"Say that again," I ask simply, and she shakes her head.

"How is she my sister?" I say, c.o.c.king my head trying to understand. Hoping against hope there is some reasonable explanation for this. She looks away from me and I take a deep breath. "Did he rape you?" I ask, cringing at the word. Her eyes look up at me.

"No," she says quietly.

"So you willingly f.u.c.ked my dad?" I ask her bluntly. She seems caught off guard, surprised I guess that I'd use that type of language.

"It wasn't supposed to happen," she says, crying again. I want to get up and leave, leave her right here crying but my body won't move. My mind has too many questions and it won't let any of my limbs budge until it has the answers.

"Yeah, I don't think f.u.c.king your best friend's dad is ever supposed to happen," I say quietly.

Nice one, Chris.

"Chris, please," she begs. b.i.t.c.h, f.u.c.king s.l.u.t, don't believe her tears.

"Chris, please, what? What Lisa, would you like me to do or say? You're telling me that kid in there is my dad's. My f.u.c.king dad's, Lisa. She's what? Seven or eight, which would mean," I stand up, my legs finally gaining strength, "you slept with him when we were in high school?" I feel like I'm about to vomit.

"We made a mistake!" she says through tears. So many tears.

"How many times?" I ask, holding my head.

"Please, it doesn't matter," she whimpers.

"How many times?" I roar.

"A lot! I loved him. We loved each other," she says and I'm going to throw up right here.

"You sat in our house. My mother's house," I say disgusted. She's a f.u.c.king c.u.n.t what do you expect?

"Shut up!" I shout. Both to her and to the f.u.c.king voice in my head. It's him and he won't shut up. He knew.

"Cal knew. He knew didn't he?!" I ask her, walking closer to her until she backs into a wall.

"He. I. We thought it was you. At first," she whimpers, looking down guilty.

"He caught us. Or you did, but after that you began to act strange. That was the first time you disappeared for those days. We thought when you came back... We just knew that you were going to tell your mom," she shakes her head. "But you didn't. You weren't even mad, we eventually realized. It was because you didn't remember. After that you started calling yourself Cal and whenever you did you were so mean and hateful towards us. We didn't know then," her voice breaks.

"It was our fault. We made you this way," she says, breaking down. I shake my head, I feel energy in me coming from everywhere. I walk towards her, looking at the girl I'd trusted, who was my friend and, for a brief time, who I had a crush on. I cover my face and then slam my fists on the wall on both sides of her. She screams before sliding down to the floor. The little girl comes out and runs over to her and hugs her.

"Leave her alone!" she yells and I try to slow down my breathing. This rage is growing within me and I don't know how to handle it.

"Does he know?" I ask her, trying to calm my tone.

She shakes her head.

"Great. I'll deliver the happy news," I say before heading out the door.

March 12, 2011 You can't outsmart the universe. It doesn't make glitches. It catches up with you. Sooner or later if you're meant to be f.u.c.ked, you will be. It's like those plane movies when the kids think they've outsmarted death but at the end of the movie they get decapitated or burned alive. The universe remembered that Cal Scott doesn't get to be happy. That my life was never supposed to be anything other than what it was, pointless, meaningless and insignificant.

"Cal." Helen's voice interrupts my pity party. She and Dexter sit across from me at their huge a.s.s conference table. Her voice is sympathetic, Dexter looks like he cares and it makes me want to throw up. I don't want their sympathy. I don't want them to give a s.h.i.t. No one should give a s.h.i.t.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" she asks me for the third f.u.c.king time.

"I don't have a choice, Helen," I say, trying to keep my voice dry and even.

"You could tell her the truth. Let her decide. That's what I'd want," she says. I look over at Dexter who's holding her hand. They don't know how lucky they are. To be able to love each other without any interference or handicap. The biggest of their problems is agreeing on where they want to vacation.

"I can't do that do her. I made a mistake when I married her. She doesn't deserve the life she'd be stuck in with me.

"Shouldn't that be her choice?" Dexter asks, drinking his gla.s.s of brandy. I'm contemplating asking him for one even though I never drink.

"I have to make the right one for her now. She'll get over me and meet a nice normal guy," I say, more to myself than them.

