone until the following weekend. There was always too much time to think here when Ivy was either sleeping or in one of her catatonic states. But I'd take these moments anytime over one of her paranoid episodes.

I contemplated what my life had become. It was unconventional to say the least and very hard to explain to anyone. Some days, it felt like there was no one else in the world who could possibly understand. So, very few people in New York knew about these weekends in Boston, knew about my life. You couldn't explain this situation very easily to people in a way that they'd truly get it. The questions alone would make my head spin.

Why do you stay with her, Jake?

How can you f.u.c.k other women when you're technically married?

Did you move to New York to get away from her?

The few times I'd opened up to the wrong people about Ivy, I'd regretted it. I didn't need the sympathy or judgment of people who'd never walked in my shoes.

I was practically a kid when I met my wife.

My wife.

I looked down at Ivy's back rising and falling as she slept. We were legally married, but she felt more like a child to me now than a spouse. This wasn't a marriage in the intimate sense or in any way that might make a marriage pleasurable.

Ivy and I met six years ago on Huntington Avenue outside Northeastern University when I was a freshman. She was dancing alone in the rain, and I was instantly captivated. The more I got to know her in the weeks that followed, the more mesmerized I became. She was like no other girl I'd ever met. She played guitar and had some gigs at local venues. As cool as she came off, she didn't have many close friends. I became her entire life. She was impulsive, reckless and had an aura about her that was contagious.

She convinced me to run off to Vegas with her one weekend. Before I knew it, I was eighteen and married by the power vested in Elvis.

Within six months, I knew I'd made a mistake. I truly cared about Ivy, the s.e.x was the best of my life up until that point, and she intrigued me, but I knew that I really wasn't in love with her the way you needed to be in order to spend the rest of your life with someone. Still, I told myself that we could make it work, that I could grow to love her.

Not long into our marriage, things started slowly changing for the worse. Ivy was exhibiting some strange behaviors. At first, it was subtle, like she'd skip cla.s.ses or not show up for work. Eventually, it catapulted into something beyond my control-something that would change our lives.

Ivy would accuse me of everything under the sun from cheating to plotting to hurt her. She started chain-smoking heavily. She was turning into a different person before my eyes. I didn't understand what was happening, but my better instincts told me she was going to need me even though I was tempted to leave.

Then, on top of everything else, her mother died suddenly. Ivy had no other family except for me. She became more and more dependent, and I became more and more afraid to abandon her in that state. Eventually, it became clear that she needed to be evaluated. I'd put it off, afraid of what the doctors would do to her, but it had gotten to a point where she couldn't even be left alone while I was at work. She'd take off her clothes and roam the street, accuse random strangers of rape, accuse me of rape or devising a plan to murder her. The list of delusions was endless.

I'd heard of schizophrenia but never really understood it. When doctors gave her the formal diagnosis, I read everything I could on it, went to support groups and tried to handle it in the only ways I knew how. Eventually, I had to put her in a group home because I couldn't work and take care of her at the same time.

Some days were better than others. On her best day, a stranger wouldn't be able to tell there was anything wrong. On her worst, I was scared she would take her own life. None of the meds they tried in the early days ever worked, and her illness was considered medically resistant. In the years since, they'd managed to find the right combination to help a little, but it's still not enough. Anything that did work just kept her in a zombie-like state.

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