by Lisa Sumil
I frowned and rested my head on my desk. Everything was spiraling out of control quickly.
“A nap so soon?”
I jumped in my seat at the sound of my boss’s voice.
“No, sorry. I was just thinking.”
“You look tired Melanie.”
There was no point in lying. I just nodded in defeat and swallowed the lump in my throat. My boss wasn’t the type to want to deal with emotional females and by the way he bounced from foot to foot I could tell he was fast becoming uncomfortable.
“Melanie, why don’t you take the rest of the week off? Rome is going to be a difficult trip and you should spend some time with your family.”
I cringed inwardly but smiled at Charles. “That actually sounds like a good idea.”
Charles Hill stood momentarily, like he wanted to say something else, but abruptly turned and went to his office. I picked up my bag and headed to my car, wanting to send a text to Warren but not sure of what to say. Right now, I needed to figure out what was going on with Zach. Looking at my watch, I realized I had four more hours before I needed to pick up Lillian and take her to her dance class. I knew the night was going to bring a firestorm with Zach, I felt it in my core. But, for now, the only thing that mattered to me was getting home and taking a nap for a few hours. Maybe then I could think a little more clearly.
The volume on the music was all the way up and the windows were down – anything to keep me from falling asleep on the way home. When I pulled up to the house I saw that Zach’s car was still in the driveway. A sudden thought dawned on me. I pulled in behind his car and sat there for a moment.
No, it couldn’t be.
I sat, frozen in time, while thoughts ran through my mind and finally, I decided to call his office. A male receptionist picked up the phone, listing off the last names for the law firm partners. I pictured him sitting at the long counter desk with the five other receptionists that worked the phone lines for the firm that employed over thirty attorneys. How many times in a day did he have to repeat those names? There was one name I hadn’t recognized from the partners. Before I could think about it further I was asking to speak to Zachary Davenport.
His next words sent ice through my veins and I clutched onto the phone desperately. My vision blurred as reality slammed into me like a run-away Mac-truck.
“Mr. Davenport hasn’t returned from his vacation yet,” the receptionist said with boredom. “May I take a message or transfer you to his partner?”
Partner?
A ball in my throat kept me from responding immediately. After the receptionist said hello a third time I finally managed a meek answer. “Who would his partner be?”
“Terry Roice.”
“Yes, please transfer me.”
“May I tell him who is calling?”
I hesitated, “just a client of Mr. Davenport’s. I just had one quick question.”
I heard classic music for a few short seconds before Terry Roice answered the phone. He seemed annoyed, like I had interrupted him. “Yes, Roice here.”
I cleared my throat before speaking. “Mr. Roice?”
“Yes, that’s what I said.”
“You’re Zach’s partner?”
“Who is this?”
I heard the creaking of a chair and imagined him sitting up straighter in his seat.
“Melanie King.”
There was a long pause on the other line and I began to wonder if he would hang up the phone.
“Ms. King, it’s great to finally speak to you. I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a terrible time as I have a client sitting in front of me right now. May I call you back shortly once they leave?”
I knew he wouldn’t call back.
“Mr. Roice, I know there’s no one sitting in front of you right now and I know you’re covering up for Zach. Any lie you tell to me right now will only make the situation worse for my husband.”
I held my breath. I didn’t know if he would call my bluff but this was the only way I could find out what was going on. My gut was telling me one thing, but another part of me — a part that clung onto desperate hope – told me I was jumping to conclusions and assuming the worst.
Time seemed to drag on forever. I heard the creaking of the chair again and guessed he sat back, leaning
“Yes, I’m his partner.”
I breathed again. “Where is my husband?”
I heard him sigh heavily. “Ms. King, I haven’t met you and I’m sorry about that. I can only tell you that your assumptions about your husband, if that’s what this is, are correct.”
My eyes flooded with tears and I pressed my lips together, holding back my cries that became painful in my throat. When I didn’t answer, he continued.
“I really do not want to get any further involved than I just have so I will not answer your question about where he is or who he’s with. I try to stay out of his –“he paused, looking for the right words. “– stay out of his personal matters.”
An attorney through and through.
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “Thank you Mr. Roice,” I whispered and hung up without waiting for his reply. I leaned my head against the steering wheel and saw the tears fall to my lap.
I sat for a few minutes, feeling sorry for myself, wondering when things had gotten so out of control. I felt disconnected when I looked at our home.
“Not our home.” I said out loud to myself. Not our home, I thought. Just a place we slept and took care of our daughter in. Thinking of Lillian brought a new wave of tears.
