by Amy McKinley
She was more animated then normal, and I laughed as I asked her, “Are you drinking?”
“A little. I ordered a glass or three of wine with room service.”
Room service sounded good—no cooking and delivery to the door. Even so, there was no way I was encouraging her with details about my date. “That’s it. Just a kiss. The rest of the time, we surfed or walked along the shore. It was peaceful, relaxing.” And intoxicatingly enjoyable whenever he touched any part of me. “We had sandwiches for lunch. Seriously, it was low-key.”
“You’re not telling me everything. Are you secretly in his bedroom and lying to me about it?”
“Oh my God, Ava! I’m in my apartment. Alone. We’re taking things slow.” Or trying to. At that point, I didn’t trust myself. I wanted to throw caution to the wind. I guessed there was a first time for everything, as no other man had ever made me feel like Xander did. I needed a change of subject. “When are you coming home?”
A long, suffering sigh filtered through from her end. “Saturday. In time for your graduation.”
“About that.” I wasn’t sure what her opinion would be, especially with her filters lowered by her wine consumption. “I’m not going.”
I pulled my laptop over and logged in to my school account while we talked, and I waited for Ava to digest my last bit if news. A quick scan of my emails and I found one from the TA for Charles’s class. I confirmed the time and date he’d set up for the test then logged back out.
There were several seconds of silence before she spoke, her voice lacking the teasing edge from earlier. “Don’t let one asshole dictate your actions or take away from missing out on an experience you’ll regret later.”
My eyes blurred, and I rubbed at them with my free hand. “I’m not. I won’t regret skipping it. I only would if I didn’t receive my degree.”
“You can’t let any man mandate what you want out of life. They should fall in line with your goals.” Ava’s voice hardened. “It’s your destiny, your ultimate choice for the future you want. That should be the lesson learned from dating the professor.”
Something good had come out of dating Charles. I’d learned exactly what I wanted and found it with Xander. He was the future I wanted.
19
Riley
I was tired as I trudged up the last few steps to the third floor after a short Sunday shift at the Coffee Hut. My legs ached from all the surfing and swimming Xander and I had done the day before. He wanted me to go today, too, but I couldn’t because of work.
Footfalls sounded as someone ran up the stairs behind me. My legs shook, and I froze, unsure where to go or whether it would be best to dive inside my apartment or run. I waited like a deer in headlights, my breath caught in my throat as the noise came closer. Melanie exited the stairwell, and I sagged against my door, the thought of why she was there slow to come.
Cropped tawny hair swung around her pretty face, barely brushing her shoulders. A timid smile curved her lips, and she offered a small wave. “Hey, I hope you don’t mind that I followed you, but I wanted to talk to you.”
“I don’t mind. Did you want to come in?” I waved at my door, hoping she would say yes.
“No. This will only take a second, and I have homework to finish.”
I waited for her to continue, curious about what she was doing.
“I wanted to apologize to you about calling you a slut. I really liked Charles, and when I found out you were dating him, too, it was too much. I mean, I love him.”
Oh crap. “I’m not dating him anymore, Melanie. But you know he’s married, right?”
“I do. That doesn’t mean that my feelings are gone, though.” Her hazel eyes were rimmed with tears, and she sniffed. “Anyway, I’ve got to run, but it was bothering me that I let things get out of hand. Forgive me?”
“Sure. I’ll see you at work.”
She gave me another wave and brushed a rogue tear away as she hurtled back into the stairwell. I pushed out a breath and urged myself to face my apartment again. My hand shook as I reached for the doorknob, giving myself a stern lecture that everything would be all right. But the break-ins were always in the back of my mind. I wondered who it had been and if they were coming back or waiting for me inside.
Maybe I should have called off of work and stayed the weekend with Xander. Aside from the balcony, my place wasn’t a sanctuary any longer. Anxiety spiked every time I came home. I took several deep breaths before I let myself enter.
