“What about us?” Marissa asks. “What about me?”
“I know this is hard,” I begin, trying to find the right words. But what the fuck can I say? In Marissa’s eyes, I died, I came back to life, and now I’m married. All without a formal breakup or closure.
Do I break up with her?
Isn’t the situation obvious?
I run my fingers through my hair as my head spins. What is the fucking situation? I don’t even know it myself.
Ms. Evans tries to cut through the awkward air. “Can I get anyone anything to eat or drink?” I don’t blame the woman one bit for wanting to flee to the kitchen.
“No, thank you. I think Ember and I need to go get showered and some rest,” I say, knowing I too want to flee this room, but I understand I can’t just run from my problems. “Marissa… I understand this is a lot to take in. I wish I had all the right things to say, but I don’t know what they are. All I know is that right now, I have to take things one minute at a time. I need to shower. I need to process. I need to breathe. I also understand that you have questions. Lots of questions. But can we discuss this all tomorrow? It’s been a really long day after months of even longer days. Can you give me that?” I look to my mother. “Can you both give me that?”
“I’ve prepared your old room for you, Christopher, and I also prepared the guest room for Ember,” Ms. Evans says.
“No need for the guest room. We’ll both be using mine,” I inform everyone.
“Christopher!” my mother says with a loud gasp as she takes a step toward Marissa in a sign of camaraderie and loyalty. “I think that’s far from appropriate. I think Ember will be perfectly comfortable in the guest room.”
“I’m not going to leave Ember alone right now. I made a promise, and I’m going to stick to it.”
I know I’m hurting Marissa. I know I’m upsetting my mother. But as I take Ember’s hand to lead her upstairs, I also know I have a responsibility to Ember… to my wife.
“Christopher,” my mother calls to me as we are at the top of the stairs. I prepare to spin on my heels and snap her head off. I’m losing patience, and I am in no mood to have her argue with me as to where Ember’s going to sleep. “I’ll give some of my clothes to Ember until we have a chance to go shopping. We look like we are close in size. I also had some of your old belongings boxed up. Ms. Evans pulled the clothes out for you.”
Surprised by her act of kindness to a woman who I can clearly see she dislikes, I look over my shoulder and give her a smile. “Thank you, Mom. I appreciate that.” I glance at Marissa, who has tears in her eyes and a blotchy face. “We can all meet and talk it out tomorrow. Goodnight.”
When we enter my room, I release a deep breath I didn’t realize I must have been holding. It’s odd to see my old room, not that it really was my room from my childhood. My mother completely remodeled it when I went off to college, so it’s really just another guest room with a queen-sized bed, dressers, and nightstands imported from Paris. She was so proud of the room, but it wasn’t my taste at all. I much preferred clean, modern lines over the antique feel, but it made my mother happy.
When I close the door, Ember speaks for the first time. “Who is Marissa?”
Jesus, I need sleep and don’t feel like talking anymore, but I also know Ember deserves her questions answered. “She was my girlfriend before.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“There’s a lot about me and my life prior to meeting you that you don’t know, Ember. You have to understand that. But should I have told you I had a girlfriend? Yes. And I apologize. I should have prepared you for this—although, in all fairness, I didn’t think she’d be waiting for me the minute I arrived home. I thought I’d have some time.”
“You had a girlfriend? But you married me?” she asks softly, and although I’m growing frustrated with the situation—it’s not like any of this is my fucking fault—I try to keep my calm. Ember doesn’t deserve my wrath.
“I didn’t have a choice in marrying you.” The minute the words leave my mouth, I regret them.
Ember nearly wobbles to the edge of the bed and sits down, looking down at the oriental rug. She kicks off her shoes and wiggles her freed toes.
“I understand that,” Ember says as she then looks up at me. “But we’re married now. I know your mother says we aren’t. But I believe we are. Under God, we are. In my heart and soul, we are. How do you feel?”