The Midnight Wife

by L. G. Davis

  As I lean back in my chair, chewing on my popcorn, which actually tastes delicious, I make myself a silent promise. I promise to be present, to enjoy the time with my husband.

  Jared says something to me, but his words are drowned out by the sounds coming from the speakers.

  “What did you say?” I lean closer to him.

  “I said I’m glad we came tonight,” he says louder. “Sorry that I’ve been so busy lately.”

  “It’s all right.” I’m glad he’s busy. That way he won’t be around to see me come undone.

  The movie starts. Ten minutes in, I involuntarily glance behind me again at the dark faces behind us. When I don’t see anything to worry me, I turn back to the screen and settle into my seat, pretending everything is normal, that my life is not in shreds.

  I don’t know what happens, but halfway through the movie, my anxiety sneaks up on me. Nothing out of the ordinary has happened, but suddenly, fear is rearing its ugly head again.

  My body tenses and the dormant knot inside my stomach starts to pulse. Even though I want to continue playing the game of pretend, my heart refuses to be fooled.

  I’m still struggling to breathe when my phone, which is on an unoccupied seat next to me, lights up. A text has come in.

  I give Jared a quick glance, but he’s too engrossed in the movie to notice me watching him. I casually pick up the phone.

  I almost choke on my own saliva when I read the message, a few words that pack a big punch.

  I’m here. I see you.

  I switch it off immediately, but the words ring inside my head like a broken record. They snatch my breath. They make my chest ache.

  Jared reaches for my hand and holds it tight. Then he turns to me. Even in the semidarkness I can see the questions on his face. “You’re trembling,” he says. “Something is wrong, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t...I don’t feel well.” I swallow hard. “I want to go home.”

  He doesn’t say anything as he releases my hand and pushes out of his chair.

  I grab my bag and follow him out of the theater.

  The silence between us continues until we get inside the car. Jared leans back his head and closes his eyes, his hands buried in his thick hair. When he opens his eyes again and glances at me, the outrage in them is unmistakable.

  “What’s going on, Kelsey?” He grinds the words between his teeth.

  “I told you I don’t feel well.” I move my hand up and down my forearm, goosebumps rubbing against my palm. “I have a headache.”

  “Stop lying to me.” He grips the steering wheel so tight the veins on his hand push against his skin. “It’s not just about tonight. You’ve been like this for weeks now.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Living a lie is hard work. Right now I’m using all my energy to try and hide the truth from him.

  “What I mean is, you are always here in person, but your mind is elsewhere. You’re so jumpy all the time, even when we’re the only two people in the house.”

  He’s referring to an incident that happened yesterday. He walked in on me in the shower. I was so startled that I screamed.

  I decide not to respond, afraid to say the wrong thing. Jared is watching me too closely now.

  “And you’ve been cleaning even more than usual. The house is so spotless we could eat off the damn floor.”

  “It’s a habit. My grandmother...she was OCD about cleaning and I guess I inherited it from her. I mentioned it to you once.”

  The mention of my grandmother makes my stomach swirl with anxiety. Jared doesn’t know much about her. I prefer to keep her in the past where she belongs.

  Like everyone else, he believes I came from a good family and was raised by a loving grandmother. The truth is, my grandmother was a monster. She punished me for the sins of my mother, who left me on her doorstep when I was a year old. Even though I lived in her house, I took care of myself since I was four. She never cooked so I lived on cereals and stale bread. I washed myself from the kitchen sink with cold water because she forbade me from using hot water, even in the winter. She made me clean the house every day, even when it didn’t need it. If she noticed even one speck of dust, I got to feel the consequences of her wrath. It’s no wonder that even today, years after she died, I’m still doing the things she had trained me to do. I still clean like a maniac as though she’s watching from beyond the grave.

  But Jared doesn’t know any of those things. He wanted me to be perfect, so I told him a perfect, fake version of my childhood.

  “Are you happy, Kelsey?” He stares through the windshield. “Are you happy in our marriage?”

  “I am, Jared,” I blurt out. “I am happy.”

  “Then act like it.” He turns the key in the ignition and drives us home at such a great speed it’s a wonder we don’t have an accident.

  As soon as we’re behind closed doors, he goes straight to his office.

  Chapter 8

  I sit inside my car, parked in front of the building that used to be my temporary home when I had nowhere else to go.

  The Rosemary Shelter for Women had given me a roof over my head as soon as I arrived in Sanlow. I lived inside the towering building even when I was dating Jared. I never told him about the shelter because I was ashamed.

  Jared is working late tonight. Before leaving the house, I sent him a text to tell him I was going to the gym. Another lie that could hurt me. But I was desperate to come to a safe place. Since no men are allowed in the women-only gym, he wouldn’t know I went.

  The shelter still feels more like home than the fancy house on Montlake Street.

  I always return at least once a month, when Jared is out of town, to help out and give back.

  I don’t tell Jared or anyone else in my new life what I do. They will not understand. Last Christmas, I suggested to Jared that we should help out at a soup kitchen for a couple of hours. He was horrified. He thought it would be best for us to donate money to such causes instead of getting our hands dirty.

