Empty Shell

by Ashley Fontainne

  When my body finally shut down from lack of sleep and food, so did my mind. I didn’t dream, at least not that I could recall. I slipped into the darkness, blissfully free from the spinning images and thoughts of my ruined life. Waking earlier, I was still brokenhearted and terrified of the vast unknown that awaited me, but the rest had revived me—to a point. Enough that I knew I couldn’t hide inside the dark caverns of my heart any longer. Couldn’t cower from the situation like a frightened child.

  When I crashed, my accompanying emotions were sadness and grief. When I awoke earlier, a new one had taken hold—anger. Deep, soul piercing anger. Most of it directed toward Jack and some at Serena. A dollop for the entire situation we faced. But mostly, what ate away at my insides was what this whole debacle was doing to my mother. She was in her mid-eighties, of fading health after my father’s death four years ago, and the only family I had left. I cringed at my callousness for leaving her alone to deal with this.

  I clung to this new sensation like a lifesaver and held on tight, determined to wade through the burning fire and be there for my mom.

  “Thank you,” I managed after swallowing a gulp of hot coffee. My stomach lurched in protest at the reintroduction of food. Even the dried toast didn’t want to stay down.

  No, no more. I won’t puke again. Not today.

  Regina reached across the table and patted my arm. “If you are thanking me for making you bland toast, wait until you see what I’m making for lunch. A culinary treat, I assure you.”

  I wanted to smile at my closest friend’s humor, but couldn’t. The muscles of my mouth didn’t recall on their own how to and my brain certainly didn’t have the ability to force them to oblige. It was too preoccupied with other things. Things that were shredding me to pieces on the inside, tearing my soul into useless chunks. Things that, if I didn’t let out, would eventually kill me.

  “Bologna sandwiches?” I muttered.

  “Huh?”

  “Bologna sandwiches? Is that the culinary delight I have to look forward to?” I asked, my first real, cohesive sentence in days.

  “Yep. And if you’re lucky, I might just boil some water and put something in it tonight for a hot meal. Whoever said I was a bad cook lied like a dog. Lied, I tell you!”

  Simba whined from under the table, her tail thumping on the floor. My furry best friend only left my side each day when Regina came to gather her off the bed and take her outside for a walk to do her business. She wouldn’t even leave her spot next to me on the bed to eat. Regina had to bring her bowl to her and set it on the edge of the bed. She whined softly beside me whenever I cried, her warm tongue caressing my skin occasionally, like she was trying to heal my wounds. When I paced the floors, she matched each step with me. Poor thing, she was exhausted, just like her master.

  I grabbed my coffee cup and stood up, then walked over to the counter and picked up Simba’s leash. Three bites of toast were all my shrunken stomach was going to allow me to feed it. I knew if I stayed put, Regina would try to force me to eat more and I was determined not to be sick today. Three full days of projectile vomiting was enough.

  “Come on, bring your coffee and let’s sit outside. I…I’m ready to talk, if you want to listen.”

  “Well, I have been waiting since Monday morning to hear those words leave those cute little lips of yours, sweetie. I’m all ears!” Regina gushed. She wrapped her arm around mine, a smile stretched from ear to ear as we walked outside.

  The minute we stepped out onto the deck, the peaceful sounds of the river, the happy tweets of the birds and a few distant moos from the cows in the pasture over the small rise greeted us. The air was thick with humidity, the morning fog still lingering over the meandering river as it wound its way through the valley below us. Roger sure knew how to pick a quiet retreat to escape from the world.

  Miles from the main road, the four bedroom cabin wasn’t an actual cabin, but a home―complete with a wrap-a-round porch, a three car garage and big screen television sets in every bedroom. The landscaping was impeccable. It was made to look like nature had taken over and created everything, but I knew from my own experience with flowers and shrubs that it took a lot of time, effort and money to achieve that look. Plus, I paid all of Roger’s bills each month and I knew how much it cost to keep the place running.

