by E. G. Scott
I put the pillow on his face and throw my body over it. He pulls me hard and sharply, and a blinding light of pain explodes in my shoulder. I lay my knee on his arm to keep it from pulling on me again. His grip weakly reaches for the pillow covering his face and I bear down. I shut my eyes tight until he stops moving beneath me. I stay that way for a very long time.
I don’t move until I hear the sound of the police breaking down the door.
The sounds of knocking rouse me. I’m still in the front hallway closet and Duff is panting over me, his giant tail thumping against the door. I can see slivers of the morning sun coming in through the windows around Duff’s body, which feels even more enormous than usual in the small space we are sharing. I’m no sooner out of the enclosure and on my feet than Paul bounds down the stairs, dressed and beaming. He wraps me in a big bear hug and lifts me off the ground. “Today’s the day, Madoo!”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so excited.
fifty-seven
PAUL and REBECCA
HE TIES THE blindfold tightly.
“Can you see anything?” he asks.
I look down and around. Only the smallest sliver of light shines through. “Nothing.”
“Ready to go for a ride?” His hand protectively guiding my arm contradicts the subtly sinister tone in his voice. It has been a long time since he’s put a blindfold on me, and it was under much different circumstances. I’m realizing how close fear and desire lie. But today, I am all fear.
I let him guide me into the passenger side of the car and close the door. Without sight, my hearing is the only guide to Paul’s moves. I suppress a gasp when the familiar sound of the back door of the Jeep opening is followed by a loud thud. Warm breath and panting in my ear momentarily calm my fractured nerves. I’m surprised that Paul’s decided to bring Duff along on this particular outing. Sensing my unease, Duff nuzzles my shoulder.
I reach into the bag on my lap, comforted that I’ve kept my weapons close. I wrap my hand around the Celtic letter opener I placed in it last night. The feel of the cool knotted handle comforts me slightly.
Paul gets into the Jeep and starts the engine with one hand on my thigh. He gives a firm squeeze.
“Ready?”
* * *
SHE’S RIGHT WHERE I want her.
Duff settles into his spot in the back seat. Rebecca seems on edge with anticipation. I back out of the driveway and onto the street. Before we get going, I switch the stereo on. The playlist I’ve made for the occasion is cued up, and as we set off for our destination, the opening strains of Van Morrison’s “Into the Mystic” spill from the speaker.
I feel my body vibrate with excitement. A dull throb takes hold of my bicep as the adrenaline kicks in. I let out a pained grunt.
“Paul, what’s wrong?” she asks.
“Just a little sore, babe. It’s nothing. Don’t worry.”
I recover, take Rebecca’s hand in mine, and squeeze purposefully. I can feel the rush that she’s experiencing as she squeezes back.
* * *
MY HAND IS CLAMMY IN PAUL’S. He keeps squeezing, reminding me that there is no place for me to go. But now I see an opportunity.
“It doesn’t sound like nothing. You’re in pain. I have some of your wraps in my bag; you can put one on when we get to wherever you’re taking me.” If the drugs do their work in time, I may not need the letter opener after all.
The sounds of our early relationship are playing in the car and Paul is quiet beside me. Paul has strung together a soundtrack of our love through the years in a perfect slow knife twist.
“Where are we going, Paul?” I hear the nervousness in my voice.
“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you that, Madoo.”
Next to the dagger, I feel the more comforting smoothness of the pill bottle. Without sight, I can’t know for sure if Paul is looking at me, but I take the chance when I hear him lower the window and start whistling to the croon of Elvis’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” Our song. As I work the top of the bottle off with my fingers and slide an Oxy out, I think better of it. I want to have my wits about me. I let the song take me back and think about our slow dance in the footprint of our house-to-be. Something turns over in my heart. I never realized how much this song sounds like an ending.
“How much longer until we get there?”
“Not too long. Just sit back and relax.”
Easy for him to say.
* * *
AS WE SPEED ALONG the Northern State Parkway, my mind slips back in time. I remember this same drive, with the dawn light on my heels and another woman in the back seat. How much has happened, how far we’ve come. The mistakes we’ve made, separately and together.
My heart feels at once heavy and relieved. After tonight, everything will be right with the world, and I can enjoy the life I was meant to live. I can let go of the burdening weight that once threatened to drag me under.
Nearly there now. Nearly new again.
* * *
PAUL TURNS DOWN the last strains of Dire Straits’ “Romeo and Juliet” and the absence of the song gives way to the sound of wheels on gravel. I feel the car slowing and, in protest, my heart speeding up.
“Sit tight for a minute, babe. I’ll be right back for you.” The excitement in his voice is deeply unsettling.
His door closes and the back door opens, an excited Duff ambling out and landing heavily on the gravel below. Paul calls to him and the sound of leash connecting with collar clicks in the air. Paul’s footsteps move away from the car, followed by the excited scramble of four legs behind him.
