Dr. Phillips pats my hand. “It’ll be okay,” he tells me. “It’s up to you. But I think you need to do this to start your healing.”
I nod wordlessly, and he calls the prison. While they get my father, Dr. Phillips puts the call on speaker and I wait, fidgeting with Jackie’s fingers. I twirl her wedding ring round and round. It’s minutes before my dad’s voice comes on the line.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Friess, this is Dr. Phillips, your daughter Corinne’s therapist. I’ve got Corinne and Jackie both here. We’re here to talk about that Halloween night seventeen years ago.”
“I don’t want to talk about that,” my father says abruptly. “Anything else?”
“Daddy?” my voice sounds small, like it did when I was eighteen.
My father pauses.
When he speaks, his voice is gentler. “Yeah?”
“I remember what happened.”
He’s silent again for a very long time.
“Are you still there, Mr. Friess?”
“Yeah. Baby, you okay?”
My father is my dad now, familiar and loving. I start to cry, and my shoulders shake, and my father reassures me.
“Don’t cry, baby. It’s okay. It’s not bad here. I’d do it all over again, I swear it.”
I cry until I’m cried out.
“It wasn’t your fault,” my father finally says gently, and I hear tears in his voice, too. “Your mother never wanted you to remember. That’s why she didn’t take you to a therapist. I hope you forgive us. We only wanted to protect you.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me, and I wipe at my wet eyes.
“Daddy,” Jackie says, and her voice is thin. “Corinne is sorry she hasn’t come to see you.”
I feel a pang of resentment that she’s speaking for me, but she’s doing what she feels she has to do, what she has to do in order to deal with all of this. I remain silent, and my dad immediately answers.
“Don’t hold it against her, Jacks,” he says, and he’s almost stern. “I don’t. She didn’t know. What she went through that night...” His voice is jagged like glass, and it breaks. Jackie’s eyes fill up with tears because we’ve never heard our father cry. Not ever.
“I’m pregnant,” I tell him through my tears.
“Lord, that’s good news,” he says. “I’ve been waiting to hear that for years. You deserve a family, Corinne. Make a family with that man of yours, and be happy for me. That’s all I want. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
My heart breaks because of Jude, and I don’t know what’s going to happen with him. But I don’t tell my father. Instead, I tell him, “I’m on bed rest right now, but when they let me up, I’ll come see you. I’ll try to make this right. We’ll get a lawyer and get you out of there.”
“That’d be real good, Cori-kid.”
My heart constricts at the old nickname.
“I love you, Daddy.”
Jackie echoes my words, and our father’s voice is gruff.
“I love you, too. Both of you.”
Dr. Phillips disconnects the call and stares at us.
“How do you feel?”
Jackie nods slowly. “I feel better. I’m sorry, Corinne. I know you couldn’t help it. I’m just... It’s all so...”
“I know,” I interrupt. “I know.”
Dr. Phillips looks at me. “And how do you feel?”
“I feel better, too, I guess. I meant what I said. I’m going to hire an attorney and get him out of there.”
The doctor nods.
“And about Jude?”
I look away. “I don’t know. He’s grieving so much, and my heart is breaking for him. But at the same time, he hurt me. So much. He’ll never understand how much. I don’t even know if I can process it.”
“You can,” Dr. Phillips says. “And you will. Don’t retreat into your head. Don’t disassociate. Stay in the present. Face the pain, and face the past. We’ll get you through this.”
“But what about my marriage?” My voice breaks.
“We’ll figure that out.”
64
Corinne
Crying doesn’t help.
If it did, I’d be healed by now.
Seven straights days of sobbing should’ve done it. But it didn’t.
It’s been seven days of questioning everything I’ve ever known to be true.
I’ve thought and thought about All Hallows Lane, and I’ve thought and thought about Jude and Zoe. I’ve thought so much about it that it’s all starting to run together.
Was Jude attracted to Zoe because she was younger than me, prettier than me, better than me? My brain knows the answer is no, but my heart struggles.
The fact remains that I’m thirty-five, and my husband had an affair with a twenty-four-year-old woman. That stings. That wounds. That scars. Even though he tells me over and over that it was never about her, it was about a deficiency in him, it hurts. It makes me insecure. It makes me someone I’m not.
I hate it.
Worse, because Michel just died, it’s hard to discuss this devastation with him. It feels selfish somehow, as though I can’t focus on my pain, because he’s got so much of his own to carry.
But it all needs to be dealt with.
Decisions have to be made.
Right now, I’m curled on the couch with Dr. Phillips on speakerphone as we discuss my marriage.
“Stay with me,” Jude urges me fervently, his eyes so so sincere and warm. “Please, Corinne. We’re so much more than this. Our time can’t be up. We have so much left to do.”
“You should’ve thought of that before.” I’m hesitant, but God, Jude is my rock. He’s my life. He was the target of a psychopath. We were on shaky ground. I swallow hard.
“You have to decide if you think you can ever trust him again,” the therapist advises, and I kind of want to punch him in the teeth. “I know it isn’t fair, but it’s on your shoulders now.”
