Her Sister's Shoes

by Ashley Farley

  Jamie couldn’t argue with that.

  “You have it in you to walk again. Moses thinks—”

  He slammed both palms on the counter. “I don’t give a damn what Moses thinks. When are you gonna get it through your head? I’ve been sentenced to this chair for life.”

  “Oh really? And who sentenced you?” When he didn’t answer, she said, “You sentence yourself, Jamie. You and I both know it. But it doesn’t have to be that way.”

  “God, Mom.” He raked his fingers through his greasy hair. “Will you just stop already with the you-can-walk-again bullshit? I’ve been trying for months. My legs don’t work.”

  Sam sat back on her stool. She wasn’t getting anywhere by coddling him. Time for a little tough love and reverse psychology. “Okay then, if you are so convinced you’re never going to walk again, it’s time you learn to live with your disability.”

  “I thought that’s what I was doing.”

  She spread her arms wide. “You call this living? You refuse to see your friends. You sit in front of that television all day. And you’ve completely let your hygiene go.”

  “And just how do you expect me to go places? Despite what you think, pushing my wheelchair around town isn’t an option.”

  “There are cars equipped for disabled drivers,” Sam said. “I can’t afford it right now, but if you put in some hours at the market, we could save for it together. For now, I’m happy to take you anywhere you need to go.”

  He glared at her, his eyes black with anger. “You’re always at the market.”

  “Your friends would come see you if you’d let them.”

  “I don’t need their pity. What do I have in common with them anymore anyway?”

  “College, for starters. You can go shopping for your dorm rooms together.”

  “I haven’t decided if I’m even going to college.”

  “You have to get an education, Jamie.”

  “Carolina was my dream, Mom. How can I go there and not play baseball? How can I go there without Corey?”

  “Maybe you can defer your admission for a semester, until you are feeling more like yourself. In the meantime, for your own good, I’m going to limit your screen time. And you need to start doing your chores again.”

  “Great.” Jamie rolled his eyes. “I’m sure the neighbors will get a kick out of watching the cripple push the lawnmower.”

  “And I’m going to insist you keep your appointment with Dr. Baker tomorrow. You need someone to help you work through your problems.”

  “Forget it, Mom. I told you, I don’t need a shrink. I’m dealing with my situation on my own.”

  Sixteen

  Jacqueline

  Jackie ran the Russian Red lipstick across her lips, blotted them with a tissue, then snapped her compact shut and slid it into her evening bag. She hoped to make a bold statement with the obscene amount of bare skin she was showing in her low-cut black-and-white cocktail dress.

  But first she had to summon the nerve to enter the party.

  She removed the invitation from her visor and studied it for the umpteenth time that day. The old Jackie would have listened to her gut instincts, put her new SUV in reverse, and driven home as quickly as possible. But the new Jackie, the woman emerging from the shell of her former self, the woman whose primary motivation was self-preservation, was determined to save as much face as possible amongst Prospect’s elite.

  Bill never missed the Heart Benefit, the one social event he didn’t mind paying three hundred dollars a head to attend. As the primo cardiologist in the area, the benefit gave him an opportunity to play center stage, to talk to the attendees about advances in the field of medicine, and answer questions regarding heart safety—a hot topic amongst middle-aged, health-conscious patrons.

  Jackie had sent their money in a month ago and promptly received confirmation of their reservation. She’d have to sit next to him during dinner, but she could make nice for two hours if it meant accomplishing her goals. Presenting a united front would go a long way toward dispelling any rumors circulating about their current marital problems. Donna Bennett and Donna Berry be damned.

  She entered the side entrance of the country club and eased into the crowd before anyone realized she had arrived alone. She accepted a glass of wine from a passing waiter and wandered to the edge of the terrace overlooking the golf course. A gentle breeze ruffled her hair. The organizers could rest easy. Mother Nature had granted them a perfect evening for a seated dinner under the stars.

  Eileen Hanson, one of the event organizers and mother of Cooper’s closest friend, joined her.

