by Tabatha Kiss
I blink with shock. “You already called them?”
John wraps his arms around my body. His hands smooth down my back and stop to cup my buttocks. “Just say yes,” he says with a kiss.
I can’t recall the last time John planned a romantic getaway for us without my knowledge. It must have been sometime before our marriage began. My heart throbs for him, just as it did before all those years ago. I feel like a young girl again, swept away by her doting man.
“Yes,” I whisper. “We can go.”
He smiles wide and kisses me again. “Go get packed,” he tells me.
I plant a kiss on his nose and step away to rush up the stairs. My heart thumps wildly in my chest, the excitement of a romantic vacation catching up with me. As I stand in my closet, searching for the perfect spring dress and swim wear, a voice calls to me from the depths of my mind. It shouts his name. My stepbrother’s name.
I sit on our bed and pick up my phone. There’s one text message, sent twenty minutes ago, from Hamilton.
Are you okay?
I set the phone down without replying and continue packing.
Chapter 8
The moonlight shines in through the windows of the cabin, illuminating our bed. John lies on his belly with his arms sprawled out, one of which pins me across the chest. I’ve just awoken from a deep slumber brought on from sheer exhaustion. John spent the last several hours tending to my sexual needs, a fete he insisted on performing. And I wasn’t about to turn him down.
I slide out from under his arm and gently set it back down onto the bed without disturbing him. He rolls slightly, as if ready to open his eyes, but settles back into his sleep. I stand up and stretch my sore legs. With my phone in my hands, I slip into my robe and step outside into the night.
The sounds of nature fill my ears. The cabin sits in seclusion right next to the lake, away from the city lights and pollution, but not quite outside of cell phone reception range. I walk towards the lake with bare feet and settle down on the dock next to the water.
I check the time. A quarter past three in the morning. It’s not the ideal time for this phone call, but it’s better than nothing. I dial Hamilton’s number and wait patiently as it rings multiple times.
“Jennifer?”
I smile at the sound of his voice. “Hi, Hamilton,” I say. I watch the wind blow across the water. The perfect ripple of shimmering moonlight.
“Are you okay?” he asks quickly. “It’s been two days—”
“I know,” I say. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you earlier.”
“Are you okay?” he asks again.
“I’m fine, Hamilton,” I say. “I’m really fine, actually.”
“Where are you?” he asks. “I can come get you—”
“I didn’t call for that,” I say.
There’s a long silence on the line. “You’re staying with him,” he states.
“Yes,” I answer. “If I can salvage my marriage, then I have to try.”
“You promised me you’d come back,” Hamilton says.
I fill my lungs with the clean forest air. “I know I did,” I say. “But I promised him first.”
“You’ve already broken that promise to him, Jennifer. You chose me that night,” he argues.
“And that’s something I’m prepared to live with.”
“You’re being stupid,” he says. “He’s not going to change for you.”
“You don’t know him,” I argue. “Things are different now—”
“He turns five years of abuse around in just two days?”
The question brings me pause, but I keep my level head. “This is something I have to do, Hamilton. I’m sorry. Hopefully some day you’ll understand.”
“I understand perfectly already,” he spits.
“Don’t be like that, Hamilton—” But he’s already hung up.
I set the phone down on the dock and stare out across the lake, my mind once again tugging in opposite directions.
***
“What are you reading?”
I look up from my book to see John enter the bedroom. I adjust myself against the pillow propped up behind me on the bed.
“A play,” I say. “Auditions for it are next week.”
He nods his head silently as he pulls his fleece pants out of his dresser drawer. “Are you thinking of auditioning?”
I close the book and shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know. Maybe,” I say.
He says nothing more and sits down on his side of the bed.
“Would that be a problem?” I ask.
“No,” he says. He slides his watch off his wrist and sets it down on his night table. “If that’s what you want to do, then I support you.”
I smile at the words and even more at the feeling behind them. “Thank you,” I say. The past week has been quite amazing. John has gone the extra mile to regain my love. He checks in on me multiple times a day and really listens to what I say. He brought me home flowers after work. Twice. They are small efforts, but I can see the sincerity behind them. My bringing the playbook into the bedroom was a test.
He passed.
I set the playbook down on the night table and lean over to him. His skin feels warm to the touch as I pull my arm around his torso to whisper into his ear. “Are you feeling tired?”
John turns towards me and kisses my forehead. “A little,” he answers.
I place my hand on his thigh. “Too tired?” I ask.
His lips curl into a sweet smile. “Maybe…” he teases. I feel him inhale sharply as my finger caress his groin.
I chuckle. “Okay,” I say, releasing him and leaning back against the headboard. “I won’t try anything.”
He turns around to look at me and reaches a hand to caress my belly. His touch tickles me, but my smile fades once I realize why he reached for me.
“Nothing yet,” I say quickly.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I know how badly you want this.”
I ignore the falsehood and sit up on my knees. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re still young. There’s plenty of time to have a child.”
