The Chrysalis

by Deneen, Brendan

  She hadn’t reached Tom, but she remained certain that eventually he would talk to her, that he wasn’t too far gone. She knew in her heart that he would come around, despite Victoria’s insisting that Jenny file for divorce and sell the house.

  Finally, Jenny had been forced to tell Victoria to “shut the fuck up” on the topic—right in the middle of dinner one night, while they were enjoying Lakshmi’s phenomenal homemade stir fry. Her sister hadn’t mentioned Tom since then.

  Through it all—her anguish and despair over the state of her marriage, her worry about her husband, her continual arguments with her sister—Jenny clung to her studio. Despite Victoria’s earlier warnings, her client list had grown steadily. The advent of winter and extreme cold had been especially kind to business, with people eager for physical release after days trapped inside. She was offering some group classes and fewer one-on-one training sessions; she’d even started a kids’ class on Saturday mornings, which had filled up within a day of her announcing it online. An additional Sunday morning class filled just as quickly.

  Her clients were a mix of people, in refreshing contrast to the never-ending stream of bankers she’d worked with before. Various ages and fitness levels; different ethnicities and backgrounds, and, she assumed, different sexual orientations; some snooty housewives, some part-time athletes who said they were sick of the mega-gym a few towns away, even one former professional baseball player who was sixty-three years old and in pretty remarkable shape.

  And then there was Chad.

  He’d shown up again a couple of weeks earlier, on the coldest day Jenny could remember in years, while she was still reeling from the call with Kevin. The studio had been empty all day, her only two appointments having canceled due to the snow that had fallen the night before, not to mention the life-threatening temperatures. She’d received their texts, back to back, while already on the train to New Jersey, immediately annoyed that she’d woken up early on a Monday morning for nothing.

  Stepping onto the nearly empty platform in Springdale, Jenny had weighed her options. Since she didn’t have any other appointments until late Tuesday afternoon, she could catch the next train back to New York City, then get into bed and stay there for almost twenty-four hours, watching bad TV, eating junk food, and wallowing in depression.

  Or she could suck it up and go to the workout studio anyway. Do some cardio. Lift some weights. Nothing too crazy so late in her pregnancy, but still. Afterwards, she could grab a coffee, maybe even some lunch at the cute little sandwich shop that had recently opened a few doors down from her place. The owner was a retired businessman who smiled and made corny jokes whenever they saw each other.

  Maybe she would stop by the house. Try once again to see if Tom was home and make sure he was okay. Try to get a sense of what exactly was going on with him, even if the ultimate answer was a painful one.

  Her workout had been going great, loud rock music blasting from the sound system, when Chad walked in. He seemed sort of sheepish, almost shy, saying that he wanted to sign up for a class. Sweaty, out of breath, and a little embarrassed, Jenny had grabbed a hand towel and mopped her face and the back of her neck, aware that she was pretty ripe. If Chad noticed her sweat or her big stomach when she brought him the paperwork, he didn’t mention it.

  He jotted down his address and credit card number and insisted she run the latter before he took the class, which made her laugh. Somehow, slightly abashed Chad was even more attractive than confident Chad. As he checked the box next to the liability waiver and signed his name on the bottom, he admitted that he’d never had a one-on-one fitness class before. When he handed her the clipboard, she nearly dropped it—probably not the best impression a fitness instructor could make. The entire exchange was awkward and fumbling, and took less than ten minutes. Chagrined but buzzing, Jenny had watched him go and sighed.

  Today was Chad’s first individual session.

  Jenny gently placed her hands on his bare shoulders. She couldn’t believe she was alone with him. Despite being eight months pregnant, she felt amazing. Over the last several weeks, her senses felt as if they had exploded. Tastes were more complex than ever, her hearing seemed better than it had been even when she was a kid, her ability to identify things based on their scent alone felt uncanny. She had heard that this was a common “symptom” of pregnancy, but she never expected it to be quite like this.

  Not to mention her sense of touch.

