Kim Karr - Torn

Rubbing her hands together she says, “I do get it but choices aren’t always that easy, Dahlia. Ben suffered, too. In fact, he’s still suffering.”

Suddenly, it’s like all of the emotional turmoil I’ve experience these last few days comes rushing back. Setting my glass down, I have to tell her, “Danger, protection, disappearing—Grace, it’s just insane, the whole thing.”

Our salads arrive and we both push our forks around, without really eating or talking.

Without warning, she drops her fork and focuses on me. “Dahlia, will you please forgive him? For me? He has a whole life to rebuild and he really wants you in it.”

Exasperation takes hold of me and I have to tell her, “I am not getting back together with him. You can’t possibly think that.”

“No, I’d never ask you to do that. I know you’re happy. Just hear him out. He needs your forgiveness in order to be able to move on, move away from these sad past few years. And Dahlia, before anything else you were friends. Can’t you get back to that?”

I shake my head no. “What he needs? What about what I needed? What about the life I led?”

She stares at me for a long while before standing up and coming to crouch beside me. She holds both my hands and when she finally speaks, it doesn’t sound like her voice at all. It’s small and full of pain. “Dahlia, I think of you as my daughter. You know that. And it’s for this reason I feel you need to take a step back and look at what you’re doing. You need to face the situation. Not only have you been through a lot, but so has he. I think talking to him will help you move past your anger and maybe even help toward rebuilding your friendship.”

Standing up, I toss my napkin on the table and grab my purse. “Grace, I’m not ready to forgive him. There is nothing he can do to take back what I went through because of his decisions. My anger is justified and I don’t know if I’ll ever get past it.”

She makes one last plea, “Dahlia, you owe him at least forgiveness.”

“I don’t owe him anything.”

With that, I have to leave the restaurant before I lose my composure. I try to take deep calming breaths. I reach my car and want to scream when I see the folded piece of paper on my windshield. I take his remember-me item and without even opening it, rip it into pieces and let it fall to the ground. Finally, all the emotion and events of the past days paralyze me as I’m getting into the car. I put my hands on the roof, taking short quick breaths, trying to pump the air back into my lungs. I think about what Grace asked me—and even though I would do almost anything for her, I can’t do it. I can’t look at the situation through rose-colored glasses like she always does.

Come Undone

Ben’s Journal

When Mom told me she was meeting Dahlia for lunch, I figured it was a perfect opportunity to leave Dahlia one of my notes. But when Mom came home later clearly upset, I had to wonder if that was why. Since she didn’t mention the note, I can only guess it wasn’t but that their lunch didn’t go well. She and Dahlia have always had a great relationship and the last thing I want is for their connection to suffer because of me.

I’ve never had that kind of relationship until I went to New York City and I was lucky enough to make friends with the head of the English Department at NYU. George took me under his wing and we quickly became friends. We’d go out for a beer or two after swimming laps and we’d discuss life in general, sports, and even his divorce, but I never told him about my life here—I’m wondering if I should have? I could really use him right now.

I’ve decided to take Dahlia up on her offer and plan to move back into our house. I need to help relieve the stress mom is feeling. When Serena gave me the note Dahlia left her that said, “Give these to Ben, the house is his,” I was surprised. I thought she would respond to my note, but she ignored it and sent that instead.

Trying really hard to find a reason not to drown myself in a bottle of Jack, I started to move my things back into our house. Well, my house now.

What the fuck am I going to do? I have no life left here—no job and definitely not my girl. I’ve tried to call her numerous times and she won’t answer my calls. I’m beginning to wonder if she’ll ever talk to me again. I thought I would be able to break through to her, but she seems determined not to talk to me. I really just want some time alone with her, to explain further. No, I really just want her back.

Caleb is also pissed as hell at me right now. When I went back to our house, it was still there—the old key holder. I knew she’d never get rid of it. I took it off the wall and pulled the cap off the end. The data chip was still there. I didn’t want any of that information anymore, so I called Caleb and gave it to him to take to the agency. He told me he just fucking knew I kept shit. He reamed me, asking me if I had any idea the danger I had put Dahlia in. Honestly at the time, I really didn’t. I wanted her to have it in case. In case of what?—I don’t even know anymore.

Madness

It was one of the most perfect fall days. The weather wasn’t too hot or too cold and the breeze was just enough to keep me cool. I had my windows down on the drive from Laguna Beach to LA and hoped that the scene with Grace at the restaurant wasn’t as bad as I thought.

I had sat in the parking lot for over an hour before I left. I wanted to make sure my judgment wasn’t clouded from my one drink. But all I kept thinking was five minutes, just five minutes, was all it had taken to put a tear in an almost perfect relationship.

The whole drive home I listened to the song “Into the Nothing” on repeat and went over our conversation in my mind. I loved her and would never want to hurt her, but I just couldn’t agree to her request that I forgive Ben for what he had done.

At six o’clock I finally pull into the driveway and I’m surprised everyone is still there. I tried to call River from the car, but it went straight to voice mail. The music playing as I open the door tells me immediately that Nix took control of the playlist because it’s his favorite song, “Radioactive.” The kitchen shows the remnants of a party—pizza boxes stacked on the stove, bags of chips on the table, and beer bottles lined up on the counter. River’s at the kitchen table with his hands fisted through his hair and Ellie sits next to him as they both look over a stack of papers. Xander’s outside pacing the deck while talking on the phone and the other band members are sacked out on the couch.

“Hey,” I call out when I walk through the door and hang my keys on the hook.

River looks up with a smile and pushes his chair back. Ellie turns, setting her beer bottle down, and I notice immediately she’s removed her suit jacket. Her very low-cut silk camisole displays her ample cleavage and I have to refrain from rolling my eyes.

“Cute boots,” she says, sounding like she means it. “Gucci?”

Looking down at my chunky-heeled tall black boots, I shrug my shoulders. I have no idea what brand they are but I’m sure they’re not Gucci. I’ve had them for years and don’t even remember where I bought them. “I’m not sure but thanks.”

“I have a similar pair but can never seem to get the outfit right when I try to wear them.”

Setting down my purse, I smile at her. “Really, I just throw them on with everything.”

Her phone rings and she motions toward the living room. “Excuse me a minute.”

River nods and stands up, his gaze locking on mine as he strides toward me and mouths, “Missed you.”