Chapter 20. Blake - Gift bows
I scrolled through the real estate app on my phone.
I was seriously considering moving and was working up the nerve to speak to Haz about it.
With our relationship so up in the air, I was reluctant to broach any subject relating to our future in case it pushed her to decide she didn’t want a future with me.
Since she’d started counseling, she’d made a generous effort to talk with me about things other than Immy and the house, and I could sense she was becoming lighter in her mood.
But we were still so fragile, and I didn’t want to push her, especially given everything going on with Rose and Haz being postpartum.
Rose. That woman’s name was like a stab to the guts.
The biggest mistake of my life. Even if she hadn’t turned out to be a psycho, she’d have been the biggest mistake.
There was so much distance between me and Haz, and I was the one who’d put it there.
Living with guilt sucks. You wake up in the morning feeling normal, but within a few minutes remember the shitshow that is your life, and heavy guilt sets in until you go to sleep that night.
Haz had stopped sniping at me about Rose (even though I deserved it), but I knew she felt uncomfortable, even scared, living across the road from her.
Last week, I installed a Ring doorbell, so we’d at least have eyes on the front door.
Frequently during the day I’d bring up footage so I could see what was going on outside while I was at work.
I’d called the police about the nursery at Colin’s house, but they said their hands were tied.
We had one person’s word for it, and there was no law against redecorating your house. This was getting so frustrating.
My phone chimed.
Haz: Arrived safely. Immy a champion traveler. Chat tomorrow.
Me: Thanks for letting me know. Have a good sleep tonight. Love you xx
After scarfing down some leftover stirfry, I took a shower and settled into the sofa in my sweats.
Mick and I had been talking about old movies this week, and I had the sudden desire to rewatch all the Rambos.
Tomorrow, I was going to tidy the yard and do a deep clean on the house so it was perfect when Haz returned.
But tonight, I was going to lose myself in the classics.
My phone pinged at the same time as the doorbell went, but there was something across the camera.
I wandered over to the door. We had no peephole.
I just knew it was Rose. Fine, if she was going to breach the order, I’d yell in her face, be so harsh that she couldn’t doubt for a second that I hated her and she had no place in my life.
Then I’d call the cops and push for her to be locked up or fined. Maybe even both.
I opened the door and there she stood, in a cream-colored robe. Her hair was loose and down, with fat curls.
“Bear, baby … I saw that—”
“Get the fuck off my step. I’ve already called the police.
I don’t like you. In fact, I hate you. Don’t call me Bear.
Don’t come to my house. Get the fuck out of my life.
You are crazy and I do not ever want to see you again.
” I delivered my speech loudly but slowly, so she couldn’t miss a single word.
“I saw Harriet leave with that lesbian. They’re probably together, Bear. You don’t need to push me away anymore,” she urged, looking like she was close to tears.
What? How did she know Belle’s sexuality? I’d never even talked to her about Belle and they’d never met. Had she been stalking Belle?
“Get. Off. My. Property. Haz is my wife, and I love her. Only her. Not you, never you. Leave now.”
She stared at me, making no move to leave.
I was about to close the door and call the police when she dropped her robe open.
She had one of those cheap plastic gift bows on each nipple and one on her vulva.
What. The. Actual. Fuck. I was sickened by the sight of her but caught a flash of color on her hip.
It was a tattoo of a bear in a construction hard hat.
Bile rose in my stomach, threatening to spill out of my throat.
I slammed the door, bringing my phone up to my ear.
Fucking hell. Surely this was enough. The woman had a fucking bear tattoo.
She came over naked and “gift wrapped” when she knew my wife was out.
I was so grateful for the Ring camera. It would prove my innocence to Haz, if she still doubted me, and Rose’s insanity to the police.
I found myself wishing I had her mom’s number.
Not to sympathize but to threaten her to get her psycho daughter out of my life.
The police arrived surprisingly quickly, approaching Rose, who hadn’t moved from my step. When she had been moved to the car, I opened the door and spoke to the responding officer. She asked for the door footage and gave me some information on where we would go from there.
“Honestly, she needs psychiatric help. The woman won’t let go and I’m worried for my wife and daughter. She’s just not getting it. I yelled in her face and she stayed on the step!”
“We’ll take her for an assessment and update you when we have something to say,” she said, giving me a card with victim resources listed on it.
As I sat down on the sofa, Rambo well and truly ruined for the night, I thought about Haz.
I’d let her have one good night’s sleep before dumping this latest saga on her.
Fucking Rose. I’d been working so hard on myself in counseling.
I had an emotional affair and caused so much damage to people I loved.
Haz and I were uncertain, I’d lost Mick’s respect, Belle tolerated me, and I was pretty sure Sean wouldn’t brake if he saw me crossing the street.
I had to make amends to everyone. Self-recognition was brutal.
It hurt worse than guilt and seemed to just add more guilt.
I’d caused a great deal of suffering for the people I loved.
And for Haz, the suffering extended to fear.
The work I was doing was painful, but I kind of liked that.
I wanted some pain so that I could feel what I’d inflicted on other people.
My counselor wasn’t impressed with my desire to inflict pain on myself but assured me that feeling like I was serving some kind of penance was healthy.
I just had to be careful not to flagellate myself to the point that I became depressed or despondent.
I couldn’t be a functioning, loving father and husband if I was constantly whipping myself.
It was a delicate balance, but I felt like I was maintaining it.
I stretched out on the sofa, knowing I probably wouldn’t even move to the bedroom tonight. I was anxious and stressed. Maybe some Rambo wouldn’t hurt after all.