Sweet Alibi

by Adriane Leigh

  “Found the jewelry. In here,” a rough voice, belonging to the other man, echoes down the hallway. The boot I’m watching freezes mid-step. I wait as he waits. I bet he's looking around my room for something. For me. The tears roll down my face silently and finally I shut my eyes, unwillingly to see anymore. If something bad is going to happen, I don't want to see it coming. I bite my bottom lip painfully to distract myself from the strange men walking through our house, digging through my mom's jewelry box.

  “Come on, we gotta hurry,” one guy grunts. I hear a few retreating steps down the hallway. I squint one eye open and can see that my door is still partially open. I wish desperately that he had closed it, then I could shut my eyes tight and feel like I wasn't living a nightmare right now.

  A few minutes pass as I hear gruff voices mumbling and then fast footsteps up the stairway. Someone else is coming. My heart thuds and my body prickles in fear.

  “Don't hurt her, please don't hurt her.” It's my dad. He's come. He's going to get me.

  “Daddy.” I whisper the word so quietly I wonder if I’ve even said it out loud. Another loud thud and I see my dad fall to his knees outside my bedroom door. He's pleading incoherently, crying.

  “Come on.” One of the men hauls him off his feet.

  “Tie him up,” says the other. I hear then pull my dad down the stairs, thud after thud as his knees hit each and every step on the way down.

  “Come on, bitch.”

  “Please just leave her,” my dad says groggily. A grunt echoes up the stairs, and then I screw my eyes shut to the world around me. I hear random screams and moans and then sometime, maybe hours or minutes or days later, I hear two pops. I don't know what they are and my brain no longer has the ability to expend the energy to figure it out.

  I open my eyes to bright, streaming light in my bedroom. My brain is a mass of confusion as it registers that I’ve slept on the cold, wooden floor all night, under my bed no less. My brain is foggy and I don't feel rested, and then voices mumbling downstairs reach my ears. I’m too afraid to leave. It all crashes back. Dad told me to stay here no matter what I heard. I can tell the downstairs is crawling with people. I’m confused. Did Mom and Dad invite people over this morning? Was I supposed to be up and dressed already? Was it a holiday or a special occasion? Then more footsteps track up the stairway. They are cautious and careful. Shiny, black shoes cross in front of my open door and pause. The door creaks open slowly, and navy blue pants come into focus, along with another pair of shiny, black shoes and navy pants.

  I strain to remember why they look familiar. I feel like I should know what's happening, I should know why they look familiar.

  “Check the other rooms,” a man’s voice echoes through my small bedroom and the boots come closer to my bed. I start to tremble with fear. The boots pause and then the dust ruffle lifts and I’m staring at warm, brown eyes.

  “Hey, honey. Everything’s okay, you can come out now. We’re here to help.”

  “Dad said I have to stay,” I whimper and shut my eyes. I’m so confused.

  “I’m a police officer, honey”

  “Do you have a badge?” I squeak.

  “Sure, honey. Look.”

  I open my eyes as his shiny, gold medal comes into view. “Can you come out and talk to me?” he says in a soothing voice. My heart hammers in my chest. I’ve been here all night. My body is stiff and in pain. I want to get out. I think I can trust him.

  I nod and then slide my body across the wooden floor and pull out from under my bed. The police officer helps lift me, which is a good thing because my legs are weak from being cramped and contorted all night.

  Then another police officer dressed in navy steps into the room. She has dark, curly hair and friendly, brown eyes. She gives me a comforting smile and wraps her arm around my shoulders.

  “We’re going to take care of you okay, sweetie? We just need to take you outside to get you checked out, make sure you’re not hurt. Can you walk, honey?”

  I nod as she and the other officer place strong arms around me as I take slow steps out the door. My eyes follow the planks of the old, wooden floor and I see splotches of blood, but my brain can't fathom what they’re from. I hear the officers talking to each other, I think they even try to talk to me, but I hear nothing.

