by Olivia Reid
I'd gone through 14 years of being told I was ridiculous, foolish, childish, unworthy. I'd endured hell in that hospital room after I gave him a child, when all I needed to hear was that it was all going to be okay. A hug. A kiss. Some kind of sign that I'd done good. That our daughter was going to be strong and healthy. I needed to hear it from him!
But all I'd gotten was the constant damnation of the hospital staff who had been more than accommodating, to the administrators who had gone out of their way to reassure us.
I needed to be touched.
I needed comfort all those years.
And the only thing I got were calls, fits, temper tantrums, angry messages, passive aggressive texts, questions, and constant, incessant insinuations that I had cheated on him all that time.
Because in the end…it was all about him.
14 years before the crazy finally killed it for me.
14 years before I finally realized…
"It's not about you."
He narrowed his eyes and stepped closer again. "What? Grace, you're mumbling and talking crazy again. Come get in the car with me."
I slapped his hand away and looked him in the eye. "It's not…about…you!"
That got his attention, as well as the attention of everyone in that isle.
"That's just the menopause talking—"
"I am forty-five years old you ass hat!" And yeah…I was screaming. Fourteen years of dealing with this mother fucker and then Michael's betrayal on top of it…I was gone. "I do not have menopause."
"Miss?" one of the men in the isle came close. "Is there a problem?"
I shifted my gaze from this bastard I was chained to for most of my life and nodded. "Yes. This is my ex-husband. I have a restraining order filed on him. He's trying to get me to get in his car. Would you call the police?"
"Grace!" Burt hissed and he was livid. Bright red. I knew that look. I'd slammed my hammer down on one of his buttons. I had embarrassed him.
Gasp!
But the man had his phone out and was dialing nine-one-one.
Burt pointed a finger at the man. "I suggest you put that away. This is between me and my wife."
"Ex wife!" I yelled. My world crashed down around me, as if someone had knocked over the isles of food. They caved one on top of the other until they buried me under them.
We were making a scene. On Thanksgiving Eve. And Burt…hated it.
He snarled at me. "You have got to stop acting crazy, Grace. Now come with me." He actually attempted to grab my arm.
Now, usually this is where the hero would swoop in and smash the bad guy's face with his fists, declare his love and we have the sunset ending.
But my hero was with another woman, love had skipped town with common sense, and it was already dark outside. So this scene was just going to have to settle for a fist with a can of fried onions.
I did it.
I hit him.
Hard.
And it…fucking…hurt!
How do guys do this in shows and movies and people expect this to not be agony for them? I dropped the can of onions and turned around to tuck my hand under my arm and cry. 'Cause…that ow!
I didn't hear the clapping till a few seconds later, accented by Burt's stumbling around. I was surprised when I saw several men surround him as he picked himself up off the floor.
At that moment embarrassment covered me like an outdoor carpet. I turned from the crowd and dashed around the isle next to us and ran for the door. I dropped the aspirin as well. I didn't care where it went. I just wanted out of there, away from people and way the hell away from Burt.
The first person I saw when the double doors opened was Kevin.
He was dressed in the same suit he'd had on that morning, his phone at his ear and his hand tucked inside his jacket. I stopped. He stopped.
Kevin hung up and held out his hands. "Is it you I just got the call on?"
"You got a call on a disturbance in a Kroger?"
"Well, I shop here a lot and my boss knew I was on my way home. Is it Burt?"
Tears still ran down my cheeks. Kevin pulled a radio from his belt and spoke into it, requesting a black and white. The doors opened behind me and I could tell from the look on Kevin's face it was Burt.
I side-stepped out of the way as Kevin put his hand on his holster to expose his gun and hold his other hand out. "Stop right there, Murphy. You are in violation of your restraining order. Turn around and put your hands behind your back."
Burt looked all kinds of indignant, and I saw the bruise forming on the side of his face. I was pretty sure I had one like it on my knuckles. They were still stinging. I didn't know if I was crying from the embarrassment or from the pain anymore.
"I am not under arrest. There is no court of law that can stop me from talking to my wife!"
"She is your ex-wife, Mr. Murphy!" Kevin took a step closer as we gathered another crowd. Several of the people from Isle 6 had followed Burt out. "You are under arrest for violating the law."
He looked at me. "You'd love it if he shot me, wouldn't you? You fucking him too?"
I saw Kevin's patience snap. He was a good foot taller than Burt, and a lot faster and in better shape. He crossed the distance in two strides and knocked Burt across the other cheek. Burt staggered backward and put his hand to his face.
"Police brutality! You saw it! I want him arrested!"
Several of the guys from isle 6 shook their heads and said, "We didn't see nuth'n. You done fell on your head."
No one was going to stand up for him. And the sad part was that he would never understand why.
A black and white pulled up flashing red, blue and white lights. Kevin nodded to Burt. "Arrest Mr. Murphy here. He's in violation of a restraining order filed against him by his ex-wife."
The two uniformed officers took Burt away. He was protesting the entire time, yelling that he was going to have Kevin's job and he would tell Tanae about what I did. Kevin approached me and gently said, "Let me see it." He meant my hand.
