by Ashley Munoz
My father’s somber eyes stayed glued to the baby blue dinner mats my mother had down at each place setting. I swallowed, toying with the napkin holder.
“I wanted to tell you how sorry I am,” he started, tapping his finger on the table and watching me through his thick glasses.
My eyebrows drew together in confusion as I wondered at his guilt. “Dad, you have nothing to be sorry for. None of us knew Bryan had the abuse bone inside him.”
My father’s lips turned down as he ran a hand through his thin hair. Letting out a heavy sigh, he tipped his head back and muttered, “Still, shouldn’t have happened to you…I just wish I could have protected you from it.” The pain in his tone sliced through me, carving a path of regret through my midsection.
I moved so I was hugging him. “Thank you, Daddy. I love you so much.”
He rocked us back and forth, shedding a few tears. “I’m sorry I said anything about counseling…I only said that because I know some couples who’ve been in your situation and saw one while they were separated. I just know if it were me, I’d do anything to keep your mother. Anything and everything.”
I nodded against his chest, holding in a sob. “I know, but you can’t take that on. You have nothing to be sorry for. And Bryan and I…we weren’t like you and Mama. Ours wasn’t that kind of desperate love you can’t live without. We hadn’t been close in a long while.”
He hesitated for a moment, stroking my back. I looked up, trying to gauge if he wanted to say something or not. His eyebrows were drawn in, his eyes reflective and worried. I knew he wanted to say something more, but my mother came in and interrupted him.
“Faith, our show is on, honey.” She grabbed the archway, eyes roaming over my father and me.
I wiped at my face and stood, kissed my father on the cheek, and followed after my mother. Design shows had always been my mother’s and my favorite thing to watch together, even before Chip and Joanna Gains were a big deal. I was obsessed with interior design, and before my world had been upended, I’d had plans to study it, get a degree in it, and somehow make a life from it. The idea now sat uncomfortably in my chest. I felt like I was starting over, going back five years, to when I should have started my life; I was behind on everything.
“Stop messing with your neck,” my mother chided from her small recliner, a pile of knitting sitting in her lap. We’d burned through an entire episode already, and somehow my fingers kept drifting to my throat.
I put my hand under my thigh to keep from fiddling with my naked neckline. The locket had been there every day for five years; I wasn’t used to not having it. I kept tugging on phantom strings, wishing there was something to touch.
“Do you think I left any jewelry here? Any necklaces from before I married Bryan?” I looked over at my mother, who had her eyeglasses perched on her nose.
“Not sure.” She reached for a deep blue color of yarn down in her basket. After a few minutes, she spoke up again. “So, Judy Masters came over this morning…”
I heaved a sigh, rubbing my temple. “What did you hear?”
Small-town gossip was more efficient than Google most days, and Collierville would put them all to shame. My mother mentioning any of her friends showing up meant they’d been here to spill secrets.
My mother thinned her lips and let out a sigh. “Well, you know my rule, sweetie.”
Ah yes, the rule. “You only gossip two truffles’ worth,” I said, canting my head. Ever since I was little, my mother used to quote Proverbs to me and say gossip was tasty, like a chocolate truffle, and if you were going to do it, you might as well taste it so you felt the weight of your sin—literally.
“Exactly, and two truffles’ worth, no matter how slow you eat it, still wasn’t enough to tell me exactly why Jace Walker towed your car after bein’ nasty to you last night.” She was exasperated, but it seemed like it made her feel better to get it off her chest.
“He towed my car because I left it somewhere it shouldn’t have been, no other reason…it was business.” I flicked my hand, returning my gaze to the television.
My mother was silent, returning to her knitting. I knew her well enough to know she was feeling guilty for gossiping and hearing idle talk—and about her daughter, no less.
I decided to change the subject, hopefully making her feel better. “My neck feels empty and I can’t stop reaching for my locket.”
“I have a few things you can look at if you really need somethin’,” she offered, adding a new column to her blanket.
More silence hung in the air. She had admitted to hearing about Jace, she knew my neck was empty, and yet she wouldn’t ask about it, just like she hadn’t when he dumped me. Always quiet, always silent, never speaking her mind.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Mama, say something to me about my locket. You had opinions on it yesterday, but now you’re being quiet. Just say something. I feel like I’m goin’ crazy.” I searched her pale face, void of any makeup. Where my father was full of emotion and vulnerable, she was stone cold.
“It isn’t my place to say anything ’bout the man you love, honey. Never has been. Your heart chooses someone then fortifies the decision with walls thicker than any stone and stronger than any steel.”
I rolled my eyes, feeling an immature urge to defy her. “So you’d rather me just sit alone in my misery?” I reached down to pat Trudy’s head. “And what’s this about love? You think I still love him?” Scoffing, I waved my hand as if to dismiss the ludicrous idea, but she only fixed me with one of her looks that was both soft and severe.
“Isn’t that what love is? You carryin’ another man’s locket around your neck while swearing vows to a different one?” She dropped her knitting and narrowed her eyes. “You think everyone just ignored the fact that Jace gave you that as a promise and you kept on wearin’ it?”
