He paused, presumably for dramatic effect. “I did it, Mimi. All the hard work paid off. I’m the newest partner at the firm!”
My stomach bottomed out and my face instantly fell. I tried to recover as fast as I could and gave him a tight smile, but my reaction did not go unnoticed.
His hands fell away from me as if I’d burned him. He took two swift steps away from me, his face twisting into an ugly expression I’d never seen before.
“I thought you’d be happy for me, Mimi.” He began to pace the length of the kitchen. “You know this is what I’ve been working toward. Why I have put in all these long hours. Why I work my ass off. Instead of sharing in my joy, like someone who actually loves me would, you look like you’ve swallowed a bug. Why on earth I thought you’d actually want this for me too, I have no idea. You’ve always been so selfish. I was a fool to think this situation would be any different. I should have called Tiffany.”
I gasped in absolute shock. “You wouldn’t…”
“No, I wouldn’t, but I should. No one would blame me, with the way you treat me,” he spat.
I shook my head back and forth. I felt like I had stepped into some bizarre dimension where everything was backwards. When had I ever been anything but good and loving towards him? How could he accuse me of these things?
“Vance, it’s not that I’m not happy for you. I know this is what you have wanted. It’s just that the stress of your job has taken such a toll on you, on our marriage. Forgive me, but I’m worried about what this promotion means for us. You’ll be under more pressure, and you’ll probably still be working long hours. Your mood has been so erratic lately--I mean just listen to the things you’re saying to me. You know me better than that. You know I love you and only want good things for you, for us,” I stammered out.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mimi. Yes, I’ve worked long hours, but that’s to be expected. You knew I didn’t have a nine to five job when you married me. But as far as my mood and the things I’m saying? I’m only telling you what I see. You’ve been a real bitch lately, totally unsupportive of my needs and understanding of my obligations. Like when you text me trying to get me to have dinner with you when you know I have to work. Only thinking about what you want, never about what I need.”
He hung his head then, putting his fingers to his temples and rubbing in small circles. He blew out a long breath before speaking again.
“Now you’ve given me a headache. I can’t even go out and celebrate my hard work on my own or with my friends. Thanks, Mimi. Once again, you’ve managed to ruin everything.” He turned and walked from the kitchen, leaving me standing there with my jaw gaping, and my heart bleeding.
Of course, we never made it to Lake Tahoe, or anywhere we talked about as we cuddled that day in bed when he was off work. In retrospect, that was the last beautiful day we had together. The last day of our marriage as I had known it to be.
One day bled into the next, a study of loneliness, peppered by unpleasant encounters with Vance on the few days he would come home at a decent hour. When he did, he always let me know ahead of time, so I could have dinner waiting for him when he arrived, but he was always in a foul mood. Whether it was from a bad day at work, or a rough commute home, he was completely unpleasant. When he spoke to me, which wasn’t always, he always found fault with something. It could be what I was wearing, or with what I cooked, or how it was prepared. He grew meaner and meaner, to the point of being outright cruel. He’d call me fat, even though I hadn’t gained an ounce of weight since the day that I’d met him. He’d criticize the way I wore my hair, telling me Tiffany’s long length and shade of auburn was much more appealing. He made fun of my clothes, insisting they were too boring and that I should dress sexier to “liven things up” if I wanted to keep his attention. As if I wanted any of his attention at that point. My goal was to stay as inconspicuous as possible.
He took to sleeping in the guest room, which was fine with me. The less he was near me the better. One day, on a night he was working late, I took all his clothes and moved them into that room so he had no reason to ever come into our bedroom anymore. We were roommates as far as I was concerned, at that point.