  “I haven’t heard a word from that scoundrel son of mine.” Her son, Jason, was away at camp in Vermont. “I have no doubt that Cooper is better about writing to his parents.”

  “Actually, I haven’t heard a word from either of my boys since they left. I imagine they’ll get around to writing eventually, when—” Jackie stopped in midsentence when she spotted her husband strolling toward the terrace with a woman on his arm.

  Eileen gave her a pat. “Don’t worry. I made certain you are seated at a different table on opposite sides of the terrace from them.”

  “Thanks,” Jackie mumbled.

  Eileen filled the awkward silence with chitchat about planning the party, but Jackie didn’t hear a word. She was fixated on the woman who had taken her place in her husband’s life.

  The other woman, this Daisy person, was everything Jackie was not—curvy, flashy, and loud. The woman’s hot-pink dress stuck to her body like Cling Wrap, the cheap fabric accentuating her hourglass figure, her enhanced bust, and her shapely hips. With three-inch heels and straps winding up her leg, her silver platforms were the wrong choice for the dress. She’d teased her yellow hair into an updo with thick ringlets plastered to the sides of her face. She wore fake eyelashes, pink lipstick to match her dress, and a thick coat of foundation that gave her a waxed mannequin look.

  From across the terrace, Jackie heard the woman laying it on thick in a lusty voice to Bill’s golf partner. “Shame on you for keeping my Billy away from me on Saturday. Maybe you’ll let me tag along sometime.”

  Jackie spirits lifted when Steve’s lip turned up as though he’d just eaten a raw lemon. A real man’s man, Steve’s idea of fun did not include taking a woman along on a golf outing.

  Eileen leaned close to Jackie. “He has some nerve bringing her here, if you ask me.”

  A sarcastic remark perched on the tip of Jackie’s tongue and begged for release, but instead she responded, “I’m glad he found someone who makes him happy. Although, I must say I’m surprised he moved on so quickly, considering how distraught he was when I told him I wanted a divorce.”

  “I must say, your separation came as a surprise to all of us. Nobody realized you were having problems.”

  A white-gloved waiter appeared with dinner bell in hand, saving Jackie from having to explain. “If you could point me to my table …”

  “Certainly. You are over by the fountain with the Jacobs and the Hunts.” Eileen pointed across the terrace. “See where Keith and Lisa are standing?”

  Jackie nodded and maneuvered through the crowd as quickly as possible, praying she wouldn’t run into Bill.

  She’d never met two of the couples at their table, but she considered the Jacobs and the Hunts her close friends. The event chairs had arranged the place cards in an alternating male/female configuration, which helped disguise the fact that she was the only one at the table without a spouse. She was seated between Keith Jacobs and Andrew Hunt. As she approached, both men jumped up to help her with her chair.

  Once she was seated, Keith turned to Jackie. “Just so you know, we all think Bill is crazy for leaving you, especially for that tacky broad he’s with.”

  Jackie wondered if Keith was speaking on behalf of the group in declaring his allegiance to her. The conversation around the table didn’t stop, but Jackie knew all ears perked up in anticipation of her response.

 
; “Who says Bill left me?” Jackie asked, a wicked smile playing along her lips.

  Keith nearly choked on his cocktail. “You mean, you were the one having an affair?”

  “A woman doesn’t need to have a man waiting in the wings when she knows things are not right in her marriage.”

  “Thatta girl” He held his drink out to toast her.

  She launched into a discussion with the men on either side of her about the independent, modern woman. They agreed that women of the new millennium were equally as accomplished as men. And they confessed that they were turned on by a woman in power. Whether they meant what they said or whether they were just trying to flatter her, Jackie loved being the center of their undivided attention. She responded by flirting shamelessly. On the happenstance that Bill was watching, she flashed her most dazzling smile, batted her eyelashes at regular intervals, and tossed her hair over her shoulder like a teenage tease when she laughed at their jokes.

