I Know What You're Doing: The Whole Story, page 17
“She called me every week, just to check in, you know? She’s some woman, and you don’t deserve her.” He winked at me.
“I won’t argue with that, but forget that for the moment and tell me what you’ve been up to.”
“Still working.”
“And, Melissa?”
“Long gone, but everything is amicable, which considering what I did to her, turned out better than I expected.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Did she go back to the States?”
“Yeah, and she’s met somebody else, which I’m happy about. She deserves to be with somebody who is devoted to her.”
“And you?” I asked, weirdly nervous of what the answer would be.
“Yes, I’ve met someone, but we’re taking things one step at a time.”
“I’m pleased,” I lied. I didn’t love him in that way, but I struggled knowing he was with somebody else. “Man, or woman.”
“Man,” he answered. “About time I stopped lying about myself.”
“What’s his name?”
“Are you sure you wanna know?”
“I wouldn’t have asked,” I replied, a little abruptly.
He looked at me, his eyebrow arched.
“His name is Dylan and he works on Anal Treet.”
We both laughed.
“You sure know how to pick them.”
“He’s a sweet guy, but I’m under no illusions. He works in Gay Town, so his head could be turned anytime.”
“If he cheats on you, then I’ll kick his arse. You deserve to be happy.”
And that was that. The last time we ever talked about us.
*
I wasn’t the slightest bit nervous about Zane meeting Chad.
They’d be sat in the bar right about now, and I didn’t care.
I trusted them both.
To move forward, I had to forgive and forget the past, not in half measures, or when it suited me, but totally.
Zane had argued against going, but his constant presence was driving me mad – we’d never had the kind of marriage where we were tied to one another twenty-four hours a day. It wasn’t what either of us wanted. Going down that route, we’d end up feeling imprisoned in our relationship, hating one another, and we’d been through too much to fail now.
I was settled on the sofa with a glass of wine and some left-over casserole.
Once again, my adorable little girls had been swept away by their ever-loving grandparents and the house felt tranquil. All was as it should be and after a couple of glasses of wine, I felt more relaxed than I had in a long time.
Feeling a little full after eating, I popped my jeans.
Where the idea came from I don’t know, but I reached for my phone and found the hidden app that contained the video of Zane and Chad in the woods.
Suddenly, I felt guilty, knowing the file should have been deleted a long time ago.
I hadn’t watched the video since I confronted my husband, and clicking the play button, the arousal at the memory alone was instantly heightened upon hearing Zane moan with pleasure as Chad fucked him.
Why? I thought to myself. After all we’ve been through? I felt conflicted. Why did I still enjoy watching them together?
I stopped the video.
Angry with myself, I couldn’t shake how incredibly aroused I felt and before I could talk myself out of it, I pressed play again, allowing my hand to wander.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“We’re back,” I shouted, opening the door, the delicious smell wafting up the hallway.
Jenna came out of the kitchen, looking sensational, a huge smile across her beautiful face.
“Hello, stranger,” she said, embracing Chad and hugging him tightly. “How are you?”
Chad kissed her cheek. “All good. What about you?”
“Same old,” she answered. “I hope you’re hungry?”
“Starving,” I replied. “What’s on the menu?”
“Well, first off, the girls are staying at your parent’s tonight, so we can all get sloshed, so go and entertain them for an hour whilst I finish chopping and peeling. We’re having steak, twice baked chips, and plenty of veg–that okay?”
“Twice baked chips? Oh, sod off, Jen, we don’t need all that posh stuff.”
She rolled her eyes at me. “Don’t eat it if you don’t want it.”
“Delicious,” Chad replied, trying to diffuse the situation.
“Come on then, let’s go and see the little terrors,” Zane said. “Where are they?”
“The garden, where else? That slide is the best money we ever spent. Make sure they’ve still got their coats and gloves on–I keep telling them it’s too cold without them.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chad spent a lot of time with us over the next few weeks, and we got to meet Dylan, eventually.
He was a nice guy, but both Jenna and I agreed they seemed mismatched, but who knew what the future held for them–opposites did attract. Whatever the outcome, it was nice to see Chad happy.
*
Jenna had invited Chad for an early dinner, and as per usual, we’d had a great time. It felt like he was part of the family.
He was travelling to the Lake District to visit some old college friends. I was invited too, but even through Jenna’s protests that she trusted me, I thought it was too soon to be spending time apart.
“I’ll call you both in a few days,” Chad said, walking toward the front door. “There’s never a decent signal in the Lakes, but if I can get online, I’ll say hey.”
“Drive safely, buddy,” I said, as Jenna hollered from the kitchen.
“Don’t you dare leave before kissing me goodbye,” she said.
“As if,” he replied, throwing his arms around Jenna and hugging her tightly, kissing her cheek.
The two had become extremely close, and at times, it seemed their own friendship had surpassed that of mine and Chad’s.
