RICHARD: Listen. Can you please stop acting like you’re the victim? I’m the victim. I’m sure your father will agree …
My father … Anger flares, causing my tears to stream from my eyes and drip down my cheeks. What’s wrong with him?
I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself, before I respond once more.
ME: You’re not a victim, Richard. If you’d just wait for the papers from my lawyer, you’d see I’m being more than reasonable.
His response comes quickly this time, my phone chiming seconds after I send the message.
RICHARD: Yeah, I’m sure you’re being reasonable.
And then it pings again.
RICHARD: If you think you’re going to screw me, I’ll make sure you leave with nothing.
I stare at the message.
And stare.
And then I stare some more.
I want to tell him off. I want to call him names and scream, but I don’t.
I can’t.
I just don’t have the energy for it.
Turning my phone to vibrate, I set it back down on the nightstand and climb out of bed, my legs wobbly. Geez, why am I letting that asshole get to me like this? I sniffle once and scrub at my face, wiping any trace of my tears away, and then I head to the bathroom, closing the door behind me.
I shower and shave and stress, the goddamn messages making me edgy. Maybe I’m crazy, but I was hoping—praying—that for once, Richard might be reasonable. I stay under the hot spray until my fingers and toes wrinkle, and then I get out and slather on lotion, making every inch of my body smell like vanilla bean. As I head back into my bedroom, hair and body wrapped in towels, I hear my phone vibrating against the oak nightstand.
Hesitating, I eye it for a beat before curiosity gets the best of me once again and I walk to it, glancing at the call display.
Joshua.
I answer it hesitantly, practicing smiling as I wait to accept the call, though it feels forced, anger and heartache still pulsing through my system. When the call finally clicks through, his voice greets me immediately. “Hey, gorgeous. Is everything okay?”
“Hey. Yeah, everything’s good.”
“I’ve been calling for twenty minutes. Where were you?”
There’s a hint of concern in his voice, and a touch of bitterness that makes my stomach twist. My eyes fall down to the towel wrapped around me. “Um, I was in the shower,” I say. “Sorry about that. I turned my phone on vibrate and didn’t hear it ringing.”
“Why’s your phone on vibrate?” he asks.
My stomach is in knots. I don’t want to tell him about the messages, not even a little, but I know I have to. Sighing, I mutter quietly, “Well, Richard knows I saw a lawyer yesterday.”
He’s silent for a moment. “Oh, yeah. I thought he was in Hawaii. How’d he find out already?”
“He said he has someone watching me. He started texting me this morning and they were pretty nasty so I turned off my ringer.”
“Oh, baby, don’t let him get to you,” he says. “Give him a bit of time and when he calms down, tell him to talk to your lawyer. There’s no reason for you to respond. Just let him calm down, baby. Everything’s going to be okay. I promise.”
I hesitate and my head starts throbbing, a dull ache right between the eyes as my anger reawakens, flowing through my body. “I did respond,” I confess. “I told him that I was being reasonable and he could speak to my lawyer, and he said I’m trying to screw him, that he’s a victim and my father would agree. How the hell am I trying to screw him? He’s the one that’s threatening to ruin my business. I don’t get it. What have I done to screw him?”
“Baby,” he says, and then sighs. “I don’t think you’ve done anything. You’ve been perfectly honest. You told him you were writing me, you told him you were visiting me. You never lied to him, you never cheated on him, and if you’re worried about him contacting your parents, maybe you should just get it over with and tell them first.”
His words strike me hard. I never really doubted it, never really thought I was doing anything wrong, but … “Do you really believe that? Do you really believe I haven’t done anything wrong?”
“Oh, baby girl, yes, I do believe it,” he confirms, his tone gentle, but it’s suddenly a hard pill to swallow.
“Even though I was still living with him when I met you?”
“Victoria, you’re an amazing woman and you did nothing wrong,” his says firmly. “It was over between you two when we started writing. We fell in love, so why wouldn’t we want to be together? I love you and I want you in my life.”
I close my eyes, flinching at his words. “We’ve only spent ten hours together, face to face.”
“They were the best ten hours of my life.”
****
Two hours later, I’m back at my house. It’s too quiet and my head is too loud. There’s so many things I need to do, but I’m at a standstill, waiting for Richard to calm down. Waiting for my lawyer to finish the agreement.
The ball’s out of my court.
I hate that I don’t have any power.
I should be packing, but I’m not. I lay back on my bed, too stressed to do much more than just lie here. My bed smells like laundry detergent, the sheets freshly washed. Richard must have washed them after screwing his new toy here. His messages won’t leave my mind, his threats mingling in, replaying over and over, like a bad song stuck on repeat.
Sighing, I try to push him from my head and pick up my phone, scrolling through the contacts. Joshua’s right. I need to call my parents before Dick does.
I make it down to their number, my finger hesitating above it. I have no idea what I’m going to say or what I’m going to do, but I do know my parents, and news like this is best done publicly. Glancing at the time, I see that it’s eleven-thirty in the morning. Lunch. I can take them out for lunch.
