Kim shook her head. “That’s awful, Rick. I’m so sorry.”
He shrugged and snuggled closer. “It’s history now. He really is dead, good riddance, and I’ve moved on.” He nudged her with his chin. “So what’s your secret?”
The moment of truth. Here was her chance to unburden herself. Could she really do it? Could she finally lay down the weight she’d been hauling for the last seven years?
She took a breath, let it out, tried again and couldn’t. Rick chuckled. “C’mon, it can’t be as bad as mine. I tried to kill someone.”
She felt the rising of the pressure in her veins, the thumping of her heart that seemed to shake the bed. “Yes. But I actually did.”
NINE
Kim was running out of excuses. She was also running out of shirts.
The last two weeks with Rick had been about as blissful as an orphan could ever hope for. He let her rearrange the furniture and even replace a few of his oddball items, making the apartment feel more pulled together and less like a bachelor pad. They fell into a rhythm of cooking and cleaning and errand-running. And it turned out to be very nice to wake up next to someone—almost as nice as it was to go to sleep next to him.
Yet Kim had cut herself more in those two weeks than she had since starting the practice. There was a new fear she didn’t know how to handle: the fear of losing the best thing she’d ever had. It compounded the guilt she still carried, even after the confession of her secret. In fact, the guilt was worse with the passing of every heartbreakingly wonderful day she had with Rick. She couldn’t win.
So she cut. Her arms were a mess of lines. Fresh red, fading pink, healing white, covered in unseasonably long sleeves. Her wardrobe began to draw comments. She complained a lot about air-conditioning.
The girls at Club were easy to fool. They knew she came straight from the salon, so she told them the manager had the A/C jacked up high so she was always cold. Most of the girls at the salon said nothing, though she could tell Emma was suspicious. “Girl, it’s gonna be ninety today,” she said at the end of the first week Kim had spent with Rick. “Aren’t you hot?”
Kim shrugged, making it a point to look her in the eyes for at least a moment. “Rick is so hot-blooded, the apartment is always freezing. I dress for how it feels in there, and then I forget to change clothes before I come to work. The heat feels good, actually—I finally get to thaw!”
The second week she was more difficult to put off. “Kim, I sweat just looking at you. What’s the deal?”
“I told you, Emma, Rick keeps the apartment really cold.”
“Yeah, well, we don’t keep things cold here—and I’ve seen you break a sweat more than once this week. At least keep some light-weight stuff at your station or something.”
Kim scrambled for a reply but found nothing. Emma pounced on her silence. “Kim, I’m getting a weird vibe from you lately. Is everything alright?”
This time Kim didn’t have to force the eye contact. “It is, Emma. It’s…it’s amazing. Everything about him, about living with him…I never thought I’d have something like this.”
Emma smiled, though Kim could tell it was guarded. “I’m happy for you, Kim. Just—” she shrugged. “I don’t know. Just tell me if anything is wrong, okay?”
“Thanks, Emma.”
Emma gave her a squeeze before returning to her station and Kim scurried back to hers before she broke down in tears. The stress of hiding her cuts became one more reason to do it.
It only took a few weeks for the honeymoon to end. One weekend toward the end of June, Rick was invited to join some of his co-workers for a poker game. He claimed to have been a card shark in high school, and as he left the apartment he promised Kim a treat with his winnings. “You’re pretty confident for someone who hasn’t played in a few years.” she’d said.
He shrugged as he pocketed his wallet and headed for the door. “I used to be nearly impossible to beat. There’s a lot of strategy; most people don’t know that. You don’t just play your cards; you play the other players. The guys I’m playing tonight don’t know what they’re doing. I can almost guarantee it.”
She was just getting ready for bed a few hours later when a slammed door announced his return. Kim called out, “How’d you do?” and heard the refrigerator door open and shut with a bang, but no response to her question. She went to the kitchen where he was opening a beer. “So? How did it go?”
He threw a bottle cap into the trash, his head down. “I lost.”
“Aw, baby, I’m sorry.” She went to him and kissed his cheek. “Don’t be too sad, sweetheart; it’s just a game.”
“I got nothing. The cards were rigged, I swear.” He took a long swig of his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes were stormy.
“S’okay love.” Kim kissed his cheek, then wagged a finger playfully. “It was karma. That’s what you get for being overconfident. But if you don’t win next time, I’ll have to find someone else who knows when to hold ’em and when to—”
His hand moved so fast she had no time to react. The sting of the slap across her face made her gasp. Tears sprang to her eyes and her hand flew to her cheek as she stared at him in shock.
He looked as stunned as she did. They stood still, eyes locked on each other, until he set down his beer and pulled her into a tight embrace. “Kim, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” His voice cracked. She had no words, her mind was a tangle of shock and fear. “Kim, please forgive me. Do you forgive me? I can’t believe—Kim, I’m so sorry.” He gave her one final squeeze, then stood back, still holding her by the shoulders. “I always swore I’d never hurt the people I love. But the thought of you leaving me—it freaked me out.” His voice shook as he spoke. “Do you forgive me? Please forgive me, Kim.”
