by Brown, Tara
And unfortunately, until I have proof, this will be the status quo.
“Happy faces on, Lil,” he mutters as we pull into the driveway of my sister’s large house. It’s lit and gorgeous with the decorations her husband, James, always puts up.
When we reach the front door, heaps of gifts in hand, we smile wide and ignore each other as we’re greeted by my family.
“Hey. I was getting worried,” Liz, my sister, says with a forced smile as she presses her lips into my cheek. “Why do you look like you’ve been crying?” she whispers in my ear.
“I’ll explain in the kitchen,” I murmur back.
“See, kids, I told you they were coming! This is the problem with people who don’t have children. They’re selfish,” my mother shouts as she rushes to rifle through the gifts in Rod’s arms, taking the one for herself and shaking it before she grabs a few others and heads to the tree.
“Hey, you.” Dad comes and hugs me. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Dad.” I hug back, gripping tighter than normal.
“You all right?” he asks softly so no one else can hear.
I nod, unable to lie to my father. He was a policeman for thirty years in Halifax and can spot a lie from a mile away.
“Well, let’s get you some nog to start the night out right.” He chuckles but I’m afraid I’ve not fooled him. His eyes linger on mine and his smile is forced. He eyes Rod. “Nog, Rod?”
“Sure, Brian, thanks.” Rod smiles at my dad but again, he is not fooled.
Dad narrows his gaze and walks to the kitchen. I swiftly put the gifts under the tree, kiss my niece, Annie, and nephew, Quinn, on the tops of their heads, though they hardly acknowledge me with all the presents being added. I squeeze Mom quickly.
“Hi, darling.” She squeezes back. “You guys are awfully late. They’re five and seven.” She nods at the kids. “You can’t expect them to wait all night.”
“Sorry. Roads were awful.”
“I know, we drove on them too.” She points at the kitchen. “Can you put the kettle on for me? I need a tea.”
“Sure.” I use the request as my excuse to make my way into the kitchen where my sister and dad are waiting. Dad hands me my eggnog and carries Rod’s to him where he’s talking to James.
“What is going on?” Liz asks when we’re alone.
Taking a deep breath, I blurt the details off as I fill the kettle for Mom and make her a tea.
Liz listens and shakes her head. “That’s a lie. He’s lying. He’s cheating and he twisted it all around to make you the bad guy because he’s guilty.”
“He’s right though, I only heard her side of things. And I do think she’s emotionally unstable on a good day. She’s quite manipulative.” The words don’t feel real. “So I have no proof. I went at him with nothing, and he’s done his spinning everything back on me act.”
“Have you told Shawnee what happened?” Liz asks smugly.
“I haven’t had a chance, have I? We got home, fought, grabbed the gifts, and came straight here.”
“You haven’t told her because deep down you know this is some shit. Elaine was making plans to meet up. She was talking about fucking on your vacation. Didn’t you already think you saw them kissing in Mexico? I hate to be this blunt, but he’s having an affair and he’s a liar.” Her tone is venomous.
“Awareness isn’t my issue, Liz.”
A moment later, Rod walks into the kitchen.
Liz smiles wide and the two-faced version he always gets from her comes to life. “How’s the nog, Rod?”
“Good.” He’s visibly suspicious, as if he’s checking on us to see what I’m telling her. “Can I tie into the food? I noticed no one is eating, and I’m starving but if we’re waiting, I don’t want to—”
“No, eat. We were waiting for you two. Let’s eat.” Liz leaves me with the horrible truth of her words and the way they sit in my stomach. “Guys, dinner and then we can open presents.” Liz points to the table covered in delicious-looking appies. Christmas Eve at her house is always appies and eggnog and gifts with the family. We do the big dinner at Mom’s on Boxing Day. That way Christmas can be spent in pajamas opening stockings at our respective homes.
Rod doesn’t need to be told twice. He digs in, getting himself a huge plate of food. He serves himself first in the same way my father always ensures he eats last. They are very different men. He’s laughing and joking with James and my mom, acting normal. He doesn’t seem guilty at all.
