#and her tiny desk concert was free therapy actually

[fatty4cid]

the midwest princess of the pink pony club 💗

[maevefiction]

Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 29

Visions of myself eviscerating the bitch with a gleaming, razor-edged katana momentarily clouded my thinking as Tom dropped his phone back onto the table with a thunk, then shifted his body about in order to face me, my hand slipping from his lower back to his thigh. I was not a woman prone to fits of rage, but if there ever was an appropriate point in time to flip tables, this was is. That, I knew, would make me feel better, but would likely have the opposite effect on Tom as he’d be so inclined as to think he was the reason for my fury. The table stayed where it belonged, but despite my best efforts, I squeezed his hand a bit too hard and was unable to keep my trap shut.

“Jesus mother fucking christ in a fucking sidecar, what a fucking CUNT that woman is.” He met my gaze, expression unreadable, and it occurred to me that he might think I meant his mother as opposed to Jane, which wasn’t a leap I yet felt qualified to make. “Jane. Not your mother. Jury’s still out for her. Conviction on a lesser charge remains a viable possibility.”

The corners of his mouth curled upward just the tiniest bit, hand that had held his phone reaching up to cup my jaw, thumb brushing my lips before he leaned forward to kiss me, softly at first, then rougher, his tongue thrusting inside to meet mine. He pulled away suddenly, taking my other hand in his, an overwhelming earnestness in his eyes that was so powerful it took my breath away.

I wasn’t the only one, apparently. His words came forth in a single exhale, a deep sigh winding through the darkness of the woods, stirring the fireflies into action and setting the forest alight. “I love you.”

Smiling gingerly, I briefly pressed my lips to his cheek. “I love you too. Now tell me what’s going through your mind. Don’t feel like you have to edit anything to spare my feelings. Just let it fly.”

His head tilted to the side. “You’re not angry with me.” A statement of fact, though he was obviously questioning why.

I shook my head. “No. Why would I be angry with you? I don’t see how any of this is your fault, Tom. Beyond your sphere of influence and control, all of it. Now that fuckwad douchecanoe…HER I’m angry with. After everything she put you through, how she made you feel, what she TOOK from you…I’ve got balls aplenty, this you know, but getting your number from your mother and not just CALLING but saying what she SAID…her balls must be so big she needs a cart to carry them around in. Either that or she’s certifiable. Anyway. I’m shutting up now. Your turn.”

Swallowing, he closed his eyes for a brief few seconds, the opened them. “Okay. What’s going through my mind. Well, first, the way I presented this to you, fucking hell…I played that with no warning whatsoever and didn’t consider how the content would affect you or what you might think or how you’d feel. I’m very sorry, Maude.”

“Don’t be. If I believed even in the slightest that you still have feelings for her I would have completely lost my shit, but I don’t so it’s fine. Please correct me if I’m wrong, though.” A tiny bubble of doubt threatened to burst and contaminate my entire cranial biosphere.

His head moved back and forth rapidly. “You’re not wrong. The only feelings I harbor for her are…I probably shouldn’t voice them, truthfully. And I have absolutely NO intention of calling her. Or seeing her. Ever. I know full well what she is, and exactly what she’s trying to do. Hearing her voice threw me, I’ll readily admit that. For about a half an hour everything she said…that day…repeated in my head and I had a bit of breakdown…” The look on my face must have clued him in to what I was thinking. “I knew you’d be home soon. That’s why I didn’t call or text. And I didn’t want to upset you at work, on your first day no less. Anyway. After I sorted that bit out, it was on to Mum.” His voice broke, and I squeezed his hands as he inhaled sharply, exhaled deeply, then continued. “I’m crushed, Maude. Absolutely crushed. And I’m so sorry she did what she did and said what she said…the part about you being beneath my station…god how I want to SCREAM at her…but, since Jane is essentially a pathological liar, I can’t be certain she DID say it, so…and here’s where the ‘my fault’ part comes into play, Maude. All I ever told her about the breakup was that Jane said no to my proposal and that I couldn’t in good conscience remain in a relationship after such a rejection, with no clear path forward. That’s all. She hasn’t a clue as to what really happened. If she had, would she have given out my number? Would she have gone to LUNCH with Jane? I’d hope not, but there’s only one way to find out. I have to talk to her. And I have to TELL her. All of it. Including the fact that I know my father was unfaithful. And about my drinking. And about…Claudia. If there’s one concept I’ve firmly grasped over the past few weeks, it’s that without honesty, no relationship is ever…real. Perhaps she’ll learn from my example…inexcusably long delayed as it is…that you don’t have to keep secrets from the people you love. You don’t have to hide your pain, that it’s possible to be free from shame. If she disowns me instead, so be it.”

