Destruction: The Distraction Trilogy #2

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Destruction: The Distraction Trilogy #2 Page 28

by Murphy, A. E.


  When I’m certain that Professor Franklin is distracted, I check the screen, frowning when I see the word ‘UNKNOWN’ in my missed call list. Now my interest is really piqued.

  I get a text not long after the call. It’s from Isaac’s dad.

  John: Isaac has been arrested. Call me when you can.

  A startled cry escapes me as my hand flies to my mouth.

  My classmates’ eyes come to me as I quickly gather my belongings and race down the aisle between the desks, muttering my apologies as I go.

  “Eloise?” Professor Franklin calls after me. Kira also shouts my name but doesn’t come after me, fortunately.

  I stop running as soon as I exit the lecture and immediately call John.

  “What’s happened?”

  I hear him sigh. “I wish I knew. All I know is that he’s been arrested for assault.”

  “Assault?” But Isaac wouldn’t… he’s not the kind of person who just goes around attacking people. “There’s got to be some kind of mistake.”

  “It happened while he was at work. He has been trying to contact you.”

  His solicitor? “Oh my god. What should I do?”

  “I’m not sure. There isn’t much you can do. He’ll be out tomorrow.”

  “Are… are you okay?”

  “We’re all fine here. I have to go. Good luck.” He hangs up, leaving me shaken and panicked. I’m not sure what to do now.

  I head back into class, figuring there’s little I can do at home. It’s not like I can get back to Isaac and, even if I could, what would I do? I should just wait for his phone call if they allow him another one.

  Will I need to call a solicitor for him?

  No, what would I say? I don’t have a clue what kind of situation Isaac is in.

  Fucking hell, Isaac, what have you done you stupid, stupid man?

  Ducking my head, I rush up the aisle back to my usual seat and quickly pull my work back out. I really hope Franklin doesn’t give me a hard time for interrupting his lesson.

  I just wish I knew what happened. Who did he assault and why? He was fine when he left me in Cambridge eleven days ago. He hasn’t mentioned anything. I know he’s been pissed off with Tony, but he told me that Tony hasn’t been on his side of the building for the past week.

  Maybe that’s it. Maybe he’s had a fight with Tony?

  God fucking damn it all.

  Kira: What’s wrong? Is everything okay?

  I glance at her. She’s a few rows down and at a table with one of her other friends today. We didn’t come to class together so ended up in different seats.

  Eloise: I’ll tell you later.

  She nods, winks, and spins around to face the front.

  I get another text as soon as I start taking notes. I guess there’s no harm in opening it now.

  Damon: I’m meeting you after class. There’s this Mexican place about twenty minutes away that I’m dying to try.

  I’m really not in the mood, but at the same time I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts.

  Eloise: Group thing?

  Damon: Did you want to invite Kira?

  Eloise: I don’t mind.

  Damon: Brilliant, I’ll pick you up.

  Damon and I became close over the break. We went to the cinema twice, went for walks together, chilled at his and watched movies and emptied his parents cupboards of their junk food when they had a date night. Most of this we did with Kira, who I know is crushing on him something bad. He’s not interested in dating though; he told me himself. He’s only wanting friendships and fun. I think that’s why we get on so well. Because I’m married we’re strictly platonic and it works well for us.

  Class flies by. I make sure I’m one of the first to leave so I can avoid everybody on my way out. I race out of the building, my heart thumping with each step. I want answers from my husband and I want them now.

  I call the Police station back in my home town but due to confidentiality rights and other bullshit laws, they can’t tell me a thing.

  By the time Damon arrives in his car, I’m seething and on the verge of tears.

  “Uh-oh,” he says as I climb into the car. “Somebody doesn’t look happy.”

  I sniff unattractively and blow my nose into a tissue that I find in my pocket.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  I open my mouth to talk but nothing comes out. I don’t know what to tell him. He wouldn’t understand.

  “Well, we can talk about something else then.”

  I smile and lean over the console to kiss his cheek. “Thanks for picking me up.”

  “No problem.”

  I open the glove compartment and pull out a packet of cookies. He always has snacks in his glove compartment.

  He rolls his eyes and pulls away from the curb. “How you stay so slim I have no idea.”

  “Cookie?”

  He nods and opens his mouth. I shove a full one in, laughing as I go.

  “I…arn…iche… ich.”

  I have no idea what he just said. He reaches for me with his left hand and starts ruffling my hair with his fingertips.

  “Stop,” I laugh, pressing myself against the door in an effort to escape him. “You’re so annoying.”

  He turns to face me, his eyes crossed and his mouth wide open showing me the chewed cookie in his mouth.

  “You’re vile… drive already,” I laugh, pushing his cheek with the tip of my finger so he turns back towards the road.

  Laughter really does cure all. Even if it’s only a temporary reprieve from my warring emotions, I’m glad for the break.

  Isaac

  The first thing I do when I arrive home is crack open a bottle of whiskey that I purchased using the last fifty quid to my name. I pour two fingers into a tumbler and down it, relishing the burn it leaves in my throat.

