by Abbi Cook
"Good morning. I made breakfast, so don't let it get cold," he says in a chipper voice, wearing a smile to match his perky mood.
Oh, so this is how it's going to go? He chokes me and scares the hell out of me, and then he makes up for it with a nice dinner out and cooking us breakfast? Perhaps he thinks this is going to be our pattern now. Abuse and then makeup meals.
Until he gets rid of me permanently, of course. But he doesn’t know I know about that.
A tiny spark of rebellion inside me whispers into my brain that I should explain clearly that none of this repairs the damage he created with his behavior not forty-eight hours ago mere feet from where I stand at this very moment. I snuff out that idea immediately, though. I don't feel that brave this morning.
Adam gathers up his breakfast plate and silverware and walks past me toward the sink. All smiles, he says, "I don't have time to clean up, so sorry for the mess. Bacon is in the microwave, so be sure to either eat it or toss it, but don't leave it in there because it will make the whole inside smell."
And with that he turns and leaves as the mere idea of ingesting greasy bacon makes my stomach turn. Or maybe what's making me sick is the thought that I don't feel like I know the person I married anymore. His transformation to a happy person should be a positive thing, but it isn't.
I don't know what he's up to, but it's not good.
I toss everything he made into the garbage and take it outside to the trash can to make sure I can't smell that horrible odor of greasy pork fat all day. Cutting through the garage to go back inside, I see a box in the corner beside the birdseed I bought a few weeks ago. Instantly, I silently ask why Adam thinks he should throw garbage inside our house, and yes, the garage is considered the inside.
"The trash can is literally less than ten feet away," I grumble as I pick up the plain brown cardboard box and walk back outside to throw it out.
I toss it into the garbage and the lid opens wide to reveal a set of instructions. Adam is anything but handy. He doesn't put anything together. If something requires any steps to get it to work, he has someone else install it for him. Curious to know what he might have bought that requires instructions, I lean down and lift the piece of white paper out of the box. My eyes focus on the large black letters at the top while at the same moment my heart skips a beat.
ARBUS 2100 HOME SECURITY CAMERA SYSTEM
He purchased a security system for our house and hasn't mentioned a word to me about it. Why?
I know why. He's spying on me.
But there's no way he installed this himself. One quick glance at the instructions tells me that. He had to hire someone to do it. But when? I'm home most days, and even when I leave to go out, I never tell him how long I'll be gone. When would he have been able to get the installers here and have them finished before I returned home?
Then it dawns on me.
That's what last night's dinner out was all about. He didn't take me to Lawler's to make up for what he did the night before. He needed to get me away from the house and needed to find a way to control how long I'd be gone so the workmen could get the security system installed.
In a flash, I swivel my head around to look for cameras anywhere in the garage. I don't see any, but honestly, I'm not even sure I would know what to look for. How can I? I didn't even know where to get a prepaid phone until a few days ago. Having my husband spy on me in my own house isn't anything I was told to expect from marriage.
Rattled by this discovery, I rush up to the laundry room and throw open the cabinet door where my phone and the diary are. Then I remember something I saw on a TV show once about a woman who had cameras all over her house because she was convinced there were ghosts living there and she wanted to catch them. Those devices were able to see a good distance and even into other rooms. I slam the laundry room door closed and quickly look around the room for any evidence he had cameras installed in here. Again, I don't know what I'm looking for, but I don't see anything suspicious.
The phone and diary are safely tucked away under the old linens, but now I don't feel like they're safe there anymore, so I grab them and tuck them underneath my shirt. I'm not sure where to hide them now, though. If there are eyes on me everywhere in my house, no place is safe.
I head out to the garage again to look at the instructions that came with the security system. He bought five hidden cameras that look like electrical outlets. I try to remember seeing anything strange this morning, but I can't. Then again, it's not like I keep a running inventory of all the electrical outlets in the house.
As I continue reading, I find out he also bought five hidden cameras that look like smoke detectors. Then in big letters I read that they don't actually work to detect a fire. Now he's putting both our lives in danger to spy on me?
My husband is secretly recording my daily motions in my own house.
Quickly, I correct myself. His own house. I can't forget that.
Tossing the instructions back into the garbage, I hurry into the house to check the electrical outlets to see which ones are real and which are fakes. I find one in the living room, one in the dining room, and even one in the downstairs bathroom on the wall next to the sink. Oh, God! I need to remember to cover that one from now on. Who knows who could be seeing these recordings?
I rush upstairs and find one in both bathrooms. In each of the bedrooms, I find the fake smoke detectors were his choice of spying technique. Downstairs, a fake smoke detector has replaced the real one in the kitchen and the hallway. There isn't an inch of my house that I can find privacy in anymore. My stomach roils at the thought that he's watching me every minute of the day.
As the walls begin to feel like they're closing in around me, I have to leave. My appointment with Dr. Trevino isn't for another three hours, but I can't stay in this house. I don't care if I have to kill time. I won't stay here.
