Swelter
Page 17
The rest of the ride home only made me more anxious to pack my bags and get to Bobby. I thought about stopping by his way first, but then figured it would save time and an extra trip to call him once I got home and have him pick me up. I'd be leaving the car Rory bought me behind. Bobby's truck was way more fun.
Summer construction slowed me down so that I pulled up to my driveway at about eight-thirty. Once I pulled in, something struck me as odd. I could see from the front windows that the light in the kitchen was on. I was certain I hadn't left any lights on when I left, but then again I was in a daze so I shrugged it off. If Rory was home, his car would be in the driveway.
I unlocked the front door, and instantly heard frantic footsteps in the kitchen.
“Rory? Rory? Is that you?” I asked as I flicked on a lamp in the living room. The off-white carpet had a trail of soiled footsteps leading into the kitchen. I tiptoed towards the sounds, when Rory popped his head out. A trail of blood flowed down his temple and his shirt and pants had tears in them. He was covered in mud and soaking wet, his hands covered in red scrapes.
The pieces of broken dishes were still on the table where I had left them.
“Where have you been?” he asked in a drunken panic.
“I was—Rory, what happened? I thought you were in Illinois?”
“Turn off the light!” he demanded.
“Why?”
“Just do it!”
I remained still.
Rory let over to the lamp and shut it off. He reeked of liquor and pond water.
“I need you to take me to my car,” he ordered.
“For what? What happened? Did you crash it? You're bleeding. We should go to the hospital. You might need stitches.”
“No, no hospital,” he protested.
“You're plastered, Rory. I'm sure neither the car or you is in condition for a trip.”
“Lilly, I don't have time for this. You need to drive me to my car.”
“I'm not going anywhere with you until you explain to me what is going on.”
“Goddammit, just do what I ask!” he snapped.
I crossed my arms and shook my head in disgust. “No. Really. I am done. I can't do this anymore. The lying. The bickering. You take care of yourself. I have had it!”
“You're not going anywhere with that car,” he sneered.
“Here, take it,” I said, throwing the keys at him, letting my anger get in the way of common sense. “But I'm still leaving.”
“How? You gonna walk to the bus? That's miles from here.”
“Just go look for your car. I don't even want to know . . .” Rory had come home drunk before, but this—this state he was in—was a new low.
“Lilly, I don't need this shit right now.”
“I don't care what you need!” I yelled.
The phone began to ring. We both looked at it suspiciously.
“Don't answer it,” Rory ordered, trying not to raise his voice.
I snatched the phone up, clearing my throat before answering. “Lightly residence.”
“Lilly? It's Peggy.” Peggy was Barbie's next door neighbor. She and I weren't close, so I was clueless as to what she would want at this time of night.
“Hi Peggy,” I responded, keeping my eyes on an unsettled Rory, pacing across the kitchen.
She sighed. “I just wanted to check and see if you heard the news. I tried calling earlier but it seems no one was home.”
“The news?” I asked. “No, I was . . . gone all day.”
“Barbie's been in a terrible accident.”
As if this day could be any worse.
“What?” I asked, forgetting all my troubles in an instant. “Is she going to be okay?”
Peggy responded somberly. “They found her car in the river. It had driven off the road. She was underwater. She's in a coma. It's not looking good.”
“Oh my god,” I gasped as my knees weakened. I lowered myself into the chair behind me for support. “What about Stan? Was he with her?”
“No, he was out of town this week. And, I suppose I shouldn't say this . . .” Gossip always lurked in these parts if one wanted a glimpse. Especially from someone like Peggy, who was married to a deputy in the police department which made her privy to the rare crimes in our area.
“What?”
“Well, the Chesterfields’ boys came up on it, and there are whispers they saw a man crawl out of the car and run . . .” The rest of her words blurred into a hodgepodge of sounds as my attention focused on the man in front of me. The person I had known almost my entire life who had become a stranger. The mud. The cuts and bruises. His missing car.