  I pour another two fingers and on my empty stomach I feel it immediately. It goes straight to my head but does little to wipe the memories of the night before.

  Never before in my life have I been arrested and detained in a cell. It was cold and damp, and it stank of urine and sterilising agents, which clearly weren’t doing their job. There was no window in the room I was in, just a toilet without a seat and a thick door with a flap that they passed me food and drink through like some kind of animal.

  I didn’t sleep a wink.

  The reality of my situation is lying heavy on my mind. I have no job. I now have a criminal record and an upcoming trial where they’ll dish out my punishment for assaulting Tony. We’re behind on our mortgage, gas, electricity and fuck knows what else and we’re behind by a lot.

  I’m screwed. We’re screwed.

  My phone has too many messages and missed calls. I ignore them all. I need a plan. I need to think of something.

  My life is fucking over.

  Two years ago I had it all: the amazing teaching job in a brilliant school in my favourite city in the UK; I had an expensive apartment that I owned, overlooking a gorgeous park that I walked through frequently. I had girls on my phone who I’d call and they’d be there in seconds, satisfying all of my needs.

  I had it all.

  I had the life that most men can only dream of. I wasn’t rich, but I definitely wasn’t poor.

  I had friends, albeit not good ones, but I had them all the same.

  Now what do I have?

  I look around my house, which is far from finished and is, in all honesty, a piece of shit building in a town I hate, near two jobs where I’ve failed to keep my hands to myself. I have a wife who never calls, texts or visits. I have a wife who I never call, text or visit.

  What the fuck kind of life is this? Stress, bills, money, food, decorating, keeping her happy… The list goes on and on and I can’t for the life of me recall why the fuck I thought any of this was a good idea to begin with.

  I throw my glass and watch it shatter against the far wall by the window. I feel no remorse for shattering it and denting the wall, as pretty soon we probably
won’t have this house anyway.

  Lifting the bottle to my lips, I take another long swig and I don’t stop until oblivion claims me.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Isaac

  “What the hell is happening to you?” My father half yells after he surprises me with an unwelcome visit. “Look at you… Christ… Isaac.” I hear the pain in his tone. “I’m calling Eloise…”

  “Do whatever you like.” I wave him off and pad into the kitchen wearing nothing but my dressing gown. The fridge is empty save for a bottle of rum left over from Christmas.

  “Have you spoken to her at all?”

  I bring the bottle to my lips before he angrily snatches it away.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “Life,” I laugh humourlessly, throwing my hands in the air.

  “I need you… Isaac… right now.” My dad’s sorrowful eyes come to mine. “I need to you to be strong right now.”

  I don’t have the strength to be strong. Can’t he see that I’m falling apart?

  “It’s time.” He tells me, his voice soft and quiet.

  “What’s time?”

  He inhales a shuddering breath and I see the pain in his eyes. “It’s time to put your mother in a nursing home.”

  “Over my dead body!” I practically bellow, my hands fisting at my sides as I glare at my old man. How can he suggest something so ridiculous?

  “It’s not safe for her anymore. It’s time to face facts.”

  “You just want your freedom, don’t you? That’s it really.” I throw at him and watch him lurch back as if I’ve struck him.

  “Are you kidding me? I would give up my life for that woman. I love her more than you could begin to comprehend in that weak mind of yours.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “I’ve taken this step because she keeps getting out. She keeps falling. She keeps hurting herself and this morning she almost got hit by a fucking car. We’re keeping everything locked all of the time yet she’s still escaping. She’s not eating, she’s losing weight, she’s refusing her medication and she’s becoming aggressive and violent as you fucking know!”

  I shake my head, refusing to believe it. “She never wanted to be in a home.”

  “And I don’t want her dead because of my mistake.”

  “She’d probably be better off,” I whisper and immediately regret it. My dad throws the bottle of rum at me and I catch it with both hands.

  “Whatever, Son. I’m done here.” He turns and exits the way he came. I don’t have the energy to follow. He has no idea the kind of shit I’m going through right now. No fucking clue.

  Eloise

  “You sound… stressed,” I say softly, hating the rough edge to his voice.

  “What do you expect? I’m jobless. I have no money, no food…”

  “At least the house is okay for the next five months.” I’m actually kind of glad he put my savings onto the mortgage now. At least we have that. “I’ll send you a hundred over today and I’ll see if I can take some extra shifts this week.”

  “Thank you.”

  I can hear the shame in his tone. I can tell how badly he hates asking me for anything, but he needs it and I’m not going to hold that against him.

  “Are you sure we’re sorted?”

  “I’m sure,” he tells me. “I’m going. I have an interview.”

  “Where…” The line goes dead. “At?”

  “Everything okay?” Kira asks as I retake my seat beside her in the café where we always study with Damon.

  I nod. “Do you think there’s a chance I can convince you to take me home in a few weeks? Seeing as I’m going to be spending Valentines with you...”

  “Of course.” She smiles, resting her head on my shoulder. “Just let me know when you’ve got a few days off work and we’ll go.”

