Deeper Illusions

by Jocoby, Annie

  “Oh, please, why would I tell him about you?” Then I walked calmly out the door, and met Daniel, who was coming up the stairs to the porch. “Here you go,” I said, giving my daughter to Daniel calmly. “Thanks for doing this.”

  “Sure, Iris. I’m assuming I’ll get an explanation later?”

  “You assume correctly,” I said gaily. “Actually, my hubby and I just need some alone time, if you know what I mean,” I said, winking.

  He laughed. “Say no more,” he said. To my relief, Dalilah didn’t start screaming anew. She put her chubby arms around his neck, then looked back at me and waved. It’s as if she knows how to behave. I thanked god again that Daniel and Dalilah know one another, as Daniel made his way down the stairs into his car, my daughter in his arms.

  I went back into the house, relieved that she was safe, yet devastated that this might be the last chance to see my daughter in this world.

  Stop thinking like that. You’re going to get out of this.

  Andrew was standing there. Then, when I came in, he jerked me back into the kitchen. Again with the kitchen. What was it with him and kitchens?

  “Sit down,” he said, shoving me into one of the chairs around the breakfast table. “Now, you stupid slut, you’re gonna give me answers. Then I’m gonna kill you.”

  I crossed my arms. “What answers? You gotta ask the questions, first.”

  “Why’d you have to fuck him?”

  “Oh, honey, it had nothing to do with you. I love you, you know that.”

  That was the wrong thing to say. “Shut up, slut!” he screamed, then pistol whipped my face. “Quit lying to me!”

  I was momentarily stunned, then bit my lip hard to try to suppress a scream of pain. “Ok, then. It does have to do with you. We weren’t happy together, you know that,” I said.

  To my surprise, this answer appeared to please him more. “Why couldn’t we go to counseling if you were so unhappy? Why’d you have to fuck somebody else, then take my children from me?” He was now on the verge of tears. “Why’d you do it, Cherry pie? Why?” Then he had his head in his hands, his gun still clutched tightly in one of them.

  I was getting somewhere. This next answer was crucial. What was he looking for? What answers would appease him? I had a little bit of time to think about this next answer, because he was now crying.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “We just grew apart, you and me.”

  “What about the kids?” he asked. “How could just keep them from me? Did they get any of their birthday cards or gifts?”

  Fuck. He was going to want me to call them by name. “Of course, they did,” I said. “I’m not that much of a bitch.”

  “Alan, how’d like the train set?”

  “He loved it, of course. He played with it constantly.”

  He looked sad. Then, in a split second, he was raging again. “You fucking bitch! I should’ve been there to see him open that up!” He brought his gun back up to my head.

  Then I heard voices outside the house. Ryan and Nick. They were kinda loud, so I could hear what they were saying. “I told you, buddy,” Ryan was saying. “God, I dread talking to Iris about this.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Good luck with that. I gotta get going. I’ll call you later, huh?”

  Then Ryan was coming in the door.

  Chapter Sixty

  Ryan came in, saw the two of us, with Andrew’s gun to my head, and he froze. I knew that he also had to leave his weapon at home when he went to the hospital with Alexis and Nick, so he was just as helpless as I was when I came in the door. Ironic, all that training…

  “Who are you?” Andrew asked.

  Ryan was quick on his feet. He was able to cover the panic that he was no doubt feeling, the same feeling that I had when I saw Andrew and Dalilah. “I’m Ryan. What are you doing with Cherry, there?”

  “I’m trying to find out who she was fucking before she left me.”

  “That’s easy,” Ryan said. “I’m the one she was fucking before she left you. And, let me tell you, she was good. The best I ever had, that’s for goddamned sure.”

  I knew what he was trying to do, and I silently prayed it wouldn’t work.

  If Andrew kills him instead of me, I wouldn’t be able to live.

  Ryan continued. “It’s me you want, not her. I was the one who convinced her to leave you. She wanted to stay, but I convinced her to leave. I told her to stop letting you see the kids, too.”

  “You,” Andrew said. “I don’t believe you. You’re way too pretty for my wife. She never liked the pretty boys.”

  “What can I say,” Ryan said in a cocky tone that I had never, ever heard from him. “She made the exception, you know?”

  Andrew looked from me to Ryan, and back again. I shook my head violently. “That’s not the guy. Like you said, I don’t like ‘em pretty like that. I like my men craggy and old. That’s not the guy.”

  “Babe,” Ryan said. “You don’t have to protect me. The secret is out. Now, Andrew, it’s me you want. You just let her go, and you can have me instead. She never would’ve left you if I didn’t talk her into it. If it weren’t for me, she would’ve stayed with you forever.”

  “No,” I told Andrew. “I don’t know this guy, I’ve never seen him in my life. Please believe me. I don’t know him.”

  Andrew continued to look at me, then at Ryan, trying to decide who to believe.

  “Come on, buddy,” Ryan said. “I had to tap that ass. That sweet piece of ass. That’s all she was to me.”

  That’s what finally set Andrew off. “You asshole! Don’t you dare disrespect my wife like that!”

  What happened next went in slow motion, like when I was in a car accident. Andrew let go of me, then I reached into the drawer for a butcher knife, then plunged it into his back.

  However, before I plunged the knife into his back, he shot Ryan.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Somebody was screaming, but I didn’t know who. My beautiful husband was lying on the floor. There was blood. So much blood. I desperately put my hands on his wound, and the screaming sound seemed to come from everywhere around me. There was another body next to me, but I didn’t know who it was. I could only concentrate on my impotent hands, my bright red impotent hands that were desperately trying to stop the bleeding. I could hear an ambulance in the distance, screaming to a stop in front of our house.

  Somebody was prying me off my husband. “Miss, you need to come with me,” the person said. “Miss, please, you need to come with me.”

  “NO, NO, NO,” the screaming voice said. “NO.”

  Then it was like I was floating above the room, watching myself, screaming and crying, being violently pulled off my husband while the ambulance workers loaded him onto a gurney, a bag of blood having been infused into him. Somebody had his arms wrapped around me, and I beat into his chest while I writhed and cried. There were police in the room, too, then a yellow tape was brought out that clearly said the words “crime scene.” I had a blanket wrapped around me by somebody, then I saw myself demanding to be taken in the ambulance with Ryan. Somebody else then escorted me out of the house, and I saw myself getting into a police car.

  Then I was back in my body again. I was in the back of a squad car that was screaming down the street at a mad pace, the blanket still wrapped around me, and a feminine voice soothingly telling me to calm down. “Shhh,” the voice said. “We’re going to join your husband at the hospital. Everything’s going to be ok.”

  No. It wasn’t going to be ok. Nothing would ever be ok again. If my husband was dead, then I would be dead, too.

  Not literally. I had to live for Dalilah.

  But I would be as good as dead.

  Acknowledgments

  To my mother, Dolores, for always believing in me. To Joey, for supporting me through all the craziness. To Debbie, Florence and Carol for giving me courage and confidence. To Nancy for giving me courage, confidence, and some wicked ideas. To my father, Thomas, for giving
me my writing ability. To my sister, Christine, just for being you. I love you all.