I showed it to him under the light and one of the witnesses from isle 6 stepped over. "I'm a doctor. I can take a look at it real quick."
I let him and he worked my hand a little. It hurt and I cried and I didn't even care anymore. He said it didn't appear to be broken but I should have it x-rayed when I could. "Put ice on it. It's going to be stiff. And I'd suggest going back in there and getting that aspirin you dropped." He nodded to both of us and left.
"You okay?"
"No."
He rubbed at his chin. "What's so weird about this is, is that Burt hasn't really touched anyone."
"He tried to grab me in there. That's when I hit him."
"Good girl. But he's going to cause problems."
"Kevin…I can't remember a time when he hasn't." A good dozen events in our marriage surfaced again and I just wanted to drown myself. "I'm never going to be rid of him."
"I would hope he'd find someone else to fixate on, but I don't hate anyone that much." He put his hand out to me and I let him wrap his arms over my shoulders. "You need a ride?"
"I drove. I think I can drive back." He smelled like cigarettes and deodorant. Another day on the job. "You still want to come to Thanksgiving? I mean…if he's arrested, I doubt he'll be out for tomorrow."
"I'll still be there. I need to go process him through and make sure he's in a holding cell for the night."
"Good. Might want to put him by himself or he'll piss off any cell mates and get beaten to death." I felt awful. Just… Drained.
"Grace…"
I knew what was coming as we stood there outside Kroger as last minute shoppers roamed in and out. "Yes?"
"Where's the boy?"
I sniffed. My hand throbbed. "He's with someone else now."
He pulled me closer to him. "I'm sorry."
"No you're not."
Kevin laughed. "No. I'm not. And I'm not going to say the things I want to say because they aren't things you need to hear. You need to
get home, take some aspirin and get a good night's rest."
"Then I need to go back in and get that aspirin. Oh and a can of fried onions."
He steered me back to the door. "Then let me escort you in so no other exes from your past come in and give the neighborhood a bit of excitement."
We strolled inside, arm in arm, but all I could think was Michael betrayed me and my daughter was going to hate me because I got her dad arrested. Yeeah…this was gonna be one great Thanksgiving.
Kyle met me at the door. Kevin had called him and let him know what happened. He helped me undress, ran a bath and poured me a nice shot of something that burned my throat on the way down. He didn't say anything. That's the great thing about best friends.
They know sometimes words weren't necessary.
I lie in the bath and my brain sort of went on auto pilot as I thought about the sudden weird and dark turn my life just took. I had those same worried, apprehensive feelings again, the ones I experienced after I married Burt and realized the man was bug nuts crazy.
I decided that new rules of relationships had to go in place, at least for me. If another man wanted a relationship with me, I needed full disclosure of their past relationships, a copy of their psyche profile and a monetary deposit in case they lied. Kind of like an escrow account.
The worst thing about how I was feeling was the seriousness of those thoughts. At that moment I never wanted to see another non-gay man in my life.
Kyle came in and told me to make more bubbles because my girl parts were showing. I stuck my tongue out at him as I ran more water in the tub and poured more bubble stuff in. The fajitas were done and he wanted to know if I wanted to eat.
My stomach answered him, echoing in the bathroom and we both laughed. I got out and dried off before I put on the ugliest but comfortable pair of pajamas I owned and joined Kyle at the table. He had it all out and ready, complete with refried beans, cheese, and salsa. I wasn't a big fan of guacamole. Looked like baby poop to me.
And I should know.
We ate with the evening news on. The weather was going to get colder, with a chance of sleet for the next day. I couldn't remember if it'd been that cold outside in the past few days, and that bothered me. I always noticed the weather because fall and winter alway made me feel good.
But Michael had taken my attention away from everyone. Including myself.
"You need to talk."
I twisted the stem of the wine glass as it sat on the table. "My brain's talking. It's getting so loud with ideas and thoughts and just general angry that I can't think."
"That's why you need to talk it out now before tomorrow gets here. You got a house full of family coming, including your daughter, whom you really need to see. She's going to know something's wrong and she's going to want to help."
"Kyle, the minute she finds out her dad's in jail she's going to jump down my shit."
"You don't know that."
"Oh yeah. I do."
We watched the rest of the news in silence. I picked the steak out of the leftovers. Peppers and onions don't do well in the refrigerator.
"Your phone keeps buzzing."
"It's probably Burt calling, demanding it's my job to bail him out."
"No. It's not Burt." Kyle stood and stepped into the kitchen. He retrieved my phone and handed it to me. "It was driving me nuts while you were in the bath so I looked at. He's called you over sixty times, Grace. If he were the sick bastard player we both assumed he was, I don't think he'd waste that much of his time dialing your number."
I looked at the phone and blinked. Yeah. Michael had called that many times. But no new messages. "Like that's not stalker-y at all."
"I think it might help if you talked. If for no other reason…just yell at him and then kick him out. But you need this before you can face tomorrow."
I narrowed my eyes at Kyle. "That's a pretty different opinion now than the one you had before I left for the store. What happened?"
The door bell rang.
Kyle's expression changed from brow-knitted intense focus to guilt as he got up to answer the door.