I’m alone in the silence. I open the glove box and feel the cold metal of the gun. Before I can slide it into my bag, I hear Paul’s footsteps approaching. I slam the glove box shut, just as I hear the passenger door open. Paul reaches across me and I hold my breath as I hear him open and remove something from the glove box.
Whatever we’ve been building up to is finally here, for better or for worse.
* * *
“MADOO. IT’S TIME.”
I clasp her hand and help her out of the Cherokee. Her palm is slick with anticipation. I place my other hand on the small of her back and lead her along the gravel path. I feel her body tremble excitedly and feel a jolt of pain in my own.
“Babe, I’m going to take you up on your offer,” I say, eyeing her bag.
“Of course,” she counters, reaching for the box of wraps. She hands them to me, and I remove a packet, open it, roll up my sleeve, and apply the wrap.
Duff has bounded ahead of us, and he begins to whine impatiently. Rebecca tenses under my guiding touch. I lean close and whisper into her ear. “Almost there, my love. Just a few more feet.”
* * *
THE PATCH IS ON HIM. There’s no turning back now.
His breath is warm on my neck as he unties the blindfold. I keep my eyes closed. I want to stay in the dark. He laughs.
“Madoo, open your eyes.”
He wraps his strong arms around my waist, pulls my hair to one side, and kisses the exposed skin on my neck before resting his chin on my shoulder. The contact sends chills up and down my entire body.
“Happy anniversary, baby.”
I open my eyes and the scene comes into static focus. Paul releases his hold and walks a few feet ahead. He watches my face intently as he ascends three wide steps leading to an enormous wooden door. My speechlessness pleases him. He reaches his hand out.
Instead, I back up a few paces, putting distance between us. The wind blowing through the pines takes my attention from the house to the crests lining the perimeter. The house isn’t what is familiar; the trees are. We’ve been here before.
The disparate pieces before me are configuring themselves. Sky above, house in front, ground below. Paul, Duff, a threshold. Our missing life savings. And above the
door, a wrought-iron bird hanging.
A dove.
* * *
“MY DOVE.”
My wife seems overwhelmed. She remains in a daze as I lead her inside our new home. The home that almost never was.
* * *
I FOLLOW PAUL into the house and gasp when I see the entryway. The ceilings are so high it feels like they are in another time zone. I walk around the open space looking upward and around and down, because my surroundings are unbelievable and because looking at Paul feels too difficult.
The afternoon light is pouring in through the sunrise window above the doorway. Everything in sight seems to have been sprinkled with fairy dust, each angle and surface picking up a different cut of the light and projecting it in a prismatic sheen.
Paul sweeps his arms up and around. “This is what I’ve been doing.”
I’m speechless.
“Are you okay, Madoo?”
“Yes. I’m just . . . just overwhelmed.” I try to smile and fail while I search for words. “Can I have some water?”
He’s overjoyed with my request, and I realize why when he takes me by the hand, pulling me into a breathtaking kitchen. It is nearly the size of our entire cottage and composed of every detail he and I ever discussed. The marble countertop runs the length of the space, with leather stools lining one side of the surface. A place to sit and talk while the other is making dinner, just as we always wanted.
I scan the room and see the brand-new chrome appliances and the glass-front cabinets along the top half of the wall behind Paul. He whistles while he gets me a glass from the stocked shelves and draws water from the refrigerator door. He hands me the glass of water. His face is expectant.
“Paul, you did all of this?”
“Well, I had a lot of help. But, yeah. I designed everything, picked out all of the appliances, fixtures, and materials. I kept all of the notes we’ve made over the years. Remember that pizza box we wrote on, on our wedding night?” I nod. A relic from a hundred lifetimes ago.
He points to the wall behind me. I see the cardboard that Paul crudely sketched our floor plan on, framed beautifully. Along one side, in my handwriting, a list of our house must-haves. I walk over to it and put my hand on the glass, not quite believing it is a thing I can touch. My tears are coming fast.
“Paul. I thought—”
“I know. I didn’t think we’d ever do it either.”
“No, but, I thought you’d been—”
“It’s kind of amazing that you didn’t guess it. Every day I kept waiting for you to confront me about the money in the shared account. Lucky for me, you’ve been so busy with work.”
He spins me around and there is a mirror along the wall behind a breakfast nook.
“Look at us. Twenty years, honey. We made it. Better than ever.”
Tears roll down my cheeks. I struggle to remember something, but the flood of information drowns whatever it is I can’t recall. My face looks strange and distorted in the reflection.
“Paul, it is so much. How did you do it all? How did you keep it from me?”
“Honey, you haven’t even seen the half of it.” His face becomes deadly serious. “But before I give you the tour, there’s something we need to talk about.” My heart drops into my feet.
* * *
I GUIDE REBECCA to the stuffed leather chair in the corner of the living room, next to the double-sided fireplace. I sit her down, then reach into my pocket, pull out the box I had stashed in the glove compartment, and get down on one knee.
“Madoo, this is the ring you’ve deserved all along. The one I couldn’t afford to get you back then but have always wanted you to wear.” She stares in disbelief as I slip the old ring off her finger and replace it with the new one. I’m taken aback by the horrified look on her face. “What’s wrong?”
