Chris
I got home, and Sita was in the shower, so I waited for her in the living room. She soon came out dressed in her PJs and greeted me. Usually, she wouldn't even notice me. Her saying 'hello' was new... but she kept herself busy in the kitchen. Whenever something like that happened in the past, I would get hopeful. She would crush it the very next second when nothing ever did, "I need to talk to you."
"I am a little busy right now," she said, probably sensing trouble was coming.
"Sita!" I yelled… It didn't even scare her, "I said… I need to talk to you!"
Calmly, she walked over and sat down, folding her hands on her lap.
I sat on the coffee table across from her so our eyes were level, "Why are you staying with me?" I asked as sincerely as I could.
"Where is all of this coming from, Christopher?" She asked in such a condescending way that I wanted to slap her. I wondered why I had ever married her in the first place. I was irritated and frustrated. It had been a weird weekend.
"If you don't talk to me tonight, I'm going to see my lawyer on Monday. Ask him how to move forward from here. I'll move out, and you won't see me again."
She squinted her eyes. I could see her mind was going in a thousand directions, "I am not ready to get a divorce." The words were unwanted. I was disappointed. In the back of my mind, I hoped she would just get out of my life so I could be free.
"We can't go on like this! I don't want to cheat on you… but it's come to that. Before I do… I would rather leave you." I knew how it sounded, being straightforward and to the point. It just wasn't normal. My hands rubbed over my face.
"What?" She stood up, yelling. "You're cheating on me?"
I pulled her back down on the couch, "Sit down! I haven't! But I need a full marriage, or else I'll go mad! Do you even understand intimacy? Don't you long for that?"
"You are being really aggressive tonight."
"Sita! Stop changing the subject! I'm sick of this! I'm sick of—" I cut off before saying the words running around my mind for the last two years.
She smirked, "Sick of me? Is that what you wanted to say?"
"I tried to talk to you! A year into this mess… And heaven knows I tried. Counseling… Trips… Presents, being at home so you would know I wasn't going anywhere. What did you do?" She didn't answer the guilt written on her features. "You wouldn't talk to me. Never! Not even one normal conversation." She stood up and turned away from me. I grabbed her wrist and flung her around, letting go immediately.
The image of Juliet's wrist in my hand flashed in my mind. I compared the feeling of Sita's skin to Juliet's hand slowly going into my pocket, gripping my fingers. The pulsating warmth flashed through my whole body. Juliet's willingness to touch me… I shook my head. It was not the time to go down that road. Yes, Juliet is gorgeous, young, and open. She would let anyone in that would take that first step. Why, with Sita, was it impossible to get her to say even one word that meant something? She was still quiet. My blood was boiling, "You're in love with Juliet Farrow."
My head snapped up, "What? F—! How do you even know about Juliet?"
"Everyone knows about her crush on you. It seems like you're the only one not acknowledging the fact. Wait… no! You have noticed. And that is how I know. Do you think I can't see your eyes on her everywhere… Looking for her… Searching the school grounds like a fool."
I pulled Sita back down and made her sit. She had crossed a line. She could've let it go and focused on us… The final straw was shifting the blame to me and bringing Juliet into it.
"So what? As if no man has looked at a pretty girl before." I tried to keep it cool. My insides were going nuts. It felt like I wanted to throw up. The fear that it might come out haunted me and began to look like a real possibility. "You're not changing the subject tonight! Even if I shove you down on that couch the whole evening." I softened my tone, "You say you're not ready to get a divorce… Are you ready then… to sleep with me?" I tried taking her hand in mine, "Because if you're not… I'm leaving." She recoiled away from me, making the truth of the situation sink in. I got up off the table and stood a little away from her.
"Tonight? Right now? After all of this?"
