Fatal Marriage

by Charlotte Byrd

  I search for close to two hours, looking through everything and then carefully put everything back. If a folder or an envelope was sticking out halfway, then that’s how it goes back.

  Later that afternoon, I meet up with Henry and Jackie.

  This time, I don't dare go to a hotel room. We meet in public, at a coffee shop around the corner from Henry and Franklin’s building. If someone is following me, then our meeting will look like an accident.

  After I order something to drink, I slip my phone into Henry's hand and he disappears into the bathroom. A few minutes later, after transferring the files, he walks out with a blank expression on his face.

  I watch him get in line and order some food while occasionally glancing over at Jackie who watches the video on Henry's phone.

  We sit for a few minutes without saying a word. I guess I'm supposed to start but I don't know what to say.

  “So, that was Governor Barbour?” Jackie asks, taking a sip of his coffee.

  I nod, staring into space.

  “Holy fuck,” Jackie says.

  “Did you have any idea he was doing that?” Henry asks.

  I snap my head and glare at him. “Of course not. I had no idea he was recording anyone or that anyone else was even involved.”

  I nod and add, “There's something else.”

  They look up at me. I break off a piece of a blueberry muffin and shove it in my mouth. The flavor is explosive and it makes me feel better but only for a moment.

  “He's recording them,” I say.

  “What?” Henry asks.

  “If you look closely, you'll see it. I thought that he had spotted my camera and that it was all over but then he moved away and adjusted his.”

  “Why would he do that?” Jackie asks. “Why would he wanna incriminate himself?”

  “He's probably going to cut himself out,” I say, sitting back in the chair and tapping my fingers on the table. “He's doing it for evidence, power. If he has a recording of the governor doing this, then he can get him to do anything and to stop anything from coming out.”

  The three of us sit here and process this realization.

  “I spent the day looking for his recordings. I thought that maybe there's a thumb drive or some sort of external hard drive that he kept in the house but I couldn't find a thing.”

  “What does that mean?” Henry asks.

  I glance at Jackie and wait for him to explain.

  “He must store all the files on his computer.”

  “It's what I think,” I say. “He always has his laptop with him and it's password-protected. I don't know the password.”

  “It must also be thumbprint protected,” Jackie says. “That's a good thing.”

  “How's that?” I ask. “I can't very well use his hand to open his laptop without him knowing.”

  “Actually, you can.”

  A small smile forms at the corner of his lips, giving me hope.

  “You need to find me something that Franklin has touched with his thumb; a used cup or something like that. Something that he held. Then I can make a dummy thumbprint that you can use to get into his laptop.”

  I nod, trying to think of what I can find.

  “He drinks his coffee from an insulated mug,” I suggest.

  “It can't be anything that he will miss,” Jackie insists. “You don't wanna be caught with that.”

  “Sometimes he uses plastic water bottles when he works out,” I say.

  “Yes, that’s perfect,” he says. “If he tosses it, then he's not going to miss it.”

  After we agree on a plan, Jackie leaves to go on another job. Not wanting to spend too much time with Henry alone in public, I tell him that I have to get back.

  “I want to see you again,” he says.

  I shake my head and whisper, “No, he's on to me. It's too dangerous.”

  I walk out of the coffee shop and head down the street, taking a shortcut to the park through an alley. Henry catches up to me. I look around to make sure that we are all alone.

  “What happened when I called you?” he asks. “Something was off.”

  “Franklin is really unpredictable,” I say with a heavy sigh.

  I don't want to tell him what happened. I know that I will only make things worse.

  “Did he hurt you?” Henry asks.

  I shake my head no, hoping that he doesn't look at my face too closely. I'm wearing about a pound of makeup and after watching a couple hours of YouTube videos, I have gotten pretty good at camouflaging the bruises. The problem is that they are still there.

  I walk away from him but he follows me.

  “You can't do this,” I say, turning around. “If he sees us together, he's going to make me pay.”

  “What do you mean? What did he do?”

  Out of the corner of my eye I see him make a fist.

  “You can't do that,” I say, pointing my finger up in space. “You saw the video. You saw what he's capable of. We have to take him down but we need to expose him. Everyone in the world needs to know the truth and that's the only way that it's going to work. You punching him in the face is not going to do anyone any good. Least of all me.”

  His nostrils flare but I can see that my words make sense.

  Henry straightens out his hands, stretching his fingers, and then cracks his knuckles.

  “I know,” he starts quietly. “I'm not going to do anything to fuck this up. You can trust me.”

  “Good,” I say, letting out a sigh of relief.

  Henry looks around and then pulls me closer to him. He touches his lips with mine and all the pain that I have felt seems to vanish but then when he pushes me against the wall, I wince.

  “What's wrong?” Henry asks. “Are you okay?”

  I swallow hard, trying to gather my breath.

  “I barely touched you,” he whispers.

  I give him a nod and raise my hand to wave him away.

  “Everything's fine,” I say after a moment.

