Cliché

The longer Allison allowed things to go on, the heavier toll it took on her. She started spending more time at work, arriving early to catch up on work and staying late with help sessions or bus duty. Anything to keep her out of the house.

She also stopped going to the games. Sitting in the WAG box had become its own personal hell - she could feel the other girls sneaking looks at her all the time. Some were pity, some were concern. From the cattier ones, they were disgust. As if they were repelled by the idea of Allison staying with Kris even though he had clearly moved on. So she began staying home on game nights, curling up on the couch with a book and keeping the TV volume on low.

Kris never mentioned her absence at his games. Though she wasn’t sure if it were because he didn’t care or because he never got the chance to ask - the most time they spent together now was asleep in bed, on the nights Kris actually made it home. And even then, only one was ever conscious - Allison was always asleep when Kris came stumbling home late and Kris was dead to the world by the time Allison got up in the mornings. Between that and Kris being gone on the road, Allison could almost count their times together on one hand.

It was a night in mid-November that Allison finally recorded the two of them being home - and awake - at the same time. The TV was on - that night’s news report - and they were both on the couch. Allison stayed on one side, curled up in a blanket with a book propped onto the arm. That was all she felt like she did anymore - read. The made-up realities in books felt so much better than her life right now. Kris was on the other end of the couch, arms resting behind his head and long legs sprawled out on the foot rest.

Neither of them spoke much. Kris would comment on something the newscasters would say every so often, and Allison would nod her acknowledgement, pretending to be too engrossed in her book to say anything aloud. Truth was she hadn’t read a single page. Kris’ presence was making her mind race, her head spin. The tiny voice in the back of her mind told her to take advantage of this rare chance.

“Kris,” she heard herself say, immediately wishing she hadn’t.

He grunted, eyes still on the TV, but it showed he was listening. At least a little.

Allison swallowed and tried to find a way to speak past the lump in her throat. Anxiety bubbled in the pit of her stomach, and she could have sworn she was about to throw up. Instead, she calmly set her book on the end table beside her and ran a hand through her hair.

“Who’s Chelsey?”

Kris’ eyes ripped off the TV screen and shot her, widened in shock, and - for maybe a split second - fear. He blinked and then the fear was gone, replaced by a façade of ignorance. “Who?”

Allison fought hard to maintain eye contact. “Chelsey,” she repeated slowly. “I heard one of the girls say something about her at a game a few weeks back.” It was a lie, sure, but it sounded a hell of a lot better than telling Kris she’d seen her name in his message screen.

Kris kept his gaze on her, as if he were frozen. The color had drained from his face and his eyes had grown dark, so dark. Allison’s heart was pounding and she could feel nervous perspiration pricking her brow. She waited patiently for his response, though, trying to keep her expression soft. It was strange, considering all of the anger and embarrassment that had been building up in her these past few months. She should really have been screaming at this point. But something kept her composure relaxed, soothing almost.

Without a word, Kris got up from the couch, hand already reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. Allison watched as he disappeared down the hall, already punching numbers into it. A door shut - she wasn’t sure which one - and everything grew quiet, give for the low hum of the television. Soon, she could hear the quiet bass of Kris’ voice, too, speaking quietly into his phone’s receiver. She couldn’t make out the words, though. That alright - she didn’t really want to.

It felt like forever before Allison finally heard the door creak back open, Kris’ footsteps ascending down the hall. She felt her heart rate increase a little, but other than that managed to remain calm. Realy, what was the worst she could expect after all she’d been through?

Kris appeared at the end of the hall, and Allison’s eyes went to him. The way he lingered there made her stomach drop - one arm propped against the wall while the other ran over his face. And his face- wow. His expression made tears prick in Allison’s eyes. Like all the guilt and self-hate in the world had somehow worked itself into one human being.

The world went silent in that one, slow moment. Not even the sound of the TV registered in Allison’s mind anymore. Just Kris. The tall, handsome man that had won her heart without even trying. The hair she loved to drag her fingers through and the accent that sent chills down her spine. The hands that could make her skin ignite, that powerful body that could make her feel so beautiful. Everything she loved about Kris was encompassed right there, right within reach, yet somehow felt so far away from her.

Finally, he spoke, his words so low and lifeless that she could barely hear him.

“Ma Cheri,” he whispered in his native tongue. His gaze fell to the floor, as if he couldn’t look at her while he said it. She kept her eyes on him through, unable to look away. His lips quivered as his next words built up inside him.

“I am so sorry.”