“I know. I’m sorry. I was just kind of distracted, getting ready to go for lunch. Trying to remember everything you told me to say, so I wouldn’t forget anything.”
He gives a sort of half-nod. The excuse is acceptable. I’m a half-wit, after all. He glances at the patio; his gaze falls on the Adirondack chair where it’s not supposed to be and the screen propped against the house.
“What’s going on there?” he asks. “Did you do that?”
My guts clench. “I, er, yeah, I was going to take all the screens down. You know, for the winter. And I ran out of time.”
“Why would you want to take the screens down?”
“It’s just that I was, um, looking out the kitchen window and thought, that screen is dirty, I should take it down and clean it. And I might as well do all of them. And then I thought maybe they could be put away for the winter…”
He lifts a hand to silence me and says, “so you started on that one and left it at that?”
“Yeah, I, uh, shouldn’t have started it when I knew I’d have to leave…”
“Get that put away. It looks like someone was trying to break in. And why the fuck didn’t you close the window while you were at it?
“I thought you wanted it open,” I say, exhaling a long breath I didn’t know I was holding. “I’ll finish up with the screens first thing tomorrow.”
I open the door for him to go into the house ahead of me and follow him inside. He goes straight to his study to put his briefcase away. I hold my breath. Did I leave any evidence that I was in there? Any tell-tale signs like something out of place? I wiped the footprint off the credenza, but were there others I didn’t notice?
When he doesn’t come roaring out in a rage, I breathe easily again. Then I hear his footsteps on the stairs. When he comes back into the kitchen he’s in sweatpants and T-shirt. He gets a beer out of the fridge.
“Jenny in her room?” he asks.
“Yes. I wasn’t planning to have dinner ready before five but I can move it up now. Fifteen minutes?”
“Sure,” he says, but instead of going through to the family room to watch TV until dinner, he pulls up a stool on the far side of the peninsula and sits there watching me work. I turn the deep fryer on and get the French fries patted dry and put in the basket, ready to go into the oil when it’s hot enough. I turn to breading the meat. I feel his eyes on my back and wonder when he’s going to start in about me not calling him after lunch. My hands shake and the first schnitzel slips into the pan with a splash. A couple of drops of the hot oil hit my wrist. I bite my tongue and don’t let on that it hurt.
Finally, Derek says, “well? Are you going to tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“How your lunch went?”
“I couldn’t really…I mean, I told her everything you said…”
“You’re a piss poor liar, you know,” he interrupts. “Your phone wasn’t fuckin’ dead. You just didn’t want to tell me.”
“But I…”
“Never mind. I already know they’re not going to give me the retainer.”
I draw a sharp breath and turn to face him, expecting to see the black thundercloud expression he gets when he’s about to explode. Instead, he looks rather pleased with himself. “I also know you didn’t pay for lunch like I told you to.”
“I, er, you’re not mad?”
“No. It’s fuckin’ awesome, actually. Nelly called me. Nice gesture of respect, not letting you pay! And he said they would have given me the retainer but didn’t because they’ve decided to hire an in-house lawyer. Then Jackson comes into my office and says Nelly called him too, and was very very flattering. So my stock with Jackson has definitely gone up. He’s decided my charge-out rate is too low as I’ve been telling him for fuckin’ years, and he’s going to bump it up by fifty bucks an hour.”
“Oh, that’s awesome!”
“Yeah! And even better, instead of the firm keeping fifty-five percent of what I bill, effective immediately, this month even, their share of my fee is only fifty percent. So now that loan for my new boat should go sailing right through, no pun intended. And it’s thanks to my connection with Lita. I should give her a call to thank her.”
“Umm, sure, you should do that,” I agree. “But a loan?”
“How did you think I was going to get the new boat? The loans officer has been humming and hawing, yammering about my debt service ratio, their standards, blah blah. I told them I’ll give them a collateral mortgage on the house but that wasn’t good enough for them. And now my expected earnings going forward will be ten or fifteen percent more. Plenty of cash for my debt service ratio.” He drains his beer and says, “this calls for a proper celebration. I’m getting a Chivas. You want one?”
