Paper-Thin Walls

by Melanie Jones Brownrigg

  “What does Bill do for a living?”

  “He’s a construction worker.”

  My whole face pinched together. I thought for sure she was going to say he was in the military, or some other profession where uniforms had to look pristine.

  “Who does he work for?” Perhaps his attire had to do with a company’s image.

  “Fred’s Sheds. It’s owned by Fred Hunter. He builds small sheds, garages and portable buildings.”

  I’d never heard of Fred’s Sheds, but somehow it didn’t fit my image of businesses requiring stiff dress codes. My consensus of Bill was that he was simply an asshole because, for the life of me, it didn’t make sense for a blue-collar worker to care so greatly about his shirts. From following along with Ryan on a few of his construction projects, I had noticed within only minutes clothing could be coated with filth and grime. If it were during the summer heat, attire was quickly soaked with sweat. Heck, most construction workers either wore tattered T-shirts or went shirtless.

  “Oh, they’re done,” she squeaked when a buzzer went off, instantly jumping and hurrying to the dryer as if one second mattered. Pulling a single shirt out, she placed the remainder on the air cycle. From there, she flew to an ironing board and grabbed up a spray bottle and began spritzing the fabric. The shirt was a simple, pale blue button-up with short sleeves. It didn’t even have a company patch, or “Bill” embroidered on the breast pocket.

  She worked herself to death over the next hour, getting the shirts perfectly starched, pressed and wrinkle-free. It wore me out just watching her. When I pulled my clothing from the dryer, I simply hung them up. It felt like I was cheating for some reason.

  “Kenna, if you ever need anything, I’m right next door. I work during the day, but if you need a place to come to, let me know.”

  She tilted the iron up and stared at me. “My God, you’re the one who called the cops last night, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” I admitted. “I thought you needed help.”

  “Don’t ever do that again,” she snarled. “You’ve only made things worse.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ryan

  One week, Ryan thought as he pushed back the covers from his lonely bed. It had been seven long days since Hailey had left him. He missed her and Adam so much his heart literally ached. Each night when he had FaceTimed with his son, Hailey had avoided showing her beautiful face. He wanted to see her. He wanted to touch her. And more than anything, he wanted to hold her in his arms and make love to her. He had to get her back.

  After showering, dressing and eating a piece of toast – not burnt, because he had finally realized he had bumped the setting dial – he phoned his gorgeous wife. Adam answered, probably because Hailey merely handed him the phone.

  “Hey buddy. How are you doing?”

  “Mama and me did laundry today. It was in a scary dungeon. It was really, really, dark and something ran in front of us, two times, and it made squeaky noises. I was scared, Daddy. And there was a girl there with black and purple colors around her eyes and her lip stuck out. She looked funny.”

  “Is that right? Do you mean like makeup, or like when you fell off your trike and hurt yourself?”

  “Yeah, like when I hurt myself. Also, I’m watching Saturday morning cartoons while Mama puts the sheets back on the bed.”

  “Okay, but not too much TV … remember?”

  “I know, Daddy.”

  “We should do something this afternoon … maybe like putt-putt. Would you like to do something like that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, honey, will you please ask Mommy if she’ll go with us?”

  “Alright. Let me go ask her.”

  Adam climbed down off the couch and padded down the hallway and into his mama’s room. “Daddy says we’re all going to play putt-putt.” He held the phone up in his outstretched hands, watching his mother’s face squish together. It was scary looking.

  His mama waited forever, but finally she took the phone. “Go back to the living room, honey.”

  “Okay.”

  “What’s this about miniature golf?”

  “I thought it would be something fun for the whole family … don’t you think?” Ryan asked.

  A long pause followed, then Hailey said, “I’ll drop Adam off at the house and you two can go. It’ll be good for Adam to see you.”

  Ryan silently growled at Hailey’s resistance. “No, I think it’d be better if Adam saw his mom and dad getting along. Come on Hailey, it’s miniature golf. Surely you can stomach me long enough to put on a show for our son.”

