Bullet(91)

My voice was cool. “Fine. I’ll leave.” I got up and started to walk toward the door. He understood the tone of finality in my voice, because he bolted out of bed and grabbed me by my upper arm, swinging me around. “Where the f*ck do you think you’re going?”

His fingers were digging into my flesh. I could tell I was going to have bruises without even looking. “Let go of me, Ethan. That hurts.”

“Not until you answer my question.”

“I’m getting away from you. That’s what you wanted, remember? How many times did you tell me to just leave you alone?”

He glared, but he let go. I could see the anger rising inside of him, and I think I preferred it to the lethargic depressive state he’d been in. At least it was something. I turned to leave, but he grabbed me again. He pushed me against the wall, his face in mine. “You still love me, don’t you, Val?” But it wasn’t a question. I tried getting away from him, but he grabbed my arm again. “Val?”

I could feel my nostrils flaring. I didn’t like how he’d cornered me. “Let me go, Ethan. You wanted me to leave you alone, so I am.”

His eyes searched mine. There was something there that I’d never seen before, something base, something feral, something I would never be able to reason with. I knew that looking at him. It scared me. He pressed his hand against my neck, and at first I thought it was just to scare me more, because he’d seen the look of fear in my eyes.

“Stop it, Ethan.” Having said it, though, it was as if the real Ethan was whisked away from me. I couldn’t see him inside his face anymore. His eyes were clouded, masked, and his fingers started pressing in on me. I started pushing against him, slapping at him, trying to get his attention, but it was almost like he wasn’t there…and like he wanted to shut me up by choking me to death. I beat on his chest with my fists, and then it was like he snapped back. He took a deep breath and loosened his hand. He bent over to kiss me, and I shoved him away.

This time, he let me go. I went into Chris’s room and pulled the big diaper bag out of the closet. I made sure there were plenty of diapers and also put a couple pairs of clothes in it for him. I didn’t want to go back in my bedroom, so I went to the bathroom and put a few things in a makeup bag. But on the way back to Chris’s room, I decided I’d just walk into my room and quickly grab a couple pairs of jeans and t-shirts. Ethan was already out of there, though, so I took my time and chose two clean sets of clothes, including underwear. I put my things in a backpack hanging in my closet.

Last, I grabbed Chris’s car seat and lifted him out of his crib. I felt bad, but he barely stirred as I lay him in the seat. I draped his bag and the backpack over my shoulder along with my purse and walked out of the bedroom. As I walked toward the front door, I saw Ethan sitting in a chair in the living room. He looked sullen and brooding. His eyes were cold and frightening. I half expected him to come after me as I walked toward the door, but he didn’t.

Another part of me thought Ethan might get up, beg me for forgiveness, say he was sorry. But he didn’t do that either.

It was a warm, bright afternoon, one that would have made me normally enjoy being outside. But inside, I felt cold, cut off, distant.

I hurried to my car and strapped Chris in his car seat in the back. Once I got in, I locked the doors, hoping Ethan would stay in the house.

I drove to a Starbucks, and Chris and I just sat outside for a while. I watched traffic and just thought about my life. For some reason, I wasn’t hurting as badly as I would have expected. Yeah, I was hurt and upset, but not like I would have thought I should. Maybe I was just finally sick of Ethan’s shit.

Chris started getting fussy—he was hungry and bored, so I went to a restaurant. I had iced tea and a salad and asked for crackers for Chris. I wasn’t very hungry, but I was feeling a little better as the day wore on. By late afternoon, I was content in the idea that life goes on, and as I looked upon my son who was blissfully unaware of what had happened earlier, I realized that beauty and happiness could be found if I only looked for them.

We left the restaurant, and I sat in the car for a few minutes. We needed a place to stay. I was tired and hurting, inside and out. I knew I would always be welcome in my parents’ house, but that was a two- to three-hour drive, and I didn’t want to have to tell them what had happened. I wanted to talk with someone who cared, and my parents would have been good to talk to, but I also knew my dad would probably want to kill Ethan when he saw the bruises on my arm.