  As we reach the last few steps, the woman officer's calming voice speaks to me. “Just lay your head on my shoulder okay, sweetheart? Don't worry about anything else, just keep your head tucked in my shoulder.” I nod and do as I’m told.

  We take a few more steps and then among hushed voices a few words reach my ears. “Time of death approximately four to six hours ago.” I suck in a sharp breath and my head shoots up. The policewoman has a comforting hand on my head to keep me in place, but she isn't able to shield me like she was trying to do. I see more than half a dozen people milling around our kitchen. My eyes take in a slumped shape covered with a black sheet. I don't understand what I’m seeing until my eyes dart across the floor and see another black sheet covering a body. I know instantly who it is because I see a fuzzy pink slipper laying a few inches away. A slipper I’ve seen hundreds of times before, except this time it's covered in blood. My mind shuts down and the only thing I can hear is screaming.

  Twenty-Nine

  Georgia

  “GEORGIA.” KYLE’S VOICE echoed in my ears.

  “Hi,” I whispered as I stretched and opened my eyes.

  “Are you okay?” He sat on the couch and draped an arm over my waist. The guilt rose in my throat at his loving touch and gentle concern.

  “Yeah, we were evacuated. I didn't want to wake you,” I whisper as I shake the fog from my mind, vestiges of the nightmare I’d had the night before still clinging. Except it wasn’t so much a nightmare as a memory. Usually the nightmares were snippets of memory intermixed with nonsensical things, except this was real. Every moment, minute by minute, as I remembered it, even the pieces I tried desperately to forget, they were all there.

  “I would have come and gotten you. You could have called.” He stroked my arm under the blanket. “It's so good to have you home.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to mine.

  “Kyle.” I pulled my hand out and set it on his arm.

  He looked down at my hand a moment, then back into my eyes “You didn't leave your ring, did you?” His brow creased in confusion.

  “No, I have it.” I swallowed the lump that was forming in my throat. “We need to talk, Kyle.”

  “About what?” His eyebrows lifted in surprise.

  “Us,” I said simply. I saw his jaw tighten beneath his stubbled cheek.

  “Okay, I’ve got a meeting at nine, but I can call and―”

  “It can wait. I'll be here when you get back.” I smiled to reassure him.

  “Are you sure, Georgia? Is this serious?” Kyle's chocolatey brown eyes bore into mine, pleading for answers.

  “It can wait. I'll see you when you get home.” I patted his arm.

  “Okay.” Kyle pecked me on the lips again before walking back to our bedroom. I heard the shower turn on as he got ready for work.

  “This is serious, I know it is.” Kyle walked out a few minutes later, his hair wet from the shower. He had a towel wrapped around his waist and my eyes traveled his long, lean physique. I remembered tracing the hard planes of his chest with my fingertips, the smell of his skin, a scent that used to drive me wild when we were teenagers.

  “You have to go to work,” I replied.

  “I called them, I'm staying home today.”

  “You don't have to.” I looked up as he stood over me.

  “I did, you said we need to talk, so I'm here, ready to talk.” He sat and clasped my hand in his own. I licked my lips, hearing the words that I needed to say rushing through my head but unable to force them from my lips. It was not lost on me that Kyle had overworked himself to the point of neglecting our relationship and had finally put us first after it was too late.

  “I can’t
marry you,” I said gently, my eyes swimming with unshed tears.

  “Now? Or never?” His face flashed with a mixture of anger and pain. I searched his eyes, looking at the man that he'd grown into, the boy that used to blow bubbles the size of softballs and wear his Washington Nationals hat cocked to one side. That beautiful, toothy grin that had me melting in a puddle at the age of sixteen.

  “Now or never, Georgia?” His voice rose an octave.

  “I don't think ever, Kyle.” The silence stretched between us, the tension so tight it felt like a rubber band would snap and shred us both. I knew I deserved it for destroying the sweet, innocent boy I'd always loved.

  “What happened this summer?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

  “I think it was what didn't happen.” I looked down at my hands.

  “What? Because I couldn't come down? Christ, Georgia, I was working,” he grumbled. “It’s been tough being apart all summer for me too, but I told you not to go.”