"You're really going to let her go? Just like that?" Dexter asks suspiciously.

"Trust me it's not 'just like that'," I say defensively.

"I think you're making a mistake. I think you should tell her and she will understand. She'll stand by you," Helen says pleading.

"I didn't come here for you guys to convince me out of it. If you don't have the medicine to fix me, if you don't have a solution to this problem, I don't want to hear any alternatives or suggestions!" I tell them.

"Okay," Dexter says simply, Helen nods. Dexter slides over the folder to me. I review the terms of what we discussed. The financial details at least. I want to make sure Lauren's taken care of the rest of her life. She shouldn't have to want for anything. I flip through to the final page in the folder. It's divorce papers. I look away quickly and grab the pen on the table and sign it. When she's ready to move on completely I don't want anything to stop her. I don't want her to be stuck, even though it feels like a knife cutting through me as I sign my name. Once I'm done I slide the papers across the table to him. He takes the folder and stands up from the table.

"Well I think I'm done here," he says, heading towards the door of their office.

"Dex..." He stops mid step.

"Remember, she's not to know under any circ.u.mstances about Chris. No matter what," I tell him. He turns back towards me.

"None?" he asks. I can't think of a reason that would be important for her to ever need to know.

"None. Promise me. On your name," I tell him. If it's one thing that's important to them, it's their name.

"Done," he says quietly before leaving the room.

"I'm sorry about Gwen, Cal," Helen says solemnly.

"I'm sorry about everything," she says, her voice cracking.

"Come on Helen. You have to keep up the facade that you don't have a heart," I wink at her and she smirks.

"Be careful, I'm going to start thinking you have one," she says and we both stand from the table.

"I have a heart. It's just not all that big," I tease her. She walks over and gives me a hug. For the first time ever I really hug her back.

"I know you want her to hate you when you tell her goodbye. Just try to remember, that could be the last time she sees you. Leave her with something to know how much it is that you love her," she says, looking me in the eye.

"Take care of my girl for me," I tell her as she walks me to the door.

"Absolutely," she promises as I enter their private elevator to take me to their exit. She waves and I give her a little salute.

When I walk into the house it's dark except for the light in the hall near our bedroom. I close my eyes and take a deep breath before I head up the stairs. This is the first time since I've known her that I don't want to see her. That I wish I didn't have to because I know what I'm going to tell her is going to hurt her. I never wanted to hurt her, now it seems like all I've done is hurt her. I think back to that night when I first saw her, how I was trying to save her from that douchebag Michael. I wonder if she would have been better off with him. When I walk in the room she's sprawled across the bed. Her long dark hair covering the sheets. She's beautiful, and she seems at peace, all the chaos I've brought her, but she still sleeps peacefully.

I want to touch her, to kiss her, but I won't do that. I don't deserve that. I deserve to walk out of here and never hear her voice, or feel her touch again. I leave out of the room and walk around the house. The only place I've ever felt at home.

She made my house a home, she's home.

I sit down on the couch and think of all the things I've done to her. How good I've made her feel, how bad I've made her feel.

After they stopped the medication trial, things just started to crumble. Chris started to come back more frequently. It was starting to be where I didn't have much time from when we transitioned. I had to be gone more often, I even had to stop working. I couldn't tell her why. I started to 'omit' the truth. What liars tell themselves to feel better, but in reality it's all a big fabrication. She started to be suspicious but she's way off base. She thinks I cheat on her. That I have all of these women. I tell her I'd never cheat on her, but she doesn't believe me because there's no other plausible explanation. The real explanation is the opposite of plausible. She started to resent me. I saw her change.

She built a persona around herself, one that she puts on to not give a d.a.m.n, but I see it in her eyes how much it hurts her and I hate myself for it. She thinks I hate her and that makes everything worse. I try to show her I love her the only way I know how without lying. The only time I can see behind her walls she's built up is when I'm inside her, literally. I'm turning her into someone I never wanted her to be. I liked that she spoke her mind, now she only tells half-truths. She's angry, and I know it's because she's hurting. This is going to hurt her, but she's strong. She'll get over me, she'll move on. She can have the life that she always wanted. Someone she can know, whose family she can meet, where her biggest decision is where to go on vacation. I've been down here awhile. I head back upstairs. Before I go into our bedroom for probably the last time I ready myself for this. Ready to take the role of villain, to make her see me as someone I never wanted her to see, the reason I loved her so much because even in all our fights and arguments she never looked at me like that. Today she has to.