  I get out of the car and take a deep breath. Far away from Montlake Street, I can be myself. I can be broken and I can cry freely if I want to.

  Behind the doors of the shelter are people who will not judge me, people who do not expect me to be perfect, and one person who knows all my secrets.

  It’s getting dark and the sun is sinking to the other side of the building. A number of homeless women are entering the wrought iron gate to get dinner and a place to sleep for the night.

  Their pain and shame are familiar to me. I recognize the feeling of being lost and having nothing. Whenever I come, I give not only my time, but also money that I steal from the grocery fund.

  The dining hall is filled with people from all nationalities, mothers nursing their babies on naked breasts, babies crying for another bite to eat, people slurping soup that trickles down their chins.

  I don’t look down at any of them. They are my people, my real people.

  Rosemary White spots me in the crowd before I see her. She comes to tap me on the shoulder.

  “Hello, darling. I didn’t know you were coming today.” I whirl around and allow myself to be pulled into her warm hug. I stay inside her arms for longer than necessary, inhaling her soothing lavender perfume.

  She pulls back and searches my face. “Is everything all right?” Her hand, the one with a scar she never likes to talk about, comes to rest on my cheek.

  Her lined face is kind as always and she has the most unusual gray eyes, which are so beautiful they seem unreal. With the gray hair that frames her round face, she looks like an angel. She’s my angel. I still remember when she showed up in my life out of the blue, just when I needed her most.

  I blink back tears and look deep into her eyes. I can only do that with her. Normally, I keep my gazes brief because I’m afraid my eyes will give me away, that they will reveal the secrets I’m not ready to share with the world.

  “I’m not.” There’s no point in hiding it from her. She k
nows me too well.

  A shadow crosses her features, but it soon disappears and she pats my cheek. “Okay, darling. Help me serve the last people, then we can talk.”

  I give her a watery smile and follow her to the packed dining hall, where I scoop potato and sausage soup into hard plastic bowls.

  Each bowl I serve makes me feel better. There’s something about serving others that makes me feel like I’m helping myself.

  I allow myself to be in the moment, to realize there are people much worse off than I am.

  It’s only for a brief moment that I wonder whether Victor has followed me to the shelter. During the drive, I had not noticed anyone behind me. But that doesn’t mean he’s not out there waiting for me to exit the building so he can continue to make my life hell. It has been a week since he contacted me, but I don’t doubt for one second that he’ll get in touch again.

  I have decided that I won’t pay him much attention tonight. This is my home. He can’t hurt me here.

  A homeless lady with a burn scar on one side of her face comes up to me, two toddlers in her arms. Since she has no free hand to take the bowl, I carry it for her to the nearest table before returning to my station to get soup for the kids as well.

  “Thank you,” she whispers, looking into my eyes. Her dark eyes are tainted by shame. She’s ashamed that she cannot take care of her own kids, that she has to rely on other people for a meal and a bed.

  “It’s all right.” I pat her hand. “We’ve all been there.”

  Once everyone is served and the mattresses have been laid out in the sleeping halls, Rosemary comes for me.

  She takes me to one of the rooms reserved for the staff and sits me down on the single bed.

  “Tell me everything,” she says in her husky voice. “I thought you were happy with Jar...your husband. What happened?”

  “Something terrible.” I wrap a hand around my ponytail.

  Rosemary crosses her jean-clad legs and clasps her hands around one knee. “Is your marriage in trouble? You know you can tell me anything.”

  “That’s why I’m here. I don’t know who else to talk to.” I swallow hard. “I was raped a few weeks ago. The man was my husband’s best friend, Victor.”

  “Goodness.” Rosemary inhales sharply, her hand covering her chest, her eyes wild with shock. As soon as she recovers, she pulls me into her arms again. “You poor girl.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” I say, choking up.

  She lets me go. “The first step is to get it off your chest. You did the right thing coming here to speak to me.”

  “I went for a run at a lake not too far from our house. Victor showed up out of nowhere. He told me that he knows my secrets.”

  “You mean—”

  I nod. “He knew my real name is not Kelsey.”

  “And you think he was telling the truth?” Rosemary frowns. “What if he was lying?”

  “I wish he were, but I think he does know.” I chew the inside of my cheek. “He said he needed an incentive in order to keep his mouth shut. He didn’t need to tell me what he wanted. I already knew. He’s flirted with me many times.”

  Rosemary rises from the bed and goes to the door, locking it before coming to sit back down next to me. “What did he do to you, sweetheart?”

  “I pushed him away and he attacked me right there in the bushes close to the water.”

  “What a scumbag.” Rosemary places both hands on her cheeks, her skin flushed with anger. “Does your husband know about this?”

  “I couldn’t tell him, not without telling him everything else about me.”

  Rosemary reaches for my hand and holds it tight. “He still doesn’t know about your past? I thought you wanted to come clean.”

  I shake my head. “If I tell Jared I was in prison for murder, he’ll leave me.” As much as he sometimes stifles me by being so controlling, I can’t imagine a life without him. “And he might turn me in.”

  “I understand.” Rosemary goes quiet for a long time. “I’m guessing you also didn’t report the rape?”