  “I’m not ready to see you, Ryan. I’ll drop Adam off in about an hour.”

  Hailey didn’t stay on the line long enough for Ryan to argue. But at least she was coming by the house. He’d take things slow, one step at a time. Once she got here, he’d use his powers of persuasion and convince her it’d be good for them. And he’d do it when Adam was standing right next to her so she wouldn’t be able to say no.

  An hour later, the doorbell rang. It confused the heck out of him because Hailey had a key, not to mention she was more than welcome in her own home.

  Excitement rushed through him as he hurried to the door. He couldn’t wait to lay eyes on his attractive wife and adorable son.

  “What the…?” The second Ryan pulled the door open his smile vanished, and his heart plummeted. Unexpectedly, he was greeted by Jeff and Jack. Adam was with them, but there wasn’t any sign of Hailey.

  “Hailey went shopping with Sarah,” Jeff explained. “They decided us guys could hang together. Sorry.”

  “Daddy, I’m spending the night with you,” Adam excitedly announced, pointing to his Paw Patrol roll-along. “The only thing in my suitcase is Trumpet because I still got clothes here.”

  Ryan swallowed his frustration and smiled at the trio. Hailey had outsmarted him. But he wasn’t giving up that easily.

  Chapter Twenty

  Hailey

  “He shaved his face,” I told Sarah, having noticed it from his FaceTime call. “He looks amazing.”

  “Just get back with him. You know you want to,” Sarah coaxed, taking a sip of iced tea. We were taking a late afternoon break from shopping to share a plate of nachos.

  My face dropped. “No, he can’t be trusted. I’m not putting up with an unfaithful husband … good looking, or not.” I grimaced, thinking of Kenna and what she had to endure. “I guess it’s better than putting up with a wife-beater, though.”

  “What?” Sarah questioned, noticing the tormented expression on my face.

  “I don’t know. I’m willing to leave Ryan over an indiscretion, and my neighbor is willing to stick with her husband even though he beats her up on a regular basis.”

  Sarah’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “I’m serious. The second night after I moved in, I heard noises coming from next door, followed by sounds of her whimpering. Then, it sounded like the man slapped and punched the woman. The next two nights, they fought over the gas bill and then the grocery bill. But last night, they were so out of control, I ended up calling the police.”

  “My God. What happened?”

  I shrugged. “Nothing. The guy said it was the TV and his wife called from the bedroom to say that everything was perfectly okay.” I frowned. “I ran into her this morning in the laundry room. Her face had been used as a punching bag. Even Adam knew something was wrong.”

  “Did you say anything to her?”

  “Yes, I asked if she was okay and offered to help her. When she found out I was the one who called the cops, she told me I’d made matters worse.”

  After giving Sarah more details about the arguments I’d heard through the walls, she pushed back in the red vinyl booth and sighed. “Let’s go pick up some brochures on abuse and find some local listings for women’s shelters. We need to help her.”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to involve myself any further, but Sarah was the type of person who would pull to the side of
the road and stop traffic to make sure a turtle safely made it to the other side. While I knew Kenna wasn’t a tortoise, from the beating she’d taken, surely, she needed help.

  Sarah used her phone to do a bit of online research. It turned out the information was readily available at the downtown police station. We wrapped things up at the mall and drove across town in Sarah’s two-year-old Nissan. After speaking with Officer Connors about last night’s ordeal, he not only gave us the brochures, but provided us with a list of women’s shelters.

  We pulled up in front of Sarah’s two-story home on Clark Avenue and I transferred my shopping bags into my car.

  “Let me know how it goes,” Sarah said as we parted ways so I could get the material to Kenna before Bill’s workday ended.

  “Sure thing,” I said, closing my door and backing down her driveway. After carrying my shopping bags up to my apartment, mostly filled with much-needed professional clothing for my new job, I worked up my nerve to knock on Kenna’s door.

