by Laila Cole
***
We’d turned the corner to my parent’s neighborhood when out of the window I saw Steven’s Jeep Wrangler parked in front of my mother’s home next to the curb. My hands began to sweat as the limousine inched closer to their house. I never should have told him I was staying here.
I tapped on the window separating George from me as the limo came to a stop and he opened it. “Thanks George. I got it from here.”
“Suit yourself,” he said. The passenger door popped open. “Give me a call if you ever need a ride again. If you’re a friend of Damien you’re a friend of mine.” He all but winked at me.
I smiled, but that smile quickly faded as Steven emerged from the shadows of my parents’ patio, startling me half to death. My heart raced as I caught my breath. “Hey Miss Fancy. Where were you?”
“A corporate event with Susan,” I said, trying to justify the limousine and my pretty white dress.
“Really?” he said.
“Really. And what’s it to you anyways?”
“Nothing. It’s fine. Your mother wouldn’t let me in and told me to leave. I think they went to sleep but I decided to wait out here for you instead.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think?” he said.
“Steven please just go home. I can’t keep doing this.”
He ignored me. “So, I assume you told your parents what I did?” I backed away from him as he crept toward me. “Answer me! Did you tell your parents that I hit you or not?”
I nodded. “Of course I did. I couldn’t hide from the bruises. Now please just leave me alone! I’m fucking begging you.”
He nodded and started to cry. “I’m so sorry, Jen. I’m just so confused.” He walked toward me again and tried to hug me but I slipped from his grasp. As I did I backed into the ambient glow of the streetlights lining the sidewalk. Steven’s facial expressions changed. “You look pretty, a little too pretty. I can’t remember the last time you looked like that for me. What was it our wedding?”
“Thanks for that. I’ll take it as a compliment.”
“But should you? Now why don’t you tell me where you really were,” he said.
“I’m not going to repeat myself,” I said.
“Why? Are you afraid you’ll catch yourself up in your lies?”
Every bone in my body stiffened. “We had a business party and Susan and I dressed up. So what.”
He scratched his head confused. “In a dress like that? No, no I don’t buy it.”
“Stop being paranoid. Leave.”
“You’re a fucking slut!” he screamed. His glare intensified as he grabbed the dress Damien had given me, ripped open the traveler and stared at it. He threw it into the lawn. “Who bought you that dress, huh? I know you can’t afford it yourself on your shitty little salary.”
I fought every urge to cry as he insulted me. “No one. I won it at an event tonight, along with the ride home in the limo.”
“And let me guess, the dress is custom fit for you, right? Put it on!” he yelled. “I want to see you in it.”
I shook my head. “No. I won’t.”
He smiled. “That’s what I thought. I expected that you were angry, but this, this I didn’t expect.” His scowl was more savage than the first time he hit me.
“Steven, it was just a party. Ok? Please, you need to go home.”
He stepped toward me and clenched his fist, pumping his fingers into the palms of his hands. “Tell me the fucking truth!”
“I did.”
“What? I am not worthy of the truth? This is your last chance before you really make me mad.”
“What do you want me to tell you? That I met another man I like more than you?”
His face grew ever more intense. “That’s a start.”
I put my head down; I couldn’t look him in the eyes or stop the tears that began to leak from my eyes. “I’m sorry, Steven. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
He spit at me and missed. “That’s what I thought. You disgust me! Who is he? Do I know him?” His paranoia was evident by his rambling machine gun mouth.
“No,” I said. “Please just go. You need to leave before my parents or their neighbors hear this.”
He crowded me. “I’m not going anywhere. Did you fuck him? Huh?” My heart raced too fast to respond, as I feared another strike to my face. “Tell me god dammit! Did you fuck him?”
“No, Steven, I didn’t. I swear. It was just a drink. Nothing more, nothing less.”
He’d backed me into the garage door and took a sniff of my hair. “You’re a god damn liar! His scent is all over you! Here I am groveling and apologetic, only what do I find? I find that you don’t give a shit about our marriage at all. That when you were talking of commitment, vows and respect, and all the things you’ve harped on me for over the years, that they were all just bullshit and lies!”
“That’s not true,” I said sobbing.
“This just makes me sick to my stomach! How long has this been going on?”
“A week,” I said, my voice unsteady.
“I don’t believe you!” he screamed. “I ought to smack you! You deserve a man that hits you, you stupid bitch.”
