For Now Page 9

  “That doesn’t really matter, Emma. I just can’t.” I shut my eyes.

  “It’s been long enough, Delilah. It’s been a year. A year since you loved, since you gave yourself to another. The longer you allow yourself to sit here unhappy, the longer your garbage fire of an ex-husband wins.” Her voice was stern, scolding even.

  In truth though, it had been longer than a year. But she didn’t know what the end was like.

  Emma was right. She was always right. Not that I planned to voice that to her or follow her guidance. I was far too stubborn for my own good. Although, I couldn’t deny a certain yearning to be touched with love, to be loved. The entire notion scared me far more than I wanted to admit.

  Emma got up and ready to leave while I lay here just a little while longer, soaking in the last few minutes of not getting up. I walked her out and headed straight for the coffee pot. I didn’t even know what time it was until I saw it on the wall clock. 11 a.m. I guess that wasn’t terrible. I started the machine up and waited patiently for my cup to fill, the sweet aroma of energy filling my senses. Maybe today would be a good writing day. It was certainly shaping up to be a good thinking day.

  I sat down at my writing desk in the sunroom as the leaves outside whirled in the air. All the leaves had changed, and most had fallen. The squirrels weren’t out as much these days. They started fattening up and staying inside. I didn’t blame them. I would do the same thing if I could. I flipped my laptop open to check my email first, letting the warmth of my mug radiate to my hands as I waited for everything to boot up. I clicked on my email icon to see a couple from my agent, undoubtedly about the final touches on my recent manuscript. I saw some junk mail. And then I saw an email from Jeff. What the hell? We hadn’t spoken since he came to collect the ring from me. I hesitated, circling the cursor over the top of it a few times before finally clicking it.

  Tears immediately began to fill my eyes. It was the gender announcement for his unborn child. Pink hearts, ribbons, and tiaras framed a sonogram photo with the words “IT’S A GIRL!” in pink text at the bottom. I looked up at the bar to see he had blind copied his entire address book, his ex-wife included. His ex-wife who could not carry his baby. His ex-wife who he had not removed from his address book. His ex-wife who he had raped. I didn’t know if this meant he had just forgotten about my existence entirely or just didn’t give a shit but it all felt the same. It all felt like the worst pain in the world radiating from the center of my chest. A mix of white hot anger and the bleakest sadness washed over me, leaving me gray and without words.

  I shut my laptop. I walked around my desk and lay down next to the windows of my sunroom. I stared straight up at part of the ceiling and part of the sky trying to figure out the reason behind why I felt what I felt. I wasn’t jealous of them. Him and his new wife. I’m sure by now they were married. He was chomping at the bit to make it happen apparently. I definitely didn’t love him anymore. There was no doubt about that at all.

  Why are you angry, Delilah? Because he’s an insensitive prick that copied me on that email and didn’t care if it would hurt me and I can’t believe I ever loved him. Why are you sad, Delilah? Because I will ache every time I see a child. Because I miss something I never had. Because I’m afraid I will never be loved. I’m afraid I will never know what it is like to have a family, to hold a part of myself and the man I love in my arms. I am afraid I will be alone forever. Worse than that, I am afraid I am too damaged to deserve better.

  I lay here silently crying for a long time. The sun moved over the sky from one side of me to the other and I didn’t know how much time that was, but it felt like maybe I should get up. I needed to move. I needed to shower. I needed to go for a run. I headed back toward the bathroom, peeling my clothes off, throwing them down in the hallway.

  It was time to wash this away.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I snuck away to an OB/GYN appointment while Jeff was at work and accounted for. Since the miscarriage, he’d kept tabs on all of my appointments. After about two months, he became suspicious when I didn’t get pregnant. Last week he went through all of my belongings. My purse, my closet, my office. He was looking for birth control. I promised him I didn’t have any but he didn’t believe me.

  On this day I was going to the OBGYN to get a refill of the birth control I promised him I didn’t have, because there was no way I was bringing a baby into this. Not this. And not this way.

  I kept my birth control in the garage, hidden in a box of high school memories. It was on the top shelf and I made sure it never looked like it had been moved or disturbed in any way. He parked in there every evening he came home, but luckily for me he was working late a lot, and I was pretty sure he was too tired to notice anything in there anyway.

  I sat in the waiting room rather impatiently for my turn to go in. I imagined at any moment Jeff would decide to go home early and wonder where I was, and I would have to pay for that. I tapped my foot for a few more minutes and then I finally heard my name being called by the nurse holding a door open.

  I had worn a long sleeve shirt even though it was warm out because of the bruises on my wrists from Jeff holding me down. But the doctor insisted I get a breast exam and so I sat there in a hospital gown, my arms and everything else exposed. I tried my best to fold them in a way that hid the marks but the nurse shot me a glance. I couldn’t place the exact look on her face but it was something akin to silently asking me if I needed help, to which I just looked down.

  “So you’re just here for your routine check-up and a birth control refill? the doctor asked, glancing over my chart.

  “Yes, that’s all I need,” I said.

  “Okay, let’s take a look. Lean back for me and try to relax,” he said.

