Insipid (19 page)

I punched in my number and handed the phone back to him. He held my hand for a few seconds before releasing it.

“I’m so sorry again, Jade. Please know that you and your family are in my prayers. I’ll call you tomorrow to see how you’re doing.”

And as I watched him walk out the door, I turned to the moth on the lamp and whispered, “Thank you, Cia, for watching over me.”

LIKE CLOCKWORK, MY
car pulled into the driveway at 9:26 pm. And as in many nights past, I sat in the dark for minutes after the garage door had closed to prepare myself for the long night ahead. I leaned my head back and allowed myself to reflect on the feelings that I’d been holding back. My entire perspective on life changed when I lost my daughter. At first, I spent those days trying to put the blame on someone else. No one else was with her on the day of the accident, so it wasn’t like I could fault someone else for her death. Even the driver of the garbage truck suffered the wrath of my anger. He had simply parked the truck during his lunch break to enjoy his sandwich. Then there was no one else to focus my anger on except for my husband. I blamed him for buying her a little car—I told him that he should have known better. Did he check the safety ratings before giving in to her request? Did he speak to the paramedics and should we sue them because they gave up on reviving her too easily? What use was he to me? A world class neurosurgeon and he couldn’t save our daughter. But then, as days went by, I realized that it was my feelings for Joshua that had changed. Undoubtedly, the loss of Cia had brought on the demise of my marriage. I loved her enough to sacrifice my heart for someone who gave us a stable home. After she died, I couldn’t bear to be near him any longer. My heart was as lifeless as the body that I spent the night with at the morgue.

With a deep breath, I opened the car door and stepped out, acknowledging the fact that he was home that night.

We lived in a gorgeous home in a gated neighborhood, custom built with a flowing floor plan and more bedrooms and bathrooms than our little family could have ever filled. It had been professionally decorated by one of the city’s top interior designers, whose personal touches included walnut floors, stone tiles, coffered ceilings, crown molding, and a gourmet kitchen with state of the art appliances and granite countertops.

The lights in the kitchen were bright and blinding. He was standing by the immense stove, stirring a pot of stew.

“I’m making your favorite. Vietnamese beef,” he said, smiling as I untied my scarf in an attempt to ease the choked up feeling I’d been having every time I had to face him.

“Hey.” I held my coat in my arms as I made my way towards the closet.

“How was your day?”

“It was good. And yours?”

“Same old. Surgery went well today. I got it done in four hours.”

With a contrived movement, I ambled towards the cupboards and pulled out two plates to lay them on the table. The muted feeling of distress was deafening, so much so that I banged the plates together as I placed them on the mats just to break the ice between us. This had been my life for the past year. Rehearsed and hushed. I continued on for a few seconds until his voice broke into my thoughts.

“I loved her too, you know,” he said sadly.

“I know you did.”

“Jade, how long are you going to shut me out?”

“I don’t know, Josh. I’m trying.”

“I’ve begged you to see a marriage counselor with me. I love you. We need to save what we have.”

What do we have?

“I can’t talk about it right now.” The room was filled with pregnant silence. Silence that might give birth to words. Words that can’t be taken back. Words that can’t be ignored.

“Did you ever love me, Jade?”

“I don’t know, Josh. Please. Not tonight.”

How should I have answered his question? Our lifeline was gone. She helped me hold it all together. That night, like all the other nights, I no longer wanted to try. It happened on the day that she died. My heart threw it all up like a cancer that had slowly ravaged my body over a span of nineteen years, leaving me with nothing but shame and hatred for the life that I had. I was desperate to feel love, to revive myself. I wasn’t going to keep it together for the sake of anyone anymore.

I caught a glimpse of a large vase full of flowers in the middle of the counter.

“Whose flowers are those? Who put them here?” I demanded, my tone full of venom and spite. “Sylvia knows better than that. I’ve told her time and again, no flowers in this house. Ever.”

