Sworn Enemies, Secret Lovers

by Eve Rabi

  “I wanna go home!” I say and fight back tears of hopelessness.

  “This is home, bitch! Get used to it.”

  I look around the house, devoid of life and warmth. The thought of living here without my boys makes me want to scream like a deranged woman. “I can’t!”

  “If you even think about going back, I’ll destroy him. Bit by bit first, then I’ll hand him over. First, I’ll have some fun. Think of what I can do to him. A doctor with a drug habit? No more practicing medicine. A doctor in possession of kiddie porn? His face splashed on the front page of the newspapers? The evening news?” He whistles. “And he will hate you for what he has to go through, because it will be all your fault!” He smiles at his ingeniousness. “Pick up the phone and tell him it’s all over. Tell him you’re not coming back. Now!”

  Maybe if I did all he asks me to do over the next couple months and suck at it; then maybe, no more contracts will come my way. Maybe if I get really fat or look really awful, then he would soon abort his mission to squeeze me of every drop he can?

  “Okay … okay … I’ll do as you say, but I need to go back one last night to handle things, now that I’m not going to be seeing …”

  “No!”

  “Damien, please!”

  He shakes his head.

  “Please,” I sob. “I’ll do anything you want just give me this night. Please.”

  Damien thinks about it for a while. “On one condition. You tell him that you are leaving him for me. Tell him he was a mistake.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to end things between the two of you. I don’t want him thinking he has a chance with you. I don’t want him trying to be a hero and rescuing you from the clutches of your evil husband.”

  “How could I tell him that, Damien? It’ll destroy him. And he will not believe it anyway!”

  “Okay, then I’ll do it. You stay here. I’m dying to tell him that we’ve been fucking each other all –”

  “Don’t you dare, Damien!”

  “Then just do it! If he comes looking for you because you were not clear enough with him, I’ll shoot the bastard.” He walks toward the door and opens it. “Your house is still wired, so I’ll be listening, my golden goosey. I’ll allow you one more night, then he’s history. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at nine. I won’t be late – don’t you be. Shut the door on your way out, goosey.”

  After he leaves, I stare at the closed door and for more than an hour, I do nothing. Finally, with leaden legs, I drag myself home.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The rest of the day is a blur. On autopilot, I pick up Wyatt from daycare and spend most of the day holding and hugging him. There is no energy for anything else.

  If I could only talk to someone. Not Maya; she’s being dragged into something she wanted no part of and I can just imagine her reaction when she hears that Damien accused her of being an accomplice. She warned me, she begged me not to get involved with Reed, but I didn’t listen to her.

  Abeeda. She is the only one I can trust. She will understand. I call her.

  “I’m in trouble and I need your help, Abeeda,” I whisper.

  Being the dear friend she is, she drops everything and rushes over.

  We turn on the radio and speak in hushed whispers. When I tell her about Damien’s threats, she is horrified. “If Reedwan goes to prison, Megan, what will happen to little Wyatt? I mean, you will be in prison too.”

  “I dunno. My family …”

  “Do they know?”

  “No. Just Maya.”

  “Then you shouldn’t drag them into this mess. Damien may try to get to them too out of spite.”

  I nod slowly as the tears flow. “He’s already threatened to.”

  We talk for hours and when she leaves, her face is equally red and puffy.

  “I’ll be leaving at nine tomorrow. Can you be here for them? Like, time it so that you arrive just as I’m leaving, that way both of them have you to … comfort them?”

  “Of course. I will definitely be here for them.”

  “Just don’t let Damien see you.”

  “Okay.”

  When Reed arrives from work, it is an effort to act normal, but I do my best. It’s no use telling him anything now; I will wait until morning to do that.

  Around 7 p.m. I walk over to him. “Come lie with me in the bed.”

  He glances at the wall clock, then at me.

  “I feel like holding you,” I say, trying to stem the grimness in my voice.

  He goofs around. “Feel like holding me? What part of me? Please let it be below the …”

  I jerk him to the bed and lie facing him.