  “What do you want?” Kenna growled, glaring at me through a chained door only cracked a few inches. “Haven’t you done enough damage already?”

  “Is Bill home yet?” I cautiously asked.

  “No, but he will be soon. You need to leave.”

  “I’ll only be a moment.” She kept the chain on the door and refused to let me inside. Standing in the hallway, I dug into my purse and pulled out the pamphlets. “I picked these up for you. I wanted you to know you have choices. You don’t have to put up with Bill’s temper.”

  “You don’t know anything about me. You need to mind your own business.” She gave me a hateful look. “Take that shit with you,” she snipped, shoving the leaflets back at me as I offered them through the crack in the door. “If Bill discovered that shit, he’d kill me.”

  “Kenna, I’m not trying to interfere or insult you. Please, I’m only trying to help you.”

  “Ha! That’s a laugh. Don’t you dare insult my intelligence. You already interfered when you called the cops. And now you’re coming around here trying to give me marital advice. I don’t think so. Just go!” She took a step backward and slammed the door in my face. “And leave us alone,” she shouted through the closed door.

  With a leaden heart, I trudged back to my apartment, wondering if I’d went about things the wrong way. I genuinely wanted to help her but didn’t know how.

  Within forty-five minutes of leaving Kenna’s apartment, the sound of my neighbors’ door rattled the wall between us. Within seconds, Bill’s voice sent my heart racing.

  “Are you telling me I’ve worked my ass off all day and dinner ain’t on the table? What kind of wife are you?”

  “I cleaned everything today and your shirts are done,” Kenna’s meek voice responded. “Dinner’s in the oven. It’ll only be another ten minutes, or so.”

  “That ain’t how it works. I called you from across town and said I’d be home at seven. Well, here I am. But there ain’t no dinner on the table, is there?”

  In my own little apartment, I placed earbuds in my ears and turned up the music, listening to a collection of Mozart, Beethoven, Bach and Chopin. But even as I tried desperately to distract myself with classical symphonies, I knew Kenna was being belittled, slapped, and beaten.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Hailey

  A micro-thin wall was the only barrier separating my bedroom from Bill and Kenna’s bedroom. Thank goodness Adam’s room was on the opposite side of the hallway, because after two nights of listening to Bill persistently going at Kenna, I felt helpless, anxious, saddened beyond comprehension and sleep deprived. First it was yelling – one-sided by that mouthy asshole – then, he tried to make all things right by telling his wife how much he loved her and how sorry he was from the bottom of his heart. Sorry, I thought that was the right word. His so-called apologies were accompanied with make-up sex, as he thought of it. From my side of the wall, it sounded like a bear ravaging its prey. Grunting and growling, mixed with vulgar language that wasn’t the least bit sexy. Poor Kenna couldn’t possibly be enjoying it, especially considering she must’ve been hurting all over. She silently took it, being the ever-dutiful wife, something equally sickening to me.

  After a long night of listening to fighting and then gross sex from the other side of the wall, Monday morning came far too soon. Having picked Adam up from Ryan’s the night before (with no fuss, thank goodness, having expected to be bombard with reasons why I should forgive him for his indiscretion), the alarm clock told me it was time to get my son ready for preschool.

  “Adam, wake up sleepyhead. Have you gone into hibernation like an old bear?”

  “Five more minutes,” he whined, pulling Trumpet up to his face.

  “Sorry, baby, we need to get a move on.”

  “Okay,” he moaned, pushing back the covers and sliding his little feet to the floor.

  Prior to my getting a job, Adam only attended preschool two days a week, which I thought was good for him. It was important for him to be around kids his own age and to learn how to behave in a structured environment. Kids Ahead also provided learning curriculums for reading, writing and math, basic skills that would help Adam when he began kindergarten. But right now, he was making me feel guilty about going back into the workforce. If I were still a stay-at-home mom, I wouldn’t be dragging him out of bed right now.

  “Do you like going to preschool every day?” I asked Adam while watching him spoon in some oatmeal.

