Quiet Lies

by R. L. Griffin

  “Because I’m ending it. I have enough now. He won’t want this to get out, that he beat his wife. That he had affairs. I have proof now. I’ve never been able to get proof. I will tell him I’m leaving and he won’t bother us. I have to believe that it will work.” I have pictures to support abuse. I have the dust up at the school about him fucking some kid’s mom that will help too. I believe I won’t need it, but if I do it’ll work. “It has to work.”

  Our joined hands lay on his striped board shorts, both stained red with my blood.

  Part Two

  There are specific instances where you learn things that will alter your life forever. You’ve decided to handle things a certain way and then you find out that it doesn’t matter what you want and it never did.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  I Am The Fire

  The flight back to Portland has been full of anticipation of finally getting one over on Sebastian and finding my freedom. I have all sorts of plans in play and I’m hoping one will stick. Now I’m walking through the airport, floating through an unexpected abyss and I don’t see any way out or back.

  I will just leave. I stayed with him a year too long. Five years too long. Ten years too long.

  My brain turns over and over as I sit in the back of a cab on the way back to Sebastian’s house. All the flowers blooming signify my favorite time of year in Portland, mid-May. The sun is out, but the breeze keeps people in jeans until June. The car stops suddenly and I realize I’m in the driveway. I blink and hand the driver plenty of cash. Stepping out onto the concrete I realize I’m panting in anxiety. The driver backs out and leaves me standing there, staring into the lights welcoming me “home.”

  A figure moves in the kitchen and I take a deep breath.

  “I can do this.”

  My feet begin moving me toward the front door.

  “You fucking asshole,” I spit. The walls are spinning and closing in on me at the same time. I fight it though. I throw punches so hard my arms hurt.

  “Why are you so angry with me?” he asks, sarcasm dripping from his words, a smirk permanently on his evil face. “Where’s Bash? At your mother’s?”

  “I don’t understand why you would refuse to sign these.” I shove papers in his face stalking over to where he’s casually leaning against the beige granite countertop of our kitchen. I’d actually shocked him with the divorce papers, he hadn’t seen that coming and he let it show on his face for a second. Elation began to fill my shoes and I began to smile, just the corners of my lips.

  “Because,” he pauses and there is a joy in his eyes that scares the shit out of me. The curve of my lips fall and a series of hot and cold flashes skate up and down my spine. I stare dumbfounded at him thinking I may vomit on his shoes or pass out at his feet. Delirium seeps in and I fear for my sanity, my decisions, my life. “I’m dying Rebecca and I’m not going to die without you by my side. We’re a perfect couple, perfect family. This will make me a martyr. I’ll be on the news, our love and my story will be everywhere. We’ll be famous.”

  I take several steps back from him and glare at the once love of my life, the father of my son and the person that destroys everything he touches. Laughter simmers in my gut and threatens to bubble to the surface, but the dismay that he may be playing with me again helps me quash any happiness at the thought of Sebastian six feet underground.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  Confusion grips me like a vice. Elation and suspicion clash in my delicate psyche. A feeling that I thought died a long time ago flickers deep within the cave of my chest. No. I will not have any emotion, I have no emotion except hatred for him. He takes everything. Quotes that I have been repeating to myself all day flash in my brain, one at a time. All the things that I wanted to say dissipate because it may all be over. His eyes show he’s won, yet again. All of this will be on his terms.

  This reality sinks in slowly like the first drop of rain on fabric, where it puddles before it’s absorbed. I’m soaked through with failure. I drown in misery, in inadequacy. No matter how smart I think I am he’s always two steps ahead of me. Grasping on the information I’ve been telling myself for the past week I try to stand up straight, but bend at his words.

  “I’ve been diagnosed with Glioblastoma multiforme, its brain cancer.” His eyes flare with knowledge of accomplishment.

  “Wait...you have brain cancer?” I don’t even recognize my own voice. I collapse into the chair that I was fortunate enough to be right next to when my legs gave out.

  “I was diagnosed about six months ago.”

  “SIX MONTHS!” This is the Sebastian I know. It’s all a game, even his death. I’m seething by his triumph. I need a pill. I need...I need hope back. That grain of sand that I can feel. I need...

  “Just listen please.” Slowly, he reaches out his hand, strokes my hair then puts it behind my ear. His touch alone pushes me off the cliff of the edge of sanity I’ve been precariously on these days.

  “Listen?” I yell, batting his hand away. “Don’t you fucking touch me!” I’m livid, but I’m not exactly sure why. Is it because he was dying or he’d already turned it into a game or the fact he is going to make me stay with him until he died? I came back to beat him and he’s flipped it around on me, again. “You knew you were dying for six months and you’re just now telling me?” It took me thirteen years to leave and now he’s beaten me again, by dying.

  “I was diagnosed with one type of brain cancer first and given a prognosis of years to live. I kept thinking I had time to tell you. I thought if I had ten years why bother you with my fate. Then two days ago I went to a specialist in Portland and the diagnosis came back a little different.”