  “Your eyes… they’re swollen, Megan. You’ve been –”

  “Hay fever,” I whisper.

  “Hay fever?”

  I nod my head.

  He nods, but I can tell he’s not really buying that explanation.

  “I love you, Reed.”

  “I love you too,” he says and strokes my cheek. When his look turns grim, I try to make light of the situation, unable to bear the thought that his grimness will soon be turning to sadness and disappointment.

  “How much?” I ask.

  “Eh … ninety-nine hundred and fifty drillion?”

  I smile and kiss him. I think about making love to him, but I just can’t.

  “You sure you’re okay, Kitt?”

  “Yeah. Headache ...”

  He kisses my forehead. “Want a doctor?”

  I smile and rest my forehead on his chest. “Always.”

  He falls asleep, fully clothed in my arms.

  Unlike him, I’m wide awake. I creep out of his arms, cover him with a blanket, and kiss his face. Then I quietly pack a few things. Damien probably won’t let me wear any of the stuff I have here anyway.

  The band around my chest constricts tighter. I don’t have to imagine what life will be like without Reed and Wyatt – I know. I’ve been there.

  My wedding, my wedding dress, our hopes and dreams – all have to be put on hold. If possible, that is. Don’t know how Reed will handle this.

  The pain in my chest intensifies every time I breathe. Hours later, I’m back in bed, holding Reed.

  At around 5 a.m., in a zombie-like state, I pick up Wyatt and sit with him in a reclining chair in the lounge. When I plant light kisses over his face, he wrinkles his cute face, opens his eyes, gives me a gorgeous smile, then shuts them again.

  I smile through my tears and whisper, “I love you, Wyatt. I’m so sorry you have to be without Mommy.”

  I guess we were just too happy. No one should be that happy. Maybe I jinxed it when I kept saying how blissful life was. Maybe the universe allows you happiness in small doses, and then matches it with a double quantity of misery.

  Is this to ensure even distribution of pleasure and pain in the world? Or does happiness have an expiration date? Take Reed, for example. He was heartbroken when his wife died, then he met me and he was happy. Now, he will lose me and experience heartbreak and pain all over again. He did nothing to deserve any of this, yet he has to suffer.

  What about me? What is the reason for my pain? Maybe it is adultery catching up with me. But then again, why not catch up with Damien? He was a repeat offender.

  When I hear Reed stirring, I tense up. Placing my sleeping baby back in his crib, I walk into the kitchen and put on the kettle.

  “Morning!” Reed says and plants a kiss on the back of my neck. “Up so early, Kitt?”

  I force a smile and make coffee. He’s talking, but I’m not listening. When he pauses, I plan to tell him.

  “First I have to get the –” When he abruptly stops talking, I know it’s time. I follow his eyes to my packed suitcases, look at his startled face, then turn back to the coffee.

  “Megan? What’s with …?” He points to the bags.

  Slowly, I turn around and look at him. I take a deep breath and say, “I’m … I’m … Reed, I have to go. I’m leaving,
Reed.”

  “What?!”

  “For a while … please.” I look at the floor. Knowing the place is bugged prevents me from blurting out the truth.

  “Wha …?”

  “I’m sorry, Reed.”

  “What do you mean, Megan?”

  I shake my head slowly.

  “I don’t understand. Where are you going?”

  I take a deep breath then say, “Home.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “Back to … Damien.”

  “Whoa!” Reed jerks upright in his chair.

  “I’m really sorry, Reed.”

  Reed shakes his head hard. “Am I dreaming?”

  I shake my head from side to side.

  He scratches his head, a bewildered look on his face. “Why?”

  I swallow hard. “Things … just … kinda changed for me. I’m sorry.”

  “Things kinda changed for me …?” He closes his eyes, then opens them. “What things, Megan?”

  I cringe at his angry tone.

  “When did it change? Yesterday morning, you were happy with things, and last night …”

  The expression on his face flits between anger and confusion.

  “You’re leaving me for him? What about our wedding?” He looks pointedly at my ring.