  He looked at me and smiled. “I love it. I just wish I didn’t have to get out of bed.”

  I laughed. “Sorry about that. I like sleeping in, too.” Adam generally only slept another hour each morning. But sometimes that hour could be everything. At least I felt a little better when I dropped him off, handed him his lunchbox and kissed him goodbye.

  Once again, I was the first to arrive at the office. These days, my work was my sanctuary. It was a safe place where I was able to forget about mine and Ryan’s marital problems and where I could block out my neighbors. My position in reimbursements had quickly morphed to include payroll. I didn’t mind it one bit, considering how little time it took to process the recompenses. Besides, staying busy helped to pass the day away.

  “Payroll used to be my girlfriend’s job,” Carter said to me after Ms. Davis officially handed the duty over to me.

  “She doesn’t work here anymore?” I innocently asked.

  “No … Lisa was fired after tapping into Ms. Davis’ computer and deleting a bunch of entries.”

  I frowned, unsure of how I felt about Carter dating someone who did such a devious act. He noted my disapproval.

  “Lisa only did it because of Angela … that’s her friend who was trying to kill Paige … I mean Ms. Davis. There was a real shitstorm that went on here a few months ago.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard a little about that,” I said, thinking back to my initial interview with Ms. Davis wherein she went on and on about several employees who had been fired or were now dead.

  “Lidia’s old position is still open. She used to handle the oil and gas revenues,” James remarked, gesturing toward one of the vacant workstations. “I’ve been handling Penny’s old job ever since she died from eating that poisoned chicken salad sandwich. But I’m not sure if I can keep it up. It’s a ton of work on top of my regular job.”

  I nodded in return, still unable to wrap my head around the employee fiasco of a few months before.

  During my lunchbreak, I went to the deli downstairs and grabbed a sandwich, a measure which had become a part of my daily routine. Taking it back up to the office breakroom, I began munching away, thinking about the available position. Sarah had hinted several times about getting back into the daily grind, so I gave her a call.

  “Do you think I have a shot?” she squeaked. “Now that Jack’s in preschool every day, I’d love to find a job.” As soon as Adam started preschool every day, Sarah had done the same with Jack. I wondered if she was afraid Adam might advance faster
than Jack. She wasn’t about to allow for the possibility. On the other hand, Adam and Jack loved being together during the day.

  Four hours later, Sarah had joined the workforce, dealing with oil and gas revenues. It excited me to no end because we could team up on dropping the boys off at preschool if one of us happened to be running late. And since she lived only three or four miles away from my apartment, we could rideshare into work if we needed to. Plus, it gave us more time to gossip.

  “Did you give your neighbor the brochures?” Sarah asked during our afternoon break.

  “She wouldn’t take them. She said if Bill found them, he’d kill her. She shoved them back at me and told me to leave them alone. Then she slammed the door on me. He beat her up Saturday night, then yelled at her most of Sunday evening, and then he made gross-sounding love to her last night.” I made a sour face, the reminder turning my stomach.

  “How awful,” Sarah said, bunching up her facial expression. “At least you tried.”

  “He was coming out of his apartment this morning as I was leaving for work. He’s only about five-nine in height, but he’s bulky … lots of muscles,” I stressed, thinking how defenseless skinny little Kenna was against him. “He was parked beside me. When he opened the door to his truck, I saw a set of dumbbells in the passenger floorboard.”

  “He’s probably working out on weights,” she reasoned. “You know, he might be bulking himself up with steroids,” Sarah suggested after a thoughtful pause. “That stuff is like a drug. It makes people feel powerful. But at the same time, it increases irritability, anxiety and aggression. If he’s using high doses, he could suffer from volatile mood swings, even to the point of manic episodes and paranoia. I know this because Roderick – that’s Kathy’s husband, you know my cousin – anyway, he was doing steroids and he got angry at Kathy one afternoon and shoved her down a set of stairs. She had to go to the hospital because he broke her arm. It was all because of steroids.”