Acts of Desperation
Emerson Shaw
Chapter One
“So what’s new? How’s the studying going?” Sarah asked, slumping back on the park bench next to me with a sigh. We sought shelter from the oppressive Midwestern summer day under the shade of a big oak tree. At least in the shade it was a good five degrees cooler, but still, it barely took the edge off the sweltering heat.
A warm gust of wind blew, teasing us with relief, but instead, it felt more like someone opening an oven door. It took my breath away as a bead of sweat slowly trickled down my back. The wind whipped Sarah’s long, wavy, light brown hair against her cheek, and she reached up to tuck it behind her ear. My dark hair was pulled back so it wasn’t a nuisance. It was funny admiring her thick locks now. Sarah had spent her youth getting perms trying to get the waves that I had naturally when we were little. But as I grew up, my hair straightened, and Sarah’s, with each child she had, got wavier and wavier.
Looking on, something about her seemed different today—I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. After a few fleeting thoughts, I figured she was probably just tired; she did have two little boys to run after all day long. I bet that could pretty much wear anyone out. I turned and smiled out as we kept a watchful eye over my nephews.
“Really well,” I said. At the time I was in the middle of law school, and every waking hour of my life was spent with my nose buried in a book. “But, I have some exciting news.” I was practically bursting out of my skin—nothing ever felt real until I shared it with my big sister.
“Yeah.”
“I met someone.” I smiled.
“You did? That’s great.” She smiled back, but it lacked its sincerity. I waited for the follow-up questions she would normally ask, but when they didn’t come, I offered up the details.
“Yep. I went with my study group to a bar a couple of weeks ago. This guy walked right up and asked me to dance. His name’s John—he’s in advertising. We’ve gone out a couple of times already, and he’s been calling me a lot. I’ve got a feeling about him.”
“Oh yeah? That’s great,” she said, forcing another weak smile.
I looked directly at her. “Ok, that’s two that’s greats and two fake smiles. What’s up with that? I just told you about a new guy, and this is all you’re giving me? Come on!” I gave her my wide-eyed grin, but that was when I noticed tears welling in her tawny eyes. “Umm…I’m just teasing you.”
“Sember, I think something’s wrong?” she said.
“What?” I asked.
“I think he’s cheating on me,” she said.
“Who? Anders?” I said. Sarah and Anders had met on the night of Sarah’s twenty first birthday. He wasn’t handsome in the traditional sense, but what he lacked in the looks department he made up for with charisma. It had been a whirlwind romance, and after dating for three years, he’d proposed. They’d been together for thirteen years, and the thought of him cheating was completely absurd. “No way. Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know...something’s going on, and I don’t know what else it could be. He’s being so mean to me and he’s never home anymore.”
“Well,” I said, “he has been laying the foundation for his business.” Anders had invested many years in college trying to nail down his specialty. He’d spent his career working for other people, but after graduating law school, he finally started his own business law practice. “He’s worked his whole life to get where he is. I’m sure it’s stressful, and he just doesn’t want to fail,” I said.
“Maybe. He has gotten all kinds of new clients and the money is rolling in,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. We sat silently for a couple of minutes, watching the boys playing in the mulch around the swings. “And,” she said, “he has been really busy—he even tried to get me to quit teaching and to come work for him.”
“He did?” I said. “But you love your job.”
“I really do which is why I’m not doing it,” she said. “And besides, I’m not interested in working in a law office, or for my husband for that matter. I love teaching and molding all those little first grade minds. I’d miss it too much.”
“I’m sure he could understand that,” I said.
“No.” She laughed. “We actually got into a huge fight, and he said I wasn’t supporting him, and then he insulted my job. He said I only worked part effing time anyway, and he couldn’t understand why it would be such a big deal.”
“Part time?” I said, shocked. Any teacher would be offended by that statement.
“I get my summers off so he sees that as part time. I got upset and started to cry so he stormed off and locked himself in his office. But when he came out later, he acted like the fight never happened. It was bizarre. I just don’t know what’s going on with him.”
“He probably realized he was being an ass and let the subject drop. And, it sounds like a classic case of stress to me. It can make people do crazy things,” I said. “I cry a lot when I get overwhelmed. Maybe this is his way of coping.”
“Maybe,” she said. “But then I made him his favorite dinner later that night to try to smooth things over and he said he wasn’t hungry then started going off about looking for a bigger house.” She stared out blankly, confused. “He pounded on the kitchen cabinets and yelled at me. He said I’d be happy living in our ‘crappy little house’ on our ‘crappy little street’ for the rest of my life. I had no idea where any of it was coming from.”