  Chad’s warm skin felt incredible against her fingers. It had been months since she had touched a man, let alone been touched by one. The nightly hugs from her sister were nice, definitely appreciated, even if she didn’t always want to reciprocate, but it wasn’t the same. She missed Tom’s hands on her, missed his small gestures, like when he would touch her cheek gently as he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. She missed feeling his scruff against her face when they kissed. She missed his smell, his smile, the way his mouth tasted, even the look in his eyes when he got frustrated or mad.

  Jenny pushed the bittersweet thoughts of her husband out of her mind.

  Chad seemed less shy than on the day he’d signed up, more talkative and flirty, as he’d been when they met at the Deckers’ big housewarming party, a million years ago.

  When he arrived at the studio and took off his coat, Jenny had seen that he was dressed in a tight tank top and a pair of running shorts, an outfit that showed off his impressive but not over-the-top physique. They’d chatted lightly, Jenny feeling butterflies in her stomach. As he began stretching, she shifted from nervous to professional, realizing that Chad had learned all the wrong things about how to warm up before a workout. She sternly told him to stop, then walked over and placed her hands on his shoulders—and both she and Chad went still and silent. There wasn’t even any music—for some reason, Jenny had forgotten to turn on the sound system even though that was always the first thing she did before a workout.

  The moment stretched on as Chad stared into her eyes, and Jenny found herself unable to speak. She hadn’t realized how blue his eyes really were, or that they were speckled with tiny flecks of green-gray unlike anything she’d ever seen before. His breath smelled amazing, minty and sweet. A self-assured smile spread across his face.

  “What next, Coach?” he said quietly, practically whispering.

  The hair on her arms stood up in excitement. She blinked and got hold of herself. Years of on-the-job training kicked in, and she flashed a confident smile to match his.

  “Whoever taught you to stretch did a terrible job,” she said, forcing herself to reposition his arms. “If you don’t stretch correctly before a workout, you could do long-term damage to your muscles. You might not realize it right away, but eventually it’s gonna come back to bite you in the ass.”

  “Well,” he said, “my dad taught me how to stretch. He was my Little League coach. So, are you saying he was a terrible coach?”

  Jenny laughed and kicked his legs open, a little harder than she’d intended. He looked surprised at the impact but quickly recovered and smiled again. “Legs farther apart,” he murmured. “Got it.”

  She almost apologized for kicking him so hard but thought better of it. If he wanted a real workout that was going to make a difference, he was going to get it. She walked over to the stereo and turned on the music, nice and loud.

  For the next hour, Jenny pushed Chad hard. He seemed to relish the challenge, and she came to realize that the guy was in fantastic shape, even better than his appearance suggested. By the end of the session, they were both sweating heavily and even pulled off a non-ironic high five after he did his last jump rope set. She threw him a towel and handed him a bottle of water.

  “Thanks,” he managed to get out between greedy sips.

  “Not a bad start. For a newbie.” She was barely out of breath, despite being so far along in her pregnancy and pushing herself a little too hard to impress him.

  Leaning against a wall, he chugged the rest of the water; some spilled down
his chin and ran along his throat. She watched his glistening Adam’s apple bobbing up and down and felt a rush of attraction flow through her body. When was the last time she’d had sex with Tom? Probably that time in the restaurant bathroom. That had been amazing, but it had also been months ago. She tried to calm her breathing as Chad wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “What?” he said with a smile, watching her closely.

  She forced herself out of the almost-fugue state she’d descended into and walked over to him, snatching the towel out of his hand. He laughed in surprise. “You aren’t done yet, Forsythe. Time to fix your post-workout stretching now.”

  Chad mock-saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

  He stepped away from the wall as she took another step toward him. Her earlier playlist was done, and it had grown quiet in the studio. There were no cars driving past; there was no one on the street outside. It was as if they were the only two people in the world.

  They stared into each other’s eyes. Jenny told herself to say something, to get back to business, but was unable to. Chad gave her a half smile, a delicate curve of the lips that crinkled the corners of his eyes. Somehow, despite his intense workout, his hair was still perfect. He looked as though he’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine.