After driving around town for nearly thirty minutes, I pull into a shopping center parking lot so I can call Alexei. I need to tell someone what's going on before my mind starts playing games with me and I convince myself Adam's got my car under surveillance too.
“Little bird, did you get my text?” Alexei asks right off.
“No. I didn’t know I got any on this phone. Why did you text me?” I ask, relieved that I turned off the sound yesterday.
“You’re not in the house, right?”
“No, but how do you know that?”
“Because I have someone watch your house and he told me you just left. Stop asking questions you know the answers to,” he answers sharply.
I want to be angry with him, but he’s right. I already knew that, even if I’m not sure I like the fact that he has someone watching me twenty-four seven.
“Natalie, he had someone set up a security system while you were out enjoying dinner with him last night.”
His anger doesn’t dissipate with that statement, and I know why. He wants me to leave Adam and can’t understand why I haven’t yet.
With this whole spying on me inside my own home, I don’t think I understand why I haven’t left yet either.
“I didn’t enjoy anything last night, Alexei. And I know about the whole security system thing. I found the boxes in the garbage this morning. He’s watching me while I’m inside my own house. What does he expect to find? Where I hide the canned peaches so he can’t find them?”
“He expects to find out who you’re sleeping with, little bird. I’d feel much better if you’d come stay with me. I’m not happy with this development.”
“Why? Is something about to happen?” I ask as panic races through me.
“You mean like him hiring another man to kill you? I don’t think so. He’s had to raid his retirement fund twice already, I’m sure, and even though the second guy didn’t cost as much as I did, he doesn’t have a lot to play around with. No, I think he’s hoping to catch you with me so he can kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.”
Suddenly, I’m not sure I can go back to my own h
ome ever again.
“Alexei, I’m scared. I don’t know this person anymore. I can barely believe my husband would hire someone to kill me, and then when he came at me and tried to choke the life out of me himself, I felt like I was looking at a complete stranger staring at me in utter hate.”
“Then come to me, Natalie.”
When I don’t answer, I hear him sigh. I want so much to be brave enough to leave. I just can’t.
“I have to go to my therapist today,” I say, hoping he’ll understand what I’m saying, but he doesn’t.
Instead, he simply says, “Be careful, little bird. I have things I have to do today, but if you need me, I’m just a phone call away.”
I look down at the burner phone and sigh when I see he’s ended the call. I can’t help that all those years of being told what kind of person I’m supposed to be can’t be erased in just a few days. He has no idea how much I wish I was brave like that.
Like Lauren.
My next call to my sister begins as jarringly as the last one ended.
"Natalie, are you okay?" Claire asks without even saying hello first.
Confused since I haven't told her anything about why I'm not okay, I answer, "I'm fine. Well, I'm not fine, but why are you asking that?"
"Mom called me last night for the first time in weeks to tell me she was worried about you. She didn't give me any details, but I was going to call you this morning to see if you're okay. What's going on?"
"I showed her the marks on my neck and told her about what happened with Adam. She wasn't that upset, to be honest, when I was sitting right in front of her. She kept telling me to give him a chance to make it up to me."
"Did he?"
I snort in disgust. "Yeah. He took me out for a nice dinner last night where I had to pretend we were in love while every minute I wanted to run away and never come back. Then this morning he made me breakfast. After he left, I found out he's had hidden cameras installed all around the house to spy on me while he's gone all day. So you tell me, did he make it up to me?"
My sister's sharp intake of breath tells me she's as stunned by what I've found as I am. At least I know I'm not overreacting.
"He's spying on you? What's going on, Natalie? This sounds like something out of some movie."
I look out at the people pushing their grocery carts to their cars and living normal lives like I thought I had until a few months ago and shake my head as an answer to Claire's question eludes me. "I have no idea. I guess he thinks he can't trust me because I told him about the therapist. Maybe he doesn't believe me about that and still thinks I'm cheating on him since that's what he thought in the first place. I don't know. All I know is I feel like I'm living with a stranger, and I'm scared to death, Claire."
"What are you going to do? Are you still going to see the therapist?"
"Oh, yeah. I'm not stopping that just because Adam doesn't like it. I just hope Dr. Trevino understands because I'm pretty sure Adam already called him and demanded he not see me anymore. If he's okay with continuing to treat me, I'm going to keep having sessions with him. As far as what I'm going to do about my husband spying on me in my own home, I have no idea."
My sister is silent for a long time before she says, "I'm scared for you, Natalie. Have you told Mom about the cameras in your house yet?"
I roll my eyes at the idea of telling her anything else. For as much as my sister thinks my mother cares about me, the truth is as it's always been. She adores my husband.
If only she could be like the person in my waking dreams. That version of her would set Adam back on his heels, for sure.
"There's no point in telling her. She has this idea that marriage is supposed to last forever. You know that. I don't think she would care about Adam spying on his own wife, even if it does terrify me."
