by Kay Maree
“Y’know, it’s hardly fair that you can dump all of this on me. I’ve never had to deal with the finances. You’ve never allowed me to.”
“Well, now is a good time to learn then, isn’t it?” He didn’t bother hiding his smirk this time. He was enjoying this, taunting her.
“Don’t we have some money in savings? I mean, after all these years?”
“I do, but that’s my money. It’s your turn to pay the bills now.”
“That’s not fair,” she whined.
“Fair? Is it fair that I have supported you all these years, and now you are refusing to do the same for me?” An evil, sadistic laugh sprung from his chest, and he tossed his head back against the couch.
Her hands itched to wrap around his exposed neck, and she curled them into fists. She wasn’t violent, had never had an urge like that before, and it frightened her. He was her husband, she had promised to love, honour, and obey him. Where were these evil thoughts coming from?
“I’ll keep trying,” she whispered in resignation. She had little else choice.
* * * *
Several days later, she finally hit the jackpot. It was minimum wage, but she didn’t expect anything more. Graeme Fillimot was her new boss. She finally had a boss. He told her he was “impressed by her tenacity.” He had gone on to explain that his own mother had found herself in a similar position after his father had died unexpectedly. That she had “pounded the pavement” and “knocked on every door” until someone had eventually given her a job.
She was hired as his personal assistant, but mostly that meant fielding his calls, booking appointments, and greeting customers as they walked through the office door. She wasn’t even sure what he did. Fillimot Settlements, she thought, had something to do with divorce settlements. Most of the customers were middle-aged women. Not that any of that mattered, it was paying the mortgage.
“I suppose you think you’re something special now that you have a job?” Karl threw at her one evening, several weeks into her role.
“Well, I do like it there,” she admitted.
“Just don’t be getting all full of yourself.” He curled his upper lip up in disgust. “Your place is still here, by my side.”
“I know,” she placated.
“Well, just don’t you forget it, and while you’re there, you’ve been neglecting the housework. The bathroom is disgusting.”
“You’re home all day.”
Karl’s eyes narrowed, taking her in. “Are you challenging me?”
“No,” she sighed. “It’s just I’m working forty hours a week and . . . ,”
“You can do it on the weekend.”
Kiera couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He was serious. He expected her to keep up with all the housework while she worked full-time, and he lay on the couch.
“But I . . . ,”
“Don’t start with me. I looked after you for years,” he started again. “Oh, and by the way, I’m going away next week.”
“Where are you going?”
“It’s none of your damn business where I’m going.”
“I think it is, actually,” she thrust a hand to her hip and confidently lifted her gaze to meet his. “You wouldn’t allow me to go anywhere without telling you.”
“That’s different.” He waved a hand in her face. “If you must know, I’m going fishing with Tyson.”
“Tyson? Who’s Tyson? The only Tyson I can think of is that doctor.” Her mind wandered back to her visit with the gynaecologist.
“Yes, Tyson Hislop. We are going fishing together next week. He has a boat, and we will be heading out on Monday morning, probably back at the end of the week.”
“With Doctor Hislop?”
“Do you have a problem with that?” He tilted his head to the side with a bemused look.
“No . . . I guess not. It’s just . . . weird I guess. I didn’t know you were friends with him.”
“There’s probably a lot you don’t know about me then, isn’t there?” he chuckled as he turned and walked away, leaving her struggling with this new information. Karl and Tyson Hislop? Then the penny dropped and it all kind of made sense. Tyson was Mariah’s brother.
* * * *
It was a pleasant week with Karl out of the house. She didn’t have to rush home to fix his dinner or sweep the floor when he carelessly removed his shoes and left a pile of dirt. She even treated herself to a takeaway meal; Karl would never approve of that. She made sure to bury the remains of the rubbish deep inside the bin, in case he checked when he arrived home.
It was meant to be a holiday for him, but with him gone, it felt like a holiday for her, even if she had to work the entire time. Waking up in the morning was a breeze. She fixed herself toast and ate in front of the TV. She felt like a rebellious teenager all over again, doing all the things she knew Karl would disapprove of. Finally, her life was beginning to feel like her own. She had a job, and she actually left the house five days a week. Her life had not held so much purpose since . . . she couldn’t remember when.
Chapter Fifteen
“Get home, now!”
“I thought you weren’t coming home until tomorrow.” She glanced at the clock on the waiting room wall. It was four P.M., and Mr. Fillimot had two more appointments for the day. She had agreed to work late, believing Karl wouldn’t mind. She should have known he would mess up her plans.
“Well, I’m home now, and this place is disgusting. What have you been doing?”
Her stomach turned. She had been lazy while he was gone, leaving her clothes on the floor, dishes in the sink. It had seemed alright at the time. It wasn’t as if she was going to leave it there. She had no intention of him finding the place in such a state.
“I’m sorry. I promise to clean up as soon as I get home.”
“You will do it now.”
“I, ah . . . I . . . ,” She stumbled over her words, knowing they would incite his anger further. “Mr. Fillimot has asked me to work back tonight.”