“Lilly? Lilly? Are you there?” Peggy asked.
“Uh, yes. I'm sorry, this is all such a shock,” I mumbled.
“I know. It's a tragedy. Such a shame. Well, I wanted to let you know . . . you two are so close.” Yeah, so close, apparently closer than I ever thought.
I slid the phone back on the hook as rage and sadness poured out of me in burning hot tears. “What did you do, Rory?” I growled.
“Who was that?” he asked, stepping back from me even though he was ten feet away.
“You know what that was about!” I sobbed as I pointed at the phone. “Barbie? Barbie? You son of a bitch!” I shouted.
“Who was that? Do they know it was me?”
“No . . .” I paused when I realized why he was demanding I take him to his car. “I can’t believe you. You’re planning to lie about this?”
“Lilly, you have to be quiet. Just stay calm. We can fix this.”
“We?” I laughed mockingly. “There is no 'we.' You did this. You made this mess. Now you need to clean it up!” I commanded through gritted teeth.
“You are my wife. For better or for worse.”
“I don't want anything from you. I just never want to deal with you again.”
“You're not divorcing me.”
“I want my keys back.”
“I can't let you leave. The police are probably out there asking questions.”
“I don't want any part of this. I just want my keys.”
“I told you, you aren't taking the car.”
“Dammit, Rory, just let me go!” I pleaded desperately. “Go talk to the police. I am sure they'll understand it was an accident.”
“Oh, I am sure they will,” he rejoined sarcastically. “Where are you gonna go, Lil? What are you going to do by yourself out there? It's you and me, Lilly.”
“You and me? You mean you and Barbie. How long, Rory? I can't believe I didn't see it. How many of those business trips were real?”
“It was the last time. We're moving. I was just saying goodbye. Telling her it was over,” he slurred.
“Oh, well seeing the condition you're in, that was a helluva goodbye.”
“Can’t you just have my back for once, Lilly?”
I sat at home and put my dreams to the side for him. I cleaned this house. I cooked every meal. I pressed his clothes. I became his accessory. And yet, he had the nerve to say I never had his back. That was all I had from him.
“She's in a coma, Rory. She might not make it. This is really bad.”
“Oh god . . . oh god . . .” he buried his face in his hands.
“She has children and you left her there to drown. I thought I knew you . . .”
“I panicked. I couldn't wake her up, and she was stuck. I didn't want to lose everything we have.”
“What do we have?” I asked. “There's nothing left. Nothing.”
“I was never good enough for you. Everything I do is just never enough, is it? Even now, I save her, I'm a jerk when you find out about us. I leave her because I want to save our marriage and it's still wrong.”
“You wanted to save your own ass.” I stabbed my finger in his direction.
I knew I didn't have a right to be angry about Barbie and Rory, at least without making myself a hypocrite. But the truth was, I was mad at myself, for delaying my happiness for something
so false. Bobby was right. Rory needed to be freed too, but he didn't want freedom. He wanted everything—his doting wife and his mistress. He wanted the image of perfection while sneaking around. He wanted the perfect house and he wanted secret romps in the back of his car.
I had to find my way back to Bobby, to the security of his embrace. Never in my life did something feel more certain. Never had I felt more resolute that being with Bobby was the right decision. I didn't want everything. I just wanted Bobby.
I marched into the kitchen, hoping Rory would just let me take the keys when I got closer, but he pulled them back and out of my reach.
“Fine. I'll call someone to come get me.”
“No one is coming here. No one can know I'm home. I walked miles in the dark, through the woods, in pain, just so no one would see me. You're going to sneak me to my car so I can go to Illinois and have an alibi.”
“You are out of your mind,” I said, turning to the phone and closing my eyes, praying that Rory hadn't lost every bit of himself.
