The Other Guy: A Textdoor Neighbor Romance

by Van Wyk, Jennifer

  “Vince…” I whisper hoarsely.

  “You can’t even speak? What’s wrong with you? I don’t know what I ever saw in you. You were just a warm hole, and now look. I’m stuck with you.” His lip curls as he looks at me as if I repulse him. “I don’t know what I did in a previous life to deserve such a useless wife.”

  Tears spring to my eyes, but not from his hateful words. From the pain of biting my tongue to hold back what I want to say. He always acts like I’m so lucky to have him.

  “Are you crying? Seriously, Carly. Grow up.” When I stay silent, keeping my eyes locked on his, his grip on my arm tightens to the point of pain. “Answer me, dammit! What the hell is wrong with you? Did you become a mute while I was working my ass off today just to support this family? Lord knows you barely contribute. Teacher’s salary,” he scoffs and shakes his head in disgust.

  I met Vince in college. While I was studying to become a teacher. I had no idea why it was such a point of loathing for him now, when he knew that was what I was going to do for a career before he married me. I used to think I knew Vince. Turns out, when the person I thought I had all figured out is actually living a lie, it’s pretty hard to know what his next step is going to be.

  I blink and glance away from him. With his free hand, he grabs my neck and cups my jaw. If he’s trying to get my attention, it’s working. I gasp, but it’s cut off by the tight grip he has on my neck. I bring my hand up to move his arm away, out of pure instinct, but it only causes his grip to tighten further.

  I’d never seen such hate in his eyes before. The weak part of me briefly wonders what occurred in the office today for him to be in such an awful mood. The strong part of me knows that it doesn’t matter what happened in his day. There is no rhyme or reason to his anger toward me. But if he keeps it centered on me and away from Jack, I will take it on forever.

  I still have barely spoken, trying not to engage him and make his anger flare up even further. I have learned over time what makes these moments worse.

  “You,” he spits, the smell of whiskey strong, causing my stomach to churn. “I don’t know what I ever saw in you. Nothing you do is right. Maybe I should just take Jack and find him a new mom. He’d be better off without you. We both would.”

  I narrow my eyes on him as the hold on my neck loosens just slightly. “Yeah, I think that’s what I’ll do. Even one of my whores would be a better mom to him than you,” he says with such pride and arrogance, like it would hurt me to hear that he’d slept with other people while he was married to me. As if I didn’t already know, or assume, anyway. It is the reason why I insist he continues to use condoms. I told him my doctor didn’t want me on the pill anymore because it messed up my hormones too much and in a shocking moment of caring, he said it was fine.

  I don’t know where the strength comes from, or why I choose this moment. Probably from the threat of losing Jack. Because I will do anything… anything… to keep him safe. He is the only good in my life.

  “Over my dead body,” I said with as much power as my voice would carry.

  “That would be a blessing,” he says with a smile that makes my stomach churn. He’s never spoken to me with this much hatred before. Shock isn’t a strong enough word for what I am feeling in this moment.

  Instead of hitting the mark he obviously aimed for, having me cower and succumb to his words and tuck my tail, it’s like someone switched a light inside my head, opening my eyes and making me realize this doesn’t have to be my life. I can change my life course. I can stand against someone who gets his rocks off belittling another human being. I can demand something better for myself and my son.

  I still have fight left in me. I just didn’t realize it until he pushed that final button. I am like a sail that was once falling limp against its mast, and suddenly a gust of wind blows into me, spreading my wings and giving me the strength I need to move forward.

  I reach up, grab his hand that is still wrapped around my neck, and push him off me before he realizes I am not going to let him win this round. I yank my other arm free of his and spit in his face. “You bastard. You think you’re some big man? You want Jack to treat his wife like this someday? You think this is the way a man acts? You’re nothing but a coward.”

  He looks stunned for a moment. Whether it is because I spat at him or I was finally finding my voice, I don’t know. But it allows me a moment to take one more step away. Too bad it isn’t far enough.