I thought about leaving him. I couldn’t see things getting any better, since I didn’t know how to fix the problems we had and he certainly didn’t seem interested in doing anything other than using me for a verbal punching bag. Still, I was holding on to how things had been between us, and I hadn’t stopped loving him. He hurt me day after day, but some part of me still believed my Vance was somewhere deep inside him, and I only had to figure out how to find him and bring him back to me. I knew his job was the source of all our problems, his ongoing headaches being more evidence that his job was killing not only us, but his health as well. He just looked bad. He looked gaunt and had dark circles under his eyes. My handsome, happy husband was gone, and replaced with a harried-looking bitter man who did nothing but work and bring me down at every opportunity. I felt if he could find a position in a firm that wasn’t so high profile and had a more relaxed atmosphere, he would return to his normal self. I had to believe that, or I would give up altogether.
Then came that final night. Vance had sent me a text message letting me know he would be home early in the afternoon, doing some work from home, specifically advising what he wanted for dinner. He said he had news to share with me, so I should be home as early as I could be, too.
I left work at lunchtime, so I could stop by the market and pick up the ingredients for the meal he had requested. I figured he was in good spirits for a change, since he was requesting fried chicken and mashed potatoes, a favorite of his, but not something he usually indulged in. Since he seemed to be in a festive mood, I also picked up the ingredients for a chocolate silk pie, since I knew that was also a favorite of his. Might as well go all out, and show him I could make the effort. I was downtrodden at this point, but there was still that tiny spark of hope that could be fanned into something brighter with just a hint of encouragement.
When I got home, Vance was already in his office, but he didn’t come out to greet me. I changed into a pair of soft pants and a short-sleeved blouse and began working on the pie. By the time it was setting in the refrigerator, it was time to start preparing dinner.
As I was peeling the potatoes, Vance came in to the kitchen and got a bottle of white wine that had been chilling in the refrigerator. He silently popped the cork and poured himself a glass. He pulled another glass from the cabinet, and offered it to me, but I just looked at him quizzically.
“Oh, that’s right,” he said softly. “You still don’t like wine.”
I shook my head silently and continued peeling the potatoes.
He cleared his throat, then began speaking. “I have news,” he said.
“You do? About what?” I asked mildly.
“I’ve been offered a position in the New York office.”
I nodded. “With the ‘big boys,’” I said. “That’s great. It’s exactly what you’ve always wanted.”
“How do you feel about it?” he asked.
I was taken aback for a moment. He was asking me how I felt about something? It was a trap. I knew it. I responded before he could detect any change in my demeanor.
“I just told you. I think it’s great,” I said with as much enthusiasm as I could feign.
“I’m proud of you, Mimi. I really expected you to object and complain about this. If I had known you’d be happy for me for once, I would have suggested we go out and make a real celebration of it.”
“What’s not to celebrate? This was always the plan from day one, right? I think you mentioned it the day I met you, even,” I said, smiling. “I had a feeling you had good news, based on what you requested for dinner, so I went ahead and made you a chocolate silk pie, too. So, even though we’re not dressed up, or at a five star restaurant, we can make do with some of your favorites.”
He smiled in a way I hadn’t seen in a long time
: that dazzling Pepsodent smile that used to make my heart melt every time I saw it. Now it only made my heart ache.
“See, Mimi. When you put the effort in, we can have a nice time together like we used to. Maybe New York will be a new start for us.”
I just nodded. It hurt to hear him say what we’d had was simply “a nice time.” It had been spectacular, all consuming, beautiful and so very special. He reduced it to merely a bland, convenient relationship between two mostly indifferent people in one sentence. That was what we had now, when he wasn’t being cruel and awful to me. Then to insult me on top of it all, by acting as if the demise of our relationship was my fault, it was almost more than I could bear. Nevertheless, I kept my composure and began cutting up the potatoes and putting them in the pot for boiling.
He sipped at his wine while he watched me for a while. I felt very uncomfortable having him in the room, expecting him to criticize or berate me for something at any minute. Instead he just stood there quietly, watching my every move.
“You look very pretty today, Mimi,” he said softly.