My appetite is gone, along with my Christmas spirit.
I take my phone into the bathroom to call Shawnee back and confront the fear I am struggling with that my marriage is over and I’m too scared to leave. A fear she will call me out on and then help me plan an exit.
“Hey,” I whisper into the phone.
“What the hell? I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for an hour.”
“I know, sorry.” I close my eyes and let the words fall out, knowing full well what to expect from her when she hears the story.
As I go on and tell it exactly as I did for my sister, Shawnee is silent, listening and perhaps processing.
When I finish she says, “He’s a liar. I heard the horn too. She was driving and in traffic. He’s cheating, but he’s correct that you have nothing to go on here. You need something more concrete if you want to accuse him.”
“Right.” Finally someone sees it my way.
“But you could walk away, knowing in your heart he was cheating. Why stay?”
“It’s Christmas Eve,” I say louder than I intended and poke my head out again.
“So what? You need to ask yourself why you’re still in this relationship and what you’re getting out of it. I think you’re only there because it’s familiar and you’re scared to be alone now. We’re getting older and you haven’t fulfilled your womanly duties by procreating and so starting over is somehow worse than staying. And that is no reason to be in a marriage.” The advice is harsh as I expected it would be.
“Yeah, I guess I have some thinking to do,” I say offhand, dismissively. “Can we talk about this tomorrow?”
“Fine, but we are coming up with a plan.”
“Okay,” I agree but worry about whether I’ll follow through with it. Because the truth is, I’m not entirely sure how to leave. And I hate that about myself.
Chapter 4
December 25
I’m mid contemplation on how I will murder Rod when I hear a familiar voice in the hallway, “There she is.” My dad, the first visitor of the day, hurries into the hospital room, trying not to stare at the massive purple bar mark on my forehead. It’s so swollen today, I can see it if I look up but that eye movement makes me want to pass out so I haven’t done it again. I imagine my forehead makes me look like some sort of cavewoman. “Merry Christmas. How are you feeling, kid?”
“Tired and sore and nauseous,” I answer for my body only. The fact Rod hasn’t shown up or even messaged me hurts more than his having sex with Elaine for God only knows how long. He knows he’s caught, and like a coward he’d rather hide from me than check to see if I’m all right.
There are no more lies to be spun.
The spotlight is on him.
I hate him in new ways every couple of minutes. And lying here all morning, waiting for someone to rescue me, has done nothing but give me time to stew. I’m livid but also high on painkillers so I’m struggling with being livid. It’s a conundrum. “Where’s everyone? I remember something about moving yesterday. Who was moving?” I’m snarky and can’t seem to rein it in, but I can’t believe they’ve all left me here like this on Christmas Day.
“Oh, it doesn’t matter now. You’re discharged. You ready to get going?” Dad offers me his arm. He’s something of a saint.
“I think so,” I say and carefully climb off the bed, noticing new aches and pains as I slip my shoes on and he puts my coat on one arm only and rests it over my other shoulder. The neck brace and splint will be an
noying for a couple of days. But there are worse things. “Did you see the car? Is Helen okay?”
“I didn’t. But I know the tow guys from work. They texted and said it’s done. The car’s a mess. The guy was driving too fast for road conditions.”
“What about Rod? Will he be home when I get there?” I sound lame, but I need to see him to figure out what the hell is going on and for how long it’s been going on. I want to see his face when he realizes all those lies and the fancy foot work he’s pulled are exposed. His game of making me feel guilty every time I questioned something is over.
“Okay, listen. There’s something I have to tell you.” Dad shakes his head, visibly exhausted as I carefully climb into the wheelchair that is mandatory for me to leave in. “I have been told I’m not allowed to tell you anything, but I don’t think I would welcome this sort of surprise, myself. Especially not after the day you had yesterday.” Dad pushes me from the room and down the hall.
