7. AVERY
AVERY
The phone rings, cutting through the quiet of the night jarringly.
I thought it might be Carl again; he’s been calling during the last couple of nights.
The first time I picked up to tell him to stop was also the last. Maybe he’s right and I am a waste, but I know better than to listen to a drunk’s tirade of abuse when I have the power to mute it.
“Kayla?” I get up from bed as quietly as I can, hoping that it won’t stir Iris.
Although I know we’re safe here, I’ve left the bathroom door cracked a little to let the light come through slightly. I’ve never been scared of the dark, but since that night with Carl…I’m finding that I’m scared of a lot of things that I wasn’t before.
“Avery, are you okay?”
“I’m…” I pause to mull the word over. Ever since last night, I keep thinking about what Rhett said. Obviously, I’m aware that I’m not, but it doesn’t stop me from replying, “I’m…fine.”
“I’ve been so worried. I’ve called so many times.”
Letting myself out into the hallway, I walk to the top of the stairs and deliberate on whether to perch there or to go downstairs. It feels odd sitting so close to Callie’s door, so the kitchen wins. Besides, now that I’m awake, I know I’m not going to be able to sleep for a while.
“Where have you gone? Carl is…he’s going insane.”
The fact that she’s bringing him up annoys me, but I’m not stupid enough to think that he wouldn’t contact her. I’m assuming that they’ve probably seen each other or at least spoken because of work.
“God, I’m so worried! Why aren’t you talking to me?”
I don’t know.
The truth surprises me. I’ve always been an open book with Kayla. Every argument Carl and I have had, every worry and fear that’s ever crossed my mind, I’ve shared everything with her—the good, the bad, and the absolutely crazy. Yet right now, she feels like a stranger to me.
“Carl said you ran off with—”
“I left him,” I tell her bluntly. I wait for the words to sting or to feel something other than the anger that’s clawing at my insides as I recall the way he treated me.
Years of marriage and of trying to be something to him all tinged with regret over countless arguments where he squeezed my arm too tight or held me too roughly to get his point across. Cornered me to get his way or just didn’t take no for an answer.
“You left him? For good left him?”
“If I ever come back, it won’t be for him.”
“You don’t mean that. Besides, he’s going to need you…”
“Do you really believe that? Because I don’t and he doesn’t either. To quote him, I’m worthless…a nobody. So, yeah, I mean it.”
“You’ve been married for…years.”
The way she says that like the length of time should trump everything else makes me laugh. It shows how little she actually knows of my marriage. Maybe I didn’t confide in her the way I thought I did.
“We’ve been married for eight years and he didn’t even know my age.” I keep going around and around the kitchen island, walking in furious circles, waiting for the physical pain to paralyze me.
“Avery…”
“Eight years and he was screwing someone else.” Her audible swallow appeases me somewhat.
Maybe she’s beginning to understand why I left Carl and why I’m done.
“In all our eight years of marriage, the only things he’s called me with the exception of my name are worthless, stupid, and useless.
He did call me a bitch a couple of times and insinuated I’m a whore too, but you know what he never called me? ”
Kayla’s silent, something that’s rare given she can talk almost anyone into pretty much anything.
“He never called me babe.” I stop in front of the sink, grabbing a cup from the cabinet so I can warm some water to make myself tea.
“I’m sorry,” she sighs, sounding like she’s done trying to get me to see her side of sense. “What can I do to help you? Do you need anything? Clothes? Money?”
“Honestly, Kayla, I have no idea what I need right now.”
“Okay, talk me through what you have with you and what Iris needs? Surely she needs her things?”
“I’ll have to figure out how to get her new things.”
“No, I can bring the important bits to you.”
After missing Dad’s funeral, I think I was begrudging her, but the way she’s offering to go out of her way to help us…I guess I can’t stay angry at her for much longer.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“What do you need? I know where you keep the spare key to the house. I’m pretty certain I know your closet better than you do, and I feel so terrible for being—” She stops, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Please, let me do something for you and my goddaughter…”
“You can’t come all the way to Virginia just to bring us our things. Besides, with everything going on with work, aren’t you busy?”
“Why are you in Virginia?”
“I’m staying with Rafe’s sister.”
“Why? Did his mother send you there?”
“No, Callie and I are friends and…I had nowhere else to go.” It pains me to admit that on the phone to Kayla. She should’ve been the first person I thought of to go to for help. Instead, I ran to Rafe and Nora.
As though we’re back on the same wavelength, she says, “You could’ve come to me.”