He stepped away from the stove and slowly walked towards the table. Calmly, he lifted the vase up and left the room, carrying it in his arms. As my eyes followed in his direction, I noticed an empty bottle of scotch next to the sink by the bar. He returned in a few seconds and his tone was forceful and challenging. “She was trying to fucking help. It’s not her fault.”

“Well, she knows better than to do that. Next time she tries to help, I’m going to fire her. It’s not like we can’t find another housekeeper.” I wanted to stop but I couldn’t. “I’m going to go upstairs to change before dinner.”

He grabbed my arm as soon as I tried to walk away. “Sit,” he commanded. “You’re going to talk to me whether you like it or not. I deserve more than this, Jade. You’ve been distant for so long. I’m so tired of second guessing what you’re thinking. It’s been nine months since we lost her. How long are you going to make me pay for your pain?”

I saw the hurt in his eyes as he uttered those words. He was right. He needed to know the truth. That there was no more need to pretend.

“What can I do to make it right between us?” he asked, stroking his hand up and down my arm.

“Nothing. I just need time. Please.” I found myself cringing from his touch.

“Time for what? Look around you. I’ve given you a good life, everything you ever wanted. I took your bastard daughter and made her my own. I loved her and raised her and now that she’s gone, you’re making it seem like it’s been such a hard life for you.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “What in God’s name do you want me to do?”

“All I’m asking for is some time. Please understand. I’m nothing without her. I’m trying so hard to cope with everything. My job. My travels. My parents. They’re what’s holding me together.”

“All of them and not me.”

“Josh, it isn’t like you didn’t know this before. I tried to tell you, even when she was still here. I tried to tell you that things haven’t been working between us. But you never listened.” There was no more room for niceties—it was time to try to break free.

“My life was perfect with you.”

“It wasn’t!” I countered. “Please try to remember. Felicia was the glue that held us together. Our love for her—we translated it into our love for each other. We deserve to find happiness. You’re a wonderful person; you’re just not for me.”

There was something oddly off about him. He seemed agitated and jumpy. He wasn’t slurring his words, but he had a glassy look in his eyes that I would never forget. I coaxed myself not to fall into his trap because I was afraid to say more than I already had. But he kept on going. He continued his charge to egg me on.

“It’s him, isn’t it, Jade? You never gave me a chance. Why would you love someone like that? He’s a nobody.”

“Joshua, please. I’m warning you—”

“Warning me about what? All these years, did you think of him while we were together? I saw how you reacted to him when he came to the service. Did you think of him when I fucked you that night?”

Sex. I repaid him for his love with sex. What does that make me?
“Stop it!” I yelled, struggling to get away from him. As soon as he released my arm, I gathered up my things and did anything I could to keep my hands busy. I lifted my purse. I put it down. I moved around the kitchen. I took a kitchen towel and started wiping down the counters. Anything. He wasn’t going to let me leave the kitchen, so I tried to move around him instead of standing still.

“Please, Jade. I’m begging you. Try. Try to love me again.”

“That’s it,” I said. “I don’t know if I ever did. You were so good to me, so kind to take me in and raise my daughter as if she were your own. I will always be grateful to you for that. But it’s over. I don’t want to be with you. I’m drowning. I need to get out.” I gagged as the words escaped from my mouth.

“You’re going back to that lowlife, aren’t you?”

“Joshua. I warned you. Please stop, now!”

“He’s a good for nothing carpenter. How is he going to give you the life that you’re used to living?”

“This has nothing to do with him. I’m just asking for time to figure myself out.” My defense mechanism has always been to keep busy, to distract myself by focusing on the tasks in front of me. That night, my task was to get dinner on the table. I busied myself around him, taking a serving bowl and spooning some of the stew in it. I opened the refrigerator and retrieved the leftover rice from the other night. The shrill ring of my phone broke the silence. The problem was that it was lying on the table next to where he stood.