  “I’m sorry,” I muttered. “We’ve just grown apart. I think we want different things.”

  “Like him?” His eyes pierced into me.

  “What? No,” I said, but I could tell the shame was evident on my face.

  “It isn’t? Because it felt like that to me when I was there. In fact, it felt like that before I even got there. You were pulling away from me the moment you got down there.”

  “Wait, is that why you proposed? To stake some sort of claim on me?” My eyes shot to his. He didn't answer. “Kyle, is that why you proposed that weekend? So you wouldn’t lose me?”

  “It wasn't like that. I just knew you wanted more from me, and I couldn’t be there in person, so I thought if you had my ring on your finger, it would be a reminder of what we had, what we have.” He brought a hand up to my neck and stroked affectionately.

  “That's shitty, Kyle. You should have proposed because you wanted to marry me.”

  “I did it because I love you, I want to spend my life with you. I want to marry you. Don't end us, Georgia.”

  “I…You don’t want to marry me, Kyle. I fucked up. Tristan and I… something happened. We―” No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t force the words from my lips.

  “I know. I could see it on your face. I know you fucked him on the Fourth of July.”

  “What? But you–”

  “You’re no good at hiding things, Georgia. Not from me.” He lifted a hand to my cheek and caressed the skin.

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” Our gazes locked as every interaction I’d had with Kyle over the summer replayed in my mind. Every phone call, every text―when he’d proposed, he’d known.

  “Because it doesn’t change how I feel. I knew once you got back to D.C., we could start the life we’ve dreamed of. That guy may be fun to fuck around with, but he's not serious. He doesn't take relationships seriously; it's written all over his face. I know his type, he doesn't take life seriously. What you had with him was the summer, but you and I are forever. It’s always been forever with us.” He wrapped me in his arms and I sobbed into his chest. “Just give it some time, okay? Just some time. No rash decisions right now. This summer has been hell for both of us, so let’s let our lives settle back to normal.” He rubbed my back as he held me in his arms. Kyle had been holding me like this for years, and it always helped to calm me, until now. Tristan's beautiful, green eyes flashed through my mind. The way he'd wrapped his arms around me at the vineyard and held my face in both hands when he pressed his lips to mine. His sexy, lopsided grin when I'd caught him sweaty and half-naked that morning he'd been running. The measured tone of his voice as he read Tristan and Isolde on the beach. The warmth and concern that radiated in his eyes when he was worried about me.

  “I can’t.” I shut my eyes, tears trailing down my cheeks.

  “You can, Georgia. I promise.”

  I wanted to pull away, to run, to be back at my beach house alone. Just the ocean and the waves and the endless sky stretched before me.

  “I'm not selling the beach house. I love it there.”

  “I know, I know. I told you, no rash decisions from either of us. We'll be okay once things get back to normal. This was just a bump in the road. We’ve had bumps before Georgia, but we always make it. Next summer we'll go down together before the season starts, I'll help you spruce up the place and then we can rent it. We can get married, we'll be wedding planning―”

  “Kyle, no, I need time.”

  “So we'll take time.” He continued to rock me. “Will you at least put the ring back on?”

  “Kyle, I'm not ready―”

  “It would mean a lot to me, Georgia,” he said, and I could feel my resolve crumbling. Kyle knew how to get to me; he’d done it when he’d first put the ring on my finger and he was doing it now.

  “I… I'm going to take a shower.” I jumped off the couch. I needed space, time to think, time to breathe. I scooped my toiletry bag out of my suitcase and headed for the seldom-used guest bathroom. I flicked on the light and stepped over a pile of Kyle’s dirty clothes.

  “Clean up your shit, Kyle,” I hollered and threw the clothing full force into the hallway.

  “Sorry, babe.” Kyle appeared and scooped the pile of clothing in his arms. I rolled my eyes before I noticed a strip of lipstick red lace amongst all of his clothes. A strip of lace that did not belong to me. My lips dried and I swallowed the lump in my throat. I gritted my teeth in anger as I stared at the delicate fabric among the dark denim of his jeans.