  They had finished their tomato and basil salads and the wait staff was serving a seared Mahi Mahi with mango salsa when Jackie said, “So you say these encouraging things about modern women being sexy, yet both of your wives are traditional stay-at-home soccer moms.” Jackie spoke in a low voice, words meant only for her dinner partners.

  Keith and Andrew cast quick glances across the table at their wives. Their looks were met with steely glares. Lisa and Isabelle had been eavesdropping all along.

  Lisa set her fork down on her dinner plate. “So, Jackie, I have a hard time believing your husband moved out of your house, started dating this woman, and moved in with her, all within two weeks’ time.”

  Isabelle added, “The rumor around town is that he’d been planning to leave you for months but was waiting until after your birthday party.”

  “Retract the fangs, girls,” Keith said. “We’re all friends here.”

  Tears pressed at the back of Jackie’s eyes. She wasn’t sure what hurt more—that Isabelle and Lisa could be so cruel or that her husband had jumped from their marital bed of twenty years and straight into the bed of a bimbo.

  For the rest of the main course, Jackie picked at her fish, not trusting herself to speak. She forced herself to think about all the things she would buy with the money she extracted from her lying, cheating, no-good husband—the black mink swing coat she’d been thinking about since last winter, the facelift she’d been contemplating for several years.

  When the waiter brought thick, creamy slices of key lime pie, Jackie excused herself for the ladies’ room. But once inside the clubhouse, she flew past the restrooms and out the side door to the empty parking lot. She broke the speed limit in a rush to get home and assess the damage of her failed plan while drowning her sorrows in a bottle of chilled Pinot Grigio.

  How dare Bill show up at such a public event with another woman so soon after leaving her? He could’ve at least given her a heads-up that he was taking Daisy to the benefit. Instead of repairing the damage to her reputation, she’d made things worse by getting caught in a lie about the particulars of her separation. She’d made herself out to be an independent woman of power, but she’d come across as a pathetic, desperate used-up ex-wife. And all the while her husband had been sitting across the terrace from her smiling and laughing with his tramp.

  She’d have the last laugh when she sued the bastard for everything he was worth.

  Seventeen

  Faith

  The second Saturday of business at the market was more profitable than the first. All day long, vacationers came and went in a steady stream. A few were just checking things out but most loaded up on seafood for their week at the beach. Word had spread throughout the Carolinas—Captain Sweeney’s was back and better than ever.

  Hungry and tired after the long day, Faith and Bitsy arrived home a little before seven to find all makes and models of motorcycles parked haphazardly in the driveway in front of their trailer. Faith was in no mood for company.

  “I don’t like it when Daddy’s friends are here,” Bitsy said.

  Faith helped her daughter out of her car seat, then went around to the passenger side for the pizza they’d picked up from Sardis and the Disney movie she’d rented from Redbox. “Don’t worry, honey. They won’t be staying.” All she wanted to do was stuff herself with sausage pizza, take a hot bath, and crawl into bed.

  Curtis and company were assembled around the rickety flea market table in their makeshift dining room, a thick cloud of cigarette smoke looming over them. An awkward silence fell over the group when they caught sight of her, an uninvited female in their man cave.

  Buck, one of Curtis’s nicer friends, stood up to greet her when she entered. “I’m sorry, Faith. Curtis didn’t think you’d be home until late.”

  Faith glared at her husband. “I don’t know where he got that impression. I come home from work at the same time every day.”

  The men needed no further encouragement than the irritation in Faith’s voice to get the hell out of her house. They all scrambled at once, stubbing out cigarettes, sweeping plastic poker chips into baseball caps, and gathering their belongings—helmets, leather coats, and leftover booze. They headed in a single file toward the door with Curtis bringing up the rear and staring her down as he passed by her. The pulsating vein in his temple was only the beginning of the rage that would follow. He would eventually come home, and when he did, she would pay.

  Once Bitsy was situated in front of her movie with a large slice of pizza, Faith turned her attention to her husband’s mess. She opened all the windows and doors and turned on the overhead fans to air out the smoke. She collected all the empty beer and spit cans, then filled a bucket with water and scrubbed the stickiness off the table and linoleum floor.