She swallowed hard, forcing the lump from her throat, and croaked out a response. “Yes. Of course I forgive you.”
He wrapped her in his arms again, then gently kissed her throbbing cheek. “Let me get a cool washcloth for your face.” She allowed him to lead her to the bedroom and set her on the bed, then watched as he went about ministering to the fallout of his anger. After a few minutes of applying the cold cloth to her face, he pulled back the sheets and tucked her into bed. “Unless you want me to come to bed right now, I’m going to just go and unwind for a little bit in the living room. Is that alright?”
“Sure, that’s fine.”
“Okay.” He planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “I love you, Kim. Again—I’m so sorry.”
She gave him a small smile and reached out to hold his hand. “It’s okay, Rick. I forgive you.”
He smiled and kissed her again, then left the room, shutting the door behind him as he left.
KIM WATCHED THE CLOCK FLIP to midnight. Rick had snuck in half an hour earlier, slipping into bed and keeping close to his edge of the bed. Kim faked sleeping until she heard his light snore, then flipped her pillow and huddled deeper under the sheet despite the warmth of the evening.
Her face had stopped stinging soon after he’d slapped her, but her mind had raced relentlessly. She’d given him everything she had to give. Her secret. Her virginity. Her independence. Her trust. He owned her now, and until tonight she hadn’t minded.
But now…
She sighed and rolled onto her stomach, pulling the pillow over her head and squishing it around her ears. She didn’t want to overreact. This relationship was the most precious thing she had. It was worth taking her time to assess the situation and its ramifications.
In a sense, the situation was straightforward: Rick had hit her. Well, hit was maybe a bit of an exaggeration. He’d slapped her. Certainly it had been spontaneous—he hadn’t come home with the intent of taking his frustration out on her.
And in his defense, she had provoked him. It had been cruel of her to suggest, even as a joke—perhaps especially as a joke—that she would leave him for someone else, particularly when his pride was so wounded from his loss. How would she have felt if h
e’d insinuated such a thing to her?
And she had to remember the years he had been abused by his father. An experience like that wasn’t easily left behind. It was a miracle he had turned out as normal as he had.
She sighed and rolled to her side, staring at the ring on her hand. She should have kept her mouth shut. She had only herself to blame.
THE NEXT MORNING RICK WAS gone before she awoke. She took her time readying for work, lingering over a bowl of cereal and sorting in vain through her clothes for a new outfit that would hide her cuts but not look as unseasonable. She was dismayed to see a faint purple spot on her cheekbone when she finally shuffled into the bathroom for her shower. Well, that’s what makeup is for.
Kim felt heavy and gloomy, like a cartoon with a rain cloud above her head. She sat under the shower’s spray for too long as she let her thoughts wander, then had to rush to get to the salon. She made a mad dash to her station to ready it before her first client and barely got it all done in time. Helen Toll entered just as she finished preparing her combs, and Kim walked her to the station as the elderly woman launched into a story about her granddaughter and the new boy she was dating. Mrs. Toll was just the client she needed to start with today. She demanded little from Kim besides nods and clucks of sympathy and the occasional “Oh my goodness, really?” It gave her time to compose herself and clear her mind.
“…so I told her she should just tell that boy exactly what she thought. It’s never too late to be honest, but it’s more difficult the longer you wait.”
Kim’s attention snapped back to her client. “Yes—yes, that’s good advice. Very true.” She stole a glance at her face in the mirror to make sure the heat in her cheeks wasn’t visible. She could still see the faint dark spot beneath her makeup. “So what did she say?”
Mrs. Toll sighed. “Oh, I think she just humored me. It makes me sad, it really does. She’s such a precious girl. I don’t want to see her mired in a relationship where she can’t be herself.” She sighed and smiled at Kim in the mirror. “But no one listens to us old biddies.” She chuckled. “I think she thinks men hadn’t figured out how to be conniving back when I was her age!”
Kim laughed along with her, though her heart wasn’t in it. She continued to set the curlers in Helen’s wiry silver hair and gently nudged the conversation into more comfortable waters.
Mrs. Toll related another story while Kim finished setting the rollers and walked her to the dryers. After setting her beneath the dryer’s helmet, she cleaned her station and went up to the front to wait for her next client.
Bette smiled. “My, aren’t we all dolled up.”
“Am I?” Kim tried to look surprised.
Bette squinted at her. “Seems like, anyway. Normally you do your makeup so lightly you can barely tell you’ve got any on. What’s the occasion?”
Kim waved her hand as she glanced down at the appointment book. “There isn’t one. I must have overdone it. I didn’t get to bed until late last night, and the shadows under my eyes this morning refused to be tamed.” She pointed to the book. “My next is in ten minutes, right?”
Bette double-checked the book. “Yep.”
“Okay, I’m going to run next door. I’ll be right back.”
“Next door” was a mini-mart where the stylists often grabbed a midday snack or coffee. Kim rarely went there, wanting instead to hang out with her friends between their appointments. But she didn’t feel like she could sit at her station like she usually did, and she didn’t feel like socializing with the other girls, especially if Bette had noticed the extra makeup today.
