by Kyra Davis
I stared up at the painting of me and Bobe.
“Ma’am? Are you there?”
“I think I need to call you back.”
“Yeah, okay.” The man sounded genuinely sorry for me. He rattled off a number and I used a pen left on the coffee table to scribble it onto the back of a magazine. I might have written a number or two incorrectly; it was hard to see through all the rage.
I promised to call back and then clicked off the phone. Five months. Before we were even married. I had to talk to Tad. Now.
Forty minutes later I was in the elevator that went up to Tad’s office space. I had thrown on a pair of jeans and a fitted cotton long-sleeve tee that had been washed and dried a few too many times. My hair was a mess and my makeup nonexistent. For once I really didn’t care what I looked like. The elevator made a little ding noise to indicate that it had reached the requested floor. I marched out before the doors had a chance to fully open and stormed past the desks of the sales reps, who watched me curiously from their cubicles. I went to the door with Tad’s name on it and pounded on it so hard that my fist stung from the impact. But I didn’t care. My pain would be insignificant compared to the suffering I was about to inflict.
Tad opened the door. His face was flushed and his jaw jutted forward. But when he saw it was me the anger in his face transformed into confusion and then wariness. “April, is everything all right?”
“No.”
Tad glanced nervously at the people sitting at their desks behind me and then quickly ushered me in. He closed the door behind me before using it to lean on as he folded his arms across his chest. He didn’t say anything nor did he meet my eyes.
“I got a call from Chase this morning.”
“Chase.” He drew the word out so that the s sounded like the hissing of a snake.
“How could you? How could you forge my name on a credit card? And before we were even married, Tad! My God, did it ever occur to you that you were committing a felony?”
“Keep your Goddamn voice down.”
“Excuse me? EXCUSE ME!” I was vaguely aware of being on the verge of hysteria and I didn’t care. “You told me that you were putting all the wedding charges on your card and that you were paying it off monthly! But you haven’t been paying it at all, and it wasn’t even your card! What did you do, go through my mail and forge my name on one of those preapproved deals? Or did you actually go out of your way to get an application? Hmm? Come on, Tad, tell me all the dirty details. How hard was it to rip off your wife?”
“April, this is not the time or the place—”
“Nu-uh, no way. You don’t get to control this argument. You charged that painting of me and my grandmother to an illegal account in my name! Oh my God, what kind of person does something like that?”
“I was paying the bills, April.” The cool detachment in his voice made me want to walk over and throttle him. “I fell behind this month, that’s all. I was going to pay it—”
“You fell behind for two months, but that’s not the fucking point! You lied to me, you betrayed me and you fucking stole from me!”
He reached over and grabbed my arm, yanking me forward so that we were only inches apart. “I have been paying the bills. Every cent was going to be paid off.”
I looked down to where his hand was cutting off the circulation in my arm. I took a deep breath and met his eyes. “Get your hands off me right now.” I heard myself speak the words with a menacing force that was foreign to me. Tad removed his hand.
I stood there for a moment not moving my arm or any other part of my body. Would he dare grab me again? And then I realized…I wanted him to. I wanted an excuse to punch the shit out of him. I took a quick breath in and stepped back. I walked around him and pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk and removed the phone book that he always kept there. I flipped through the Yellow Pages, ignoring Tad’s inquisitive stare. Finally I found what I was looking for and dialed the number on the page and switched on the speakerphone.
“Hi,” said the recorded voice on the other end of the line. “You’ve reached marriage and family therapist Harry Klein. I cannot take your call right now but if you leave your name and number I will get back to you shortly.”
“Hello, Mr. Klein, my name is April Silverperson.” I glared at Tad, who was beginning to look a little lost. “My husband and I need to make an appointment with you before I kill him.” I proceeded to leave my home, work and cell-phone numbers before hanging up.
“I was going to pay it off,” Tad whispered, although the statement didn’t seem to be directed at me as much as to himself.
I clenched and unclenched my hands in frustration. “It doesn’t matter what you—”
“It’s Sean and Eric’s fault.”
“Sean and Eric? What could they possibly have to do with this?”
“They were supposed to approve my business plan. I showed them the plan. It’s perfect. They’re ruining everything. EVERYTHING!” He raised his fist and plummeted it into the wall, leaving a hole where he had made impact. He pulled his hand back and shook it slightly. I could see drops of blood clinging to his knuckles. My hand flew to my mouth to keep myself from screaming or throwing up.
“I’m going to get them for this. I’m going to make them pay.” He turned in my direction, but if he saw me he made no indication of it.
“Sean’s fighting to get joint custody of his two-year-old son.” With each syllable his tone became more sinister. “I wonder how he would like it if I called his ex-wife and told her about the seventeen-year-old boy he fucked. I bet he’d never be able to get within twenty feet of his son again.”
I swallowed and moved carefully toward the door. It was time for me to go. Tad started as if he had suddenly remembered that I was there. I felt his eyes follow me as I walked out of his office and rushed to the elevator.
I didn’t go home after that. Instead, I drove to Twin Peaks. I got outside and walked right to the point where the hill makes its dramatic slope downward and looked out at the city spread below me. I needed this, to feel separated from all of it. I needed the perspective.