“We’ve been trying for so long…” he mutters.
“And we’ll keep trying,” I say with a shrug. “Nothing to worry about, John.” I kiss him on the cheek. “Okay?”
He smiles slightly. “Okay.”
“Let’s get some sleep,” I say.
John rolls over and pulls the covers over his torso. He falls to sleep in no time at all. But I sit awake and stare at the ceiling, the freezing feeling of guilt plaguing my mind.
***
“What’s that?” John asks.
I step into the house with a stack of letters from the mailbox. One envelope stands out over the others. It’s shiny and white, much larger in size than a standard envelope.
“Not sure,” I say, glancing at John. He sits on the couch with his tablet in his hand. His face appears unnaturally inquisitive. I inspect the label. “It’s from Hamilton…”
“Who?” John asks.
“Hamilton,” I repeat his name, hoping for a jog in John’s memory. “My stepbrother…”
His face lights up. “Oh, that’s right.” He looks back down at his tablet. “What’s he want?” he asks.
I tear the envelope open and pull out a thick sheet of paper. “It’s an invitation to his next show. Come see fresh, new portraits from the great Hamilton Ward — one night only.”
“Will you be going?” John asks.
I shrug my shoulders. “I’m not sure, maybe,” I say to appear nonchalant. In all honesty, I want to go so badly, it hurts. I always knew I would have to face Hamilton again eventually. It might as well be in a public place with plenty of witnesses around to keep me from doing anything stupid.
“When is it?”
“Next weekend,” I say, checking the date. “Do you want to come?”
He shakes his head quickly. “No, thanks. Not my type of fun.”
I smile and nod my head. “I think I’ll g
o,” I say. “It’ll be nice to see my stepbrother again, I think.”
“Sounds good to me,” John says without glancing up.
I take a deep breath, hoping that John can’t hear the sound of my heart pounding wildly in my chest.
Chapter 9
I arrive at the gallery shortly before 8 P.M. to find it completely packed with people. In all honesty, I had not expected such a large crowd to show up. But Hamilton’s work was known in many circles, more than I was previously aware of.
My invitation is checked at the door by a large man in a black suit. He checks my name off his list and then shoots me a cunning smile. “You’re looking lovely as ever tonight, Ms. Rhys,” he says as he opens the door. It’s spoken with such familiarity that it sets me back.
“Oh, thank you,” I say.
“Mr. Ward is expecting you inside,” he says.
I nod and walk inside the golden double doors of the gallery. A sea of people greets me, each one dressed to the nines in fancy cocktail gowns and black suits. I feel under dressed in my plain black dress, but try not to let it bother me. The portraits on the walls catch my eye. A few of the faces are familiar to me. The same women from Hamilton’s studio walls. They greet me now with seductive poses, most wearing no clothing or incredibly see-through garbs that leave little to the imagination.
As I navigate through the crowd, searching each face for Hamilton’s. He’s nowhere to be found, but as I make eye contact with those around me, I feel an uneasy feeling. Their gaze stays with me for a little longer than necessary. I catch their eyes lingering on me when I turn my shoulder. I search harder for Hamilton.
I hear a familiar laugh shrill in my ears. I turn to find Nadia standing in front of her own portrait surrounded by an entourage of admirers.
“I just moved to America!” she tells them. “So, you can expect many more shots of these tits!”
They all laugh loudly. Her gaze wanders over their shoulders and makes contact with me.
“You!” She steps around them and takes wide strides in my direction. “You’re the sister!”
“Yes,” I say. “It’s nice to see you again, Nadia. Do you know where Hamilton is?”
“He’s on the second floor,” she answers. “The pictures upstairs — very popular. So gritty and real!” She winks at me and nudges towards the stairs.
“Thank you.” I heave a sigh of relief and turn back into the mass of people to find the stairwell on the far side.
The second floor appears far less crowded than the first. My eyes lock on Hamilton instantly, his presence highlighted by his deep red shirt behind his black jacket. He’s speaking to a woman, but immediately focuses on me as I reach the top of the stairs. Silence fills my ears. I tremble slightly and keep my hand on the railing.
I knew it would be difficult seeing Hamilton again, but I was not expecting such a gut-wrenching reaction. Part of me wishes for him to take me into his arms and welcome me back, but I closed that door weeks ago.
My eyes glance around the room. I see his new portraits on display, the fresh new material the great Hamilton Ward promised on the invitation. My heart stops. I stare at them, my own eyes staring back at me. My smiling face in a white negligee. And…
Oh, no…
Memories of our night of passion. Me, lying naked on his bed. My legs spread eagle. My hands cupping my breasts. My face full of desire. Memories I left behind for Hamilton, and only Hamilton, now sit on display for the world to see.
“Jennifer…”
I feel his hand grab my elbow.
“Hamilton, what did you do?” I can’t peel my eyes off of them. My face in the darkness, struck with blind passion. I can almost taste the seduction of that night on my tongue.
