by Abbi Cook
Her response is to shake her head in disbelief. "That's absurd. Why would he think that?"
"I have no idea,” I lie. “But please don't say anything to him about this. I don't know how he'll react, and I don't want a repeat of last night."
"He's going to be lucky if that's the only thing I do. No man should ever lay their hands on any of my daughters in anger. You've been nothing but a loving wife. I know he's been frustrated by your inability to give him a child, but that's no reason to go off like a madman and try to strangle you."
Something snaps inside my brain when she mentions my inability to give him a child, and I jump up from the chair, suddenly incapable of merely sitting there and taking the blame for us not having a baby. I won’t feel bad about that anymore.
My hands shake as the words bubble up from inside me. "It is not my fault we don't have a child. I'm a healthy woman in her twenties. I've been poked and prodded, checked within an inch of my life to find out if there's anything wrong with me, and there isn't. Adam can want a child all he wants, but I'm not the reason we don't have one. Why is it no one ever jumps to the conclusion that there's something defective in him instead of always blaming it on me?"
When I finish, my mouth is dry, like I finally said all the words I had to and now my mouth knows it can take a break. I look at the garden around me, and everything seems so new and vivid, like I've never seen this place before. I feel like a new person standing there.
Looking down at my mother, I see pure shock written all over her face. I've never spoken like that in front of her, despite the fact that those words have existed inside me in some form or another about dozens of topics for ages. She doesn't seem to know what to do now after my declaration, so we remain there staring at one another for nearly a minute before she finally speaks again.
"Well, that was quite a performance, Natalie. Are you finished?"
Normally, when she uses that tone that signals she isn't happy with me, I wither under her disapproval, but not this time. I have more to say on so many topics, but for the moment, I don't feel like choosing those battles.
"I simply wanted to explain how it's not my fault Adam and I don't have children. Not that I would ever want one with him after what he did."
My words hit the mark, and I see she understands how things have changed because of last night. Standing up, my mother takes me by the hand and smiles in that way that always resembles how a car salesman smiles. "Now let's not be hasty. Adam is your husband, after all. He loves you. I'm sure he's full of regret today. You'll see. I'm sure when he gets home this afternoon he'll be full of apologies."
"I'm not interested in apologies. The man doesn't trust me, so he's taken away my phone. Then he choked me until I thought I'd die. I can't imagine what he could say to fix that."
She pats the top of my hand and her style changes from car salesman to social worker. "I know. It seems terrible now, but I promise you it will be better tonight. I know Adam. You'll see. Just give him a chance."
I know Adam. No wonder she's always liked him. They're exactly alike. That she thinks she knows my husband better than his wife who's lived with him for seven years says so much about this whole situation.
He doesn't deserve a chance, and I don't want to give him one, but I know telling her that would be futile. She's always been very invested in my marriage being a success—all of my sisters' marriages, actually—so, I'm not surprised she isn't standing in front of me telling me to pack my things and come back home. To my mother, marriage is forever, or at least until one spouse dies. Another vestige of her religious beliefs that more often than not feel like they belong to a former century. Since my husband isn't old at just over forty, there's little chance of him dying anytime soon, though.
"I have to go, Mom. Please don't say anything to Adam, okay? I'm the one who has to live with him, and I don't know what he'll do if he finds out I told you."
"Promise me you'll give him a chance, Natalie. I'd hate to see one of my children lose everything over one mistake."
That one mistake nearly cost me my life, but the way she refers to his choking me, it sounds like he forgot to renew the car registration and a cop pulled me over. The fact that she insists on diminishing what happened tells me Claire was wrong. My mother likes Adam more than her own daughter, even if she had a few moments there where she let herself care more about me and my welfare.
"Goodbye, Mom."
As I walk away, I feel as if everything I told her was for nothing. In the end, she still wants me to give my husband a chance to explain why he choked me until I nearly died. What exactly is an acceptable explanation for that?
Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it. With every day that passes, it gets harder and harder to tell Alexei no to his offer. I’ve tried to be a good wife. I really have. But every woman has a breaking point.
On my way through the house, I look over toward my father's study and can't help but wish he was still alive. He'd listen to me and care that my husband hurt me. I know he would.
Drawn to where he spent time, I open the door and inhale the earthy scent of fresh cut wood in the darkness. I know my mother rarely opens this room anymore, but I swear it smells the same as it did when I was a child and I'd go in to sit in the large leather chair with gold rivets positioned in front of his desk. I'd pretend that he was sitting in front of me at that desk, a man so commanding and powerful who could make or break anyone who dared to face him. To me, though, he would be my protector. I'd imagine he'd smile and tell me how much he loved me and how good a girl I was.
I close my eyes and inhale another deep breath of that scent I associate with my father, but suddenly, my memories of being a child in there are pushed away, replaced by something else entirely. Opening my eyes, I see before me a scene I don't recognize, another hallucination exploding into view.
