by DC Renee
“We’re home. Need help?”
She looked around the car as if not realizing where she was before her eyes settled on me. They were wide and filled with surprise. “I’m fine.” She got out of the car as I followed her to the door.
“I’m supposed to wake you up every two hours.”
“Well, that sucks,” she pouted. It had been almost endearing, like a child. I actually felt bad for her.
“You don’t want to wake up every two hours? You and me both.”
“Then why are you doing this?”
“Because someone has to and I’m your husband.”
“Only in name.”
“You’re mine to take care of.” I raised my voice.
“I’m no one’s.” It was the inflection in her voice; the shaky timbre that had me biting back my response. It could have sounded snarky, like defiance, as if she was independent, but the way she said it, it was crushed. “I’ll never be anyone’s,” she mumbled lowly.
I didn’t like the way this conversation was going, so I changed the subject.
“Look, having to wake up right after you finally fall asleep doesn’t sound like fun to me, so let’s call some kind of temporary truce and do something instead.”
The hopeful look in her eyes at my words had me fighting a smile. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. Do I look like a babysitter with ideas spewing out of my ass?”
“I don’t need to be babysat.”
“Yeah, you actually do. Every two hours, remember?”
“I’ll set an alarm myself.”
“Jesus, Paige. I just called a truce; give up that attitude, all right?”
“All right,” she spoke quietly. “What do you want to do?”
“Watch TV?”
“I might fall asleep.” We both seemed to ponder, standing on opposite sides of the room. “How about a game?” she asked sheepishly.
“What kind of game?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never really played any games.”
“What?” I asked in surprise. She looked at me shamefacedly as if she had done something wrong. “What kind of games are we talking about? Video games, but I can see girls not really doing that. Or like hide and seek because if you say no, I’ll be shocked, but I’m not doing that. Sorry, no can do. Board games?”
She started laughing and the sound traveled through my spine down to my dick. Then she winced and I felt like an ass. “I’ve played the kiddie stuff. Never played a video game, but yeah, I guess that’s more common than not playing board games.”
“You never played Monopoly or anything like that?”
“Oh, and I suppose you have.”
“Yeah,” but I might as well have said, “Duh.”
“By the time I was old enough to really play board games, I didn’t have time. I spent it all trying to get good grades and make my parents proud.”
“I’m sure they were if you didn’t have the time to be a kid.”
“Not really,” she admitted with a shrug, but the light sheen in her eyes said she was anything but indifferent. “I was no Nora. Never have been, never will be.”
“Nora’s got nothing on you.” Maybe it was the sad look in her eyes or the tight smile she was trying to hold but I wanted to make her feel a little better. It had been the truth, too. I had seen Nora. She was stunning, all shapely curves and long legs, but something about Paige put Nora to shame.
Paige blushed, ducked her head, and didn’t respond. It was starting to get a bit awkward, so I interrupted the tension. “So how about Monopoly?”
She beamed as if I had offered her the world with no strings attached. It actually made my jaded heart beat out of rhythm.
The night had turned out to be one I didn’t anticipate. I found myself smiling despite my best efforts not to. I couldn’t help it. It was like putting the hate I had for Paige on hold allowed me to see a different side of her. I had never spent the night with a girl that didn’t involve sex, and most of the time, I didn’t spend the night at all. I slipped out after they were asleep or someone escorted them out after I got my fill and they got theirs. This had been a pleasant change. Spending time with Paige was considerably different from hanging out with my friends. She was soft spoken, nice to look at, and didn’t hesitate to call me a cheater on several occasions, her singsong voice giggling as she did so.
She even divulged more about her life, specifically her younger years. I had always painted a different picture of her life than what the little information I got from her that day showed. I imagined a cute, bubbly little princess; instead, I realized she had been somewhat neglected and longing for love, which made this entire situation all that more bizarre. Why would she want to marry someone she didn’t know or care about and inflict more pain on herself? Did she hope this would turn into a fairy-tale romance? Because I didn’t do fairy tales, and I certainly didn’t do romance. And although I put my anger aside for that day, I certainly didn’t do fairy-tale romances with Paige.
I kept her awake for twenty-four hours, playing Monopoly and other board games until I never wanted to see another board game again. I crashed the minute the time was up and slept like the dead. And as soon as we woke up next, our truce was over. You’d think it would be hard for me to turn my feelings on and off like that, but I had learned how to do that very easily while growing up with my family, specifically with my dad. He was no father of the year and never would be. I just hoped I’d never be him. But the way Paige looked at me after our ceasefire was over, I was pretty sure the asshole gene had been passed on to me. I was no saint. I had my moments of goodness that I attributed to the teachings my mom had instilled in me and had apparently stuck despite my best efforts, so the sooner Paige got rid of any hope that she had of possibly saving me, the better. I was who I was, and she’d continue to be a thorn in my side. Still, every time I thought about that Monopoly night, I smiled a genuine, heartfelt smile. It had been a good night, and I was glad I had it.