  It was a perfect hideaway and one that no one would ever find without a detailed map or guide. Nestled amongst the trees on the top of a small hill, with back windows facing the Caddo River. The closest neighbor was ten miles to the east. No sounds of the city to destroy the natural hum. I couldn’t think of a better place to unload my baggage at Regina’s feet.

  Simba finished with her morning ritual, and Regina and I settled on the swing that hung from a gigantic oak limb facing the water. I reached down and unlatched the leash from Simba’s neck.

  Regina grabbed her collar “Won’t she run? Chase the cows or something?”

  I smiled and patted Simba’s fluffy head. “She hasn’t left my side for three days. What do you think?”

  Sure enough, when Regina let go, Simba stretched and then curled up under my feet. “See. Told you. I may not know much, but I do know my dog.”

  Regina sipped her coffee and waited. She knew I was ready to talk, but she didn’t pry or try to force the words out of me. Her unending patience was one of her many virtues, along with her sense of humor, and yet another reason I adored her so.

  “I want to thank you for being here for me. And the clothes. And for getting Simba. I mean, you dropped everything for me. I don’t think I will ever be able to say—”

  “Stop right there. Friends don’t thank friends for being friends. And the clothes? Hey, we’ve shared them for years. Why do you think I picked you for a best friend? We’re the same size. Swapping clothes cuts down on expenses. But, this conversation isn’t about me, it’s about you and this…situation. So, leave me out of it, unless, of course, you have instructions that I need to carry out. Bidding to attend to. Wishes to grant.”

  Regina clasped her hands together in mock prayer and bowed. Nothing like a friend with a sense of humor that knew no bounds to help ease her troubled friend through the murky waters of uncertainty.

  I took one last sip of coffee and began the line of questions I was petrified to ask. I forced the paralegal inside of me to emerge, though I had no idea how long she would remain in control. “I assume you have kept in touch with Roger? My Mom?”

  “Yes,” Regina’s reply was hesitant. I heard the heaviness in her voice. She sensed the questions were forced. My clipped words were a sham that could end at any moment. Thankfully, her cadence mimicked my own.

  “Have you watched or read any news?”

  “No. I followed Roger’s instructions to the letter. No news media. Only used my cell to converse with him and your Mom. I shut yours off once we arrived here. Thing was going crazy. You probably will need to change your number.”

  Keep it together Melody. Steady. For Mom.

  “Is my mother okay?”

  “Holding on. Best as can be expected. She’s more concerned about you, though.”

  Thank God.

  “Has he been, I mean, have they…formally charged him?”

  “Yes. Tuesday night.”

  Oh, God…no.

  “With?”

  “Capitol murder.”

  Breathe.

  “Bond?”

  “One point five million.”

  My vision blurred for a moment as the gray threatened to overtake me again. I forced the toast and coffee to remain in my stomach and pushed the impending darkness that I wished would swallow me whole out of my mind. There was no way I could ever come up with the bond money. All of our remaining assets were used up in the house renovations. I didn’t own anything worth the one-hundred-fifty thousand dollars it would take to secure a bond, nor did I know anyone who did. The paralegal disappeared at this latest news. The horrified wife emerged.
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  “For the first time in my life, I don’t know what to do next,” I confessed. “I’ve always had a plan. A map of what direction my life would take. High school, college, a job. Marriage. A family. I’ll admit, when reality hit that I would never be a mother, it threw me for a loop. No, it threw me and…Jack, for a loop.” Saying the name of my husband out loud caused some of my bravado and anger to disappear. A lump of hot tears at the mention of his name formed in my throat, but I ignored them.

  “I should have seen it coming. The signs were all there. His mood swings, lack of interest in me, the weight loss. I didn’t help our situation any when I started spending more time at work, especially when the construction started. I was so wrapped up in my own pain, trying to deal with things, I ignored his. He wanted children too, you know.”

  “I know he did,” Regina said, her eyes watching my every move, full of worry and pity. I closed my own to rid myself of her piercing stare.