“So, he gets to fuck around, and then I get to clean up the pieces?”
The therapist says, “Yeah. But he has to work hard, too. He has to earn back your trust by being transparent and trustworthy. Jude, can you do that?”
“I’m an open book,” my husband tells me. “You can look at my phone, my computer, anything. I’ll earn back your trust. I’ll earn back your love.”
“I’ve never stopped loving you,” I tell him honestly, and the honesty hurts my throat. “It would be easier if I could.”
His head snaps up. “Don’t say that,” he tells me, and he’s got bags under his eyes. He’s not sleeping.
“It’s true,” I answer limply. “If I didn’t love you, this would be so easy.”
I’d just snip the ribbon of Fate. I’d cut ties, I’d run far away.
But I can’t.
I love him.
“I’ve loved you since I met you,” I tell him. “From the very moment I met you. I could leave you. I know that. I could start all over with someone else, someone who might make the very same mistakes as you did. And then what? I’d be right back where I started.”
“No one will ever hurt you again,” Jude growls, and I know he means it.
“You can’t stop the world from hurting me,” I tell him, although it warms my belly just a little that he wants to try. “I don’t know if I can forgive you. I want to, but...all I can see is you with her, and God, Jude, you’ve got to try to earn back my trust. It’s shattered right now, Jude.”
“I know.” His eyes are hopeful. “But if you give me a chance, that’s all I need, Co. One chance.”
My Jude is in front of me now, my Jude. The sunlight hits his eyes and they turn gold, and I want to lose myself in them. He’s the man I’ve loved for years. I don’t think I can love anyone else. I don’t think I’m capable.
“If you hurt me again...” My voice trails off, and his jaw twitches as he clenches it.
“I won’t.”
His fingers clench and unclench around the curve of his chair arms, and he looks at me again, his gaze liquid.
“Can I hug you?”
I haven’t let him touch me in days. I couldn’t...because he touched her with those hands.
I nod now, though, because I need him. It’s so strange that the one person I need more than anyone, the one person who can help heal me, is the one person who injured me in the first place.
But it doesn’t change the fact that I need him to breathe. I need to feel how much he loves me.
He scoops me up and pulls me against him, and I can hear his heart against my ear. It beats fast and faster, and I clutch him, my fingers curled into his back, and I try to avoid wondering if she’d ever clutched him in exactly the same way.
God, it hurts.
Is it always going to hurt like this?
“I’m yours and you’re mine,” he murmurs into my ear. “That’s how it’s always going to be.”
The therapist clears his throat and we break apart, but Jude keeps my hand tucked in his. I let him, because I need to absorb his strength. I need to feel that everything is going to be okay...even if it’s not.
Truly, for the first time in my life, I know I’m in a situation where it might not be okay. Jude and I might be over. I don’t know if I can fix this.
For the millionth time this week, I cry.
Hours later, I call someone and order an entire household of new furniture, arranging to have all of the old taken to Goodwill. She was in here, and I don’t know what she touched.
I’d light the house on fire if I could.
65
Corinne
The pain is the first thing I think of when I wake, when I’m brushing my teeth, when I’m getting a drink, when I’m breathing. It’s the last thing I think of before I sleep. I think of it always.
I don’t know if I can keep living like this.
I tell Jude that one night as we sit on the sofa, staring at each other over Chinese.
“What are you saying?” he asks quietly, and there’s panic in his eyes.
I swallow. “I don’t know. I’m just saying that I can’t keep obsessing over it. I look in the mirror, and I worry that you don’t find me sexy, I worry that you wanted her because I’m too old for you now, I worry that...”
“Corinne,” he interrupts, and he’s firm and stout. “You are everything to me. I never wanted her. I swear to God. I wanted the idea of her. I wanted the words and the texting and the pictures. I’ve always wanted you. You’re who I love. You’re who makes me laugh and makes me cry and shares dinners with me.”
“You shared dinners with her, too,” I remind him painfully, and he clenches his jaw.
“I wish I hadn’t,” he tells me. “That’s the God’s honest truth, Co. I’d give anything to undo all of it.”
My rib cage hurts when I breathe, and the panic sets in, overwhelming me. I’ve been fighting panic attacks all week.
I try to focus on the things in the room, to bring myself back to the present, to center myself. I close my eyes, and the pain the pain the pain.
“It hurts,” I tell my husband. “It hurts so much more than I ever thought possible.”
His face is anguished, a tiny muscle flexing in his cheek. I breathe in, I breathe out. I breathe in, I breathe out.
He looks at me, something flickering in his eyes.
“Let’s start over,” he tells me. “We can move away, away from the memories. I’ll start a new practice and you can, too. A new house...a new life.”
I pause, and the world stops.
Everywhere I look, there’s a bad memory. She was in my house, in my bathroom, with my husband. I have to stop my thoughts from spiraling.
But I can’t commit.
I can’t decide if I can forgive him. It’s been weeks, and I’m struggling.