I let go of his hands and leaned back on the couch. “Good fucking thing I’m sitting down, because that made me kinda feel like I’m going to pass out.”

He slid off the couch and knelt before me, between my legs, hands on my thighs, eyes deeply concerned and slightly confused. “Why?”

My head flopped back against the cushion for a moment, then lifted as I met his gaze. “Because, Thomas. My god. You are this…this…brave, gorgeous, glorious soul. And because…” I pointed at his phone. “That was totally not what I was expecting when I saw your face, and, as absurd as it may sound, I’m…relieved.”

Brow furrowed, he leaned in closer. “What was it you were expecting?”

I bit my lip and looked up at the ceiling, then down and back at him. “I had my own little freak out after you left this morning. Not to make this all about me or anything. But, yeah. Panic attack main course, self-doubt served up on the side. The causal agent, in part…how I was going to deal with it when you told me your therapist thought you’d gotten involved in a serious relationship entirely too soon, and proceeded within it at WAY too quick a pace, so much so that it has the potential to be detrimental to your mental health and that if you wanted to keep moving forward, to actually HEAL, you needed to slow things down. With me. Back away, that sort of thing. Maybe not be in a relationship. At all.”

He reached for my hands, which I’d unconsciously tucked under my arms. “We did discuss that, actually. It was an argument he lost in short order, mainly after I inquired as to how he’d ended up with the mother of the four incredibly lovely children in the photograph on  his desk. It was June 12th, 1987, at a U2 concert in Wembley Stadium. He’d just come out of a relationship with his childhood sweetheart who’d cheated on him the entire time she was away at college but thought he should still marry her anyway. While entering the venue, he saw a beautiful young woman in distress, who upon closer inspection turned out to be his ex-fiancé’s former roommate. Her friends were supposed to meet her in the parking lot but she couldn’t find them, and as they were the ones holding her ticket, she couldn’t get inside. As fate would have it, he’d purchased his own tickets prior to his breakup, and was planning on selling the extra one if the opportunity arose. Instead, he invited her to join him.”

“Dude, come on.”

Tom smiled. “All true. At some point while relaying the details he began to tear up, and when he regained his composure he informed me that perhaps he should pay me today, then took a break to order her flowers and make a dinner reservation at the Dorchester.”  

Removing my hands from his, I patted both sides of his face. “No one can resist the Hiddescharm.”

“Oh, THAT one I like. Though I have grown quite fond of Hiddlesconda.”

I snickered. “Heh. That makes two of us.”

We sat for a moment, in the stillness, until he broke the silence. “He was very surprised that I’d told you about the pregnancy prior to revealing it to him. I believe it spoke volumes regarding the level of trust that’s between us.” His chin dropped to his chest for a few moments, then lifted. “I hated telling him about the night in San Diego…what I did, what I said. It felt like I was betraying your confidence the entire time, even though I knew I needed to be truthful and most of it was a rehashing of what I’d told him previously over the phone.”

It wasn’t pleasant, knowing that someone other than us knew the particulars of our exchange. But that’s how therapy works. Which is why I’d never been into it, most likely. I’d tried it. Twice. Both times it ended with the practitioner advising me that if I wasn’t going to vebalize anything, there wasn’t any way to help me work through whatever it was I wasn’t verbalizing. “It’s weird, not gonna lie. But that’s the point of having a therapist, right? Tell all, no judgement? If it’s helpful to you in even the smallest way, say whatever you need to, you know?”

He pushed up off the floor and sat next to me on the couch again, eyes staring into mine. “Thanks. I’ll see him again when I feel it’s necessary, but for now…I think I’d rather just talk with you.”

I laughed. “Oh honey, I don’t think you can afford me.”

He chuckled as well, and we slowly retreated into another reticent state.

Placing my hand on his knee, I dove back in. “So. What’s the plan, Stan? Are you going to hold off on confronting your mother until you have some time to…”

Shaking his head, he stood, and I followed, lest I wound up with a sore neck from craning up at him. “I’m thinking of going over there right now, actually. Even though it’s a bit of a hike.”

I placed a hand on his chest. “Well, I’m sorely disappointed that you won’t be cooking me dinner, but it won’t kill me to just order in or something. Or maybe I’ll just go beg the neighbors until they feed me. So, if you want to get it over with, I say go for it.”