  Reluctantly, I remove my ring and hold it out to him.

  He stares at the ring, slack jawed. “I can’t believe … you would give it to me so easily?”

  When he doesn’t take it, I place it on the table.

  For a while, he paces, with his fingers shoved into his hair. Then, he cocks his head to one side and looks at me. “Megan, are you in trouble with him?”

  “No!” My answer is immediate.

  “Okay. Am I in any danger, Megan?”

  “No.”

  “Okay,” he says, appearing to desperately try and make sense of the situation, “If I’m in any kind of danger, you need to tell me. I’ll take Wyatt and leave the U.S. There’s no way I’m going to prison. I’ve paid for whatever I’m guilty of with my family’s lives. I’ve really paid!”

  “You’re in no danger, Reed,” I say quickly.

  “No? So, you just want to go back to him then?”

  Silence.

  “Megan, what about Wyatt?”

  I put my fingers to my forehead and squeeze my eyes shut.

  “I see,” he says, his voice bitter. “Things kinda changed with him too.” For a few moments, Reed falls silent again. “You know what I think, Megan? He’s behind this. You’re not yourself. I know you and I’m going to confront –”

  “No! No! It’s just me, Reed. Just my decision.”

  “Your decision? Your decision? Okay, then go, you bitch!”

  Reed’s shouting awakes Wyatt and we hear him cry. I move to fetch him, but Reed steps in my way.

  “Don’t!” he says with such force, I recoil. “Don’t ever touch him again, you slut!” He walks into Wyatt’s room, picks him up, and returns to the kitchen.

  A sleepy Wyatt put out his arms to me, so I reach out for him.

  “Don’t you touch him!” Reed hisses, swinging Wyatt out of my reach. “You will never touch this child again.”

  “What?!”

  We are interrupted by a blaring horn. Damien!

  “Reed, I’m sorry, I have to go.”

  Reed walks to the balcony and looks out. I follow him. We see Damien leaning against his car, smoking a cigarette.

  “I just don’t believe it!” he says, as he turns to look at me. “How could this happen, Megan? I mean, I … I love you with all my heart. You’re everything to me, baby. I feel that … that you love me too. Damn, I know you do! Whatever it is, we can work it out. We’ll fight it together. Don’t leave, baby. We’re getting married, remember? December fifteenth … our honeymoon …?”

  I break down.

  “I searched for you. You cried for me. When you saw, you ran across the street. Remember? Don’t walk away, Megan. Please!”

  At the sight of him looking so crushed, my heart splinters and tears run down my cheeks. “It’s n … not that s … simple, Reed. I’m really sorry.” Quickly, before I lose my resolve and tell him everything and cause more crap in his life, I pick up my cases and walk toward the door.

  Reed grabs my arm roughly. “Megan, wait! We’ll work it out. Please!” He spins me around and pulls me to him, forcing me to drop my bags. He places Wyatt on the ground. “I love you so much, baby. Don’t go.”

  Damien blares his horn again.

  “Reed …” I extract myself from his grip and pick up my cases. At the door, I turn one last time to look at him, my broken man. “Bye, Reed. Bye, my darling Wyatt.”

  Reed suddenly picks up my ring from the table and flings it out of the open window. “I won’t be needing that now!”

  I gasp. That ring means so much to me. It represented hope. Why did he have to do that?

  Damien leans on his horn.

  “Mama!” Wyatt cries and staggers toward me, arms outstretched, obviously sensing that something is wrong. He’s never heard Daddy yell at Mama before. Heartbroken at seeing my baby distressed, I drop my bags and reach for him.

  “Don’t you dare!” Reed hisses and steps between us.

  “I just want to say goodbye. Please, he’s scared.”

  Reed picks up Wyatt and steps back, his lips pressed tightly together. “Get the fuck out of my life!” he growls.

  Having no choice, I pick up my bags, step out of the apartment, and shut the door behind me, my baby’s cries ringing in my ears.

