Summer Fire
Page 49
My breathing is erratic, and my heart is almost beating out of my chest just because of that vision inside my head. I saw him; that man, his conniving eyes, and that devilish smirk on his face.
“I saw him,” I repeat, voicing the thoughts going on in my head.
“Who? What are you talking about?” The doctor keeps me down on the bed. “Mrs. Starr, you have to lie down or your stitches will spring.”
“Stitches?” I ask.
“Yes, you were hurt quite badly from the crash.”
“Crash?” I keep repeating his words because I don’t understand. I can’t think of anything else but those eyes … those eyes haunt me.
The doctor sighs. “Please lie down, Mrs. Starr, and try to get some rest. You’re still healing, and you need all the energy you can muster.”
“But I have to tell them …” I mumble, my eyes still droopy. I can’t keep them open.
“Tell who what?”
My mouth opens, but my vocal cords won’t budge. I can’t say it, and I’ve already forgotten half of what I was going to say. Why is my head so cloudy?
“Just go to sleep. We’ll talk some more when you wake up,” he says, smiling. “Rest assured, we will do our very best to care for you.”
“Thank you,” I croak, not even remembering what he just said.
I still feel so sleepy. So drowsy …
It doesn’t take long before I black out again.
*
When I wake up again, there is someone at my bed.
Arthur, Phillip’s younger and certainly more attractive brother. They look very much alike, except Arthur kept all the charming bits that his brother, Phillip, lost over the years. That, and he clearly takes better care of his physique.
For a moment, I wonder why he’s here. Although, we’ve always had a strong bond and it would make sense for him to come to my side in the hospital. I wouldn’t have expected him to be the first to visit. Even after all these years, his devotion to me is untouched.
His eyes are glossy the moment he sees me look at him.
“Hi,” I say, giving him a tiny smile.
“Vanessa, you’re awake,” he says. “How are you feeling?”
“Better … I think.”
He smiles, but it’s no genuine smile. Frowning, he drops his head. “Did the doctors tell you anything?”
“No?” I ask. As I sit up, it hurts my body, but I manage to do it without the help he offers. “What should they have told me?”
“Do you remember what happened to you?” he asks.
“A little …” My brain crunches. “I was in an accident, wasn’t I?”
“Yes,” Arthur says, running his fingers through his hair. “You’re lucky you’re still alive.”
I swallow away the lump in my throat, not knowing how to respond to that. I don’t want to imagine escaping death by an inch, but I do. Memories flash through my head—the party, having a drink, and then leaving with the car … the highway … the car tumbling around, spinning through the air. Phillip.
“Where’s Phillip?” I quickly ask, holding my breath.
Arthur mulls around as if he’s afraid to speak the words. He fumbles with his shirt and licks his lips. “He … he didn’t make it.”
My jaw drops, my lips shuddering. My body shakes, and it feels like even my bones are trembling. “He’s … dead …” I mumble, unsure how in the hell it all happened. I can’t believe it … and yet, it did. Phillip is dead. My husband is dead.
Oh, my god.
I gaze at Arthur who immediately grabs my hand and holds it, gently caressing it. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” I stammer. “He’s your brother.”
“He is—was, yes, but he was your husband.”
“I can’t believe he’s actually dead. He’s really gone?”
“Yes. They were too late to … get him out of the burning car.”
My lips part, but nothing comes out. I have difficulty coming to terms with what happened, but also with my own emotions because honestly … I don’t feel anything. It’s all blank.
It’s quiet for some time. I guess neither of us knows what to say. Nothing can be said that can make this any better to deal with, and I know that he feels the same way.
“It’s going to be okay,” he says.
He comes closer and opens his arms. I gently slide into his arms, letting him wrap them around me. His hug makes me sigh as I rest my head on his shoulder and look at the clock ticking on the wall. The time has stopped, but only for us, not for the outside world.
“I don’t know what to say,” I mumble. It’s the truth.
All I can think about is the burning corpse inside that car.
The images make my heart lose control. I never expected Phillip to die that way.
“You don’t have to say anything. It’s okay if you want to cry,” he says. “You have my shoulder.” His warm hand comforts me and makes me feel safe.
“Thank you …” I say. “I just don’t know if I want to cry.”
“Take your time,” he says. “I’m here for you.”
He leans back and looks at me, smiling gently. Deeply seated affection fills his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay here every day if you need me.” He places his hand on my cheek and caresses it. It feels genuine but so wrong at the same time.
“But what about you?” I grab his hand. “He’s your brother. You need someone just as much.”
“I can handle it,” he says. “Don’t worry about me. Worry about your own health.” He leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead. “You should get some rest.”
When he gets up, I reach for his wrist. “Don’t go.”
He looks back. “I don’t want to be here if your parents come. It wouldn’t be … right.” The way he says it confirms my suspicions, and it flatters me, even though it shouldn’t.
We’ve always connected on a level Phillip and I couldn’t, which is why this feels so bad … but I need it more than anything in the world right now.
Phillip isn’t here. I have no one else to keep me company. I need Arthur as much as he needs me right now.