"Why not? We can either have make-up sex, or I'm leaving… Waiting till you're ready for me to touch you isn't going to happen. I can't even hold your hand," Sita guiltily rubbed her hands together. "You know I've tried! Sita… talking to you now, like this… It makes me realize that I've been the only one trying. What have you done? And I'm asking for something so small. Why can you not just give in to this? I'm not asking you to sleep with me once a day or three times a week. All I want is if I need to, I need to… If I repulse you that much, then I ask again, why… aren't you ready to get a divorce?"
Still, with my back to her, she took the gap I created, nimbly jumped over the back of the couch, and ran to her room. She slammed the door and locked it. I screamed something inaudible, ran my hands over my face and fingers through my hair, frustratingly gripping chunks full. I thought I would go mad with anger. The rejection was too much. I was at the point where I was going to do something stupid to get a release of all the pent-up energy.
For a split second, I thought about Juliet being a teenager. It was hard having all those needs, wanting to connect, and doing stupid things to find it… Juliet was reaching out to me… and I was slapping her away like my wife had been doing to me for so long. I had flinched from her hand in my pocket. Tears were on the brink of falling. I stopped myself—I wasn't going to cry anymore. Making Juliet sad the previous night only made me push her into Louis's arms. I screamed again, slapping myself on the cheeks. I went to the kitchen, splashing my face with cold water. You've made your decision, and you warned Sita, I scolded myself.
I walked to my study and slammed the door open. My bag and keys were waiting on the table. I printed new divorce papers and grabbed them. I walked to and from the garage with a hammer—toward Sita's room and loudly nailed the documents into the door. She didn't make a peep. I slammed the door with my fist, "You leave me no choice!" I yelled. Stomping down the hall, I grabbed my bag and walked out the front door, not so much as a glance back at the house. I sped out of there as fast as I could. I kept driving and driving, not knowing where I would end up. I had never lost my cool with her like that—always avoided conflict.
Knowing Juliet and I were on the line was fueling me. About us, I hadn't made up my mind… If Sita knew about her, would other people know? Would I get in trouble? Or worse, go to jail? I shook my head—nothing had happened… It didn't seem like Louis was worried about that… I wondered why? He was holding onto her like she was a lifeline… He had said something strange the previous night. 'Humans had so many hang-ups,' it meant he was also not human. The noise earlier that night at the bridge and him appearing right after scared me. What were they? And did I really want to get involved in all of that?
I had been driving for hours and was about four towns over when Sita sent me a text.
Sita { I have moved out for now
You can come home.
I am moving in with Nicholas.
I am ready for the next step in our relationship. It is just going to take me some time. Just give me two more weeks. If nothing has happened by then. I will sign the papers. We can go on with our lives.
And you can have your Juliet }
I slammed the steering wheel—repeatedly. Since walking out of the house, I relished the feeling of freedom, and driving away from Sita was a massive part of it! From a job I didn't want to do anymore and leaving the temptation I knew would catch up to me sooner or later.
I stayed away until later that week, deciding, while I slept in a motel, thinking… How to go forward from there? I would have to do something to make Juliet understand and end it. Whatever "it" was. I would have to avoid her at all costs and resign. Writing a letter would be best… ending it on paper… like divorce papers. That idea didn't sit well with me, and it took all my strength to do what I had to do.
It was two days of torture being back at school, planning to break up with my little stalker. It was harder than I thought it would be. I got her schedule, chose the best period, and planned it for Friday. Handed in my resignation… I gave my two weeks' notice… I had to plan, or I wouldn't have gone through with it.
I was going back and forth about kicking Sita to the curb, getting Juliet in my car, and driving away from everything and everyone. I didn't want to close the future to us, but I had to. Sita asked for two weeks. I would give it to her.
***
Sita
Chris was hammering into the door. I was so scared he would take it down. Standing in my werewolf form in my own bedroom was terrifying. If he saw me, he would hate me forever. Even be repulsed. I was ugly. The mirror in front of me didn't lie.
