Chapter 31
Beth
I wanted to fight—tell him what I think of him and...
What did I even want? Was Veronica right after all when she tried to stop me from going to see him? What on earth was I thinking? That I could take on a rich businessman from New York and everything would be fine just because I told him what I think of him and his schemes?
Yeah, that’s pretty much what my poor, beleaguered heart must’ve thought.
But now, back in the shop, I don’t feel a bit better—worse than before, really.
Facing him was hard. Harder than I thought.
Because his mere presence in the room still stirs something in me, and I hate myself for it.
I pushed it away to try to focus. Worst of all was having to listen to him play the clueless one and then try to justify himself.
On the cab ride back to my shop, tears ran down my cheeks, and the driver asked me twice if there was anything he could do, to which I just shook my head emphatically.
Back at the shop, even Veronica’s hug didn’t help.
If anything, it made it worse, because she was right again.
Still, she held me tight and spared me an I-told-you-so.
She also kept an eye on the shop and looked after Ben, who’s sleeping peacefully after I gave him something to drink and told him that Mommy messed everything up again.
I try to calm down by processing the online orders that came in. But even working with my beloved plants brings me no peace. My hands tremble and trimming is hard.
The bell over the door rings; I turn around and see a customer who stops by my shop regularly.
"Good afternoon, I’d like a new arrangement for my husband’s grave," she greets me with a friendly smile, takes off her hat, and sets down the little cart she uses to pull her groceries behind her.
"Of course, Miss Shield. What would you like?
" I ask, trying to sound professional. Our conversations always start this way, but this time I think about how wonderful it must have been to have a man to spend her life with—one she still brings fresh flowers to even after his death. That must be true love, even beyond death. That kind of thing doesn’t seem to be in the cards for me.
On the contrary, the man I thought was a ray of hope first gets me pregnant, then seems to enjoy tearing me and my life apart.
"Sweetheart, are you all right? Not feeling well today?" Miss Shield asks, apparently having noticed my watery eyes.
"I’m fine," I sniff. "Just not my day."
"I know the feeling. When my Peter and I were still together, we had our blowups, too. But we always patched things up. And that’s what matters, isn’t it?"
"Mm-hm," I say, nodding silently. I can’t manage more, because I don’t think I’ll ever patch things up with Alex again.
"How would you like a small, heart-shaped arrangement with white roses and some greenery around it?" I ask, pointing to a photo in my binder that shows several possible grave arrangements, trying to change the subject.
"That would be lovely. You always have such wonderful ideas. That’s why I love coming to you. Can I pick it up later?" she asks with a smile.
"Yes, it should be ready in thirty minutes. Does that work?"
"Sure, sweetie. That works. I’ll run a few errands in the meantime. I might not be back for two hours. Take your time. See you later." Then she heads to the door and pulls her cart behind her. "Oh, and sweetie?" I hear her call. I turn and see she’s facing me again. "It’ll be okay."
"Thank you," I say thinly, forcing a smile because I know she means well.
Before my emotions can flood me again, I get to work and start right in on the heart-shaped arrangement for Miss Shield, before I handle the next online order, which won’t be picked up for another hour anyway.
The bell rings again. I wonder if Miss Shield has changed her mind, which has happened more than once. Sometimes the color isn’t right, sometimes it has to be something completely different—it’s like a kind of game I keep agreeing to play.
"Hello, beautiful," I hear a male voice that makes my blood run cold as I whirl around and, of course, don’t see Miss Shield standing there. It’s Chris. My ex.
Oh no, not him too. The day’s already been hard enough, and I’m in no shape for another confrontation.
"What do you want?" I ask brusquely, turning back to the arrangement, though I feel my fingers start to tremble again.
"Now, now. Is that any way to talk to a customer?
" he asks, and from the sound of his voice I can tell he must be drunk.
I turn and see him coming up to the counter.
His movements are unsteady, his eyes and nose reddened.
I know that look and remember how his hand "slipped" more than once, as he liked to say. I thought that chapter was over for good, but apparently I’m spared nothing. I feel an old, buried fear crawl up inside me, and I take a step back, but of course there’s nowhere to hide from him here in the shop.
"Is it true, what people are saying?" he asks, then slumps against the counter, which creaks under his weight. I can smell his breath from here. He’s not just tipsy. He’s plastered.
"Will you please leave? We have nothing to do with each other. I don’t know what people are saying about me, and I don’t care. I want one thing: for you to finally..." I begin, but then he slams his fist on the counter.
"That you’re a fucking whore and you’ve got a kid.
Who knocked you up? Am I the father? Say it, go on, or I swear I’ll.
.." he roars, lifting his hand. I duck—probably an old reflex from back then—because the counter still separates us and he can’t reach me.
Even so, I’m frozen, and I know what’s coming is unavoidable.
I survived it back then, and I’ll survive it today.
Fighting back only makes it worse, and Ben needs me and. ..