“Stay with me,” I say. “I don’t mind.”
“But your parents—”
“Let them talk,” I interrupt. “I don’t care.”
I smile at him, and I can see him changing his mind.
So he sits down beside me in his chair and holds my hand, while we exchange tender, compassionate looks.
Hard times call for desperate measures.
And we’re both in desperate need of consolation. In whatever way necessary.
Chapter Three
Vanessa
A few days later …
When the doctor comes to my bed, I’m already wide awake. I demanded his presence because I’m tired of being forced to stay in this bed. I lift my gown like always and show him the scar on my hip, which healed quite nicely with the stitches, and the cuts on my arms and belly have almost disappeared. I’m so lucky my face was spared. Just a few bruises here and there and a swollen lip, but nothing too bad.
I’ve not yet looked in the mirror. All the things I know, the female nurses have told me. The men … well, they don’t prove to be of much use. All they say is how healthy I look compared to the day before. Some even call me pretty. I think they’re just interested in buying the meat that just got onto the market.
Tsk. As if I’d ever allow that to happen.
I like my men like I like my wine; powerful and overtaking. Of course, flirting and casual sex are great, but nothing that involves more than a one-time kind of thing. Besides, it’s not like that’s going to work, with me being in a hospital. I have other things on my mind right now, like my dead husband, for example.
To flirt with a guy now wouldn’t be … kosher.
“Looking good, Mrs. Starr,” the doctor says.
“Oh, call me Vanessa already. Let’s drop the pretenses.” I chuckle to lighten my words.
He nods. �
��Your wounds have healed quite nicely; I’d say you’ll be out of here in a couple of days.”
“A couple of days? But it’s already been a couple of days. I feel fine.”
“I’d prefer not to take the risk, so just to be sure, I won’t discharge you yet.”
I frown, sighing out loud when a man walks in who makes my eyes widen.
“Father?”
“Vanessa,” he says as he comes closer and hugs me tight then lets me go again.
“Oh, darling, your father and I were so worried about you. We couldn’t get here any sooner, but I was so worried about you. Give your mother a hug.” My mom busts in, pushes my father aside, and wraps her arms around my neck, almost choking me.
“I’m fine, Mother.”
“No, you’re not, and don’t you dare say that! You were in a car accident. You should be glad you’re alive.”
“I am,” I say. “But I’m one of the more fortunate ones.”
“Poor Phillip,” she says, and then she sighs. “It wasn’t his time yet.”
“I find the accident quite unusual, however,” my father says. “I never expected something like that to happen.”
“Me neither. Phillip is normally a great driver.” I lie to keep up the image my parents had of him. It comes easily to me. Besides, I don’t want to come across as foolish for stepping into the car with him, knowing he was that intoxicated.
“Well, there must’ve been something wrong. Aren’t they investigating it?” my mother asks. She looks directly at the doctor, as if he would know.
“Yes, I believe so,” I say.
“The police have actually requested to speak with you, Mrs. Starr.”
“They have?” my mother says.
The doctor clears his throat. “I told them that you weren’t well enough yet.”
“I am now,” I say. “Do they know anything?” I’m getting anxious already.
“Yes, I would like to speak with them as well,” my mother says.
“Mother!” I make a face at her. “I can handle this myself.”
“Nonsense. You’re not fit enough.”
“Oh, darling. Let her decide on her own,” my father says, sighing. “Let’s just go grab a cup of coffee.”
My father drags her away from my bed, but she sputters, “Coffee? From this place? I wouldn’t dare touch that gunk!”
And then they disappear through the door.
The doctor nods at me and smiles. “Not easy, huh?”
“Ugh, they bore me to death,” I say. “So overprotective and not in a good way.”
“They seem to care a lot about you,” he muses.
“No. That’s just charades. We’ve learned to play well,” I retort.
The doctor frowns. I don’t think he gets it. Nobody does. That’s why our family works the way it does, why it’s so successful; we are perfect liars. We shroud ourselves in an aura of compassion, love, and tenderness while plotting to kill the people around us with our bare hands. Well, maybe not literally, although I could never know. My parents are, after all, the perfect liars, even to me.
They don’t love me.
They just pretend they do.
Love is just a word thrown around to make us look good, but underneath the surface, it rots.
My parents raised me in such an environment where looks, appearance, and attitude were all that mattered, and real emotions were better kept hidden. They didn’t serve the grand purpose; the quest for power.
That’s what it’s always been about. No matter what the subject was, whether it was getting the highest grades in high school, being at the top of the class in college, landing the best job, or marrying the richest man in town … it was always about achieving the very best. Simple satisfaction wasn’t worth it, and my parents wouldn’t accept anything less than perfection.
Money and power. Those are the only things that matter to them.
I am just a tool for them to acquire more power. How? With my marriage to Phillip, who they adored so much. Not because of his looks or intellect. No, because of his influence in the movie business. That, and his money, of course, which my father spends on his campaigns. Their perfect daughter married one of the biggest directors in Hollywood. Well, isn’t that just perfect?
I crumple up the sheets covering my body and take a deep breath.
