All That We Are

  Copyright © 2018 by Melissa Toppen

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted by U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the author.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, or organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. This book is intended for 18+ older, and for mature audiences only.

  Editing by Amy Gamache @ Rose David Editing

  Cover Design by Pear Perfect Creative Covers

  Scars remind us where we’ve been- they don’t have to dictate where we are going.

  -Joe Mantegna

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Harlow

  “Close your eyes. Yes, good. Now take a deep breath. Okay, and slowly let it out. Now, tell me what you see.” I focus on nothing but Dr. Rothenberg’s soft voice, though I don’t find it near as soothing as I’m sure it’s meant to be. Moments of silence pass before, “Harlow, tell me what you see.”

  “Nothing.” I exhale, my eyes fluttering open. “I see nothing.”

  We’ve been at this for nearly forty-five minutes, and I feel like I’ve gotten nowhere. I know it’s me. My inability to allow myself to open up. I’ve never been good at saying what I feel.

  “Okay. That’s okay.” He gives me a gentle smile, displaying patience like I’ve never seen in my nearly thirty years on this earth. “Let’s try this. What do you feel?”

  “I don’t feel anything either.” I shrug my shoulders as I sink back even further into the brown leather sofa, silently cursing myself for actually thinking I could do this.

  If I can’t tell my only friend Angela how I feel, someone I’ve known for years, and who also happens to be the person I’ve been living with for the last three weeks, how am I supposed to tell a complete stranger? Hell, I’m not even sure I know how I feel.

  “I think you’re missing the point.” He shakes his head, his salt and pepper hair swaying lightly against the movement. “Let’s try again.”

  “I don’t want to try again. Don’t you get it? This is pointless. I feel nothing.”

  “It’s not possible to feel nothing. Take for instance your posture. It says you’re tense and uneasy. Both which are feelings.”

  “Because I am tense and uneasy,” I clip.

  “Well, that’s something. Now tell me what else you feel.”

  “Irritated,” I snip, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “I feel irritated.”

  “And what irritates you?”

  “This.”

  “You’ll need to be more specific.”

  “This.” I gesture around the room. “All of this irritates me.”

  “And yet you chose to come here today. Why?”

  “Honestly,” I pause. “I don’t really know. I guess I was hoping it would help.”

  “Help you do what? You, obviously had something in mind when you made the appointment. What is it that you need help with?”

  “You’re the shrink, you tell me.” I inwardly cringe at my behavior. I’ve never been an aggressive person or one to take my frustrations out on someone undeserving, yet that seems to be my motto as of late.

  “I can only help you if you’re willing to share with me, which up to this point you haven’t been. So, I’ll ask again. What do you need help with?”

  “Let me ask you something.” I lean forward, resting my elbows against my thighs, the leather of the couch crunching beneath me. “Do you think it’s possible to not have any clue who you are?”

  He raises an eyebrow and studies me for a long moment.

  “So you feel like you’ve lost yourself?”

  “I don’t know if lost is the right word.”

  “Okay, so let’s focus on that. Tell me the events that happened before you started feeling this way.”

  “I guess if I had to pinpoint a time when things seemed to shift, it was after I got married. Ever since then it’s like I’ve been watching someone else live my life through a hazy window. I know it’s me, but it doesn’t feel like me.”

  “And why do you think that is?”

  “Honestly, I’m not sure.”

  “Do you think it has something to do with your husband?”

  “Ex-husband,” I correct through gritted teeth.

  “My apologies. I didn’t realize the divorce was final.”

  “It’s not. But he’s no longer my husband.” I swallow past the hard knot forming in my throat.

  Every time I think about Alan and what he put me through I’m not sure if I want to punch something, resolve into a puddle of tears, or, on the rare occasion, do cartwheels down the street because I feel so elated to be free finally.. But then reality seeps back in, and I remember the wasted years, the betrayal, what being married to a man like him reduced me to. A trophy wife. Something to stick on a mantle and pull down to show off when necessary but never more than that.

  “Do you think that feeling like an outsider in your own life has something to do with your ex-husband?” Dr. Rothenberg cuts through my thoughts.

  “I don’t know.” I shake my head. “I mean, yeah, I guess. I don’t know how I let it go on for so long, the marriage that is. He was very controlling. I just gave and gave. Never once putting my foot down or fighting for what I wanted. It was always easier to see things his way.” I let out a slow exhale, looking down to where my hand’s rest, knotted in my lap. “When I found out about the cheating I was almost relieved. How awful is that?”