  Damien smiles at the sight of me and takes my bags. “Morning, my goose,” he chirps as he places them in the trunk of the car and shuts it.

  I look up at the balcony. Reed’s there, holding Wyatt and looking down at Damien and me.

  Probably fearing I will change my mind, and deciding he needs some closure, Damien quickly takes me in his arms and kisses me. This is so unexpected, I don’t have time to react.

  He releases me and in a smug voice says, “That should put things to rest.”

  Horrified, my eyes dart to Reed. Reed nods slowly at me, his eyes like granite, his nostrils flaring. I look away and quickly slide into Damien’s Corvette.

  Damien turns up the music and steps on the gas. “Things are looking up, Goosey. Been on the phone all morning and life is sweeeet!”

  Crushed, broken, and wanting to simply die, I lower myself into my seat and sob all the way home.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I sit at the table across from Damien, Jake, and Dex, and study the list given to me by Damien.

  Channel 12 interview, book, movie, Endigo commercial, six public appearances … fifteen tasks in all.

  I look at Damien. “Fifteen?”

  He nods.

  “How much?” I ask.

  He scratches his chin. “Total?”

  “Total.”

  He looks at the ceiling for a few moments, then says, “Seven. Give or take …”

  I slam my file shut. “Done. Three months and all this has to be completed.”

  “Twelve months,” Damien says.

  “No!” I say. “Has to be done in three.”

  “Megan,” Jake says in a gentle voice, “this is hard work. You don’t –”

  “I’ll manage it. Let’s start today. Now!”

  Dex shakes his head. “Megan, there’s too much …”

  “There isn’t, Dex. Let’s just get this done. Please!”

  Damien says nothing, but his smirk does.

  Jake takes a call while Dex goes to his car to fetch something.

  I look at Damien. “Seven plus the three …”

  “‘Bout ten.”

  “Okay. Ten million. After that, I get my freedom back and I never want to see you again.”

  “Sure,” he says. “But I want it all, goosey.”

  “It’s all yours. I don’t want any of it.”

  “Done.”

  “And stop fucking calling me goosey.”

  Damien throw
s his head back and guffaws, and I have the urge to shove the fire stoker into his throat. After all, if he dies, I’m home free. Reed and I can be together with no one to stop us. I can’t believe I’m thinking like this. But I’m not ashamed of my thoughts. Anyway, if he dies, his attorney will take the evidence against me to the cops, so...

  As Jake returns, Damien takes a call.

  Jakes sits across and stares at me.

  “What?” I ask.

  “The last time I saw you Megan, you looked so happy. What hold does he have over you?”

  I swallow the lump in my throat and stare at floor.

  “I can help,” he says in a quiet voice.

  Silence.

  “You’re hurting, Megan, and I’m your friend. I’ve kept your other secret …”

  His kindness is so seductive, I feel like blurting everything to him. But, I don’t. To stop my trembling lip, I clamp both my hands over my mouth and shake my head from side to side.

  ***

  We sit around the TV, Jake, Dex and I, and watch the commercial advertising my upcoming interview scheduled for later on this week. Damien is too excited to sit, so he gets up and walks around the room, blurting, “Beautiful!” every so often.

  “Megan Saunders’ life in the hands of Iraqi militants. What really happened? Hear it live …”

  For almost a year, I dodged this interview, but now I can’t wait to give it and tick it off on my to-do list, just so I can be with my two boys.

  Damien rubs his hands together. “Brilliant! Now you have to deliver. Stop biting your nails!”

  Dropping my hands from my mouth, I scan the notes in front of me, just like I did in Iraq when I had to deliver the inflammatory speeches.

  It’s ironic; I escaped Iraqi militants and got my freedom, only to be placed in another kind of prison.

  How does freedom feel?

  I no longer know.

  I glance over the sheet in front of me. Mm. What to say, how to pause and look to the right as if I’m thinking of the answer so the public doesn’t realize it’s all staged. Have to remember not to look to the left – means I’m lying. Have to remember to tear up when they hit me with a question I’m not prepped for.