"You need to tell her. I know you think she likes him more than you, but I don't think so. Tell her and see what she says."
I close my eyes and take a deep breath before I admit the horrible truth to the only member of my family I completely trust. "I'm too embarrassed. She'll probably ask me what I did to make him think I needed to be watched and then where will I be?"
"Trust me. Tell her. If she says that, which I don't think she will, then fine. We'll figure something else out. But I don't think she'll be happy at all to hear Adam's put hidden cameras around your house to spy on you. Go see her and tell her."
"Fine. Maybe I will," I say half-heartedly, not intending to do anything of the sort.
I sit in my car for another fifteen minutes trying to figure out what to do about what's become of my life and coming to no conclusions before I drive off toward my mother's to follow Claire's suggestion. I still don't think it's a good idea, but maybe my sister's onto something.
God, I hope so.
My mother sits at the table in her breakfast nook surrounded by spotless windows. The sun streams in, flooding the corner of her kitchen as my mother sips on her morning coffee. When I called her to say I wanted to come over and talk, she didn't seem to have any idea what could be wrong, oddly enough. I would have thought my previous conversation with her about my husband choking me would give her a clue. I also would have thought Adam would have spoken to her by now about what's been happening.
"Sit down, Natalie. I want to hear what you have to tell me."
My chest tightens at the sternness in her words. Suddenly, I feel like a child again forced to confess something I've done. I do as she orders, taking a seat directly across from her so the sun hits my back.
Lowering my head, I confess what kind of mess my marriage has become. "Adam choked me because he found out I've been going to a therapist. Now he's had cameras installed all around the house to watch me all day when he's at work. He doesn't trust me, but I didn't go to the therapist to talk about him. Well, not really."
I don't look up because I know what's coming next. I know my mother well after all these years.
"You know what I think of those people, Natalie. What would make you go to see one of them?" she asks in the most accusatory voice I've ever heard.
She thinks I'm broken and that's why my husband doesn't trust me anymore. Why he doesn't love me anymore. Why it’s okay to nearly strangle me.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly before lifting my head to face her. "I've been having these things happen to me ever since the attack. First, it was nightmares about things that never happened. Then other things started happening. The therapist calls them waking dreams. I see scenes play out in front of me as vivid as they were occurring right there. They aren't flashbacks because they never happened in real life. He doesn't know why my mind is conjuring these scenes up, but I think if I keep going to him, I'll be able to figure it out with his help."
As I speak, my mother's expression grows darker with each passing description of what I've been experiencing. By the time I finish, her mouth has turned down into a deep frown.
"That sounds crazy. Seeing things that aren't there? Are you having visions?"
"No, and I'm not crazy."
I should have known better than to tell her about what I've been going through. Claire was wrong again. My mother doesn't care.
"Does he have any theories on what's causing your mind to conjure up these scenes?"
"The therapist thinks the trauma from the attack has made my mind create these things, but he doesn't know why."
"What are they about? Everyday things or something else?"
I'm surprised to see my mother actually interested enough to ask questions, so as much as I'm irritated with her calling me crazy, I answer her as truthfully as I can. "Well, they're often about you and Adam, to be honest. He always seems to be reading papers and frowning about whatever's in them, but you seem downright pleased most of the time. In a couple of them, the two of you argue about something, although I don't know what."
My mother's eyes open wide, but she doesn't say anything for a long time. I don't know if I should continue, so I stop tal
king, a little frightened by her reaction. When she finally does start speaking again, it's the typical stuff I knew she'd say to me if I told her what was going on.
"I think you need to speak to Adam about all of this, Natalie. Tell him what you've been going through. I know how he feels about therapy, but maybe he'll understand. I'm not sure you and this therapist of yours are ever going to figure out what's making you have these wild thoughts, but I don't know if it hurts to continue going to see him. I do think, though, that if you were happier you might not be experiencing this. Talk to your husband. Your marriage is strong. Remember that. You and Adam have a strong marriage. I believe that."
Crestfallen, I simply nod since there's no reason to say anything else. She's decided everything he's done, including installing hidden cameras to spy on me, is perfectly understandable for a husband to do to his wife. It doesn't matter that his wife is her daughter.
Once again, she's proven to me what I already knew. She respects my husband more than she does me.
"I better go, Mom. Have a nice day."
She sits lost in thought, so I wait a moment to give her a chance to say goodbye to me. When she doesn't, I leave. This was a mistake coming here.
Now I have to face Dr. Trevino and hope he doesn't turn me away from being his patient because of what Adam said to him. I can only pray that goes better than the rest of my day so far has gone.
Chapter Forty-Three
Alexei
Adam Anchoff’s real estate office isn’t somewhere I’d ever planned to go, but his recent moves make this visit necessary. Whatever the fuck he’s up to, it needs to stop before Natalie gets hurt.
Ordinarily, I’d just fucking kill someone pulling this crap. Since she still won’t relent and come to stay with me, his behavior and her reluctance to do what she should have forced my hand.