Submerged

by Cheryl Kaye Tardif

  She'd met Wesley at a company Christmas party shortly after she started working as a customer service representative at Alberta Cable. The son of upper-class parents, Wesley had created his independence by not joining the family law firm, as was expected. Instead, he went to work at Alberta Cable as a cable installer. At the party, he'd been assigned to the same table as Rebecca. As soon as Wesley realized she was single, he poured on the charm. He was a master at that.

  The next morning she'd found Wesley in her bed.

  After nearly four years of dating, he finally popped the question. Via a text message, of all things. She was at work when her cell phone sprang to life, vibrating against her desk. When she glanced down, she saw seven words.

  "Rebecca Kingston, will U marry me?"

  She'd immediately let out a startled shriek. "Wesley just proposed."

  This sent the entire room into a chaotic buzz of applause and congratulatory wishes. The rest of Rebecca's shift was a blur.

  "Is Daddy gonna be at the game?" Ella said, interrupting her memories.

  "No, honey. He's at work."

  At least that's where Rebecca hoped he was.

  Wesley had left Alberta Cable six months ago, escorted from the building after being fired for screaming at a customer in her own home and shoving the woman into a wall. It hadn't been the first complaint lodged against him. He'd been employed off and on since then, but no one wanted an employee with anger management issues.

  When Rebecca had asked what had happened, he mumbled something about an accident, arguing that it wasn't his fault. "No matter what that ass of a supervisor says," he said.

  She'd given him a look that said she didn't believe him. She paid for that look. The black eye he gave her kept her in the house for nearly a week. That's when she filed for separation.

  Since leaving Alberta, Wesley had wandered from one dead-end job to another. For the past two months he'd hardly worked at all. She hoped to God he wasn't sitting at his apartment, surfing the porn highway.

  Last time she saw him, Wesley had blamed his unemployment situation on the recession, which had, in all fairness, wreaked havoc with many people's lives and crushed some of the toughest companies. But the economy, or lack of a strong one, wasn't Wesley's problem. The problem was his lack of motivation and the inability to handle his jealousy and rage.

  Perhaps Wesley was experiencing a midlife crisis.

  Maybe she was too.

  It was getting more and more difficult to keep it together. But she did it for her children. Besides, she'd endured worse than uncertainty when she lived with Wesley. Much worse.

  Rebecca glanced down at her daughter. Ella was a petite child who'd been born two months premature. Wesley had seen to that.

  She shook her head. No. What happened back then was as much my fault as his. I stayed when I should've left.

  "Hurry, Mommy!" Ella said, tugging on her hand.

  The hockey arena was a five-minute walk from where she'd parked the Chevy Impala, but with the ice cream pit stop, Rebecca was glad they'd left early.

  "Ella, do you think Colton's team will win today?"

  Her daughter rolled her eyes. "Of course. Colton is awesome!"

  "Awesome," Rebecca agreed.

  Tamarack Hockey Arena came into view, along with the crowds of hockey fans who gathered outside the doors to the indoor rink.

  Rebecca took Ella's hand and drew her in close.

  In Edmonton, hockey fans bordered on hockey fanatics. It wouldn't be the first time that a fight broke out between fathers of opposing teams. Last year, a toddler had been trampled in a north Edmonton arena. Thankfully, he'd survived.

  "Stay close, Ella."

  "Do you see Colton?"

  "Not yet."

  "Becca!"

  Turning in the direction of the voice, she scoured the bleachers. Then she spotted Wesley near the home team's side. He wasn't supposed to be there. The terms of their separation were that he could see the kids during scheduled visitations. Once the divorce was final, those visits would be restricted to visits accompanied by a social worker―if Carter Billingsley, her lawyer, came through for her. She hadn't given Wesley this news yet.

  "I saved you some seats," Wesley hollered. The look he gave her suggested she shouldn't make a public scene. Or else.

  Rebecca released a reluctant sigh. Great. Just great.

  "Are we gonna sit with Daddy?" Ella asked.

  "Yes, honey. Unless you want to sit somewhere else." Anywhere else.