The timorous way he placed his hand over mine, along with the pleading glance that accompanied it, clued me in as to what question would tumble out of his mouth next. I beat him to the punch. “Holy fuckamoley, you want me to come with you.”

He nodded, slowly, emphatically.

Plopping back down on the couch, I reached behind my head and tugged nervously on my ponytail. “Tom…I don’t know…I mean, are you sure you want me there? I’ll totally go if you do…that’s not the issue. What IS the issue is that I’m…me. And it’s been clearly established that she does not approve, man. Let’s not forget that I’m a blunt, tell it like it is loose cannon even in the best of times. She’s, like, your family. I do NOT want to fuck that up for you.”

He leaned over, grasped me by the elbows, my forearms resting upon his, and pulled me to my feet. “Maude, you’re my family, too. We’re a matched set. Two halves of a whole. If she can’t accept either of us for who we are…” Tears had begun to stream down his cheeks. “And it’s already fucked up. Aside from all the unknowns, it’s an indisputable fact that she gave Jane my phone number. Which means she wanted her to get in touch with me, though she was aware that our relationship was at a level wherein I’d decided to ask you to live with me. Her blatant disregard for that, my feelings, your feelings…I simply cannot condone it. I hope I can manage to forgive it. If that’s what family means to her, manipulation and judgement…is that something I need in my life? I love her, Maude. So much. I’ve always respected her, her opinions, her strength…this just…it’s…”

I wrapped my arms around him and pulled his head to my chest, rocking him as he wept, his voice hoarse and muffled as he spoke between sobs.

“They were close, her and Jane. She loved Jane, thought she was the end all be all of possible mates for me. When I told her things were over between us, she was actually worried about how Jane was taking it. And she thought I was behaving impulsively and being incredibly foolish, letting such a good woman go just because she wasn’t ready to marry me…I believe her words were along the lines of ‘Thomas, you’re rushing into this and she’s not ready. Have some patience. Give her the time she needs. You couldn’t ask for a better partner. She’s worth the wait.’ And I couldn’t be angry with her, because she didn’t know. I just kept on pretending. She didn’t know I was dying inside.”  

Smoothing his hair, I kissed the top of his head as his sobbing escalated, rendering him unable to speak. “I’m sorry, baby. I know. I know. It’s okay. You’ll tell her, and she’ll understand. It’s okay.” I didn’t know if that was true, but it was what I hoped would happen, and what he needed to hear in order to walk out the flat door and face it all.

****************************************

He’d calmed down enough over the course of the next fifteen minutes to call Diana in order to make sure she was home. I could hear the delight in her voice when he said he’d be on his way over shortly, as soon as he got the car from the parking garage on Marylebone Road, located just a brief walk from York Street. There was no mention of me, which was an unexpected bright spot, as we’d decided if she asked he’d confirm I was coming along. This shifted it to a matter of don’t ask, don’t tell, which I was vastly more comfortable with. The dread I’d felt at the prospect of meeting her was still lurking under the surface, but my desire to support Tom as he’d supported me in New Orleans overrode the circuitry of fear. And, her bullshit had really pissed me off, which always gave me an extra boost of kickass bitchery.

Opting to take the Jaguar instead of public transportation seemed a better fit, since Oxford was nearly sixty miles away and the amount of time we’d be spending there was impossible to ascertain. Tom’s parking spot was on the second level, and when I saw the black F-Type Coupe I grabbed the sleeve of his Henley and shook it wildly.

“Can I drive? Please? Can I? Is it a STICK? It’s so PRETTY and I bet it’s so fucking FAST…shit.” I looked down at my walking boot. “I can’t drive anything. God. Damn. It.”

He chuckled. “I’d no idea you liked fast cars, Maude. Such a pity you’re incapacitated.”

“Yeah, yeah. Fuck you. I’m not, like, INTO fast cars, per se, but I like going fast IN cars. And that one there screams GAS PEDAL FLOOR GO MAUDE GO.”

His chuckled transitioned into a loud burst of laughter. “Well, now you’re NEVER driving it.” He opened the driver side door for me, and then I remembered that this was England and thus it was actually the passenger side door. “Hmm, you thought for a moment I was going to let you try it out, didn’t you?”