  “No, it's not,” he says, tugging on my shirt. I try to push him away but it's too late. He lifts it up and gasps. When I try to pull it down, Henry follows it up around and sees the bruises up and down my back.

  “What the hell is going on?” he asks.

  I don’t answer.

  “Did he do this?” he roars.

  I shake my head no and tears start to flow down my cheeks.

  “Did he do this?” Henry roars again.

  I am crying too much now to stop. As I wipe my face over and over again with the back and the front of my hand, I suddenly realize that I am removing my camouflage. Henry paces back-and-forth and when he comes back and looks directly at me, his eyes become two saucers.

  “Your face,” he whispers and touches me gently.

  I turn away from him, averting my eyes. He pulls up on my chin and briefly touches my cheeks.

  I can't see what he's looking at but I know what's there. The bruises underneath the foundation peek through. He's careful not to rub too hard but my secret is out.

  Suddenly, Henry lets out a primal yelp. It's filled with a kind of rage and anger that I have never heard before.

  He makes a fist with his right hand and drives it into the palm of his left. If there was a wall around, he’d probably push it right through it.

  I gather my thoughts and get a hold of my emotions. I wipe away the last of my tears and stand before him without a single lie between us.

  “This doesn't change a thing,” I say. “We still need to do what we need to do and you can’t go in there and attack him.”

  He paces back-and-forth, letting out a few grunts of discontent.

  “I'm sorry that I lied but I just didn't want you to feel like you're feeling right now.”

  “Oh, and how's that?” he asks.

  “Helpless,” I whisper, putting my hand on his shoulder. He brushes me off and turns around.

  “You know that I have to get that print for Jackie and get that laptop. Who knows how many
other girls and women he has done this to? Who knows how many other powerful men he has recordings of? They all have to go down. We have to bring them all to justice otherwise… he’ll just keep doing it.”

  “Franklin deserves to pay for this,” Henry says, his words barely audible.

  “He will. He hurt me but not in the way that he has hurt all of those women.”

  Henry looks up at me, narrowing his eyes.

  “He punched me and he physically assaulted me but he hasn't forced me to do anything sexual.”

  “Not yet,” Henry says. “If you go back there, what is going to stop him?”

  “I don't know,” I say after a long pause. “For some reason, so far, he is taking no for an answer.”

  When I try to touch him again, he brushes me off.

  “I'm the one that he hit and you are acting like this is all about you,” I say.

  “It's not,” Henry admits. “I know. You’re right. I'm just so… angry.”

  “Me, too, but you have to channel that anger somewhere else. You have to give me time. You can't make this worse otherwise they will all get away with it.”

  He gives me a slight nod.

  “You need to promise me, Henry. Promise me you won't betray me. Promise me that Franklin will not know that anything is off until I get that laptop and we get a plan together.”

  “But what if something happens to you in the meantime?”

  “I don't know,” I say, shaking my head. “That's just a gamble that we have to take. If I don't do this, then no one will ever find out and I can't live with that.”

  We stand here looking at each other for a long time. Finally, he gives me a slight nod.

  “Okay,” he says. “I promise.”

  19

  Aurora

  When I get home, Franklin is already there. He's waiting for me right by the front door. My hands start to shake but I bury them in my pockets. I force a smile on my face and pretend that nothing is going on.

  “Where have you been?” he asks.

  “Just out, had some coffee.”

  “Is that so?” he asks.

  I give him a slight nod, take off my jacket, and hang it in the closet.

  He’s standing a foot away from me, waiting. He doesn’t move so I have to physically walk around him.

  His moods are getting the better of me. I never know what I'm about to come into.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “Yeah, perfect. Just wondering where the hell my wife is and what she's doing with her days.”

  “I was just out. I thought that you were at work. How's everything going?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

  “Fine,” he says. “We should be signing all the paperwork in a couple of days and Tate Media will officially have a parent company. What do you think about that?”

  “I know that it will make my father happy,” I say.

  “What about you?”

  “Honestly, I don't know if this would’ve been my decision. I prefer autonomy, but my father insists that this is the best thing.”

  I'm dancing around what I really mean, a bit clumsily.

  “You're a very difficult woman to please,” Franklin says.

  “No, I don't think so.”

  “Well, you're married to me and you don't seem happy.”

  “You don't seem to be particularly happy to be married to me either,” I point out.

  “Why would I be? You don't want to touch me with a ten-foot pole and we are newlyweds.”

  “Is that what this is about?” I ask. “I already told you. I walked in on you having sex with, what was it, two young women? It doesn't make me feel very cozy or positive about our relationship.”

  “I wouldn’t have done that if you were at all accommodating.”

  I shake my head.

  “You don't agree?”

  “I don't wanna talk about this anymore. I feel like all we do is go in circles.”

  “Okay, then,” Franklin takes a step away from me, “what do you want to talk about?”

  I want to say, how about the fact that you locked me in my room while you attacked two teenage girls, but I don’t.