"Put your hand down and leave her alone," I hear another male voice behind Chris. I recognize it immediately, and if you can feel both relieved and angry about someone’s presence at the same time, then that’s exactly what I feel right now.
Alex is standing in the doorway. I don’t know how long or what he’s heard, but I know he won’t let Chris hit me. I never felt threatened by him, and I remember how he helped that elderly lady here in the shop back then. His demons are of a different kind.
"And you are?" Chris asks, clearly spoiling for a fight, pointing at Alex and slowly moving toward him.
"Beth and I know each other," Alex says. "And now please leave, like Beth said," he adds, pointing toward the door.
"Pfff... now please leave," he squeaks, mocking Alex in a high voice. "Not until I wring it out of this little bitch who the father of her kid is and..." Chris, seething with rage, turns on me and charges with his fist raised.
"I won’t say it again," I hear Alex, who grabs Chris’s fist and twists him around in a tight grip, making Chris cry out and glare at him, furious.
"What are you? Her piece? Did you screw her? Is that your kid?"
"Watch your mouth, you idiot, or I’ll—"
"DID YOU FUCK HER?" Chris bellows right in Alex’s face. Alex doesn’t answer for a beat.
"Ha! I knew it. My wife is screwing around. Just like that. Guess marriage doesn’t mean anything to you anymore, does it?"
"Chris, you know full well I’ve asked you about a hundred times to finally get the papers—" I cut in, and heat and cold wash over me as Alex looks at me in disbelief for a moment. Because it’s true. On paper, Chris and I are husband and wife. No one knows. Not even Veronica.
"I’ll tan your hide, as is my right as a husband, you little—"
"Get out," Alex shouts, stepping in front of Chris again and shoving him so he crashes to the floor by the door. "Get out and don’t come back. Or I’ll lose it. I swear to God I’ll break your nose, and that’ll just be the beginning if you so much as touch Beth," Alex yells, planting himself in front of me.
I almost feel a little flattered that he’s helping me. But why is he doing this? He wants to destroy me anyway, just in a different way. Maybe there is something to the idea that he didn’t know?
Chris scrambles to his feet and looks at Alex. For a moment I think he’s about to lunge at him and my shop will become the scene of an all-out brawl before I have to close it—because of the man who’s defending me.
It’s absurd. No one would believe me. I don’t even believe it myself.
But as if by a miracle, Chris seems to decide otherwise. "Lucky you. We’ll meet again. Wife," he says, points at me, and then leaves the shop.
"Wife?" Alex asks, turning to me. "You’re married to that..." He jerks his thumb over his shoulder.
I blush, because that part of my life is so unbelievably embarrassing.
So embarrassing I’ve never told anyone. A stupidity that’s hard to beat and really only topped by what Alex and I went through.
You could almost say I attract things like that, as if they were my purpose.
One more reason to hate myself, especially since I don’t seem to learn anything from it.
"A silly Vegas trip and a complete blackout. Years ago. We didn’t even know until the marriage certificate arrived in the mail two weeks later.
It was a shock. I wanted to undo it; I signed the papers, he refused.
Then came our breakup over a year and a half ago, and since then he’s been dragging it out and.
.." I stop and look at him. "Wait, why am I telling you all this?
What are you doing here?" I pause, then add, "Oh, and thank you... for your help. He’s really. .."
"An asshole," Alex finishes my sentence. "Just like I was, Beth. I mean it—I can really understand how much..."
"You don’t have to apologize," I tell him, even though the way he says it and the way he looks at me feel like balm on my battered soul. Maybe everything was just one huge misunderstanding?
"Your child... it’s his, isn’t it?" he asks quietly, still looking a little shocked that I’m married. I can’t blame him.
"Is that why you came?" I shoot back, unsure whether to tell him and feeling how hurt I still am, even if he stood up to Chris for me. So why the mall, and why the termination? So he’ll just have to live with the shock that, on paper, I’m a wife.
"No, you’re right. It’s none of my business," he says, pausing. Oh, if only he knew how much it is his business, I think.
"The child isn’t his," I say quickly, avoiding his gaze because I want to make at least that much clear.
"It’s okay, Beth. I’m here because I couldn’t stop thinking about our conversation earlier.
You know, the shopping mall," he says, gesturing out the window toward where the mall will go up.
"And about the termination notice for your shop. So, here’s the thing: I made some incredibly stupid mistakes.
The shopping mall was my idea, but you should know it was meant for your own good. I would never have allowed—"
"Beth! Are you there?" Veronica’s voice shrills down into the shop, cutting off Alex’s spiel—the one I wanted so badly to hear because I wished it were true and that he had good reasons for all of it.
I didn’t really believe it, but after his rescue I’d decided to hear him out at least one last time.
"Yes, Veronica. What is it? Can it wait a minute?" I ask, signaling Alex to hold on a second.
"I don’t think so. There’s a problem. With Ben..."
Her voice sounds clearly agitated. What’s going on? A thousand questions shoot through my head. He wouldn’t...