I suck in a breath and hold the note close to my chest, wishing I had more of him than this silly little piece of paper. I wonder why he chooses only to pen things down instead of talking to me. Maybe he isn’t comfortable talking about this … thing we’re doing, whatever it is. And for some reason, I want to reply.
So I open the drawer and take out a pen and a notebook. Tearing out a piece of paper, I start writing.
I wish you’d stayed. Is that such a bad thing to want? Even when it’s wrong?
I don’t care anymore.
If this is how you want to communicate, then so be it.
Do you want me to write back? Is this how you like it?
I don’t care if it’s weird … I’ll do it if it means you’ll come back.
I just wonder why you like to write so much … is it a hobby or a job?
Can’t wait to read your answer.
I put the pen down and grab some tape, biting a piece off so I can stick my note to the window. I don’t care if it’s in full view of everyone else. No one except him comes there anyway, and I know he’ll be back to watch me. It’s only a matter of time.
I put everything away and quickly put on a pair of sweatpants and a casual white shirt so I can have my morning cup of coffee and walk out to grab my newspaper.
But a sudden ringing phone makes me jolt up in shock. I run to the living room and pick it up.
There’s nothing but silence.
“Hello?”
No response.
“Who is this?” I ask, sweat prickling the back of my neck.
A thud and beeping follow.
I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at it for a few seconds.
What the heck?
Frowning, I put it down, grab my laptop, and sit behind my desk. I open a browser and immediately type in the number shown on the caller screen.
The number that appears makes my stomach roil.
It belongs to Greg.
Why did he call?
And why didn’t he say anything?
Is he checking up on me? Or is he genuinely stalking me too?
An eerie shiver runs up and down my spine.
I feel on edge.
A loud banging on the front door makes me squeal.
“Hyun? Open the goddamn door!”
My heart practically pounds out of my chest.
It’s him. Greg.
He’s here.
How does he know where I live? I never gave him my address.
Oh god, what do I do?
“I know you’re in there!” He rams the door so hard it almost unhinges.
“I know you’re sleeping with someone,” he scoffs.
At that moment, it feels like my heart stopped.
How does he know? He couldn’t have seen? Unless … Drake is working with him.
“You fucking whore! You think you can fuck around without me noticing?” he screams, still jerking the door handle.
I quickly rush to grab my gun and point it at the door, my hands shaking.
“LET. ME. IN!” His voice booms so hard, it feels like it goes straight through my chest.
I can’t breathe … I can’t breathe …
He’s here … he can’t be here …
I have to get away from him.
So I do the only thing I know how. I turn around, go to the back door, drop my gun and run.
***
3 months before
I place the bowl of lettuce and peas on the table as quietly as I possibly can, trying not to disturb the conversation Greg and his friend Mr. Reed are having. He and his wife are visiting for a business talk and to meet me. Greg was all too happy to show off my butt to Mr. Reed, slapping me in his presence to humiliate me.
I’ve grown accustomed to it.
My husband laughs and drinks wine while I get to pretend-play the housewife and perfect cook.
However, a chair standing in a place I’m not used to makes me stumble, and I drop a plate filled with potatoes on the floor.
“Fuck!” Greg yells as I shoot down to the floor to pick up the broken pieces of plate.
“Look at what you did!” he screams.
“I’m sorry,” I say, looking up at his angry face. I hate apologizing. I hate that he does this to me, but words help me not get hurt … and I will use them to save myself if I must.
“Sorry doesn’t unbreak the plate. Sorry doesn’t give us the potatoes back!” He kicks one away, exactly the one I was about to pick up.
Suddenly, he grabs my wrist, pulling me up … and it hurts.
“Ow …”
“You think this is a game?” he spits in my face.
“No …” I hiss. “You’re hurting me.”
“Greg,” Reed says, distracting him momentarily. “It’s only potatoes. I don’t like them anyway. Let’s just let her clean it up and enjoy our dinner.”
Greg snorts and grimaces at me. “I’ll be lenient—this time. You’d better be grateful.”
When he releases me, my blood rushes to my wrist, and I feel the mark he left searing into my skin.
I quickly grab the potatoes that are still on the floor, rush to the kitchen, and dump them in the trash. Before I go back inside, I wipe away the single tear running down my cheek and grab a glass of water, chugging it down in one go. Then I straighten my dress and go back inside.
Everyone looks at me, but I ignore them, and soon, they return to their normal chatter.
When I sit down to eat our meal together, they all raise their glasses and toast to the good food and to a great evening. Greg skips my glass, but I don’t care.
I sit in silence and watch them talk, smiling whenever Greg mentions how much he likes my body to try to keep up the appearance that I’m okay with everything he does and says.
Of course, I’m not okay.
The constant bombardment of attacks and swear words get to me. Words like whore, bitch, useless brat, pig, slant-eyed, monkey … you name it, and he’s said it straight to my face. And worst of all … the more he uses them, the more I’m starting to believe them too.