“Um, no thanks.” He’s asking me if I want a drink? Nullah must really have flattered him. Maybe me, too. But he still wants to buy a new boat? “Well, um, why do you need a new boat now that you know there’s, um, no retainer?”
He dismisses my question with a wave of his hand, stands and heads toward the liquor cabinet in the family room. At the top of the stairs he holds up and turns to face me.
“Okay. You don’t need to know this, but I’ll tell you anyway. I called about the loan as soon as I got the news, and they told me they’ll review my new financials next week and should have an answer for me Thursday or Friday. As soon I get the boat, I’m going to apply for the in-house position. It means quitting Jackson, Lambert and fucking Duffy, of course, but they can suck my balls. Nelly sang my praises to the moon, Carly! I show up in the new boat they’ll see I’m as well fixed as any of them. Of course I need the boat sooner rather than later. I thought I’d have to wait until after Christmas, but I’ll be able to close the deal before that now. We’ll invite Nelly and Lita out for a boat ride. I’ll be in a great bargaining position. I don’t need them, they need me. It’s a given I’ll get the job.” He takes a deep breath, clicks his tongue, and shrugs. “I won’t take it right away, of course. I’ll have to find out what the benefits are. There must be a pension, and how about extended dental and eyewear? Jennifer’s going to need braces, so I’ll make a point of asking if they cover orthodontics.”
He takes a few steps toward me, a cat-that-ate-the-canary expression on his face such as I don’t think I’ve ever seen before.
“Maybe I’ll get a boat that’s bigger than fuckin’ Nelly’s. Imagine that tied up to our dock! People will think, wow, the guy that owns that place must be really top shelf. Imagine how everyone will stare when I cruise along past the Lighthouse and Miller’s Landing and Stone’s Marina! Even over to the Dinghy Dock. I’ll join the Yacht Club. I’ll run for Commodore! Your husband is finally going to get the respect he deserves.” He gives a sharp nod as if to make it so. He turns and continues away, his body language reminding me so much of a cartoon clown I almost expect him to leap up and click his heels together.
My heart sinks. I’m stunned. Nullah said nice things about Derek? A new boat? Another drain on our finances, counting on a bigger paycheque and a new job? Does he even know what the in-house job pays? Another lien against the house. We’ll be drowning in debt. That may not bother Derek, but it cuts me to the core. I’m counting on my share of the equity in the house to give me a start when I leave him.
When I leave him? I’m actually considering leaving! Will I be able to go through with it? What makes me think I can? Just the fact I climbed through a window, admitted to Lita that he’s been beating me all these years, and stood up to my daughter? I must be losing my mind.
But having even such a wishy-washy plan, I feel good about myself. My future. Leaving won’t be easy, but I can do it! If that’s what losing my mind is like, I’ll keep it.
Nineteen
Lita
CHRISTMAS IS FAST approaching and I still have no clue what to get for Nullah. What family he has is in Australia. I called his sister, but since she hasn’t seen him in years and doesn’t know what he’s interested in now, other th
an when they Skype, he talks about me, his boat and his business. There is really nothing I could buy for either the boat or the business that he doesn’t already have. No help there. He only wears a tie about once a year, only when he goes to Toronto. He has a Smart watch he swears by. He doesn’t play video games. He doesn’t really have any hobbies other than fishing, and he’s got two tackle boxes full of stuff for that, even if I did know what to buy. Am I doomed to give him socks for our first Christmas together?
Nullah bought my present a week ago. The damn thing is wrapped and has been sitting on the fireplace mantel taunting me ever since. The box isn’t big, but then it’s not small, either. I expect it to be jewelry, but the box is a cube, more like a watch box. I, too, have a FitBit so I don’t think it’s a watch. It doesn’t rattle and it’s not very heavy.
He did a nice job of wrapping it. This morning, I casually mention how beautifully the gift is wrapped. He admits he had the people at the store wrap it.