She strolled the aisles, stopping only in the limited office supply section where her eyes snagged an X-acto knife. Her arms began to tingle just seeing that silver blade. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? She could have left Corrie’s paring knife where it belonged.
She slipped one off the hanging display and took it to the front to pay. She took her change and walked back to the salon, her mind not at all on her client but on her purchase and when she could break it in. She could feel the itch in her soul that preceded a cutting session. It inflamed the anger towards both Rick and herself that had been simmering since last night. She had clients all morning—how would she make it until afternoon?
She was combing through her client’s wet hair when Bette came by. “Phone message for you.” She handed her a pink slip of paper, then began to chat with her client, a friend of hers. Kim glanced at it and the itch began to burn.
Rick called. Wants to take you to lunch. Call to confirm.
Bette looked at Kim. “I can call him back for you if you want. I know you’re booked solid until lunch.”
“Thanks Bette. Yeah, I’d appreciate that. I’m open at one; tell him he can stop by then.”
“Will do.”
It was a long three hours. She had to fight to keep her concentration on what she was doing. She left Mrs. Toll under the dryer too long, though the sweet woman didn’t even notice or seem to mind when Kim gushed her apologies. She mixed the wrong combination of colors for a client’s highlights, thankfully catching it at the last minute. She was a jangle of nerves by the time her last client before lunch left. The image of the blade in her purse loomed large in her mind’s eye.
She pulled off her apron and draped it over the back of the chair, then grabbed her purse and went out to the sidewalk to wait for Rick. He was just crossing the parking lot when she came out, and for the first time the sight of him didn’t send a shiver of happiness through her.
He smiled and placed a kiss on her unblemished cheek. “Hey babe.”
She stared at him, confused. She’d been expecting a sheepish greeting, a little less spring in his step. “Hey.”
“You’re ready to go?”
“Um, sure. Where to?”
“You can pick, I don’t really care.”
She suggested the first place that came to mind. “I don’t know. Maybe Salsa?”
He nodded. “Sounds good.” He took her hand and began to chat as though there was no giant elephant balanced between them. She only half listened as he recounted some workplace drama. Her mind was preoccupied with recalling the details of the night before to assure herself they had actually happened. By his demeanor one would think it had been just a dream. Her free hand slipped up to her cheek to check the bruise, to make sure it hurt.
She was actually surprised when it did.
Maybe I’m wrong for thinking he should still be penitent. After all, he had apologized—many times, in fact. Was it really necessary for him to apologize again? If their roles had been reversed, she’d probably be mad that he was still holding on to his anger and expecting more groveling twelve hours later.
Just let it go. Don’t dwell on it.
By the time they reached the restaurant Kim had managed to at least pretend she was glad they were having lunch. Honestly, she didn’t want to talk to him right now, but she felt guilty for feeling that way and was careful to make sure he didn’t know it. The waitress took their menus and refreshed their drinks, but once they were alone Kim focused her attention on the chips and salsa to keep herself from looking irritated. It was taking more energy than she had to mask her annoyance.
“Kim.”
She looked at Rick, schooling her features to remain neutral.
He leaned in, reaching for her with his gaze. “Kim, I just wanted to apologize again.”
She sagged slightly in her seat, relieved that he hadn’t developed some kind of selective amnesia. “Thank you, Rick. And I forgive you, again.” She smiled a little, but Rick’s face beamed.
He reached down into his pocket and pulled out a small, flat box. “I got you a little something.” He slid the box across the table, and Kim couldn’t help grinning. “If you don’t like them we can take them back and get something else. But I thought they’d match your ring nicely.”
She took off the lid and gasped. A pair of solitaire diamond earrings sat on black velvet. “Oh my goodness.�
�� She pulled out the card and held them up in the light. “Oh, Rick, they’re beautiful.”
“You like them?”
“Oh, yes. They’re perfect. Simple but lovely.” She pulled them from the card and put them on. “Do they look okay?”
“Gorgeous.”
She sighed. “I’m sorry, too, Rick. I shouldn’t have said what I said. If our roles had been reversed I would have gotten mad too.”
Rick came to her chair and kissed her. “Forget it, sweetheart. This is all behind us now, right?”
“Right.”
“Good.” He sat back down and reached for her hands across the table. “What do you say we start planning that wedding?”
TEN
Today will be the day, right God?
It was the same prayer Joshua had said each morning for the last two weeks. He was bound to be right eventually. At least, he hoped so.
He’d sent in his resume weeks ago, but still had not heard from the woman he’d served at the deli. He was grateful for his job, but Lori was pressing him to join their staff as a permanent member, and he knew it wasn’t where he wanted to be long-term. But if not here, then where? No one else was calling for interviews, no other jobs were falling into his lap. Meanwhile they were living on a shoestring and still waiting for the house to sell. The person who had made an offer changed his mind, and two open houses later they still had no new offers.
Joshua pulled into the lot behind the deli and parked. Before going in, he closed his eyes and prayed for Scott, who was showing the house to someone that morning. Please God, please let it sell soon. And then show me where to move!
The Weight of Shadows Page 10