I had been so angry about the credit card that I hadn’t stopped to think about how weird it was. It wasn’t a normal kind of betrayal.
I sighed and rubbed my arms to help warm myself. Tad had taken me up here on our fourth date. He had wrapped his arms around me and told me that we were the perfect fit. I had just smiled; I hadn’t asked him to explain why he thought so; I understood. Once upon a time I had understood Tad. Now I didn’t understand anything.
I pushed aside my hair that the wind was whipping into my face. His reaction to being confronted…My God, what had that been about? For that matter, what had my reaction been about? It had been the first time in my life that I had felt completely capable of violence. Never mind the fact that he was a lot bigger and stronger than me. Never mind that I still loved him. None of that had factored into my thinking because I hadn’t been thinking. I had just been feeling. Feeling the bloodlust.
“Jesus, what if I really am a monster?” I said aloud. I looked around to make sure that none of the tourists had seen me talking to myself, but there weren’t any standing close enough to notice, and even if they had, they probably would have just taken a picture. “And here’s the schizophrenic woman we saw on the top of Twin Peaks, remember her, Marge?”
I went over to an empty bench and sat with my back against a plaque that sang the praises of a deceased husband and father. I did love Tad. He could be so purely wonderful. Like when I had found out that I was going to miscarry…How would I have gotten through that without him? So how could someone be so incredible one moment and then turn around and forge my name on a credit card the next? And why? I looked up to see a hawk gliding over the mountain, circling some unsuspecting prey. Was there more that I didn’t know?
I checked the time on my watch. I was already fifteen minutes late to meet Allie. The guitarist at whose home the band was practicing lived in the
Mission District, so even if I left immediately I would be forty minutes late. I bit down on my lip. The last thing I wanted to do was hang out with a rock band. But then again maybe there was another reason I should go.
I got back in the car and drove to the Mission. It took me a little while to locate the address. I parked just a few doors down and took the time to put my Club in place before following the beat of the drums to the correct garage. The garage door was closed but I found a little side door that was unlocked. Judging from the noise level, I knew knocking would be a useless endeavor. I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
At first no one noticed me. Allie’s back was to me. She was lying on her side on top of some tattered carpet strips spread across the floor. She had her head propped up with one hand and was fingering the edges of a large red plastic cup with her other. The band was busy jamming away. Jeremiah was on the guitar. He was the first to see me. He didn’t say anything or let on to the others that I was there. He just locked eyes with me and took a step forward. It may have been my imagination but he seemed to have gotten better since the last time I heard him play. A slow smile crept over his rather generous mouth and his eyes slanted dangerously. I watched as his fingers worked the guitar strings as if they had a mind of their own. His body was rocking back and forth and I could tell that he was in a different place. Tad had been in a “different place” when I had seen him last, too, but I actually understood Jeremiah’s journey. He could take me along if I just gave in to it. I closed my eyes and let the music enter me. I felt myself sway slightly and my hips began to rock to the bass pounding in the background.
“April!” I snapped my eyes open at the sound of Allie calling my name. Jeremiah let his hands go limp and the music stopped. He grinned at me and for a second I felt as if we had both done something that we should feel ashamed of. But that was ridiculous. He had just played his music, and I had just listened.
Allie got up and draped her arm around my waist before giving me a friendly shake. “Where have you been? I thought you forgot about me.”
“No one could forget about you, Allie,” I said, struggling to keep my tone light. “I just totally lost track of time. Forgive me?”
“Always.” She gestured to the three guys I didn’t know, “April, this is Dallas, Gary and Paul. And of course you already know Jeremiah.”
We all exchanged quick hellos and small talk. After a few minutes Jeremiah suggested that the group take a half-hour break. Dallas and Gary went inside the house, so it was just Paul, Allie, Jeremiah and me.
I liked Paul. He was funny in a crude kind of way and he was clearly very into Allie. I could tell by the way he smiled at her while fiddling with his guitar pick. “Hey, um, you still want to see those records I was tellin’ you about?” he asked. “I even have some old 45s from the seventies. You’ll dig ’em.” It was clear from the way he angled his body toward Allie that the invitation did not extend to Jeremiah or me.
Allie smiled and looked up at me to see if I was okay with being abandoned.
I nodded and gently shoved her away. “Go, I know you love that kind of stuff.” Allie couldn’t care less about 45s, but as long as he had a mattress and a naughty attitude she’d be a happy camper.
Jeremiah stuck his thumbs into the empty belt loops of his jeans and transferred his weight back onto his heels. “So you thirsty? Allie’s drinking margaritas. I can mix you one if you want.”
I started to refuse but then an image of Tad punching a hole in his office wall flashed before my eyes. “Actually, a margarita would be great.”
I followed Jeremiah inside. Dallas and Gary had already made themselves a sandwich and were in the living room watching football on a television that was probably a few years older than me.
Jeremiah directed me to the kitchen. He reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a half-full blender of what looked like margarita mix. “You like it strong?”
“What?” I felt my cheeks heat up.
“Do you like your margaritas strong?”