  “You bitch!” he shouts at me, and before I can process what is about to happen, he backhands me with such force my head jerks sideways, and I see stars. The pain radiates through my head and down my arms.

  When I turn my head to face him once more, the anger I had seen in his eyes earlier that I didn’t think could be matched is only burning hotter.

  “See what you made me do?! You know, I didn’t think you could be more pathetic than you already were, but now you’re proving me wrong!” he shouts in my face.

  My heart pounds, my head throbbing in pain, but the fear that I feel down to my bones in this moment was something I have never experienced. Not even when my mom picked me up from school when I was fifteen years old, completely wasted. I pleaded with her to let me drive us home, but she kept driving as if she didn’t even hear me. I almost kissed the garage floor when she pulled us in safely.

  But the rage I see in Vince petrifies me, not only for my own safety. Because when I move my eyes from his face just slightly, what I see makes my heart stop and bile rise in my throat.

  My precious boy, my Jack, at thirteen years old, is standing on the other side of the room with shock and fear and a little bit of confusion in his eyes. Jack is an early bloomer, already a few inches taller than I, and a good twenty pounds heavier, but right now, he looks far younger, far smaller, than he is. I have no idea how long he’s been there, what he has heard or seen.

  Everything happens so fast. Before I can reassure Jack, or tell Vince that Jack is there to get him to stop, he grabs me by the neck once more, but this time with more purpose. He lifts my body off the ground and with more strength than I realize he possesses, he presses my back up against the wall, my legs hanging lifelessly. I scratch at his arms, only causing him to become angrier with me, to use more force. He swiftly moves, and the next thing I know, I’m landing with a thud, the pain that I felt earlier not a match for what I am feeling now. He threw me halfway across the room, my head barely missing the corner of the brick surrounding the base of the fireplace.

  Three thoughts cross my mind. First, Jack and I have to get out. Second is Jack just witnessed that. The third? Never. Again.

  “Mom!” Jack screams, coming to my side and touching me with gentle hands. I can hear terror in his voice as he holds my limp body against his trembling one, whispering and mumbling words close to my ear. I try in vain to sit up, but the pain is radiating through my entire body. I had never imagined the one to make me feel safe would be my teenage son but, I have never felt safer.

  Still I know, deep down, that if I stay, if I don’t fight for us, it will never end, and eventually it will turn on Jack. Part of me, the nasty part, feels a little grateful Jack had seen it. It makes me feel stronger, that much more determined, and honestly, I don’t know if I would have found the strength otherwise. I fear I would have endured anything in order to keep Jack safe, to keep his life normal.

  Still crouched beside me, Jack turns his body toward Vince. He holds up his hand when he sees Vince advancing in our direction.

  “Get away from her,” Jack says in a voice much stronger, deeper, louder than I have ever heard from him. “Get the hell away from her!” he repeats louder. “You don’t touch her again. Ever!”

  “Jack, we were just messing around,” my idiot of a husband says with a wave of his hand and roll of his eyes, trying to explain away his actions.

  “Really? That’s the excuse you’re going with right now? I don’t see you crumpled in a heap after being beaten by someone over twice the size of you!”


  “Boy…” Vince starts toward my son, and that is when I know. Like a wrecking ball had toppled over every last bit of hope that I have for my marriage, with Jack’s help, I stand on shaky legs and turn to face the man I once pledged my life to.

  “You touch him… I’ll kill you. I won’t hesitate. You bastard,” I say with a shaky voice that I try to will away, but my body’s reaction to everything that just happened can’t be helped. “We’re done. Never again. You won’t touch me again. You won’t speak to me again. You won’t speak to Jack…”

  “Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Vince sneers.

  “Dramatic? You think that…” I point to the wall he pinned me against, to the fireplace he nearly threw me into. “…is dramatic?”

  He scoffs and rolls his eyes at me, like I am the ridiculous one, but my stare never strays from his.

  “Get your shoes on, Jack. Go to the car.”

  His eyes shift quickly over to our son but return to me. “Don’t you leave, Jack,” Vince says in what he obviously thinks is a commanding voice, but in reality, Jack has, no doubt, lost all respect for his father.