  An hour and a half later, Bitsy had zonked out in front of her movie and Faith was taking her first bite of pizza when Curtis returned.

  “How dare you dis me in front of my friends like that?” he shouted, more angry than drunk.

  “Shh! Can’t you see Bitsy’s asleep?” Pulling the blanket tighter around their daughter, Faith got up and took her plate to the kitchen. When she returned, Curtis was still standing beside the sofa where she’d left him. She no longer cared if she made him mad. “I shouldn’t have to come home to a smoke-filled house full of drunk men when I’ve been working hard all day.”

  With one swift motion, Curtis grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked, twisting and turning his hand, until she cried out in pain.

  Aroused by the commotion, Bitsy raced to her mother’s side. “Don’t hurt my mama, you meanie!”

  Curtis pointed at Bitsy’s room. “If you know what’s good for you, little girl, you’ll go get in your bed.”

  Bitsy stomped her foot. “No!”

  He let go of Faith’s hair and lunged toward his daughter. But she was too quick. She darted behind her mother, grabbing hold of her legs and burying her face in the crook of her knees. Faith pried her daughter’s tiny fingers off her leg. “Let me handle this, honey. Run along to your room and climb in your bed. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  As soon as Bitsy’s bedroom door clicked shut, Curtis grabbed Faith by the arm and dragged her to their bedroom. Slamming the door behind him, he spun her around and punched her in the nose. Her knees buckled beneath her and she dropped to the floor like a commercial-size sack of flour. Curtis went after her, kicking her in the torso, the head, and the legs with his pointy-toed boots. When she attempted to get up, he dropped on top of her, straddling her and pinning her arms to the floor with his knees. He wrapped his hands tight around her throat, choking her. When she gasped for breath, he loosened his grip suddenly and rolled off of her. “What the hell am I thinking? No way am I going to prison because of you.”

  Faith twisted onto her belly and wormed her way to the bathroom, leaving behind her a trail of blood from her broken nose. She locked the bathroom door and collapsed on the floor, the cool tile soothing her wounds. The room began to spin as she slipped into unconsciousness.
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  She woke up later, an hour, maybe longer. She stripped off her bloodied clothes and climbed into the shower, the sound of the running water drowning out her sobs. She stood beneath the spray, letting the hot water massage her aching body. The water pooled at the bottom of the tub, a river of red as it washed the caked blood from her face. She gingerly slipped on her robe, the thin cotton heavy against her bruised skin. She peeked into her bedroom first, relieved to see her husband passed out on the floor where she’d left him, then her daughter’s room to make certain Bitsy was sound asleep. Tiptoeing to the kitchen, she opened the cabinet where Curtis kept his booze and pulled down a half-empty bottle of Old Crow. She took three long gulps, wincing in pain as the bourbon burned her throat. She searched the drawer beside the stove for her one sharp knife. She grabbed a bag of frozen peas from the freezer for her nose, and using the cushions and blanket from the sofa, she set up camp in front of her daughter’s closed door. She slipped the knife beneath the cushion, out of sight from Curtis but with easy access should she need it.

  Faith lay stock-still on her makeshift bed on the floor, assessing the damage. Her whole body ached from where he’d kicked her. She felt certain he’d broken her nose, and probably a rib or two as well.

  Comforted by the sound of loud snoring coming from her bedroom, Faith eventually dozed off. When she opened her eyes again, bright light was streaming through the threadbare curtains on the windows.

  She slid the knife out from under the cushion, and using the doorjamb behind her for support, she inched her way to her feet. One slow step at a time, she made her way to her bedroom, prepared to drive the knife into her husband’s cold heart.

  Eighteen

  Samantha

  Sam opened her eyes, and immediately shut them again, wincing at the intense throbbing in her head, the result of two much wine the night before. She cracked one lid and read a blurry 10:30 on the clock beside her bed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so late.