The room is dimly lit with only a single brass lamp on the far end of the desk that does little more than throw shadows. My mother sits behind the desk in my father's chair. She looks smug and satisfied, but about what? My gaze moves from her to someone sitting in that leather chair I so loved as a child. I see the gold rivets down the side of the arm, and when I look up to see who the person is, I recognize him instantly.
Adam.
Once again, he holds papers in his hands. Unlike my mother, his expression isn't smug at all. I only see the right side of his face, but I notice his eye is squinted. Not in the way one squints to see better but in the way someone narrows their eyes to show anger. I've seen his eyes like that. He looked at me in the same way every second he had his hand around my throat.
She says something to him he doesn't like, and he shakes his head. The squint doesn't go away the whole time she talks. What is she saying?
Will I be able to hear her if I walk into the study? I need to know what they're talking about. Why is Adam angry with her?
I take a single step into the room and instantly see another person sitting in the darkness in a chair against the far wall. The person's head is bowed, their long hair covering their face. They say nothing as the two people sitting just feet away discuss something.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Adam stand and throw the papers down onto the desk. He points at them and taps his fingertip against the top page, and now my mother shakes her head as she folds her arms across her chest. They're arguing, but about what?
I glance over at the person sitting perfectly still in the chair and see no reaction to all that's going on around them. Turning toward the desk, I look at the papers and can make out a single word.
Natalie.
The papers concern me. Why? What about me?
Then I realize who the person sitting in the chair is. They lift their head as I look over and I see myself staring back at me. My eyes are red-rimmed, like I've been crying. I want to scream, "Say something! What are they talking about? You must know!"
But I say nothing and watch the me sitting in that room lower her head again as sadness wa
shes over me. What is wrong with me that I don't get to sit at the desk with Adam and my mother? If my name is on those papers, why am I not involved in their conversation?
He points over at me sitting there and then I watch my mother point at the papers on the desk in front of her. She wears that smug look and slowly shakes her head no. But what does he want that she refuses to let him have?
"Natalie, what are you doing in here?"
In a flash, the scene disappears, replaced by the darkness of my father's study once more. I spin around to see my mother as my heart slams into my chest and stammer out, "I…I just…just wanted to look in."
"I heard a scream and came running in to find you standing here staring into a dark room."
Did I scream? I think about it for a moment and can't remembering screaming. Quickly, I come up with a believable lie. "Sorry. I thought I felt a spider on my arm."
"You look like you've seen a ghost. Are you okay?"
I don't know what I am. I don't know what to tell her, so I need to think of another lie so she doesn't think I'm losing my mind.
"I just remembered a time with Daddy in here. You scared me because I was lost in thought."
As the words come out of my mouth, I know I haven't succeeded in fooling her. My father died when I was just a baby. There's no way I can remember anything about him in that room or otherwise.
Her face twists into a look of confusion before she shakes her head. "What do you mean remembered your father?"
"I don't know. I was just thinking about him as I walked toward the front door, so I came to this room. I know I can't remember him in there, but he was on my mind. I have to go now, Mom. I'll talk to you later."
She reaches out to hold me there, but I turn so quickly that I slip out of her grasp. Hurrying away, I practically run out to my car. My heart is beating so fast I'm afraid I might be sick, and I have no idea what just happened.
What was going on in that room between my mother and Adam, and why didn't they include me in whatever they were talking about since my name was on that paper? Why did I look like I'd been crying as I sat in that chair not saying a word to them? What made my husband so angry?
I'm terrified by what I've just seen. Even more frightening, it feels real, like it happened at some point. The other waking dreams felt strange and foreign, and I couldn't imagine they were memories of anything from the past.
This felt different. This felt like I was watching a replay of something I'd seen before.
But that's impossible. I haven't been in my father's study since I was a young girl. Even more, I've never been in that room with Adam and my mother at any time in my life.
At least none that I can remember.
Chapter Forty
Natalie
I have to talk to Dr. Trevino. I don't care what Adam said to him about me. I have to speak to him and tell him about this latest hallucination before too much time passes and I forget the details. I want to know why this would feel so much like a memory and not like the others I've had.
My hands shake as I call the therapist, the phone jumping out of my hand and forcing me to take my eyes off the road for just a moment to grab it. When I look up, I see a truck stopped only a few feet ahead of me, so I jam my foot on the brake, barely avoiding a collision. Shaken, I pull over onto the side of the road once I get around the truck and shut the car off.
The doctor's office answers, and trying my best to stay calm and not sound as frantic as I feel, I take a deep breath and say, "I need to make an appointment with Dr. Trevino, please."
"Are you a patient of the doctor's?" the receptionist asks, as she always does when I don't tell her my name right off.
"Yes. My name is Nat—" I catch my mistake and correct it immediately. "My name is Lauren Tarrigan. I need an appointment as soon as you can. Today, if possible."
The woman hums into the phone before answering, "He doesn't have anything today, but he has a one o'clock tomorrow afternoon. Does that work?"
I feel my stomach sink. Tomorrow afternoon? Oh, God. I hope I don't forget everything by then.