It takes less than thirty seconds to convince my mom to meet me for lunch. My dad takes a little over a minute, but he agrees, and forty minutes later, I’m sitting at a table at Avanti’s sipping on some water waiting for them to arrive.
A bell over the door chimes when they step inside, Mom two steps ahead of Dad. I stand up, waving her over, and when she spots me, her face splits with a smile.
“Victoria!” My mother rushes over, nearly sprinting for me. She wraps her arms around me as Dad comes up behind her, shaking his head.
“Hey, Mom,” I say, hugging her back before wiggling out of her arms and wrapping mine around Dad. “Hey, Dad.”
“I hope you haven’t been waiting long?” Dad asks, hugging me back before he takes a seat. “Your mother was dawdling.”
“No worries,” I say, smiling. “I only just got here myself.”
Dad nods, his bright blue eyes regarding me curiously. “So what’s this all about?”
“Can’t I just want to have lunch with my parents?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says, a small smirk curving his lips. “But if it were just lunch, we’d be sitting at my table while your mother made club sandwiches, not at a restaurant.”
“Oh, George, give her a break,” Mom says, cutting me an apologetic smile. “Enjoy yourself, will you? It’s not very often we get to spend time with our little girl.”
The waitress appears, asking what we would like to drink, and we place our orders, the entire time I’m acutely aware of Dad’s probing gaze.
My stomach clenches as my brain works, trying to find the right way to start the conversation, but I’m pretty sure there’s no right way to tell your parents that you’re leaving your asshole husband and have fallen in love with a convicted murderer.
Right, there’s no good way to do this.
Just get it over with, Vic.
Oh God, I want to puke.
Picking up my menu, I hide behind it, my voice barely a whisper when I say, “There’s something I need to tell you guys. I screwed up and I don’t want any of your judgment, so just listen to me and let me get it all out
before you say anything.”
Dad laughs. “I haven’t heard you say that since you were sixteen.”
“This isn’t funny, Dad,” I say, cutting him a look. “I really screwed up, and I don’t know how to handle it.”
And then, I launch into my story. I tell them about Richard, about how he’s treated me since we married and what it’s done to me. I tell them about Joshua, filling them in on the letters and the phone calls and visits. And I tell them all about Richard’s threats and his affair, explaining that he’s taken her to the Hawaii house and that Becca and I have been packing up all my things, barely pausing when the waitress returns with our drinks.
“Victoria,” Mom says, reaching for my hand as Dad shoos the waitress away, asking her to give us a moment. “Sweetie, are you okay? You’re looking a little green.”
I force a quick shake of my head. “No. No, I’m really not okay. Richard and I are splitting up and he’s being an asshole about it.”
Dad’s smile disappears and he leans back, cocking his head to the side. “I’m not surprised. I never liked that little bastard.”
Dad’s remark startles a laugh out of me and Mom cuts him a dirty look. “George.”
He shrugs. “Don’t give me that look, Susanne. I’m just telling it how it is.” Then, he focuses his gaze on me. “Have you found a lawyer yet?”
“Yes,” I answer. “Rachel Lane from Matheson and Associates. She’s working on a separation agreement now.” I stall for a moment, eyeing them both. “I want to settle it quickly. The only thing I’m asking for is that he leaves my business alone.”
“Don’t short change yourself,” Dad says. “You never know what could happen in the future, sweetie. You are entitled to half of everything.”
I sigh. I knew Dad wouldn’t just accept that part. “I know, but so is he. According to the lawyer, the courts will look at my potential earnings and could very well award him a share of my business, too. But the truth is, I don’t want anything from him. I just want to be done and I don’t want the reminders.”
Both my parents are silent for a moment, both looking slightly shell-shocked and a little angry. I scan my menu and sip my water, all the while, wishing I had ordered a glass of wine (or two).
On the positive side, at least they’re focused on Richard being a dick, rather than Joshua.
“Tell me more about this Joshua character,” Mom says, eventually. “How long have you been in love with him?”
Or maybe they’re not.
I let out a sharp laugh. “I’m in love with him?”
“Sweetheart.” Mom makes a tsk sound. “Your eyes light up when you talk about him.”
My eyes meet hers and she smiles a smile only a mother could. It’s open and reassuring. It’s the kind of smile that says everything’s going to be all right and we love you, all wrapped together.
“We’ve been writing for four months now,” I say hesitantly. “He tells me I’m beautiful every day, Mom. Every single day. He says that one day I’ll see myself like he sees me. It’s his mission.”
Doubt nags at my chest as I say the words, tightening my throat.
It hurts.
Oh God, it hurts too fucking much.
The wounds that Richard inflicted on me run deep, an emotional scar left on my soul.
Tears sting my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. He doesn’t deserve any more of my tears, but I’m quivering, my body trembling from head to toe as I try to hold them in.
“Victoria, take a breath,” Dad says, his voice stern, as he wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling me into him.
I suck in a breath, then let it out, only to suck in another. “Sorry, it’s just getting to be too much.”
“Well,” Dad says. “Clearly, it’s over between you and Richard. I’ll deal with him, honey. The threats will end. I promise you that.”
“Dad …”
“The point, honey,” Mom says, cutting off my protest, “is that you see that it’s over, and now you can move forward from here.”