My thoughts went immediately to Brad, the man who’d been at one time my best friend…or the closest thing I’d had to one. We hadn’t had much of a friendship since Ethan and I had married, though, and I think it had been a mutual decision on the part of us both. To continue our friendship would have been inappropriate and disrespectful. But, after my parents, he was the first person I thought of. He was the person I wanted to talk to, to see, even if I didn’t tell him exactly what had happened.

But I couldn’t let him see me this way. I found my foundation in my bag and covered the discoloration on my neck. I would slip on my jacket before I knocked on his door to hide the nasty purple ones on the inside of my arm. It wasn’t that I wanted to lie to Brad, but I didn’t want him to look at the bruises and not hear a word I said.

And still…I sat in the car for a while longer, debating if I wanted to see Brad or if I just wanted to go to a hotel. I looked back at Chris. I knew Brad hadn’t seen my son in a few months, so I knew he’d like that if nothing else. Brad had become “Uncle” Brad to our son, and I wanted to encourage that relationship, considering Ethan had no siblings and I only had one. So I decided I would go, but I could find a hotel afterward if need be.

When I got to Brad’s house, it was almost dark. I felt relief when I saw a light on inside and no sign of Ethan’s truck. It would have been easy enough for Ethan to come cry on his friend’s shoulder, but he wasn’t there. I remembered too that Brad’s girlfriend Karen was living with him too, had been living with him for about a year. Karen hadn’t seemed to like me much, but we’d maintained a civil acquaintanceship. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

I sat in my car, feeling torn. Should I ask to be invited inside and take comfort in my friend or leave and cry myself to sleep in a cold, uncaring hotel room? I really wanted to see Brad but didn’t feel like I should. I had my child, and he was the most important person in my life.

That was it then. I would go. Just as I started to turn the key in the ignition, though, I heard a rap on the passenger window. I tried to smile. I really did. I hoped in the near dark, he wouldn’t be able to tell. I turned the key so I could roll down the window. “Val, what the hell are you doing here?” His voice was friendly. “Why don’t you come in?” He saw Chris in the backseat. “Oh, you brought the little guy.” He looked back at me. “Come on in.” Before I could say a word, he was opening up the backdoor and unbuckling Chris’s car seat.

I grabbed my purse and the diaper bag but left my bag in the car and followed Brad to the front door. Once we got inside, he set the car seat on the couch and unbuckled Chris. He lifted my son out. “Hey, little buddy. How’ve you been?”

Chris smiled and babbled something. Yes, he’d been talking a lot lately, but I didn’t understand everything my son said. God, that was cute, though. Chris placed his open palm on Brad’s cheek and Brad said, “Boo!” Chris giggled, that happy baby giggle, and it was infectious. I smiled as Brad set my son down.

He looked over at me. “Have a seat.” But then he cocked his head. I could tell he sensed things weren’t right with me, but I didn’t know that was what he was responding to. He came closer and looked at my neck. That told me my makeup job was shitty. “What happened?”

I forced myself to not cry, and Karen entered the room. She regarded me with an icy stare. “Valerie.” No hi, no warmth, just a simple acknowledgement, and it didn’t seem very happy.

I didn’t want to be that way, so I forced that smile back on my face. “Hi, Karen.”

“Brad, can I talk to you?”

“Just a minute.” He looked back at me, and I saw a flash in his eyes. “Did Ethan do this?”

I couldn’t answer, but I felt tears start to well up in my eyes. I heard Karen. “Brad. I need to talk to you, please.” The tone of her voice indicated she wasn’t happy with him at all. Brad just kept looking at me as though I had more answers to give. “Fuck it. I’m outta here.”

“Karen…goddammit.” He looked at me. “Give me a minute, Val. I’ll be right back.” He looked at Karen, and they went into the kitchen. I felt really uncomfortable now and was wishing I’d just gone somewhere else to stay. I got the feeling they’d been arguing before I’d even got there. For all I knew, that’s why Brad had stepped outside to begin with.