The incessant pounding stopped, and Chris yelled something, I couldn't even make it out. One of the reasons I couldn't sleep with Chris was because I looked like that. I could not imagine him opening his eyes and finding a dog underneath him. I shook myself and headed for the bathroom. Got under the coldest shower and tried to get out of that funk. I heard his car leave and instantly turned back to human. Why was I so out of control? I glanced at the calendar on the bathroom wall—no wonder—next weekend was a full moon.
After that, if I had to sleep with him, it could work. It really wasn't an excuse; I could just do it during the day. I packed my stuff and rushed down the corridor; I wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. I passed the second bedroom and slowed—it was Christopher's room. I caught a glimpse of the bed and the mess he had made. I pushed the door open and went inside. I haven't been in there in a while. He tried for one year but gave up and slowly moved on with his life. He had been frustrated, unhappy, and slowly dying inside. I had been drinking and smoking, doing whatever I could to forget him. Being able to manifest and kill people, coupled with losing control on a full moon, gave me a release of some kind—one he didn't get to experience. Once a month, I had to sleep at Nicholas's house. At first, Chris complained, but after a while, he relished the time I wasn't at home.
He wasn't coming home; his clothes and all his toiletries were gone—he was serious. I had tried to blame this on a girl. It was a mistake bringing up Juliet… The only one that was to blame was me; all he needed was something, and I gave him nothing. I texted Chris and told him to come home, that I would think about things, and that he should give me two weeks. I needed to have a long talk with my grandfather. He and Louis knew each other.
That Wednesday, Chris showed up at school, leaving me relieved that he wasn't going to give up. I had some time to get over myself and make us work. I would never be able to yearn for him like I saw Juliet do. He deserved real love, but we were in a relationship, and if he was giving up things, I would have to start. I tried to remember why I married Chris. Even on our first date, the physical part was there, or I think it was—I thought it was. I wanted it to happen naturally, and it did. I got a job at the school to see if he would notice me or if something would happen between us. Chris brought his part to the table; he was immediately attracted to me. The attention I gave him was just enough, and I liked the idea of being the one who got to be with the hybrid. The one who got attention from the rest of the werewolf community, saying no to other werewolves who did pursue me.
We dated, and it all happened so quickly. After the wedding, everything was not the big hype I made it out to be. The first night was over, and I didn't get pregnant. Our daily lives went on; all I saw was being stuck in a small town with nothing to do, living with a person I didn't love. I had moved from a big city, and it was hard leaving all my friends behind to take on the duty… It didn't weigh out in the end. Nevertheless, I had to seriously consider it, giving him a few ultimatums of my own.
***
Juliet
The last time I saw Chris was the night at the bridge, and I hadn't spoken to Louis either. He avoided me, knowing I would ask him what happened with Chris Saturday evening. Getting back into routine was boring; Chris wasn't at the assembly or even at school, and it meant no distraction. I couldn't follow him.
When Chris made his appearance, he seemed different. He wasn't looking for me anymore—no, he avoided me. It was as if nothing had happened, as if Chris had never noticed me all those months ago. That whole year had been exciting, eventful, and if he was going to ignore me completely, it would suck. My mom's words kept going round and round in my head, 'Enjoying life.' Well, seemed like Chris had become a significant part of it. Even if our little rituals stopped for a time, after that weekend, I was ready to go back to the way it was because Chris seemed to want us but at a distance.
The rest of the week passed with him not looking in my direction once. That was until the third period on Friday when he came to take me out of class. It caught me totally off guard, a sick sense of dread in my stomach, twisting and not making butterflies anymore. That feeling you got when you knew someone was about to dump you. I've had two such guys who I really liked who turned out not to feel the same about me after all. They didn't humiliate me; they just didn't see themselves with me—which was the worst. But Chris behaving like that was different. I felt like vomiting and running… I wanted him to not say the words out loud, 'Leave me alone, Juliet. You are not enough.'