Even when everything seems perfect, life isn’t always a fairy tale.
“Well …” the doctor murmurs, interrupting my flow of thought.
“Yes?” I ask.
Someone knocks on the door. It’s the police.
“Is it all right?” they ask the doctor.
The doctor throws me a glance and then looks at them over his shoulder. “I believe so, yes.” He smiles at me. “I will see you again later, Mrs. Starr.”
“It’s Vanessa, for next time.” I throw him a wink, which makes him smile even more. Charming.
The police step in and nod at me. “Glad to see you’re well, Mrs. Starr.”
“Thank you,” I say. “It’s been quite the ordeal.”
“Our condolences for your loss; it must’ve been terrible to wake up with that news.”
I nod, unsure how to answer.
One of the officers clears his throat and grabs a notebook. “If you’re okay with that, we’d like to ask you some questions.”
“What for, if I may ask?”
“We just want to know what happened. Can you tell us what you remember?”
I dig into the back of my mind. Bits and pieces have come back, mostly from the party, but I don’t remember everything from the actual accident. Except that Phillip was feeling ill when we drove back home, and then suddenly, I was lying on the asphalt, injured. And those eyes … those dark, soulless eyes. They bore into me like death.
“Ma’am?”
“Huh?” I shake my head. “Sorry, I was a bit lost in my thoughts.”
“No worries. We’d just like to know if you saw anything weird. Did your husband act strangely?”
“Well, he did have a nasty cough at the party,” I say.
“Anything else?”
“Why are you asking?” I ask.
“We want to know every bit of detail so we can piece this together. Did you catch your husband talking about something odd or to someone you don’t know?”
Ah, my husband and his infamous charm. I guess everyone knows. No point in hiding it then. He did have a thing for the ladies, and it wasn’t just talking. Oh no, I wish it was just talking that I caught him doing.
*
Hours before the party
When you come home from dinner with a friend, you don’t expect to find your husband in bed. Not at four in the afternoon with another woman.
I watch them through the small opening in the door. They haven’t noticed me yet. I wonder if they ever will because they’re so enraptured with each other. The way he fucks her, no-holds-barred, facing each other, shows an intimacy that even we don’t have.
Phillip rarely fucked me, and when he did, it was always from behind. It wasn’t for love. It was always just sex. Mostly for his pleasure. I just went along with it. Gotta please the husband so he’s happy. At least, that’s what they tell you when you marry someone. Make them happy. I think it only works if it goes both ways.
Luckily, those days are long gone.
I take off my necklace and place it on the small cabinet in the hallway. I’ve seen her before, that whore he brought in. She stepped into his car the other day after he left home. I saw it through the window. My husband thinks I don’t know, but I’m not blind. It’s good that he believes that, though. Easier to keep the fakery up.
My earrings go next as I hear her scream and moan out loud like the whore she is. I don’t know her name. They come and go like cheap wine swallowed by that swine of a husband. I ponder if I should clear my throat and walk in at the moment he blows his load. Just the look on his face and the ruined orgasm would be worth the price I’d have to pay. Although, tonight wouldn�
�t be a good night to taunt him. A big, red bruise on my face wouldn’t look good at the party. Imagine what people would say.
Besides, it’s not like anything I do will make him stop cheating. His sexual appetite is different from mine, and I will never be able to please him the way he desires. Nor can he please me. I like my men rough, demanding, and emotional with a strong imagination. Phillip likes his girls the way he likes directing a movie; quick, to the point, and without fuss or difficulty. I’m the opposite of what I just described. We were never a match made in heaven. However, when I agreed to marry him, I didn’t think I’d be witnessing my husband loving other women more than me.
What girl in their right mind would have said yes to that?
Exactly. But I did.
Some would spur me on to divorce him. As if it was that simple. When you come from a family like mine, there is more to a marriage than love. There is an obligation. Money. Power. Deals. Agreements. Signed papers. Lawsuits. Lies.
Even death.
If I fail to uphold the vow, the world wouldn’t be a small enough of a place to hide. Not from him or my parents. Not everything is as simple as it seems. There is no black and white. There are many shades of gray, and my shade is the kind that stopped believing in fairy tales, stopped living her life, and stopped breathing entirely.
Instead, I’m just a mold of the perfect wife, who ignores her husband’s cheating and forgives him for bringing a whore into their home.
This home. My home. My perfect home.
It is a beautiful home, though.
I smile, sighing to myself. So happy together, living a perfect lie.
Then I turn and tiptoe down the stairs without making a sound.
We’re expected at the party in a few hours. Better make sure I look prim and proper. Time for my pedicure.
*
Present
I frown, thinking about all the things I could tell them … or not. “Well, if you consider touching someone’s ass weird behavior, then yes, he might have been acting strange.”
The police officers are quiet for a moment, their lips parted, and their brows furrowed. “Uh, okay. Can you tell us who it was he was flirting with?”
“Her name’s Cordelia. They work together.” I look straight into the eyes of the officer who’s so privy to my private life. “My husband likes to cheat. He does it all the time.”