  I shake my head.

  “So, this Victor is getting away with rape? What if he attacks you again?”

  “There’s more.” I drop my head into my hands. “He disappeared that night. I hit him with a rock to get him off me, then I just ran home. A few hours later, his wife called my husband to tell him that Victor didn’t come home.”

  “What happened to him?” Rosemary’s words are barely audible.

  “We still don’t know. A few days after his disappearance, he wrote his wife to tell her he needed time away to think about his life. But I think he lied to her.”

  “I don’t understand.” The bedsprings sigh as Rosemary shifts.

  “I don’t think he’s gone. Since he left, I’ve been getting notes and a text message from him.” I raise my head again. “He’s torturing me from a distance. He reminds me that he knows my secrets.”

  “But how can he do that when you also have something on him? Isn’t he scared that if he exposes you, you might tell the cops what he’s done?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrug. “If I do tell the cops, it will be my word against his. I’m in his town. I’m an outsider.”

  The silence that follows is thick and heavy. We sit side by side, staring at the door, neither of us saying a word.

  Rosemary is the first to speak. She lays a hand on my back, her warmth seeping through my top. “Kelsey, you’ve been through a lot. I want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy. I think the only way you can do that is by telling your husband everything, even if there’s a danger of him leaving you. He might surprise you. He might stay.”

  “And what if he doesn’t? What if he turns me in?”

  Rosemary runs a hand through her bob. “You’re right. Maybe it’s not such a good idea. I wish there were something I could do to help you.”

  I give her a sad smile. “You’ve already done enough for me.” Talking to her has given me the comfort I had been searching for. “I’ll be fine.”

  Rosemary walks me to my car and waves as I drive away.

  On the way home, I notice a black truck trailing behind me for a few minutes. My stomach rolls and sweat starts to trickle down my temples, but I bite down on my lower lip and keep moving forward. I won’t let him win.

  Instead of driving straight home, I head in the direction of the police station, but before I can reach it, the truck disappears.

  Rosemary was right. Victor has as much to lose as I do, maybe even more. If I threaten to expose him, he might leave me alone.

  I park in front of the station and pull out my phone. My fingers hover over the little keys only for a few seconds before I type.

  Leave me alone, or I’ll tell everyone what you did.

  Chapter 9

  I open my eyes to find the sun spilling into the room through the open windows. Both Jared and I have always preferred not to close the blinds at night. We love seeing the stars.

  I hate that the new bars at the bedroom window disturb the view, but Jared says one can’t be too careful. He had them installed only recently.

  I glance at him. He’s still sleeping, his mouth slightly open, his eyelashes gently brushing the area underneath his eyes. I once told him that for a man, he has the longest eyelashes I have ever seen.

  Today is a good day, at least I hope it is. Despite seeing the black truck two days ago, I haven’t heard from Victor. He’s still hiding out there in the shadows and it’s only a matter of time before he emerges again to taunt me. But for now, I can breathe.

  As I watch Jared, he suddenly stirs. Seconds later, he opens his eyes. “Hey, wifey,” he says, pulling me close. He has been kinder to me lately.

  “Hey, husband.” I hold on tight, enjoying every second in the circle of his arms. I don’t know how long it will be until it’s over.

  Eventually, it will be over. I have a feeling it will not end well.

  Jared pulls away and studies my face, as though lear
ning it for the first time, memorizing it. The only truth about me is my looks. If only he could see beneath my skin, he would not like what he finds.

  “You don’t remember, do you?” he asks with a grin.

  “Remember what?” I hold my breath as I wait for him to respond.

  “Your birthday, silly.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “How can you not remember your own birthday?”

  “I don’t know. It’s never been that important to me.”

  July 12th is not a day I like to celebrate. Why would I celebrate the day I was brought into the world by a woman who did not want me? Why would I celebrate the day that started the chain of events that made my life hell? I prefer to forget.

  “Well, it’s important to me,” he says, his voice still thick with sleep. “I bless the day you were born.” He reaches underneath his pillow and comes out holding a black velvet box.

  I pretend to be excited as I sit up in bed and snap it open, gasping when my gaze lands on a fragile diamond necklace that rests on a bed of silk. “It’s beautiful.” I pick up the diamond and the fragile silver chain dangles underneath it like a thin stream of water.

  “Just like you,” he says, pulling me back underneath the covers. “Do I get a thank you?”

  I giggle and place the necklace back in its box. I kiss him hard on the lips.

  We spend the entire morning in bed, and that’s where he serves me breakfast. As he pours attention on me, I do my best to enjoy my time with him.

  “How about we go for a walk at the lake before we head to lunch?” Jared asks when we’re taking a shower together, getting ready for the day. “It looks wonderful outside.”

  I hesitate before responding, pretending to be focused on slathering my arm with soap.

  “So, are you up for it?” he asks.

  “Yeah, let’s do it.”

  I haven’t been to the lake since the night we went searching for Victor. I have only been watching it from a distance, yearning to go to the water, but terrified of the memories.

  “By the way,” Jared says when we’re getting dressed. “Why don’t you go jogging anymore?”