The Last Housewife (49)
“You said it yourself. The things you did with Don.” He sucked in a breath. “You liked it. There’s a part of you that responds to…the pain.”
For eight years, I’d feared telling anyone the truth. So I should have seen this coming. But it was Jamie, and I’d started to believe.… I swallowed the thought. “You think I’m sick in the head.”
“I don’t think that at all. But I saw you that day in the city, remember? I hope you remember, because I can’t forget. I didn’t know what was happening, but I knew enough to be terrified by the way you were acting, the look on your face. You were lost, Shay.”
“You think I’ll lose control.”
Won’t you? that dark, charming voice whispered. Doesn’t a part of you long for it?
I’d stopped. At Fox Lane, when I turned the corner in the hallway and that stately living room came into view—that landscape of naked need—I’d been drawn like a moth to flame, like Sleeping Beauty to the spindle. Forgetting for a moment why I’d come, forgetting everything but that old urge, long snuffed, flaring back to life…
Jamie reached for my hand. I took an involuntary step back, and he froze. “You were in a cult. Do you even realize that? It’s not something you just shake off.”
“No, I wasn’t—”
“Yes, you were. And you might never have gotten out if Clem hadn’t died. Do you know when I heard she committed suicide, my first feeling was relief? Relief, Shay. Because your mom called and said you’d picked up the phone again, after a year of silence. She said Clem’s death made you reach out, and you were actually going to class, going to graduate. The last time, it took Clem dying to break through the brainwashing. You can’t go back.”
“Don’t you think that haunts me?” I stared at him, wishing he could somehow feel what I was feeling. “I’ll never forgive myself. I won’t let it happen again.”
I grabbed Jamie’s phone and thrust it at him.
His brows knit. “What are you doing?”
“Press Record. I’ll show you.”
“Why do you even want to be interviewed? Thousands of people are going to listen. You realize that, right? Everyone’s going to know.”
“You’re a journalist, Jamie. Don’t you want me to crack my heart open? Isn’t a confession every reporter’s wet dream? I’m telling you because you can’t have the truth about Laurel without getting the truth about me.”
He looked back at me, eyes wild and unreadable, like I’d caught him somewhere liminal, pulled in a million different directions. He swayed toward me, like a moth dipping toward flame, and I thought, for one charged moment, that he might kiss me.
But he regained his balance and stilled.
I shoved the phone into his chest. “Come on, Jamie. Press it.”
Chapter Sixteen
Transgressions Episode 705, interview transcript: Shay Deroy, Sept. 6, 2022, Part Two (unabridged)
SHAY DEROY: After Mr. X, Don started bringing home other men, always one at a time. Some of them wanted the same things, and it was hard on those nights to remember Don had our best interests at heart. But some of them just wanted to spend time with us. There was one who would sit in an armchair in Don’s living room, watching us vacuum and dust the drapes in our aprons. We would bring him dinner on a tray, refill his cocktail, and say, “Is that all, sir?” Maybe he’d slip a hand up our skirt, run his fingers over our pantyhose, but that was it. There was another who stayed completely silent. He’d close his eyes when I came near, like I scared him. One night he finally said, “This living room is the only safe place left in America.” I thought it was strange, but I guess Don understood. He said, “I knew you’d find peace with my little housewives.”
Clem didn’t hide the fact that she hated when he called us his wives. There were a million clues she was planning something else, but it wasn’t until the day Don took us to the city, and we ran into you, that I knew for sure. He’d been much stricter since the night Clem tried to escape. We weren’t allowed to grocery shop anymore, and when we had to go to class, Rachel waited for us outside our classrooms. But that day, Don had a meeting with a business partner and said we could come. I think he could sense even Laurel was getting restless. He said we could get ice cream cones while we waited for him to finish.
JAMIE: The three of you were sitting outside Miss Marple’s Ice Cream, at one of those wrought-iron tables, only a few blocks from my dorm. I almost didn’t recognize you. You were shockingly pale and bone thin. And you were wearing that awful dress. When I realized who I was looking at, I stopped in my tracks. Some guy walked right into me, called me an asshole, but I barely registered it.
SHAY: Imagine how I felt. After we moved in, Don told us we shouldn’t talk to anyone from our old lives or go home anymore, because our families and friends were the ones who’d failed us, and we needed to cleanse ourselves of them. The first year, at Christmas, I thought my mom would protest. But Don was right. She had a new boyfriend by then, and she didn’t care that I wasn’t coming home. After that, Don asked us to give up our cell phones. By the time I saw you walking down the street, it was like seeing a ghost. And you had this look on your face I knew was trouble.
JAMIE: You wouldn’t meet my eyes.