Fifteen
Paige
After my little car almost died on me during my final, I was afraid I’d be left without transportation. I was afraid I’d have to fork over my meager savings to either fix my baby or buy another deathbed car. Luckily, a friend of a friend of Chandra’s knew a thing or two about cars. He fixed up my Civic to its former crappy position for free. I just had to pay for the parts he replaced. I knew it was only a matter of time before it would actually decide it needed to leave this Earth, but I hoped it wouldn’t be for a while. I certainly never expected it to say bye in the way it did … with a freaking tire blowout and a concussion for me.
I was driving home from work, minding my own business, when something popped and my car swerved. I tried to take back control by pulling on the steering wheel—which apparently, folks, was not what you were supposed to do. The car decided it was angry with me, and then I spun out of control, hit the barrier on the right, and I momentarily blacked out. It sounds like a series of pictures, but that was how I pretty much remembered it. Just frames, maybe small snippets of video, rather than the big picture. I guess I was lucky no one else got hurt, but someone was nice enough to call 911, and I ended up in the hospital.
I didn’t know why I figured fate would be kind to me in the face of that little situation, but apparently, the universe thought my life was one big joke. That was clearly why the hospital called Enzo to come get me. When I first saw him, I was … well, shock was an understatement. Awestruck was maybe a better word. And I used that term in the way a fangirl finally got a glimpse of her absolute favorite movie star. I couldn’t believe Enzo had actually come to the hospital for me. He stood in the doorway, his body glowing from the bright lights of the hospital, his eyes drawing me to him. He truly looked like a movie star right then. And then reality hit. Enzo came to the hospital for me. What was he up to? Oh, wow! He probably was wondering if I was dead and maybe came to see if he was free of me.
Turned out, I was close in my assumptions. He
had come to gloat and to hold this over my head. I dreaded leaving with him, but Enzo always seemed to get his way. And no matter how hard I fought it, no matter how many times I told myself that he wasn’t going to hurt me any more than he already had—and he had given me no indication these sentiments were false—I couldn’t help but fear him. I had felt somewhat broken all my life but never had that been more apparent than when I tried to argue a point with Enzo. He’d tower, and I’d cower. That should have been the slogan for our marriage. That or maybe “I hate you.” Either worked just fine.
And then Enzo surprised me. He put aside his feelings and forced me to put aside mine. He spent an entire evening and night entertaining me, ensuring I was okay after my concussion. It had been hard to stay awake, and I could see the tired glaze covering his eyes every time he yawned, but he didn’t complain; he didn’t say anything about it. In fact, he was quite the opposite. He was kind and surprisingly funny.
“Oh, my gosh! You cheater!” I told him several times while we played Monopoly. I knew it was probably boring for him, but having never played it before, I was having a blast. I felt like a kid again; one who hadn’t spent all her time trying to live up to her sister’s achievements. And oddly, I was glad I could share this moment with Enzo. It sort of felt like he might have understood the lack of family warmth, although we didn’t touch on that too much. Well, I did on my part, but he kept a closed lid on his family relations. But every time he asked me about a childhood memory or a moment with my parents and I recalled the events, I could see the flicker of recognition there. I’d like to say that night brought us closer, and maybe for just that one night, it did. I felt something for Enzo I never had before – appreciation.
The very next day, things went back to normal, and it was very easy to fall back into my usual hate for Enzo. If I had to admit, though, a tiny bit of myself acknowledged that Enzo wasn’t all bad. There was some lingering morsel of goodness in him. Unfortunately, his bad outweighed his good. The thing was, not many horrible moments stood out. He was just generally nasty. His tone was always abrasive, even when he probably thought he was being civil, and he’d yell for no particular reason. I’d catch him scowling at me practically all the time and I felt like an underlying current of tension was just waiting to be released. He had given me plenty of reasons to think he’d hurt me – it was just a matter of time – yet he’d also given me no reason to think so. The fact was he had hurt me; he had violated me, degraded me, misused me in one of the worst ways possible, but I had managed to file that night into a box and push it into the recesses of my mind. He was altogether scary, yet as outwardly afraid as I was, I also wasn’t.
I say there weren’t that many days that were prominent in my memory of Enzo’s harsh attitude, but there were a few. About a month after the car accident, I came home from work just in time to see Gerry leaving our home. He had never come by before that I knew of, so I was curious to see why he was there.
In movies, there was specific music to foreshadow doom. In books, there was a heavy tension in the air. In real life, there was none of that. I walked into the house same as I did almost every day. There was an overwhelming silence permeated only by the lull of the TV in the living room. That sounded gloomy to an outsider, but my home always felt that way. It wasn’t cheery; it wasn’t cozy. It was just a place where I coexisted with an asshole.
I typically ignored Enzo, but on days I was feeling especially lonely, I made my way to the kitchen and cooked in silence. At least, I was near another person – namely my husband as he loved to constantly point out, conveniently forgetting he didn’t want to be. I often wondered why he didn’t just tell his dad he didn’t want to marry me, but from his ramblings, I got that hadn’t really been an option.
I found Enzo sitting at the dining table nursing a glass of whiskey, the bottle next to him half-empty.
“Um,” I started, not sure what to say, but this hadn’t been characteristic behavior. “I just saw your dad leave. Is everything all right?”