“See you soon, buddy,” he said, embracing me.
“Call me when you’re back and the four of us can go out for the evening–cinema, meal, whatever you fancy.”
“Sounds good.” He turned and smiled before walking out of the door. “I gotta run, traffic will be murder.”
*
Later that evening, we settled the girls into bed and snuggled up on the sofa to watch Dancing with the Stars.
Now, it wasn’t my favourite programme in the world, but a deal is a deal. And this particular deal was – I would watch what Jenna wanted and she would watch Top Gear with me.
I rolled my eyes as some Z-List female American celebrity I didn’t know twirled badly around the ballroom floor, galumphing about with all the grace of a charging hippopotamus. The celebrity finished her routine to a standing ovation from the studio audience. I shook my head as Jenna clapped along with them.
“What are you clapping for?” I asked, incredulous. “She was shite.”
“I’d like to see you do better,” Jenna snapped, hating it when I offered my personal critique.
“Erm,” I replied, slightly offended. “You know I can dance.”
“Not like that you can’t.”
“Thank God,” I added, sarcastically. “She looked like she was being dragged around the floor by Fred Flintstone.”
“If you’re going to sit there and yap all the way through my programme, go upstairs and watch the bedroom TV. You’re getting on my nerves.”
I roared laughing. She took reality shows so seriously, and God help me if I dared criticise the many others she watched.
Decided to let her enjoy the dancing, I shut my mouth as the landline rang.
“Oh, bloody hell,” she moaned at the interruption. “I’m turning all the phones off next week.”
I was of a mind to let it ring out, thinking it was a marketing call offering half priced double glazing, or something similar, but I could see it annoying Jenna so jumped up quickly as she glued her beautiful eyes to the screen once again.
“Hello,” I said.
I didn’t recognise the voice on the other end, and as he spoke, an icy chill crept through my veins. Did I hear right? “An accident,” I said. “When?”
Jenna muted the television and jumped out of her seat, rushing to stand next to me, trying to listen in on the conversation.
“What’s going on?” she whispered.
I waved my hand in front of her. I couldn’t concentrate on what was being said to me.
“Okay,” I replied. “I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
I hung up the phone.
“What’s wrong,” Jenna asked, looking scared. “It’s not my mum, or dad, is it?”
“No, love,” I said reassuringly.
“Then what?” she asked, impatient to know the details.
“Chad’s been in an accident.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Two weeks later.
I watched the cortege of cars in stunned silence.
For the first time in months, darkness crept into my heart, possessing my entire being. I’d fought so long to pull myself out of the quagmire of despair, but as hard as I tried, I was knee deep, struggling to pull myself free.
Never in my worst nightmares would I have imagined this day would come, and worst of all, that I would be asked to play such an integral part.
My whole body trembled as Jenna and I walked down the long driveway toward the road.
An inordinate number of cars were parked on either side of the private road.
It was the moment I'd been dreading.
The polished black hearse slowed to a stop.
Inside lay the black coffin carrying the broken and battered body of the only man I ever truly loved.
Chad didn’t survive the crash.
How could he have?
Seeing pictures of his car, there was no way he would have walked away from such devastation.
He was killed instantly—his life snuffed out in a matter of seconds. Gone before I’d received the initial call.
The doctors said Chad’s injuries, had he survived, would have been life changing. He wouldn’t have been able to walk or even feed himself and a small part of me thanked God, or whoever was watching over us, for sparing him that existence. Being a burden would have been the worst thing imaginable for him.
It took one drunk driver and a seventeen-car pile-up, and he was gone.
I was angry—heartbroken.
I wanted revenge.
After everything we’d been through together, and this was how it ended.
I was in disbelief—bereft for what I'd lost, and no amount of prayers would ever bring him back to me. To all of us.
Jenna clutched my hand tightly. She smiled bravely at me, but I couldn’t even force myself to return that smile.
She squeezed my hand, letting me know she was there for me, and I could see in her eyes, she was broken too.
Over time, she'd grown to love and care for Chad.
She’s the most gracious person I have ever met, and despite what we put her through, she knew my love for her was absolute, but it was Chad’s sacrifice in walking away that earned her respect, and ultimately her love for him as a friend. To Jenna, he was family, and she embraced everything about him, allowing him into our lives, into our children’s lives, and she never regretted that decision.
Uncle Chad. The biggest kid of them all.
Without Jenna, he might have died without knowing how much I loved him as my friend. How much we all loved him.
I would tell the girls about him when they were older, and show them pictures of the three of them together.
Pictures of him rolling around the floor, playing with them, making them laugh out loud. The joy etched on all of their faces would tell my girls what they needed to know.
Uncle Chad was special–their very own guardian angel.
No drunk driver would ever be able to take that away.
“Come on, darling.” Jenna led the way as I tried to avoid looking at the coffin.
I didn’t want to see it—or believe he was lying in there.
