Saving Avery

by Angela Snyder

  Yes, he would like that, wouldn't he? Everything is better, in his eyes, when it's brushed under the rug. I like the scar. It reminds me that I survived even if sometimes I wish I hadn't.

  When I don't respond, he eventually releases his grip on me and says, "Just order me my usual. I'm going to drink my wine out on the deck until the food arrives."

  I nod as he walks away. I release a long, shaky sigh, unaware that I had been holding my breath. Closing my eyes, I clutch the granite countertop. I only have to make it through a few more hours until he goes to sleep. I just hope he keeps the monster inside of him at bay until then.

  *

  We eat in silence. Nathan's phone buzzes for the fifth time in the past several minutes, and he glances at the screen. A slow smile spreads across his face. I wonder what or perhaps who is making him smile, but then I decide I don't care. I wouldn't be surprised if Nathan is cheating on me…again. I've never had concrete proof of an affair, but there have been several women I've been suspicious of over the years. Most of them have been his numerous secretaries, each one more stunning than the last. I have heard his colleagues make jokes about the revolving door to his office when it comes to Nathan's employees. He changes secretaries more often than his underwear, and I don't doubt that he fired them after growing tired of them sexually.

  In the past several months since my suicide attempt, he's barely touched me in the bedroom. I'm sure someone else is fulfilling his needs. Nathan isn't the type to just not want sex. I only wish I knew who was sleeping with my husband so I could write her a thank you note. Feeling his hands on me, the same hands that hurt me, makes me die a little inside. I can't find pleasure with him when he continues to give me so much pain.

  He puts down his chopsticks and stares at me from across the table. His smile doesn't waver, and I can't believe my good fortune. I broke one of his rules by being late, and he's actually being pleasant. "I forgot to tell you that I've been asked to be a guest speaker and presenter at a national medical conference in Seattle. I'll be gone for a week."

  I can't stop the surprise from registering on my face, but I quickly cover up the emotion with a forced frown. All I want to do is jump for joy, but I learned a long time ago how to fake my emotions when it comes to Nathan. He never sees the true me. Never.

  "I'm catching a flight Friday afternoon and won't be returning until next Saturday."

  I just have to make it through the rest of this week, and then Nathan will be gone for seven whole days. On the outside I appear sad, but inside I'm ecstatic. In the back of my mind, I have been planning for an opportunity like this for such a long time --- an opportunity to try to leave him…for good this time. He's been limiting his trips for out-of-state clients and watching me like a hawk since I tried ending my life six months ago. But I've been doing everything I could lately to get him to trust me all in preparation for a chance like this.

  He places his elbows on the table and steeples his hands, placing his chin on top of them. "I trust that you won't stray while I'm gone," he says with narrowed eyes trained on me.

  I stare back at him. I don't know if he's implying I'm going to leave him again or if I'm going to cheat on him. Perhaps both. Nathan has made it very clear as to what would happen if I ever looked at a man, talked to a man or, god forbid, ever touched another man. I can remember when our former pool man flirted with me one day. I wouldn't even call it flirting as much as just a casual hello, a smile and a wink. His actions seemed so harmless to me at the time, but Nathan saw something very devious in those small gestures. The next morning Nathan beat the man so badly that he was in a coma for almost a month. Whatever anger he had left after the beating he took out on me. The lies I spun for the emergency room staff flowed freely while I sat under Nathan's stern gaze. "I fell down a flight of stairs." I don't know if the ER doctor necessarily believed me, but Nathan's reputation and his money were very persuasive. I know firsthand that anything and anyone, for that matter, can be bought.

  And as for leaving him, he's also made it very clear as to the consequences for my actions. I remember the first time I thought I could run away. After we were married for only a few months, I decided I couldn't take any more of the verbal and physical abuse. I packed a suitcase and hopped a bus at the nearest station. I was halfway across the state when the bus I was in got pulled over by several police cars. Nathan's father is the chief of police, and Nathan filed a missing and endangered person report the moment he discovered me gone. His father put all of the department's manpower into finding me. After my dramatic capture, I endured all I could with Nathan for weeks until I was once again yearning to run away.