I shook my head from side to side. “Please stop saying these things! You can’t talk to me in this way it’s not right! I’m sorry Steven; I didn’t mean to hurt you. I really didn’t.”
“Well it’s too late,” he said. “It’s just too late. I came here wanting to talk things out face to face. To let you know that I’ve gone back to work as an agent in the DEA.”
“Really?” I said surprised.
“Yea, the DEA found a hot lead on the cartel that killed Erick. I’m going back in where I started, making a purpose out of my anger, just like you’d always told me to do.”
“That’s good. I’m glad.”
“I thought you’d be happy that I’m making a commitment to turn my life around and stay sober. I guess not.”
“I am happy for you. Why would you think I’m not? Christ I’m not as evil as you paint me to be.”
“You keep telling yourself that,” he said. “I guess then I’m not the only person you’re lying to.”
“Listen! I’m no saint, but you never should have hit me. I’m not saying two wrongs make a right because they don’t. I thought maybe I could look past your rage and anger this once, but I realize now that I can’t.”
“You can and you will,” he said.
“I can’t and I won’t. Now leave before I scream.”
“Is this how it ends between us?” he said.
I nodded, refusing to say another word.
“You’re wrong,” he said. “It’s not over.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, choking up.
“Another line of bullshit from one Jen Davenport. You’re not sorry because all you care about is yourself. All you’ve ever cared about is yourself.”
Somehow I’d become the villain and I couldn’t allow it. “I deserve to be happy you know? Am I ever going to be happy in your den of misery and self-pity?”
He didn’t respond.
“I asked you a question you ungrateful, miserable ogre!”
His lip quivered.
“I gave everything to you for nothing in return!”
Steven’s hand began to shake.
“Go on then, hit me if you must. Hit your soon-to-be ex-wife. This time you’re not even drunk, so what does that make you?”
I was startled by the squealing sound of the garage door as it pulled up on its runners. I turned around to find my father holding a shotgun. “I thought I told you to leave,” he said, pumping it and pointing it at Steven.
Steven spit on the driveway. “Fuck you old man. I never liked you or your whore daughter.”
“Say that again and I’ll blow you to kingdom come! And for the record, I ain’t never liked you either.”
“Dad!” I cried. “Please put the gun down!”
“Not until this bastard leaves,” he said. �
��One!”
“You’re not going to do shit! Just remember, I’m an officer of the law and you ain’t.”
“Two! I don’t care what you are. You’re just a monster to me. And if you think I’m fucking around Steve, you better think again. When I count three I’m going to kill you.”
Steven stood there, contemplating his next move. “Whatever old man. I’m done with you and your family.” He stomped down the driveway toward his Jeep and drove away.
My father lowered the gun and held me. “We told him to leave. I had no idea he was waiting out here for you until I heard the two of you arguing. Did he hit you again?”
“No. He just insulted and threatened me.”
“Typical. He’s a no good son-of-a-bitch and he always has been. You’re leaving him, end of story. I haven’t killed a man since Vietnam and I don’t want to do it again.”
“I know Dad. I didn’t mean to catch you up in this.”
“Why? That’s what I’m here for. To protect my little girl.”
“I’m 34.”
“So,” he said, hugging me. “You’ll always be my little girl. Got it?”
“Got it,” I said resting my head on his shoulder. “Thank you.”
“Listen. I’ve already found you a good lawyer, said he’ll make mincemeat out of him and get you everything he owns. I’ll cover all the costs out of my pension.”
“I don’t want anything of his. Freedom is enough.”
“Well that too!” my Dad said.
I walked into the grass and picked up my beautiful Chanel dress and wiped the lawn clippings from the fabric. Staring at that dress I’d realized that I’d lost a husband but gained a lover, and who knew, perhaps something more. I’d gained someone who cared for me, who would look after my interests, and who would build me up rather than tear me down, let alone beat me. And I realized then that that is exactly what I needed.
But even though I’d found Damien it didn’t make my split with Steven any easier. I loved him at one time. The pain of our split was raw and all too real as a nightmare of negativity flooded into my life. The throbbing of my four day old bruises paled in comparison. The old adage I’d so often repeated as a child wasn’t true. Sticks and stones could break my bones, but words, well words not only could hurt me, they could poison my soul as well. And they had.
I struggled myself to sleep strung out on bad emotions. The thought of enduring my punishing workload in the morning was almost too much to bear. I needed a break, and I was determined to take one.