Dad nods. “As for this Joshua character—” he stalls, taking a deep breath. “Look, sweetheart, I’m not going to tell you how to live your life. If this is what you want, I’ll support you, but be careful.”
I let his words hang in the air for a moment, deciding that he’s right. I need to be careful. “He wants me to move out there and I like the idea. I think, maybe for a few months, I could go and try it out. See how it goes.”
“I think you should take a vacation,” Mom says. “Go out there and spend some time with this man for a week or two. See how it goes before you decide to move there.”
“Really?”
“Really,” Dad surprisingly agrees. “I think it’ll be good for you. Get away from all of this and give Richard some time to come to his senses.”
I’m flabbergasted, glancing between them, certain I heard them wrong. But they’re both smiling, both seemingly happy about this, and they genuinely look like they want me to go.
Parents, they say, know best, so who am I to argue?
“You know what,” I say, smiling a watery smile. “I think I’ll do that.”
18
Road Trip
“Hey, what’s good, sweetness?”
“Um, everything, I think.”
My response makes Joshua laugh. “You only think?”
Sixty minutes ago, I finished packing my suitcases.
Thirty minutes ago, the movers loaded all my boxes and took them to Becca’s place.
Twenty minutes ago, I approved the separation agreement and told my lawyer to send it to Richard.
Ten minutes ago, I booked my hotel.
Now, here I am, sitting on my bed, stressing a little that Joshua might not think this is such a hot idea.
So what’s good? Everything, I think.
“Um, well, it’s been an interesting day. I’m still at my house, but the movers just left with the last of my things. They’re meeting Becca at her place, and …” I hesitate, chewing on my bottom lip. “I … went to lunch with my parents.”
“Good,” he says, and he sounds like he means it. “I can’t tell you how fucking glad I am that your shit is out of that place. How’d it go with your parents?”
“Surprisingly well. I told them about you.”
“Oh yeah? What’d you tell them?”
I laugh. “I told them that I have a pen-pal who’s in prison that I care for a lot.”
“Really?” he asks. “You told them I’m in prison?”
“Yeah,” I say, smiling at his surprise. “You were right. I needed to talk to them before Dick does.”
“That’s a big step,” he says seriously.
“Yeah,” I agree, and then shrug it off as I flop back onto the bed. “But I figure coming clean was the only way to make Richard’s threats meaningless, but my dad wasn’t too happy about it all.”
“Okay,” he says, then stalls, silence filling the line.
When he doesn’t say anything else, I eventually say, “So, yeah, then I told them about Richard.”
“And what’d you say?”
“That we’re splitting up. I told them about all his threats and the affair. I told them about how he’s been treating me since we got together. I told them everything.”
More silence.
“And what did they have to say about it all?”
“Well,” I pause, smiling to myself. “I’m kind of glad that Richard’s in Hawaii. My dad looked like he wanted to go kill him.”
Joshua chuckles. “Yeah, I can imagine. I figured he’d be upset for all the nasty things Richard said and did to you.”
“He was furious,” I tell him. “He wanted to call him but I begged him not to. I don’t need the headache that it would cause right now.”
“Okay,” he says. “Okay, well, what did they have to say about me? I’m kind of curious.”
There’s a hint of anxiety in his voice, a touch of fear, that has my leg bouncing, my nerves on hyper-alert. He’
s not the one who’s supposed to be nervous. He’s supposed to be the rock, strong and solid, nothing fazing him.
“Um, I don’t really know how they feel about you to be honest,” I say quietly. “They were both trying to be very open-minded and patient. They just want me to be happy.” I stall for a moment, taking in a deep breath. “Um, I told them that I’m thinking about moving to Pennsylvania for a few months, just to sort of try it, live by you for a bit and see how it goes, and my mom suggested that I take a little road trip and come out for a week or two. Try it out and see what happens. You know, just while I’m working on the whole separation thing.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Seriously.”
“That’s fucking amazing,” he says. “Are you going to come?”
His words instantly relax me. This is easy. Far easier than I thought it was going to be. The truth is, I thought he might have an issue with me staying out there for a bit. “Do you want me to come?”
“Baby girl,” he says, laughing. “Are you really asking me that? Of course I want you to come. I always want to see you. And it might be a good vacation for you, too. Get some time away from Richard.”
“Yeah,” I agree, glancing at my bags all packed and lined up by the bedroom door. “I’m kind of excited about it.”
“I bet,” he says. “You could relax or work, and we’d be able to see each other more often. And you know …” he hesitates, clearing his throat. “If it’d make your parents feel better, I’d be happy to talk to them or even visit with them one day.”
I laugh once, surprised. “Really?”
“Oh, definitely.”
My mouth opens and closes a few times as I try to find a suitable response, but I’m not sure there is one. Although my parents took everything in stride today, they weren’t overly happy about my choices.
“Maybe one day,” I murmur back, my voice gentle and apologetic. “I don’t think they’re ready for that yet.”
“Okay, there’s no pressure. I completely understand. But you know, whenever they’re ready, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” He pauses. “So when are you coming?”
If I Could Do It Again Page 14
