THE FALLOUT: THE CARTERS' CHRISTMAS SPECIAL: Dec 6th - Wanda's Fallout
She didn’t leave to be loved. She left to breathe. Wanda’s fallout isn’t explosive. It’s the kind that happens when a woman finally stops pretending.
Wanda stood in the middle of Chloe's apartment, holding a box of her things. Her things. Clothes she'd smuggled out of the house over the past two weeks. Books. A few framed photos she'd grabbed from the guest room, the ones William never looked at anyway.
She set the box down on Chloe's pristine white couch.
"That's it?" Chloe asked from the kitchen. She was making coffee, her back to Wanda, wearing a silk robe that probably cost more than Wanda's entire wardrobe. Her hair was perfect. Her nails were perfect. Everything about Chloe was sharp and polished and deliberate.
"That's it," Wanda said.
Chloe turned around, leaned against the counter, coffee mug in hand. "One box. After eight years of marriage. That's all you're taking?"
"I don't need his stuff."
"But you need mine?" Chloe's voice was light, teasing, but there was an edge underneath. There was always an edge with Chloe.
"I didn't say that."
"You're here, aren't you?" Chloe took a sip of coffee, eyes on Wanda over the rim of the mug. "You left him. You packed your shit. You showed up at my door at midnight like some kind of lesbian cliché. So yeah, baby, I'd say you need me."
Wanda's jaw tightened. "Can we not do this right now?"
"Do what? Talk about the fact that you're officially homeless and unemployed in a week when winter break ends and you have to go back to teaching and explain to your coworkers why you're suddenly living in a one-bedroom in the gay part of town?"
"I'm not unemployed."
"Not yet." Chloe set the mug down, walked over to Wanda, ran a hand down her arm. "But you will be when someone sees us together and tells the school board. You know how this works, baby. Small town. Christian parents. You think they're going to let a dyke teach their kids?"
Wanda pulled her arm away. "Stop."
"Stop what? Telling you the truth?" Chloe's voice was still light, still playful, but her eyes were hard. "You wanted this. You chose this. You left William. You moved in here. You're OUT now, Wanda. There's no going back."
Wanda's phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out. MOM.
She stared at the screen.
"You going to answer that?" Chloe asked.
"No."
"How many times has she called today?"
"I don't know. Five? Six?"
"And you're just going to keep ignoring her?"
"What am I supposed to say?" Wanda shoved the phone back in her pocket. "Hi Mom, I left my husband because I'm gay and I'm living with my girlfriend now. Hope Thanksgiving was great. See you at Christmas?"
Chloe laughed. "That's exactly what you're supposed to say."
"Easy for you to say. Your parents disowned you when you were nineteen. You don't have anything to lose."
Chloe's face went cold. "Fuck you."
"I didn't mean it like that."
"Yes you did." Chloe grabbed her coffee mug, walked back to the kitchen. "You always mean it like that. Poor Chloe, the orphan lesbian with no family. Must be so easy for her. She doesn't have to deal with disappointing anyone because no one cares about her anyway."
"Chloe, I'm sorry."
"No you're not." Chloe dumped the coffee in the sink. "You're scared. And when you're scared, you lash out. It's what you do. It's what you've always done."
Wanda's phone buzzed again. MOM.
"Answer it," Chloe said.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't know what to say!"
"Then SAY THAT!" Chloe turned around, her voice sharp now, cutting. "Call your mother and tell her you don't know what to say! Tell her you're confused! Tell her you're gay! Tell her SOMETHING! But stop hiding in my apartment like I'm your fucking safety net!"
"You said I could stay here!"
"I said you could stay here if you were serious. If you were actually leaving him. If you were ready to be OUT." Chloe walked toward her, stopped a foot away. "But you're not ready, are you? You're just running. And when it gets too hard, when your mom keeps calling and your students start asking questions and people at church start whispering, you're going to run right back to William and his boring house and his boring life because it's easier than this."
"That's not true."
"Isn't it?" Chloe's eyes searched hers. "You haven't told your family. You haven't changed your Facebook status. You're still wearing your wedding ring."