  Right. Like that would happen.

  The doctor got in place and I heard the snap of gloves. I saw the nurse come over with a tube of jelly stuff and then I heard his voice.

  “Okay, Delilah, just breathe for me. You’re going to feel my hand on you,” he said softly. And even though he’d just warned me, I winced a little. He looked at the nurse and the nurse tried to give me a reassuring smile. This was excruciating in a way it had never been before. I didn’t want anyone touching me anymore. Not even the doctor. After a few silent moments, he said I could sit up.

  “Delilah, it would appear you aren’t completely healed up from your miscarriage. You haven’t been having intercourse have you? You were supposed to wait the prescribed amount of time. By the looks of it, you may have prolonged the healing process,” he said.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. It was all I could manage in the moment. What was I supposed to really say to him? I couldn’t tell him the truth. And now he and the nurse were both looking at me waiting for more information.

  “Is there anything you need to tell us, Mrs. Spencer? You can, you know,” he said.

  Here was my chance. Here was the moment I could make all of this stop if I wanted to. I could tell them and they could call the cops and Jeff would be taken away and it would all be over. But men didn’t exactly do hard time for violating a woman’s very existence did they? A slap on the wrist and a restraining order would just piss him off. What if he came after me?

  “No, I’m fine,” I said, looking away from them as the words echoed in the small room. They heard my silent pleas. I knew they did. They knew I was lying. They knew and there wasn’t a damn thing they could do about it. Because a woman’s silence causes people to stop asking questions.

  I arrived home well before Jeff and managed to make it look like I hadn’t gone anywhere or even done anything but clean the house. I changed, put my clothes in the hamper, hid my birth control, and started dinner.

  When he got home, he sat his briefcase down, hung his coat, and retreated to his office in silence until dinner. We sat down together for the first time in a while and I asked him how his day was. He shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t seem to be very talkative so I retreated into the silence with him. All
that could be heard was the sound of silverware and chewing and the occasional clink of a glass. He was eerily quiet, in fact. I started to worry. I retraced my steps, wondered about the box in the garage, and looked around the room for signs of anything suspicious. I saw nothing. Perhaps my imagination was running away from me. I tried to calm myself, tried to remind myself that I had been careful.

  Then, like a dagger being held to my throat, he put his fork down. He sat back in his chair and took a sip of his beer then put it back down and was staring at me the entire time. I tried to pretend I didn’t notice at first but I was forced to meet his gaze eventually. I stared back at him, and my movements began to slow. Then they halted completely. There was food in my mouth but I stopped chewing. I was waiting for him to say something but he just kept staring at me.

  “So where did you go today?”

  His words broke the silence in such a way that I could tell he knew I had gone somewhere. This was not small talk. This was deliberate. And I had no idea what to say.

  This was what hell must be like. Fear slowly creeping up your neck while you sat there in silence, knowing how the next few hours of your life were going to play out, and knowing there wasn’t a damn thing you could do about it.

  “Stand up,” he said.

  I stood.

  “Bend over,” he said.

  “Jeff, please.” My voice began to shake.

  “Do it.” His voice rose.

  I bent over, my hands outstretched on the table like so many times before.

  The last thing I remember was him standing up and starting to unbuckle his belt as he walked around the table. I blacked out for the rest. Or suppressed it. Or maybe I just forgot it. The funny thing about not remembering was that your body does it for you. The next morning I had bruises on my thighs, both front and back. As I examined myself in the mirror, Jeff walked in. He looked me up and down, grinning.

  “Don’t worry, you liked it. You came for me,” he said.

  I walked into the bathroom and shut the door. I locked it. I sat on the cold tile floor and sobbed. Your body was a strange thing sometimes. And it was capable of betraying you.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I didn’t step out of the shower until everything had pruned twice over. I should have thanked the landlord for installing an extra-large hot water tank. I checked the clock while I was toweling off and I didn’t know where the day went but it was nearing 8 p.m. I walked across my bedroom floor and my reflection caught my eye in the full-length mirror. I reversed a bit and gazed at my body. I traced the lines of my hip bones with the edge of my thumb, circled around my belly button, traveled up my sternum, and cupped my collarbone. I twisted side to side and I could tell the gym had really helped put me back together. No more muffin top anyway. I stood here for a few more moments, examining myself. My body was aching. Not from a sprained ankle, an upset stomach, or any physical ailment. It was aching to be loved, to be touched. That wasn’t a woman thing, that was a human thing. It was in our nature, wasn’t it?

  Just then, I darted to my closet, ripped through clothes, and put on piece after piece. I tied my still damp hair up in a top knot and went for my shoes. I all but sprinted for my keys and phone and ran out the door as fast as I could, foot to pavement, in his direction.

  This wasn’t like me at all and I had no idea what I was going to say when I saw him, but I had to say something. Because the only thing worse than living this lonely life I had begun to carve out was living it with regret. I rounded the only turn I had to take and I could see his house in the distance. He was getting out of his car. I pushed forward faster and yelled out his name. He started to look around and caught me in his gaze. The look of confusion on his face was understandable.