“Is Mr. Fillimot your husband?” he mimicked her voice as he pronounced her boss’ name.
“No . . . you are.”
“Then you will do as I say. Get your ass home, right now, or I so help me God.”
So help me, God? What did that even mean? Was he threatening her?
“I’ll see what I can do,” she whispered, covering the mouthpiece of the phone, as she saw her boss’ door open.
“This is not negotiable, Kiera,” he barked, right before the phone line went dead.
“Are you okay?” Graeme Fillimot asked, concern etched across his brow.
“Ah, family emergency,” she said, although it almost sounded like a question.
“Well, you better go then. I’ll be alright here.”
“But I feel terrible,” she explained as she rose from her chair and pulled her jacket over her shoulders.
“Don’t. I’ll be fine.”
“Thank you, Mr. Fillimot, I really appreciate this, and I’m so sorry.”
“Graeme,” he corrected her. Not for the first time. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
She rushed down the small flight of stairs and into the street. It would still take her half an hour to get home, that was if she didn’t have to wait too long for the bus. Perhaps now she had a job, Karl would allow her to buy a car. He had never let her before, she was easier to keep track of without. It was just a thought, and tonight wouldn’t be the ideal time to broach that subject.
* * * *
It had taken close to forty-five minutes to get to her front door. While the bus had arrived on time, there had been a traffic accident, and the trip home was slow. Making things worse, the man sitting beside her seemed to be wearing a twenty-four-hour deodorant that had given up the ghost about twelve hours earlier.
She sucked in a deep, calming breath before opening the door. She fully expected Karl to be in a horrible mood afte
r the phone call she’d received.
“Oh, there is my beautiful wife,” he called as her foot hit the carpeted living room. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
Karl’s arms wrapped around her, and she stiffened. What the hell was happening? He had basically threatened her an hour earlier, demanded she leave work early to come home and clean the house. This was not what she was expecting at all.
Peering over his shoulder, she caught a glimpse of an elderly couple seated on the couch in her living room. There was something oddly familiar about them. The man sported a long, white beard that reminded her of an old-time Santa. His hair was thin but covered his head, and thin, wire-framed glasses were perched on the end of his nose. The woman was plump, and her hair was permed into tight curls that sat close to her scalp. It was much too dark to be her natural colour.
“I’d like you to meet my grandparents,” Karl announced, nudging her forward.
“Grandparents?” she whispered. Karl had never mentioned grandparents.
“How lovely to meet you,” the man said, extending a gnarled hand to hers.
“Finally,” the woman added, wrapping her arms around Kiera and pulling her in for a tight hug.
“We have been searching for Karl for a long time,” the woman explained. “After we lost our daughter, Karl’s mother, we were grief-stricken.”
Kiera’s gaze turned to Karl, who perched on the side of the couch, his thumbs twisting between his fingers. It was a sign she knew as nerves. While to the casual observer his face was serene, his fake smile disguised something much darker.
“We wanted to take Karl in all those years ago, but we just couldn’t. You understand, don’t you, son?” the old man added in.
“We were both still working,” the woman continued. “We were running our own business, and of course we had a funeral to pay for. We felt rotten that we hadn’t kept in touch with Karl, but we knew you’d understand.” She turned and smiled at her husband, who offered her a reassuring pat on the knee.
“You do know Karl was in and out of foster homes for years?” Kiera asked, a sense of betrayal urging her on.
“It was for the best. We knew he would be looked after, and look at him,” the grandmother waved her hand in the air. “He’s married. Has a beautiful home.”
“You think it’s been all plain sailing, do you?” Karl shot her a look that said shut-up, but she couldn’t shut-up. She loved this man, had stood by him when no one else would, and here were his family, his own flesh and blood making excuses for why they never took care of him. “He was a little boy. He had been through enough. He had lost his mother, and he needed someone to love him. He suffered terribly in those places, but you wouldn’t know that, would you? No, you were too busy grieving over the daughter who threw her son away in favour of drugs. Maybe if you had shown her some love, she might still be alive today.”
“Kiera, that’s enough,” Karl snapped.
“No, it’s not,” she argued back. “They should shoulder some of the responsibility for the way their daughter treated you.”
“Right then,” the man said, struggling to his feet and holding a hand out to the woman. “We’ll be off then.”
“Please,” Karl laughed nervously. “Don’t go. Kiera didn’t mean any of that, did you love? Why don’t you go make some cuppa’s, huh?” He shot her a menacing look.
“No, I think this was clearly a mistake. We’re sorry to have bothered you.”
Karl shuffled from foot to foot, and Kiera knew she had done the wrong thing. He had wanted to connect with these people, and she had blown it.
“It was lovely to meet you both,” she lied, hoping to calm the situation once more.
“I wish we could say the same,” the old man remarked before ushering his wife to the front door. “Good-bye, Karl.”
They both shook Karl’s hand, the grandmother also giving him a quick hug and shooting her a hard glare. Kiera didn’t care if they didn’t like her. She stood by what she’d said, she just wished Karl had been more supportive of her. When the door closed behind them, silence fell like a shroud over the room.