  “It’s not awful at all. Sometimes you need a solid reason. It sounds like he gave you one. And while it might not feel like it yet, it sounds like it was the best thing he could have done for you.”

  “Yeah, I think you’re right,” I agree. “I just wish he’d leave me alone. I don’t understand what more he wants from me. I gave him six years of complete submission. Six years that I gave in to his every will and never once took anything for myself. You’d think that would be enough, but no, now he has to chase me out of Tuscan too.”

  “And that makes you angry?”

  “Hell yes it makes me angry.” I shift in my seat, finally letting the words flow. “Because there’s nothing I can do about it. He’s not violent. He doesn’t
cause a scene. But he’s just always there. Lurking. It’s like everywhere I turn he’s waiting for me. He knows my next step before I make it. Moving in to cut me off. I just want to be done. I want him to leave me alone. Unfortunately, moving home, back to my dad’s, seems to be my only option at this point.”

  “Aside from the why, how do you feel about moving home?”

  Home. God, Kentucky feels so far from home I struggle to think of it that way. Yes, it’s where I grew up, and it’s where my dad and older brother still live, but for the last eleven years, Arizona has been my home. I went to college here. I got married here. I had a life, or lack thereof, here. It’s hard to think about leaving even though there really isn’t anything left for me here. Well, other than Angela, my college roommate. Ours is the only friendship that I’ve managed to somehow hang onto.

  “A part of me is excited. I’m moving back to be close to my family, and that makes me happy. But I’m also dreading it. I left home for a reason. I don’t want to be one of those people that went out searching for something more only to return home years later a failure.”

  “You can’t look at it that way. You didn’t fail; life simply took you in another direction. There’s no shame in that.”

  “I guess.” I sigh, wishing I felt that way about it.

  “I tell you what, once you get moved and settled, call my secretary and we can schedule a session over video. I’m curious to see how you feel once you’ve had a few days to reconnect with your family and maybe some of your old friends. I think you’ll be surprised how much better you’ll feel once you’re away from all of this.”

  “Time’s up already?” I ask when he glances at his watch for the second time in less than thirty seconds.

  “I’m afraid so. I have another patient coming in directly behind you. Unless, of course, there was something else you wanted to discuss before we wrap up our session.”

  “No, I’m good. I think you’re right. I need to get out of here, go home, and reset.”

  “You’ll call and schedule another appointment once you get settled?” He moves the tablet of paper from his lap to the small table next to him as he stands.

  “I will,” I agree, taking the hand he extends to me just as I push up onto my feet.

  “Good luck, Harlow. I look forward to our next chat.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Rothenberg.” I give him a small smile and nod before spinning on my heel and quickly exiting the office without another word.

  Chapter Two

  Harlow

  Three weeks earlier

  “So, Trey asked if I could join him in New York next week.” Alan loosens his tie and drapes it across the back of the chair before turning toward where I’m sitting up in bed.

  It’s the same story as most nights in the Nagle household. I spend the evening alone, and Alan usually shuffles in from work shortly after I turn in for the night. It’s been this way for months. The more responsibility he takes on at work, the further into the background I fade.

  “Again?” I question, not hiding the distaste in my voice. “You were just in Boston last week.”

  “We’ve been over this, Harlow. You knew what I was signing up for when I took this promotion.”

  “At no point did you say this much traveling would be involved,” I object, quickly softening my approach. “I just...it gets lonely here without you. Maybe if I found a part-time job, something small to occupy my time.”

  “No.” He immediately shuts me down, stripping his shirt off before disappearing into the ensuite bathroom. “We made the decision when we got married that I would be the sole provider. It’s how my parents did it and how I want to do it as well. You take care of the house, and I make money. That’s how this works.” He falls silent, the faucet kicking on seconds later.

  “I just don’t understand why you’re so against me doing something for myself. It’s not about the money, Alan. It’s about having a life.” I raise my voice to ensure he can hear me over the running water.

  He reemerges in the doorway seconds later, his toothbrush in his hand, toothpaste foaming at the sides of his mouth.

  “You have a life,” he tells me, shoving the toothbrush back into his mouth.

  “No, I don’t,” I argue. “I sit here all day with nothing to do. It’s just you and me, Alan. We have no children, no pets, nothing. There’s only so much I can clean. So much organizing and gardening I can do. I cook dinner every night, but five out of seven you’re not even here to eat it. My life revolves around a man who’s never here.”

  His gaze goes stern before he turns and disappears back inside the bathroom long enough to discard his toothbrush and rinse out his mouth.