  Chad inched closer. Jenny held her breath, unable to speak, barely able to even think.

  “Jen…,” he said plaintively, almost desperately, and then he was kissing her.

  His mouth tasted so good—Jenny felt as if she’d left her body and was observing the situation from a distance.

  Tightening his arms around her, Chad kissed her more deeply. Jenny wasn’t exactly kissing him back, but she hadn’t stopped him either. Her brain didn’t seem to be able to communicate with the rest of her body. Her arms hung languidly at her sides while goose bumps shot up and down her spine. His stubble against her face, his soft lips, his strong hands on her back. It felt incredible to be touched like this.

  “Wait…,” she managed to say as he pulled away for a second. Even the feeling of his breath so close, gently caressing her mouth, made it hard to think. He was so fucking hot.

  “You’re beautiful…,” he whispered, and her body flushed yet again. “All of you,” Chad said, placing his hands on her stomach and leaning in for another kiss.

  The feeling of another man’s fingers on her pregnant belly snapped Jenny back into reality. That was her baby in there. Hers and Tom’s.

  She fought against the pleasure coursing through her and managed to get out a loud “Stop.”

  Chad either didn’t hear her or didn’t care, because his attempted kisses became more intense and he forcefully slid his tongue into her mouth, moving his hands around to the small of her back and pushing his pelvis against her. Jenny felt as though she were trapped in the nightmare she’d had months earlier, when she dreamed of being covered in body parts. Chad’s wet, probing tongue reminded her of the bloody finger that had been lodged into her mouth, its ragged nail tearing at the inside of her cheek. Her vision turned red, and she wanted to vomit.

  Despite the blood pounding in her ears, Jenny calmly wrapped the fingers of her right hand around Chad’s neck. He moaned in pleasure and murmured, “Yeah, baby…” When she started squeezing, it took him a moment to realize what was happening. Then his eyes opened wide and he stared at her in confusion.

  “I said stop,” she hissed, lifting him into the air by his neck, one-handed, his feet dangling off the ground. He gasped for air but there was none to be had, even when he started clawing pointlessly at her fingers.

  Jenny could hear screeching in her ears even though she knew it was silent in the studio, except for Chad’s pathetic gurgling. The high-pitched noise got louder and louder until she couldn’t take it anymore. She threw him against the nearby wall, slamming his body hard against it. Chad collapsed in a breathless heap, grabbing at his throat, taking long, deep breaths, tears rolling down his face. His perfect hair was a mess.

  “Fuh…,” he sputtered, staring up at her. Jenny blinked rapidly. The shrill screaming in her ears was gone, replaced by Chad’s rapid breathing. “Freak,” he finally managed to get out. “You’re a fucking freak! Just like your psycho husband!”

  Jenny looked around the studio, then out the window. Nothing had changed. Everything was quiet; no one outside had noticed. She swiveled her head back around, almost insectlike, and stared at Chad with curiosity, then glanced at her hands. Had that all really happened?

  Wobbling, Chad got to his feet, using the wall for support. Jenny snapped out of her trance, the echoes of the screeches still reverberating in her ears; her eyes widened. “Oh my God, Chad…,” she said, taking a step forward.

  He stumbled along the wall, toward the door, throwing his arms up in a defensive gesture, fear blazing in his eyes. “Stay away from me!” he yelled, sounding like a little boy. Jenny stopped in her tracks. “Stay away,” he repeated, a thin hiss. He continued to slide along the wall, as if afraid to make a direct bolt for the door, clearly not wanting to get any closer to Jenny than he had to. She stood still, watching him go, her gut twisting with fear, excitement, and nausea.

  After what seemed like a very long time, Chad reached the door. He threw it open and flung himself outside, shooting one last glance back at the woman he had just been kissing, abandoning his coat despite the frigid temperatures. His gorgeous eyes were full of terror.