Once inside, I shut and locked the door behind me then did a scan from corner to corner. It looked okay and like no one had been there. But the damage to my psyche had been done, and black spots danced in my peripheral vision. I dropped onto a chair and put my head between my legs until the feeling passed. The push and pull to go into my apartment but not wanting to had been too similar to what had happened to me before. The memories I most dreaded kept trying to resurface.
I shoved out of the chair and went in search of my book for a distraction. I couldn’t deal with the memories of any part of that day from when I was young. I grabbed a glass of water and the book and headed to the lanai. It was the only place I liked to be, the most comfortable place in my violated apartment.
I sat, flipped the book open to where I last left off, and got to reading. I could see why Ava liked it so much. The tension was high, and the characters were likable so far—I had a feeling that would soon change. But it was nice to get lost in the fictional married couple and their quaint existence in a cookie-cutter neighborhood.
Even though the characters were happy, and things seemed innocent, I knew that everything would change, given the tagline and book description.
After several chapters, my eyelids drooped, and exhaustion settled in. In my sleep, it was harder to stave off the past. Images flooded my mind, taking me back to that cold day when my mom told me to stay outside until she called me back in.
I’d huddled in the corner of our neighbor’s backyard playhouse and grew a tiny bit warmer without the wind pummeling me. It was quieter there, but I could still hear the shouting from my house. My stomach hurt, and I wanted my mom.
A loud boom echoed through the back of the house, spilling out from the weathered cracks in the siding and from the gap under the back door. Jerking to my feet, I took a step forward, unsure. The urge to run had me in a choke hold. Another ear-piercing crash split the silence. Mom? Her warning to stay outside evaporated, and I raced from the sheltered playhouse to the back door and yanked it open.
I skidded to a halt in the kitchen. Broken pieces of glass crunched under my boots. There was a red substance on the door that went into the TV room, like one of my finger paints but smeared. It smelled like the pennies Mom and I used to play with for a counting game, but that wasn’t it. My teeth chattered as my body quaked violently. Something warm soaked down the inside of my jeans. Fear held me to the same spot. I wanted my mom.
There was no noise. I had to be quiet. She wouldn’t be mad that I peed my pants. But he would. I tiptoed to the door, not wanting to touch it or to see what was on the other side.
I jerked in my chair, and the book in my lap fell with a thump. I sucked air into my lungs like a drowning victim. A warm breeze dried my wet cheeks. The distant roll of cresting waves further soothed my frantic mind, reminding me that my memory happened in the past. I was in Hawaii, safe from the memories. My gaze dropped to the book, and I retrieved it from the floor and set it on the table beside me.
It had taken so long to absolve myself of thinking that if I’d only gone inside when Dad told me to, Mom would still be alive.
My therapist had urged me to meditate in times of stress, if possible, to keep the flashbacks at bay. After years of counseling and practicing the poses, it had helped so much that I had been able to move forward and live my life free of guilt and pain. The experience was centering. I had time. The images were progressively getting worse, and I knew what I would see soon if I didn’t calm down and strengthen my ment
al barriers.
After about a half hour of meditation on my screened-in balcony, I felt marginally better. I curled back up on my chair, letting the sound of the waves soothe me. Even with the balmy air and lush Hawaiian scenery, I felt empty, alone, and nostalgic—not a good combination. I shifted so that my knees were tucked beneath me and picked up my phone. It was a weak moment, and I knew it, but I did it anyway. I unblocked Charles.
The phone lit up as a slew of texts from that morning downloaded. I skimmed them. Some were apologetic. My stomach clenched at the futility of it all. I texted back wife then re-blocked him.
Seconds passed. I thought responding would make me feel better. I didn’t. Instead, the emptiness expanded, ushering in a sense of drowning. It wasn’t that I wanted to get back together. It was the loss of the friendship that we’d shared. I lurched from my chair and paced the length of the outdoor space.