Relenting, I started my car again and backed out of the driveway. I drove around the block and humorlessly laughed when I parked my car under a Weeping Willow tree. I quickly walked around the corner and up to the house. When I stepped inside I half-expected to see Zach there with his mistress. I opened the living-room window slightly so I could be alerted to the sounds of any cars pulling up and made myself comfortable on our couch. I knew he would come back before it was time to pick up Lillian, otherwise it’d be too risky. Then, that thought made me think twice. What if he didn’t care anymore? He knew I had left in the middle of the night, maybe he even knew I left twice. What if he weren’t even coming back?
I shoved that thought far back into the recesses of my mind. He wouldn’t do that to our daughter. Even though I was exhausted, I didn’t think I’d fall asleep. But when I heard a car pulling up into our drive I shot up on the sofa, glancing at the clock underneath the television. Two hours had passed. I could hear the car idling in the drive and ran to the window peeking through the plantation shutters.
A red jaguar I didn’t recognize was in our drive and my heart drummed in my ears. Trees reflected on the shiny windshield, not letting me see who was inside the car.Discovering a boldness I didn’t know I had, I made a decision. I walked through the front door and down the path in my bare feet. Zach immediately got out of the passenger seat. Instead of having a look of remorse, like I expected – he looked like he only felt sorry for me.
“Melanie,” I didn’t know you were home.
“I bet!” I kept walking to the car and the driver door open. The woman who stepped out looked like she could pass for my sister, which caused me to stop in my tracks. I expected a younger busty bombshell, not someone who looked like a working mom. Her hair color and length were nearly identical to mine. Zach found a mistress who looked like his wife. The expression on her face mirrored Zach’s – pity – which only angered me more.
“Who are you?” I hissed through clenched teeth.
“I’m Marissa, Marissa Ashley,” she said tentatively.
I recognized her name. “You’re the new partner at the firm.”
Zach tilted his head at me and I realized I caught him by surprise, finally.
“Well, not so new. I’ve been there two years,” she said.
It felt like a game of tennis. I didn’t know who Zach was anymore and we kept throwing surprise after surprise at each other.
“Two y
ears?” I whispered.
She didn’t respond.
“How long have you been cheating on me, Zach?” I asked, without wanting to. Marissa averted her gaze from us, seemingly uncomfortable with the exchange. Good.
“Not as long as you have, Melanie.” He narrowed his eyes at me and I felt like I had been punched in the stomach.
I spun on my heels and turned back toward the house, needing to get away from them as quickly as possible. I heard both car doors slam as I stepped through the front door of our suffocating home. But, I didn’t turn back to see if Zach stayed behind. I no longer cared.
“Melanie, stop!”
I stopped in the hallway, with my back to him. I leaned my hand on the wall, no longer trusting myself to stand without assistance. Air was lodged in my throat and I felt like I was choking. I realized then it was sobs rocking my body.
“Melanie,” he said softly this time. Zach stood just behind me. “You didn’t think I’d know when my wife was cheating on me?”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked, feeling betrayed. Even though I knew I had no rights to those feelings.
He didn’t respond and so I turned around. I couldn’t read the expression on his face.
“Why do you think I want us to move?” he asked and I didn’t understand. Not at first.
“What about Marissa?” I asked.
He just shook his head. “Marissa doesn’t mean anything to me. After last night when you and I were together, I thought things were going to go back to the way they were with us.”
My stomach clenched in pain and I thought I would be sick. I realized I was hunched over as he continued to speak, telling me the things I least wanted to hear.
“Then when you left I knew it was more than just an affair for you. You’re in love with him.”
I wanted him to stop speaking, wanted the words to stop and I just shook my head at him. He mistook the action. “Yes, you are Melanie. I know you. You’re my wife.”
He was right.
“I left the light on in the hallway, I wanted you to know. Even then, even when you came back then I had a hope that something else would happen. Still, then, I was going to call Marissa today and break it off. I thought maybe once you knew that your affair was no longer a secret –“
He stopped talking for a few minutes and I looked up at him. He stared at me in disbelief and that hurt me most. How could I have done this to Zach?
“And then you left again,” he said.
I nodded, no longer wanting to lie to him. I felt him brush past me in the hallway and turned to see him walk into our bedroom. My mind whirled, I needed to fix this but didn’t know how. How could I fix something so broken? How could I fix something that I broke? When I found him stuffing clothes into his gym bag I panicked.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“You have to go pick up Lillian right now. When you come back, I won’t be here. I’ll call tonight to say good night to her before she goes to bed.”
“But, where are you going?” Tears freely flowed down my face and I choked on my words.
“I’m going to a hotel. We’ll figure out our arrangements later. Right now I don’t want to see your face.”
The sharp knife I had walked on all day had stabbed me in the heart and the wound bled and pained me.