I stiffened. He hadn’t given me a compliment in ages. I was suddenly suspicious, wondering what he was up to.
“Thank you, Vance.” I said carefully, not wanting to do or say anything that might set him off. This was new territory and I was unsure how I should react. I felt like prey in the face of a new and unknown predator.
“Is that a new outfit or something? Have you done something different with your hair?” he asked.
“Nope. Same plain old me, I’m afraid,” I said as I transferred the pot of potatoes to the stove and set them to boil. He came up behind me and rested his hands on my hips, breathing in the scent of my hair. I stood stock still, afraid to move.
“I remember that smell. It’s been a long time since I’ve been close enough to catch your scent,” he whispered into my ear. “Perhaps we can get even closer tonight. I believe your new attitude and pleasantness tonight is having an effect on me. It reminds me of how we used to be.”
I swallowed, pulling all my strength to me and turned in his arms. I wrapped myself around him and rested my head on his chest, doing my best to hold my tears at bay. How I wished this hug was like all the others I used to cherish, to take such satisfaction in. Now it was just a hollow impersonation of what we used to have. I squeezed him tightly and looked up at him with fake, but what I hoped appeared sincere, affection in my eyes.
“It’s very nice, Vance. Unfortunately, if we stay like this, I’ll never get this dinner finished and our celebration will be ruined.”
He smiled, squeezed me and stepped away. “To be continued later then,” he whispered suggestively. “I have a few things to finish up in my office. Call me when everything is ready.”
“I will,” I nodded as he picked up his glass of wine and left the room.
I continued preparing the meal on auto-pilot. I had too many thoughts floating through my head to fully concentrate on everything I was supposed to be doing. I didn’t want to go to New York. I didn’t believe it would be a new start for us, even if it was where everything began. I had no illusions that we could recapture any of the magic that we had shared before. The way I felt when he touched me tonight had not rekindled any feelings of affection or desire. All I felt was sad and cold. What did that foretell for any future we could have together? Here or anywhere else?
Distracted, I made the mistake of frying the chicken while I steamed the broccoli, before I mashed the potatoes. When I realized what I had done, I quickly mashed the potatoes, and whipped them with the hand mixer for a lot less time than I normally did and didn’t make sure they were as smooth they could be, in an effort to get everything on the plate while it was still hot.
Once I had everything on the table, I called Vance in to eat. His good mood seemed to have waned a little after working in his office for the last hour, but it hadn’t completely dimmed. He examined his plate with a satisfied look.
“I’m really looking forward to this, Mimi. I’ve been thinking about it all day,” he said with a big grin.
He lifted his chicken to his mouth and took a big bite. The look in his eyes changed instantly as he chewed. He wiped his mouth with his napkin, spitting his food into it discreetly. I took a delicate bite of my own food, to see what was wrong with it. Other than being slightly cool, I could taste nothing wrong.
He then took a forkful of mashed potatoes, and put it into his mouth. That’s when all hell broke loose.
Chapter Thirteen
Present Day
After succumbing to my tears, I wipe my face and pull it together. I can’t stay another minute in this place. Vance is a danger to me and every second I stay is a second too long. I’ll come back for my things tomorrow while he’s at work. I can pick up toiletries that I’ll need tomorrow at a local store, but I need to get out now and find a place to stay for the night. I turn off the kitchen light and quickly walk through the living room, swiping my purse and car keys off the side table by the front door. I quietly open the front door and slip out into the night. Once the door is closed behind me, I flee as fast as my feet will carry me to the safety of my car and jump inside. I lock all my doors, stick my keys in the ignition and back out of the driveway as fast as I can. I don’t care at this point if he hears me leaving. I am out of the house, out of the immediate reach of his violent hands, and if he wants to get at me now, he will have to run me off the road.