“What surprise? Is Rod dead?” I’m worried instantly but can’t look back at him with my neck in the brace. The tone and secrecy make me wonder if my sister has fled the country after murdering Rod with the weird gun Shawnee talked about, which explains his absence from my bedside.
“Not yet. But last night Liz arranged for you to move into the apartment she and James have in that fancy building. Their tenant moved out at the beginning of December so it’s empty. She rented a truck and the whole group of us moved you in. Brent paid for everything.”
“What?” I gasp, trying to make the sentence add up but I can’t. “Move what? My house? On Christmas Eve? You went to my house and took all my stuff? Are you ending my marriage without speaking to Rod and he’s just cool with it?” my voice cracks and the hallway spins. “What the hell is happening?”
“I know. It sounds crazy. And it is crazy. Your sister has lost her damned mind,” Dad says as he comes around the front of the chair and wipes the tears I didn’t know I was crying from my cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Lilly.” He never calls me Lilly. Ever. “I love you so much, we all do. And well, the truth is your marriage has been over for a long time. It sounds like this has been going on since before you got married.”
My heart flutters. “No,” I whisper. “That’s not possible.”
“After we finished moving everything into the truck, Brent confronted Elaine again, and told her you’re horribly wounded. She was devastated, and I guess she confessed it’s been fifteen years of her and Rod. On and off. When Brent came to the apartment to help unpack, he told us all. He’s a mess too. Poor guy.”
“Why didn’t they just marry each other? Why involve us!” I snap, shooting the messenger. Thankfully, my dad is a strong and understanding man. He doesn’t bat an eyelash at me shouting at him in the middle of the hospital. Being a cop at the Halifax Police Department for decades gives you thick skin. “What kind of selfish piece of shit gets married to someone they’re cheating on?” The anger weakens me and I struggle to keep my eyes open.
“I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “But I wish we’d all told you we didn’t like him from the beginning. Maybe you would have given it a second thought.”
I sniffle and wipe my face delicately with a shaky hand. “No. Shawnee practically told me she hated him and I didn’t listen. I’m such an idiot. I can’t believe this.” I lose my voice in heaving sobs that I can’t maintain, they’re killing my head.
“Oh, kid,” he mutters and pulls me in, carefully hugging me. “I know you’re heartbroken, and I wish I could kill him and take it all away, but—” He offers nothing to go with the "but." As an ex-cop I imagine he knows multiple ways to get rid of a body. He strokes the back of my head as I cry. “One day, you’ll see what a saving grace this was. It won’t be anytime soon, but one day.” He kisses my cheek and pushes the chair to the elevator again.
“I can’t believe this is real.” I wipe my face with my sleeve. “So you moved me? Just like that?”
“Yes. We went to the house and your sister listed every single thing she thought you would want—”
“Was Rod there?” My insides twist and the elevator spins. I grip the chair tighter.
“For a minute. He let us in, apologizing and asking how you were. He said he was just leaving to come to the hospital. Liz screamed at him and told him to leave you alone. She said if he showed up at the hospital, she would murder him with some hillbilly’s gun. She was ruthless, calling him every name in the book.” He pauses, smiling as he relives it.
At least it adds an explanation as to where my husband is.
“Then Liz told him that Brent was on his way. Rod left in a hurry. Said we should take whatever we want and off he went, scurrying like the rat he is.” He squeezes my hand and stares down at me. “He never deserved you. This isn’t how I wanted you to learn that fact, but I’m glad you now know.”
“What a shitshow,” I whisper. I don’t have anything else to say.
What else is there?
It’s Christmas Day.
I’ve been in an accident.
Helen is dead.
My sister verbally assaulted my husband who has been having an affair for the entirety of my marriage.
My family rented a truck and emptied my house in one night on Christmas Eve.
I’ve moved while in the hospital?
How is this real life?
Fortunately, my dad isn’t one of those people who needs to fill the air. So the silence on the ride to the apartment is nice because I am lost in thought, staring at the world through different eyes. A stain of betrayal, pain, and drugs has changed and tainted me.
