Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
“Thank you for coming over,” she said, wrapping her arms around me.
It was a warm, deceptive hug. I could sense the act she had prepared for me—me groveling on my knees while she acted oh-so-fucking-innocent. I wondered if she’d encourage me to come back to her…for what reason, I couldn’t imagine.
Why had she ever wanted me around when all I did was cry in despair?
I had my answer now.
“Come on in,” she said, sounding exasperated. It was as though she’d scripted a performance. The benevolent wife coming to her husband’s side in his time of need. A reminder that all the other times had been equally scripted.
She guided me into her kitchen, and as I entered the space, the same decor around as before, I had to admit to some nostalgia for my previous cell.
A part of me questioned everything I’d been so sure of before I crossed that threshold. What if I was wrong? What if she wasn’t bluffing, and I was so fucking out of my mind that I lost my ability to discern right from wrong?
I shook that fear away. It was easy enough to do when I recalled all the lies and confusion that had directly clashed with all the evidence against her. And the very act that had led me to her place.
No, there was nothing left to question.
I’d seen it all flash through my mind, clearer than ever before, as I’d been on my knees with Kyle trying to help me pull myself together.
After she offered me a seat at the kitchen table, she said, “It was a crazy night, and we both said some things we didn’t mean. I’ll make us something to drink.”
She fetched a bottle of rosé from the fridge—a clever and undoubtedly intentional wine selection since it had been our drink of choice on anniversaries and birthdays. I didn’t rush the conversation. I didn’t see a reason to, when everything would be out in the open soon enough.
She finished pouring, offered me a glass, and sat in the chair adjacent to mine, setting the bottle beside us, as though she thought we would enjoy a long day of drinking together after we talked. The way she went about it all—so planned, it seemed—made me rethink so many of our fights in the past. How many times had she cleverly coordinated our fights to keep me right where she’d wanted me?
“How are you feeling?” She reached across the table and put her hand on my arm.
I pulled away instinctively, and she flinched, clearly surprised by how quickly I’d retreated from her touch.
“James, what’s wrong?”
“You came to my home and took pictures of me, and you want to know what’s wrong?”
“It wasn’t right. I knew that even when I was doing it, but people do crazy things when they’re trying to hold on to things they love. I thought I would see something that night, but I certainly wasn’t expecting to see him. I’m not the bad guy here, despite what you may think about my actions.”
Her words implied who the real bad guy was, and it made me consider that talk we’d had in the hotel room before I’d finally found the strength to leave.
“I was hard on you last night,” she continued. “There were a lot of emotions coming up… You have to know, I was shocked to discover what you were doing with…one of your students.”
Even the way she said it, it was clear she was trying to dig into my conscience.
But it was also a reminder that she went beyond taking pictures since that day, to finding out who he was, and I even had my suspicions on why she’d brought it to me when she had.
“You wandered on your own, and look what happened,” she added. “I don’t think you’re a bad person, James. I love you. I’m the only one who knows and understands you. He confused you, made you lose yourself.”
So funny how she was accusing him of the very things she’d done to me.
“What did you think would happen?” I asked her. “By showing me those pictures?”
“I want you to get better, and yesterday I thought that meant going to the police, but I can’t stop thinking how awful that would be. And I don’t know… The prison system we have isn’t set up to help people. I can help you deal with this. It’s my practice. Maybe we could find a way for you to come back, and we can sort this out together. I still love you. I can get rid of these pictures. I can destroy them, make it all disappear. I’d do that to protect you.”
“To protect me? But I would have to come back?”
“Have to? James, didn’t we have a great life together? Weren’t we happy?”
As much as I wanted to keep myself together, I felt the tears coming on. “No, Sheila. I wasn’t happy. I was miserable. Some days I didn’t want to keep on going.”