Oh no. My eyes popped open wide. "You didn't." I pushed the chair back and pointed at the door. "You invited him over?"
"You need to talk to him."
"Oh God, Kyle. Why? I can't talk to him. Not now. Look at me."
"I know. If you want to change go do it, but I'm answering that door and you're going to talk to him. I've already cleaned off the back deck and there's a bottle of wine and two glasses out there." He was already walking to the steps and down to the front. "If you want to change, do it now."
I did want to change. I mean, hello? I looked awful! My hair wasn't flattened so it was all curls at my chin. My make-up was smeared from crying and my face was puffy. And look what I was wearing.
I ran to my room before he opened the door and slammed the door shut.
For a split second I thought about not opening it back up. Just stay there. Lock it. And then he'd be forced to leave. Lying bastard.
But when I heard the tenor of his voice through the wall my resolve melted and I started yanking clothes out of my closet. I picked out a pair of jeans I knew made my ass look good, added a bra cause the girls were getting heavy, and then pulled on one of my comfy sweaters. I slipped into the bathroom and washed my face and cleaned off the makeup. There wasn't time to reapply and I didn't feel like it.
My hair would take an hour to style. Blah. I ran a brush through it and tucked it behind my ears.
But when I put my hand on the door handle of the bathroom I started shaking. Could I do this? Could I confront him and tell him to leave when all I really wanted to do was throw him down and have angry sex?
Yeah…that's what I was thinking and had been thinking since the second I figured out Kyle had talked to Michael. Damn these hormones and their betrayal.
Screw all things!
It took me several deep breaths, and making sure I didn't hyperventilate, before I could walk out of that bathroom and down the hall. I smelled his cologne first, and then something a bit less masculine and more…feminine.
I stopped at the edge of the stairs as Michael jumped off the couch and faced me. Damn he was beautiful. His hair wasn't brushed back but fell a bit into his eyes as it framed his face. He wasn't wearing his glasses so I could see his intense blue eyes. He wore a black turtle neck and dark jeans. He pushed his hands into his pockets, then pulled them out as if he wasn't sure what to do with them.
Another figure stood and faced me. It was the blonde. But now I could see her face clearly. And she looked familiar.
"Grace," Michael finally stepped around the couch and walked toward me. He didn't get too close, but acted more like a puppy who wasn't sure of the one addressing him. "I'd like you to meet my sister, Melissa. You saw her picture at my place."
Sister.
She'd bleached her hair.
Melissa pushed her brother out of the way and came toward me, her hand out to take mine. "Grace…I've been wanting to meet you. It's very rare my brother falls for anyone and you're all I've heard about for weeks."
I took her hand. It was calloused and not at all like I thought it would feel. She wore several rings and a menagerie of bracelets clinked on her wrists. My eyes landed on strange places as I looked at her. At the choker around her neck with the ankh hanging from it, to the edge of a tattoo just visible under the seam of her button down shirt. Large silver hoops hung from her ears and she wore a lot of makeup.
But it was there. The unmistakeable resemblance of his fraternal twin.
Her grip was strong and I squeaked when she took me into a strong embrace.
Michael was watching us. He wasn't smiling or frowning. He looked…worried.
Melissa let go of me and stood back. "Now, you have to listen to Michael, okay? I'm taking the car and leaving him here. So no kicking him out." She turned and gave her brother a kiss on the cheek. "Call me," was all she said as she waved at Kyle and moved pas
t me down the steps.
When she was gone we three stood in the semi-hall between the kitchen, stairs and living room without speaking until Kyle put his hands together. "Okay. So…you two head outside. I've got a heater on out there and I hung plastic to keep it warm."
Michael turned and followed Kyle outside. I grabbed a blanket off the back of the sofa and trailed behind them.
Wow. Kyle had actually hung little white Christmas lights along the arbor and he really had hung clear plastic from the wood frame. It was toasty and warm with just a hit of cool as the November night found the cracks under the deck.
Two chairs sat facing one another with a small table between them. A bottle of wine, open and breathing and two glasses.
Kyle squeezed my shoulder as he moved past me and shut the door. When he locked it I glared at him through the glass. He smiled and disappeared.
We faced each other for a few minutes before Michael gestured to the chairs. He pulled one out for me and I sat. He took the other and poured the wine but didn't drink. He sat forward in his chair and I just…sat. For the first time since we met, I was nervous.
Why? Because I was sure I'd made a really big mistake.
"Grace, before you say anything I need you to listen to me. Just…listen, okay?"
I nodded and had my hands clenched together, tucked between my thighs, under my blanket.
Michael raked his long fingers through his hair. "I'm not…my family problems aren't easy for me to talk about. I'm not comfortable sharing them with others. So I think that's where I need to start so I can hopefully straighten this mess up and you'll forgive me for not being completely honest with you."
I stared at him, wide eyed. Here I was thinking I'd completely misjudged him and he wanted to show me how wrong I was, just rub it in my face, and he was blaming himself? Why would I think Michael would act this way. He never had before.
And then I realized I was expecting him to act like Burt. Because Burt would find a way to blame me, even when he was wrong. He would twist things so that I would feel as if I had to apologize.