“Lilly. Stop,” he reached for my arm, and I tugged it away from him, but all it did was encourage him to grip me tighter. “Let go of me,” I shouted. I gripped the phone as he tried to wrangle it out of my hand. With all my strength, I pulled away as hard as I could. My feet went out from under me as soon as I stepped back into a puddle on the linoleum. As I fell I heard a loud thud. I wondered if the phone had ripped from the wall, or if something fell off the table in the struggle.
“Lilly? Lilly?” Rory crouched over me, his words echoing as if he was on the other end of a tunnel, getting further away. And then his face began to swirl into shades of beige.
Then darkness.
It took me a few painful seconds to recall where I was or the circumstances that lead to the throbbing knot pulsating on the side of my forehead. I wasn't on the wet kitchen floor anymore. I was on something warm and soft. I blinked my eyes over and over again, trying to focus on the blur around me.
“Oh thank god,” Rory stood up from the chair in the corner of our bedroom. I know he didn't mean to hurt me, but things had gone so far off course for us, that I shuddered as he stepped towards me. It wasn't fear, but mistrust. I didn't trust Rory to keep me safe. He was reckless. He was desperate.
“I'm so sorry, Lilly. I didn't mean it.”
Finally the images before my eyes sharpened. Rory was still dirty and sweaty. The blood had dried on his temple. His breath reeked even more strongly of alcohol. He had been drinking while he waited for me to wake.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“It's uh . . .” he glanced at the clock. “Four.”
Eight hours until Bobby left.
“In the morning?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my god,” I said. “You should have taken me to the hospital.”
“Like this? No . . . I watched you all night. You were breathing. You were just knocked out. You woke up and then said you were tired and wanted to sleep.”
I didn't remember any of it.
I sat up and Rory propped some pillows behind me. “I need water.” I winced, massaging my temples.
“Okay, I'll be right back,” he said.
I thought about running out right at that instant. But I'd still have to get past Rory, and I was too dizzy to come to my feet without the room spinning. Rory was back quickly with a glass.
“Here.”
I took a long sip, my throat was parched. He hadn't turned on the AC and the bed underneath me was drenched with my sweat.
“Lilly, I didn't mean what happened.”
“You could have just let me leave. You just keep making things worse, Rory.”
“I'm just trying to fix this.”
I knew this was heading into one of our arguments that goes in a circle. I needed to find another way to deal with this newer, more intoxicated, more panicked Rory.
“You need a shower,” I suggested, hoping this would give me some time alone.
“I know. I didn't want to leave your side.”
“I'm okay now. I'm up.” I faked a smile. “Go shower.”
He looked at me suspiciously. “You can't leave, Lilly. Not until I figure this out.”
“I'm not your enemy, Rory. Why don't we just call Bobby and see if he can help?”
“Lilly, he left for California this morning, didn't he?”
This was not the ideal time to reveal my plan to run away with his brother. “Oh . . .” I grabbed my head. “Yeah. Sorry I forgot. My head.”
Rory's eyes softened with guilt. “Besides, I don't want to involve him in this mess.”
“I won't run, I promise. I couldn’t if I wanted to.”
“This will only be a minute.”
I nodded. Rory undressed in front of me, dumping his filthy, tattered, clothes on the floor and walked out of the bedroom to the bathroom.
I tried to come to my feet, it was worth a shot, but severe vertigo kicked in, knocking me back down on the bed. So, it was on to plan B.
The one benefit of Rory being drunk was he forgot about the phone on my nightstand. I reached for it and called the operator. My heart raced as I had her connect me to Bobby's motel. The phone rang and rang and rang. It was too early.
I gently hung up the phone as Rory returned to the bedroom.
“You look a lot better,” I replied. He was still covered in scrapes and bruises, but losing the mud and dried blood helped quite a bit.
“Yeah,” he grumbled. His eyes were heavy. I knew the booze and lack of sleep would hit him, I just hoped it would sooner than later.