  I have tried everything imaginable over the past few years to leave him, but nothing has worked. And when I made a last-ditch effort to leave this world physically, even that plan failed in the end. Staring down at the jagged scar on the inside of my wrist, I push my memories back down where they belong. "You can trust me," I say finally.

  He clasps his hands together and nods once. "Well, I'm going to bed. I have an early meeting and surgeries scheduled all day." He stands and walks over to me. I don't even have time to react when he suddenly grabs my face roughly, crushing his fingers into my cheeks and jaw until I whimper in pain. He glares down at me and says through gritted teeth, "I expect you to be on time tomorrow evening, Avery. Don't. Disappoint. Me." He enunciates the last three words, making them sound like a threat. Then he releases me and disappears up the stairs to our bedroom.

  My fingertips gently massage my sore jaw as I blink back tears from the pain. I cautiously wiggle my mouth back and forth. My jaw isn't broken, but it hurts like hell. And here I actually thought he wasn't mad about me being late or perhaps had forgotten all about it. I should have known better. Nathan never forgets, and he most certainly never forgives.

  After a few seconds of composing myself, a sigh of relief washes over me knowing that he's sleeping in the other room. One more day down. And that is exactly how I live --- day by day. I can't look into the future, because all I see is darkness. There is no light at the end of my tunnel. Not yet anyway.

  My muscles slowly begin to relax. I'm always so tense around him, constantly on my toes, anxious and waiting for his next move. Without finishing the rest of my dinner, I stand and clean up the dining room and kitchen until it's spotless. Nathan wouldn't have it any other way. Being one of the country's best plastic surgeons, he spends every day making people---mostly celebrities---look perfect. And in that liking of perfection in his work, he expects it at home and everywhere else in his life. If only he practiced that perfection with his own personality.

  After grabbing an afghan from the couch, I slip out the back door and onto the deck that overlooks the ocean. The smell of salt water fills my lungs as the soft breeze blows my long hair off of my shoulders. I close my eyes and picture myself in a different place where there is no pain, no sorrow. It's a short-lived bliss, a chance to forget my life for a moment. But the black cloud lingering overhead is always there, always threatening to come down around me at any moment.

  I wrap the afghan around myself before walking down the stairs and onto the wooden pathway that leads right to the sandy beach. This stretch of beach is private, and there are only five houses along it. The house to the right belongs to a retired and quite famous restaurant owner. He's hardly ever home, however. The house on the left at the end of the row has been empty for over two years. The asking price is steep, and it's going to be a hard sell in the struggling market. The realtor is constantly trying new tactics, raising and lowering the price and holding an open house every few months, but nothing seems to be working.

  Shifting my gaze from the house, I look towards the ocean. The sun is setting, and the sky is filled with purple, blue and orange. I stake my claim on the beach near the water, pull my knees up to my chest and push my feet into the cool sand. I wrap the afghan tighter around me and begin my nightly routine. I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes, and I let them fall freely.
My sobs are masked by the crashing ocean waves. This is where I seek solace every night. I cry because I think I would explode if I didn't get some sort of release. With pent-up emotions always running rampantly through me, I have to vent somehow.

  Nathan forbids me to cry in front of him. Deep down I think the tears remind him of how much he's actually hurting me, and he doesn't want to face the truth. I used to cry and scream and yell at him, but I learned a long time ago that it only leads to more punishment, more pain and a hell of a lot more tears. I'm conditioned to feel numb around him, and it's easier that way. The only downfall is that I also feel numb around everyone else all the time.

  Nathan wasn't always like this. He was so sweet and kind at first, especially the first night we met at my graduation party. I quickly fell in love with him. Thinking back on it now, though, I realize I never knew what love really was. I think I fell in love with the idea of him. I was young and inexperienced as to the cruelties of the world. Nathan portrayed himself as someone completely opposite of who he is now. The man I fell for was nothing but a carefully crafted façade, a myth, a real-life monster in disguise. And there isn't a day that goes by where I don't regret saying I do at the wedding. Two years, one month and fifteen days later I'm still regretting it.