  “I have the best friends any girl could have.”

  “And don’t you forget it.” She checks her watch and taps Damon on the wrist. He looks up from his books. “I’ve got to run.” I forgot about her doctor’s appointment. I’ve become such a self-absorbed person.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with?”

  She shakes her head. “I’ll be fine and you’d only be sat in the waiting area anyway. Stay, study. Have fun.”

  I give her a tight hug and watch her go before pulling out my phone and texting my husband.

  Eloise: Kira said she’s going to bring me down in a few weeks.

  He doesn’t respond… he never responds anymore.

  “You cool?” Damon asks, probably noticing how I keep checking my phone.

  Nope, I’m not cool, but I don’t say that. Instead I pull up my big girl panties, give him my best smile and reassure him that all is okay in my world.

  It’s not a total lie. Sure things are rough right now, but I don’t know if we should be panicking. Isaac keeps telling me that everything is okay; he just needs a job.

  Unfortunately I don’t believe him.

  John: Have you spoken to Isaac yet?

  Eloise: Yes, he’s fine, he’s got a job interview today.

  “You coming, Elle?” Damon asks, holding out his hand for me. I take it without thinking as my eyes focus on the incoming message.

  John: Is that what he told you? Don’t be so naïve, Elle.

  I frown and shove my phone in my pocket. I’m not being naïve. Choosing to believe and support my husband is nobody’s business.

  I don’t respond and I’m not sure why.

  Maybe because I know deep down that Isaac is lying and everybody else knows it too. Sometimes denial makes for a happier life.

  ******

  The next two weeks blur by. Work is hard, school is hard and study groups are hard; everything is hard. The only thing that gets me by is the fact I have amazing friends. They’re my rocks right now when nobody else is.

  Isaac is non-existent. He barely talks to me for longer than a few seconds; he doesn’t text me and the last few times I’ve called he’s been so drunk he didn’t even recognise my voice.

  It’s killing me. I can’t cope.

  This is why Hayley is picking me up and dropping me home for three days. My dad also wants to talk to me about my suffering grades. How he knows, I have no idea. They are a lot better since last semester though, so he can’t be that angry. I’ve been studying my butt off. It’s just not enough.

  My dad calls me just as Hayley is dropping me off. I don’t answer, though. I know he’s eager to see me and I miss him too, but I have to prioritise and right now Isaac is my priority.

  “You’re ignoring me then.” My dad’s voice startles me and I spin to face him. He’s leaning against his dark BMW, a playful smile on his face.

  “What are you doing here?” I have a feeling it’s not to see me.

  “I was just having a word with your husband.”

  My eyes narrow. “What does that mean?”

  He holds his hands up defensively as he walks towards me. “Nothing, we were just having a chat. Though… he’s in no state to chat, let’s put it that way.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I turn back to my house but my dad’s fingers wrap around my bicep, stopping me in my tracks.

  “I came to talk to him about your shitty grades… I think I figured out why your grades are so bad.” He looks a little angry but not overly so. Then his eyes soften, along with his body, and the grip on my arm loosens. “Call me when you need me.”

  I notice how he says ‘when’ and not ‘if’.

  “I’m serious, Eloise.”

  Now I’m really nervous.

  I head inside, surprised to find the house empty save for three empty bottles of whiskey on the side, a shattered lamp under the window and a half full bottle of rum on the windowsill.

  My husband is nowhere to be seen. Did my dad say that he’d managed to talk to Isaac or that he wanted to talk to Isaac?

  Eloise: I’m home. What the fuck happened here?


  I set about cleaning up, first the glass and then every other room in the house.

  When Isaac does come home, I’m almost finished hoovering the upstairs.

  He’s in a suit. His hair is smoothed back and he looks rather handsome. I watch him pull his jacket down a little and check himself out in the mirror in the hallway.

  I’m not sure what I was expecting to find when I came home, but this wasn’t it.

  “Hey,” I say from midway up the stairs.

  He looks at me as he unbuttons his jacket and hangs it on the coat hooks on the wall. “Hey.”

  Just hey, nothing else, not a smile or anything. Just a look of indifference. It cuts me straight to the core and I feel a little winded.

  “Where were you?”

  “Job interview.” He steps past me and heads for the kitchen. I follow, watching him with cautious eyes. Something feels really wrong about this.

  He’s cold, extremely cold, in the sense that he holds zero emotion when looking at me. It’s almost like he doesn’t know me, or even like me.

  “That’s good, where at?”

  “At a school in Boston.”

  A school? Boston? “That’s… great, right?”

  He nods, smiling a little. “Yeah, I think I’ve got it. But we’ll see.”

  Boston is an hour away. “Are you allowed to teach?”

  “I’ve had no charges brought against me for teaching. I’m pretty sure it’s safe, just not at my dad’s school.”

  “But… your mum, Boston is so far out…”

  The shutters come down in his eyes and his lips thin into white lines as he turns and opens the fridge, revealing empty shelves save for a bottle of fresh orange juice which he downs in one. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

 

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