My wife is weeping. I kiss the palms of her hands, then move to stand up. My knees shake, and I feel a wave of dizziness and nausea roll through me. I sit down next to her and she stands and moves away from me.
“What about your other family?” she asks, with a mixture of fury and terror.
“Who are you talking about?”
“Who’s Dana?”
“Dana? She’s my therapist.”
“Your therapist?!”
“From when I was a kid. ‘Dr. A.’ Her name is Dana Atwell. I told you about her. I’ve been going to her again . . . after what happened . . .”
“Paul, stop lying! She’s younger than you are!”
“Huh?”
She’s irate now. “I saw your family. The three of you . . . You were a perfect picture together in the yard. I saw you with her and the little boy—he looks just like you!”
“What are you . . .” It hits me. “Baby, that’s Dana’s daughter. And grandson. They’re staying with . . .” I feel a rush of euphoria as the floor gives out.
* * *
“I THOUGHT YOU were going to . . . Oh my God!”
He is on the ground before I can break his fall. The memory of what I’ve done and forgotten in the flurry of Paul’s surprises rushes in as quickly and cripplingly as the drugs that have now overtaken his bloodstream. The extent of how wrong I’ve been is unimaginable.
“Paul, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Oh my God, what have I done?”
“Madoo, what’s happening?” His face is a mix of confusion and bliss.
I kneel and prop up his head with one hand. I frantically tear at the wrap on his biceps and pull it away from his skin. He looks at me for an explanation.
“Paul, I did something terrible.”
“It’s okay, baby, I know about the pills. We are going to get you help.” His moans express his struggle to string words together.
I pull his head into my lap. “I found the letter, Paul. You wrote that you wanted to kill me! I had to defend myself.” I can barely breathe through my tears.
“Kill you? Don’t be silly, Madoo.” His head is lolling from side to side. “I love you.”
I’m trying to remember if my phone is in the car or in my purse in the entryway of this house. I can’t tell how much of the Euphellis has permeated and if there’s a chance I can undo what I’ve done.
“Madoo?” Paul’s eyes are half-open.
“Paul, stay with me! I’m going to get help!”
“Yes, I’m going to get you help, Madoo. I’ve been so worried about you . . . I’ve been writing to your addiction.” He has a goofy smile crossing his face; the drugs are overwhelming him now. “To try and separate you from it. That was the letter I wrote. I know this isn’t who you are.”
I’m surprised how carefree and wonderful I feel. I’m overtaken by chemical rapture, and surprised because I haven’t taken a pill in hours. I look down at the wrap intertwined with my fingers and realize I’m not going anywhere. In my frenzy, I’ve been squeezing the Euphellis into my bare palm.
Instead of opening my hands to discard the heat wrap I squeeze them tighter to make sure every last drop of the Euphellis bleeds into me.
There is no help for us.
* * *
“MADOO? WHY?” I can barely muster the air to push the words out.
“You were going to kill me. The gun. I saw the gun, and there were so many lies.” Her words are coming out in whispers.
When I speak, my voice sounds like molasses oozing inside my skull. “The gun? Babe, you were scaring me, with the pills. I wasn’t going to leave a loaded gun in the house.”
Rebecca appears utterly defeated. “I’m so sorry. I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”
I stare at the love of my life as a fresh wave of euphoria soaks me from the inside out. Duff’s wet snout nestles against my neck.
I feel a wave slowly pulling me into the floorboards.
* * *
MY EYES SCAN THE ROOM and are drawn to th
e matching set on the mantel. They look almost identical to the shattered pair, now seemingly back together.
“What? I broke them. How?” I’m not sure what is real in this room anymore.
He can barely keep his eyes open now, but he knows what I’m referring to. “Twenty is the china year. It took me a while, but I found them. Happy anniversary, baby. Welcome home.” Paul’s body sighs and his face releases. Duff begins to whine and bark. Before I close my eyes, I get one last look at the house he built me and the guardian lions watching over us.
fifty-eight
SILVESTRI
DUFF KICKS UP waves of sand as he bounds after the tennis ball I’ve thrown him. Wolcott sits on the bench, consulting his notebook. The bay remains calm as the fall breeze picks up.
“Come here, fella.”
Duff retrieves the ball and runs at me, nearly knocking me over. I scratch him behind the ears as he slobbers down my pant leg.
“We gotta get back,” my partner calls out to me.
“Right on.”
We approach Wolcott as he stands from the bench, looking amusedly at Duff and me. “Never would have pegged you for such a softie, Silvestri.”
“What, was I gonna leave him in that house? Morbid fucking scene, brother. I’ve got a little more decency than that.”
“So, just doing the right thing, eh?” He shakes his head.
“Something like that,” I answer, stifling a grin.
“Speaking of which, I just got word that the murder house is on the market.”
“Jesus. Who’d buy that thing up?” I shake my head. “If they had any idea what went down in that place.”