“Carl would’ve followed right behind me. I know we’re safe here. Listen, Virginia isn’t exactly on your doorstep—I can figure something out. You don’t have to come all this way for us. I spoke to Mike, and he said that he would come down soon to help me figure everything out.”
There’s a silent pause before she states, “No! No, I can do it. The trip will do me good anyway. DC is insane right now.”
“Okay, if you’re sure.”
“Text me where you’re staying, and I’ll let you know when I’ll come to you. All right?”
“Kayla, please don’t tell him where I am.”
“Avery, Carl doesn’t need me to tell him anything.”
Isn’t that the truth? I used to think my dad knew everything about every who is who of DC society, but Carl managed to make him look clueless sometimes.
“I’ll call you soon.”
“Be careful.”
“Yeah, you too.”
The microwave beeps at the same time she hangs up.
Kayla is the “love you” and endless kisses kind of person, but she barely said goodbye.
It’s obvious she’s worried, and I feel bad for not asking her more about what’s going on with her.
It doesn’t exactly make me a great friend, especially not one that deserves her to go out of her way to help.
Callie’s eyes pop when Kayla’s bright yellow Porsche comes to a stop on the drive.
She blows out a low whistle. “Remind me to put my order in with Rowan later. I might get it in time for Christmas.”
“I didn’t think yellow was your color, but sure.”
Tilting to the side, she looks up at me with a broad smirk. “Look at you getting some sass back. And of course, you’re right—a Porsche should always be in red.”
I’m not sure whether I am getting some sass about me, or whether I’m so relieved to see Kayla showing up on her own, that the haziness from the painkillers I took a little over an hour ago doesn’t feel so bad anymore.
“Is she here on business or to see you? I’m all for a great pair of skyscraper heels, but…a three-hour drive in those is poditricide.”
“What-the what?”
“Foot murder…you know…that shit kills.”
Callie’s right. I wasn’t quite expecting Kayla to show up in a bright white power suit and electric-blue heels.
Not that she ever dresses down—her casual borders on most people’s dressy.
Still, even after the long drive, she looks ready to kick ass with her long hair straightened into an ebony curtain of shiny silk.
Her makeup is flawless, making her tawny skin look radiant.
She’s a vision of designer perfection, while I’m slumming it in a pair of Callie’s leggings that are clearly too short for me and Rafe’s massive sweatshirt.
“Hey.” Kayla stops short of where Callie and I are standing on the porch steps.
Even her poker face can’t hide her shock over my injuries is the hard swallow and sharp intake of breath. The reaction isn’t surprising given I have it every time I look in the mirror. Even with the slight yellowing over the last week and swelling going down, it doesn’t look better.
“The bags!” She suddenly turns back to her car and fetching a couple of weekend bags from the passenger seat along with her purse.
“I forget how well put together these people are. I’m going to go make drinks…maybe watch the kids or, I don’t know, maybe I’ll go dust off my Louboutins and kick some dirt.”
Callie heads inside, leaving me alone with Kayla and the odd feeling in my gut that keeps churning the longer I take her in. I’ve never noticed the color of her lipstick before, but every time she smiles, the knot tightens.
“Amazing house.” Kayla looks around the porch and then back at her car. “What’s with the not-amazing dirt drive?”
“This isn’t the city.”
“It’s not the beach either. When you sent me the address, I thought we could sit on the beach and talk, but…”
“Be nice, Kayla,” I tell her, taking the bags from her.
They’re not heavy like I thought they would be, but the weight is enough to make my ribs smart with the tensing of my muscles.
“Forgive me if I’m not a bubble of sunshine when it comes to the Morgans.”
Of course, I should’ve known better than to bring her here. Kayla’s ability to hold a grudge is as impressive as an elephant’s memory.
“Well, this isn’t business, so maybe you can muster up a smile and soften up that hard wit?”
“Anything for you, babe.”
The word twists the dagger that’s plunged into my gut. Still, I take a deep breath and show her to the open-plan family room. Caleb’s playing a game on the TV. He’s talking a hundred miles an hour into his headset to one of his friends. Meanwhile, Iris and Scarlett are out by the pool with Callie.
“You must be hot in that suit.” I take her to the outdoor seating area. We don’t get a chance to sit before Iris comes running in one of Scarlett’s purple swimsuits. Long gone is every sweet shade of her favorite pink; all she wants is purple.
“Aunt Kayla!” she sings, wrapping her arms around her best friend.