Rewrite the Stars by Christina Consolino (classic fiction TXT) 📗

more, and people depended on me. Before Theo came back—if he came back—I hoped I’d align myself again and find a conclusion to send me up the right path, whatever that might be.

Chapter 31: Sadie

 

When Theo and I decided to separate, he still couldn’t admit to being wrong. Or admit even though he’d been dealt a bad hand in life, he’d chosen to join the service and go to Afghanistan. Or admit he’d played a role in how his life unfurled. He’d been that way since I’d met him, but I’d had no reservations about the characteristic. Because I loved him; because he got me; because he cared for me more than anyone else; because he was my best friend, and I could imagine growing old with him.

After Theo started seeing a therapist, I thought he’d become more willing to admit his weaknesses, and he’d let me help him more on a day-to-day basis as his mental facilities fluctuated, not battle me each time he needed something. I naively thought he’d say, “You’re right, honey. This situation is stressing me out, and I’d love to go for a walk right now. Thank you.” I imagined PTSD would humble him and make him more compassionate for those who were hurting. But it never happened. I didn’t know why he was the way he was, but his inability to ask for help played a part in our separation, and the need to be right meant this time away for Theo could be long. I’d have to buck up and deal with it because Theo might take all the time he needed and then some, despite the children.

But why hadn’t he at least checked in with us? I’d left messages for him, asking him to call the kids, to speak to them and inform them he’d be home for Christmas. Nothing. And by Monday morning, two days had passed, and my ire had grown. “You can stay somewhere else if you have to,” I muttered to myself, “but the kids need you. I’m the one you’re angry with, not them.”

That morning, a distant headache and thoughts about how to sever the family successfully joined me on my way to work. I also thought about the kids and if splitting completely with Theo when my relationship with Andrew wasn’t a sure thing was the way to go. But even if Andrew and I never became a unit, this same problem might arise again at some point. I needed to be proactive and try—what?—I didn’t know. Perhaps Theo’s therapist held the answer.

As I entered my office, enormous doubts plagued me. But the plant on my desk from Andrew —amaryllis, one of my favorites—put a smile on my face. And the files on my computer and the monotony of the morning took me away from my thoughts. I spent the first half of the day holed up, drowning myself in the unremarkable tasks that had piled up while I was away. They proved to be therapeutic in a surreal way, and I made my way home extra early, ready to tackle the afternoon and evening with the kids.

But the illusion of happiness can be fragile. Right after lunch, I stood in the kitchen, finishing up the odd dishes as Lexie frolicked outside in the front yard. The unseasonably warm weather had surged once again and being able to send my youngest outside was a godsend. Brooke sat on a chair in the driveway, making sure Lexie didn’t run into the street. Their laughter filtered through the window I had cracked, and the sound tickled my ears. Amongst the loud noises came the crunch of tires and a squeal of delight. Had Theo returned?

I rushed to the bathroom to check the state of my appearance and stood shocked, looking at my reflection. It had been months since my hair had seen the inside of a beauty salon, and I’d lost my Walloon Lake glow, but I was the same Sadie he’d seen for the past fifteen years. No better, no worse, just myself. Why did I care? My legs began to shake, and I held myself against the wall to keep from crumbling.

I waited long enough to gather my courage and then approached the front of the house. Andrew, not Theo, stood there speaking with Brooke, a look of concern on both their faces. My entire being reacted in the usual way: a quick flutter in my stomach and a flood of warmth throughout my chest. The phone in my pocket buzzed, twice, and I pulled it out to check the message. The first, from my Mom:

Have you spoken with Andrew?

The second, came from an unidentified number:

Mom, it’s me. Charlie. The presentation has been moved up to today, this afternoon. Can you get here?

Before I had time to reply to any texts, Andrew was in front of me, sadness flaring in his eyes, fingers gripped against my shoulders. A large, purple bruise lined up along his nose, and his right eye didn’t open fully. I reached out with my fingers to touch the battered skin.

“What the—”

“We need to go. Theo stopped by mom’s place days ago, he was angry with me, with us, and—” The words rushed from Andrew in a manner I hadn’t experienced since Delia had taken a terrifying plunge down the hill in a neighbor’s yard, and Charlie was trying to explain what had happened. My pulse quickened, and this time, fear, not lust, caused it.

But something in Andrew’s face, part defensive, part guilty, confused me. “Wait a minute—you know Theo? What the hell? How?”

“We met a while ago now—at the gym. I didn’t know you two were a couple. Listen.” Andrew caught my chin in his hand. “Theo stopped by Mom’s house, and he didn’t even give me a chance to say anything. Punched me a few times before I had the chance to explain anything—knocked me out, almost—and walked out the door. I stayed silent for a few days and