“Oh yeah? What store wraps gifts?”
“Nice try,” he says. He gives me a quick kiss as I’m heading out the door. “Are you working late tonight?”
“Don’t think so. You?”
“Nothing pressing. I should be home at the usual time.”
“I’ve got a conference call this morning. Hopefully we can settle a file that’s been a pain in the ass. So I should be home by five. I’ll pick up Chinese on my way home.”
“Good. See you at dinner, then.”
It’s raining, but it’s only a dozen steps to the garage, so I don’t take an umbrella, I just run. As I drive toward town, I notice what might be a few white flakes mixed in with the rain. I wonder if I should’ve had winter tires put on my car as Nullah suggested weeks ago. I don’t even own a set of winter tires because my car came with all weathers, which is all you need on Vancouver Island, or so I thought. Nullah says that’s fine for around town, but now that I’m living out here, NFG in his opinion. He says he’ll take my car to his mate with the tire shop and get winter tires put on this weekend. He claims he’ll get a good deal and I don’t have to worry about paying because he’s on the barter system and will cover it. I’m beginning to realize Nullah always has some kind of connection to get a deal.
I settle into my office, open the file in readiness for the conference call, and decide to text Carly. I haven’t seen her since lunch at the Lighthouse, but lately we chat on the phone every day at about ten a.m., my usual coffee break time. I’m going to be on the phone at ten this morning so I quickly text her to let her know.
It was a surprise to learn Derek plans to apply for the non-existent in-house position. It’s unfortunate we didn’t think to tell him at the outset that the position was already filled, but then we assumed he’d think the job was beneath him. Now if we say it’s been filled, he’ll want to know who they hired. Nullah could say he’s not free to talk about it because the new hire hasn’t yet told their current employer or something. But I wouldn’t put it past the sneaky bastard to phone the company. And then there would be no new face next to the photos of the existing legal beagles on the Abbo Fitness website.
Who cares what Derek thinks? I wouldn’t, except if he took it as a snub he might blame it on Carly and we all know what the result of that would be. The lie has to grow, one way or another. Nullah suggested saying the position is in the Toronto office. I’ll phone her after the conference call to let her know.
I sigh and lean back in my chair. At least Carly has opened up about Derek abusing her. It must be easier to talk about it over the phone, probably because it’s more anonymous. She said one of the worst times was after Finn left their house, which was a couple of weeks before the four of us went for lunch at the Dinghy Dock, and that’s how she got the scar under her eye. But that was the last time, and he’s been like a changed man since.
The reason he’s been so mellow? It’s not because he’s seen the error of his ways, or got his temper under control. Oh god no, no positive introspection for that cretin! He thinks he’s Mr. Wonderful now. That he’s a shoo-in for the job. Carly says she has never seen him in such a good mood for such a long time. He even agreed to let her start going to yoga again. Not right away, but maybe in the spring. Ha! The bastard will never let it happen. But for some reason Carly believes him.
I have bouts of regret when I wish I had never agreed to reconnect with Carly. I worry his prolonged cheerful mood will lull her into a false sense of wellbeing, like the bad times are behind her and she’s safe. Not an unfounded worry, given the yoga thing. Then I have periods of optimism when I think I’ll be able to help her. Provide her with the moral support to get rid of the bastard. Whatever the reason, she’s more like the old Carly.
I’ve read the statistics. So many women murdered by their significant others, every month! Every day, actually. Even in Canada. Carly hasn’t said anything about a separation. I worry that she’s dragging her feet because she doesn’t believe me when I tell her abusers don’t stop abusing, especially now that he’s being so nice. I’m afraid she will stay with him until he kills her.
My phone rings and Nullah’s face pops up on the screen.
“Hi, babe,” he says as soon as I answer.
“Hey! I’m waiting on a conference call…”
“I know,” he says, and sighs. “This won’t take long. I just wanted to let you know what the slimy little bastard has done.”
“Slimy… Derek?”