  Sighing heavily, I continued, “It wasn’t my idea to renovate the house. He wanted to change it. I fought him hard for almost two years after he first broached the subject. God, how we argued! I couldn’t stand the thought of covering over the stencils I had painted years ago. Getting rid of all the baby furniture he had refinished by hand. I wasn’t ready to throw in the towel, so to speak. But the incessant arguing got to me so I finally gave in. He just wouldn’t leave it alone. The first day the workers arrived, I felt…I felt something die inside me and I knew I couldn’t bear to watch them destroy my last tie to motherhood.”

  Regina produced a tissue from her pocket and handed it to me. I dabbed my eyes, wondering how in the world there were any tears left to cry.

  “I was so mad at God. I would have been a good mother and I didn’t understand why He wasn’t answering our prayers to bless us with children. The last visit with Dr. Moore broke my spirit. When he told us that there was nothing else he could try, no miracle medical treatments, and that we should consider other options, like adoption or surrogacy, my faith dried up. So did Jack’s. We haven’t been back to church since.”

  “Mel, are you telling me that you don’t believe in God anymore?” Regina asked, shocked.

  “No, of course not. I just doubt His interest in granting my feeble prayers. So, maybe this…this is punishment for my doubts.”

  “I don’t believe that for one second, Mel. And you shouldn’t either. You know as well as I do that the Lord doesn’t work like that.”

  “Really? Well then please explain to me why my husband of twenty years decided to start playing around with a woman half our age and then…oh, God…and then…Why? Oh, dear Jesus, this isn’t happening.”

  Regina’s arms encircled me as I burst out in tears. For a few seconds, I melted into her embrace. Tried to feed off of the love she exuded to help calm me down. Unfortunately, it didn’t work. I pulled myself from her arms and stood up, my frenzied pacing from the previous two nights back in full swing.

  “What am I supposed to do now, Regina? Huh? How am I supposed to deal with all of this? I don’t even know where to begin! My husband, charged with murder! It’s not like the affair wasn’t enough to overcome, but hey, I could’ve tried. I survived losing my dad. Came to grips with the fact that motherhood wasn’t in the cards for me. Probably could have forgiven Jack once I stopped being so angry at him. But murder? I can’t even wrap my head around it! How will I be able to pay for his defense? I mean, Roger said not to worry about it, but how can I not? We depleted all of our savings on that stupid house!”

  My mouth was moving at the speed of light now, my frantic steps around the swing nearly as fast. I knew I was ranting, but I couldn’t stop the flow.

  “I don’t want to be indebted to my boss forever! And really, who knows how long I will continue to work there? Talk about uncomfortable! Can I just waltz in there and sit at my desk, pecking away on my computer like nothing ever happened? Maybe. But I don’t think the atmosphere at the office will ever be the same. I mean, come on. Serena’s desk was right outside my office! A glaring beacon of my husband’s betrayal and crimes will hit me, and everyone else, in the face each time we walk by it! Can you imagine the things that people will say behind my back? Oh, and what will I say to Mr. Rowland when he comes in to see Roger? I won’t be able to face him.”

  “Honey, sit do—” Regina began, trying to slow my tirade. Like a tidal wave that ignores a seagull in its path, I kept talking without acknowledging her words.

  “Oh, and let’s not forget about the fact that I spent over twenty years of my life with a man suspected of beating a woman to a pulp and then strangling her to death. Murder! I mean, I can’t even fathom those words ever being tied to Jack Dickinson. Can you? What am I supposed to believe? He already admitted to the affair, which I never thought he was capable of, so is it a real stretch to believe he committed murder? I’m forty-three years old, for goodness sake. It’s too late to start all over again. My God, I feel like I’ve stepped into a horror movie or something. This just isn’t happening!”

  Fury raced through me, my nerves burnt to a crisp. I hurled my coffee mug across the lawn and watched with delight as it smashed into pieces. I wanted to hurt something, to transfer my anguish from my body before it destroyed me. Unable to control myself and not satiated from tossing my cup, I scooped up a handful of rocks at the edge of the hill and threw them as hard as I could at the giant tree trunk closest to me.