I held my hand up to his face, palm towards him. “Shush up and let me sink into the butter-soft white leather interior, jerky.” And oh, it WAS. Everything was modern, tons of gadgetry, a large display…I would have sworn the seat reached out and embraced me as I pushed back into it. “Look at THAT, it IS a stick shift. Real rough life you have, Tom.”

He folded himself into the driver seat, all legs and arms and an inordinate amount of grace. My eyes roamed around the car, calculating if there was room to fuck. Possibly, but a feat for when I wasn’t wearing pants for sure. When I met his gaze he was smirking. “I’ll have you know I had to essentially hang out of a helicopter while appearing to calmly sip a cup of lukewarm tea in order to earn this particular reward. And we are definitely going to give it a whirl at some point.”

Shaking my head, I shrugged, pretending to be confused. “Give what a whirl?”

“Don’t play coy with me. I saw that look.”

“What look?”

“THE look. You were trying to figure out if there was room for us to go at it in here.”

I feigned innocence. “I was not.”

He reached over and cupped my right breast, thumbing the rock hard nipple he’d discovered through the fabric of my shirt and bra. “Liar.”

Rolling my eyes, I pushed his hand away and down onto the gearshift. “Fine. I’m a big fat liar who desperately wants to fuck you in the Jag. Happy? Now drive, Thomas. Christ.”

Our route was a nearly a straight shot, the A40 to the M40 which turned back into the A40, neither of which I’d had the pleasure of being on previously. I spent most of the ride staring out the window, trying to not be too much of a gawking tourist. The countryside as we passed through Buckinghamshire was a postcard come to life, as was Oxfordshire. Tom served as my guide, advising which town was which and pointing out landmarks of note. With another forty five minutes or so to go, my attention shifted to Jane, teeth grinding as I replayed her message in my head, dissecting it bit by bit.

“Tom?”

He reached over and rested his hand on my thigh, eyes moving from the road to my face for a few seconds. “Something on your mind, love?”

“That message. Cool if we talk about Jane?”

Nodding, he began sliding his hand up and down. “Definitely.”

I rotated my body sideways a smidge, the closest I could get to facing him. “You said you know exactly what she’s trying to do. And I think I do as well…it’s kind of obvious. Get you back. That’s the ‘what’. The thing I’m curious about is the WHY. Solely for her own gain, I’m sure. But what happened to Idris and all the mature fan base beneficial for her career bullshit? You’ve achieved a higher echelon of fame over the past year, and you have so many projects that’ll be released over the next, so those will boost you up even further, which she must find enticing, but in my opinion wider appeal means a more diverse fan base and, most likely, more of what she didn’t like about it in the first place. Is it I Saw the Light? Does she want to steer you in the direction of pursuing a musical career? I…you know I’m all about logic, and this is just so NOT….”

“Idris. I don’t think that panned out quite the way she expected. I saw him, after, when we shot some scenes for Age of Ultron.”

My mouth gaped open, left hand reaching out to slap the dash. “Fuck, seriously? God, I’m so sorry…how did you…what did…”

Shrugging, he removed his hand from my thigh in order to downshift. “I focused on being Loki and not being…Tom…for the better part of our time together. We did all go out for drinks the night before he left to go back to his stint in Ibiza, and after our tenth round of shots I asked him how she was, intent on instigating an altercation, chiefly because I hoped he’d kill me and put an end my misery. He didn’t remember her at first, until I described her as a record executive and referenced the event we’d attended. His reply, and I’m paraphrasing here, was ‘Oh, her. That’s one crazy bitch, Tommy. She said you’d broken up but were still going on your vacation together because it was non-refundable or some shit, where was it? Bora Bora? She came over to my place that night…a decent enough one-nighter that it turned into a fortnighter after she got back. Just a good time, you know? She thought it was more, though. Started calling me her boyfriend, making plans, acting all controlling…I ran in the opposite direction as fast as my size twelves could carry me, let me tell you. Woman stalked me for WEEKS afterward, Tommy. Constant texts, calls…finally had to block her. She even turned up at a few of my gigs. Totally mental. I’d thought about using her for my album, but after that, no fucking way. I’ve got enough lady problems, if you know what I’m saying. Heard she’s losing artists left and right lately, too. So that’s two bullets I dodged, mate.’ The rest of that night’s one big blur, though I do recall puking in the parking lot.”

I rested my head in my hands for a good minute, processing what their exchange must have done to him, then extended my hand and grasped his shoulder. “I am SO sorry for bringing her up. Like you aren’t upset enough as it is…oy.”