“Yeah, Derek. Carly thinks he’s going to apply for the job?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, he has a funny way of ingratiating himself.”
“What do you mean?”
“Alvin called me this morning.”
“Alvin Benson? From the Yacht Club?”
“Yeah, Detective Alvin Benson. You won’t believe it but Wilton tipped them off that I was running drugs. Dealing out of the clubs.”
“What?”
“Yeah. In his tiny mind I race down to Mexico in my boat to pick up the goods. Cops have to look into it, of course. Benson already checked with the Harbour Master to confirm my boat has never been gone long enough for a trip like that, but he said they’d like to go over it just so they can show they’ve done their due diligence and close the file. I’m going over now to give them the keys.”
“Oh my god, Nullah!”
“He actually had the balls to ask about a reward. And he wants to be a C.I.”
“I’m sorry. I knew he was a bastard but I really didn’t imagine he’d ever come up with anything like this.” My desk phone rings. I glance at my watch and realize it’s likely the conference call I’ve been waiting for. “I can’t talk now, baby, but—this won’t be a problem for you, will it?”
Hesitation at his end of the line makes my guts clench.
“Will it?” I reiterate.
“No,” he says at last. “At least it shouldn’t. But you know, not all my friends are squeaky clean.”
I draw a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’ll call you as soon as I get off this call.”
“It’s okay. Cuzza this, I’ve got a lot of running around to do today. How about instead of you picking up Chinese, I meet you at The Crow and Gate for dinner?”
“Deal. See you there. Love you.”
“Love you,” he responds.
I touch the end call button and pick up the handset for the conference call as I struggle to get my brain into the file I’m hoping to settle. Not easy, with the news of Derek’s latest asshole deed swirling around in my head. And not all Nullah’s friends are squeaky clean? I guess if I’m honest, I knew some of them were a little sketchy. The bikers, especially. Everyone’s heard stories about them, and not many are about the Christmas Toy Rides.
Derek doesn’t realize it, but he may have stirred up a hornet’s nest.
Twenty
Carly
THE CAB DROPS me off at the curb right in front of London Drugs. I pay the driver in cash.
He says, “what, no chit today?”
“Want me to wait for you?”
“You could to that? But…”
“I won’t keep the meter running. I’ll wait over there,” he indicates another Yellow Cab at the edge of the parking lot closest to the casino. “I might get another fare before you’re done, but I might not, so when you come out, check to see if I’m still there.”
“Thanks! I’ll do that,” I agree, and head into the store. I know he’s only a cab driver, but he’s young and handsome and the way he looks at me makes me feel good. I have come to look forward to seeing him and I’m disappointed when it’s a different driver. Yeah, I’m that pathetic.
It’s been so long since I’ve been in London Drugs I’m disoriented. Eventually I see what I’m looking for. I’m standing looking at the tabletop display of a dozen tablets, overwhelmed. So this one, in my price range, is a 10.1 inch Android Tablet (Android 5.1 1280 x 800 Quad Core 2GB+32GB) / 64 / Mini USB / SIM Card Slot / TF Card slot / 3.5mm Earphone Jack. The only part of that I understand is the earphone jack. A sales associate comes along and offers to help. I tell her I was hoping to get an iPad, but they’re out of my price range. She assures me this android tablet will do the trick for me. It’s internet ready. She shows me how to open the settings, where I’ll need to enter our WIFI password, and then accompanies me to the cashier. I refuse the offered plastic bag and rush back outside. I’m in luck. The cab I came in is still waiting.
In less than two hours since leaving, I’m back home. I get my precious new tablet out of the box and all the packaging disposed of—Styrofoam and plastic in their respective recycling bins (Styrofoam broken up into discreet pieces of course)—the box on the burn pile and burned. No one will care about the fire at this time of the year, with everything so wet. I’ve been cleaning up the yard and piling branches and dead plant stuff there for weeks, so Derek won’t think anything of it. I made sure the box was completely destroyed and stirred the ashes before I left the fire to burn down.
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