“Oh…yeah…strong is good.”
Jeremiah mixed the drink quickly and poured it into a plastic cup identical to the one Allie had been drinking from. He sat down at a small brown kitchen table that someone had probably picked up at a neighborhood garage sale.
I pulled out a chair opposite him and took a long drink.
“You okay?”
I stared at the slushy liquid in my cup. “What’s the deal between you and Tad?”
Jeremiah shifted uncomfortably in his chair but remained silent.
“What aren’t you telling me, Jeremiah? What part of Tad’s past do you think I need to be protected from?”
“I don’t think you need to be protected from any of the shit Tad may or may not have pulled in the past.” Jeremiah rolled his knuckles along the wood surface of the table. “What’s got me worried is the shit he might try to pull now.”
I heard a crinkling noise and realized that I was squeezing my cup a little too tightly. I relaxed my grip and pulled on my reserves of courage. “I need you to be a little more specific. Is there a reason you don’t like him? Did you have a thing for Jackie?”
“Nah, Jackie and I were buds, but she was a bit much for me. She’s a little too emotionally charged.”
“Tad says she’s a pathological liar.”
“Pathological? No, that’s overstating it, but she has been known to put a weird spin on the truth. I remember her telling me about this dude she’d been dating—claimed he had smacked her around and she had a bruise on her cheek to prove it. So I went to the guy’s house to set him straight. When he came to the door I could see he had been majorly worked over. Jackie’d given him a black eye, busted his lip open and bloodied his fucking nose. Then I find out she threw the first punch. Now, I know that there’s no excuse for hitting a woman, but if some chick tried to use my face as a punching bag I’d take the bitch down.” He shrugged as if to apologize for any possible offense I might have taken. “So I figured the shit she told me about Tad needed to be taken with a grain of salt.”
“All right.” I waved my hand in the air impatiently. “I promise I’ll take it with a whole liter of salt, just tell me what she said.” Jeremiah hesitated again. I leaned forward and grabbed his hand. “Come on, you want to tell me and I think…I think I really need to know.”
Jeremiah nodded. His eyes took on that vacant look of someone who was remembering the past. “One of Jackie’s problems is that she’s a my-way-or-the-highway kind of babe. But what’s cool about her is she knows her faults and she owns up to them. What you see is what you get. No manipulation, no guessing games. Tad’s the total opposite, or at least he used to be. He comes off as this real laid-back guy who will bend over backward to help his friends. But when you think he’s helping you get what you want, what he’s really doing is convincing you to want what he wants. He was just as controlling as Jackie but he hid it a lot better.”
The sound of cheering coming from the next room brought Jeremiah back to the present. He got up and pulled a beer out of the refrigerator. “Never understood what the big deal was over football. If you’re not going to play the game, then why would you get all excited about watching a whole bunch of grown men roll all over each other?”
“Is that what Jackie told you?” I whispered, ignoring his last comment. “That he was a control freak disguised as a laid-back boyfriend?”
“No, that’s just my take on it.” Jeremiah used a bottle opener to pop the top off his beer. He sat down again without getting a glass. “Jackie…Jackie told me he was unstable.”
I felt my heart skip a beat. “Define unstable.”
“See, that’s the thing…I can’t. Even she couldn’t really put her finger on it. She said he’d get seriously wigged out over stupid shit. Like she would ask him if he ever planned to go to Atlanta to see his parents and the guy would just lose it.”
I felt my back stiffen, this was sounding too familiar. “Tad’s parents are in G
eorgetown,” I said absently.
“Really? Shit, I would have sworn it was Atlanta. Anyway, she thought he was a little whacked, and when they split up he got…weird.”
“Weird?” I could barely speak. I could hear Tad making those comments about his partners, and then there was the way he had stared at the wall in Barcelona….
Jeremiah was looking in every direction but mine. “Yeah, but like I said, Jackie’s weird, so I…”
“Just explain Tad’s weird.”
Jeremiah lifted his beer, and just before drinking he mumbled, “He used to scratch the walls.”
EIGHTEEN
The sweet slushy margarita oozed onto my skin as my hand squeezed the life out of my plastic cup.
Jeremiah jumped up and grabbed a few paper towels and tried to catch the spill before it reached the floor. I pushed my chair back without bothering to dry the ends of my sleeves, which were now soaked. “I gotta go.”
“April, did something happen?”
“No, no, I was just wondering why you acted so weird around him, that’s all.”
Jeremiah shrugged.
I had thought I could handle this conversation but he had hit too close to home. I didn’t allow myself to think about the scratching and I certainly wasn’t ready to hear about it from Jeremiah. Somehow, talking to him about my problems with Tad felt like a betrayal. “Look, I have to find Allie.”
“Well…Paul’s record collection is in his room and if they haven’t come out by now…”
“Got it, could you just tell her that I had to leave?”
I turned to run out, but Jeremiah grabbed my arm. “April, what happened?”
I looked down at his hand, but not with the warning glare I had given Tad. I wanted him to hold on to me. In fact, I realized that I wanted him to hold on to a lot more than my arm, and that was not good. I gently pulled away and Jeremiah didn’t resist.