Wanda looked down at her hand. The ring was still there. Gold band, small diamond. She'd forgotten to take it off.
"It's just a ring," Wanda said quietly.
"It's not just a ring. It's a symbol. It's you still holding on to him. To that life. To the safety of pretending." Chloe reached out, took Wanda's hand, twisted the ring off her finger. "There. Now it's gone."
She dropped the ring on the coffee table. It clinked against the wood, rolled, settled.
Wanda stared at it.
Her phone buzzed. MOM.
"Answer it," Chloe said again.
Wanda pulled the phone out. Stared at the screen. Her thumb hovered over the green button.
She couldn't do it.
She silenced the phone, shoved it back in her pocket.
Chloe watched her. "You're a coward."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. You're a coward. Just like your brother."
Wanda's head snapped up. "Don't talk about Wallace."
"Why not? He's just like you. Too scared to be himself. Too worried about what Mommy and Daddy think. Too busy performing for people who don't even know who he really is." Chloe grabbed her purse from the counter. "I'm going out. When I get back, you either need to call your mother, or you need to leave."
"Chloe, wait."
"I'm done waiting." Chloe opened the door, stopped, looked back. "You want to be with me? Then BE with me. All the way. No more hiding. No more rings. No more unanswered phone calls. You're either in or you're out, Wanda. But I'm not going to be your dirty little secret."
The door closed.
Wanda stood alone in the apartment. The box of her things sat on the couch. The ring sat on the table. Her phone sat silent in her pocket.
She looked around. Chloe's apartment was beautiful. Clean white walls, expensive furniture, art she didn't understand but pretended to appreciate. Everything was curated. Everything was intentional. Everything was the opposite of the house she'd shared with William.
She walked to the window, looked out at the street below. Watched Chloe get in her car and drive away.
Her phone buzzed. MOM.
She pulled it out. Stared at it.
Ten missed calls. Four voicemails. Three texts.
She opened the texts.
MOM: Wanda, baby, please call me. I need to talk to you.
MOM: Your brother won't answer his phone. Bella's not responding. Bobby's wife said he's not available. What is happening?
MOM: I'm worried. Please. Just let me know you're okay.
Wanda's finger hovered over the reply button.
She could type something. Anything. Just to let her know she was alive.
But what would she say?
I'm fine, Mom. I left William. I'm gay. I'm living with my girlfriend. Don't worry.
She couldn't.
She closed the messages, opened her texts with William instead. The last message was from yesterday.
WILLIAM: I love you. Please come home.
She stared at it.
William. Sweet, boring, suffocating William. The man who'd never done anything wrong except exist. The man who'd loved her with the kind of desperate, puppy-dog devotion that made her want to scream. The man who'd cried when she told him she was leaving.
She should feel guilty. She should feel something.
But she didn't.
She felt nothing.
No, that wasn't true. She felt relieved. Free. Lighter than she'd felt in eight years.
And that made her a monster, didn't it?
Her phone rang. MOM.
She watched it ring. Watched her mother's name flash across the screen. Watched the call go to voicemail.
Notification: 1 new voicemail.
She didn't listen to it.
She walked to the couch, sat down next to her box of things. Picked up the wedding ring from the coffee table. Held it in her palm.
Eight years. Reduced to one box and a ring.
She closed her fist around it.
She set the phone down, leaned back against the couch, and closed her eyes.
Somewhere across town, her mother was calling. Her husband was waiting. Her family was fracturing.
And Wanda sat in Chloe's apartment, holding a ring that didn't mean anything anymore, wondering when she'd started feeling so empty.
Her phone buzzed one more time. MOM.
She didn't answer.
While Wanda sat in silence, refusing to answer her mother's calls, Brenda Carter was sitting in her kitchen, phone in hand, staring at four names that wouldn't respond. She didn't know about Julian. She didn't know about Chloe. She didn't know about Brad's arrest or Bobby's collapse. She just knew her children had stopped talking to her. And on Sunday, December 7th, she would get in the car with Willis and try to fix it.
Tomorrow: The Drive
END PART 2B: WANDA'S FALLOUT