“Come with me, Jennifer,” he whispers into my ear. He tries to pull me away, but I fight and stand my ground.
“What did you do, Hamilton?” I ask him again. My instinct cries at me to tear the photos off the wall, but as I look around the room, I know it’s too late. Too many have come and gone and laid witness to my night of adultery.
“We can talk elsewhere,” Hamilton says.
He tries to pull me away again, but I tug my arm from his grasp. “No!” I say, drawing glances from others around us. “Take them down, Hamilton.”
“No,” he says. “This needed to happen.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Red hot fury stings my eyes and face. “You didn’t have my permission to display these. Take them down. Now.”
“Why?” he asks. “What will John do when he finds out?”
“This has nothing to do with him. I don’t want my photos on display for everyone to see, Hamilton.”
“Admit that you’re still scared of him,” he urges. “Admit that you don’t want these displayed because you’re afraid of what he’ll do.”
“Stop it,” I say.
“Fine. Prove it. Prove that he’s a changed man and that he’ll love and support you no matter what you do. Show him the photos, Jennifer.”
“No.” I feel nauseous, on the brink of collapse. I can’t fight the tears as they stream down my cheeks. “I can’t believe you did this to me, Hamilton.”
“Do you feel I betrayed you?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say.
“Did you betray him by asking me to take these photos?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“And was that a direct result of the emotional torture he’s put you through for the last five years?”
“You’ve made your point, Hamilton,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Not yet,” he says. He reaches for my hands. I pull them from his fingers, but he grabs them out of the air and holds them firm. “Answer me this one question and if you want, I’ll leave you alone forever.”
“What?” I ask.
He looks deeply into my eyes. “Are you still taking the pills?”
I bite my lips to keep from answering. Instead, I think about the alarm that goes off everyday at noon, a daily reminder to protect my future.
Hamilton releases my hands and takes a step closer. “Leave him, Jennifer. It’s what you really want.” He cups my face in his hands. “I’m what you really want.”
I place my hands on his chest and push him away. “I want to go home,” I say.
“Come back to me,” he whispers. “I can protect you.”
“You have a very interesting way of protecting me, Hamilton.” I glance at the portraits on the walls.
He follows me gaze and pivots his position to get a better view of them. “They’re calling them the most beautiful photos I’ve ever shot,” he says. “The world loves you, Jennifer, and you deserve their love — you don’t deserve to be under his thumb, never allowed to see the light of day.”
“That’s not your decision,” I say.
“That’s right.” He turns back to me. “It’s yours. Not mine. Not his. It’s yours.”
“I’m going home,” I say. I turn away from him and step down the stairs. I can feel him following me down.
“Jennifer…” His fingers gently grasp my arm again. “I am sorry it had to be like this, but please… Don’t let it all be for nothing.”
He lets me go and I drift away into the crowd.
Chapter 10
When I arrive home, the house is pitch black. I park the car in the driveway and slowly open the front door.
“John?” I say into the dark of the living room.
There’s no response.
A chill runs down my spine. When I left the house an hour ago, John was home, watching television. “Have fun,” he said. “I’d go with you, but it’s been a long day and it’s a family thing, so…”
“John?” I go into the empty kitchen and glance at the clock above the stove. It’s only a few minutes after nine. Perhaps he went to bed early.
I grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator and go up the stairs towards the bedroom. The light of a lamp shines into the hallway from a crack in the door. I enter the
bedroom to find John sitting on the end of the bed.
“There you are,” I say. I set the bottle down on the table next to the bed. “Are you turning in early?”
“Sit down, Jennifer.”
His tone is so firm and demanding, it brings me great pause.
“Is everything okay, John?” I ask.
He stands up from the bed with his phone in hand. “I said, sit down.”
I obey him with shaking knees and slide down onto the edge of the bed where he was sitting only moments before. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“You remember Howard, from work,” he begins. He walks over to the door and closes it. My ears ring from the deafening click of it. “His wife is one of those artsy girls, kind of like you.” His face twitches at the phrase. “They went to the same show as you did tonight…”
“John…” I want to run for the door, but he paces back and forth between me and my escape.
“Shut your mouth,” he says. He looks at the phone in his hand and he scrolls through photos. “Hey John, Howard texted me. Isn’t this your wife?”
He turns the phone towards me and shows me what he’s no doubt been staring at for the last hour. Photos of my nude portraits. Erotic poses locked in time.
“John…” I whisper. “I can explain all of this.”
“I should have known you couldn’t be trusted…” John says, ignoring my words.
“What?”
“You asked me for your freedom and I thought, Okay. She’s been good for the last five years. Maybe a little wiggle won’t hurt. But you see what happened?”
Tears fill my eyes. “You haven’t changed at all…” I mutter to myself.
“A month. It took you a month to humiliate me!” John throws the phone at me. I scream as it flies over my head and shatters against the headboard behind me.
“And with your own brother.” He spits the words out as if they were acid. “Tell me, wife, did he fuck you after you stripped for him?” He lunges at me.