  Despite Rebecca's silent plea, Ella headed in Wesley's direction, pushing past the knees that blocked the aisle. Rebecca sat beside Ella and tried to tamp down the guilt she felt at placing their daughter between them.

  "There's a seat beside me," Wesley said.

  Her gaze flew to the empty seat on his right and she winced. "I'm good here. Thanks for saving the seats."

  Looking as handsome as the day she'd married him, Wesley smiled. "You look lovely. New hairstyle?"

  She touched her shoulder-length hair. "I need a trim."

  "Looks good. But then you always do."

  She stared at him. He was laying on the charm a bit thick. That usually meant he wanted something.

  Wesley chucked Ella under the chin. "So, Ella-Bella, how's kindergarten?"

  "We went on a field trip to the zoo yesterday."

  "See any monkeys?" he asked, his arm resting over the back of Ella's chair.

  "Yeah. They were so cute."

  "But not as cute as you, right?" He caught Rebecca's eye and winked. "You're the cutest girl here. Even though you have no teeth."

  "Do too!" Ella opened her mouth to show him.

  After a few minutes of listening to their teasing banter, Rebecca tuned out their laughter. Sadness washed over her, followed by regret. If things had gone differently, they'd still be a family, and the kids would have their father in their lives. But Rebecca couldn't stay in an abusive relationship. Her mind and body couldn't endure any more trauma. And she was terrified he'd start lashing out physically at the kids.

  So she'd made a decision, and one sunny Friday afternoon, she'd summoned up the courage to confront Wesley at his current job de jour.

  "We need to talk," she'd told him.

  "This isn't a good time."

  "It's never a good time." She took a deep breath. "I want you to move out of the house, Wesley."

  He laughed. "Good joke. What's the punch line?"

  "I'm not joking."

  His smile disappeared. "You're serious?"

  "Dead serious. It's not like you couldn't see this coming. I want a separation. You know I've been…unhappy in our marriage."

  "I'll try to make more time for you."

  "It's not more time that I want, Wesley. Neither of us can live like this. Your anger is out of control. You're out of control."

  "So this is all my fault?" Wesley sneered.

  "You nearly put me in the hospital last week."

  "Maybe that's where you belong."

  She clenched her teeth. "Your threats won't work this time. I've made up my mind. I'm leaving tonight, and I'm taking the kids with me."

  There was an uncomfortable pause.

  "Seems to me you're only thinking about yourself, what you want. Have you even thought about what this'll do to the kids?"

  "Of course I have," she snapped. "They're all I think about. Can you say the same?"

  "You're going to turn them against me. Like your mother did to you and your father." His voice dripped with disgust.

  "Don't bring my parents into this. This has nothing to do with them and everything to do with the fact that you have an anger problem and you refuse to get help."

  "What'll you tell the kids?"

  She shrugged. "Ella won't understand. She's too young. Colton's getting too old for me to keep making excuses for you. He's almost a teenager."

  Wesley didn't answer.

  "You know what he said to me last night, Wesley? He said you love being angry
more than you love being with us. He's right, isn't he?"

  She stormed out of his office without waiting for a reply. She already knew the answer.

  That evening, Wesley packed two suitcases.

  "I'll be staying at The Fairmont McDonald. I still love you, Becca."

  His actions had stunned her. She'd been prepared to take the kids to Kelly's. She was even ready for Wesley to try to hurt her. What she hadn't expected was his easy submission. Or that for once he'd take the high road.

  "You're leaving?" she said, shocked.

  "That's what you wanted," he said with a shrug. "So that's what you get."

  For a second, she wanted to tell him she'd made a mistake. That she didn't want a separation. That she'd be a better wife, learn to be more patient, learn to deal with his rages.

  Then she remembered the bruises and sprains. "Good-bye, Wesley."

  "For now."

  She'd watched him climb into his car and waited until the taillights winked, then disappeared. Then she let out a long, uneasy breath and headed down the hallway. She wandered through their bedroom and into the en suite bathroom, all the while trying to think of the good times. There weren't many.