  Things could have been so different for me if I hadn't met Nathan. I would have traveled Europe, exploring my independence and then headed to college like I had always planned, becoming a teacher instead of a trophy wife. I hated that term with a passion, but that was exactly what I had become. I was a piece of eye candy hanging on my husband's arm at every event, every party, every social gathering.

  I like to think about the possible what ifs sometimes even if it hurts me to my very core. What if I would have met someone in college, someone kind and gentle who wouldn't even think of laying a hand on me? We would have fallen in love, married, had two-point-five kids and lived in a house with a white picket fence in the suburbs. I would be happy.

  Sighing, I shake my head, dispelling the notion. The dreams I once had for my life have slowly been destroyed one by one. I try not to think about how different my life could be now, because it only depresses me further. As long as I am here in this prison with him, I will never have a future --- at least not a happy one.

  I'm only twenty-three, but I feel like a shell of my former carefree, rebellious self. And I worry that if I don't get out of this relationship soon, the person that I used to be will never come to the surface again. She will drown in self-loathing and depression, and I will be broken for the rest of my life, too afraid to leave and not strong enough to fight anymore.

  I stand and wipe away my tears. It's dark now, and the full moon and twinkling stars above illuminate the night sky. As I straighten my clothes, I can feel my mask falling back into place. I'm sick of pretending to be happy, but I have no other choice.

  Making my way back to the porch, I glance at the house for sale next door and notice a light is on in the living room. With no blinds on the windows, it's easy to see in. The room is filled with furniture, and I wonder if the realtor is staging the home for another open house. Thinking nothing more of it, I climb the steps of our porch and go inside.

  I change into pajamas and lie down on the bed as close to the edge as I can. Nathan stirs in his sleep and reaches for me. I grimace as he pulls me towards the middle of the mattress and wraps his arm around my waist tightly, crushing me against him. Even in his sleep he's possessive.

  Closing my eyes, I think about today, attempting to focus on something positive. Dr. Harrison invades my thoughts. When I saw him today, I felt something; and I haven't felt much of anything over the past two years. But the fact that he makes me feel means I need to steer clear of him. Until I leave Nathan, until my life is actually my own, I can't bring anyone else into this mess. Max seems really nice. It's too bad I'll never have the chance to get to know him. In another life, I tell myself. In another life, I could fall in love with someone who loved me back and have the future I always wanted.

  Eventually, sleep takes hold of me. I find peace within my dreams that are permeated with Max's dark gaze and kind smile.

  *

  MAX

  I sit in the living room nursing a beer in a comfortable oversized recliner that the saleswoman at the furniture store picked out. She said I would love it, and she was right. I do love it. It's the best piece of furniture I've ever owned.

  I take a swig of beer and sigh. The house is quiet. Too quiet. The satellite company is coming tomorrow, so at least I'll have TV for the upcoming weekend. Chuckling to myself, I shake my head. I can't believe I'm actually looking forward to watching television on the weekend instead of going out, but I pretty much left all my friends behind when I moved from Chicago to Nags Head.

  My fingers dance around the screen of my cell phone. I consider playing some music to break the silence, but then decide not to bother. After this beer, I'm hitting the sack anyway. It was an exhausting day. The hospital isn't as large as the one I left, but I had a routine there. It was familiar. It was home to me. I did my residency there and was hired into a full-time position right away in the pediatrics department. I knew my way around. I was comfortable. Now I'm completely out of my element once again, attempting to learn all new protocols and procedures and trying not to step on any toes in the process. And if I didn't have a pretty brunette distracting me, maybe I could learn everything the first time around.