“Please don’t be sorry. If nothing else, relaying it makes me lean towards thinking that she duped my mother just like she has everyone else. Which makes me feel a tad less murderous.”

I snorted. “Well, I feel vastly MORE murderous. And I’m still sorry. What I said about her being a cunt? She’s an affront to cunts. I’m searching the database of my extensive vocabulary and I can’t find a word that…”

His shoulder began to shake in my grip and at first, I thought he’d begun to cry, but when I leaned forward to obtain a better view of his face I realized he was trying very, very hard not to laugh. Which made me start to giggle, which caused HIM to let the eheheheheh he’d been biting back spring free.

“Affront to cunts. Tremendous. Shakespearean, nearly.” He kissed me, fleetingly, eyes back on the road instantly. “Whether it’s your objective or not, you always manage to lighten the mood, my love. Thank you.”

Taking my hand off his shoulder, I relaxed back into my seat. “It’s my pleasure to entertain you, Thomas. Any chance there’s a McDonald’s around here or something?”

“Not here, but there is one up the line not far from my mother’s place. Want to stop there first?”

“Do they have hamburgers?”

“Are you joking?”

“I’m not from here, remember? And I’ve never been anywhere other than London. I have no idea how the rest of the country lives.”

“Did you notice the cows we’ve passed along the way?”

“I did.”

“Then it should be no surprise that McDonalds does indeed have hamburgers.”

“Okay, one, I don’t think they buy local. Two, they were all black and white.”

“So?”

“TOM, those are DAIRY cows.”

“I knew that.”

I patted his thigh. “Of course you did. Mmm, now I want a milkshake.”

“Knew that too.”

“That I actually believe.”

****************************************

I was still slurping said milkshake when we entered North Hinskey Village, turned right and traversed down a road of what I could only think to call country estates. Large pieces of property, elegant older homes, beautiful gardens. Tom turned left and onto a long driveway, up a slight hill, then parked in front a two-car garage, next to a white Range Rover. He frowned momentarily, then turned to me, smiling.

“Here we are. Where I grew up.”

The house was huge, the garage on the far right, that and the rest of the structure all light tan painted brick with black roofing tiles. I set my milkshake carefully in the cup holder as he came around to open my door, and we walked along the front of the house, past a small section that jutted out fifteen feet or so, then onto the covered porch with white double doors, windows to either side of them, eight rectangles framed in white. Most of the other windows were framed with wood, a medium toned oak. Tom rang the bell, his other hand entwined with mine, and we waited for the games to begin.

Almost immediately, the door swung open, and there she was, dressed in a light pink, long-sleeved button down shirt, khaki slacks, light pink Crocs on her feet. There was so much of Tom in her face it made me do a double take, and I wondered if his hair would turn that same shade of white as he aged. Hers was straight, though, styled in a modified bob that stopped just short of her chin. The expression she wore transitioned from overjoyed when she saw Tom to stunned when she noticed me next to him, then to annoyed, finally settling upon professionally detached. None of us spoke, and Tom had just let go of my hand and stepped forward to embrace his mother when a door slamming gave him pause. Footsteps sounded across the white tile foyer behind Diana, and a voice rang out, one that I recognized instantaneously as Tom grabbed hold of my hand once more, squeezing it tightly.

“Diana? Did I hear the doorbell? Is he here?” She appeared from the right and stopped next to Diana, taller than me and slender as a reed, straight, dark blonde hair hanging loose on her shoulders, clad in a light coral wrap around shirt, the tops of her ridiculously perky breasts bulging out of the V, tight white shorts that barely reached the middle of her darkly tanned, impossibly toned thighs, wedged espadrilles on her feet. A vision of those thighs wrapping around Tom’s waist wormed its way into my brain, partially erased by the feel of his breath in my ear as he whispered an apology. She came to an abrupt halt in front of us, smiling widely with her perfectly white teeth. “Hello, Thomas. I’m so happy you’re here. Wonderful to see you again…you grow more attractive with every passing moment, I’m beginning to think.” She turned her head, crossing her arms as she looked me up and down derisively. “And you must be…Maude.”

Channeling all of the righteous anger I felt into making her understand from the very start that I knew the truth of all she’d done to the man at my side, I replied without missing a beat, eyes narrowed, a devious smirk upon my lips. “And you must be Jane.” I leaned forward several inches, smirk all but gone, glaring. “Tom’s told me SO MUCH about you.” I’d over-emphasized the words ‘so much’ in such a way that they sounded capitalized, pausing between them for effect, smirk returning, widened, as I finished the sentence.