"You're finally up," I say turning on the light.

"How long have you been here?" she asks, covering a yawn escaping from her mouth.

"About an hour," I say, sitting in a chair across from the bed so we're face to face. She glances at me, her eyebrow arched.

"So what did you want to talk to me about?" I pull my chair closer towards her and sit back down. She looks at me curiously; I can't look her in the eye.

"Cal," she says softly, reminding me of the girl I fell in love with. Not the p.i.s.sed off angry woman she's been the past few months.

"What's wrong?" she whispers, almost as if she's afraid to hear the answer. I wish more than anything I didn't have to, but I can't let her know that. Anger is what she'll want to hold on to it's what she needs.

"I've never lied to you," I say steadying my voice. "And I'm not going to start now," I drop my head down, run my hands through my hair. How am I supposed to do this?

My heart rate picks up. "Just say it," she commands.

I take her hand, I won't have the strength to do it if I don't remind myself how much I love her. More than myself.

"I-I have to leave." The words are bitter as they come up from my throat.

"Her expression hardens, and she pulls her hand away. "You called me back for this?" She's sighs, obviously frustrated and annoyed and stands up. I take her hand and pull her back down.

"Look, this is different," I tell her.

"Everything is different with you, Cal. If you weren't so different, maybe I wouldn't feel so screwed up right now," she snaps at me. She's p.i.s.sed and I deserve it, and she's right. If I wasn't different we wouldn't be here right now. I wouldn't have to do this if I wasn't different. She could be happy. I could make her happy but things aren't different, they're the same and I have to let her go.

"I don't know if I'll be back." She looks confused.

"What?"

"Would you mind repeating yourself?" she says sharply.

"I'm going to make sure that you're taken care of. I put sixty thousand in your personal account..."

"What? You don't know if you'll be back?" She's frantic and I try to stay still. Calm.

"Why does it sound like you're saying that you're leaving me?"

"I have to," I tell her, trying to remain indifferent, cold, but it's the hardest thing I've ever done.

"Is this about me, how I've been acting? Is this some kind of revenge thing?" she asks, her voice starting to waver.

"This has nothing to do with you," I force the words out.

"Exactly, Cal! Look what you're saying-I'm your wife. And your decision to leave has nothing to do with me?"

"I don't have a choice."

"What are you talking about? Cal! Talk to me, please," she says frantically. "Look at me!" she pleads.

I can't look at her.

"What is wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?" Tears are starting to fill her eyes and I feel like I'm being punched in the chest.

"Tell me what the h.e.l.l is going on! Tell me what's going on with you for once!" she begs, and I just want her to stop crying, to stop pleading. I want her to yell at me and hit me and punch me not this.

"I can't!" I yell at her.

"This isn't about me," I say, walking away from her. I don't know how much longer I can keep this up.

"Then who is it about?"

I can't answer her.

"You won't tell me that either, huh?" she says quietly.

"What am I supposed to say, Cal? What?" she yells. "Am I just supposed to accept you leaving? No explanations except 'you have to.' Not that I've ever gotten one from you. This won't be any different except who knows when you'll come back? If you come back."

"My stock dividends from the company will still be deposited into the account..." I try to focus on what I'm supposed to tell her and nothing else.

"I don't care about the f.u.c.king money! I never cared about any of this-the trips, this house- I never needed this! All I wanted..." she's screaming now. "All I wanted was you, can't you see that?" I close my eyes and stop what feels like tears about to start. I can't cry in front of her.

"Say something," she whispers.

"Is there someone else?" she asks.

"I told you I've never cheated on you," I say, using anger as my weapon.

"Then why? People just don't decide to leave out of nowhere. There has to be a reason, tell me you're in love with someone else; that this isn't working; that you're in trouble; just tell me something!"

"There's nothing I can tell you," I say quickly.

"What am I supposed to do?" she asks, her voice so light it's like it'll break.