He ignored me. Now that was characteristic behavior. It pissed me off. Here I was asking if he was okay for about the first time in our so-called relationship and he was being an ass.
“Enzo,” I spoke a little harsher. His head snapped up and he looked at me as if he hadn’t realized I was standing there for the past few minutes.
“What do you want?” he barked out.
“I, um, I saw your dad leaving,” I stuttered, losing my momentary self-confidence.
“Congratulations. You saw my dad leaving. You want a fucking cookie? Maybe a gold medal. What the fuck do you want from me?”
“Are you okay?” I asked, genuine concern filling me. I was used to this behavior from Enzo, but I had a feeling this wasn’t entirely geared toward me.
“Am I okay?” He laughed bitterly. “Am I okay?” he repeated. “No, little girl. I am not okay.” He stood up abruptly, causing the chair he was sitting in to topple over. I jumped back and he scowled.
“I am forced, day in and day out, to be in your presence, to be in the sham of a marriage because you thought this would be some grand fucking fairy tale. Poor little girl marries a rich prince and they live happily ever after, right? Am I getting close, little girl? You wanted this goddamn life, and now that you have it, you don’t like it. Then get out. Get the fuck out and leave me the hell alone,” he screamed, and then took a step closer. I took one back.
“I can’t,” I whispered.
“Fuck you, Paige.” He cursed like a sailor and “fuck” was his favorite word, but he had never directed it toward me. It hurt more than anything he’d ever said. It broke something inside me, yet it also brought out the little bit of fight I had left.
“No, Enzo, fuck you!” I screamed. I rarely cussed and I certainly didn’t say “fuck,” but it felt so good to say it just then until I saw his eyes narrow and then practically turn black as he processed my words.
“What in the hell did you just say?”
“I said fuck you,” I spoke calmly. “I’m stuck here just the same as you. You have no right to take whatever bullshit is stewing inside you out on me. I don’t want this life. I never have and I never will. I want a husband who will cherish me, love me, be everything I need. You are none of those things, and thanks to you, I’ll never get that dream. You tell me to ‘suck it up’ all the time. Well, guess what? This is your life just the same as it’s mine. So suck it up!”
It was just as I finished saying the last word that I felt the whiz of the glass sail by me and then crash against the wall near me.
I stood frozen as Enzo growled, his chest heaving, his eyes looking more like a ferocious animal than human . I didn’t dare look at where the glass had shattered. I couldn’t move. Seconds felt like years until Enzo seemed to calm down just enough to speak, his voice low, menacing almost.
“I didn’t miss.” I understood exactly what he was saying. He didn’t need to clarify, but he seemed to feel the need to. “That glass didn’t miss its target. I won’t hit you, Paige, but you’re making it very difficult not to want to. Don’t you ever speak to me like that again.” His voice trailed off, leaving an unknown promise lingering in the air. I could only nod in acknowledgment. “Get the fuck out of my sight before I end up doing something I regret.” I couldn’t move at first, stuck in the spot with fear. “Go!” he screamed, and I seemed to wake up. I ran to my room as fast as I could. I went to bed that night without dinner.
Sixteen
Enzo
I remembered a time when I loved my dad. I was young, and I had a family. We would go on trips together; my dad taught me to throw a ball; we played childish games together, watched TV together, all those fantastically cliché things that happy families did. Things started to subtly change around the time I was first sent to boarding school. I was always smarter than my classmates were, so I got bored easily at school. That meant I was “acting up.” After a few years in grade school and plenty of complaints, I was sent to boarding school.<
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I begged my parents to let me stay. I promised I’d be better, do more in school, anything they wanted, but according to my dad, they were fed up. I could see my mom trying to talk to my dad, I could hear her trying to convince him, but he’d made his mind up and that was that. To say my dad was the head of the household was an understatement. He was the head, the rear, and the everything between. I loved my mother more than anything in this world, but even I wasn’t so blind to see that he ruled over her with an iron fist. I never understood why she didn’t stand up to him, but I loved her regardless. Maybe that was why I appreciated when Paige fought me. Even as she pissed me off, her defiance impressed me.
When I stepped foot in my first boarding school, I vowed to show my dad that I could be a model student and then he’d be forced to bring me home. I did that for about two years and constantly begged to come home. I missed my parents, even my dad. I hated being away from my family. My dad kept saying, “We’ll see.” It was after those first two years of monthly “We’ll see” with no results that I came to realize that I was never coming home. Years later, I found out my dad figured it was the structure that had disciplined me and was afraid that if I came home, it would all fall apart. I couldn’t blame him for thinking that way when I was older, but as a little kid, I hated him. I reverted to my old ways, stopped paying attention in school, and eventually, started partying instead. When that happened, my dad didn’t want me coming home. I guess I couldn’t blame him for that too much either, but like my dad, he should have seen I was acting out because I craved his attention, love, and acceptance. I never got that, so I continued on my merry way.
Our relationship was strained. I never felt like I could rely on him, and the distance from only seeing each other on holidays made us grow apart. My mother, however, phoned me at least once a week, came out to see me on weekends, and sent care packages I would never admit that I loved.