Diana stepped backward a foot, waving us in, but Tom remained in place as if rooted to the spot, only his head moving as he rotated it to face Jane. His voice was several octaves lower than normal, clipped, and tainted by an underlying fury.

“Why are you here?” Not leaving her an opportunity to answer, Tom turned his attention back to Diana, a finger pointing in Jane’s direction as he spoke. “Why is she here?”

Diana sighed. “Come inside and we’ll talk, Thomas. Please. Let’s not do this on the patio.”

Tom uprooted himself and took a single step forward towards her. “I asked you a question, Mum. Why the fuck is she here?”

“She’s here because I phoned her after we spoke to let her know you were coming up. I hadn’t the slightest idea you’d be bringing…her.” The tiniest of sneers curled her upper lip as she cast her gaze upon me. “Now will you please come inside? I don’t particularly want the neighbors knowing all my business.”

“Well I don’t particularly want to step foot in your house as long as she’s…” He gestured in Jane’s direction with his thumb. “…still in it, but I’m the sort of person who respects the wishes of others…unlike SOME people…so, fine. Inside it is.” He pulled me gently forward and to the left, leaving room for Diana to quickly close the doors.

She reached out and touched his arm, then pulled it away as if burned when she looked up at his face. “Tom, please, don’t be angry with me. She just wants to talk. You were together for a year. You were going to marry her. Give her a chance to tell you how she feels. Don’t you think you owe her at least that much?”

Tom let go of my hand, then moved to stand in front of me, left hand lifting my chin high. His lips met mine, tongue running over them, and I opened my mouth when he sought entrance. He pulled away as we grew breathless, speaking softly. “Maude, I’d like to apologize in advance for the behavior I’m about to display. And if the urge should strike you, do feel free to chime in, my love, my life.”

He turned around, leaving me with a view of his very tense back muscles as they rippled beneath his Henley until I shifted sideways so I could see past him. “I. Owe. Jane. Nothing. NOTHING. Not one fucking thing.” Gesturing in my direction with this thumb this time, he leaned in until his face was less than a foot from Diana’s. “Now. First off, ‘her’ has a name. It’s Maude. Please have the common courtesy to use it going forward. Second, whether you like it, approve of it, or whatEVER, I love her more than anything in this world, we’re together, and we’re going to remain as such no matter what schemes you concoct to make it otherwise. Love her, like her, dislike her or hate her…that’s your choice. I love you, Mum, but you CANNOT disrespect her again after this day if you want me to continue to be a part of your life. Is that clear?”

Diana stood motionless, still as a statue.

“I’m so upset, Mum. Downright devastated. I can’t believe that you’d stoop so low as give my number out to Jane, aiding and abetting someone like her, hoping you could get us back together because, due to reasons I, for the life of me, cannot fucking understand, you don’t approve of a woman you’ve never even MET.”

Her finger wagged in his face. “I may not have met her, but I’ve seen enough things online for me to safely say I know her TYPE, Thomas. She’ll ruin your reputation, your career…all of it. Everything you’ve worked so hard for. Nothing good will come of it, mark my words. She only wants you for what you can do for her, not because she cares for you. Now Jane, she LOVES you, Tom. She always has. The only reason she rejected your proposal was because she wasn’t quite ready. You rushed her, and even though she still wanted to be with you, you threw her away.”

The irony of her statements, how the very opposite was true, was not lost on me. Out of the corner of my eye I caught Jane smiling like the Cheshire cat, and I wanted to fuck her up in the worst way. Tom’s half bark, half sob laugh drew my attention away from her.

“Is that what she told you, then, Mum? How long has she been feeding you this line of shit, anyway? The entire time? She’s a fucking LIAR.” He spun and took three steps, putting himself right in front of Jane. “Would you care to tell her the real reason I proposed in such a hurry, or shall I do the honors?”

Jane’s face twisted into a mask of sorrow. “Oh Tom, please don’t. That’s our personal, private business. It’s too painful. I wanted to talk about it with you, about everything, but…not like this. I still love you, so much, but…I can’t bear it. I promise, I’ll leave you and her alone, just please…don’t.”  She reached for his hand, and he exploded.

“DON’T YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME. DON’T YOU EVER FUCKING TOUCH ME!”

Tom’s eyes were wild, and it was as if Loki had apparated into our midst. As he spun round to spill all to Diana, Jane slipped in under the wire, bleating out three words dripping with despair.