“Oh look, speaking of the motherfucker. It’s the enigma that is Chris Wilmot.”

“Josh, please just let it go to voicemail.” The beeping sound of the microwave faded into the background.

“How often does he call you? Why is he calling?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t.” The one honest thing that I said all night, and he didn’t believe me.

He banged his fists on the table. The silverware lifted neatly into the air before crashing down onto the floor. “I’m going to ask you again. This time, not so nicely. How often does he call you?”

“He doesn’t. I’m not sure why he’s calling now.”

“Bullshit.”

The phone rang again. This time he answered it. He was visibly shaking and his hold on the phone was so pronounced, I feared that it was going to crumble in his hands.

“Wilmot. Stay the fuck away from her. Don’t ever call my wife again.”

I cowered back in fear as I heard the shattering of the phone against the brick wall.

He looked at me, his face grimaced in pain. It was like a scene from a horror movie where the villain’s facial features mutated from a human being into a deformed monster. I knew what was going to happen next. I could see the venom in his eyes.

I tried to run past him, but he blocked me.

“Where are you going, whore?” he spat out as he pressed against me, bumping me with his chest. He moved forward, I moved backward. “You’re not going anywhere,” he screamed in my ear as he lifted me up by my arms and pushed me against the wall.

“Please, Josh. Let’s talk. Please let me down!” I cried, trying to push him away.

He started to cry. An excruciatingly painful howl emerged from his chest. “Don’t you understand, Jade? I’ve loved you for so many years. I’ve taken care of you. I’ve given you my life. I can’t stand the thought of another man touching you, of another man seeing this immaculate body of yours.” He squeezed my breast and brought his face down to kiss it. “Look at you, my beauty. You look just as young as when I first met you. You were his then. You came to me because there was no one else. I should have known that the empty look in your eyes was because he still had you. Well, guess what? No one deserves you but me. I took you in when you were a used rag pregnant with a child. That should count for something, shouldn’t it?” His wicked laugh was revolting. Bile rose to my throat.

“Josh, please, please, you’re hurting me. I’m going to be sick.”

“Sick? I’m sick. I’m sick with love for you. “No more talking. I love you, Jade. No one is ever going to touch you but me.”

Roughly, he slid me down the wall and yanked my feet away until my head hit the floor with a thud. I tried to reach my arms up to hold his face, but he was shaking so violently that I ended up scratching him on the cheek.

“You bitch!” he yelled as he lifted his hand and hit me on the face.

I felt the warm sensation of blood trickling down my lips. Was it from my nose? My cheeks? Was that horrible gurgling sound coming from me?

“This is mine,” he growled as he rolled me over on my stomach and roughly hiked my skirt up to my waist. I heard him unbuckling his belt and pulling down his pants. My head was turned sideways, my left cheek on the marble floor. I couldn’t move; he had me pinned down by his full bodyweight. My hands were twisted behind my back, my shoulders felt like they were being pulled out of their sockets. He entered me furiously, rotating his hips, his movements intended to tear my insides apart.

“I’m sorry, Jade. If I can’t have you, no one will,” he whispered gruffly in my ear.

I felt his weight lift off me as he continued his thrusts, only to be replaced by the full weight of two hands on my neck.
Take me home, Cia. I miss you so much.

The pain in my chest was indescribable. It felt like all my insides had burst and blood was spurting out of my lungs; I could feel the heat spreading from my chest to my shoulders. Everything happened in slow motion. Before I knew it, my vision was slowly, slowly dwindling in and out. The scratches on the marble floor, vivid and marked before he put his hands on my neck, were fading. For the second time in my life, I noticed the ground underneath me. It hurt to cough. It hurt to blink my eyes. Images of my life started to play out in front of me. All I could see was a young, broken girl at 23, holding her baby in her arms, and an ardent young man who wanted nothing in his life but to love her. I owed him so much. He did take me in. He took care of our daughter. He made us a family.