  I blink. I actually want to smile, but I don’t allow myself. I’m an actress. His black hair goes in and out of focus. I hate him. I blink again. I love him. His lips, ones that I once upon a time couldn’t get enough of, turn up in that ever present smirk I want to slap off his face. His dick grows hard and he grabs my hand to make me feel him.

  “You’re a sick fuck.”

  “According to my new doctor, who is a specialist, I have about three months left to live. My death will be horrific. So I’ve decided to use Oregon’s Death with Dignity Act and die when I want to.” Tada, his face says.

  Tada. My heart cries.

  My life flashes before my eyes and I think of my son. The kid who saved my life on a daily basis when I’ve been contemplating the state of my life and marriage and ending things. The boy who told me it was okay to get a divorce. The reality of how he will take this news actually scares me worse than anything I’ve planned.

  “I…” I begin and then stop when I realize I have nothing to say to this man who took my life so casually and turned it into the worst nightmare imaginable.

  “Listen, Rebecca I know. I’m a dick. I’m an asshole. You’ll be rid of me soon enough.”

  Blink, blink, blink. Rub.

  I jerk my hand out of his.

  A war wages in my mind.

  A crack of light opens.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  Dizzy Lizzy

  Spinning, spinning.

  My forehead placed on the end of a bat and I’m turning in circles. The crowd is counting. One, two, three...the numbers fade as a roar erupts in my ears. The scenery around me blurs and I run. I run as fast as I can to where I thought I would win the game. I never get there, I never win. I fall.

  Sebastian pushes himself off the counter and leaves the room without another word. He leaves me sitting at the kitchen table. I run my hand over our kitchen table, the smooth and rough ridges in the surface. It cost more than I made my first four months of making jewelry out of college. All my mistakes…

  His smug ass just sauntered out of the kitchen like he’s won, like he’d hit a hole in one or something. I guess he thinks he did. I hold my phone in my hand and hit one side of it on the table, then switch to the other side, sliding it through my hands. The sound of it hitting
the table soothes me in a way. This phone has the evidence I need to leave Sebastian. Can I still do it? Can I leave him? Do I wait it out? I don’t know. I don’t have these answers. I have answers to questions that are no longer relevant.

  I glance frantically around the room as if it would provide me the answers to my questions. The problem is I know. I know the answer and my body is already starting to tremble. I try to breathe. He would always win. He hadn’t shown me all his cards yet, he just wanted to drop this little jewel and wait until this settles into my world. Is there a word that means more than hate? Can you feel such venom toward a person that it turns into something bigger? He may be wrong this time. This is the time that counts.

  My eyes close without fight and I remember the first time I ever met the man who ruined my life.

  Nervously, I pull my skirt down to be decent. The cafe where I am waiting for Jessica to meet me for lunch before our first college class ever is bustling with students. I study my schedule to pass the time until I hear the chair across from me screech across the tile floor. My eyes jerk from the table to a guy smirking at me who is definitely not Jessica. His eyes seem to be laughing at me and his dimples make me want to know what is so funny.

  “Hi,” he says before he takes a huge bite of his burrito.

  “Hi,” I whisper looking around for Jessica. I tuck my blue streaked hair behind my ear and try to think of something smart to say.

  “You’re a freshman,” he comments between bites.

  When I look at his burrito so I would stop staring at his lips, I’m mesmerized. The size of his bites are huge. He’s devouring it. If he continues eating like that it will only take four more bites to finish his humongous meal. I look from his burrito to my own peanut butter sandwich. I specifically packed that sandwich because I didn’t want to eat anything to upset my stomach. My hands go from the table to my lap and threaten to move again, my three turquoise rings sparkle in the light.

  I nod without looking at the guy across from me even though I really want to meet those bizarre eyes again.

  “My name is Sebastian.”

  “Sebastian,” I say out loud trying it out on my tongue. “You don’t look like a Sebastian.”

  “Oh yeah,” he laughs. “What do I look like?” Another bite.

  “I don’t know. Frank or Bill?”

  “Hmmmm does that mean I look like your dad?” Smirk.

  I let my eyes run over him. His navy t-shirt is Under Armour and tight on his biceps. What I can see of his stomach is flat and chiseled. It’s obvious he’s an athlete, even with him sitting in front of me stuffing his face with a nasty burrito.

  “Not quite,” I respond quietly. I’m not used to this sort of attention by this sort of guy. For the past three months I haven’t spoken to anyone except my two best friends.

  “Most of my friends call me Bash.”

  “That’s stupid.” As the words escape my mouth, I gasp in shock and then hastily cover it with my hands. “Sorry,” I say quickly, mortified.

  “No, you aren’t.” Sebastian put the remains of his burrito down and stares intently into my eyes. “Your eyes remind me of the lake behind my house.”

  “What do you mean?” My head cocked to the side in response.

  “They’re murky blue with spots of green and brown floating around in them. From first glance they look typical, a second look tells you they most certainly are not.”

  I’m taken aback at his words and physically lean against the back of the chair. My gaze never wavers from his, which sends a shiver down my spine as I realize his eyes remind me of a tiger finding its prey. He wants to devour me like he did his lunch.