“I was pregnant.”

Diana’s face fell, jaw dropping open, her hand flying up to cover her mouth after she gasped loudly.

Tears had begun to slide slowly down Jane’s cheeks. “We found out a few weeks before we went to Bora Bora, and I was so happy, even though I was sick nearly the entire time. When we got back I felt even worse and rested at my place for almost two days straight. When I went to see Tom again, he surprised me with dinner, candles, and a ring. Dealing with the prospect of becoming a mum had already been weighing on me, and I wanted to wait a bit before making another huge decision. He said if I didn’t answer then, we were done. Then he kicked me out. I miscarried the very next day, and the doctor at the clinic…” She’d begun sobbing. “He said it was directly related to all the emotional stress.”

Diana moved to comfort her, mumbling ‘oh you poor, poor dear’ but Tom blocked her path, turning his back to her in order to face Jane again, his rage escalating, like a pot of water boiling over and sizzling as it washed over the stove burner.

“YOU FUCKING LYING, CHEATING, BITCH!” He was inches from her face, screaming. “TELL. HER. THE. TRUTH!”

She cowered, stepping backward, and Diana pushed herself in between them. “Thomas William Hiddleston, what is WRONG with you? Stop this, at once! How dare you treat her this way, after all she’s been through?”

His words came out in a growl. “After all SHE’S been through? Fuck that. Lies. All of it. Want to know how it really went, Mum? She was unfaithful to me. Twice. First with Ben, right after I left on the Dark World press tour, for which I stupidly forgave her, and then with Idris, right before we left for Bora Bora. While she was pregnant with my child. She laughed when I proposed and told me she’d never really loved me, not enough, anyway, to stay with me, because my fans were damaging her reputation. That our entire relationship was nothing more than a well calculated plan right from the start, because she thought dating me would be BENEFICIAL to her career. She let me think that we were starting a family together, that I was going to become a father, all because she didn’t want to miss out on a free trip to Bora Bora. She didn’t have a miscarriage, she had an ABORTION. One she’d arranged for the very day after we learned she was pregnant. I begged her not to do it, told her I’d raise the baby on my own, but she insisted on terminating because she didn’t think Idris would have her otherwise. And would you like to know how long their ‘relationship’ lasted? Two fucking weeks! TWO WEEKS! A life extinguished, for a fuckfest that lasted TWO WEEKS.” His voice cracked on the last word, and I knew he was fighting back a bevy of raw emotions, rage, sorrow, pain…too many, and too much. He flinched when I stepped forward and placed my hand on his lower back, then relaxed and pushed back against it.

Jane shook her head rapidly. “He’s the one who’s lying. He just doesn’t want Maude to know what kind of person he REALLY is.”

A little voice in my head whispered to me that she’d used a word that seemed out of place, and I hoped with some fancy footwork on my part I could trip her up. The time to chime in had come.

“I’m sorry, did you say ‘clinic’? Things must work differently here, I guess…when I miscarried, I had to go to the hospital emergency department. Not a clinic. Those are for STD screening, annual gynecological exams, birth control and…elective procedures. Never emergency care.”

Tom’s head pivoted towards me, eyes narrowed at first, widening as he cycled back through the conversation and realized what I was up to. “No, things are the same here. Exactly the same.”

Jane’s hands were balled into fists at her side. “I meant A&E. I misspoke. And it was my personal doctor that I saw a week later for a re-check who mentioned that stress was the cause.”

He turned back to her. “Is that so? Funny, that’s not where you directed me to go in order to leave a blood sample for our paternity test…you sent me to the BPAS Willesden.” Diana let out a small squeak. Jane’s sobbing had ceased, face now pale, a mask of calm that was betrayed by the furious fire in her eyes as he continued. “They said they’d have to send it out, but I do have a copy of the permission form I completed there. Which bears your signature as well, written with blue ink on the original. Their name and logo appears in the header, and it clearly indicates that three samples were being included for testing.”

I raised my hand, as If I were an overly curious school student. “What does BPAS stand for?

Surprisingly, it was Diana who answered me. “British Pregnancy Advisory Service. They’re a charity organization that provides affordable services to prevent or end unwanted pregnancies with contraception or by abortion.”

Jane pointed at Tom. “I did NOT have an abortion. I went to the BPAS the next day to have my sample done. They didn’t do it at A&E. That’s why I was there and when I signed. The baby’s was sent from the hospital.”

