Counterpoint

Chapter 69

Alexander

   I wake up with a start, my skin slick with chilled sweat. The room remains dark with a few persistent rays of moonlight clawing their way past the curtain and resting on the ceiling. My palm rests on the side of the bed where Thomas would typically sleep, cold and unruffled sheets slide underneath my fingertips. It has only been four days and I already feel as if I am being eaten alive. Both his absence and my secret are gnawing away at me, making it impossible to sleep or find any sort of peace. He is in Virginia and I am here worrying about how he is going to react to the knowledge of Eliza being pregnant with yet another one of my children.

   His blissful ignorance is painful. I feel as if I have somehow broken some form of sacred trust by allowing her to do this. Neglecting to tell him for as long as I have, how do I bring up the words in casual conversation? Is it even possible to hold a conversation about such a topic? I can imagine that it would be more a confession of guilt on my part, perhaps Thomas will surprise me and allow me to explain. If I can find any way to explain why this has happened.

   My mind screams at me to pick up my phone and confess all of my sins to him and beg him for his forgiveness. Would he forgive me after learning everything I had done? I feel as if he would view as a lie of omission, holding back the information that would affect him the most only to have it crash into him later down the road. When it would suit me better than him. There is a distance that is beginning to grow in-between the two of us, it feels similar to how it had formed with Eliza.

   A painful secret that grew into an executioner's blade, severing us from one another forever.

   I grab my phone from the nightstand and stare at the blaring white numbers reflecting the early hour. My heart is pounding painfully in my chest, slamming against my bones urging me into action. The screen is cold against my feverish skin, my eyes squinting as I try to ignore the white glow of the screen. I hesitate when my brain finally registers the time, it is only two in the morning. No one in their right mind would still be awake. I shouldn't be awake, but alas I am consumed by a guilty conscious and the bitter ache that resonates with every rapid beat of my heart. 

   I stare at my home screen with blank eyes. Would it be better for him to simply find out on his own? It wouldn't take him long to do the math and discover the truth. Him finding out on his own would only grant him more of a right and opportunity to form an assumption as to how this whole situation came into being. Allowing him to form an opinion on the situation without all of the facts would be far more damning than telling him the truth.

   Without realizing it I have typed in his number, my thumb hovering over the call button. My mind has become hazy as I stare down at the screen, his number shining like a beacon that makes my eyes water from its brightness. I submit to the guilt and hit the call button, pulling the phone to my ear and waiting for the inevitable argument to ensue.

   The phone rings several times before the call is answered. There is slow breathing on the other side of the line, deep and husky.

   "Thomas?"

   "Good morning." He replies drily. My eyes narrow slightly at the sound of his voice. Something is off. He sounds far too alert for this time in the morning.

   "Good morning." I reply cautiously. "I'm sorry for calling so early." 

   "Not like you're disturbing anything." His voice is thin, strained.  I sit up in bed, holding onto the phone tightly as anxiety begins to play games with my mind. "What did you need Alexander?"

   "Thomas, have you slept?" There is a pause on the other side of the line. "Have you been drinking?"

   "Did you call me just to reprimand me on my life choices?" His voice is clipped. "Sometimes I need to drink to think some things through." 

   "Thomas," I sigh softly. "did something happen?"

   "I don't want to talk about it."

   "I would like to, if you would let me." 

   "Don't push Alexander." 

   "I'm not." I reply softly, calmly. "I just want to be sure that you are okay." 

    "I'm alright." He replies quietly, his voice a lot softer than it had been. "I'm just trying to figure out how to be alright without you."

   "Without me?" I murmur softly. 

   "You cannot be my only anchor. I can't be cast adrift again if you choose to leave me." The line goes silent for a moment, the only sound being that of his muffled breath in the receiver. "I can't do that again." 

   "Where is all this coming from?" My eyes close tightly as I wait for his response. I feel my chest constrict as I wait for the axe to fall. Thomas had been doing so well before, but something has shifted our dynamic and I don't know how to handle it if he decides to simply let me go. Find some other anchor to hold onto and just allow me to sink down to the ocean floor of loneliness. 

   "It was something that my sister had said to me, but there was a small glimmer of truth in what she had to say." He confesses. "You can't be the only thing holding me together."

   "I didn't realize that you were falling apart." My lips tremble slightly. "I'm sorry that I wasn't aware."

   "Alex, please don't do this."

   "Do what?" I question, quickly wiping at my eyes as if he could somehow see the tears beginning to form behind the lashes. "I'm just apologizing, take it while it lasts."

   "Are you crying?" He questions. "Don't lie." 

   "Yes." I whisper. "I'm crying." 

   "Don't." He says seriously. "This isn't a goodbye, nor is this me wanting to be rid of you. I am just telling you that I can't be entirely reliant on you." 

   "Would it be wrong of me to want you to rely on me?" I sniffle. 

   "No." He replies softly. "You just can't live for me, Alexander." 

   "I know that. I don't want to take your life away from you, but I also want you to need me." My skin becomes slick with tears. "Shit, this isn't what I wanted." 

   "I know." Thomas replies calmly. "It's alright darlin'."

   "I miss you." I whisper.

   "I miss you too." 

    "Are you really coming home in three days?"

   "I should be." I can hear his grin in his tone. "Eager for me to come home?"

    "Shut up." I grumble.

   "I love you darlin'."

   "I love you too." 

   The call ends after a few more minutes of talking, but it is merely listening to the sound of the other's voice. Nothing significant is said and silence fills the room once the line goes silent. I grit my teeth tightly tighter before throwing my phone across the room. It lands with a thud on the thin carpet just before the bedroom door. I didn't tell him. Yet again I neglected to tell him what is going on and have prolonged both of our suffering. I really am a monster. 

   "I'm sorry, Thomas." I cry.