My face heated with shame. Of course, I had thought no one would notice. I’d assumed what I did and what I wore around my neck were of no consequence. Suddenly Jace’s face when he pulled the necklace from my throat made a little more sense. Had he noticed I’d kept it on all this time? Had he seen any footage of my wedding?
“Do you think he knows?” I asked quietly, watching the home renovators tear out a kitchen sink.
“That you still love him? I don’t think he believes enough in himself to believe you could still feel that way for him. He’s…broken. He isn’t the same anymore.” She looked down at her hands.
“I didn’t think I still did, but seein’ him…it’s hard,” I confessed solemnly.
“We can’t help who we love, baby girl. But you have a bigger problem on your hands.” She pulled her glasses from her face and pushed back a few stray pieces of hair. “You need to divorce your husband. You need to find the person you were, the one you left behind when you ran off to marry him, and you need to discover who it is you want to be now. You can’t jump from one moving vehicle to another.”
A stray tear made its way down my face as I processed her advice. It would have been so nice to have her comfort, to have her hug me and tell me yes, you’ve lost yourself, but you’ll find a way back.
So, I closed my eyes and imagined her arms around me tight, hugging me, like Gemma’s mother always did with her. I imagined her shedding a few tears too, worried about her daughter. Then I mentally imagined putting myself back together and making a difficult phone call with my mother by my side.
It wouldn’t happen, but the image I had conjured would do the trick.
I believed courage isn’t something we’re born with. It’s something we have to dig for, and claim. So, I started my morning with a run, chasing the sunrise and digging for some courage.
I needed something to help me prepare for the phone call I was about to make. Jace had forced my hand, and my mother was right; I needed to face this.
I sat out on the back patio of my parents’ house and dialed Bryan’s cell.
When we were married, he never answered. Ever. He’d tell his secr
etary to deal with me, which was always fun because Tarryn was younger than me and acted like she was better too.
It rang a few times, and I patted Trudy’s soft fur while I waited. On the fifth ring, he answered, and I paled. I wasn’t ready to talk to him. Just a little over a week earlier I had been living in the same house as him, but I already felt my defenses rise just hearing his voice.
“Baby, is that you?”
“Hey…” I faltered. “It’s me.” I struggled with my emotions and hated that they were bleeding through my voice. At the sound of my husband using a soft tone with me, pain and misery swam through me.
I had loved him at some point, had even wondered if we’d start a family together, but over the past few months, that devotion had been replaced with derision.
“Thank God. I had no idea where you were, or if you were okay.” Bryan let out a relieved sigh. I wanted to call his bluff and tell him he didn’t care about my wellbeing, otherwise he wouldn’t have kicked me in the stomach, sending me down the stairs the last time I pissed him off.
“I’m at my parents’.” My tone came out clipped and irritated, but the more I considered what was happening, the more I realized I didn’t owe him any pleasantries.
“Okay, what does that mean for us?” Bryan asked, sounding slightly panicked.
“I meant what I wrote on that note…I want a divorce.”
Bryan let out a heavy sigh. “No, that isn’t happening. So, take your time, go to a spa, talk to your small-town friends—do whatever the fuck you need to do, but we are not getting a divorce.”
I ran my fingers along Trudy’s smooth back to try to calm my heart rate. I’d known this was how it would be once I actually talked to him, but hearing his cold tone talk about us not getting a divorce provoked a sick kind of terror.
“Bryan, this isn’t something I need to process. You put me in the hospital.”
“Are you insane?” he yelled, and something made a hard thwack on his end of the call. “You tripped down the stairs and I took you in—did you forget that little bit?”
My chest was rising and falling, and I stood to try to help regulate my breathing. “I fell because your foot collided with my stomach. My ribs are still bruised, and I was approached by an advocate asking if I was safe or not and if I wanted to press charges.” My voice cracked, and that was when I knew I was drowning, circling the drain just like he wanted me to. “I’m not doing this with you right now.” I released a shuddered breath, bringing my fingers to my forehead to try to smooth my hair back.
“You’re my wife. Mine. You’ll do whatever the fuck I say you will. Now, I’m giving you a week to relax, think things over, and calm down. Then I will call you again and we will talk like the happy couple that we are.”
He hung up on me, something I should have seen coming. I hated that I wasn’t the one to do it. I lowered the phone and finally looked up to see my mother standing on the other side of the patio glass, watching me with a worried expression.
Come out here. Check on me. Hug me.
I internally begged her, but she turned and walked away, leaving me alone on the porch. I looked around the back yard and tried to take comfort in the vast acre of dark green that extended all the way to the tree line.
I slunk down into the patio chair and tried to remember what it was like as a child, out here with my small camping lantern, watching for lightning bugs. I used to pretend fairies lived in the woods behind my house. I used to dream about a prince coming to sweep me off my feet and show me the world. Then one day I met Jace and I started dreaming about him instead. I imagined him waiting in those woods for me, until one day he was.
I blinked to get rid of the memories and shoved myself up. This chapter of my life just needed to end already.
Six
Five years earlier
Corvin narrowed his eyes, watching the dark blip of color jump the counter on the security footage. He reached for his remote, hit the rewind button, and played it again. After he did this five or six times, I finally let out a heavy sigh.