  She stared at her reflection in the mirror, one finger tracing the small scar along her chin. Wesley had given her that present on Valentine's Day two years earlier. He'd accused her of flirting with the UPS delivery guy.

  "You deserve better," she said to her reflection. "So do the kids."

  Now, sitting two seats away from Wesley at the arena, Rebecca realized that her husband was still doing everything in his power to control her.

  "Penny for your thoughts," he said.

  "You're wasting your money."

  "What money? You get most of it."

  "That's for the kids, Wesley, and you know it."

  She dug her fingernails into her palms. Don't fight with him. Not here. Not in front of Ella.

  She caught his eye. "Next time Colton has a game, I'd appreciate it if you didn't bother showing up."

  "Wouldn't miss it for the world." He gave her an icy smile. "That's my son down there."

  "What part of 'scheduled visits' don't you―"

  Cheers erupted from the stands as both hockey teams skated out onto the ice and joined their goalies. Everyone stood for the national anthem, then a horn blasted.

  Rebecca released a heart-heavy sigh.

  The game was on.

  After the game, the arena parking lot was a potpourri of car exhaust and refinery emissions, and a breeding ground for irritation. Everyone wanted to be first out. Especially the losing team.

  Rebecca was glad she'd parked her Hyundai Accent down the street.

  "Mommy, are we going home now?" Ella asked.

  "Yes, honey. It's almost supper time."

  "Is Daddy coming home too?"

  "No, honey. Daddy's going to his own house."

  As they made their way through the parking lot, Rebecca was sure Wesley would veer off toward his van, but he stayed at her side. Doing her best to ignore him, she reached for Ella's hand as they crossed the street. Behind them, Colton lugged his hockey bag and stick.

  When they reached the sedan, Rebecca unlocked the doors, sank into the driver's seat and started the engine, while the kids said good-bye to their dad. Stepping out, she moved to the back door and wrenched on it, gritting her teeth as it squealed. Colton climbed in back. Ella looked up at her with a hopeful expression.

  "Back seat," Rebecca said.

  Ella obediently climbed in beside her brother, and Colton helped her with the seat belt for her booster seat.

  Rebecca shut the door using her hip. Catching Wesley's eye she said, "You always said we should use the sticky door, that if we did it might not stick so much. Hasn't worked."

  Wesley studied the exterior of the car. "Can't believe you haven't bought a new car."

  The Hyundai had seen better days—and today wasn't one of them. They'd bought the used car back in 2003, when they'd gone from a two-door Supra—Wesley's toy—to a four-door vehicle that wasn't so "squishy," as the kids had called the Supra. The red paint was now worn in places, the hinges of the trunk groaned when lifted and the back door on the passenger side stuck all the time, making it impossible for either of the kids to open. The latter was a result of an accident. Wesley had been sideswiped by a reckless teen texting on her cell phone. Or at least that's the story he'd given her.

  "This works fine," she said. "I don't need a new one." And I can't afford one.

  Colton cracked the door open and poked his head out. "Dad said he's getting me a cell phone for my birthday next month. One that does text messaging."

  Rebecca shut the car door and turned icy eyes in Wesley's direction. "You what?"

  "Before you say anything, hear me out. Colton's old enough to be responsible for a phone. Besides, I'm taking care of it, bills and all. When he's old enough to get a job, he'll take over paying for it."

  "I told you a while ago that I do not agree with kids walking around glued to a cell phone. It's ridiculous." She walked around to the driver's side.

  "What if there's an emergency and Colton needs to call one of us?" he asked, following her.

  "Then he uses a phone nearby or has an adult call us. It's not like he's driving any―"

  "Rebecca, this is my decision. As his father."

  "Well, I'm his mother, and I say no cell phone."

  She scowled at him, mentally cursing herself for falling into old habits―childish habits. Truth was, she'd been thinking of the whole cell phone argument ever since Wesley had first brought it up. But her pride wouldn't let her back down. Not now.

  "I think you're being a little unfair," Wesley said.

  "Unfair? You really want to go there?"