  “Is that your natural hair color?” he asks while reaching across the table and running a piece of my hair through his fingertips.

  “What?” My mind is trying to keep up with the conversation.

  “You have nice hair, but you have weird blue streaks in it. That can’t be natural.” Sebastian leans back against his chair and crosses his arms on his chest.

  “No. I don’t naturally have blue hair.”

  He shrugs and takes the last bite of his burrito. “So, maybe I’ll see you later,” he says as he stands quickly, walks to the trash can and then out the door.

  I stare at the door he disappeared through until the feeling like I’d just survived a hurricane fades. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but he unsettled me in a weird way. I was so mesmerized that I didn’t see Jessica as she falls into the chair he’d recently vacated.

  “Oh my Gawd, I have been in line all this time for my books. Fuck. Sorry I’m late. Was that Sebastian Pryor?”

  “That’s okay.” I finally take a bite of my peanut butter sandwich. “Who?” I ask, my words thick with food.

  “Sebastian Pryor, he is a baseball player that has sex with anything that walks.”

  “How do you know that he has sex with…”

  “His reputation precedes him,” she interrupts looking the way he came.

  “Who told you about his reputation?”

  “Hmmmm.” She glares at me. “It seems that Brantley’s sister was one of the hundred last year.”

  “A hundred last year? That cannot be true.” How can one guy have sex that much?

  She shrugs. Not bothered. I wish I wasn’t bothered. Why am I bothered?

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  Love and Pain

  My knuckles are white as I press my phone against my ear even with the yelling coming from the speaker. The voice is so loud the words don’t make sense; they only reverberate in my brain. I’m not surprised. I don’t know why I’m not screaming.

  The phone disconnects and it falls from my hand clattering to the porch. My gaze lands on the tallest tree in the backyard, the leaves going in and out of focus. This is it. I’m finally losing the tenuous grasp I had on reality and this is going to do it. What I had planned…

  My lips part on their own accord and release the loudest howl I’ve ever heard. It sounds like a wounded animal, but it’s me. All of my sorrows pour out of my heart where they fill the air and dance into the clouds.

  I scream for all the goals I once had that fell to the ground and were covered with leaves because of him.

  I wail for the love that was thrown in my face time after time that was continuously tested and broken.

  I cry for the dreams that I had for us. I screech for what he turned me into.

  I scream and scream and scream.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  If Wishes Were Horses

  When I left Johns Island I called my mother to tell her thank you for helping us and that I would see her soon, I didn’t want her to see my bruised face, to know my plan. She, of course, didn’t understand why I was going back. I’m now in the process of explaining to her the news Sebastian had for me when I got back.

  “Sebastian must have a magician as a public relations person.” The story of his tragic diagnosis and his taking it into his own hands is already on the news, complete with a gorgeous picture of myself, Bash and Sebastian. This is how Bash found out his father was going to die. Not through me or Sebastian, through the Internet. A heartbreaking story of a perfect family with a dad that is going to kill himself before the disease took away bodily functions and the pain was so debilitating he wouldn’t be himself.

  “Well, he’s sleeping with her. That’s about all I know.”

  “He’s a vile human being. I know you shouldn’t wish death on people, but God knew what he was doing when he gave him a cancer that cannot be cured.”

  “Did he know what he was doing when he gave me a STD that can’t be cured?” I do pray, but honestly I’m not sure why. God hasn’t helped me out of this situation, I had to figure my own way out.

  “Oh dear. Every time I think about you I just want to cry. I just…”

  “I’ll be back Mother,” I say as I ignore her comment and head inside from the back porch. My mind has been swinging between reality and the friendly cave I created for mys
elf. In the cave, I was protected from the gates of hell and the devil incarnate I was about to face. I’m strong enough. I’m too weak. I have to do it. I have to. I’ll die trying.

  “Please keep me updated with the specifics and Bash and I will fly up there when it’s necessary. Now with the media it’s going to be extremely difficult for you.”

  “I’ve been pretending for so long, a month won’t be a problem.”

  “Honey,” her voice breaks with emotion.

  “I’ll be fine Mom, just make sure Bash is okay.”

  Silence.

  “Okay?”

  “I just wish…”

  “Me too, Mom. Me too.”

  So many things pass between us in the silence before I disconnect the phone and gaze down at my recently polished toenails. I’m obsessed with the color, it’s a dark teal. I want to decorate my new house with the color. I want to think about anything other than the next thirty days of my life. I want so many things.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  Volition

  I sit cross-legged on the couch with at least five fingers of ice cold Grey Goose in my glass. It’s identical to my first glass I drained. My eyes burn holes into my husband’s face, the light from the foyer shines through where his cheek used to be.

  “I don’t understand,” I say.

  “Of course you don’t, my sweet Rebecca.”

  I cringe at his condescension. I’m leaving. I left.

  “You and Bash left me and I am thoroughly pissed off.” His voice is calm, but his eyes are two bonfires that sear my eyebrows. I lean back from the heat that burns me. “I thought about just taking you in the back yard and throwing you in the compost pile, but that does not work with my plan.”