The process was much the same as the first time. Chris and I walked out of the class together, but this time, I stopped right outside so he could say what he wanted to say and get it over with. He was walking toward the stairs, but I didn't want to follow him. His mannerism was weird and not in a good way. He came back up a few steps, grabbed my hand, and pulled me forward down the first flight. He had chosen that class specifically—he thought every detail through. My shyness was gone in an instant; all my nerves about Chris disappeared—he became just a guy, and offense took root. I wasn't little Juliet anymore. I went into full-on strong, confident, and fake it till you make it, Juliet. I could read his features and wanted to pull my hand out of his like he did Saturday with me. He didn't let me, "Just wait!" he said in an irritated manner. What did I do to him? Was this all because I pushed a little? Gave into one weakness.
In his other hand, he held an envelope. He was holding onto me so he could force me to take it from him. Confused and hurt, I stared at the white death sentence. Was he going to explain things in a letter? Stupid Juliet had a sliver of hope that he couldn't speak to me in person. That he needed to tell me in a note. He let go of my hand, sliding his fingers over mine. Was I misjudging his manners for nerves? "I'm sorry, Juliet," There it was. I scoffed at myself. No, I wasn't wrong. I quickly turned away from him and heard him repeat the words, "I'm really sorry."
"Coward!" I know it was mean. I was only retorting out of anxiety. Everyone knew Chris and his wife had no kind of relationship. There could be no reason other than her, right? If he wanted her, then so be it. The rest of the day was torture, with the letter burning into my back. There was no way I would let my bag out of my sight.
After school, I kept to my regular routine, walking home with my friends. We had nothing planned after the disaster of last week. Charlene wasn't herself, and I wanted to spend time with her. Tried, but she wouldn't budge in opening up to me. Something was up with her; Carl and I had talked about it, but he didn't know either and was worried. Louis didn't show himself at our house, kept to his class, and didn't make our relationship an issue at school. To everyone else, we didn't even know each other. If he wasn't my neighbor or if my parents didn't talk about him every day, I would think my imagination made up his whole existence. I haven't even told Carl or Charlene about him—how could I?
At home, I went to sit on my bed, propping my bag up next to me, and hurriedly unzipped the secret compartment. Once the white rectangle was in my hand, I hesitated. The paper inside wasn't special—just a typical sheet with lines on it. It wasn't going to be a declaration of his feelings; it was way too short for that. I took a breath and read the few lines.
Juliet.
Not in my wildest dreams would I have thought someone like you would ever have feelings for someone like me.
I just know that the struggles our relationship would bring about, would pull us apart sooner than we both want to believe.
I don't want to hurt you. I can't stand that look in your eyes.
From now on, I won't give you any indication that something can happen between us. I don't want to lead you on. I have no hope this can work.
When you are weak… I will be strong. And when I am weak, you must be strong.
Please, Juliet.
C.
I had no words, no thoughts, but I had tears. Ones I didn't even know were there. I bit my lip so hard I broke the skin, tasting blood. It hurt, but nothing wanted to get my emotions under control. I manifested in and out. I disappeared and reappeared. I was shaking, and the tears didn't want to stop. I struggled to breathe, and then my phone rang, making me spin around. I checked the screen, hoping it was an unknown number; maybe it was Chris saying he had made a mistake. Louis's name popped up. What was it with him? Ignoring me the whole week and on weekends, he wanted to claim my time? At that moment, all I was doing was living from Friday to Friday, waiting for my next fix to get me out of the mundane routine. I wasn't enjoying my life… I hated school! I hated Louis! I hated Chris!
A sudden whooshing noise outside my window startled me again. I frowned, walked over, and pulled back the curtains. My eye caught something, but who the hell could be out there. Putting my head out, I didn't see anything. I closed it, locked it, and drew the curtains again. The letter and the envelope loomed over me. That same searing pain I got from being infected shot through my head. It felt ten times worse. Weak, my knees buckled; I was so tired I fell onto my bed, gripping my pillow and the letter together.