  The darkness outside swallowed Chad almost immediately. The door was still open in his wake, admitting cold air that swirled about Jenny. She closed her eyes and let the wind roll past her face, through her hair. It felt incredible.

  A voice whispered in her ear.

  “Good girl.…”

  Jenny’s eyes whipped open and her feeling of ecstasy vanished, replaced by an almost inhuman fear, her heart slamming against her rib cage. Her stomach ached and she placed her hand on it as she looked for the source of that horrible voice, a voice pulled from every nightmare she’d ever had. The studio was empty. The wind grew stronger, colder, and more bitter.

  Jenny surged forward, still clutching herself, and pulled the door shut with more violence than she’d intended, a thin crack erupting in its wood.

  Tears began to roll down Jenny’s face, unbidden, but she felt strangely empty inside. She stepped away from the door, backing up to the center of the room, where she had been kissed by Chad Forsythe. She sank down into a fetal position, clutching her stomach and the baby inside, and wept, loud and messy, for a long, long time. Despite her tears, she felt nothing, absolutely nothing inside, which made her cry even harder.

  * * *

  Another storm was threatening when Ray Dallesander pulled up to the Decker residence a little after five o’clock in the evening. Ray grumbled under his breath as he clambered out of his messy truck, toolbox in hand, cursing himself for wearing only a T-shirt under his barely adequate winter coat. He’d gone through an ugly divorce a year earlier and had trouble concentrating on much these days, let alone what clothes to wear. Theresa, that fucking bitch, had destroyed him with her expensive lawyers and bitter, scrunched-up face. He had no idea how he was going to pay his bills, not to mention the tabs he kept racking up at the various bars he ended up at every night of his life.

  Thank God he didn’t have any kids. A monthly child support check would have been the death of him. Maybe literally. And it wasn’t like the inheritance he’d received from his recently deceased mother was doing much to help. It had barely covered her own funeral expenses.

  That’s why he had accepted the furnace job when that Decker loser called. Sure, it had been odd, months ago, when the long-haired freak refused to let him into the basement … but really, what did he care? It was annoying to the small part of Ray that was a completist, but as long as the weirdo signed the paperwork that relieved Ray of any legal exposure, Decker’s money was as green as anyone else’s.

  This new call had come just in time. The inspection jobs had dried up in November and especia
lly December. He hoped that people would start buying houses again in the new year, flush with holiday cash or bonuses from work, but either the economy or the weather, or both, was proving otherwise so far. Ray had been thinking of advertising his services as a general handyman, but hadn’t done it yet and at the moment was almost entirely out of money.

  Still, it meant working for Decker. He’d despised the guy on first sight … the greasy hair, the tattoos, the general air of being too good for everyone else … that bullshit hippie sensibility had always bugged the crap out of Ray. He was a simple guy, liked simple things, pined for a time that had long since passed, when hardworking men could make a living, keep a happy home where people knew their roles, and maybe even have a kid someday, preferably a son.

  But if this Decker job worked out, it might be the start of Ray’s new handyman business. Decker was odd, there was no doubt about it, but he’d probably give a good recommendation based on a job well done. The wife had seemed nice on the phone, all those months ago, and she looked pretty hot in the pictures that Ray had found on the internet. The Decker job could change everything. Ray just had to be on his best behavior. Even if it killed him.

  Shivering, Ray stomped up the wooden stairs, knocking the snow off his threadbare boots as he went. He noticed that the paint was peeling in the spots that weren’t covered in ice or snow and the wood underneath was cracked or buckled in several places. Ray’s mind calculated what he could charge a rube like Decker for this kind of work, let alone all the other problems the ancient house must be hiding. This place and its ignorant residents were a virtual gold mine. This could solve everything.

  Ray pushed the dimly glowing button of the doorbell. If it rang inside, he didn’t hear it. He tried to recall if he’d even checked it during the inspection all those months ago. He’d taken a few nips from his always-present flask that morning, and the inspection, if he were being honest, was a bit hazy. As he waited, freezing, he rubbed his hands together.