"I really need to see him today. Does he have anything at all?" I ask, my tone practically pleading with the woman.
"No, he doesn't. Tomorrow's the earliest I can get you in. Should I put you down for the one o'clock tomorrow?" she says dismissively.
"Okay, tomorrow at one. Thank you."
After I end the call and toss my phone into my purse, I take another deep breath to calm myself. Still unsure what I saw back at my mother's house, I try to get my thoughts together, but my mind feels jumbled and disconnected. Thoughts pop in and out of my brain, each one important for me to remember. My mother and Adam again in a room arguing about papers, but this time I saw my name on one of them. Me sitting in a chair away from them looking like I've been crying but saying nothing as they wrangle about something just feet away. My mother clearly winning whatever argument they were having.
None of it makes any more sense than any of the other hallucinations I've been having. That it took place in my father's study puzzles me. My mother hasn't had that room open to anyone in years. When we were children, she let us go in there, but once we became teenagers, it was off limits. I can't imagine any time when Adam and my mother would have been in there together discussing business, and I don't remember ever sitting in that room with the two of them as they argued about anything.
I just hope that tomorrow Dr. Trevino can help me figure out what's going on. In the meantime, I have to go home. The problem is I don't want to. Until last night, I loved my house. It isn't designed exactly the way I'd want, but it's my home. Now it's simply the place where Adam tried to choke me to death.
As I sit there on the side of the road, I go through the list of people I can visit so I can avoid returning home. Claire? I don't want to worry her even more, and that's exactly what I'll do if I show up at her house again this week. Tess? The last time I spoke to her was right after Lauren disappeared. We're practically strangers these days, so calling her would be too weird and I can't trust she won't tell Adam what I say. Pilar? We aren't that kind of friends, unfortunately.
The truth is I don't have any real friends. At least not the kind I can call at the last minute and drop in for a visit. My life is filled with family and acquaintances. That's how it's always been since I was a small child. While other little girls had sleepovers and parties, I had my sisters and mother. I've never known any other way.
There’s only person I know will be happy to see me show up at his house. Alexei.
Fishing my phone out of my purse, I dial his number. How quickly I’ve become accustomed to turning to him.
He answers the phone like he’s been waiting for me to call. “Little bird, what’s wrong?”
“How do you know something’s wrong?” I ask, hating that I sound like the woman with the problems to him already.
“Let’s say I have my ways. Now what made you call me?”
I stare out the front window at a bug on the hood of my car. “Maybe I missed you.”
“Good. I miss you. I wish you’d come to the house. We can have dinner and then do whatever you want all night.”
My focus goes hazy as I think about what I’d want to do if I had all night with him. That’s how I know this can’t be love. I wouldn’t think of sex all the time if I truly loved him.
Ignoring his offer to come to him, I begin to tell him about what happened at my mother’s house when I was in my father’s office but then stop. I don’t want Alexei thinking I’m crazy.
“Promise me you’re not letting him give you anything to drink, Natalie. I’m serious,” he says in a far more somber voice than just a few seconds ago.
“I promise. I don’t think that has anything to do with what’s happening to me anyway. I think this is from my head injury from my accident.”
“Which wasn’t an accident.”
I let out a heavy sigh. God, I don’t want to think about that.
“
Don’t remind me.”
“Just promise me you’re being careful, Natalie. It’s one thing for me to have eyes on you at all times, but I can’t see into your house. If only you’d come to stay with me…”
Alexei doesn’t finish his thought, probably because he knows I’m not ready yet. I’m no fool. I know what my husband is and what he can do to me. I just can’t be that woman who leaves her husband for another man.
Not yet, anyway.
“I have to go.”
“Just remember that the offer stands. Day or night. It doesn’t matter what time, little bird.”
“Okay.”
The phone falls silent as I wait for him to say something, but when he doesn’t after a few seconds, I fill in the dead space. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Stay safe, Natalie. If you need me, you know what to do.”
“Okay.”
And then he’s gone without saying what I’d been waiting to hear. Why didn’t he say he loves me? Is it because I won’t leave my house and my husband, even though neither is mine anymore?
I start the car again and grip the steering wheel as regret fills me. If only I had been like Lauren when I was younger. I have no idea how she did it, but she found a different kind of life—one that included strangers she made into friends. And when she decided she wanted to finally be free, she ran away.
With each mile I drive toward the house, I think about how jealous I am of Lauren. While my mother remains angry and Claire continues to miss my youngest sister, all I can think is how much I wish I had been brave enough to do what she did when I was that age.
By the time I get home, I'm exhausted from thinking. Thinking about what's happening to me. Thinking about what caused my sister to leave us all. Thinking about what kind of life I have if the man I promised to love for the rest of my life is capable of trying to strangle me and hire men to kill me. Thinking about Alexei and how if I could just do what Lauren did I could start a new life with him.
The sound of a car door slamming wakes me from a sound sleep, and I sit bolt upright in bed, my heart racing. What time is it? I turn to look at the clock on the nightstand and see it's right after five o'clock. Was that Adam getting home?