John starts moving toward me. “Claire, honey, maybe put down the microphone? Let’s talk about this somewhere else? Somewhere more private?” He’s speaking to me like I’m a toddler, and it makes my blood go cold.
“Like under the stairs? Where I just caught you?”
He looks around, shrugs and smiles, visibly uncomfortable.
“I devoted twenty-three years to this man,” I say. “Twenty. Three.Gave up everything to make sure he had the life—and thewife—he wanted. And this is how things end up? Tossed aside for some discount Barbie who, by the looks of it, hasn’t even hit puberty yet.”
“Claire!” John is standing on the floor right in front of me, wearing a look that used to mean something to me.
“Is she old enough to drink from the bar?” I say into the mic, causing a little feedback.
“Knock it off,” he says through gritted teeth.
I take a step closer to the edge of the stage, hold the mic so it’s touching my chin, and glare right back. “How long has this been going on?”
“Claire, you’re acting like a child.”
“How.Long. John.” I say this into the microphone, and the sound of my own voice booms through the speakers.
“Come outside and we’ll talk about this.” He reaches up and tries to put a hand on my leg.
“Don’ttouchme,” I snarl, voice quavering.
All I see is red. Hurt and anger are now driving the car.
“I gave you everything.” Tears spring to my eyes. “Everything, John.”
John sighs. Behind him, I can see a whole table of beautifully dressed people, eyes averted like they’re witnessing something they shouldn’t be.
And they are.
The demise of my marriage.
Behind them, I see multiple phones pointed in my direction. “You’refilmingthis?” I shout, throwing down the microphone, making it thump and whine loudly through the speakers. I start making my way down the steps, not in control and not knowing what I’m doing. “Is this entertaining to you?!”
John lunges for the microphone, nodding to Mr. Burrows, the hospital rep, who meets me at the edge of the stage and puts an arm around me to stop me from making my way into the crowd.
He turns me toward Marcie, who’s standing helplessly off to the side.
I hear John’s voice in the mic.
“Well, hey, everyone, uh...” He fumbles a bit. “Let’s take a brief couple minutes and then see if we can get this night back on track, shall we?”
Back on track?
I break. The anger and hurt are too much, and I can actually feel my mind snap, and I can’t hold in the emotion.
I fold, crumpling into Mr. Burrows’s arms, sobbing.
I can’t think. I can’t see, and the world as I knew it lay in pieces at my feet.
Once the whole story is out there, I can’t take it back.
The emotions are as fresh now as they were then, and the tears on my face are proof.
Miles is now the only person I’ve ever told it to. Obviously, lots of people were there to witness this disaster, but I don’t talk about it. Ever.
Until now, apparently.