I’m struggling.
“I’ll think about it,” I tell him.
He pulls out his phone when it dings with a text, and as he does, as he looks at it, my heart races. He used to text her. Maybe even when I was sitting right there. He glances at my face and freezes.
“God, Corinne, I’m sorry. It’s just the office.”
He holds his phone faceup so I can see it.
I relax when I see the familiar number.
It’s still hard to swallow, though.
Jude eyes me. “Just looking at my phone is hard for you, isn’t it?”
I nod. “I know it sounds silly. But you talked to her on it. She sent you pictures, and you arranged dates and...” My voice trails off, and I stare at the offensive object, at the orange-and-gray case that I’ve seen a million times before. It looks different to me now. Menacing, almost.
“Okay.” Jude stands up and walks out of the room immediately. Curiously, I follow him outdoors.
He drops his phone on the driveway and stomps on it. It doesn’t break.
He picks it up and throws it against the ground. It still doesn’t break.
“Glad I invested in the titanium case,” he says wryly, with a scowl.
“It’s okay,” I assure him. “I’ll get over it. It’s just a phone.”
“It causes you pain,” he points out stubbornly. “Hang on. I know what.”
He tosses it on the driveway again, gets into his Land Rover and runs it over.
The glass finally crushes, and it feels amazingly good. He picks it up and hands it to me, and it’s shattered.
“Thank you,” I say limply. “I’ll get you a new one tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll do it.”
I drop it in the garbage, and we return to our dinner.
“When I get a new phone, I’ll leave it on the counter when I’m home,” he tells me casually after taking a bite of rice. “That way, if a text comes in, you’ll see who it’s from. I want you to feel comfortable.”
I choke up and my eyes water.
“Corinne, it’s okay,” Jude promises. “If I can do anything to help you, tell me. I’ll do it. No questions asked.”
I nod because I can’t speak, because words won’t form. Jude gets up and leads me to the couch, his hands gentle. He sits with me, and we watch the fire burning.
“Don’t leave me,” he says finally. “Please. I love you.”
My eyes are on his hands, his long fingers, and I picture him touching her with them.
“Did you hold her hand?” I ask him, and I know that’s a stupid question. Who cares if he held her hand? But I do. It signifies love and tenderness.
He shakes his head. “God, no. It wasn’t like that, Corinne. It wasn’t sweet love and butterflies. It was sexual innuendo and kinky talk. That’s it.”
My hand curls around my belly, the belly that was almost empty because of her. No matter what, everything will be different now. I’ll have to mourn the loss of my marriage the way I knew it.
If we stay together, it will all be different now.
I’m not the naive girl I once was.
She’s gone forever.
I’ll have to grieve her, too.
66
Jude
All my life, when I was upset, I talked to my brother.
We discussed everything.
Not being able to talk to him about this is killing me.
So I pretend. I go into my study and pretend that he’s sitting in the chair across from me, like he has so many times before.
“I’ve never felt so helpless in my life,” I tell him. I gulp at my water, and I imagine that Michel examines me with his watchful eyes, the way he has a hundred times before.
“You’ve done a terrible thing,” he points
out to me. “There are consequences. You’ve got to wait and see what happens. I wish I had better advice.”
“Jesus.” I gulp at my water again. “Don’t sugarcoat it.”
“Jude, whatever was wrong in your marriage, you should’ve addressed it. Sought counseling. You can’t turn to someone else. If you’ve learned nothing else, I hope you’ve learned that.”
“Yeah. I’ve learned that.”
“How’s Corinne?”
“She’s as you would expect. Confused, devastated, sad. She’s got an influx of memories about that Halloween, and all of the emotion from this, and the horror from Zoe’s accident...and...you... Shit, she’s having a hard time.”
“What are you doing to help?” Michel’s gaze is firm and unwavering. I feel like squirming beneath it.
“I’m there for her. That’s all I feel like I can do. She doesn’t want to talk about it. But I’m there for her when she does.”
“Think about this from her perspective,” Michel tells me. “It was horrific. She’s been through a lot. You were unfaithful. Your lover tried to kill Corinne, and she did kill me. You’ve got to show Corinne that life is worth living, and that you’re worth sharing it with. Earning back her trust will take time, but you can start by showing her the good stuff.”
“The good stuff?”
I don’t even feel dumb pretending to talk to a dead man. It’s bringing me comfort, so fuck it.
Michel points at the newspaper on my desk, tapping on an ad from the local animal shelter.
Puppies need a forever home.
“You think a new dog is going to fix everything?” I ask dubiously.
“Hell, no. But a puppy will give her something to smile about. That’s what you need to focus on. Giving her reasons to smile, every day, until one of these days, she smiles all on her own.”
“You’re right,” I admit. “You actually make sense.”
“Well, I’m fairly bright.” Michel shrugs. “Particularly now. I’m omniscient.”
That’s exactly something my brother would say. I roll my eyes and get up, taking the newspaper with me.
I call the number from the car, and I drive to adopt a second dog.
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