I needed to get a grip on my erratic thoughts. Worrying my lower lip, I picked up my cell again, wondering whether I would seem desperate if I called Xander. Screw it. I pressed his contact and put the phone to my ear. I was balancing on the edge, and hearing his voice would chase away all of the day’s unpleasantness.
He answered on the third ring. “Hey, Riley. I’m glad you called.”
I grinned at the genuine happiness I heard in his voice. “What are you up to?” I wanted him to tell me he was in the neighborhood, and that he would stop by, but I didn’t think that was likely.
“Inspecting a roof and making plans for the repair.”
“Ah, on your family’s island. I bet it’s gorgeous there today.”
“It is. The waves are begging for us to ride them. You should come by. Say the word, and I’ll pick you up.”
“I want to, but…” I sighed but gave in to the fantasy. “Sweeten the deal with a piña colada after we’ve spent a couple hours in the water, and I’m there.”
He laughed, and I shivered at how his voice worked over every inch of me.
“That could be arranged.”
I wish. But we both had stuff to get done. We talked for an hour. He invited me to the island on Friday with the option to stay the weekend. He was persuasive and charming as usual, and I agreed. If I wanted to come back in time for graduation, then I would. I wasn’t sure I wanted to, though, as Charles would be there too.
With that heavy thought, I packed up my stuff from the veranda and went inside for the night. I had just enough energy to make a sandwich then climb into bed.
20
Riley
Monday afternoon, I met with Charles’s TA and took the last exam. The TA promised to let me know the score I got on the test. Then all I had to do was pay close attention to my grades to make sure Charles didn’t pull anything. Graduation was the following Sunday.
Most grad students were in a frenzy, turning in their assignments and studying for whatever tests or quizzes remained. I was thankful for the photography experience I had already. It gave me a leg up and took most of the stress away. I was used to working hard to make ends meet when I was in college, hustling for representation, and editing late into the night. Grad school was still difficult, but it was manageable for me.
There were only a few more touch-ups to do on my grad project, then the portfolio would be complete. I would turn it in early the next morning, and then I was officially done. I’d decided not to attend the graduation ceremony and thought about celebrating with shopping on Sunday instead.
The timer beeped on the oven, and I took out a single-serving lasagna. I’d skipped breakfast, running late to cover my last shift at the Coffee Hut. Jeffery had found someone with barista experience who could start right away and gave me the option to fulfill my two weeks or not. I went with not.
I was lucky that he, Chloe, and I were friends, and that he was cool about my leaving. College students were always looking for work, and he had applications piling up on his desk, anyway. It all worked out.
The only thing that hadn’t sat right with me was when they’d both asked if I’d heard from Mel. Apparently, she hadn’t shown for her shift, and they hadn’t been able to reach her. It was odd but no longer my problem, and I put it from my thoughts.
The smell of Italian food filled my small kitchen, and my mouth watered. With my food on a plate and the oven off, I settled at the peninsula and dug in. A light mist and thick gray clouds darkened the sky, and my mind strayed to my phone call with Xander from the night before.
I wouldn’t have minded watching him while he worked on the house. I’d already had the pleasure of witnessing him on a surfboard. The image was permanently seared into my brain.
Spending the weekend with him was a big step. My body temperature shot up with the thought, and I could barely make myself wait until Friday. But if I wanted to go—and I did—I would have to finish everything on my end first.
After cleaning up the dishes, I got to work on editing the last few pictures of the flowers I’d taken the day Charles accosted me on campus. My stomach clenched at the thought of that last confrontation and the texts, and I took a few deep breaths. His desperation to keep things going didn’t make sense. Even though I hadn’t known about his wife, the guilt over dating a married man was enough to keep me far away. Unblocking him the day before, even for that short amount of time, had been a mistake I wouldn’t repeat.