I don’t want to. No one does. But when you live in an environment like this twenty-four-seven, you’re bound to succumb to it. I’m no exception, and it makes me feel weak.
Sulking, I stare at my wine glass and ponder whether I should just kill myself to be free of this. To be free of him.
But then I see her staring at me.
The woman Reed brought with him.
Annushka, his wife.
We engage in a stare that neither of us seems to be able to look away from.
There’s a reason, and we both know why.
The entire evening, I’ve seen her avoiding her husband, not talking to him, not even looking at him or acknowledging him. The way she looks and acts, stiffly, out of this world, like she’s somewhere else with her mind … I recognize it.
I act the same way when I’m around Greg.
“She’s a really good housewife, don’t you think?” Greg boasts about me to Mr. Reed. “Nice and quiet. I’m so glad I invested my money in her.”
They laugh a little as if it’s the most normal thing on earth.
“Well, Annushka isn’t so bad either. She’s fucking amazing in bed.”
Annushka’s cheeks redden, and she drowns herself in her wine.
Greg eats his steak like a slob, spilling the juices all over his shirt. “Oh yeah, how much did you pay for her? Can’t be much, I mean, she doesn’t look like she’d do the dishes and clean your house.”
“A lot, and trust me when I say she’ll do anything I say.” Reed folds his arms as if it’s something to be proud of.
I almost gag on my veggies, and I swallow them down with some water and then some wine to ease my mental images.
I look at Annushka and give her a faint smile, one that says “I’m here with you; I know what you’re going through.” I don’t know if she g
ets it. I don’t know why I do it. But a brief smile back is all I need to know that I’m not alone. She’s not alone. And as long as we realize this isn’t normal, and that someday, we’re going to escape … we’ll make it.
And at this moment, I decide I’m not going to give up my life that easily.
Greg can take my home. My money. My body. My dignity.
But he’ll never take my heart and soul.
Only I can give that away.
14.
Accompanying Song: “Logos” by Ludovico Einaudi
Hyun
Now
I park my car far away from the building and grab my cell phone, calling Annushka’s number. “Hey, it’s me. Are you alone?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“I’m standing in front of your building. Mind if I come up?”
Mr. Reed is a lot less strict than Greg is when it comes to giving Annushka privileges. She can go where she wants, as long as she tells him beforehand, and she can even invite people to the house.
“Uh, sure … Are you okay?” she asks.
“No, not really,” I mutter as I walk in and go to the elevator, pressing the button to her floor. “But I’ll be right there.”
I turn off the phone and tuck it into my pocket while waiting for the elevator to finally reach the floor she lives on. I know exactly where to go because she told me where she lives. We’ve been in contact with each other ever since that dinner with the four of us. In secret, of course. We send each other emails and talk on the phone for short amounts of time when our husbands were away. We talk about them and how difficult our lives are. She helped me get through those painful months.
And even now, when I don’t know where else to go to feel safe, I go to her.
Even when she’s married to another monster.
As I approach her door, I’m about to knock, but she opens it before I do.
She grabs my arms and checks around the corner. “No one followed you?”
“No.”
“Good.” She bats her fake eyelashes as she stares me down. “Then get in.”
She pulls me inside and slams the door shut behind me. “Sorry, I have to be careful,” she says as she takes my coat.
“I understand,” I reply. Mr. Reed doesn’t like unwanted visitors. Only friends he can trust. And I’m not sure which category I belong to now.
She walks to her kitchen and puts on coffee. “Want some coffee?”
“Yes, please,” I say.
She chuckles. “You don’t have to be so cordial to me, you know. You can say ‘yeah.’ Or something. I don’t know.” She shrugs.
“Thanks, I’ll remember that,” I say, smiling. She smiles back and puts some coffee in the pot.
“Go on. Sit down. There’s plenty of space.” She points at the couch and the chairs near the fireplace.
I was still admiring her home because it’s so damn huge. I’ve never visited here, but now that I have, I understand why Greg always seemed to want to boast to Mr. Reed about something. It wasn’t because he was so proud. It was because he was trying to one-up him.
Greg is jealous of Mr. Reed’s wealth.
I smirk as I sit down on a velvety red chair, sinking all the way down, which looks ridiculous. Before Annusha returns with the coffee, I quickly push myself up and try to sit as natural as possible.
“So how are you doing?” she asks as she puts down the cups.
“Thanks,” I say, picking up the cup. “Not so good.”
She sits down next to me and casually folds her legs on the chair, almost sitting in a cross-legged position. “What happened?”
“Greg … he was banging on my door, screaming at me.” Annushka knows I moved into a new home away from him. I hold the cup close to my chest to let the warmth flow into me. “He found out … I was …”
“What?” She lowers her head.
“Nothing.” I shake my head and sigh, trying to wave it off as a silly thought, but she’s not falling for it. Damn. I shouldn’t have opened my mouth. It sounds insane when I think about it.