When he parks, Dad helps me get out and walks me to the front door. He pushes the buttons, 8-0-4.
“Hello?” my sister answers abruptly.
“It’s us,” Dad says back.
“Oh awesome.”
The intercom ticks and the doors make a clunk. Dad opens it for me. The building looks exactly as it did when they bought the apartment three years ago. It’s new and shiny and smelling fresh. But it can’t possibly be home.
The elevator is sparkling clean and mirrored, making it impossible to turn away from the mark on my face. I don’t recognize myself. My vacant stare is nearly as horrible as the bruising.
We stop on the eighth floor and Dad leads me along the hotel-like hallway to the door. It’s dark wood and quite nice with a modern handle and lock.
He knocks and James answers, smiling widely though unable to disguise the anguish in his stare. “Hey, how ya feeling?”
I don’t know how to answer the question, so I don’t. Instead, I give a one-shoulder shrug and press my lips together, gripping my dad as we enter the apartment.
It has high ceilings and a wall of windows looking out over the city. The kitchen glistens with glittering white stone counters and white craftsman cupboards. The fireplace is lit, spreading heat over the large living room where my sofas, the ones I actually picked, are sitting. Even my ficus is here in the corner, contrasting the stark white walls and dark gray wood floors.
I don’t recognize a number of items in the house, but I can’t stop and focus on them.
The house is abuzz with boxes, people, and paper.
It’s madness and too much to take in or comprehend.
“Oh my God, my poor girl. How are you?” My mom rushes me, hugging gingerly.
“Sore. Dizzy.”
“Of course. We’re tired too. We’ve been unpacking all night long, taking turns napping. It’s madness. Not how I imagined we would spend Christmas. The grandkids are at James’ parents’ house having a nice time though.” She waves her hand at the boxes. “It was a big job getting this all done.” Her eyes drift back to mine, waiting for me to thank her so she can tell me I don’t need to. But I’m exhausted and in no mood for it.
When I say nothing, she switches back to caring Mom. “Your poor face. I’ll rub some arnica and lavender on that.” She hurries into the kitchen to grab the natural remedies from the cabinet where she
has no doubt already put them.
“How ya doing?” Brent asks, surprising me with his presence as he unpacks a box of glassware.
“I don’t know,” I mutter and walk to the balcony with my dad. The air outside is cold and fresh, crisp. Winter is here, though it doesn’t always mean snow for Christmas in Halifax. I stare out at the city of twinkling lights as the sun fades away and the darkness comes again at four thirty. A depressing reality for the next month.
“Can I leave you here for a minute?” Dad asks.
I nod and he hurries inside to get a drink of water.
Through the window I watch them all scurrying, cleaning, and unpacking. I know it’s a Christmas miracle, but I’m not sure how to feel the level of gratitude I should. A car accident, the end of my marriage, and a new apartment in one day. It’s too much to take in. Especially being this numb.
Carefully, I sit in the patio chair and watch them.
“You okay?” Shawnee asks as she comes out onto the balcony.
“Nope.”
She sits, not saying anything. What is there to say?
After a few minutes, she smiles and turns to me. “Your sister is not human. I’m convinced. She’s four months pregnant and has not stopped moving for the last twenty-four hours. I’ve always suspected she’s a cyborg and now I know for sure.”
I snort and cry at the same time, losing the hold I didn’t realize I had on my emotions.
But once it starts there’s no stopping it.
She wraps around me as best she can without hurting me or jostling the stupid foam neck brace. I sob into her, completely lost on how my world can possibly find its way back to normal. And what is normal now? Whether I liked it or not, Rod was my magnetic north for so long that I don’t think it’s possible to move it.
“There’s food—oh honey!” Mom jumps into the hug, not being nearly as gentle this time. “Maybe something to eat will make you feel better. Not that you should be crying over him. He was a son of a bitch anyway, and his mom was the worst. Always telling me everything I did wrong. We’re all better off.” She kisses my cheek and walks back into the house.