You know he’s in there, the voice inside my head told me, trying to force me to face reality.
I wanted him to jump up and tell us all it was a sick joke. Yes, we’d all be mad, but five minutes later, we’d love him that little bit more.
I couldn’t hold my tears back.
I looked at Jenna. I needed her to help me—I was losing it–losing myself again.
“Jen,” I croaked. “Help me.”
Her face crumbled too, and while I knew she was genuinely heartbroken over Chad, these tears were for me. She never could stand to see me cry.
“Let’s get in the car, then we can go and say a proper goodbye to him. He’ll haunt us if we don’t.” She let out a little laugh, and she was right. If anybody could find their way back to cause mischief, Chad Mitchell was definitely the man to do it.
Chapter Twenty-six
To this day, I don’t remember any part of the service.
Faces passed me by. Some looked familiar, some didn’t.
A few hello’s here and there, but I didn’t want to talk.
Melissa was there. She was crushed by Chad’s death. One look at her face, and I could see the depth of her grief.
Our eyes met across the room a few times–the feelings of guilt ate away at me. She made no attempt to talk to me, but I know both she and Jenna spoke for a short time. I have no idea what was said between them. I never asked Jenna and don’t intend to.
What I do remember is sitting in the chapel with my eyes closed, images of him, of us flashing through my mind–wondering what would have been if all those years ago he hadn’t run away.
Would he still be alive?
I was torturing myself and shut down those thoughts as soon as they floated into my mind. Thinking about what ifs was dangerous and would change nothing. I made my choice and it was the right one. I never regretted it.
The celebrant finally stopped speaking and the music sailed out of the speakers. I cringed upon hearing the God-awful power ballad drone out of the speakers. It even had a key change—I never want to hear it again.
I guess it was Melissa’s choice, but it gave me something to chuckle over. Chad wasn’t the power ballad type.
I refused to look as the coffin disappeared behind the purple velvet curtain onward to his final destination.
What was left of Chad would be flown across the Atlantic—his final resting place in California. That saddened me most of all, but I had no right to what was left of him. Still, I couldn’t help being selfish.
I would have nowhere to go when I wanted to talk to him.
I still feel physical pain when I think back to that cold winters day.
Since then, I’ve blocked most of it out of my mind.
“You never grieved properly for him. That’s what funerals are for, Zane,” Jenna still tells me when we talk about Chad. “You wouldn’t even look at the coffin.”
I know she’s right, to a degree, I blocked it out for another reason–a reason she has yet to fathom.
Can you guess?
I’m sure I’m not alone here. If I didn’t see his coffin disappear behind that curtain, he isn’t really gone.
In the make-believe part of mind, he jetted back to the states, and he’s there now, healthy and happy.
Jenna knows part of me lives in denial and tries to talk about the funeral, but I don’t like to. My wife is very clever and astute – she’s trying to force me to accept reality.
Reluctantly, I do accept it.
“Am I competing with a ghost?” she asked me once.
“You’re not competing with anybody, alive, or dead,” I snapped back, angry at what I considered to be a stupid question.
“You can’t blame me for asking.”
“Even if Chad was alive, there’s no question in my mind who I would be with.”
She never broached the topic again.
I came home from work one day and two new pictures occupied pride of place in our sitting room. One of me, Jenna, Chad and the girls–smiling for the camera. I remember the day it was taken.
The other picture is of me and Chad, together. I can remember when that was taken too, and I cherish the memory, but it is testament to how amazing Jenna is for putting our past aside and keeping Chad so close.
And it’s here that my story draws to a close.
There’s nothing left to say about that part of my life.
The Final Chapter
I’m at home, sitting at my desk, and the whole story has finally been told.
The house is deathly quiet, and it seems apt, that after closing the story a few minutes ago, I can sit and reflect on the last few years of my life.
I’m happier than I’ve ever been, which is odd considering what I lost, but, that’s life, as the old song goes.
My family mean more to me every passing day—I’m only too aware how somebody can be ripped away at a moment’s notice.
I tell them I love them all the time, just like I did before, but now, there’s a built-in panic that reminds me to say it.
What would I do if I lost them and I’d forgotten to say it?
*
Reflecting on my past has been a cathartic experience.
Harrowing at times, devastating in others, but necessary all the same.
It feels like a lifetime since ‘She Loves to Watch Me Play’ was first released to the world, and I know I’ve said to the many people who messaged me privately, asking me why I put my life in the hands of the public—there was one specific reason for it.
It’s important I tell you, this was never about my ego, or my flaws as a human being, husband, father or friend.
It was to give life to the most important man I’d ever known.
The man who saved my marriage and my life, pulling me from a despair I wasn’t strong enough to escape from myself.
You see, in the pages of these books, Chad Mitchell will never die.
In my thoughts, words, and by extension, in yours too, he will live forever.
And he deserves nothing less.