I drive across Los Angeles, over the hill into the San Fernando Valley, stopping only at drug store to pick up some cheap shampoo, conditioner, deodorant, a toothbrush and toothpaste. After driving around a little longer, I eventually check into a Hilton in the west valley. Once safely in my room, I take the hottest shower I can stand, letting the water beat down on my sore muscles for long minutes before reaching for the tiny bar of hotel soap and scrubbing every square inch of my skin. I wash my hair twice, before I complete my shower. After drying off and putting my sweatshirt and leggings back on, I’m grateful that I chose such comfortable clothes when I changed in the laundry room. I’ll be able to sleep in them, and they won’t look any worse than they already do when I have to wear them again tomorrow. My only regret is that I don’t have fresh underwear with me, but all things considered, I think I can suffer a pair of day old panties this one time.
I turn off the lights and climb under the covers. The bed is comfortable, but I can’t sleep. I keep having visions of Vance tackling me to the floor and mauling me like an animal. Only, in my thoughts, I’m not able to fight him off. It’s an endless cycle of what if…what if…what if? I toss and turn for what seems like hours. Around midnight, the muffled sound of “Marry Me” begins playing repeatedly from the depths of my purse. I never changed his ringtone, even after things began to fall apart. It was one of the things I held onto, a happy reminder of our past, a romantic memory of the man he used to be. I don’t bother to get up and answer his calls or to even shut the phone off. I just let it ring until it finally falls silent, sometime after one-thirty. He never leaves a message.
When the sun finally rises, so do I. I order a pot of coffee from room service and make arrangements with the front desk to stay another day. Fully caffeinated, I go into the bathroom and take photographs of my injuries from Vance’s attack last night. The bite mark on my neck and five distinct finger prints around my throat are the most obvious. There are a number of bruises and scratches on my chest and waist where he tore at my clothes, and a few on my arms where I fought against him, but the ones on my neck are those that really tell the story.
Once eight o'clock rolls around, I leave the hotel and drive back over the hill to my office to speak with my one of my bosses, Bob Miller. Both of the partners at my firm are great men, but Bob, who is the managing partner, is my favorite. His partner and my direct supervisor, Steve Dickerson, is nice, but all business. He is the driving force behind the firm, always out networking, seeking more cases to take on, and the reason behind the continuing success of the
company. Bob has the personal touch. He is always taking the time to make sure the employees are happy, that office morale is good, and makes us all feel like we are a family. Either one of them would help me with this problem, but Bob is the one who will care about me in the process and hold my hand figuratively (and literally) if I need it.
When I arrive, I walk straight back to Bob’s office, which means I have to traipse past the whole work floor to get there. My appearance gains me some odd looks from the secretaries, but thankfully no one says anything to me about it.
I stop to check with Sheila, Bob’s long time secretary, to see if he is available. Fortunately for me, he doesn’t have anything on the schedule all day. She waves me back, and I go straight in. He doesn’t stand on formality. We’re never required to be announced or knock, he always maintains an open door policy for the employees.
As I enter the office, he looks up from his computer and his mouth drops in shock. “Good lord, Mimi. What the hell happened to you? Come here, sit down and tell me everything this instant.”
I fall into one of his guest chairs and look at him for a few moments. I want to open my mouth and let it all fall out, but this is harder than I expected. Finally, I say, “I really don’t know where to begin.”
“How about who gave you those bruises and that nasty bite mark on your neck, and if you have any other injuries I should know about,” he says, pulling a legal pad toward him and a picking up a pen.
I take a big breath, and letting it all out in a rush, I say, “Vance did it.”
He drops his pen and looks at me in shock. “Vance? How long has this been going on, Mimi?”
“Last night was the first time he was ever physically violent with me. He’s been verbally abusive for about the last six months, and has been violent in that he started throwing things around somewhere in that time.”
“Oh my dear, I had no idea things were bad at all. You’ve always seemed so much in love. I wish you would have come to me earlier so we could have done something about this, gotten you out of this,” he says genuinely.
Shattered Perfection (The Perfection Series Book 1) Page 19