  “I’m not leaving you alone with him,” Jack says to me, his arm going under my arms to hold me up when my legs start to go weak.

  “You aren’t taking my son.”

  “I am,” I say as Jack and I start to back away toward the front door. I am grateful I still had on my tennis shoes from my busy day, and one quick glance down shows me that Jack has his on as well.

  “You can’t do this. I’ll call the police. They’ll arrest you for kidnapping,” he says.

  “Vince.” The sound of Jack calling his father by his given name causes me to blink hard. It brings everything that is happening to a screeching halt.

  Vince’s eyes widen, his face reddening. “What did you call me, boy? You show your dad resp—”

  Jack cuts him off before he can even finish the word. “Respect? Really? I just watched you choke my mom, hit her, pin her to a wall, then throw her across the room! Not to mention what I heard you say to her. Screw you!” he shouts, pointing a finger at Vince. “You wanna call the police? Fine. Go for it. I’ll be damn glad to share everything I just witnessed with them.”

  Well, that answers my question as to how much he saw and heard. Pretty much everything, from the sounds of it.

  “They won’t believe you,” Vince tries to reason.

  “Yeah? Sorry, but the blood and bruises that are covering Mom tell me differently.”

  I have no idea where my son’s strength comes from, but it gives me the courage that I need to stand up for both of us.

  “Vince,” I say and wait until he turns to face me. For a slight second, I swear I see regret flash across his face before it’s gone. I move slightly in front of Jack, reaching behind me to place my hand on his arm. “I’m only going to say this one time. We. Are. Done. Don’t come after us. Don’t mistake this for some argument or misunderstanding. Say goodbye to Jack.”

  “Jack,” his voice cracks. The flash of regret is back, only now it lingers and pain is included. He knows he’d stepped over the line, knows his mistake, and maybe a small part of him has some sort of remorse, some pang of guilt. Seeing the disappointment in his son’s eyes as he looks at the man who he once looked up to apparently makes him realize what he’s done. But it changes nothing. What has happened today is irreversible.

  “Bye, Vince,” Jack says with conviction, making my heart break for him.

  He turns me around, grabs my purse from the hook by the door, and hands it to me. We walk into the garage, climb into the car and still haven’t said a word to one another.

  It isn’t until we are a few miles away that the reality of what just transpired takes hold. My hands shaking, the sobs begin to wrack my aching body so suddenly. I pull over to the side of the road and look over to see my son’s shoulders shaking. Jack has tears streaming down his face as I lean over and grab his hand.

  “Jack…”

  He reaches up with his free hand and swipes angrily at his face and looks over at me. In a shaky voice, he says, “Don’t, Mom. Don’t make excuses for him. Don’t apologize. Just… don’t.”

  “Okay.” My voice is quiet, allowing him the time he needs to digest everything he’s witnessed.

  Jack squeezes my hand and shifts his gaze on me, tears still streaming from his eyes. He sniffs and wipes under his nose with the back of his hand then shakes his head. “I don’t want to know how long it’s been going on. I don’t care if that’s the first time or the hundredth time. That’s done. I mean it, Mom. That’s. Done. Never again.”

  “Okay,” I say again.

  “I mean it, Mom. That’s done. Never again,” he repeats.

  I am not sure why he repeated everything he just said, whether it is for my reassurance or his. It doesn’t matter, I understand how serious it is. How serious he is.

  “Never again, Jack,” I assure him.

  “I won’t let it happen.” His voice is no longer shaky but full of what almost sounds like fury.

  “I know you won’t. I won’t either. I promise,” I assure him, squeezing his hand again.

  “Promise?” And with those words, I am instantly reminded of just how young he is.

  “I promise.”

  Whatever he sees when he looks into my eyes must be enough. He releases my hand and blows out a deep breath and nods once. “Okay,” he says and takes another deep breath. “Okay.”

  And right now I know. I will never again allow myself to trust a man with my heart the way I trusted Vince. I will never open myself up like that and I will never, ever allow my son to see anything like that again.