  “What’s this really about, Harlow?” He steps into the doorway, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe.

  “I’m telling you what it’s really about. I need something more than this.”

  “Is this your way of bringing the children conversation back up? Because I’ve already told you I’m not ready.”

  “This has nothing to do with having kids.” I shift on the bed, growing increasingly frustrated. “You’ve made your stance on that subject perfectly clear.” I can’t help how bitter the statement comes out.

  I don’t think it’s unreasonable for a twenty-nine- year-old woman to want to have children with the man she has been married to for six years.

  At first, it was all about establishing himself in his job. I understood that because he wanted us to be financially secure before having kids. Smart. But then he wanted a bigger house, more money, and once he accomplished that, he decided that being the manager of one of the most prestigious online security firms in the country wasn’t enough. Nope, he wanted to be at the top. And even now, months after landing an executive position, he’s still not willing to have a real discussion about it.

  There’s always an excuse anytime I bring it up, so I’ve stopped bringing it up. It only serves to start a fight, and honestly, I’m not feeling up for that tonight.

  “Then what? What could you possibly need that I’m not giving you?” He crosses his arms in front of his bare chest.

  “I want something of my own. Andrea offered to let me work part-time at the flower shop,” I start, only to be cut off.

  “My wife will not be working at some crappy little flower shop making minimum wage. Your job here is much more important.”

  “What job?” I demand, my hands going up in defeat.

  “Caring for me and our household.”

  “Do you hear yourself right now? You can’t really expect me to keep living like this. I’m miserable, Alan. Can’t you see that?”

  “I didn’t realize I was making you so unhappy,” he sneers.

  “This isn’t about you. It’s about me and having something for myself.”

  “I think you’re just looking for reasons to create problems.” He shakes his head. “The answer is no.” His arms fall to his sides before he stomps back into the bathroom, quickly closing the door behind him.

  Angry tears well in my eyes and I have to fight back the urge to throw a slew of cuss words in his direction. Taking a deep breath in, I collapse back onto my pillow as the shower turns on.

  Staring up at the ceiling, I wonder how we got here. How did we go from two college students crazy about each other to two people who barely co-exist?

  I wish I could say we’ve grown up and apart over the years, but even that’s not true. It all changed when we got married. Alan was one person when we’re dating and became someone else entirely after we said ‘I do.’ It was like a switch flipped and the man I fell in love with disappeared right in front of my eyes.

  I’ve spent years trying to find him again. Every once in a while I will see little glimpses – little pieces of the things I used to love the most about him. I try to hold onto those moments. The ones where I feel like his wife rather than some burden he endures or keeps around to prance in front of his fancy business associates.

  Alan’s phone buzzes to
life on the dresser, snapping me from my thoughts. It’s rare he leaves it laying around, and because of this, I can’t resist the urge to see who is messaging him this late at night.

  Rolling out of bed, I quietly pad across the bedroom floor, snagging the phone off the mahogany dresser.

  Monica: I had such a great time tonight. Can’t wait to do it again.

  I blink. Once then twice, sure that it’s not what it seems. Swiping my finger across the screen, I type in the password, my heart rate picking up speed when I realize he’s changed it. It’s been my birthday for as long as I can remember.

  Pacing back and forth with the phone still in my hand, I type in two other combinations of numbers before finally getting it right on the third. Of course, he would change it to his office extension. I swear that man could not be more obsessed with work if he tried.

  The instant the home screen comes up, I click on his messages. At the top is the one from Monica. I click on her name to open the thread and see that several other texts had exchanged between the two, each one more disturbing than the last.

  I can’t believe what I see as my eyes scan the device. Plans to meet up for dinner, drinks, and a hotel in Boston...

  My stomach bottoms out.

  I back out of their messages and scroll through some of the other conversations, stopping on a thread with a woman named Janice. Opening the text thread, I nearly lose the contents of my stomach as I see very similar messages being exchanged with her.

  My hand instinctively goes to my mouth as I read about his plans to share a room with her while in New York next week and how he can’t wait to be able to touch her anywhere or however much he wants.

  I feel lost with confusion swirling in my mind and my heart pounding in my chest that I don’t hear the shower kick off or Alan enter the room until it’s already too late.

  “What the hell are you doing?” His voice washes over me like being doused with ice water. My eyes shoot open like they’ve been closed for a very long time like I’ve been asleep for years.

  “Monica had a really good time tonight. Says she can’t wait to do it again.” I turn, squaring my shoulders as I face my husband.