  I stopped a few feet short of him and put my hands on my knees to catch my breath. I really should’ve thought this out a little more thoroughly. I had no makeup on, my hair was wet, and I was barely dressed in almost matching clothes. I had just run all the way down the road toward Samuel in what I can only assume looked like panic to outsiders. Great start.

  “Delilah, are you okay? What are you doing here?” Samuel asked with concern in his voice.

  I threw a hand up in halt. “I just, I need to say something. And I didn’t want to say it before, or maybe I was too scared to say it before, I don’t know. All I know is if I don’t say it, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life, you know?” I asked, still catching my breath.

  “Okay, sure,” he said, a little confused.

  “The thing is…” I started, but a figure on his porch caught my eye. A woman.

  “Samuel, is everything all right?” she asked.

  Samuel turned toward her and waved. “Yeah, everything is fine. I’ll be in in a minute,” he said. He turned back to me as if everything was still the same.

  Oh, god. I couldn’t say what I was about to say now. He had clearly moved on. And why wouldn’t he? I could feel my face reddening as the seconds went by.

  “You were saying?” he asked.

  “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. You know what, never mind, it’s okay. I’m sorry I intruded. I shouldn’t have come over here,” I said as I began to back away from him.

  “Delilah, wait,” he said, just as I was turning on my heel and running back in the direction of my house.

  Oh, god, what was I thinking? What the hell was I thinking? What did I think, he was just going to sit over there and wait patiently for me to become a normal person? Of course not. God, how embarrassing. Hopefully he could explain some sort of normal scenario to her. I couldn’t imagine what she was thinking right now. Ugh, and she was pretty. Really pretty. And now they were together and that was great for them. I was no one to get in the way of that. I just needed to put that all behind me.

  I walked into my house, shut the door behind me, and sank down onto the floor. This was one of those moments again. One where you really search internally for the reasons you’ve done what you’ve done and how you’ll move on from it without letting it hang over you like a storm cloud. Well, that was that. No need to worry myself. And Emma would certainly need to hear about this.

  I looked down at my phone to a text message from the unknown number. I still didn’t know who it was, what they wanted, or why they kept texting me. But for whatever reason, they always came when I needed to see them.

  Things are not always as they are.

  Whatever that meant. I sat on the floor for a few more minutes and realized I spent more time on the floor today than anywhere else. I stood slowly, stretching upward and rotating my shoulders. Despite the very long hot shower, my body was still stiff, still longing.

  I was staring off through the sunroom windows, dazed by the evening sky and its lack of stars. The only thing that snapped me back to now was the knock at the door and all the curiosity that filled me in the short second it lasted.

  I turned the knob slowly, opened it even slower, and held my breath as my eyes met his.

  “Hi,” he said.

  Chapter Twenty

  A month before I miscarried, Jeff and I were in the baby section of a department store in the mall picking out linens, outfits, and pacifiers. We’d been so excited all day because earlier that morning we found out we were having a girl. We’d even named her.

  Jeff was standing behind me, kissing my neck and rubbing my baby bump while I looked at onesies. I was blissfully happy, blissfully unaware of the turn my life was about to take in the next month.

  “What do you want her middle name to be?” I asked.

  “Hmm, how about Harriett?” Jeff teased.

  “Harriett?! No way.”

  “Geraldine?”

  “Not even close,” I said.

  “Okay, okay. How about Anne?” he asked.

  “Hmm, Anne. I like that!” I said. We would have to see if it stuck. If I had learned one thing, it was that I had a tendency to change my mind several times before I settled on a final decision. I thought it had something to do with being pregnant
but I hadn’t figured out why it did that to you just yet.

  Jeff smiled in silent agreement. It was settled. I walked a few steps over to the next rack and a man barreled through the aisle, bumping into me. I put my hand over my belly instinctively. Before I could say anything, Jeff barged over and shoved the guy.

  “Hey, man, watch where the fuck you’re walking!” Jeff snapped.

  “Dude, calm down, it was an accident,” the guy said.

  “I don’t give a shit, don’t fucking touch my wife. Do you hear me?” Jeff persisted.

  “Okay, relax, man. I’m sorry.” The guy backed away slowly, hands up.

  “Jeff, it’s okay, it’s not a big deal,” I said. I touched his arm gently.

  He whirled around at me. His eyes were dark. I didn’t understand what was happening, why he was acting so crazy. I’d never seen him like that before. Ever.

  “Are you okay?” he barked.

  “Yes, I’m fine. How about we go?” I said.

  Jeff started toward the exit silently, boiling under his skin. He got to the car, ripped the door open, slid in, and slammed it behind him. I got into the car slowly, deliberately.

  He didn’t start the car immediately. He just sat there for a moment. “Our little girl is everything to me,” he said, staring out the windshield blankly.

  “I know…” I started.

  “Let me finish,” he said.

  I paused.

  “She is everything to me. And I will do anything for her. Anything. You don’t understand what it means to me. What this means to me. And no one is going to take that away from me. No one. Do you understand?” he said, staring into my eyes with a ferocity I had never seen.

  I shook my head up and down.