  A smile tugs at the corner of my lips. Avery. I can't stop thinking about her. She looks like she stepped out of some sort of fairytale. I almost expect birds to be flying around and singing and fluffy bunnies hopping behind her at the hospital. But this fairytale won't have a happy ending for me, because she's married.

  Sighing, I slump down in the chair and glance around my new pad in an attempt to distract myself from thinking about her. The house is huge and on a private beach, to boot. I still can't believe how I lucked into it. I'm only renting as of right now. The realtor worked some magic and convinced the desperate owner that month-to-month rent was better than letting it sit empty. The rent isn't cheap, but to be able to stick my toes in the sand and swim in the ocean in my downtime will outweigh the cost. And it's definitely much roomier than the hotel room I've been crammed into for over a week when I first got into town.

  The house is still on the market; and if they get a seller, I'm out on my ass. But I'm going to enjoy it while I can. I think buying this place would have been a bigger jump than I wanted to take considering the hefty price tag. And plus the thought of settling down here makes the reason why I left Chicago seem even more real, and I want to live in denial for just a little bit longer.

  I still can't believe I actually went through with the move. I had a lot going for me back home at one point in time. I had a beautiful fiancée, a great job and wonderful friends and coworkers. But once I found out my fiancée Gretchen was cheating on me, I decided I needed a change of pace and that I needed to put as much distance between us as was humanly possible. She broke my heart into a million pieces, and I would never be able to forgive her or my so-called best friend that she slept with.

  So I returned to the one place that had always made me happy as a kid. My parents often took my sister Megan and I on vacation to Outer Banks. My family still lives in southern Virginia, and Nags Head is a hell of a lot closer than Chicago. In my mind it's a win-win situation.

  I bring the bottle of beer to my lips and take a long pull on it. I was never much of a drinker, but having one in the evening when I'm alone helps to numb the hurt I've been feeling since I called off my engagement. Gretchen really turned my world upside down in the worst possible way. I was going to spend the rest of my life with that girl. She was the one woman who finally tamed the ultimate bachelor, as my friends called me, and she stomped on my fucking heart.

  I run a hand through my hair and chug the last of the beer, setting the empty bottle on the end table. Tired of sitting in silence, I get up and walk out onto the back
porch. I stand in almost complete darkness, having forgotten to hit the switch for the outside lights. There are a lot of things I need to learn about this house, but so far I just haven't had the time.

  I move to the edge of the deck and close my eyes. The sound of the waves crashing onto the shore is soothing, and it reaffirms my decision to move here. I most definitely could fall asleep to the sound of the ocean. It's so damn peaceful.

  As I concentrate on the waves, I faintly pick up on another sound. It sounds like…someone crying. My eyes snap open and search the beach. They almost instantly settle on a figure sitting in the sand. Her long dark hair is whipping in the wind, and her back and shoulders are slouched forward as if the weight of the world is upon her at that very moment. Her hands cup her face as she sobs into them.

  My heart instantly aches for this girl, and I wonder what happened to make her cry like that. I don't know if she's one of my neighbors or not since I haven't really made a point to introduce myself to any of them. The realtor was in such a hurry for me to the sign the lease that she didn't really expound on the neighborhood either.

  I watch the woman from the shadows of the deck. She cries for a long time, and I'm unable to tear my gaze away. It's as if I'm mesmerized. Her sobs are heartbreakingly sad, and I feel a deep ache inside of me that I have never felt before.

  After several minutes, I watch as she slowly stands, carefully wiping the tears from her eyes and straightening her clothes as if nothing happened. She turns and walks up the pathway towards the house next door. It's only when she's within a short distance from the porch that I can make out her features under the lamppost. A small gasp escapes my lips as the realization sets in that I know her. Avery. Her piercing blue-gray eyes stare in my direction as I say her name in my mind, and I stand stock-still, holding my breath. I know she can't see me, but I would hate for her to know that I was watching her. Her eyes float over the outside of the house and lock onto the living room where I left the light on. Her eyebrows knit together, and then she continues up the steps and vanishes inside the house next door.