I whistled, low and long. “You are TENACIOUS, Jane, I’ll give you that. All the plotting and planning…christ in a sidecar…”

Diana, surprising me yet again, interrupted. “Which A&E, Jane? What was the date? The day?”

Jane’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water as she desperately tried to fabricate the answers, but she hesitated just a moment too long for Diana’s taste. “I’ve had a miscarriage of my own, and those are questions that require no thought when answering. You remember, that and all of it. Always.” She glanced my way, and I gave her a single nod before speaking.

“Tulane Medical Center. September 21st, 1996. Saturday. Doctor confirmed it for me at 7:42 PM.”

Diana met my gaze, very briefly, then looked down at the floor. “John Radcliffe Hospital. 14th of May, 1984. I’d been carrying twins.” Tom’s back muscles clenched under my hand, and I knew he’d had no prior knowledge of her experience. Raising her eyes, chin set resolutely in a way I recognized all too well, she placed one hand on her hip and pointed the index finger of the other at Jane. “You. Out of my house, right this very second.”

Jane was fake-crying once more, delicate little hiccupping sobs. “It’s still so fresh for me, and I’m so upset I couldn’t think…”

Tom’s left hand reached out to me, and I let my right hand slip across his back, then entirely off, in order to grasp it. His voice was calm now, wistful, yet dripping with disdain as he stared down the woman who had tossed aside a miracle as if it were of no more consequence than the wrapping on a two-year-old’s birthday gift.

“19th of June, 2014. It was a Thursday. 11:37 AM.” He inhaled sharply. “That’s when you texted me those words…’it’s done’. Still have the whole message, by the way. On my old phone.”

As if someone had flipped a switch, Jane’s carefully constructed façade disappeared and what I saw in its place made me glad she hadn’t continued with the pregnancy, as awful as that may seem. She reminded me of my mother, and the thought of her parenting Tom’s child caused a bitter chill to work its way up and down my spine.

She turned on her heel, walked through the wood-framed opening into what I assumed was the kitchen, located directly opposite the front entrance, then grabbed a white Coach bag off the table and returned, striding past us toward the double doors. Stopping as she laid a hand on one of the pulls, she turned back, smirking.

“Oh well. Worth a try, you know? Who doesn’t want to be on the arm of a hot as fuck rising star, even if he’s an insecure, needy mama’s boy underneath it all? And, I must admit I’ve missed the incredible sex.” She shrugged. “But, I’m sure I can do better.” She pointed at me. “And Tom, if that’s what you’d rather have on your arm…” Another shrug. “All your loss, darling.”

A malicious grin spread across Tom’s face. “Oh, no, believe me, you’ve got it all wrong. It’s entirely my GAIN. I should thank you profusely for being such a vile, callous, lying scumbag. If you hadn’t done what you did, I would have never met Maude. She is unquestionably who I’d rather have on my arm. And in my bed. Lord, what she does to me…you were nothing more than an inflatable doll in comparison, darling. Artificial, cold, dry, silent…” He shuddered violently. “Looking back on our, erm, experiences…it leaves me, dare I say, feeling quite…deflated.”

I roared with laughter, raising my left hand to high-five him. “Someone better call the fire department because…THAT BURN!” Stepping forward, I leaned in as menacingly as I could muster, my eyes zeroing in on hers. “What you did to him…I don’t know how you live with yourself. Or how you sleep at night. Probably lots of expensive wine, I’d assume. Or maybe it doesn’t bother you at all. Not now, anyway. But when you’re an old woman, dying all alone because you’ve fucked over everyone you’ve ever met, hurt the people who actually cared about you…it is my fondest wish that in those moments, which go on for what I hope will seem like CENTURIES, that then, THEN it bothers you. That you regret everything. That you wish you could change it. That you’re terrified, the entire time right up until the very end, and just as you think you’ve found peace, at that point, you begin to see all their faces, one by one, over and over, even as the light dims and you take your last breath.” I stood up straight, left hand on my hip. “And be aware that in the event of a zombie apocalypse, I’ll be coming for your skinny ass. When I find you, and have no doubt that I will, I’m going to tear out your fucking heart with my bare hands and stomp it flat while you look on.”

She flung open the door and walk-jogged down the driveway, and Tom rested his chin on my shoulder, speaking quietly.

“But what about the Carnegie Deli cheesecake, Maude?”

I sighed heavily, touching my temple to his. “I guess now it’ll have to be my second stop.”