  “Again, Kyle?” I whispered as my heart hammered in my ears.

  “What?” He looked in my eyes and then down to the pile of clothing in his arms. He spotted the lacy fabric instantly and shuffled to hide it from me.

  “You’re doing it again?” The pain was evident in my voice as my heart thundered in my chest. “Who is it this time?”

  “Georgia, it’s not what you’re thinking―”

  “It’s not? So that isn’t some girl’s underwear in my bathroom? Who is it this time? Who is it?” I screamed as tears filled my eyes.

  “She didn’t mean anything, it was just one night.”

  “Who is it, Kyle?” I seethed, willing myself to stay strong, to not let the pain take over.

  “It was just an intern, we were working late, we went for a few drinks, she was too drunk to go home―”

  “So you let her stay here? In my bed? You brought her to my home?”

  “Spare me the dramatics, Georgia, you haven’t even been here.” I could see the anger flashing in his eyes.

  “Don’t do that―don’t blame me, Kyle. Christ. It’s not like this is the first fucking time you’ve fucked around on me. Was it always my fault? Was it my fault when you fucked Mindy in the backseat of your Camaro in the school parking lot? My fault when you fucked that PA in college? Or the girl in the library when you were studying late? And now an intern? It’s my fucking fault that you can’t keep your dick in your pants?”

  “You know they didn’t mean anything, baby. Not a single one. You’re the only one that’s ever meant anything to me. I love you. We’re going to get married, buy a house, have babies. You and me, it has always been you and me.” He took a step toward me, eyes pleading. “This doesn’t make a difference. We’re still us and nothing can touch us, Georgia. That’s why when you had that thing with that guy this summer, I knew it was just a fling. I knew it wouldn’t last and it wouldn’t matter; only you and I matter. Come on, baby.” He dropped the pile of clothes on the floor and brought his hand up to cup my chin. “This doesn’t have to destroy us; we got through it before, we’ll get through it again,” he whispered as he stroked my cheek.

  I shut my eyes tightly and dipped my head. I felt so defeated. I always felt so defeated when he did this. He always promised it would be the last time, and I always wanted desperately to believe him. This was my Kyle. The man who took care of me, stood by me through everything. I knew I wasn’t easy to be with. The darkness grew so oppressive at times,
I knew it was hard for him, so how could I blame him when he sought attention elsewhere? It’d always just been a brief affair, usually a one-night stand, and then he was good for a while. I leaned on Silas and Drew in the dark times; they knew Kyle hadn’t always been faithful, but they weren’t in this relationship with him, I was. Kyle and I had our problems, but we always got through them. The only thing that was different this go ’round was that I’d fucked around too. I’d cheated on Kyle for the first time ever, and the shame was eating away at me.

  I sniffed and wiped my eyes as Kyle rubbed my back. “I need a shower.” I stepped away from him.

  “Are we going to be okay? This doesn’t change anything for me, Georgia. What I did, what you did. I still want to marry you, buy a house, all of it.” He held my chin in his hand, a silent plea in his eyes.

  I only nodded before I shuffled him out and locked the door behind him. I stripped and stood under the scalding hot water, willing it to wash away the guilt and pain threatening to consume me.

  Thirty

  Georgia

  TIME WENT BY and I walked around like a shell of the person I was. Kyle ran into my old boss at the hotel and told him I was back in town and would love to have my job back. I knew what Kyle was doing. He was trying to lock me in here. He was trying to get us back to us.

  When my boss called, I kindly informed him I wasn't interested.

  Kyle was trying though. He was working fewer hours. He tried his best to keep Sundays open, and we went to museums and out to romantic dinners. All the things we’d done before, all the things I’d wanted him to do these past few years, and I tried to enjoy our newfound time together. But every day that passed I became more sure that we were too late to be saved. And then it occurred to me we’d probably never had a chance since that first time he’d screwed around on me. I just hadn’t been strong enough to walk away, I hadn’t been willing to lose someone else I loved.