  “You bastard! How could you have ruined our lives like this?” I screamed. I bent down and grabbed more, grunting as I chunked them down toward the river. “What am I supposed to do now, huh? Why Jack? Why?” Spent, I crumpled to the ground, incapable of stopping the deluge of tears. Regina and Simba were by my side in a flash.

  “Breathe, Mel. Breathe. Shhhh…come on now. You’ve cried enough tears. Time to let the stubborn, never-accept-defeat Mel come back and take control. I don’t know how to handle this mess of the woman I used to know.”

  “She’s gone,” I whimpered into Regina’s sleeve.

  “No, she isn’t,” Regina insisted, pulling my face up to hers. Her brooding eyes commanded my attention. “She’s right here.” She pointed to my chest, her boney index finger making brusque contact with my bare skin. “I’d like to speak with her now, please, because this blubbery mess stymies me.”

  Simba shoved her snout between us and licked my face with her rough tongue. Between the two of them, the heat of anger began to dissipate. Regina was right. I was a fighter. Always had been. My mother once called me a weeping willow because I could bend, yet not break when life’s storms hit. Maybe she was right. This was a hurricane, tornado, tsunami and earthquake all rolled into one, yet I was standing. Leafless, but still anchored to the ground. My roots were deeply embedded in the soil of faith, and I had a strong sense of devotion to my remaining parent.

  “You’re right, as usual. Time to stop the pity party and fix this,” I said, wiping my damp face on the sleeve of her shirt. “Guess I just needed to vent. Exorcise the demons, if you will. Can’t have my mom seeing me like this. Come on, you’ve got some work to do.”

  “Well, first things first. I need a new shirt, then you can start ordering me around. Yeah, you needed an exorcism all right. I was afraid at any minute, green pea soup would start shooting out of your mouth.”

  I scrambled to my feet and held my hand out to Regina, surprised when I noticed I was smiling. Not a huge grin, but a smile nonetheless. Regina was doing her best to force back her own tears, presumably of happiness at seeing me come alive again.

  As we walked back toward the house, Regina asked, “So, what’s on the work agenda for today, boss lady?”

  “I need your cosmetic skills. Can’t go to visit my husband in jail looking like this, can I?”

  Regina almost walked into the door frame. “Come again?”

  “No more hiding under the covers, Regina. I need to talk to Jack. Face to face. I…I need to know. Need to look into his eyes when I as
k the question.”

  Regina eyeballed me, seeming to come to grips with the fact that I wasn’t kidding. That I was stone-cold serious and wouldn’t be deterred. She knew me better than to argue or attempt to change my mind.

  She let out a quiet rush of air, then pointed to the bathroom. “If you want me to make you presentable, please give me a clean slate first.”

  “Fine. But don’t you dare use the time I’m in the shower to call or text Roger. Or my mother. I don’t want anyone to know I’m going into town before I’m ready for them to know.”

  “Mel, there are some things you should—”

  “No. My plate is full enough. One more scoop and it will bust.”

  Regina looked dubious.

  “Look, I promise to tell them both after the visit. I need to stop by the office and pick up my car anyway, so I’ll talk to Roger after I see Jack. Make sure I still have a job and all. But, while I’m at the jail, will you please go pick up my mother and bring her back here? I need to see her.”

  In mock surrender, Regina held up her hands in submission. “Your wish is my command, oh Crazy One.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN - THURSDAY AFTERNOON

  I watched Regina pull out of the parking lot with trepidation. Part of me wanted her by my side as support to face what I knew would be one of the most difficult moments in my life. But the other part couldn’t handle the shame that was surely going to accompany it. That part won out.

  Do you really want to know? What are you going to do when…just run away, idiot. Pack up and run away.

  The sun beat down on me as I walked down the long, concrete walkway that led to the security checkpoint at the Pulaski County Jail. I pushed the tormenting thoughts away and concentrated on my surroundings, putting one foot in front of the other. The red brick exterior of the never ending buildings loomed before me. Beads of sweat and fear trickled down my back and forehead. High temperatures and emotions threatened to undo the stellar makeup and hairdo that Regina had created. I’d barely recognized myself when I looked in the mirror back at the cabin.