  “Have you seen Henry today?” Franklin asks and my blood runs cold.

  I'm not sure how to answer. A part of me wants to lie but we were right around the corner from his building, on purpose. I met in a public place because I didn't want it to look like I’m sneaking around.

  “Yeah, actually. I ran into him and Jackie, his PI, at Starbucks down the street.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Franklin asks.

  I give him a nod and say, “Yeah.”

  He looks at me for a few moments, moving his jaw from one side to the other. If he's trying to intimidate me, it’s working.

  “I thought that I told you not to talk to him again.”

  “I just ran into him,” I say. “Nothing is going on.”

  “I want us to be an open book.”

  “Me, too.” I nod.

  “I don’t want to worry about you being with your ex.”

  “Then don’t,” I say. “I’m not.”

  I’m tempted to bring up one of his affairs, but I bite my tongue. He can have as many consensual sexual relationships as he wants with women his own age. I don't give a fuck. In fact, I wish that he would find someone that he'd want to be with so that she can take my place.

  “I don't wanna fight with you anymore, Aurora. This conversation is getting a little boring,” he says, pointing his finger in my face.

  His voice is quiet and low but he's not agitated.

  I want it to stay that way.

  “I don't wanna fight with you either,” I say. “I don't want you to think that there's anything going on because there isn't. I'm married to you and Henry is nothing but a faint memory.”

  “I like the sound of that,” he says, pulling me closer to him.

  My heart skips a beat but I don't push away. Not yet.

  He's just being friendly. I don't want to assume anything that would make this worse.

  Franklin gives me a kiss on the cheek and I turn my head and put it on his shoulder.

  Accepting his tenderness, I don't want to push him away but I don't want to turn it into something else either.

  He holds me for a while and I let him. I listen to the beating of his heart as my own continues to skip beats.

  His breathing is slow and deliberate. I listen to him inhale and exhale. I feel my body move along with his with each breath.

  “This is nice,” Franklin says. “Isn't it?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  Of course, it's not. He's holding me captive. There's not a physical barrier separating us but rather one of fear. If he were anyone else, I would push him away and tell him to leave me the fuck alone but I can't.

  He's my husband. I need him to think that he's my friend at least for the time being. He doesn't know that I'm playing a game that I can only win if I keep going.

  Franklin pulls away from me and looks into my eyes. We share a moment.

  He glances down at my lips and I look at his. He makes a move to kiss me. Now, I have to decide. Do I let him and tell him that it's okay? Or do I dare to say no?

  “Can I kiss you?” he asks.

  I press my feet as much into the floor as possible, hoping that it will just open up and swallow me whole.

  Sensing my hesitation, he says, “I don't usually ask but I thought that I would give you that courtesy since you are… my wife.”

  There's hopefulness in his voice. It's almost as though he knows that I won't be able to refuse.

  “No,” I say.

  My word is barely audible but Franklin hears it. He shakes his head, darting his eyes away from me.

  “Why do you have to be like that?” he demands.

  “Like what?”

  “The way you are. Why does everything have to be so difficult?”

  “Why is this difficult?” I ask. “You asked me if you could kiss me and I said no
.”

  “That's not what I'm talking about and you know it,” he says. “I want to get close to you. I want to fuck you. And you? You don't want that?”

  I shake my head no.

  “Why not?”

  “I didn't want to marry you, Franklin, but you insisted. So, here we are. I'm your wife. You asked me if you could kiss me and I said no. Now it's up to you.”

  “What is?” he asks.

  “Will you kiss me despite the fact that I said no?”

  He glares at me. His brows furrow and his irises become tiny like pinholes. I can feel his rage building and I take a deep breath and prepare myself for impact.

  “What the fuck?!” Franklin roars.

  He raises his hand in the air but instead of hitting me, he punches the wall. I flinch and move away from him. He catches me and pushes me up against the wall.

  He puts his hand around my neck and squeezes.

  I start to gag.

  I can't take a breath and my head starts to feel like it's about to explode. When everything begins to go black, he lets go and I drop onto the floor.

  “You're a fucking bitch, you know that? One of these days you're going to get what's coming to you!”

  Franklin raises his hand again and I lift my arms to block his blow but instead of hitting me, he hits the pillow.

  When he leaves, Franklin slams the door on his way out. Through the tears flowing down my cheeks, I look over at the dresser.

  There, right next to the vase with freshly cut roses, I see that he has forgotten his Starbucks cup.

  I force myself to my feet, still shaken, and carefully place the cup into a Ziploc bag that I fish out of my purse.

  20

  Aurora

  I meet up with Jackie the following day. We meet up alone without Henry and that’s at my request. It’s a nondescript diner, one that I chose because no one I know ever goes here.

  I get here early and take a seat. I’m hungry so I order a stack of pancakes. The waitress is a tired woman in her forties with thinning hair and sallow skin. She offers me coffee with free refills but I opt for an Earl Grey instead.