“What exactly are you looking for?”
Corvin’s watery blue eyes turned up, searching my face. “Reasonable doubt, I spose.”
I laughed, feeling a little lighter being able to share this with someone. Corvin had become a friend to me in the strangest of ways. In my head, he was more like a priest. His small retirement room was our confession booth where I spilled all my secrets and he offered absolution in the form of wisdom.
“What am I going to do?” I leaned forward, putting my head in my hands.
Corvin brought a shaky hand to his mouth as he coughed. “Have you told anyone else?”
I shook my head. The DVD had shown up in the mail earlier that day, addressed to me. No return address, no note. Just the security footage, showing that I was identifiable in the video.
“Keep it that way. Don’t bring the girl into it either, just try to sort it out before you blow everything up.” Corvin patted my hand heavily.
“Faith and I…we’re supposed to be leaving for Memphis at the end of the month. We’re going to community college,” I muttered quietly.
“Didn’t realize it was already August…well then, for your sake, we might need to get ahead of this.” Corvin’s eyes narrowed, focusing on nothing.
I patted his spotted hand. “I’ll figure it out.” I tried to fight the shame settling heavy on my shoulders. As grateful as I was that I had him to bear this burden with, it didn’t eliminate the sting of him finding out what I’d done.
“Sometimes life is just about lessons and how we learn them. This one I’d say you learned the hard way, but maybe the person who knows just wants you to stop.” Corvin shrugged, his hunched back barely moving.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” I reached for the bag of pork rinds I’d brought, trying to ease the tension out of the moment.
“Usually am,” he said, sure of himself.
Present day
I sipped from my beer as I watched the sun dip into the horizon. There weren’t any mountains around, but from where I was currently perched, I could see the tops of a nearby grove of trees. A wet nose nuzzled into my neck, reminding me that I needed to head back.
“Calm down, boy.” I patted the head of my English Pointer and tried to shove him away. He was a rescue I’d picked up two years back. He had been discovered tied up inside a double wide, malnourished and nearly dead. Someone had posted about the dog on the news, and for whatever reason, I’d just known I needed him. He’d been my best bud ever since.
He knew it was past time for us to head back home, but I was struggling to leave. Up here I didn’t have to think about the fact that Faith was in town in what seemed like a permanent capacity. But what did I know? She could have just been on some weird unplugged vacation where she tried not to spend any money. Who knew what rich people did or why they did it?
“Trevor, calm down,” I muttered again as I continued to shove him out of my space. He sat back on his hind legs, staring at me…waiting. His dark grey fur looked dimmer as the sun set, and his whining finally won me over and had me standing.
“You hungry for dinner?” I rubbed his head. “That it?”
I jumped off the porch and headed down the rocky hill that would one day be a retaining wall in my backyard. Moving toward my truck, I opened the door for Trevor to jump in and looked back at my house.
It was nearly finished, a two-story, mountain-style home with nearly 2500 square feet, a massive wraparound porch, a three-car garage, and an immense stone chimney jutting from the top.
The inside was a shell. The insulation and drywall hadn’t gone up yet, but the floor was down, along with all the windows and doors installed. The contractor was a good friend of mine, letting me go as slow as I needed, making payments as I could afford them.
I had a good amount saved from when Corvin passed. He’d left me everything he had, the stubborn old man. He had two kids, neither of which had ever gone to visit him,
so when my friend passed away, I was notified by a lawyer that I had been named the sole heir to his life insurance claim, a few stocks and bonds, and everything in his room.
Reversing out of the lot and heading back toward town, I veered toward the local gas station.
I put on my blinker, turning into the Quick Stop, and rolled the window down for Trevor so he knew what I was doing. He was a smart dog, always needing to be included in whatever I was planning. A part of me wondered if he was still worried I’d just up and leave him like his previous owner had.
“I’m just gettin’ gas, then we’ll head home and get you some dinner.” I stroked his head and jumped out of the truck. Right after I set the diesel nozzle in the gas tank, I heard another car drive up. Peering my head over the side of the truck, I noticed a dark, older Range Rover.
I hadn’t seen one of those make or models in quite a few years. Smirking, I thought of how Faith had once wanted that exact same car. It was her ‘made-it car’, the one she wanted when she became a mother to the kids we were supposed to have.
I was staring, zoning out as I walked along memory lane when someone’s shriek brought me back.
I blinked and, on instinct, looked to the passenger window where Trevor was supposed to be.
“Shit.” I ran around the truck, hoping he wasn’t humping someone’s leg to death or, worse, trying to get into their car. He had done both—frequently.
“Trevor!” I shouted, rounding the vehicle and coming to a quick stop. Trevor was licking Faith’s face, and she was on the ground, haphazardly leaned against her back tire.
“Is he yours? Can you please get him off me?” She looked up at me, nearly begging.
“Trevor, come.” I bit back a laugh as I reached down to grab his collar. Trevor joined me, sitting next to me as Faith stood and started wiping her face off with the sleeve of her shirt. “Sorry, he gets excited sometimes.”
“Excited…uh, yeah…I guess you could call it that,” she muttered softly, still trying to clean her face.