“The sun's coming up,” he said lazily. “We should wait until it's dark again. Same plan. We'll say you were home alone for the past couple of days, cooped up, not feeling well. I was in Illinois.”
“Are you sure you don't want to call the cops?”
“Lilly, do you understand what would happen if I did? No. Absolutely not.”
I sighed. This battle would not be won with aggression. I had to get Rory thinking I was on his side. “Fine. We'll do it your way. Why don't we get some sleep?”
“No. I won't be able to sleep until this is fixed,” he said. “I'm making some coffee.” He headed for the bedroom door and then stopped. “Lilly, I'll make this up to you. I'm sorry about Barbie. And I know it will take a long time to forgive me. But this, when we get through this, I am really done. I know I screwed up.”
“When did it start?” I asked. It didn't make what I did right, but if I knew he was with Barbie for a good while, then my marriage was lost before I ever thought of abandoning it.
“Does it matter?” he asked.
“It does.”
He leaned against the door frame. “Two months ago.”
My head throbbed harder as if the pain was responding to his admission. “How?”
“You went to see your sister and Stan was out of town at the same time. She invited me over for a meal. And . . . do we have to go through this?”
“No. That's enough,” I declared. The odd thing was, I wasn't shocked about Rory. It was the natural evolution of our demise. But Barbie, she insisted on being my friend, and it made no sense. Did she stay close to me to be closer to Bobby? Was it because she felt guilty? I couldn't ask her, she was too busy fighting for her life as the man who drove her into a river planned to skirt the blame.
We sat for hours. Most of it in silence. I watched tensely as Rory's head would bob, and then he would bounce up. He was stubborn as always. I stared at the clock, watching my new life slip away with each minute.
At ten-twenty-one the phone rang. Rory and I made nervous eye contact.
“I'll pick it up. I'm supposed to be here.”
I answered as Peggy's voice on the other line updated me on Barbie's condition. I'm not sure I even said much. I think I just nodded and hung up the phone. Maybe I said thank you.
Without looking over at Rory, just gazing aimlessly into the emptiness of the world in front of me, I uttered the words that would cha
nge my life; not in the way I had planned hours ago.
“Barbie's dead.”
In retrospect, maybe I should have lied to Rory. Maybe I should have held on to the knowledge of Barbie's death. But I was in shock, too. I was angry with Barbie, but she was a friend and her death hurt. At first Rory took the news in silence. It was a deep silence. The kind you can only achieve by being underwater. In that bedroom, not a bird chirped, not an insect trilled, a sheet did not rustle, a throat was not cleared. I couldn't even hear the grandfather clock taunting me down the hall. It was like a vacuum sucked the noise out of the space as Rory sat there, contemplating how he was responsible for a woman's death.
But that silence only lasted seconds. Like the receding of the ocean before a tsunami. Or the eerie quiet breeze before a devastating storm. Rory stood up and without a word, he exploded, swiping everything off of the closest dresser to him. I recoiled as the objects flew every which way, but Rory didn't see me. It was like I wasn't even there. He unleashed a storm of curses and phrases of self-pity. Not once did he say he say her name. It was at that moment that I realized that I believed him. He didn't love her. He was mourning the shift in his own life. How this accident had affected him. Maybe how it affected us. Perhaps in his mind, Rory really was on the path to getting better, having his last hoorah with Barbie before moving us to Minnesota to start fresh. But it didn't matter anymore. I had made my decision before I walked through the door that night.
When there was nothing left to curse or punch, Rory collapsed to the floor and sobbed, his chest heaving in sharp thrusts as he finally mumbled “sorry” over and over again. I wasn't sure to whom. The dizziness from the fall had nearly subsided, and I cautiously approached him, kneeling next to him, and wrapped my arms around him. He turned and buried his head in my chest like a lost, scared boy.
10:34a.m.
We stayed in that position for a while, until his sobs were muted, and then they stopped altogether. He stood up, nodded once, and left the bedroom without saying a word.