“I love you Zach, I don’t want you to go.” It was the truth and I knew that it wasn’t enough, but I had to say it.
He just stopped and looked at me. It were as if I slapped him in the face. He just shook his head at me.
“I wish I could tell you I don’t love you anymore,” he said. “But it would be a lie and I’m tired of all the lies.”
I fell back against the closet wall as I watched him leave our room and probably my life forever. I needed to fix this, was all I could think of. I wasn’t sure if it were denial from the loss, but it was something that kept me from falling apart right then and there. I would fix it, I decided.
“I love you,” I whispered, but knew he didn’t hear me. He was already gone.
8
I don’t know how I managed to peel myself off the floor and go to Lillian’s school to pick her up. But when I saw her chubby face a little of my pain had eased. She bounced to me and I wrapped my arms around her tiny body. She gave me a new strength and I realized I needed to make everything right again. The pain she would go through would be my fault and I couldn’t do that to my daughter.
I couldn’t go back home then. I couldn’t face the empty house and the symbol of what it had become. I took Lillian to her favorite pizza place and she played on the jungle-gym for hours. Finally, I knew we had to go. I needed to face the emptiness. I told my daughter on the way home that her father was going to be away for a bit, but that he would call her and say goodnight. Her hair bounced as she nodded. She was completely oblivious to the turmoil unfolding around her.
Shortly before I put her in bed Zach called. I saw his cell on our caller id and immediately handed the phone to her. I was a coward and couldn’t face hearing his voice at that moment. If I did, I would start crying and I couldn’t do that in front of her. I doubted he wanted to speak to me anyway. He never asked to speak to me and I wasn’t surprised.
I lay in bed for nearly an hour as I tried to piece everything together. Finally, I sent Zach a text.
I know it’s too late for you, but I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.
I hoped he would believe me. It was a desperate hope that I knew wasn’t possible. But it was there. Twenty minutes had passed that I stared at my phone with no response. I was about to give up when my phone chimed. When I glimpsed at it new tears fell.
You ok?
It was Warren and my heart ached. I had set the stage and people would get hurt. People I cared about.
I’ve been better. Chat tomorrow.
When I closed my phone I saw that there was another message waiting. I knew it was Warren but I glimpsed at it anyway. I smiled. A little bit of hope had worked.
I know
I wanted to say more to Zach, but didn’t know what. He had opened up a door for us and I didn’t know how to walk through it, how to fix it – or even if I could.
Finally, after another thirty minutes of tossing ideas in my head I knew there was only one thing I could do. I had nothing left to lose and if I wanted Zach back, I needed to get him back so I could keep him. We needed to be who we were always meant to be. It wasn’t his fault that there was a void in my life that he didn’t fill. It was mine. I knew then that he could be that person for me. I sent Zach the text that I should’ve always been sending to him – regardless of how shallow it was.
I need you inside me.
To stay up to date on the release of the next part in the Moonlight mini-series please visit
www.theaccidentalwriter.com
or follow the author on twitter @imTMWilliams
Lisa Sumil is the pseudonym for T.M. Williams - author of the Bohemian Grove trilogy, Undead Winter, and Masochists.
All rights reserved.
Half-Light Publishing
Other books from this author.
Bohemian Grove
What if alien life did not contact us? What if we are alien life?
Meet the Bohemian Grove trilogy.
A woman named Carter discovers that she is of alien descent, an Anunnaki. An alien descent that the Vaticates, protectors of faith and religion, are trying to eradicate.
As Carter finds that she holds the key to connect with her ancestors from the planet Nibiru, the Vaticates are successfully annihilating her alien race, one by one - with their target specifically set on her.
Jack is in the wrong place at the wrong time and ends up tangled up in the chaos and dangers of Carter’s life. As they become drawn to each other Carter meets another who calls to her in ways she can not control. The only question is, is it because of their celestial link? Or because of something more?
Undead Winter
One little
touch. That’s all it takes for the darkness to penetrate. To infect. To destroy.
A plague has incapacitated humanity, spreading across the globe faster than it could ever possibly be contained. Almost overnight the world is awakened to a new reality and the realization that no one is safe, not a single living soul.
As the virus takes control, humanity is brought crashing to its knees. The few left untouched fight frantically for their survival, even as they know their future no longer exists, doing the uninmaginable at the brink of death.
A dark tale that shows exactly how desperate, how dark, humanity can get once the undead winter arrives.
This short story will haunt readers long after the last page has been read. A story you will want to read over and over. A zombie story like no other. A true horror read that will haunt you longer after the last page has been read.
Table of Contents
Copyright
Dedication
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Other books from this author.