“Tell me what he found out, Hyun,” she says.
“I can’t.”
She grabs my hand and squeezes. “You’re shaking.”
I pull my hand away and look down at the swirling coffee in my cup.
“You know you can talk to me, right?” she says, leaning over to grab a pack of cigarettes off the table. She takes one out and holds it out to me. “Here.”
“Oh no, I don’t smoke,” I say, putting my coffee down.
“Try it.” She keeps waving it at me, so I take it. “It’ll make you feel better.”
She fishes a lighter out of her pocket and raises a brow at me. “C’mon …”
I sigh and put it in my mouth, after which she lights it.
She throws the lighter on the table and says, “Take a drag. It’ll feel shitty at first, but then you’ll feel a lot better. Trust me.”
When I do, the smoke burns my throat, and I cough.
She laughs. “Told you it’ll feel shitty. Just take a few more. You’ll be relaxed in no time.”
“Is that what you do to cope with Reed?” I ask, putting the cigarette in the ashtray.
Her face turns sour immediately.
“Reed and I don’t talk a lot,” she replies, toying with a loose strand of her silky white hair. “I like it better that way.”
She and I both know much more goes on behind closed doors. Things we don’t tell anyone because it’s hard to talk about. And if she does want to share … I’m always there for her like she is here for me.
“So tell me why you came here,” she says, clearing her throat. “You wanna talk, so let’s talk.” She places a hand on my leg. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t bite.” She grins.
I smile awkwardly. “Well, I feel like someone’s trying to kill me.”
She frowns and then bursts out into laughter. “Sorry. It’s just that it’s nothing new to me.”
“Oh.” I look away for a second, trying to imagine what it must be like for her living with Mr. Reed. Probably just as bad as it was when I was still with Greg.
“What makes you think someone wants to murder you?” She supports her head with the palm of her hand as she leans against the chair.
“Well, a few days ago, someone shot at me.”
“Oh my god. Really?”
“Yeah, and then today, Greg showed up at my door screaming that I’m a whore.”
“Oh, boy.” She makes a face.
I smash my lips together. “He was pounding my door so hard I bolted. I couldn’t stay there, knowing he could burst in at any moment, so I left through the back door. I only barely made it to my car before Greg came after me. He even jerked the door handle and slammed the windows with his fist. I was terrified.” I look at my own shaking hands, wishing for it to stop. “My mind was blank when I hit the gas. I didn’t know where else to go. I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be sorry.” She pulls me in for a hug and pets my back. “Oh, honey … I’m so sorry for you. You did the right thing by coming here.”
“I’m putting you in danger. What if Greg finds me here?”
“How’s he gonna get inside?” she muses, pushing herself away from me so she can look me in the eye. “Over my dead body.” She smiles. “Chin up, girl. You got away from him once; you can do it again.”
“Will it ever stop?”
She narrows her eyes. “Only you can make that happen.”
I swallow away the lump in my throat and nod.
She grabs the cigarette again and stuffs it in my mouth. “Take a drag. You’ll feel better.”
I do what she says, and this time, she’s right. It does take the edge off things.
“See?” She smiles.
“I feel much better now that I’m here. I always feel so alone in my home.”
“Hmmm … even with your lover there?”
My eyes widen. �
�What did you say?”
“Oh, honey.” She grabs her cup of coffee and takes a sip. “You didn’t think I didn’t know about your secret lover, did you?”
“How—”
“Our husbands talk with each other, you know,” she says. “He’s all over our floor on a weekly basis, now that you’re gone from his life.” She rolls her eyes. “I wish he’d crawl back into that stinking hole he came out of. I’d kill him myself if it wasn’t for—”
“Your husband. They’re friends … and friends tell each other everything,” I mumble, still in shock.
“Exactly,” she muses.
I suck in a breath and get up from the velvety chair. “I have to go.”
Her brows furrow. “Already?”
“I can’t.” I stumble my way to the door. “I’m sorry. We’ll talk later, okay?”
“Hyun,” she says, but I don’t really listen anymore. “Be careful.”
All I hear are the voices in my head, telling me how stupid I’ve been.
Talking to Annushka. Telling her all my dirty secrets.
Not even realizing that she’s married to Greg’s best friend, and he probably demands that she tell him everything I tell her. Just like he tells Greg whatever I told her.
Like where I was going to live … what I’m doing and where I’m going every day … that I wanted to kill him.
Greg knows everything.
15.
Accompanying Song: “Hungry like The Wolf” by Snow Hill
Hyun
I almost drive through a red light.
That’s how agitated I am.
I’m stuck in my head, wondering if I shouldn’t have made such a rash decision, leaving her house without even telling her why. Without even saying a proper thank you and goodbye.
I don’t like to be that person. But I don’t trust anyone anymore, and when I feel threatened, my first instinct is to run.
I hate it, but I have no other choice. Fear makes you do that.
Dirty Wife Games Page 9