“What the fuck was that all about? Those were my grandparents. My only living family and you think it’s okay to march in here and carry on like that?”
Kiera raised and dropped her shoulders. “It wasn’t your fault what happened to you. How could I just sit there and let them justify themselves? Just so they can alleviate their own guilt? It’s wrong, Karl.”
“I know you’re right. I just maybe hoped that we could . . . I don’t know. Maybe have some kind of relationship?”
“I won’t apologise for what I said. I have been with you for a long time, and I’ve seen firsthand how much your family hurt you when they should have been the ones to take you in and love you.”
“I love you, Kiera,” he sighed. “You have always been the one to stand by me and have been all the family I’ve needed. I’m sorry for all the things I’ve put you through.”
The sorrow in his words melted her anxiety, and the sadness in his eyes expressed what she needed to know. She had stood up for him knowing it could go either way, but he saw her, saw it, for what it really was. Threading her fingers through his beard, she smiled up at him and repeated the words he had often said to her.
“I love you, too, Karl. We belong together.”
Chapter 16
The baby in the waiting room bellowed, and his mother mindlessly rocking the pram back and forth barely looked up from her phone.
“May I?” she asked, approaching cautiously, arms out-stretched.
“Yeah, anything to shut it up,” the woman deadpanned.
Kiera leaned over and scooped the tiny child from the pram, his little blue jumpsuit indicating it was little boy, not an ‘it.’
“Shhhh, what’s up little man?” she soothed as the baby fussed and wiggled against her chest. It felt odd to hold a baby. Although she had craved one of her own, she had very little experience with them.
“He probably wants a bottle,” the woman announced.
“Do you have one?”
“Yeah, in his bag,” the woman gestured to the bag in the pram’s undercarriage but made no attempt to fetch the item. “Needs heating.”
Kiera held the bottle in one hand, her other wrapped firmly around the child. His crying had settled, but he still squirmed in her arms.
“I, ahh . . . don’t know how?” Kiera admitted.
“Have you got a microwave?” The woman finally looked up from her phone, and for the first time, Kiera saw the dark ring below her left eye. She looked away. “What, haven’t you seen someone with a black eye before?”
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, clutching the baby closer. Now that she could see the woman clearer, it seemed she was not as old as Kiera had first thought. In fact, closer to her own age. “The microwave is just through there, if you heat the milk, I don’t mind feeding him.”
Snatching the bottle from Kiera’s hand, the woman made her way into the staff kitchen, and within minutes, the microwave dinged, heralding its readiness. The woman returned, thrusting the bottle in Kiera’s direction and going back to what seemed like a far more important task.
Nestling behind her desk, Kiera jostled the baby in an attempt to get him positioned right. She had seen it on television, it looked easy enough. In real life, it was harder than it looked. She suddenly felt she had too many arms and not enough hands, but the baby knew what to do, and before long, he had settled into the crook of her arm and was suckling away, a look of pure bliss settling over his tiny face.
When Graeme called the lady into this office, she nodded her approval, and Graeme flashed her a knowing smile. He didn’t know her story, except that she hadn’t worked before. He knew nothing of her struggle to have a child of her own. It was something she couldn’t imagine she would ever share. But as the little boy rested peacefully in her arms with a glazed over, milk-drunk look on his face, her heart
broke just a little more with the reality that she would never hold her own child this way.
* * * *
“I felt so sorry for this poor woman,” she told her husband later that day. “On the one hand, I felt angry at her for neglecting her baby, but when I saw the bruising on her face . . . ,”
“I’ve got no time for men that abuse their wives,” He shook his head in apparent disgust. “They think they can get away with throwing their fists around. They should be locked up and have the key thrown away. I would never hit you.”
She watched on and listened as he ranted, retelling the stories of his past, of seeing one of his foster mothers cowering in the corner as her husband walloped her over and over. He recalled how he had tried to step in, but at twelve, he had been no match for the brute of a man. How he’d vowed he would never hit a woman in anger.
His words reverberated through her as he told her again how he loved her and would never do anything to hurt her. He had hurt her, though. He had thrown things in anger. He had smashed plates, cups, even a television once back in the early days. They hadn’t had the money to replace it, but he had never hit her. She guessed she should be grateful for that.
They sat in silence for the remainder of the night. She’d read once it was a good sign sitting comfortably in silence with your partner, not having to make small talk, but it was of little reassurance to her. Mostly she just felt lonely. She longed for the days when they would talk all night until sunrise. She supposed it was normal when you had been with someone for so long. Ten years was a long time, they didn’t have much left to talk about.
* * * *
“Is everything alright at home, Kiera?” Graeme asked, out of the blue one morning.
“Yeah, of course, it is,” she quipped. “Why? Why wouldn’t it be?”
His eyes caught hers, and she looked away. Life was rarely alright at home. Karl was like a bear with a sore head. She wished he’d get a job because she was positive that was most of his problem. Much of the time, she felt she was walking on eggshells.