An hour passed, and I finished with my grad project. With everything in order and ready to deliver the next morning, I had free time to read. I picked up the hardcover book and immediately got lost in the pages. Chills raised the tiny hairs on the back of my neck.
Damn him. I swiped at the tear that escaped. Did I mean so little to him? The blinds slipped from my fingers from the empty office building across from his. I crossed my arms tight over my waist. Married for two years, and this was the thanks I got? I peeked through the metal slats. The young blond intern had her hand on his bicep as she leaned into him, her head tilted invitingly. He dipped his head down, and I staggered back a step. He kissed her!
Fury boiled in my gut, and my nails cut crescent moons into my arms. We’d taken vows. He was mine.
I stood frozen at the window, watching them.
I would make her pay. She would come to realize that she’d trespassed. My lips twitched. Not yet. I wanted to play with her a little.
A plan took shape, and I giggled. I didn’t mind the game I would take part in. Someone had to teach them both a lesson and remind Brad of his promise.
One week had passed since I’d first spotted the little home-wrecker. Men were weak. I partially expected something like this. The problem was that I hadn’t thought it would happen so soon. No matter. In her apartment building, I shifted to the balls of my feet, ready for the perfect moment.
I’d learned her routine while Brad was busy at his dental practice. I worked part-time in billing, making sure the hygienists knew who I was. They thought I was kind, caring. It was the image I wanted them to have. The interns weren’t there on the days I was, which was probably by Brad’s design.
After I found out about their affair, I hacked his phone and installed an app that would let me see any messages he sent. They communicated often. Today, they planned to spend a few hours together because I would be at book group. She’d told him to bring wine, and that she would be the dessert. Stupid and cliché. Did she have no imagination?
It wasn’t hard to find out where she lived. When she was expected home, early evening, I hid in the apartment complex close to where she would round one floor then climb the next.
Her perky voice carried up the stairs while she chatted on the phone. My fingers tightened around the bat. I was ready. Blond ponytail swinging, she came closer. I dropped a penny. It bounced down the steps, distracting her. She pivoted with her gaze on the penny, not me.
I swung. The bat connected with her shoulder then clipped part of her head. She flew back, and her feet left the ground. Her cell phone flipped through the air. An ear-piercing scream echoed off the walls
as she tumbled down the stairs to land, unmoving in a heap at the bottom.
People would’ve heard. I slipped the bat under my long trench coat, grateful for the misting rain, so it didn’t look out of place. My feet were soundless as I sped down the steps. I stepped over her unconscious form, pausing long enough to feel for a pulse at her neck.
She was alive.
No one would know who had pushed her down the stairs.
Doors opened in the building as I slipped out the front door. On the sidewalk, I blended in with a couple of people hurrying to their destinations with their heads bent against the weather. Phone in hand, I pressed Brad’s number and waited for him to pick up.
He didn’t. But his voicemail did, and I added extra sugar to my voice, so he didn’t hear the satisfaction I masked as I left a message. “Hi, honey. Book group was canceled tonight because Betty isn’t feeling well. I thought we could go to dinner and a movie. I made reservations at your favorite place. I’ll meet you there at six.” After disconnecting, I dialed his practice then left a similar message with his receptionist and a reminder for him to check his messages.
I had enough time to stop at home, freshen up, wash off, and hide the bat.
I slipped my phone back into my purse and grinned. This wasn’t the end of things with Blondie. I had more lessons to teach them.
It wouldn’t be long before Brad remembered the ironclad vow he’d made to me.
Unsettled, I closed the book and set it aside. It was hard to stop. The tension and uncertainty of what would happen next made me want to keep going, but being alone fed into my jitteriness from the post-traumatic memories I fought and the drama with Charles. No, I would wait to read more when I was somewhere I felt safe, which was with Xander.
I tugged at the hem of my T-shirt, toying with an idea. It was bold, but I was going for it. I sent him a text saying I would be free earlier this week and could come to the island as soon as Wednesday, if that worked.