  She turned when she heard the whir of the power window.

  "Did you tell her, Dad?" Colton asked.

  "Hey, buddy, give me a second―"

  Rebecca frowned. "Did you already tell him he's getting a cell phone?"

  "Let's table the phone idea for another time."

  "Fine."

  Wesley shuffled his feet. "Becca, I have a favor to ask."

  She held her breath. Here it is.

  "I want Colton to stay with me in July."

  From inside the car, Colton nodded. "Say yes, Mom."

  She was livid. Motioning for Colton to roll up the window, she turned to Wesley. "What are you doing? This is something you should've discussed with me first."

  "I am discussing it with you."

  "You should've called me, not mentioned this right in front of him." She tried to ignore Colton, who had his grinning face pressed up against the window. "Why didn't you call me so we could discuss this?"

  "I tried calling. I left you two messages last week."

  Rebecca blinked. She checked the answering machine every day, and there'd been no calls from Wesley.

  Wesley's mouth curled. "I'm not lying."

  "Maybe I accidentally erased them."

  "Probably. You always had problems with technical things. And managing money."

  "For the last time," she snapped, "our financial mess isn't my fault. We both overspent."

  "But you've got your secret stash, don't you?"

  "You know that money is for the kids' college funds," she said.

  When Wesley had found out about the money that had been set aside for the kids, it had enraged him to the point that he deliberately drove his van into the side of the bridge on the way home from dinner at a restaurant.

  Rebecca hadn't come away unscathed. She suffered a multitude of scrapes and bruises, easily explained by the crash. The doctor had no idea Wesley had beaten her after pulling her from the wreck. She barely recalled that incident. But she remembered the others that followed in the days after the crash. The broken wrist. The bruises on her back and hips.

  Every day afterward, Wesley had said he loved her. But love wasn't supposed to hurt physically. Was it?

  She eyed him
now, thankful he had never touched the kids. At least she'd done that right, gotten out before he was tempted to unleash his fury on Colton or Ella.

  "Becca, why are you staring at me like that?"

  "I'm reminding myself of why you'll soon be my ex-husband."

  Wesley flinched, and she knew her words had hurt him.

  Good. He deserves it.

  "Do you think it's possible to be civil to each other?" he said.

  She glanced over her shoulder at Ella and Colton. "If you're willing, I am."

  "For the kids' sake, right?"

  She caught his eye. "For all of us."

  Silence.

  "Look, Becca," he said in a contrite tone, "I've been seeing a psychologist, and I've taken an anger management class. I'm doing everything I can to show you I can be trusted with the kids. I would never hurt them."

  "Like you'd never hurt me?"

  He looked away. "I've apologized for my past. I'm not like that anymore."

  She mulled over his words, her heart conflicted with such a heavy decision. If she was wrong and something happened to Colton, she'd never forgiver herself.

  But what if he's telling the truth? I can't keep him away from the kids. They need him.

  She peered over her shoulder at Colton. He had a smile on his face and his hands clasped in front, pleading. How could she resist that?

  Finally, she said, "How long do you expect Colton to stay with you?"

  "One week. In the middle of July."

  She bit her bottom lip. "I'm not sure…"

  "I know it's not what we agreed on, but I'm taking that week off and I was hoping to spend it with my son."

  "Just you and Colton?"

  He rolled his eyes. "And Tracey."

  Tracey Whitaker used to be a receptionist at his father's law firm. Wesley and Tracey had started seeing each other a few months before Rebecca had asked him to leave. She'd found out about the "other woman" when she'd called her father-in-law one day. Walter revealed to her he hadn't seen Wesley in weeks. Then he asked if she'd called Tracey's place. Everyone at the law firm, including her father-in-law, knew about Tracey and Wesley. Her husband hadn't bothered to keep his affair secret.

  Except from Rebecca.

  Wesley's father had been supportive enough to fire the woman after Rebecca stormed into his office, accusing him of trying to break up his son's marriage. She'd heard Tracey had resumed an earlier career as a caregiver in a senior's complex.